goblin behaviour

Was it some kind of nen attack? Where was Pakunoda? 

He bristled but could hardly find it within himself to move, jolting as he felt a hand grab his shoulder. His own latched on before they could touch him again but his grip lacked any true strength. Not due to the exhaustion as he first thought- even tired he should have been able to easily snap the bones of any average person- but because the hand wasn’t his. The fingers weren't long enough and lacked the distinct scar that normally ran over the back of his hand, gained from an accident when he was younger and still living in Meteor City.

As his vision cleared he saw a woman staring down at him in concern even as he gripped her arm with this body’s feeble strength. Her eyes were instead focused on his hands, which he now noticed were bleeding. A result of landing on the shattered glass around him. The pain was numbed in a strange way, still burning and there but as if the nerves themselves could hardly muster the strength to alert the rest of the body.

The woman spoke, saying what was clearly a name but not one he recognized. 

The realization hit him, slowed only by the way his mind struggled to comprehend everything through the fog that seemed to have settled over every inch LIke putting together a puzzle while blind, only able to go off the feel. Annoying, but not impossible.

His soulmate.

There was no distinguishable factor that decided when people switched bodies with their soulmates, only that it happened, lasting for only a few minutes before returning to your rightful bodies, and then around once.a month it would happen again. At least until you found your soulmate.

Chrollo had always held a distant concern for it in the back of his mind, Machi’s soulmate having nearly gotten him killed when doing so in the middle of the fight. Luckily they had been able to manage dodging well enough with only a few minor injuries before switching back. They were found swiftly after that, only a few hours away.

Once they were brought together she got the expected boost in her nen, but she seemed to enjoy the presence of her soulmate more than the increase in strength.  Despite the rough start it seemed his own relationship was going much better than others. Happy, even if they didn’t enjoy the details of his job.

This was a much better scenario considering the situations the troupe leader often found himself in, but it was difficult to feel so with the awful way your body felt. Like he had been kept awake for days while being dragged behind a train, both his mind and body tired and aching, nearly trembling with the effort to keep himself up.

It felt disgusting being this weak, his brows drawn down further. The woman-Jane, her nametag read- called out to him again, thought his time more concerned. A group of others had gathered, all wearing the same black slacks and white button ups. An embroidered logo displaying the name Bella Vista lay on each of them.

“I told you not to agree to stay late.” Despite her harsh words Jane helped him to his feet. Keeping a steady arm around him, she ordered one of the others to clean up the broken plates before leading him through a set of double doors and into a kitchen. There were a few sideways glances from the chefs running about but they were too busy to do so for long. 

Sitting you down on a stool, she pulled the first aid kit off the wall and got to work cleaning the wound, mumbling something about a man named Drew not being happy as well as a few unsavory names.

The kitchen was filled with too many things, all the sights, smells, and sounds all mixing together in one cacophony that made his head spin, unable to rub at the building pressure without smearing blood all over his face.

Countless thoughts ran through his head, all of which only served to make him groan as he attempted to sort through them. Jane gave him a comforting pat on his arm, passing a dose of painkillers for him to swallow dry.

“No more late nights for you. I know you’re trying to get the hours but you can’t be working yourself like this. It’s a wonder you keep on top of all your assignments.”

So you were a student. He wondered what kind, but couldn’t find the energy to ask.

As she bandaged his wounds a sense of vertigo hit him. Closing his eyes, when he opened them again, he found himself sitting on the couch opposite Pakunoda. A cup of tea rested in his hands, posture hunched in on himself. The shift was like being slapped in the face, feeling as if he’d been hit with a shot of adrenaline. The physical exhaustion had left but still lingered in his mind.

“How were they?” He asked, straight to the point. Above almost anyone else in the troupe, Chrollo trusted Pakunoda’s ability to read and judge people.

“Confused at first, but overall rather enjoyable.” Her lips quirked. “They seemed rather concerned about you though.”

No wonder. To go from where you had been to his body must have been just as shocking as it was for him, well rested and at ease. Comfortable even with the plush couch underneath him.

According to Pakunoda you had been a great conversationalist, even before you discovered that she wasn’t his lover- of which you had been embarrassed about until she explained in clear terms that wasn’t the case- but only a friend. Of course she hadn’t divulged too much information about him and kept the conversation steered towards you. She managed to pry out a few more details but you still seemed hesitant, of which he couldn’t blame you.

“They were quite well spoken, and I could only get a few basic things without being run in a polite circle. Could even give you a run for your money.”

Chrollo smiled, finding himself all the more interested in the puzzle you were.

“Contact Shalnark. I have a job for him.”

Despite only being in your body for a few minutes, Chrollo had gathered a wealth of information to find you with. He had a name, your place of work, and the fact that you were a student. Plenty of records that could all be coordinated to pinpoint your location. A part of him felt bad about the condition he had left you in, his hands flexing as he thought about the cuts left along your palms and fingers, but there was nothing to be done about it now.

He would be able to apologize properly soon enough.

______________________________

The second time Chrollo finds himself in your body it’s less than ideal. 

He had all of the intention of making sure you were in a safe place and had in fact actively been working to do so, keeping himself out of trouble around the time your shift would occur. It could hardly be considered his fault that some Hunter had attacked him. While the man had been in far over his head, dispatched with a single blow before he could even touch Chrollo, it hadn’t been a bloodless affair. In fact, he was positively coated in the splattered result. Not the most ideal impression.

Chrollo had been in the middle of washing up, stripped down to his underwear and about to get in the shower, when he once again was subjected to the pitch of vertigo. One moment he was in a quickly steaming bathroom and the next a rather chilly apartment. So cold the tips of his fingers and toes had begun to numb, the only reprieve being a cup of scalding coffee sitting next to him. The blend of caffeine and sugar sat heavy on his tongue, buzzing through his nerves like a live wire and combating the weight behind his eyes. 

He was in an apartment. Yours he assumed, based on the casual position he found himself. Books were scattered all across the table in front of him with so many sticky notes and notes scribbled in the margins it was almost comical. A white noise of rain played from the television while the sharp scent of mint emitted from a nearby defuser. Glasses balanced on the end of your nose, allowing him to see the highlighted text in front of him with the same color marking your hands in places.

The sounds from last time had healed nicely with not even a faint line to show they were there. It was a good thing they hadn’t scarred, he thought to himself as he flexed them. A few new cuts had been added. Small hairline things indicative of paper cuts, your pointer finger wrapped in a bandage and still slightly aching when it moved.

Chrollo wasted no time in standing, head spinning as a reward for his impatience. Shalnark had located you easily with all the information, not even taking a full two days. You were rather far away but that wasn’t an issue for Chrollo. He knew where you were and all the basic information of your life. Who were your close friends and family, most of whom seemed to live a good distance away. Where you worked-two separate jobs it turned out- and how often you did based on your tax forms. You majored in Classical literature and the study of ancient languages and their translations, currently in your final year of getting a Masters degree.

It gave him a decent idea of who you were, and why you seemed to be so perpetually exhausted, but it was only information. He wanted to know who you really were. What made you tick. And what better way to do that then to go through someone’s personal things?

The apartment was a studio, giving him a full view of the intimate aspects of your life you indulged in when no one was around. He wasn’t the type to go snooping through your underwear drawer, but the lack of a proper closet gave him full view to your wardrobe which was rather sparse and well worn apart from a free nicer outfits. It seemed the couch he had been settled on was a futon, pillows and blanket tossed across haphazardly. They looked warm and cozy, making him question why you neglected to use them. His only assumption was it was in another effort to stay awake, the open window letting in the freezing night air that bit into your skin.

An entire wall was covered in printed pictures and notes, a whiteboard tacked to the wall where the writing spilled out over onto the window, the dry erase marker interrupting his view of the alley beyond like an abstract stained glass work.

A coffee pot sat on the counter, the warming light blinking at him from above the nearly empty pot. A still opened bag of grounds sat next to it with a number of coffee filters in the trash. Some clearly old but a concerning amount that looked fresh.

Your fridge and cupboards were in a rather sorry state. If you weren’t going to sleep the least you could do was give yourself proper nutrition but all he found was a decent collection of condiments, a bag of rice, dented cans of beans and other vegetables, and an industrial sized bag of off-brand suckers that was half gone. It made the odd sensation of his stomach make more sense, the telltale feeling of being filled with liquid and nothing else. He didn’t like how it reminded him of the times he’d had nothing to eat but water, filling himself full to stave off the gnawing hunger until he felt sick.

Approaching the bookshelf, it’s littered with endless issues and copies all jammed together in a tight but neat order. It seems your collection had grown too large, spilling out onto the floor in stacks. There were the obvious classic titles he recognized as well as others in languages he didn’t know. A satisfied weight settled on his shoulders as he spotted a few of his own favorites, small tabs of notes sticking out of them. It was tempting to pull them down to see what was written but he didn’t know how long the switch would last, and he would have plenty of time later to pick your brain about it.

What really interested him were the non academic ones, which told him of your true interest. Most were mysteries, all of which had your own notes and predictions he discovered after pulling it from the shelf. You were surprisingly accurate but that was only to be expected. Not only were you smart but the genre could get rather stale and predictable as any other, though he noted the ones you enjoyed more had so many tabs it seemed you had written an entire book yourself. 

What truly entertained him was the romance books he found tucked away in the bottom corner almost as if they were a secret to hide. He took note of the titles, storing the information away to look into later. 

Did you stay awake late reading these, sacrificing your health for a few precious moments of escape? He preferred if you took bettter care of yourself, though with what his intuition and the information Shalnark had been able to procure he assumed that the free time you got was rare in the first place.

He eyed your stack of notes and scattering of pens on the table.

Chrollo was in fact there for only about eight minutes. The sense of falling hit him once again, quickly followed by the feeling of water pelting his skin and the exhaustion gone. But even as he was in his own body the burning feeling of his eyes didn’t fade and it took him a moment to realize it was from crying as a hiccup shook his shoulders.

He was sitting in the shower, back pressed against the wall, hotel towel in hand stained pink and skin rubbed raw. It seemed you had been less than excited to find yourself in such a situation, anyone shocked to find themself suddenly covered in blood especially after what could be considered a successful first swap on his end with your pleasant meeting with Pakunoda.

He still thought it was a bit of an overreaction but he commended your rationale of not running and simply fixing the situation at hand. There would have been no point in doing so after all but the human mind did strange things when frightened, and with this he felt he got yet another delightful peak into your mind.

Finishing cleaning himself up, Chrollo stepped out of the bathroom to discover the body still laying just outside. The blood was smeared in one area, hand and footprints telling him you must have fallen over it when you went to explore the room. It was dark after all and would be an easy thing to do. Thankfully his body wasn’t as easily damaged as your own.

This would only complicate things however, and his hope of a casual meeting were dashed. Even more so when he got a notification from Shalnark that your phone had called the police. It seemed he would have to go with plan B.

______________________________

You had no desire to meet your soulmate. A sharp turn from the way you had dreamed about it when you were younger, growing more and more fearful that you were one of the few people without one the older you got.

The first transition had been almost too easy. You had been working a double shift after staying up all night before to finish an analysis and get to an early morning class, hardly comprehending the world around you but desperate for the extra money to go towards your tuition. You were so close to having the semester covered in time to get access to your final classes for next semester and not be forced to have last pick due to an accounting hold. 

Your feet hurt and bones ached, wanting nothing more than to get home and crawl into bed, but also knew the rough outline of your paper on discrepancies in translation of the late Sutran empire was due in two days. The more you had done, the more feedback you could get. 

Carrying dishes back to the kitchen to be washed, you suddenly found yourself reenergized with a beautiful woman staring at you from across the table, her head tilted in question.

“Chrollo?” It took a moment before you realized she was talking to you, stunned by the way everything didn’t hurt for the first time in weeks. 

“Ah, I’m sorry, I-“ you pause, not knowing what to say. You were strangers after all. The truth seemed to be the most simple answer. 

“I’m not him?” 

It came out sounding more like a question, and the woman seemed just as confused, brows furrowing until they shot up in realization. It was at the same moment you realized you were in a hotel room, dots connecting before you could stop them, thinking you had just interrupted two people who were about to get down and dirty.

You weren’t mad by any means- it was completely normal for people to date others before meeting their soulmate and even times where they chose to stay with their previous partner- but more so embarrassed at the fact. Apologies spilled forth before you could stop them, standing and trying to escape the awkward situation. The woman, Pakunoda as she would introduce herself, was quick to calm you down, assuring that she had only been meeting with Chrollo as a friend. 

You didn’t know if she was just lying to make you feel better but she was still kind, getting you a drink and making conversation. The questions were a bit personal, especially for someone you just met, but you answer the ones you felt comfortable doing so while steering away from anything that could be too identifying. Soulmate or not you still had no idea who these people were. Most had at least six swaps before any real information was exchanged. 

Pakunoda seemed just as evasive with her own answers so you didn’t feel too bad. When you swapped back, stomach fluttering as your vision blacked out, you came to in the kitchen, sipping on a glass of water as Jane put the first aid kit back.

Or course you had been embarrassed about the situation and fearful that you would get an earful, but she’d been understanding that you hadn’t necessarily been the one to drop them. Drew wasn’t likely to be and you were already dreading the amount he would take from your check to cover the destroyed dishes.

While excited to know that you did have a soulmate it was also a rather inopportune time. You couldn’t go galivanting off to find him, nor did you have the information to do so. It was more embarrassing that such a thing had happened, deducing that your soulmate had some level of refinement based on the room and clothes of which he wore.

Regardless, he would have to wait. You had your studies to finish before you even though about romance. By the time you were graduating it would be appropriate to initiate a meeting and you could take it from there. Until then you just hoped he wouldn’t switch during any of your tests. 

Or break any more plates.

Your focus on school didn’t stop you from trying to dig up some information, curious by nature. Chrollo, Pakunoda had called him. An odd name. When you tried looking it up online there were few leads that seemed promising and without a last name or location you could hardly venture to guess who he was.

Still, his name rolled around in your head, feeling just a bit buzzed whenever you remember it, though that could just as easily be the coffee.

You knew when your second meeting was coming up but the date slipped your mind as you studied for an upcoming test, promising you would sleep the entirety of the next day as long as you weren’t called in to work.

The window was cracked to help keep you awake along with the pot and a half of coffee you’d consumed, the cold air contrasted as your eyes slipped closed, jolting awake to find yourself in a steamy bathroom.

The face that stared back at you from the mirror was rather handsome. Pale skin accompanied by dark eyes, an elegant charm even when contorted into a look of surprise. 

The marking on the forehead was unexpected, your last experience leaving you with the impression he would have a distaste for such things. In fact, you had even been a bit worried about potentially being matched with someone from such a seemingly high social standing, worried that he would be disappointed. It wasn’t unheard of for soulmates to be shunned based on social standings but the kindness you had been treated with had given you a bit of hope.

It took a moment to register the blood flecked across his face, not realizing what it was at first. When you went to wipe it away more was streaked, looking down to discover  hands coated in the drying liquid which splashed along the center of his chest.

You stumbled out of the bathroom, finding it hard to breathe in the humidity, only to trip over something in the dark. Light spilled from the cracked bathroom door illuminating the corpse on the floor. Even if the amount of blood hadn’t been enough to tell you he was dead then the missing head was a giveaway. Your stomach rose in rebellion, barely able to make it back to the bathroom in time as you slipped on the blood covering the laminate floor. And walls. And the ceiling. 

Once there was nothing left but bile coming out you felt a wave of disgust overcome you, stomach turning as the smell of iron continued to permeate the air. Grabbing a towel, it was all you do to make it into the shower before your legs have out, scrubbing away the blood as the pattern of the cool tile behind you left marks in skin that wasn’t yours.

This is not what you had been expecting. Just who was your soulmate? Some kind of gangster? The two swaps were like night and day to one another. To go from the friendly face and comforting atmosphere Pakunoda provided to this?

The tears wouldn’t stop coming, unable to get the image of the man out of your head knowing the body was still waiting just outside the bathroom door.

You thought it may have been the heat getting to you, but as your head dipped and jerked back up you found yourself back in your apartment, reclined on the couch as if you’d never left. The panic sure didn’t, hardly able to keep it together as you grabbed your phone to call the police. Even if you didn’t know where he was you could try to give them enough information to try and link the crime somewhere. Soulmate or not you weren’t going to let a serial killer run around doing whatever he wanted.

A part of you hesitated as your fingers hovered over the call button. 

What if it had been in self-defense? He didn’t seem like a killer. But that was what all the best ones were like. How they got away with it for so long. You heard a news story of a man who was killed by his soulmate. They were a killer who didn’t want to risk being exposed. Ironically enough it was their soulmate’s death that got them caught.

What if he did the same thing to you? Cut you open with a knife or tossed you into the river with a weight around your ankles. Or maybe he would tie you up in a basement and toss you scraps whenever he remembered.

As the line rang, a flash of pink caught your eye. 

There, tapped to the top right of your computer, was a sticky note. Not one you had left among the countless others that scattered your papers where there wasn’t enough room to make notes. This one was written in an elegant, flowing script.

‘Get some rest’

—————————————————

The police were of little help.

Even after you had given them his name, they said there was little they could do but log the report and keep an eye out.

Now even when you had the time to sleep it evaded you, relying on medication just to get a few hours every few days as anxiety gripped your insides, testing like a clown with a balloon. It had begun to take its toll on you, falling asleep standing up and nodding off during lectures. Where you went you couldn’t help but feel watched, as if there were an invisible pair of eyes just around the corner you could never quite catch.

winter break was coming up and most of your cams were over, somehow managing to keep enough sense to pass. Never had you been so grateful to have kept your grades high, exams making a minimal dent though you suspected some professors you were a bit closer with  may have recognized your exhaustion and slipped a few extra points in. 

The restaurant would be closed for repairs as the majority of the student population went back home for the holidays, and your TA position would be transferred to another class next semester. It left you with nothing but freedom for a week, and you planned on spending it doing nothing more than sleeping, eating, and half-watching movies.

It was unfortunate that your swap was going to take place sometime around then though you hoped if you were asleep then you might not even realize it had happened and be exposed to another set of horrors. 

Once you graduate it would be best to move and then keep moving. Already you were looking into positions that would require frequent travel instead of working with curators as you had originally hoped.

Submitting your final assignment of the semester, you groaned, stretching your arms above your head as you decided getting takeout was a good reward, getting enough to have leftovers for tomorrow when you wouldn’t want to leave your bed let alone the apartment.

But as you reached for your phone the now familiar tingle hit you moments before feeling as if you’d been dropped.

the city now lay before you, wind blasting in your face from the rooftop you perched on. So close to the edge that you nearly fell off, arms windmilling before falling back away from the drop.

Your breath hitched not just because of the close accident, but because you recognized the city. It was where you lived. You could see the same water tower with its distinctive mural from two streets from where you lived, now rising in the near distance. Even looking down the street was familiar, having taken it home more than once when you were unable to get off the bus in time at the correct stop.

Wandering back over to the ledge an awful thought overtakes you as you stare down at the city below. 

What if you jumped? You could end it right here and now. But there was no telling if you would go back to your own body if killed while in his. Besides, while you may be linked to a killer through some mysterious bond you weren’t one yourself. Just having the briefest flash of the thought was enough to have guilt eating away at your stomach.

The spinning sense of vertigo overtook you once again, finding yourself back in your apartment.

He was here. In your city. It didn’t take a genius to guess as to why even if you wanted to believe it was all just a coincidence. 

You reach for your phone, flipping through the contacts for the cell number the investigator had given you to call if you got any more information. 

She didn’t pick up on the first ring. Or the second. Or third.

A glance at the clock told you it wasn’t an unreasonable time to call, but there was always the chance that she was doing something else. It was tempting to call the emergency number but you hesitated, remembering the way they had talked to you last time, emphasizing the fact that calling for a non-emergency could land you with a fine.

Reluctantly, and with shaking hands, you instead sent a text asking her to call you as soon as possible, and that your soulmate was here.

Appetite ruined, you curled up in bed, too scared to sleep even after double checking that your doors and windows were locked and the curtains were drawn. It was impossible to pay attention to anything you tried turning on, ears perked for the slightest sound of someone trying to break in. You opted to stare at the dark screen of your phone, waiting for an incoming call or message back.

Around an hour later you heard a knock on your door, breaking the silence as a new wave of anxiety rolled through you.

Was it him? But why would he bother to knock and give himself away? Maybe he was just that confident.

Cautiously you approached the door, the small (and only) knife from the kitchen clenched in your hand. As silent as possible you peer through the peephole, jolting at the sight.

A policeman stood outside your door, hand raised as he knocked on the door once again and called your name.

”We've gotten news regarding the report you made on your alleged soulmate, and it’s rather urgent.”

The door was opened with lightning speed, greeted by the smiling face of the officer. He gives a quick flash of his badge, assuaging some of your suspicions. Apparently you’d been watching too many horror moves.

”Sorry to disturb you, but our systems hit a match on a man you described.” 

“He’s here.” You say, almost a whisper, fear clogging your throat. The officer, still smiling, tilts his head. His brows draw together slightly, the only sigh he’s concerned by your words.

“Oh, so you’ve switched with him recently?”

Numbly, you nod.

“That’s not good. It seems he’s been linked to other crimes.” Blue eyes flicker towards the chain still keeping the door half closed. A recent installment you’d made yourself, security deposit thrown to the wind. “It would be best if you came with me.”

“What?” Police custody? Was he really someone that dangerous? Sure you knew he wasn’t the most sane person but this?

“I’m afraid it’s the only way to ensure your safety. If he does show up you can call the emergency line, but I can’t guarantee how fast we’ll be able to get here even if I stay in the area.”

The thought of Chrollo coming here, to your home, your safe space, has your stomach churning. This wasn’t a well-off area and response times were long due to the high crime. What if they couldn’t get here in time? You’d thought he didn’t know where you lived but if he was in the city then chances were he also knew your address. Maybe you hadn’t been careful enough. Had left one of your bills on the counter or not hidden your ID well enough. None of the times you’d woken were you anywhere but where you left, giving you a false sense of security.

The officer seemed to tire of your silence, turning around and heading for the stairs.

“If you change your mind you can-“

“Wait!”

He tilts his head back, blond hair peeling from his hat as he stares.

“Can I grab some things to take with me?”

“Of course.” His smile seems genuine even if it makes you uneasy. “I’ll wait out here, but don’t take too long.”

You nod, shutting the door and turning to scramble about your apartment, stuffing everything you need into a duffel bag. A decent selection of clothes and toiletries along with your computer and charger. 

All the while your mind races, eyes flickering to the window and scanning the roofline of the adjacent building. Each time you half expect to see Chrollo perched there, waiting and ready to strike.

Halfway back to the door your eyes catch the bookcase, bag already weighed down by a few choice textbooks you were trying to get a head start on reading for next semester. But you could pack a few fun things to read, right? Something to take the edge off your nerves and help calm you. Who knows how long you'll be gone for.

In the end you decide on a handful of your favorites, carefully tucking them into the bag before making sure everything is turned off.

The officer is still waiting in the hall when you emerge, typing on an odd looking phone. He glances at your bag but if there’s an issue with the amount you have packed he doesn’t say anything. 

Just outside his patrol car waits, the familiar branding of the local department both soothing your worries. 

He allows you to sit in the front seat, joking he would only put you in the back of you caused any issues. Well, you think he was joking. It’s hard to tell with the way he seems to take everything lightheartedly.

The lights of the city flash by as the vehicle makes its way through the streets. Your eyes scan the alley, looking for the faintest outline, and every time you stop at light you grow nervous.

“Where are we going?” The sign proudly stating the city limit passes by, the road transitioning to a highway and the buildings becoming less frequent, more residential. You had thought he would stop at the station first to let them know but instead he continues on.

“There’s a hotel just a few hours from here. Well stop there to rest for a little while while I confirm with my superior what we’re doing.”

That made sense, but you still don’t let yourself fully relax. Not even when he offers you one of the emergency blankets from the back to get some rest, commenting that you look tired. Instead you do your best to remain awake and aware, upright and stiff as you watch the endless stretch of road ahead. It was too dark to read, and you wouldn’t have been able to work up the courage to ask him to stop regardless. 

Your companion didn’t seem bothered talking to you, though he was rather tight-lipped on the situation apart from some basic details. A need to know basis apparently, though you would consider your involvement in the situation enough to know. You’d still feel bad about getting him fired when he was just doing his job and by all means was helping you out, even stopping to grab you something to eat. On him as well. The greasy food was almost luxurious, wondering when the last time was that you had allowed yourself to indulge in such a thing with a budget so tight it was practically waterproof.

He even got you a milkshake. A milkshake.

A part of you hoped he would be the officer you stuck around for the duration of whatever it was they were going to do.

But with a lull in the conversation and a full stomach, combined with the ended stress of classes and the secure presence of someone who was more physically adept, you felt yourself nodding off. Your head dipped, jerking back just as suddenly each time until it hurt. Eventually you allowed yourself to rest against the window, the cool glass doing little to keep you awake.

Maybe you could rest your eyes for just a moment. Just to make them stop hurting as much. And still you had a mumbling conversation, but as you asked him why he was the one picked to come and get you when you thought it would be someone other than the local ranks, you never heard the answer, drifting off to sleep with the steady rumble of the car beneath you.

———————————————-

Waking up was always an arduous task. It meant another day of work and a headache. Leaving the comparatively comfortable embrace of your futon. Much more preferable even if it did make your back hurt without the mattress topper you had gotten for Christmas. Being in bed meant you could rest and not have to worry about a dozen other things, even if half of the time your dreams consisted of work and school related things.There was nothing more disheartening than doing an assignment only to wake up and discover it hadn’t actually been worked on at all.

But this wasn’t like the other times. There was no alarm screening in your ear after being silenced twice before. No complaints from the radiator on the corner of the room that had been there since the building was first constructed decades ago. The edges of textbooks didn’t dig into your sides after falling asleep studying.

Instead you felt as if you were floating on a cloud, the space around you hovering at the perfect temperature. It seemed too good to be true and for once you thought that your dreams were giving you a break. But as you roll over to get more comfortable you’re assaulted by light, flinching back at the brightness.

It’s what finally wakes you, pulled from the last dregs of sleep as your eyes crack open.

The room you're in is most definitely not your little studio apartment. The walls are not brick but an off white, and the ceiling is smooth in contrast to the popcorn texture that should be there. The realization has you jolting up, blankets dropping to your waist as you take in the space.

A mix of sleep and confusion disorients you for a moment, panicking at the unfamiliar place until you remember your conversation in the car, the sight of your bag in the corner jogging the memory. This must be the hotel he was talking about. You vaguely remember falling asleep in the car, so that means you were so tired you don’t remember walking up here or he had carried you. With everything else came the realization that your killer soulmate had come looking for you.

The sheets crumple in your hands, the soft fabric a contrast to the rising panic, attempting to calm yourself down.

You were safe. An officer came and got you and took you somewhere far away where he couldn’t find you. They would catch him and you could go back to your normal life.

The last thought wasn’t as exciting as it should have been, and you blamed the comfortable bed. It was hard to miss your futon when this is what you got in return. Maybe they could take a few extra days. That is, depending on how long they kept you.

The sudden realization that this might go on for weeks, months, maybe even years hadn’t crossed your mind until now. What if they never caught him? What if you had to live in hiding for the rest of your life? It would make all the work you’d done through school mute, part of you concerned and the other part annoyed.

It’s with a new sense of determination that you swing your legs out of bed, only now realizing that you were still wearing the same clothes as when you left. You cringe, feeling gross in the rumpled garments. You’d already worn them enough with finals and hardly having time to do laundry as well as not being able to face dragging it all the way to the basement and back up.

Peeking into the adjoining room you discovered the bathroom, pristine and gleaming. You couldn’t hear any sound from the door you assumed led to the main area. He may not even be here right now, or maybe he was sleeping as well, the dim sunlight coming through the curtain telling you the sun was still near the horizon. You felt bad at the thought of waking him after he had driven all night.

Surely taking a shower wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world?

The warm water felt even better than you’d imagined, relaxing under the flow, just enjoying the way it relaxed your muscles. It was much warmer than your own shower would get and you would undoubtedly last longer, allowing you to take your time. You nearly fell asleep even, finally deciding it was time to get out as you wrapped one of the fluffy towels around you, wondering if you could snag one before you left.

Fresh let showered and dried, you allowed yourself a bit longer to linger in the room, sorting through your bag. You were a bit sad to discover one of your favorite books missing, wishing you had grabbed it even though you swore you had. After reading a few chapters of a romance you had been in the middle of you finally decided it was time to venture out, hearing the sound of a faucet running and assuming your guardian had gotten back.

Padding over to the door, a sudden wave of anxiety hit as you reached for the handle, taken aback by the suddenness. It was like everything in you was screaming that this was a bad idea.

Where had that come from? Maybe you were still just on edge from the whole ordeal? It didn’t feel like the normal anxiety that followed you around but rather an all-consuming dread that preceded a poor decision.

Whatever the case you would need to know what was happening next, and so stealed yourself and headed out.

It seemed you were in a rather fancy accommodation, a sitting area just outside with a small kitchen area attached. Much more than you had been expecting and vaguely you wondered what the budget was for civilian protection. In all honesty you’d been expecting a rundown motel to keep a low profile but you weren’t some to complain.

Your guardian was nowhere to be seen, but the balcony doors were open, and you could see the shadow of someone outside. Walking further you shivered, wind chilling as it breezed inside, disturbing the curtains as it cooled the dampness that cling to your skin.

As you rounded the corner, ready to ask your traveling companion what the next steps were, you stopped short. Because the man sitting at the table didn’t have the same boyish charm as the officer, blond hair and blue eyes replaced by a striking black. His hair was a bit different, not slicked back but instead hanging loosely around his face, but you would recognize him anywhere even if the marking on his forehead wasn’t a dead giveaway.

Fortunately he’s wearing more clothing this time, the crisp collard shirt and dark slacks make him look as if he could be a normal man on his way to a nice function. Polished shoes tap the ground in an unknown pattern, a picture of contentment as a breeze ruffles his hair.

Chrollo’s eyes lifted from the book he had in hand. Your book. The one you’d been looking for earlier. He was already halfway through, fingers skimming the page as he read. As soon as he saw you it was gently shut, laid on the table with care as his hand rested on the cover.

“You have some interesting thoughts, though I wouldn’t say I agree with your analysis of Schandor's opinion of hieroglyphs.” He says it with such ease. As if you were two friends having a scholarly discussion and not a killer and the person he’d forced to witness a crime scene. Dark eyes take you in with careful consideration where you stand, frozen, taking in your clothes and damp hair, seemingly pleased.

Your eyes flicker back to the main room, hoping to catch sight of your guardian only to come up empty. Maybe he was already dead. If not you could only hope he chose now of all times to come back. You could be angry later about him leaving you alone long enough for Chrollo to break in and make himself comfortable.

“If you’re looking for him don’t bother.”

Your attention snaps back, startled to see Chrollo now standing. There was only one man he could be referring to, and as embarrassing as it was to admit you hadn’t even asked the officer’s name, too relieved by his presence to care. It hadn’t felt like a pressing matter at the time. And now he was gone without you ever having asked so.

“You killed him?” 

Chrollo pauses, head tilting as he fixes you with an amused stare.

“I thought you would have come to the answer already, but I suppose your senses are still dull even after a full day of sleep.”

Your eyes widen, realizing with the fading light that it wasn’t early morning but late afternoon. Which meant you had slept for almost a full twenty-four hours.

He smiles, once again scanning you from head to toe. “I’m glad you feel so at ease. Much better than the state I normally find you in. But no matter. You won’t have to worry about such things any longer. I can assure you, you’ll get all the rest you need and more. Well, most of the time.”

Chrollo steps forward, silent as when he stood, and the moment he does you bolt. 

Making a break for the door you don’t care for your lack of shoes, only concerned with getting as far away as possible. You make it to the door, wrenching it open and nearly crashing into the opposite wall of the hall, feet sliding over the polished wooden floors. Without much sense of direction you run, not bothering to shut the door behind you. Thankfully it seems you made the right call, spotting the elevators up ahead. 

They ding as you approach, smoothly opening on well-maintained tracks to reveal a familiar shock of blond hair. He’s out of his uniform now, dressed in a vest with cutoff sleeves and looking much more casual in the pastel ensemble. That’s of minimal concern as you push him back inside frantically jamming at the button to the first floor. Stairs would have been better but there was no time to look for them.

“He found us! We have to get out of here!” 

Your movements are stopped by a firm grip on your hand, halting you from pressing the buttons. Regardless, the door begins to shut as you try to pull away, frustration seeping into your words.

“What are you doing? We have to-“

The door stops before it can fully close, a pristinely polished shoe wedged in the gap as it opens back up to reveal Chrollo, as at ease as can be. You jump, grabbing the arm of your companion. The one who assured you, you were safe.

But instead of pulling a weapon, pushing Chrollo away, or doing anything that could be considered attacking he only looked between you, just as cheerful as before.

“Wow. I’m surprised you let them get this far.” You freeze, his words too familiar. Too friendly. It dawns on you all too late your mistake. But the grip of your friend turned captor doesn’t allow you to get away, strong as if he’d slapped a pair of cuffs on you.

“Some things are best learned through firsthand experience, wouldn’t you agree?”

In any other situation? Maybe. This one? Most definitely not. Your shock seems to amuse Chrollo, a smile lifting his eyes. He was too smug, and oh how much you wished to punch him in the face.

“I knew you would react rather negatively to seeing me so I was forced to enlist the help of a friend. The transition went much better than if I had forced you, and I hope you appreciate the consideration and care put forth by both Shalnark and I. From what I hear you had a decently pleasant time on the way here.”

You struggle as you’re handed back to Chrollo, who holds you with one arm firmly against his side like a part reigning in an unruly child. With his other he takes the bag that Shalnark had been holding, filled with clothes and other basic necessities from the looks of it.

”No need to worry about the phone. Messages have been sent to all the contacts. Even the ones who think to look now will have a few months before they think anything is wrong. The GPS tracker was turned off before we got out of the city.”

You’re phone! Shalnark had taken a bit into the car ride stating they wanted to go through the scam calls you ignored to see if any of them could have been the man they were looking for. It seems that was, what you now knew, a lie as well and you kick yourself for being so stupid i n the first place. With a full night of rest the entire situation seems too obvious.

There was no need for them to say this in front of you, the only explanation being that they wanted you to hear. To know that no one would be looking for you with whatever messages he had sent out, and no way to tack you down.

Chrollo said his thanks, turning you back towards the room as Shalnark waved goodbye from the elevator, the door closing on him and sealing your fate as you were now left alone with Chrollo.

The killer.

"If you try to scream, I’ll have to take care of anyone who comes looking.” He murmurs in your ear as you pass by the other doors, leading you back to where the one you had run out of only minutes before still remained ajar. He closed it with an absentminded move of his foot, lock sliding into place.

He had expected you to run.

It turns out the small kitchenette was well stocked, Chrollo preparing a simple dinner that smelled delicious even before it was finished. The entire time you remained sat where he had left you. Despite his easy nature as he moved about the air seemed stifling, unable to take a full breath no matter how hard you tried. Your eyes darted over every inch of the place, taking in every detail, every clue. For the first time in months it felt as if you could think clearly, your brain working overtime without the inhibition of adenosine laying thick over your mind.

“You won’t find one.”

Chrollo sat a plate down in front of you, and which you realized was one of your favorites to make when you had a bit more money. It shouldn’t surprise you given everything else that had happened, and the implication was clear; he knew more about you than you previously thought. This wasn’t just him finding you by chance one night but a carefully constructed plan and execution involving multiple people and parts.

“What?”

“A body. I assumed that’s what you were looking for.” He placed himself in the chair across from you, folding his hands together, a picture of ease even as he gave what could be taken as an apologetic smile.

“It was rather unfortunate for us to switch at that time and was not my intention to expose you to such a sight at the time.” His words implied that he would eventually, confirming in your mind the fact that it had not been a one-time occurrence. “It’s reasonable that you were a bit spooked.”

A bit spooked? Is that what he thought? No, you were downright terrified of the man sitting across from you. But now wasn’t the time to lose your head. He clearly thought highly of both himself and his intelligence, his posture relaxed by gaze calculating, not missing a single one of your movements. 

He did seem surprised when you picked up your fork, digging into your food which you begrudgingly acknowledged actually tasted good.

“Accepting food just like that? Not even going to ask me to taste it first?” He pressed.

“You’re not going to kill me.” You said, sounding much calmer than you felt. His brow rose in response, seemingly amused.

“Oh?”

“You’ve gone through all the trouble of bringing me here unscathed along with a choice of belongings. And from your words it sounds as if you intend to keep me around for at least the foreseeable future.” You set your fork down, taking a drink. “Not the actions of someone who is going to kill me, soulmate or not.”

Besides, if you really had been asleep for a whole day then it meant you’d gone quite a while without eating. You weren’t going to be kidnapped as well as hungry.

“You’re much more entertaining when you’re properly rested.” Chrollo grinned. It was difficult to resist the urge to splash your water in his face but somehow you withheld. Instead you fixed him with an even stare, unflinching.

“Why kidnap me? Of course you could guess that I wasn’t going to be the most excited to see you but then why not just kill me?”

Chrollo leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin. Confidence radiated from him, not in an annoying way of someone who thought they were better than everyone else, but the cool ease of someone who knew they were.

“You won’t know anything about it, but in simple terms I’m stronger with you alive.” You raise a brow to which he only laughs, waving the silent question away. “You’ll learn of it in due time. For now I suppose you could say it’s because you entertain me. Sure, I could have you locked away as some of my acquaintances do but I find that to be no fun. Not when I can have you here with me and have your mind to pick.”

“So as long as I entertain you I’ll be kept around?”

The knife accompanying your meal sits neatly beside the plate, the sharpened utensil reflecting your own warped face back at you. While you weren’t a killer, could you really feel guilty stabbing the man who had kidnapped you? Maybe. But it would undoubtedly be drowned out by the immense relief of getting away from him. The universe must have an odd sense of humor to put you together. Couldn’t it have been some he could go off and happily do his murders with?

“Please don’t.” You look up at Chrollo, who has now leaned back across the table towards you. His hand reaches to rest atop yours, tightening when you try to pull back. Yet there is no strain on his face. Only the same calm composure he’s maintained through the entire ordeal.

“I would hate for things to get violent when we’ve already gotten off on the wrong foot.”

An eerie feeling creeps up your spine, panic spiking as the tone of the room shifts. Not long. Just a fraction of a second really, where it felt as if the air turned to ice and the pressure increased tenfold.

Your body jolted before you could stop it, nearly knocking the glass of water to the floor at the sudden intensity and only kept in pace by Chrollo. It was like a hundred panic attacks all rolled into one, barely able to get a breath in as your mind turned jumbled, adrenaline flooding your system. 

Is this what early humans felt like alone in the woods at night, with only basic weapons to protect themselves against a world full of threats? Maybe they were even doing a bit better than you, as they had some small chance, knowingly born into a world that ought to eat them. You were a burned-out college student whose only physicality came from the number of books you could cram in your pack and carry through campus. Maybe you got an extra point for endurance. But it was nothing against the apex predator that sat across from you now.