Work Text:
to this day, even on his own, illumi still can’t fully grasp the value of weddings, let alone understand why they’re so important when it comes to marriage.
two people are to be wed, which, to illumi, is nothing more than pressing an semi-official seal on a relationship, also known as “tying the knot” as modern lingo would say (if illumi remembered the unusual slang vocabulary that killua somehow learned). of course, the love between the two newlyweds is never truly required. it always seems to go over the heads of the wedding planners, who are far more focused on pointless things such as gaudy floral arrangements and cake designs.
illumi has ambled down the dark, broad corridors of the mansion, during times where he felt the sudden urge to explore his own house and touch everything he saw, as if he hadn’t grown up in the estate and was seeing the interior for the first time.
he’d walk down the mulberry-colored carpet, his footsteps utterly silent, and his big, inky eyes would trail up to observe the countless portraits that were displayed on the walls. one of them captured the image of his mother and father, taken just a couple years prior to his birth. he saw, just like how his mother cooed as she reminisced the memory, that her vintage, puffy victorian dress had been swapped out for a wispy, elegant gown made of thin lace and ivory chiffon. his father stood next to her with a burly arm snaked around her waist, dressed in a fitted, violet suit (from what illumi can study in the photo, the material is either linen or corduroy).
while the formal garments were charming, illumi couldn’t help but stare at the expressions on his parents’ faces. his father was...smiling, and so was his mother, who was, usually, either bawling her eyes out or fuming with rage (over something insignificant, routinely).
within his training, grandfather zeno had taught illumi himself about the art of reading body language. his grandfather told him it was crucial to be able to make out someone’s intentions just by looking at them. he’s grateful for his grandfather’s lesson, for there are some mornings that he wakes up and is greeted by a certain thickness lingering in his throat.
he’d click his tongue against the roof of his mouth and would find himself unable to speak. then again, it never mattered to anyone unless his voice was needed for a mission. no one, not even his own family, really heeded if illumi went the entire day without saying a word.
just like he did with his father’s training, he’d permanently engraved and stored his grandfather’s advice into his mind, now aware of how to read eyes and hand gestures. standing in front of the portrait, his grandfather’s lesson came back to him like a tidal wave as he stared deeply into his parents’ faces, trying to see the meaning behind their expressions. illumi saw, with his own two eyes, that the smiles in the portrait weren’t feigned. they were pure and brimming with a newlywed passion. he was positive that even great-great-grandfather maha would agree about their sincerity.
for a moment, his heart fluttered at the realization. bathed in costly fabrics and beautiful flowers, his parents held each other so warmly, tender smiles glued to their usually frowning faces. he noticed his mother’s visor had been removed for the sake of the photo, divulging her dark, bottomless irises. the way the corners of her eyes crinkled with merriment, it was all so foreign to illumi, seeing his parents captured in such a state, watching such a rare twinkling in time where his mother wasn’t screaming her throat raw and his father spending time outside of his study.
and not a drop of blood to be found.
he recalls back to the infamous “visit.” just about sixteen months after killua withdrew alluka from the estate, illumi had came to visit for his sister’s thirteenth birthday (without his parents knowing, of course). he fully expected for his present to be thrown in the trash, to be insulted, and for the front door to slam in his face, but he went anyways with the slim chance he had that killua wouldn’t explode with anger at his presence.
hisoka, being the clown that he is, can’t keep his mouth shut even if it saved his life (then again, he probably doesn’t mind dying from gossip). in their strangely intimate chats, many different names roll off the magician’s silver tongue, but the name “kurapika” always comes rushing back to the center of their conversation.
at first, it only rang a petty bell in the assassin’s mind, but he soon perceived that kurapika was the same blond teen who accompanied killua during the hunter exam. with the mention of killua’s name, he listened attentively, wide awake with curiosity as hisoka began to narrate what his former, scarlet-eyed associate was up to.
according to the magician, the iconic quartet, now a quintet with alluka in the picture, reassembled after an eternity of being apart and scattered all over the world. kurapika, being the blunt and skeptical young man he is, expectedly refused to go into detail about his current situation with the three children, or at least discuss it with hisoka. the clown could effortlessly stalk the blond and find out himself, but the turtleneck and cardigan kurapika sported instead of his signature tabard told hisoka everything.
kurapika’s settled into a domestic lifestyle, and was most definitely living with the three children (in a cottage somewhere, hisoka predicted).
illumi wasn’t sure how to react to the sudden information, it felt like a painless slap in the face. killua, his younger brother who he raised and cherishes so much, who only desires chocolate robots and to get to spend time with gon and to give alluka the loving childhood she’s always deserved, has actually moved out and embarked on a completely new life without illumi even noticing.
at first, during the exam, killua’s rebellious, little “incident” was nothing more than a slip-up in illumi’s eyes. it was merely a matter of going after and dragging killua back to the estate, where it was safe and the soon-to-be-heir had everything he ever wanted at his fingertips.
but illumi was blind to how hollow killua’s desires really were back then, because killua never wanted to take over the family name, let alone be an assassin. all the silver-haired preteen really hankered for was a normal childhood, full of toys and sweets and free of torturous training sessions. he just wanted to have friends and be with his sister, illumi realized after talking with hisoka.
killua didn’t even come back to pick up his things. all of his empty chocolate robot boxes and childish belongings remained in his bedroom, collecting dust as the time passed.
the comprehension hit illumi like a bus (that is, a bus that was strong enough to actually harm him).
the dark-haired assassin had found himself inside of killua’s room immediately after saying his goodbyes to hisoka that evening, standing idly in the center, surrounded by abandoned toys and bits of garbage killua was too lazy to pick up. kikyo had forbidden the butlers, fat tears rolling down her cheeks, to never enter killua’s bedroom or lay a hand on his belongings until the preteen returned for good, in the desperate moment of hope that killua would somehow change his mind and retreat back to his family.
but even illumi understands that killua has a new family, in a new and much safer house with no dungeons, and parental figures who only give time-outs and groundings instead of chaining the teen up and striking him with whips.
illumi dragged a pale finger across killua’s race car bed frame, watching as the dust stuck to the his skin. he stepped away and gingerly picked up killua’s skateboard, a gift from their father when the preteen was around eight or nine. he held it gently in his hands, as if the cheap plastic would shatter like a delicate jewel if illumi accidentally dropped it. he reminisced about the hunter exam and how killua, clever and cunning brat he is, cheated the system and glided past the other candidates, a smug smile on his face as everyone else around him collapsed from exhaustion.
illumi felt like he should be furious, just like how he was when killua made that wish to heal tsubone’s hand, but he’s just dumbfounded. it reminds him of how his father had dropped him off at heaven’s arena when he was five. it was solely part of his training, but when his father turned around and curtly boarded the airship without even uttering goodbye, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of emptiness in his heart. his father simply told illumi to just “reach the two-hundredth floor” before leaving the five-year-old assassin alone in such a large building packed with strong, powerful fighters.
it isn’t allowed, but back then, five-year-old illumi had a feeling he should be boiling with rage or sobbing from the abrupt isolation, but he just stood there, his soulless eyes wide and stunned beyond belief as he watched the airship take off and disappear.
that same exact feeling now returned nearly twenty years later, porcelain hands trembling as he slowly brought the dust-coated skateboard to his chest, trapping it in a vice-like embrace as his heart began to drain. he expected tears, and fought them on instinct, but there were none to be shed. illumi zoldyck stood in his little brother’s abandoned bedroom, hugging an inanimate object as if it was killua himself.
the following week after that was alluka’s thirteenth birthday, and illumi’s hand hovered over the doorbell, a wrapped box held in the other.
whale island is a quaint place, rather fitting for someone like gon freecss to have grown up in. besides, the smell of saltwater in the crisp, clear air is pleasant to illumi’s senses. it makes a delightful vacation spot for tourists.
but illumi is no tourist, he traveled to the island for one reason and one reason only.
he rang the doorbell of the cottage (bingo, hisoka) and waited silently. behind the door, illumi could make out the soft pitter-patter of feet growing closer to the entrance.
killua? no, it couldn’t be. killua’s been trained to silence his footsteps, unless he lets his guard down inside his new home, respectively. could it be gon, maybe? it couldn’t, he hasn’t known the young boy for that long, but he can see that he’s far too talkative for his own good. he most likely would’ve shouted a cheerful “be right there!” before opening the door. it couldn’t possibly be leorio or kurapika. illumi scheduled his sudden visit carefully, making sure to select a day where both parental figures wouldn’t be home, not being able to take the risk of either of them blowing a fuse and demanding illumi to leave the island.
that only left one person.
he only saw her for a split second, quite literally, as the chain doorstop halted the door from opening any further. illumi was instantly hit with the smell of freshly baked cookies and the sound of cartoons playing on the tv somewhere in the background. in the tiny slit of the door, he saw alluka’s bright, blue gaze looking right at him, sparkling with mirth. but in less than a second, her smile had vanished as she let out a high-pitched gasp at the sight of her other older brother. with a squeal, she immediately shut the door, followed by the sounds of numerous locks being secured.
well, that was expected.
just like every other possibility he had envisioned it in his head, alluka scurrying away from him in fear somehow stung the most. even if killua was home and told illumi directly that he never wanted to see him again, it still wouldn’t hurt as much as alluka’s reaction.
the uncanny feeling of hollowness washed over him again, running a chill through his spine as he fidgeted with the gift box.
fortunately, illumi could still sense a presence behind the door, cowering underneath a piece of furniture. it pained him that she was cowering at all, but he was lucky that she didn’t immediately sprint upstairs and lock herself in her own bedroom.
separated by a mere front door that illumi chose not to kick down, the assassin took a step closer.
“alluka.”
as expected, he was met with a fearful silence.
“i know your birthday isn’t until saturday, but i have a mission on that day. so i’m dropping your present off here.”
no response.
“alluka, i know you’re there.”
he regretted his choice of wording immediately.
“it’s not poisoned, or rigged with a trap, if that’s what you’re afraid of. the present, i mean.”
he weighed down each word he spoke, careful not to make the atmosphere more threatening than it already is. he understood, deep down, that it wasn’t the present she was terrified of at the moment.
“alluka.”
nothing.
“i hope you have a nice birthday. i’m sorry for not giving you anything for these past years.”
he wished he could say more, apologize for everything he’s sorry for. but he keeps it limited, not wanting to disturb the young girl any further.
“send my regards to kil and gon. i’ll come by in may and july to give them presents as well.”
silence.
“there’s...there’s something in there for nanika as well.”
“...”
“well, i’ll leave it on the doormat.”
after gently placing the box to sit in front of the door, illumi tugged at his hair before turning on his heels and making his way off the porch before someone returned home and noticed him.
in the very last moments before leaving the property completely, he could sense that her presence had stopped quivering.
after that, illumi could only assume that alluka kept silent about his sudden visit. he waited anxiously for killua’s furious phone call, for gon or kurapika to confront him directly, for leorio to call him names for a second time, but there was simply nothing. not even an ominous text message from an anonymous number, threatening illumi and ordering him to never step foot near the house again. it was as if he never visited. as if alluka, for whatever odd reason, decided to not tell anybody. whether her decision was out of fear of guilt, illumi couldn’t find a reason to complain, so he let it go, just like he does with most things in his life.
the visit to whale island happened just a few months ago, and now april is approaching, along with the warm glow of the sun that illumi loves being bathed in.
as a child, when he wasn’t undergoing merciless training or taking out targets on missions, when he wasn’t trapped inside an iron maiden or being burned with red-hot coals, when he wasn’t attending galas with his father or having tea with his mother, illumi often found himself in the same place.
outside. either lying in the lush grass or dipping his bare feet in ponds, being kissed by the mellow heat of the spring sun, searching for nothing but peaceful isolation. when his own bare bedroom, utterly dull compared to milluki’s heavily decorated walls, didn’t feel safe anymore, illumi turned to the outdoors for protection, since he didn’t have an older brother to shield him like killua did. he turned the outdoors into his haven, whether it was the backyard of the estate or simply the air he would breathe in as he stood on balconies. it’s silly and pointless, but there’s such a strange comfort that warms the assassin’s heart whenever his skin meets the rich, endearing texture of nature.
his wedding, made endlessly imperial by his infamous pedigree, was looming quickly, for the ceremony was to be held in just a couple of days. while the dozens of staff members scramble around the mansion like disorderly mice, feverishly dusting and sweeping everything in sight, and while his mother throws her crying fits and wails her empty pleas, begging her beloved first-born to stay, illumi seems to be the least worked-up person about the whole matrimony, right next to his fiancé and his father, of course. even the shy and aloof kalluto looks as if he was on edge, as tense as a coiled spring.
all of the meaningless planning is finally coming to an end as the last details are polished and perfected to fit into the ungodly expectations of the family. everything lives up to satisfy the zoldyck culture, the extravagantness only piling on to the zoldycks’ reputation. obviously, such a lavish family needs to throw an equally lavish wedding for their eldest child, who is, ironically, anything but lavish.
the ceremony is to be carried out inside of a cathedral, garnished with flowers and attended by hundreds of VIP guests—powerful kingpins, esteemed clients, other wealthy assassins, and so forth—most of which illumi has never met before in his entire life. then again, it isn’t like he cares that much about who shows up his own, almost mandatory, wedding. if truth be told, not that he wants for it to be canceled, but illumi wouldn’t mind if there was no ceremony at all (but then that wouldn’t be fair to hisoka or his mother, so illumi keeps quiet).
illumi’s footsteps are soundless as he leisurely strolls through the estate’s garden, brushing his ashen hand across the sea of roses. the petals are soft, like velvet, and illumi likes the way they kiss the pads of his fingers. part of him wishes he could lie down in the garden, be embraced by the bright red roses and their comforting softness, and simply sink into their roots and disappear. but unlike his voice dying out, illumi suddenly vanishing would actually grab someone’s attention, so he settles for peacefully skimming his fingers through the garden instead.
the roses shine a rich, raw shade of red, only the most vivid blossoms were snipped off and used as embellishments for the ceremony, any poor bud that kikyo saw as “dull” were immediately thrown away. the color red symbolizes passion, strength, desire, courage, and most of all, love. it’s more than suitable for the wedding of a zoldyck, and in illumi’s eyes, it fits he and hisoka’s relationship splendidly, because the color red also means danger. it expresses lust and rage, which is nothing more than the underside of their puzzling bond, underneath the colossal iceberg which no one sees or bothers to look deeper into, thankfully.
with his name in his mind, that’s when the assassin begins to ponder about his fiancé and if hisoka’s actually interested in throwing such an excessive, prodigious wedding. illumi feels as if the exaggeration of the formality harmonizes hisoka’s own gushy personality quite well, but would the magician really throw that much of a tantrum if there wasn’t a celebration?
illumi knows for a fact that his mother certainly would, without a doubt. he mentally cringes just envisioning it: his mother, her shoulders trembling fiercely, salty tears spilling out from underneath her visor and flowing down her pale cheeks, now ruddy from her overwhelming emotions. even now, illumi still can’t thoroughly understand his mother’s sentiments or her mental state, specifically, what exactly goes on inside her head, so he just remains obedient and tolerates it silently instead of trying to figure it out himself. he knows there’s no point in trying to solve such a complex puzzle, any attempt to do so would be fruitless.
trailing back to the thought of his fiancé, illumi imagines the man, calmly shrugging his burly shoulders after being told the ceremony was called off, like it didn’t even bother him. if that were to happen, would that mean hisoka doesn’t care? would that mean he doesn’t care about this entire marriage? illumi promptly shakes his head, clearing the toxic fantasies. no, he says in his mind, hisoka couldn’t possibly turn his back on this unholy relationship they subconsciously formed together. it’s been far too long. they’ve known each other for far too long. if there is ever a point in time where they’re meant to separate (“break up” as killua would call it), then it’s long overdue. it’s too late to back out now that they have their wedding creeping just around the corner.
illumi sighs quietly, reassured by his own thoughts, since there’s no one else to reassure him.
the sun is beginning to dip below the horizon, illumi can see without glimpsing at the sky. the mellow sunshine that once shimmered against his pasty arm has faded, ever so faintly, to a warm, orange color. his shadow, dark and ominous, unfurled behind him and stretched out on the grit path, hiding from the lowering sun. with the amber glow saturating each blossom, the garden of roses seem to shine even more radiantly, their color deepened by the blinding sunset.
illumi watches, feels it on his flesh and in his bones, as the daylight warmth begins to slip away, alongside the cerulean sky.
the sky is a dazzling reddish-yellow, bordering near a deep purple color, when illumi senses a sudden presence making its way down the path and towards him, and their aura isn’t distinguishable.
he wants to reach out and ready his needles between his fingers, equipped and prepared to attack whoever dared intrude the zoldyck property, but he stops himself when the presence comes closer, becoming more and more familiar with each lighthearted step they took.
he turns around slowly, eyes wide, and lays his gaze on a speck in the distance, masses of feet away from him, just in view for him to see (barely). he watches with a stony face as the speck walks closer, slowly becoming a silhouette and then a person. and the more distance that closes between the two, the more visible the unknown intruder becomes. eventually, they come close enough for illumi to see their face, and he instantly discerns who they are.
her steps are frisky and joyful, illumi supposes he could say she was skipping rather than walking. she frolics closer and illumi realizes she’s not wearing her usual shrine maiden dress—the same pink chihaya and green hibakama he last saw her in—but rather a salmon-colored halter dress with a pair of jelly shoes. her thick, choppy hair, which has grown a few inches longer, has been tied up into two braids that flows down her shoulders, embellished with cartoony beads and frilly ribbons. but what caught his attention was the enormous bouquet she holds firmly in her grasp, brimming with silky white tulips.
ultimately, she walks close enough so that there’s only a few feet between them, and then she halts in her tracks.
she’s staring up at his towering figure with gleaming cobalt eyes, blinking owlishly as she draws the posy closer to cover her mouth, leaving only her eyes in view. meanwhile, he’s looking down on his petite sister, the same little girl he had tried to “get rid of” less than two years ago, the same little girl that was shaking in her bright pink boots as she clung on to killua’s sleeve for dear life, the same little girl he referred to as a boy in the past just so he could hurt her, the same little girl who has suffered so many hollow, lonely birthdays inside of her desolate room.
the same little girl that illumi stopped seeing as family under his parents’ orders.
they stare at each other for a few minutes, both musing exactly what brought them to this extraordinary but gravely horrifying moment in time. where after so many years of alluka being seen as a “thing” by her own family, she stands before her oldest brother, the same assassin who wanted her dead a while back, just days before his own wedding.
“alluka.”
“aniki.”
killua is onii-chan, alluka thinks to herself, and illu-ni is aniki. it’s important to know, since her two older brothers are extremely different people. she wouldn’t want to mix them up.
“aniki,” she says again, nudging the bouquet away from her mouth. “i heard you were getting married.”
illumi nods curtly.
she drags her bashful gaze to stare at the ground, avoiding his eyes. “i’m happy for you. you’re the first in our siblings to get married.”
our siblings.
“yes, i am,” illumi deadpans, trying to make his tone passably cheerful. “hopefully, as the second eldest, milluki will be next, although i’m not sure who his future spouse could possibly be. he doesn’t spend much time with anybody.”
stop making this about milluki, illumi mentally scolds himself, she didn’t come here to talk about him, that’s a fact.
alluka understands it too, she’s aware of the imaginary hourglass and the time limit she has before illumi must go back inside the mansion, vanishing into the dark. she trails out a deep sigh before cutting to the chase.
“you...you gave me a birthday present...and you said you were s-sorry...”
he remembers. he only apologized for not acknowledging her past birthdays, but she knew what was really trying to communicate back then on the porch.
illumi purses his lips.
“did you,” he takes a pause. “did you throw it away?”
her head wags from side to side, ruffled braids swaying with the movement. “no, i hid it under my bed and waited until everyone in the house went to sleep.”
“i...i went out to the front porch and opened it there, in the dark,” she adds after a brief moment of silence.
the faintest smile tugs at his lips. “did you like it?” he asks with a sliver of joy in his voice.
she nods without hesitation. “mhm. nanika liked her present too.”
“did kil find out? or gon?”
“they...” she breathes deeply. “...they did,”
“oh,” his blank expression remains, but she can hear the vague disappointment in his tone. “so then it was thrown away?”
“they were going to at first...” she admits reluctantly. “but i guess gon saw how much i liked it: all the new nail polish and makeup and clothes. he dropped it, but onii-chan didn’t,”
illumi finds himself chuckling in his head. he isn’t surprised killua wouldn’t gloss it over, the silver-haired teen has never been very quick to let something go, unlike illumi, who usually has no choice but to let some things go.
she continues. “kurapika saw how much i liked it too, but both onii-chan and leorio were really, really mad. onii-chan got all bright and zappy, and his hair lit up. he...” she lets out a tiny, nervous giggle. “he said he was going to ‘shock you until you saw stars’.”
illumi doesn’t know how to reply.
“i managed to convince them, though. i...” she sheepishly itches at her nape. “i didn’t tell them about what you said on the porch, but i told them you’ve changed. that you seem...better,”
another wave of silence crashes over them, with alluka’s eyes fixating on the ground, and illumi, with his tranquil posture and impassive face, waits with an infinite patience.
“aniki?”
“yes?”
“do you still hate me?”
illumi freezes, his face and posture not moving for a second, but the cogs in his brain malfunction as her question pierces through him like an arrow to the heart.
his hesitation only makes her bite her lip anxiously, feverishly blinking away tears that she can feel, in her throat and nose, are coming quite soon.
“no,” illumi answers after a bit of thinking. “no, alluka, i never hated you.”
i didn’t know what to think of you, all i knew was that you “weren’t family.”
her azure eyes twinkle in the blazing orange light, absorbing the unexpected warmth from his monotone response.
“but didn’t you want me dead?” her voice doesn’t tremble, surprisingly, but it’s heavy with doubt and confusion.
“i did,” he confesses instantly. “but that was back then. all there is to think about is the now. and as of right now, i’m about to get married, and you’re living a peaceful life with kil, just like you’ve always wanted.”
“i...” her grip on the bouquet becomes tighter.
he wordlessly waits, ebony hair dancing with the sudden sweep of crisp wind as dusk begins to surface.
“no...” she states more solemnly, furrowing her eyebrows, a sight that illumi never thought he would see.
“no, that’s not what i want.” she looks up to make eye contact.
illumi innocently cocks his head like a confused feline. “hm? what do you mean? i thought you wanted to be with kil forever. you said you loved him, didn’t you?”
“no,” she shakes her head softly. “you’re right, i do love onii-chan with all my heart, but living with him or being with him wasn’t my dream. it never was, even before he rescued me.”
rescue. illumi doesn’t like how it sounds in his head now. his little sister needed to be rescued from their poisoned home, like she was being saved by danger.
“tell me,” his words remind him of what he said to killua during the hunter exam. “what is it that you want then? if it’s not being out of the estate or being with kil, then what is it?”
her lip shudders. “i want...”
a tense silence is strung between the two siblings, the same silence that kept them apart for all these years, the same silence illumi chose to give her after she was declared “not a member of the family” and was thrown into the basement to live the rest of her life utterly alone.
the silence was shattered as alluka whipped her head up for a second time, revealing her glossy eyes and dripping nose.
“i want to get along with everyone! i want to be apart of the family again! i want to go on missions with dad! i want to have tea parties with mom! i want to play dress-up with kalluto! i want to play games with milluki! and i want to see you get married, aniki! i just want to be loved by you, by everyone! i want us to be like normal brothers and sisters!”
her words, wobbly and brittle, seem like the loudest noise on earth, ringing in illumi’s ears and echoing out to the garden and the glimmering sky. her tears form crystals on her eyelashes, sparkling like glass dust, illuminated by the balmy sun. her face is flushed, on the brink of bursting out into tears right then and there, but she restrains herself as her hands begin to tremble, shaking the bouquet slightly.
the silence is ear-piercing.
illumi stares at this little girl, who’s seen so much and so little at the same time. this thirteen-year-old girl, his long-lost sister who he watched, as a teenager himself, gently held their father’s hand as she was escorted into the basement, her eyes filled with a naive curiosity that makes illumi’s heart twist now as he recalls the memory.
reluctantly, he takes a slow step forward, wary not to make himself look as if he was going for an attack. he inches closer to her as if she was an uncontrollable, feral animal. except she’s not the savage entity that their parents saw and treated her as, all those years ago, in the depths underneath the estate. instead, she’s just a young girl, he can see it now, a child who enjoys wearing dresses and playing dolls, a child who simply wishes to get along with her family.
she’s blind, illumi realizes in his mind as he takes another cautious step, she’s blind to how irrational her desire is.
for alluka to be loved by the family is out of the question, their mother doesn’t even want to look at her. and illumi’s certain, behind his brother’s calm visage, even kalluto, who’s always been so polite and docile ever since he was born, holds a rabid grudge against her, envying her with a bitter passion.
alluka’s wish is so utterly plain in writing, but to a zoldyck, they know, illumi knows, that it’s beyond the bounds of possibility.
“i read somewhere,” she begins, barely above a whisper, keeping her words steady to stop herself from losing it completely.
“i read somewhere, probably in one of the new fantasy novels kurapika bought me, that white tulips mean forgiveness, and purity, a-and new beginnings; a fresh start...”
she extends her arm, putting out the bouquet for him to take.
“aniki,” she sniffles. “can we...”
there’s a pause as she blinks away tears and suspires a few deep breaths, as if she’s equipping herself for battle. illumi doesn’t mind waiting, he’s never minded, he understands she needs time, that she can’t just say what’s on her mind whenever she wants without readying herself, readying her emotions.
and the moment she’s ready, the tears are pricking the corners of her eyes, on the verge of overflowing down her face.
“can we start over, aniki?”
illumi stands there for a moment or two before taking another silent step, and then another and another and all the sudden, he isn’t sure what happened exactly, he crouches down and engulfs his sister into a suffocatingly affectionate embrace.
she doesn’t hesitate one bit. she allows the tulips to slip from her grasp and fall to the ground, not caring if they were ruined or not, and instantly swaddles her arms around her brother’s neck, practically digging her nails into his nape as the tears finally spill over. they trickle down her cheeks in crooked rivulets and she bawls. the noise that comes out of her mouth sounds almost like a howl, a shrill screech that’s clogged with snot.
all of her emotions, her doubt, her fear, her confusion, the empty gaps in her heart, the feelings of bitter loneliness, the absent love that she craves for, everything she had been suppressing and trying so desperately to ignore was ultimately resurfacing in the form of tears that poured out of her eyes as she allows herself to finally cry out her pain and frustration. she cries out everything she wanted to wail many years back, when she first realized, as an innocent toddler, that she had been locked up like a contaminated disease, like a wild animal; when she first realized that the spacey, colorful room was so much more than just her new bedroom. instead, it was a prison designed for her to stay trapped in for the rest of her life, like a criminal in jail or a creature in a cage.
she wanted to cry, she remembers, but there was the tiniest shred of hope loitering inside of her, fueled by the one and only person that would visit her (other than the butlers who only came by to drop off her meals), killua, who she looks up to and adores so much, appreciating every minute she got to spend with him during his painfully brief visits. but as the years passed by, she couldn’t help but notice that the preteen’s visits became briefer and rarer.
and then two years slipped by without killua visiting at all.
it was then that she wanted to sob. she felt her heart shatter into a million pieces, encasing one of her many fluffy pillows into a tight hug as she let her tears escape and absorb into the fabric. killua had left. he had abandoned her just like the rest of her family the people who lived normal, unrestricted lives just above her, the people who had intentionally forgotten her existence.
but nanika, bless her heart, stayed. she couldn’t leave even if she wanted to. alluka could hear that sweet, flat voice in the very back of her mind, uttering reassurances.
“it’s okay,” nanika had mumbled. “killua would never leave. he’s just busy right now,”
busy.
yes, that’s right, nanika’s so clever. killua’s visits only happened less and less because he was very busy at the moment, and now, he must have his hands even more full for him to have not visited at all for two whole years.
so she simply wiped her tears and picked up a random picture book to read while she waited patiently, staying put in her mellowly lit prison until her big brother returned.
in all honesty, alluka wouldn’t have minded if someone other than killua came to visit. she’d just be happy to see anyone.
it’s been so agonizingly long since she’s hugged, much less touched, one of her family members besides killua. illumi’s hair is so soft and silky, it’s grown to such an elegant length compared to the awkward bowl cut he sported when she was a toddler and her family was still trying to decipher nanika’s ability. then again, everything about illumi has changed. when killua was practically breaking his neck trying to free alluka from the mansion and escape from the clutches of illumi, her eldest brother was simply an obedient assassin, executing an order he thought would fix everything, doing things that he thought were right.
but now, illumi is a bride-to-be, trapping her in a hug that was tight enough to comfort her, but loose enough so he wouldn’t accidentally crush her spine. she nuzzles into his shoulder and weeps as his hand, cold and pallid, comes up to stroke her head.
illumi wonders if it’s too late to request that the red roses ornamenting the ceremony were replaced by white tulips instead, stopping the thought when he remembers his mother and how seriously she took decorating the cathedral.
but then, a new idea sparks in his head, and he waits for alluka’s cries to dwindle before asking the question.
“alluka?”
“mm?”
“would you like to be the flower girl at hisoka and i’s wedding? i’m sure i can pull some strings.”
white tulips for forgiveness, something illumi would’ve never imagined receiving, especially as an early wedding gift.
the sky is completely dark by then, speckled with fading stars.