The thought that the Phantom Troupe had laid even a finger on you kept Kurapika awake at night. The idea that you’d come face to face with the monsters who had already taken so much from him terrified him to his core.

You could have been another casualty, caught in the crossfire of his vengeful endeavor. He’d warned you countless times of the consequences in deciding to stay by his side, and still you did— despite the dark path ahead.

It should’ve been an easy decision.

But oh how you loved him.

And how he adored you.

The thought of ever being apart haunted him, so when you insisted on sticking around, he found himself unable to resist.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

He knelt beside the tub, gently peeling away the bandages off your back. His fingers drifted over the slowly healing wound, assessing how much pain you were in. When he didn’t hear you wince, he let out a quiet sigh of relief.

“It’s scarring over. Don’t worry.” He murmured, softly kissing the nape your neck.

You were covered in wounds, some nearly completely healed— leaving fresh pink scars in their wake. He was angry beyond belief, and had been ever since the attack. Mostly with himself, as now you’d have to carry around these constant reminders of his failure to protect you the way he swore to himself he would.