REBORN LIKE A PHEONIX WING !

“Childbirth.”

“Oh! Well- that’s just…”. You look away, overstimulated by his intense gaze. “So … sad.” You laugh again. “Sorry!” You snort, “it’s hard to care for Emily in this moment- this is a stupid play!” You admit, dramatically throwing your hands in the air as your body throws itself back onto the ground.

The ceiling has more personality than Emily Webb does!

“I’ve read it sober, I’ve read it high, I’ve read it drunk; and I still can’t find a way to care for any of these damn characters- a classic Sahartan play my ass…” you roll your eyes. “What, you meet the denizens of the town in the first act, then we have a random wedding for the second, and now I’m dead? You can’t even grow attached to Emily or anyone else-“

“You’re not supposed to be attached to the characters, it’s about the message that ordinary life is precious-“

“Oh shut up! Don’t you have a massacre to orchestrate in the morning?!” You stick your tongue out at him. He scoffs, but entertains you nonetheless.

“It’s a heist and that has nothing to do with Our Town.”

“You’re such a hypocrite!”

“I never claimed to be a virtuous man! Dammit- let’s switch plays.” He groans, lying next to your limp body on the cold floor. You feel his hand slip into yours, giving it a subtle squeeze. “Is it that difficult to find a message in something so simple…” kuroro grumbles. You both stare at the ceiling still, you a tad too dizzy and him a tad too frustrated.

“It’s a play about Sahertans from the 1950s doing a bunch of nothing until they die, so what? Ordinary life is taken for granted by the living- how… tragic!” Sarcasm laces itself within your words. “It’s not saying anything profound and I hate the nothing characters and their nothing town.”

You lay in silence for a few moments before he speaks again.

“Is that how you felt growing up?”

.

.

.

“I’m too drunk to have this conversation.” You whine, turning over on your left side to look at him. Chrollo closes his eyes and let out a deep breath, but he didn’t turn to face you.

He’s upset, clearly.

“My childhood was different from yours.”

“Obviously.”

“Roro, it was boring!”

“I sometimes wish I had boring.” He admits, finally turning to face you. He avoids eye contact, opting to look at the floor instead. “To have both parents around, maybe a sister to argue with on our walks to school in the morning. There’s food on the table once my father picks me up from baseball practice too. And my mother would scold me for stealing a sweet from the fridge at night.”

Silence follows, until it doesn’t.

“That wasn’t the case at all, and we can’t fix that.” You sigh, extending your right hand to his face. His eyes close once more. You open your mouth to speak but he cuts you off before you have the chance.

“Would I understand myself then? Would I be more virtuous? Happy? What could I have achieved then? I was a bright child, you know. I didn’t have the right resources, I wasn’t born into that.”

“No, you weren’t.”

Silence ensues once more, but only for a moment.

“I didn’t have any grandparents around, or a sister. And my mom wouldn’t let me go outside or out with friends at all. You know, other people… um-“ for fucks sake! You didn’t mean to make him upset. “Outside of Meteor City suffer too. My parents experienced that too. Mother was almost kidnapped, and that uh- trauma stuck with her. A lot of stuff like that happened where they were from. I couldn’t do shit most of the time, and both of my parents were too tired to do anything by the time I got home.” You internally cringe, there’s a reason why you never spoke of your childhood. “I was lonely! I sat in my room and used my imagination to entertain myself everyday. I didn’t even make anything of myself! I dropped out of college before I could get my degree. Boring and safe doesn’t always lead to better outcomes.”

.

..

…

“Do you love me because I give you a sense of excitement you’ve never had?”

“Do you love me because I give you a sense of boringness you’ve never had?”

…”touché.”

You feel his muscles rise under your hand, he’s smiling now. All of this because of Our Town, god dammit, you hate this play. Unfortunately, he doesn’t.

You let go of his face and sit up.

“What was my line again?” You grumble, looking around Kuroro’s living room for the script he made (and highlighted) for you. Chrollo beams, and stands up with a few fumbles. He walks towards the black couch and grabs your papers, reading over them.

“But mother Gibbs, how can I ever forget that life? It’s all I know, it’s all I had.” He quotes, the melancholy dripping from his voice with ease.