Part 2
-
Chapter 9

///

The tension in the room is icy enough to form frost on a window pane, and the frost is laced with disappointment. Inside of the room sit three figures, two men, two boys, a woman and a girl. The woman and one of the men are married; the three other males and the girl are their children. They eat crispy coconut shrimp and sip tequila in utter silence, save for the gentle clanking of silver against porcelain.

The woman slams her silverware down on the table, making the deep mahogany quiver. "I just can't believe you would do such a thing without telling me!"

Finally, we realize who this family is. A family of assassins, all with their own form of a dark past, and their own expectations for the figures around them. Everyone at the table knows what Illumi did—he broke the unspoken rule of an assassin. He stomped on his family's expectations like dirt; he fell in love. Illumi does not say anything in response to his mother's outburst, for he has nothing to say.

"Son, you have changed so much. You are beginning to see your core values as obstacles over guidelines. Not only are you evading your role as a Zoldyck, but you brought a stranger into our home. Where has this motive to defy us come from?" Silva asks. His meaty figure leans forward, towering over Illumi, who sits across from him.

"I am not sure," Illumi says, unshaken by his father's freezing eyes. "But they are not a stranger. At least, not to me. And soon, they will not be a stranger to you."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Kikyo cries. The highest form of betrayal between mother and child is secrets, especially in this tight-knit family, where every drop of blood is shared. "I'm your mother, Illumi!"

"I am sorry, mother. I do not mean to make excuses, but I was too confused with my own feelings to even consider sharing them with another person. I wish I had the strength to confide in you."

Kikyo places her head in her hands, shoulders trembling, demonstrating her grief. Illumi can't help but chide her in his head, for her emotions hold no place in this situation. This love is his, after all, not her's. For the first time in his life, Illumi realizes that this is not a family matter, but his parents are going to make it one.

"They must be out of the house in a week's time," Silva says, referencing you.

Illumi stares at him for a moment. To Illumi's right, Killua appears deep in consideration, running each word that is spoken through his calculating head. Is Ill really in love? Is that even possible? he thinks, studying his plate of food. Ill is a machine. How can he love someone?

"That is acceptable," Illumi eventually responds with a curt nod.

The room settles into silence once again. Kikyo's snivels ricochet across the vast walls every once in a while, making everyone more uncomfortable than they wish to be.

Once dinner is finished, the servants begin washing dishes and cleaning up, moving like robots. Kikyo excuses herself quickly, practically dragging Kalluto behind her, aiming to use her daughter for comfort. Silva parts ways with Illumi, giving him one final glare before exiting the room to take care of a job with Zeno. Milluki heads to his room, lazy as ever.

Illumi stares at the reddish brown dining room table for a moment. Killua remains immobile, bitter eyes turned sympathetic.

"Ill, is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"Are you... in love?"

Illumi pauses for a moment, thinking over all possible responses. There are so many ways he could lie, or evade the truth. But the truth was just one simple word. It would answer so many of Killua's questions by only answering one.

Illumi decides to go with the truth. There is no point in lying or omitting anymore. "Yes."

Killua glances down at his lap, where his hands sit stuffed in his pockets. The air still smells like shrimp and garlic, a homey scent that doesn't suit the room at all. If only Illumi could appreciate this haven, realize he was safe here. But he can not. He has never known how to appreciate.

Killua stands up. A hand pats Illumi's shoulder, comfort and understanding seeping through the touch. Like Illumi, Killua is only human, and the inner toil that plagues Illumi's heart is familiar to the white-haired boy.

Killua's grip tightens, emphasizing his next words.

"Don't hurt (Y/N)."

With that, the boy leaves the room, heading to who-knows-where. Illumi watches his calm figure move with silent, docile motions, wondering why Killua is even home. He's often out adventuring with Gon. Maybe he is just taking a rest from all of that.

Illumi rises from his chair and grabs a glass of water. He carries it cautiously as he walks through the mansion by himself, crossing humungous rooms lit by dim golden chandeliers and following long, wide hallways. At the opposite end of the house is his bedroom, where you lie on his massive bed sleeping peacefully, the last droplets of poison filtering through your kidneys. Hopefully, you will awaken within the next few hours, thus giving Illumi the chance to talk to you.

In his room, Illumi places the glass of water on his nightstand. He slides under the covers, a bit of his arm brushing against your hair—he feels guilty about the gesture, hoping it does not bother you. Luckily, your figure remains still, so he lies down fully and stares up at the ceiling.

He remains as such for hours, waiting for you to awake.