Love

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  It's been too long since Illumi has been home to the Zoldyck estate. I wonder what his family thought of it. Sometimes assassin work is tedious, but even this length of time away from his family must be unusual.

  Illumi had been fiddling with the needle, the seat across from me on this bullet train.

  I had been dealing with my shock.

  It has only been three days since the happening in the woods. We weren't going to walk back.

  Illumi would look up at me every two minutes, no more and no less, and hold his gaze for less than a second.

  He seemed... guilty.

I beckoned him over and he quickly sat by my side. He's been so... careful these past few days.

  As I swooned into his arms his heart beat frantically, it was almost too fast.

  "Illumi," my voice was still weak with shock and fatigue. I had let so much of his aura touch me. I hid the blood in my cough with a napkin and the burst vessels in my eyes with a downward glance.

  "I'm sorry," he exhaled. He seemed to be panicked.

  "Say anything else," I begged, sounding like a sick witch.

  "I love you,"

  I looked up at him, letting the euphoria rip across my skin. It almost made me angry.

  "I didn't ask for a lie," I snapped, hating how much I wished the lie to be true.

  "I'm sorry," he continued.

  "Why are you apologizing all of a sudden? It's so completely fine!" He fixed my head to watch his eyes. "Woah," I exhaled and my body curled a bit. Hot.

  He looked so...

  confused.

  "What happened to you, Illumi?"

  "Look," he gave me the needle.

  Upon close inspection, his blood had sunk into and stained carvings in the needle that read loyalty pin.

  I wasn't sure what exactly I realized but something clicked.

  A pin? Loyalty?

  Had this been holding in his ability to feel?

  He was overwhelmed that night. Was it all coming to him in those woods when he lashed out?

  Could he haven't meant it when he said...

  I shot my eyes to his. My soul was winded by a high-speed rush to my face and neck until it filled my body. ILLUMI.

  "You love me," I answered.

  "There's so much I don't understand," he was red in the face and his arm wrapped around my waist and held me tighter.

  "Don't do this to me... don't give me hope." I'm sure to explode.

  "I'm..." he was going to apologize?

  Oh...

  Wait...

  I think I get it.

  We stared but we didn't speak.



  A week passed.
  We were in bed.

  Stared but didn't speak.

  Stuck.

  What could be done about our love?

  His eyes were my interest, forever.

  He closed them.

  We were both scared. Scared to continue our story. Scared it would immediately mean the end.

  He realized something I always knew.

  His loyalty is beyond his heart.

  We couldn't be together.

  I was scared he'd realize this if I spoke. He was scared he'd believe it if he spoke.

  So we didn't.

  Until the morning when routine ran out and we needed progress in our mission for this to be right. For there to be a reason we were still next to each other each night.

  The needle he removed was the thing holding his emotions above his head. He collapsed under the pressure in that wood I brought him to.

  He is conflicted. Not sure what to do.

  And just as he let me hold himwhen I was shown my own reality, I shall do the same.

  "My last request is that you love me," I promised.

  "You haven't gone through with my request," he said. He was right. I hadn't taught him anything. I was just recovering and watching like a bystander.

  He held my sword so easily, but couldn't find his own. The analogy is a little funny, but I'm beyond humor.

  Still, I smirked.

  "Let's start with sadness," I suggested.

  Drip.

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