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"I would never hurt you," Chrollo says. "Not unless you asked me to."
Kurapika stares at him. His eyes seem to say you've hurt me enough, but Chrollo knows he's hurt him enough. They both know, and it brought them together.
Even with him so close, Kurapika can't bring himself to ask him why he did it. He's afraid the answer will be incomprehensible, or worse, that his hatred of Chrollo would cease to be simple, direct.
"Do you want to come closer?" Chrollo asks him, barely shifting from where he sits, looking past Kurapika, past the contents of the room.
"Why did you ask me to come here?" Kurapika is at eye level when he steps forward and asks, taut and deliberate, waiting for a response that won't satisfy him.
"I wanted to see you." Chrollo smiles, or approximates something like it. Kurapika doesn’t react. "I'm guessing it would be in bad taste to joke about tearing out your eyes to finish the job."
Kurapika rides the flash of anger smoothly and forces it to pass. "You have nothing to gain from me." He wants to add that he won't let him, but he stops himself. He can’t afford to start a fight here. He shouldn’t have come.
"I think you'll find we disagree." Chrollo slowly leans inward, as if measuring a distance between them that will please him. "It's pointless for me to apologize for the unforgivable, I know. I won't bore you with the details."
Kurapika wants to kill him. He wants to leave before the impulse gets the better of him, but he can't move. His eyes fix on Chrollo's lips as he speaks instead, as curiosity builds against his will.
Chrollo continues. "I lost track of what I wanted." He sits back up, contemplative. "It's frustrating, really. I started this with such a clear goal in mind. After chasing it for so long, it became too big and dissipated before I knew it." For the first time, Chrollo looks at Kurapika dead on. The unsettling void in his eyes puts him further on edge. Chrollo seems to catch himself on a tangent. "I'm sorry. I'm aware none of this makes any sense to you. It's okay. You don't have to decipher anything.”
Kurapika stifles a scoff. He doesn’t know why he suppresses it. There was nothing worth deciphering in Chrollo’s vague admission, and people like him deserve to know when their pretentiousness falls flat. He stays silent.
Chrollo’s voice is dull as always, but it overwhelms the space of the quiet room anyway. “I want to offer you something."
Kurapika steps back as Chrollo rises from his seat, lifting his gaze up to match his. He watches him peel his coat off gently, deliberately. It’s enough of a window for Kurapika to enter his space and get to his throat. He doesn’t.
"It's not much, but I want to make it up to you." He briefly twists to place the coat where he was sitting, and for a moment, Kurapika processes him as human. In that brief second, in that exact angle and shadow, Chrollo looks mundane. He smoothes his clothes and stands before Kurapika, eyes of void trained on him again from habit or interest.
"You can have me," he says simply. "You can do whatever you need."
There's nothing Kurapika can think to say. Only his fists clench reflexively. Chrollo is paces away from him, completely unguarded, and still his body won’t act on Chrollo’s request.
"This is only a small portion of the retribution you deserve. Sadly, my body is all I can offer you." If he picks up on Kurapika's surprise, there's no way to tell. He attempts a smile again, but fury contorts Kurapika’s face enough to interrupt him.
Kurapika’s irises flood with crimson. "There is nothing. Nothing I could do to you would repair even a fraction of the hurt I carry." His voice reverberates in a way Chrollo’s can’t. Kurapika expects to feel redundant for saying something they both know very well, but Chrollo's gaze wavers at his words. His eyes are back to opaque blackness in seconds, but Kurapika won’t forget this.
"I won't fight," he says, as if offering an apology. "I can't fight."
Kurapika is too smart to take Chrollo’s words at face value. "You don't want to fight, and that’s different. You obviously have your reasons, but I'm not asking them from you. I don't care." These are meant as parting words, but Kurapika still doesn't move.
"I want this." Chrollo's voice rings like a child’s who's seen too much.
When he blinks, tears roll down Kurapika’s cheeks. They sear him, feel red-hot. "This isn't about what you want. You don't get to decide that slapping you around is going to make me feel better. Not even killing you would make me feel better." He can tell his eyes are back to normal because the pressure leaves his skull as he admits this. The truth of it knots his stomach.
"I didn’t intend it to." Chrollo drops down to his knees in front of Kurapika. The movement is odd and doesn't resemble a plea in any way Kurapika has seen. Before he can think about why, Kurapika steps forward and places his hand on Chrollo's cheek. Chrollo closes his eyes.
"I want to feel something. I've forgotten how," Chrollo says. It occurs to Kurapika that Chrollo might not know how to ask for what he wants, that the word please isn’t a part of his vocabulary.
Despite himself and his company, Kurapika smiles, though it’s a little bitter.
He strokes Chrollo’s cheek with the pad of his thumb. "I can't do that for you. I'm sorry."
Kurapika leaves, unsure if he’ll regret walking away after all.