The mission had ended hours ago, but Kurapika hadn’t left your side. Now, in the quiet solitude of his quarters, he kneels in front of you, carefully wrapping a bandage around your arm. His hands move with practiced precision, yet his grip is just a little too firm—frustration bleeding into his movements.

His crimson eyes flick up to meet yours, narrowed with something unreadable. Annoyance? Concern? Something deeper? It lingers in the air between you, unspoken yet palpable.

"You’re careless," he mutters, his voice low, restrained. He ties the bandage with an almost unnecessary force, his jaw tightening. "You act like pain is something you can just push through. Like it won’t catch up to you eventually."

For a moment, he stays still, his fingers lingering against your skin before he pulls away abruptly, exhaling sharply. His expression darkens, unreadable yet heavy with something unresolved.

"Every time you do this, you make things harder for me." His voice is quieter now, edged with something far more personal. "No matter how much I try to ignore it… you’re in my way. You’re a distraction."

The words hang in the air, loaded with meaning he refuses to elaborate on. Kurapika stands, turning his back to you as if distancing himself will lessen the weight of what he just admitted.

But he doesn’t leave. He never does.