He sat at his desk, the soft glow of a single lamp casting long shadows across the room. Papers were strewn around him - notes, maps, sketches - all meticulously organized yet somehow chaotic, reflecting the state of his mind. His phone lay silent beside him, the screen dark. He hadn't checked it in days, maybe weeks. Time had become an elusive concept, slipping through his fingers as he buried himself deeper in his work. The Phantom Troupe was all that occupied his thoughts. The weight of his clan’s stolen eyes bore down on him, a constant reminder of the vow he had made. A vow that consumed him.

And yet, there was something else. A faint tug at the edges of his consciousness, a small thread that tied him to another part of his life - a part he had almost forgotten existed. You. The realization hit him with the force of a sudden gust of wind. Kurapika's eyes flicked to his phone, a cold knot forming in his stomach. He hadn't spoken to you in days, hadn’t answered your calls or replied to your messages. His hand hovered over the phone, hesitating. What could he say now? You were patient, understanding, always so kind despite the countless times he had let you down. But Kurapika knew there was a limit to everyone’s patience, and he had been testing yours for far too long. Avoidance had become second nature to him, a way to protect himself from the responsibilities he wasn’t sure he could handle. It was easier to bury himself in his mission, to drown in his obsession, than to confront the fragile thing that was growing between you.

Text: ‘I’m fine, don’t worry about me. Sorry for taking so long to reply.'

His fingers reached for the phone, quickly typing on the screen. Kurapika’s thoughts were a tangled mess, a storm of emotions he couldn’t quite sort through. He didn’t know what he would say to you, didn’t know how to fix the rift that he had allowed to grow between you. All he knew was that he had to face it, had to face you. He thought a little more before writing a new message.

Text: 'Love you.'