Chapter Text
He climbs the stairs not because he has to, but because he wants to delay the inevitable, maybe give himself the option to back away again. Today is his third time climbing these stairs.
Kurapika has collected the last of his fallen clan’s Scarlet Eyes, gave them their proper burial, and he has finally defeated the monsters responsible for the genocide. Now, with all that done, he can answer Leorio’s call of waiting at last.
How long has it been, exactly? Five years? Maybe Six? He hasn’t been keeping track because counting the days will only make him miss him more.
The last night they were together ended badly, but not as how Kurapika had planned. He remembers it as clear as day.
It had been a cold, winter night, a snowstorm forecasted to be hitting the city in a few hours. Kurapika laid, spooned in Leorio’s arms, panting heavily as he rode down the high of his orgasm. Leorio pulled out of him and rolled onto his back. He sighed deeply as he fumbled for his box of cigarettes on the bedside table. The lighter briefly illuminated Leorio’s face in a warm glow as he lit a cigarette. He offered it to Kurapika, who declined. Leorio shrugged and inhaled deeply.
“How many more times are we going to keep meeting up like this, Kurapika?” Leorio asked after a long exhale. The smoke wafted towards the ceiling. He flicked ash onto a tray by the bedside.
Kurapika stayed silent, thoughts swarmed in his head.
“Will you stay for a while?”
Kurapika sat up suddenly. He knew this was a mistake. He never should have come to Leorio. He had made a bad habit of seeking out the man whenever he had a particularly rough day at work. That day, he had arrived at Leorio’s door bloodied and bruised after a fight with a rather tough opponent during a mission to retrieve a pair of Scarlet Eyes. Leorio took him in without any questions, patched and cleaned him up. Most of the blood wasn’t his. If Leorio was relieved by that, he didn’t say. One thing led to another, and they ended up in Leorio’s bed together again, tangled in each other’s arms, turning whatever pent-up frustrations and unspoken discussions into more… carnal activities.
It was a frequent event, meeting like that just for sex. Kurapika craved it. It was the only time he allowed himself to lose control a little in his otherwise rigid routine. There was only one person and one person alone he trusted to have full rein over him during intimate moments, and that person was Leorio.
Leorio had shown nothing except love to him, he sang praises to him, worshiped him and his body, and doused him with all the affection he could ever want during their late-night entanglements. Kurapika would let him, entirely aware of how much he enjoyed Leorio’s full attention on him. He loved feeling Leorio’s gentle caresses all over his skin, fluttering kisses at the sweet spots behind his ear and neck. Leorio always made sure to take care of Kurapika’s needs before his own, he was always a giver and not a taker. During those intimate moments, Kurapika shamefully took delight in that feeling of being loved and wanted. He relished in it, greedily, selfishly.
Leorio was his supply of pleasure in his otherwise painful existence. It eased his guilt and shame for the sinful acts he committed whilst working for the Mafia. It was addictive—that pleasure that temporary melted away all the complicated feelings in his heart, his hatred, his rage, his remorse. And that pleasure quickly became a bad habit.
You have to nip bad habits in the bud before it gets bigger.
“We can’t be seeing each other like this anymore, Leorio,” Kurapika turned to look at the older man.
A hopeful expression flashed briefly over Leorio’s features, he raised his eyebrows, and his lips twitched upwards into a quirky smile. “You finally realised that? Does that mean you want to… be with me?”
Kurapika frowned at those words.
Leorio always got like that after their many entanglements, a sappy, hopelessly romantic mess, which only made Kurapika’s decision even harder.
Leorio stubbed his half-smoked cigarette on the ashtray and scooted closer to Kurapika, taking his hand in his. His brown eyes reflected the neon city lights outside Leorio’s crummy apartment. At that very moment, Kurapika thought he was beautiful—sweat glistening on his tan skin which highlighted the muscles on his broad chest. Those warm brown eyes, tall nose, perfect lips, dark hair—they all made Kurapika’s heart pound, sending jolts of electric desire through his veins. As Leorio leaned in for a kiss, Kurapika forced himself to turn away quickly, shaking his head. He never let Leorio kiss him after sex. During, sure—he’d let himself lose control and give in to Leorio’s affection, but never after.
“I mean, I can’t see you anymore, Leorio.”
And there it was, the knife in the chest.
“What, why?” Leorio sounded hurt as he let go of Kurapika’s hand.
“You know why, Leorio.”
Kurapika’s missions had started getting more and more dangerous. He had planned to hunt down the remainder of the original Phantom Troupe in Meteor City. He had everything mapped out—he will take them down one at the time, slowly working his way up towards the Head, towards Chrollo. Despite all the meticulous calculations and planning he had been doing, he still wasn’t sure if he would come out of the whole ordeal alive.
Which was why he needed to end this.
“You know, Kurapika, if you just asked for help, I would—”
“I don’t need your help,” Kurapika groaned, cutting him off.
The last time he asked for help, Gon and Killua had gotten themselves captured. He needed to do this alone, at least then Chrollo cannot exploit his weakness.
“I don’t need your help, I don’t need you.” Good, drag this out, it was better to make this hurt as much as possible so Leorio would never ever seek him out again. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration at how hard this was. To constantly reject Leorio’s advances, to push him away.
“Kura…” Leorio grabbed his wrist. The touch set his skin on fire.
He wanted to stay, so damn badly. He wanted Leorio to hold him in the safety of his arms and never let go. He wanted to listen to his heartbeat, that steady tempo that will keep him from slipping into his self-destructive spiral. He wanted Leorio to take care of him, shelter him, and love him with all his heart.
But he cannot, he had work to do.
He will not rest until his goals are completed, and he cannot let Leorio get involved. Not then, especially not then when his missions will be so heavily centred on the Troupe.
Kurapika freed himself from Leorio’s grip and peeled the covers off himself. The cold air of the room felt like a sharp slap to his skin. He shivered and got off the bed, aware of Leorio’s gaze piercing him through his back. He focused his attention on finding his clothes that were hastily tossed around the floor.
“We’re done, Leorio. We can never—”
“I love you.”
Kurapika flinched, but said nothing. He knew he should hurt Leorio further—say that he does not love him back, that he never did and never will, so that the fantasy of them possibly being a real couple would finally die within Leorio’s mind. He needed Leorio to get it in his head that the idea of them was impossible, at least right then.
But he couldn’t bring himself to say those words. He loved Leorio, truly—they both knew it. He just hadn’t said those words out loud either.
He put on his boxers, his back to Leorio. If he were to look at him, he would probably falter and give in to his feelings.
“And I’ll wait for you.”
“No, Leorio,” Kurapika sighed. He picked up his pace in putting on his trousers.
Leorio continues. “I’ll wait for you until you finish your mission, or the world ends, whichever first.”
Kurapika’s breath hitched in his throat, and he could feel tears prickling in his eyes.
“For as long as the sun continues to rise and fall over the horizon, and the sky remains blue, I’ll wait for you, Sunshine.”
Kurapika clenched his jaw at the sound of that nickname as he buttoned up his shirt, painfully aware of how his fingers trembled as they struggled with their task. His heart was pounding inside his eardrums, and his stomach churned with anxiety. He longed to give in, to return Leorio’s feelings, but he thought about his clan, his guilt as the last survivor ate at him until he was nothing left but an empty shell with a void in its core. He needed to avenge them before he can truly live his life, that life being with Leorio.
And so, he had failed at breaking Leorio’s heart. If anything, Leorio sounded even more in love with him than ever that night.
“I have to go,” Kurapika mumbled and grabbed his jacket, leaving his shirt half buttoned. He slipped out of the bedroom, leaving Leorio behind.
He had kept to his word. He had not sought out Leorio in more than half a decade. He blocked him on his phone, completely cut him off, and acted as if he had dropped off the face of the planet.
And now, as he climbs the stairs to Leorio’s apartment, he wonders if Leorio would keep his word too.
Of course he will.
Leorio, the hopeless romantic, whose heart is always too big for him. Kurapika will beg for his forgiveness for leaving him all those years ago and finally declare his feelings out loud to him. Leorio will have no choice but to take him back. He knew what he is doing is fucked up, that his sudden re-appearance will probably hit Leorio like a meteor strike to the gut. But he promised. He promised he’d wait.
It wasn’t difficult finding out Leorio’s new address. All he had to do was look up Doctor Paladiknight on the Hunter Website. Yes, Leorio is a doctor now, he had finally completed medical school and achieved his dream of becoming a doctor. It’s only fitting that Kurapika has completed his goals too. And now that that’s out of the way, they can finally return to each other, as proper lovers this time.
He’s on the twentieth floor, another twenty to go.
As he climbs the stairs, he feels his old scars and wounds aching, as well as the recovering fracture in his ribs. His body is still healing from the final fight with Chrollo a few weeks ago. Throughout the years of collecting the eyes and hunting down the Troupe, he had broken a few bones here and there, sustained so many wounds on his skin, even almost losing a few limbs.
He had made it a point to use Holy Chain sparingly, only using it during battle when he deemed it absolutely necessary, and leaving less fatal wounds to heal on its own. He deserved the pain. After what his clan had went through, he figured that if they suffered, he should suffer too. Why should he have to live comfortably through this path of revenge?
Another reason, a more selfish one, was that he wanted to limit the unnecessary use of Emperor Time for the sake of Leorio. As time went on and as he grew more successful in hunting down the remaining Troupe members, he had realised that maybe he still had a life yet to live. He did the math—he had taken off fifty years of his life, but then again nen users tend to live for longer, so he’s left with a good thirty to forty years left. That should be enough for Leorio, right? He hopes so.
Leorio’s words had burned in his mind every time he considered giving up his lifespan to use Holy Chain or Emperor Time.
‘I’ll wait for you until you finish your mission, or the world ends, whichever first. As long as the sun continues to rise and fall over the horizon, and the sky remains blue, I’ll wait for you.’
He is on the thirtieth floor now.
He wonders how Leorio looks like now, probably still the same as ever. The pictures he found online of Doctor Paladiknight looked so handsome, him smiling in his labcoat and scrubs with his arms crossed over his chest and a stethoscope around his neck. He had the same haircut, same narrow nose, same broad shoulders. An assuring smile plastered on his face. He looked like someone you could trust with your life.
Kurapika, on the other hand, looks the worse for wear. A little skinnier now due to frequent meal skipping, skin littered with scar tissue, hair that has grown a little too long and dark bags under his eyes. Hopefully Leorio wouldn’t be too turned off by the sight of him. He adjusts his tie around his collar and combs his fingers through his tangled hair, only just realising that he had forgotten to brush it before he left his hotel room. His mind is still a little frazzled from the lack of sleep and the anxiety of meeting Leorio again.
Thirty-fifth floor.
No, Leorio will accept him with open arms. He promised. Kurapika picks up the pace and smiles to himself, ignoring the burn of muscles in his legs after climbing so many flights of stairs. He cannot back away now, he will finally see the man that he had fallen for again.
He thinks about the happy years as he climbs, a reminder of the first phase of the Hunter Exam. Leorio, running shirtless up those endless flight of stairs by his side, rambling on about his true dream of becoming a doctor. It was at that moment when Leorio really caught his attention. His true dream, a noble one, hidden behind a façade of greed and materialism had left a lasting impression on Kurapika. Those years spent with Leorio was the best, before their relationship had reduced to nothing except those late-night rendezvous. Those times were times of innocence, flirting, mostly on Leorio’s part, but Kurapika sometimes reciprocated. Kurapika ponders if that innocence can be reclaimed now. Maybe it is something that they can work on, now that they will be reconnecting.
Thirty-eighth floor.
Kurapika promises himself to give this relationship his all. He will put in the effort, make it work, to make up for all the years he missed. He is ready to give and not receive, he no longer needs to take, and take, and take. He will focus solely on Leorio, now that his life’s mission is done. There are so many things he wants to talk to Leorio about, so many things that he is ready to open up about. He will be vulnerable, put aside his pride and ego and open his heart up to Leorio completely. It’s what Leorio deserves, after all these years. He owes it to him.
Fortieth floor.
In this luxury skyscraper in the heart of Yorknew City, overlooking the river that snakes through the metropolis, there are only four apartments per floor. Leorio’s is apartment number four zero four.
404.
Kurapika chuckles nervously as he stares at the number on the door of Leorio’s apartment. That had been his badge number during the Hunter’s Exam, hadn’t it?
He can hear voices behind the door, as well as soft music. Is Leorio throwing a party? He recalls reading an article recently about Leorio successfully leading a team to find the cure of a rare disease. This must be a celebration for that, then, he deduces.
He feels uncertain. Should he leave? He doesn’t want to intrude. No. He has been giving himself excuses for the last two days, when he turned back without even reaching Leorio’s front door. This is it; he should just bite the bullet and not be a coward.
He rings the bell.
The door opens after a few moments. It is a woman, around her late twenties, blonde, just like him, a little shorter, slim. He cannot help but notice her uncanny resemblance with himself. He is a little surprised but quickly tries to compose himself.
“Uh…” Kurapika stammers. “I’m looking for Leorio.”
“Oh! You must be here for the party! Come in!” she invites him in. “Leo! Another guest is here!” she offers to take Kurapika’s jacket, but he declines. If she is offended by his coldness she doesn’t show it. Instead, she smiles at him warmly and beckons him to enter. “Leo’s just in the kitchen, he won’t be long.”
Kurapika steps into the foyer. It opens to a living room with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the Yorknew skyline. It is a large open space, with lavish furniture and a crystal chandelier. Leorio has clearly done well for himself. Around twenty people fill the space, and they are all occupied with lively chatter, drinks in hands. He looks to his left and can just make out a dining room and kitchen through another hallway.
Kurapika stands awkwardly at the entrance, unsure of what to do. He curses at himself for not thinking of bringing a gift. The woman starts walking towards the kitchen and he trails behind her.
“Leo!” she calls out once more.
“I’m coming, Honey! Just let me get this roast out of the oven first.”
Kurapika stops dead in his tracks.
Oh.
Oh.
He has only just noticed the ring on the woman’s finger.
But of course.
How childish could he be, expecting Leorio to wait for him after all those years? Leorio would have moved on by now, found someone new. It only makes sense. He cannot blame him, considering how he had essentially faked his own death after all those years of radio silence.
Kurapika flushes red with embarrassment and turns to leave.
“Kurapika?” the voice sounds like a punch to his gut, and all his treasured memories of Leorio comes flooding back into him like a tidal wave.
He bites the inside of his cheek, hard, as he turns around slowly. He cannot bring himself to look Leorio in the eye. Instead, he stares at the pink apron tied around the taller man’s waist. It has the words ‘Kiss the Chef’ printed on it in a cheesy font. He is even sporting a pair of matching pink oven mitts. Kurapika feels sick, it feels like he has just walked into a set of a romantic comedy as an unwelcomed guest.
“It’s been so long,” Leorio’s voice is strained. “W-why are you here? How have you been?”
“I’m good, Leorio,” he forces himself to say. He is aware of the woman’s presence next to him.
“Will you give us a moment?” Leorio says quietly while removing his mittens and apron. Kurapika eyes the muscles on Leorio’s exposed forearms, below his rolled-up sleeves, and pushes back inappropriate thoughts.
“Of course, let me serve the guests,” she takes the items from Leorio and disappears into the kitchen, her high heels clacking along the tiles.
“I… I should go,” Kurapika gulps, turning around again to head for the exit.
Leorio grabs his jacket sleeve, pulling him back. “Wait!” He ushers Kurapika towards the opposite direction and practically shoves him into another room. It is a study. Leorio shuts the door behind him and leans against it.
Kurapika feels his face getting hot.
Leorio folds his arms across his broad chest and stares past him, at the view outside the window. The sun is setting across the horizon, the sky an explosion of pink and orange hues. The top two buttons of Leorio’s shirt were left unbuttoned, and Kurapika admires the exposed and taut skin stretching over Leorio’s chest muscles in the light of the sunset.
“You… You’re not hurt, are you?” Leorio asks, walking across the room towards him.
Kurapika backs away awkwardly, bumping into the desk behind him.
“What?”
“You used to only show up whenever you’re hurt—”
“I’m fine.”
Leorio’s casts his narrowed eyes over Kurapika to check for any visible signs of injury. Feeling self-conscious of being scrutinised, Kurapika wraps his arms around himself.
“I’m fine, really.”
Leorio sighs and takes his glasses off, putting them on the desk behind Kurapika. As Leorio reaches past him, Kurapika smells the faint waft of his cologne. He clenches his jaw and urges his racing heart to quiet down. The scent unlocks hidden memories, memories of him and Leorio in bed, memories that he’s been trying to keep hidden behind lock and key in the depths of his mind. The memories cause prickles on his skin, and his breath to catch in his throat.
Leorio pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs again.
“What… what brings you here, then?” His voice is gentle, like the cadence of a children’s doctor, as if he doesn’t want to scare Kurapika off.
“I just… I was in the area and thought I’d catch up, that’s all,” Kurapika mutters. “But I can see that you’re occupied, so maybe another time,” he gestures at the door, where he can hear sounds of the party outside leaking through the gaps.
“It’s fine, Kurapika, please stay” Leorio quickly says. “This party is for my research team, we—Ahh, that doesn’t matter. Gon and Killua are playing video games in their rooms if you want to see them? Oh and Alluka’s with them too, I’m not sure if you’ve met her, she’s Killua’s little sister.”
Kurapika wasn’t aware that they were living with Leorio now. That woman, and the boys... are they just one big happy family now? Of course they are. They had every right to be. Who is he to judge when he was the one who left Leorio behind in the first place? Leorio deserves happiness, he deserves comfort, security, a family.
“It’s okay. I don’t want them to see me like this,” he gestures vaguely to his tired face and dishevelled hair.
“What are you talking about? They would love to see you,” Leorio frowns. “Killua thinks you’re dead, you know? And Gon, he… he keeps insisting that you’re alive, out there somewhere. At least let the kiddos know you’re safe.”
If Leorio’s plan is to make him feel guilty for cutting contact, it’s working. Still, he shouldn’t get the boys’ hopes up when he shouldn’t even be here in the first place.
A loud cheer erupts from outside the door, followed by the clinking of glasses and laughter.
“I… I should really get going,” Kurapika pushes himself off the desk and heads towards the door. “Forget I even came.”
“Are you still after the eyes?” Leorio asks.
Kurapika hesitates.
“Yes… I am,” he finds himself lying, avoiding Leorio’s stare. Maybe he can disappear again, this time for good. That way he wouldn’t have to intrude on Leorio’s clearly established life. It will be like nothing has happened. Leorio and the boys, they can just keep living life in this wonderful apartment, as a perfect family. There is no place for him here.
“I see.”
Kurapika frowns and opens the door, the sounds from the party are even louder now.
“We miss you, you know,” Leorio says. “Call me, okay? Or at least call Gon.”
“I will. Goodbye, Leorio. Take care.”
Once again, he leaves Leorio behind. He takes the elevator down this time.
Outside, the sun has fully set, and a pale crescent moon hangs in the dark blue sky. The lights from the skyscrapers illuminate the skyline, washing out the brightness of the stars. Maybe it is written in the stars that he was never supposed to return to Leorio, maybe they were never meant to be, and maybe the sun will never rise again, because Leorio had stopped waiting for him.
Kurapika cradles his shattered heart back to his hotel.
In the darkness of his hotel room, he strips down to his boxers and stares at the disgusting sight in the mirror. He inspects his skin, which stretches tightly over his skeletal frame, pallor highlighting the contours of the ribcage beneath. Scar tissue ranging from faint white lines to red angry ones crisscrossed all over, tarnishing the shell that is his body. His collarbones jut out in sharp, harsh lines, and pale blue veins spread like webs under the thin skin of his neck.
A particularly large and ugly scar stretches from the middle of his chest to his side, ending just above his prominent hipbone. He had gotten this one fighting Nobunaga, a difficult advisory. The scar is a dark pink, the skin raised and irritated, despite obtaining it almost a year ago. He turns around and looks over his shoulder at his back. The spine, a delicate column of ridges, is starkly visible under the pale skin of his back. An ugly burn scar, pink and raw, webs across both shoulder blades like lighting bolts. This one was from Feitan, two years ago. And last but not least, dark red lesions encircle his biceps, from Chrollo who had almost completely mauled his arms off. He had to use Holy Chain to reattach his arms quickly during the heat of the battle, and the reattachment was amateur, at best. The scars still ache today.
He had taken away something after each fight with a Troupe member, wounds and broken bones mostly left alone so his body could heal itself. It was how he coped with the guilt of killing. The pain reassured him, proving to him that he is still human. And yet, the thing he sees in the mirror looks the furthest from being human.
This body, disfigured and repulsive in the reflection—he was a fool to even think that Leorio could love something like that. He was never one to care about vanity, but Leorio had always told him that he looked like an angel, sent down from the heavens above. Leorio worshiped him, sang all sorts of praises to him during their entanglements—that he loved his silky hair, golden like a halo, his eyes, blue like a clear lake reflecting a starry night’s sky, his pale skin, soft like freshly fallen snow. Leorio had loved the person he was back then, before he started carrying these scars on his back like a heavy weight, a representation of all the sins he had committed. It was ridiculous to even consider the possibility of Leorio loving this new, grotesque version of him today.
A pair of scarlet eyes stares right back at him in the reflection of the mirror. They are no longer the fiery red of rage, but a deeper crimson instead, holding so much sorrow within them. His eyes stung, tears on the verge of spilling. He draws in a shaky breath and embraces the burn behind his eyelids.
Good, let Emperor Time eat up all his remaining time left in this world. It is not like he has anything else to live for. He has done what he was put here to do. There is nothing left for him.
His knees give out and he collapses onto the ground. Slumped over, he mumbles a prayer for forgiveness. He will use his Scarlet Eyes this one and last time, for the most selfish of reasons. He hopes his ancestors can forgive him.
It’s not like they will be seeing him in heaven, anyway.
He doesn’t know how long it will take, for the candle that is his life to burn out completely. He kneels there, on the ground before the mirror, his vision blurry as he stares at his disgusting reflection, at his flesh that now looks like it’s melting into something unrecognisable, something unlovable.
It scares him.
He feels a surge of panic rising in his throat, a feeling which he has grown far too familiar with over the past few years. His heart is racing, there is a ringing in his ears, the ground spins beneath him. He hunches over and throws up bile, the acid stinging his throat real good. Curling into the fetal position, he hugs his arms, his nails digging into the wounds caused by Chrollo. He feels every single cut, every single broken bone, every single burn, all of it, like they all just had been reopened, rebroken, remade. He feels them all so deeply. It is all he can ever feel, it is all he would rather feel. The pain is far better than the intense loneliness of heartbreak.
Tears flowing freely from his eyes, everything he sees is red. There is not enough oxygen in his lungs. He hyperventilates, devastated at the thought of being truly alone in this world. Everything he has ever had, he had lost. It is inevitable, this end. This suffering that he has prolonged, to achieve what, exactly? Honour? Revenge? Justice? Is he satisfied now that he has achieved what he had set out to do?
Of course not. He is neither satisfied nor happy.
How terribly selfish of him.
He had thought that if he would just avenge his fallen clan, retrieve their eyes and hunt down the Troupe, he could finally rest, he could finally get his happy ending, with Leorio, of all people. He endured those years of pain, alone, rejecting everyone’s help, rejecting Leorio’s help. He didn’t want to ruin him, he didn’t want Leorio involved in his suffering. But in pushing him away, he destroyed any and all chances of getting his happy ending.
He doesn’t deserve it, especially after all the sins he had committed.
He curls up into an even smaller ball on the ground and hugs himself tightly, pretending that the hands around his arms are Leorio’s. He ignores the wetness in his palms from the wounds he had re-opened. He cries silently, his face contorts into a tortured expression, lips twisting in agony, brows furrowing in torment, and eyes burning with the intensity of an eternal flame. The pain in his heart is too much to bear. It is cracking, it is sizzling, it is overflowing,
He welcomes the pain entirely.