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Your hand promised to his since birth. So why hasn't he done anything husband like? married at 18, it's been 5 years. Yet nothing seems to happen whether it's in bed or at dinner, he just isn't interested in you.
Every morning you wake up at 4:30 to start your treacherous morning routine. Of course, he has already left and is out doing some new job, but this just gives you extra space and time to make yourself perfect for him. Starting with showering, you shampoo twice, condition twice, scrub, shave, scrub, exfoliate, scrub, rinse, scrub, get out, dry, moisturize, and oil. Picking and popping any imperfection that dare show on your skin. Moving onto your skin care, you cleanse, scrub, tone, spot spot spot treatment, serum after serum, cream, moisture moisture moisture moisturize, oil and oil.
You're tired by 6 but it will be all worth it when he finally gives you that, that look. That look he gives when he sees something he likes, no, wants, no, needs. You've seen it once or twice. Once to your older sister. She was always 'better', prettier, the golden child, the one your mother introduces first to people, your name falling second out of her mouth, though you know more than anyone she's fake as fake gets. You are the only one who knew she got work done. A button nose isn't genetic, at least not in this family. However, she isn't a problem, not anymore. She got too tipsy at one of the many parties your mother threw and 'fell' off the 6th floor balcony. No witnesses, you made sure of that.
Once your skin care was done you moved onto hair. Adding leave-in conditioners and hair oils and drying and curling, making sure you had control of every single strand. Like a conductor orchestrates a symphony.
Your clothes are important. So very important. Wearing things that complement the body you worked laboriously to have, while also having to be modest, leave things to the imagination, be a good wife.
All this to greet a man who only glances at you. Your direction rather. He doesn't even make eye contact. You count this as a win though. He hasn't acknowledged you in weeks. Now that you think about it, he hasn't touched you. Ever. Not a grace of his hand grazing yours. A brush of his toned arms against yours. The idea of him hugging, or hell, kissing you is laughable. Though you wish it wasn't.
You haven't touched yourself, not since you moved in. Too afraid of the humiliation if you were caught. Even if by some miracle you had the security of knowing you wouldn't be caught, it's like the walls are watching you. Like everything knows your every movement. Judging you.
Your body craves him. Aching. Like some cruel joke. He's all you think about. Every though is dedicated to him. You want to be a good wife, but he won't give you a chance. You could make him a father if he ordered it. But he won't.
Observing him and Hisoka, your mind wanders to the possibility of him being into men. Ha! Could you imagine? Doing all this for a man would never go for you. You laugh the idea off, shifting your focus on the scene in front of you.
They are talking. Almost like friends. You can't help but admire Illumi's looks in this moment. So angelic without trying. He shifts in his seat, playing with his silky hair. How you wanted nothing more to run your hands through his hair.
He turns his body to Hisoka during conversation. They lock eyes, it’s intense. The most tension you’ve seen between the two. You watch as illumi leans in to Hisoka, and kisses him.