nine snapshots of Kurapika and Leorio post York Shin City. Leorio watches as Kurapika spirals downwards and wonders, 'how do you help someone who doesn't want to be helped?' pre-slash.
written for amanda. many thanks to star for her beta work.
01. self-controlWorking for the Nostrade family is a continuous test of his self-control. Kurapika stands, back rigid, fists clenched, and thinks (prays) self control, digging his nails into his palms, forming white crescents in his skin, because he needs this, needs to be within this circle of people, in order to find what he must. Kurapika reins it in, emotions, coils them tight around his heart, like his own Nen blade, and focuses the anger so it's cold, the energy turned towards rationality and productivity.
Petulant Neon is a Neon that sometimes screams and rages (what does she know of rage), fury in her eyes as her father tries to placate her over the phone. Later, she'll fling her pretty possessions to the ground, fragile nothings shattering as all the little adornments used to replace an absent father and a dead mother are rendered meaningless (yet again).
He can't help but pity her (absent father, dead mother, nobody loves her, superficial existence), but simmering beneath the pity, eating away at the buffer of pity is his anger, at her, at every single damn one of them, they who paid and brought pieces of his family, as if their parts were worth no more that of an animal's, worth nothing but the skull of a bull, exotic and pretty.
He watches her cheer at the beauty of the Scarlet Eyes, watches as her father applies saccharine sweet words in order to appease her, and feels nothing. Feels empty and hollow inside because for the price of two point nine billion Jenny, he has retrieved a pair of his Clan's eyes. One down, thirty five more to go. Thirty five more of his Clan, to be laid to rest. Thirty five more sets of eyes, to murder and lie and steal and pay cold hard cash, blood soaked cash for. Is this all that a human life is worth? How much money the sum of their parts can bring? Surely there is more. Surely his Clan would have left a better legacy for the world.
(Don't delude yourself. You are no more important than any other being in this universe. But it matters, he thinks, and that's his problem. Of sentimentality. Family matters. Clan matters. And this is what will lead him down. This is what will make him cruel. But perhaps he would be a monster, inhuman, if sentimentality didn't matter. And see, that's the problem. )
Light Nostrade says "What should I do?" and the insincere platitudes slip easily out of his mouth, no smiles on his face, only calmness and Light Nostrade is too close, Light Nostrade must be kept at arm's length, lest they merge and Kurapika becomes Light Nostrade, barterer of lives, destroying what is not his to play with with a careless hand. Kurapika won't become one of them, he won't. He can hear Light Nostrade's breath and it makes him queasy, it makes him sick. Kurapika must step away. Can't. Stands rock still, and there's barely inches of space between a pathetic wreck of a man (reliant on a lonely daughter) and a boy on the road of vengeance (on the road of self-ruin). Still. Kurapika has no pity for him, not when Light Nostrade says "You have no idea" because it is Light Nostrade that has no idea, not of loss, not of burning anger, and not when he commands (begs) "Restore Neon at once." (What a useless father, absent father.)
Kurapika grinds his teeth, says nothing and feels the anger Spiders are out there, and the urge for vengeance itches beneath his skin (even though- he's taken family away. and they will suffer how he suffered, how he suffers). He doesn't belong here, not in this dank room where the taste of desperation lies heavy, useless balls of crumpled paper containing reports on what they know is true (ruin ruin ruin), nor in this body adorned with blonde hair and blue cloth and eyes the most beautiful shade of red the world knows, brimming with Nen and vengeance and old hurt that'll never quite leave, will always spurt pus, putrid with thoughts of the dead. Chained by his past.
He needs out.
He can't, not yet.
02. help"Kurapika..."
He can imagine the frown on Leorio's face, eyebrows delicately creased on a forehead free of blemishes, and the soft pale skin of Leorio's lips, curled into a pout. Kurapika notices the small details. It's a useful skill, because all humans telegraph their movements through body language. And Leorio, oh does he notice Leorio.
"Do I want to know what you've gotten yourself into?" and Kurapika lets out a tiny puff of breath, amused (self-deprecating), because the answer is always no.
"You know who I work for," he says instead, and his voice is carefully level. He doesn't need to add: You know what my goal is. There's a sigh, muffled by static, but it's more resigned than irritated. Because he is Leorio .
"Alright." There's a stopgap moment of hesitation on the other side, before Leorio launches into all the information he knows. It's good. Leorio must have looked into it, from the last time they'd talked.
"How did you find this?" he asks, slightly curious.
Leorio snorts. "I'm good at talking people," he says, and Kurapika can imagine the shrug, an exaggerated movement of the shoulder blades because Leorio is always more, Leorio is every child with something to prove, Leorio is bright and shining and over-the-top and carelessly thoughtful in only the way he can manage. "Street rats will talk, if you speak our language." Kurapika doesn't miss the 'our'.
"Leorio-"
"Kurapika," Leorio returns, with all the firmness that Kurapika doesn't have. "We want to help. I want to help. It's okay," he says. "Zepile-san hooked me up with his contacts at the bar."
"Irresponsible," Kurapika mutters, slightly disproving, but there's a smile on his face.
Leorio laughs. "Yeah well... Keep in touch yeah? It's impossible to find you, with how often you switch numbers."
"Maybe. Thank you. I'll see you."
"Kurap-" He's interrupted from something in the background, and Kurapika can tell his next words are yelled, but his mouth is facing away from the receiver. "Yeah, I'm coming, hold on." There's a puff of breath. "Sorry, I have to leave for class." Leorio sounds frustrated. "It's a promise then, I'll see you."
Before Kurapika can protest, Leorio hangs up on him.
Kurapika slowly places the phone back down. This is his vengeance, his own bitter path to walk. True: He could not have done what he did in York Shin without Gon, Killua, Leorio, Senritsu. But: This is his own mission. This is Clan matters. Friends are a liability. Caring is a liability. It's better this way.
Kurapika has (hasn't) always been a lone operator. He prefers it. Allies (friends) will only hinder him here. This is not a choice (a lie). Morals cannot get in the way. This is his inescapable duty, as the last of his Clan. He is thankful, truly, for the help that his unlikely friend have bequeathed him, but this is his path to take. He grits his teeth, and gathers the notes.
Kurapika has work to do.
03. hotelAngry Leorio is a Leorio that roars bright like flame, and everything in the world turns dull except for the single point of light in front of him that's yelling at him and Kurapika lets this go on for minutes, seconds, mere moments - he doesn't know because time is peripheral, time is suspect and untrustworthy. He thinks vaguely that Leorio is getting better at tracking him down, but also that he's been slacker because maybe he wants to be found, even though friendship is a weakness...
And eventually Leorio realises that Kurapika is tense, and lets go of him, stops talking and scratches his head, sheepish.
"Uh... Sorry," he says, and he sounds like he doesn't know why he gave Kurapika the hug, why he wrapped his arms around Kurapika, and isn't that funny, isn't it? Laugh, why don't you laugh?
Kurapika looks up and Leorio is staring at him, biting his lip. His eyebrows are furrowed, and Kurapika thinks: Oh, you're worried.
"You stupid fool!" Leorio yells at him and Kurapika stares at him unblinkingly, somewhat startled by the sudden burst of passion. "Of course I'm worried. A month-" and Kurapika tunes it out, because oh, he'd spoken aloud, and now there are two large hands gently shaking him, and he should do something, should push them away, could be threat, could be danger, could be a Spider with a knife to his neck-
-and now there is a palm against his forehead and it's cold, icy cold. He shivers, because it's soothing against the burning of his head but his body is cold all over, and perhaps Leorio would like to hug him again, give Kurapika some of his warmth. Kurapika thinks he'd like that. Leorio had taken care of him, hadn't he? The last time Kurapika had a fever. He's glad that Leorio seems willing to take care of him again.
"When was the last time you slept?" Leorio's voice is softer now, gentler, and he no longer burns so brightly, but he's still as intense, all that heat, concentrated into that one place. Kurapika's cold, the world is so cold and he doesn't think he remembers what warm is, so he reaches up, places a hand against Leorio's cheek.
Leorio stares at him as if he is something new and wonderful, and Kurapika opens his mouth to say: Stop that, because he is a murderer, he is a liar, he is a cheater, a thief. He's done terrible things, and he's stood with terrible people, and let them do as they will. He's not like Leorio, who has pure intentions at heart, even if he's without class, even if he's too brash and too open. Because better to be a good person than one with class.
"I'm putting you to bed," Leorio announces, a sharp dip on his face. Leorio is frowning. "Doc- Uh, doctor-in-training's orders."
Kurapika lets Leorio lead him to to the hotel bed. "Ten days," Kurapika says, because he's remembered, and suddenly they've stopped, and why is it that they've stopped. Was there an attack?
"How are you alive?"
Kurapika looks up at Leorio. " Nen ." At least, he thinks that's the right answer.
Grumbling about idiots who didn't know when to stop and take care of themselves - and Kurapika wants to protest at that, he does know, it's just he was on the verge of a large break through, and he could not have let this one slip past, so what's a bit of sleep lost in between - Leorio stops, and picks him up. Kurapika lets out a weak cry of protest, but as it seems to do nothing to move Leorio. He stops, and enjoys the momentary loss of control, the feeling of being weightless. Just for a moment. It won't hurt.
Once he's all tucked into bed (and it hurts to think about it, because his mother was the last person to do that, her smile, he can't even remember that now), it occurs to Kurapika that Leorio has nowhere to sleep. He says this out loud.
"I'll be fine," Leorio says. "I'll sleep on the couch."
"But it's your hotel room." Kurapika hadn't originally planned to stay for the night. It was just a short social visit, and then onto the next item of business, because Leorio had yelled at him over the phone again, and he'd yelled back, but a promise was a promise. But in the presence of something (someone) familiar, he lets down his guard, and the next thing he knows, every missed opportunity for sleep, every five minute nap and missed meal has caught up with him and his body protests, empathetically.
Kurapika thinks: We can share.
Leorio turns bright red. Evidently, he's spoken out aloud again. Kurapika ignores the nonsense he's sprouting and reaches up instead to feel Leorio's forehead. Hmm. Leorio's fine. No fever, not like him, but still quite red.
Leorio splutters, "A-alright," and Kurapika's surprised for about half a second before he nods, and closes his eyes, snuggling deeper into the pillow. Behind him, he can hear the rustling of Leorio taking off his clothes, and in the next moment, there's a heavy weight against his back, warm and comforting, making an indent in the mattress.
Leorio is extremely rigid next to him, hyper alert, as if propriety should get in the way of comfort and it can't be comfortable, not one bit. So Kurapika rolls over a bit and sprawls his head onto Leorio's chest, a Leorio-pillow for his head, and gradually, the rise of fall of Leorio's breathing feels much easier, much more relaxed. Kurapika drifts off into sleep, comforted by the warm body next to him.
04. morning afterSurprisingly enough, Kurapika wakes long after Leorio has left. It was likely the sleep deprivation. There's a note on the table, and it makes him think of awkward mornings after with one night stands (not that he's had the time or the interest, despite being propositioned many times). He turns his thoughts away from there, because he's not sure if he wants to restart the Kurta Clan, and all that would entail, children whose eyes the most beautiful red the world has seen, driven away from the world, taught to seek isolation, and the possibility of a repeat: Family made to watch as their loved ones were brutally tortured and killed. A repeat with the Phantom Troupe, isolation until death.
There's breakfast set up on a table, and Kurapika doesn't realise how famished he is until he sees eat. He probes it carefully with his Nen, but is satisfied that it contains no poison. It's surprisingly good, considering that Leorio seems to have made it himself. French Toast with eggs, and some sort of combination of spices. Considering the mess that Leorio makes when they camp, he has to wonder whether Leorio attempted to improve his culinary skills, or whether he had bought it from a shop.
It's already ten am. He's dawdled enough and it's time to leave. He's already behind schedule. Kurapika walks over to where he'd left his briefcase last night, and raises a brow at the key and note tied to his handle.
It's... A key. To Leorio's apartment. And an address.
I'm sorry I had to leave before you woke, but if you ever come near, you're welcome to stay in my apartment. Stay in touch.
There's no name on the note, but it's obvious who it's from. There's a smile on his face before he realises it.
He burns the note, but the key...
The key he hooks onto a necklace chain, and wears it around his neck. This way, it won't get lost.
05. houseKurapika knocks hesitantly on the door. He's absolutely exhausted, his Nen almost completely gone, and he just wants a safe place to rest. The person who opens the door is not Leorio, and he really needs a damn place to stay for the night so he asks: "Is this Leorio's apartment? He gave me a key, but he doesn't seem to be home."
The man blinks. "Ah, you must be Kurapika-san. Leorio talks about you and the two kids a lot. Come in man-" he stops mid-sentence when Kurapika stumbles into the apartment, revealing the full extent of his injuries.
"You alright? You need a hospital?"
"No thank you. I'll be fine. Leorio?"
"He's staying over with another friend tonight."
Kurapika nodded. "I'm sorry for the trouble," and he really is. He had hoped not to involve Leorio, but it's come to this.
"No problem. I'm Ajisen, but you can call me Aji. You need anything, just hit me up."
Kurapika nods. "I just need a place to rest for the night, that's relatively safe."
Ajisen shrugs. "I would offer you a futon, but our last one was destroyed in an accident and we haven't gotten around to replacing it. The couch is pretty comfortable though. I'll grab a spare blanket."
Kurapika mumbles his thanks, although right now, he's more interested in the couch, where he'll finally be able to collapse. Ajisen returns with a blanket, and a pillow, and Kurapika vaguely remembers mumbling a thank you, before settling in to sleep.
Leorio steps into his apartment. There's a body covered in blankets on the couch - one of his roommate's flings? But no, Aji hadn't mentioned that he'd be having any one over. It could have been a spur of the moment thing, but Aji is usually careful about these things. Either way... Leorio puts his briefcase down, and walks over the kitchen to make tea, making sure that he is quiet. He doesn't want to intrude on the privacy of someone who is likely Aji's guest, but even so, he's still curious.
Evidently, he's not quiet enough because his surprise guest stirs and sits up. Leorio almost drops the kettle in his hand, because he recognises the blond hair. He had given Kurapika the keys on a whim, but he had never expected (but hoped) that Kurapika would take him up on his offer.
The next thing he notices, with alarm, are the various injuries scattered along Kurapika's body.
"I'll go get the first aid kit," he says hurriedly, and puts the kettle back onto the kitchen bench, but is casually waved off.
"No need," Kurapika says, and holds out his hand.
Leorio feels a shift in the air, and the flare of sensation that he associates with a burst of Nen . His eyes are red, a shade that Leorio's only seen a few times before. Eyes wide, he watches as a cross drops down, and wraps itself around Kurapika's body. There's a whispered mutter and the cross glows a pale green, and before his eyes, most of Kurapika's wounds are quickly healed.
He'd heard the explanation, but hadn't had the opportunity to see it in action. And now that he has seen it, it's even more amazing than it is described, the near instantaneous healing of wounds through Nen.
"Bastard had a Nen draining ability," Kurapika mutters as he falls back down onto the couch, exhausted. It sparks a memory in Leorio's head, some time back, a phone call and a request for information a rouge Nen user. Before he can think more about it though, Kurapika's presence suddenly disappears - an employment of Zetsu then, and Leorio is glad, because it means Kurapika trusts Leorio to keep him safe.
They stare at eachother for a few awkward moments, unsure of what to say, before Kurapika shrugs.
"I just needed a place to crash for the night. Sorry." Kurapika's words are short and clipped, a result of tiredness.
"Stupid. Don't apologise. I told you that you were welcome."
"I put you in danger," is Kurapika's retort, but there's no energy to it.
"And you don't think that becoming a Hunter is dangerous?" Leorio knows he's acting defensive, but he would've thought that after York Shin, Kurapika would've learned to have some faith in the abilities of his friends.
Kurapika snorts. There's an obvious response to the question, about courting danger, but he can't really say anything.
"It was my choice to take this path."
"And like we proved to you in York Shin, you don't have to do it alone," Leorio snaps back, and there's an edge of real anger to it.
Kurapika sighs, but makes no comment.
Somehow, Leorio feels as if he's lost a battle he wasn't even aware he was fighting. He wants to argue more, to push the point until it finally gets into that stupid bastard's head, because they are friends, and you don't push friends away like that. Sometimes, he thinks as he pours the hot water into the teacup, you need to leave be.
"At least," he says finally. "Stay for lunch."
There's a moment of silence, couldn't have been more than five seconds, but it feels that much longer, before Kurapika replies, "Sure, so long as you're not cooking. I've camped with you before," and there's a note of humour to his voice.
Leorio snorts, "Fine. I'll get take away."
And maybe, that's a step forward.
06. last contactIt's been six months, fifteen days, six hours, and twenty minutes since last contact.
The Nostrade family has ceased to be of use to him, it's wealth lost, it's connections used. His nails are digging into the palm of his hand, and he needs this, needs the pain to anchor him to reality. What now? Which move to make?
He's made his own connections, smiled blandly as he rubs shoulders with criminals of the worst calibre. Doesn't go as far as to state a specific interest, but his Boss has a keen interest in body parts, pretty things, mn? And so, they come running, not just for money, but for a favour here and there, one person dead, and it doesn't really matter, another scared into agreeing, the drug money was due a few days ago, so where is it? See, Kurta eyes, most beautiful shade of red in the world. It takes all he has not to scream "These are my family, these belong to me by Right, these are my family" for they do not respect ideas of clan and family .
Six months, fifteen days, six hours, and twenty five minutes too late, and there's an envelop on his table, unopened, but he knows what it says.
Leorio has been accepted to medical school. Leorio has found him again, despite being cut off (for six months, fifteen days, six hours and twenty five minutes).
(Leorio is looking at him with something unreadable in his eyes, Leorio is smiling at him, Leorio says "Don't push yourself too hard." Leorio says "Damn it Kurapika," because he's gone in without back up, damn it Kurapika-)
The neat script on the plain envelope reads –
Leorio Palidiknight
York Shin University of Eoin Johnson, 6029
– and he knows this place, knows the name, the university: a place that specialises in research on the human body, neural connections, nerves within the spine, head injuries.
"Research? Into healing the eyes? It's possible but there are all sorts of causes."
It's all useless to him, but wasn't, once.
"We need research grants. Money, and interest from people."
Because Kurapika doesn't need to know how to heal.
"I'll tell you though - if it was a fall, and eye damage, it's likely a head injury. The brain is a delicate instrument, and it would be hard to heal."
Kurapika doesn't need to know (knows anyway) how to break someone, to torture them by crippling them.
He closes his eyes, and thinks of nothing (" Somewhere in the outside world... I'll find a doctor that can cure your eyes and legs... ").
He leaves the letter on the desk, unopened.
Six months, fifteen days, six hours, and thirty minutes.
The clock ticks on.
07. surrealSometimes, it feels like a dream. The Hunter exam. York Shin City, and chasing the Phantom Troupe. A whole other world that his three fellow examinees, and his Hunter card, belonged to. That Leorio didn't. Wasn't apart of.
And yet, here he is now, yelling at one of the fucking Zodiacs, because damn all propriety, damn everything, this is Gon that is at stake here. He never gave many fucks anyways. This is the life of one of his allies, his friend. This is Gon, who risked his fucking life out there, with Chairman Netero and Killua, doing something while he studied and jerked around and bought girls home. Ging makes a lackadaisical answer, and that's all that it really takes, to tip him over the edge, for him to push his fist through the table and activate his Nen ability (right in front of several hundred people, but he doesn't care ), out the other side and he's huffing for breath and there are cheers in the room.
Bastard.
There are cheers in the room.
And this is how it leads him to this point in time, where he's standing on stage with three other contestants for Chairman of the damn Hunters association. Why is he here? Why would people even vote for him, when he knows jack shit about running an organisation like this.
For Gon, he thinks, and takes the stage.
Honestly, much of what happens, most of the stupid things he says, he doesn't remember. There was something about privatisation, and save Gon, and perhaps he just doesn't care to remember, because it's overwhelmed by Gon, Gon is alive, Gon is well. Because he had meant what he said, that Gon had been beyond bad.
(And then Gon had cut through the situation he'd gone and tied himself up in knots in with that simplistic way of his and voted for Pariston because Leorio wants to be a doctor, so he can't be the chairman, and it's the most beautiful, logical thing he's heard all day, all week perhaps.)
Because Gon had lain there in that broken state on life support and there'd been a queasy feeling in his stomach despite countless dissections and there's no way that anything he's studied could've fixed that. This is the power of a Hunter. This is the power of Nen.
...This is his world too.
And these are the people he would risk his life for. Allies. Friends.
Beneath the happiness is an undercurrent of where the fuck are you Kurapika? that he refuses to let ruin this moment for him, because if Kurapika is ignoring his calls...
There is naught he can do it about it.
Leorio sighs, and presses the dial button again. Listens to the ringtone.
Nothing.
08. funeralHere in this back door alley church, there are ten glass jars together worth billions of Jenny. There are ten glass jars on display, the gains of almost two years of effort. And oh, how quickly those two years have passed.
His cell phone is ringing in between his palms, and he should pick it up. That he should answer, because he may be needed.
The cell keeps ringing into the silence.
Kurapika doesn't know who the eyes belong to. Perhaps they are his mother's. Perhaps they are the Elder's. There is no way to tell, bar DNA testing, and he has long buried those bodies (rotting beneath the ground, putridputridputridputrid gone ). Ten pairs of thirty six.
He had taken a cloth to the jars, polished them so that there were no fingerprints to be seen, no remnants of greedy collectors and their grubby paws on the legacy of his clan. But this in itself is a homage to those collectors, those human filth. Ten sets of Kurta eyes, the most beautiful red the world has seen, sitting in gleaming glass jars, placed up on display.
The last legacy of his clan.
He wants to laugh.
The absurdity of the situation strikes him. The business suit fits him perfectly, has been tailored for him. And yet. It chafes at him, to be sitting here in this suit, dressed in a symbol of the outside world. He should be in his clan clothes. He should be wearing the garb of his clan, to show that he is not one of theirs, that he is here for vengeance.
But he cannot.
Kurapika knows he should pray. That he should give his offerings up to the dead, but he cannot keep his thoughts clear. He cannot pray for their angry souls to be appeased.
Kurapika can only stand vigil.
09. abandonKurapika has not been answering his calls. Leorio knows that he hasn't changed his number, that Kurapika is ignoring his calls. It's frustrating, but at least Kurapika hasn't changed his number again. At least he hasn't abandoned him completely. Something in him hurts at the idea that Kurapika would leave them completely. Leave Gon, and Killua. Leave Leorio .
Leorio is maybe-probably attracted to Kurapika, and though there's the oh so sharp contrast, between soft features, wispy hair, a delicate jaw line, and the power that Kurapika holds within him, able to take away lives with minimal effort, Nen and beauty and death contained within the one lithe figure, it's the smiles, the fondness, his laugh, and the kindness that really attracts him. Leorio's maybe slightly smitten. But even so. He doesn't know if Kurapika wants romantic entanglements before his revenge is complete. He doesn't know if Kurapika wants a pretty wife to restart the Kurta Clan with.
But Leorio is a friend, and regardless of what happens there, he'll always support Kurapika, because Kurapika needs the support. He needs an anchor, to stop the current dragging him away and drowning him. Revenge is like that, Sensei had said. Revenge is a current, it will come to you, and what you need is to be able to pull yourself out, to anchor yourself so you can swim again.
Leorio understands the need for space. But this isn't space. This is systematically attempting (succeeding) to isolate yourself from everyone who cares in order to go down a self-destructive path of revenge.
This is binding yourself to the past, because the future is uncertain.
Hell, Leorio does it himself. It's his own guilt that ties him to his dreams, that inform his dreams. It's not just guilt though that fuels him. Guilt isn't everything. Nor is anger, nor is hatred. Leorio wants to help. He wants to make the world a better place. That's all he needs.
It makes him angry. Angry and lost and he wonders, where will you be, twenty years from now? Where will I be? Where will any of us be? He's not used to brooding - he's used to taking action because he can, drinking and flirting and laughing because he can. Taking the most of life.
Kurapika...
Leorio sighs, and buries his head in his palms.
Next to him, the cellphone beeps in protest as his call is once again, ignored.
How do you help someone who doesn't want to be helped?