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Three years ago, Kurapika wasn’t sure why he was standing on Leorio’s doorstep in the middle of the night. It wasn’t too late to turn away, to go back to the way things were—ignored calls and texts, worried messages and Kurapika tearing his gaze from the concerned words that were burned in his mind. He hated when Leorio worried about him.
But he knocked on the door anyway, despite the growing feeling of dread in his stomach. He wasn’t surprised when there wasn’t an answer. Leorio was probably asleep. Most likely asleep. Kurapika thought of Leorio passed out in bed, oblivious of the fact that Kurapika was standing on his front porch, waiting for an answer.
Kurapika stared at the grain in the wood that rained down the door, and he clutched his bag tighter.
Leorio would hate him if he turned up so suddenly. He would hate him for running away, taking with him every trace of what proved to him that Kurapika was still alive.
Yes. He was sure of that. He still had time to run away again. He was good at that, that’s all he ever really was good at and remained a concrete constant in his life. Leorio wouldn’t know he was there, and would never know.
Maybe, if he left it all behind again, the texts and calls would stop calling. The sadness in the short voicemails would cease, and everything would change again. Maybe Leorio would stop worrying about him.
But Kurapika knocked again. And when there wasn’t a response again, he knocked once more. And again. And again, until they grew frantic and demanding. Every time his white-knuckled fist met the door he listened over the pounding for a rustle, any sign of Leorio.
Kurapika had nowhere else to go. He severed his ties with the mafia, left them behind in the dust because he was tired and his work was done. The eyes were buried, the Spiders were dead. They served no use to him anymore.
“What the fuck —” a voice grumbled from off in the house. The locks began to click, and Kurapika felt like the wind was knocked out of hm. “Christ.”
There was a beat of silence, and Kurapika could hear the blood roaring in his ears. If he was fast enough, he could jump off the porch and make a break down the hill, keep running until he made it to the street, run until he found a hotel that could be open and—
“ Kurapika? ”
The porch light glared on his eyes. Leorio stared at him from the open doorway, an expression somewhere between anger, concern, surprise, and sadness written on his angled, tired face.
Kurapika gaped. It was too late to run. He tensed up. It was so quiet that they could both hear each other’s breathing.
“I shouldn’t have come,” Kurapika murmured. “I am so sorry, Leorio, just forget it—”
Leorio furrowed his brows just as Kurapika turned away. “Where the fuck have you been?” he hissed. “Kurapika. Don’t fucking run away again.”
He was angry. His hands shook, and Kurapika could tell that he wanted to hurt him, but he didn’t.
“Why couldn’t you fucking be there when we needed you? Gon almost fucking died , Killua was a mess, and I needed you here. You kept fucking running away, doing God only knows what, and God forbid you ever stay too close to us. Because all you fucking did , Kurapika, was hurt us more. It’s been too long.”
Leorio spoke his name with such poison and fear. He stared him down with so much anger that Kurapika stayed put on his spot on the porch.
“I called, and I called , and I waited for an answer but it never came. But I hoped that you would, one day, and I hoped you would come back. And you never did.” He scoffed. “We needed you,” he muttered. And, with a sour look, he added: “ I needed you.”
“I’m sorry,” Kurapika sighed.
Leorio let out a bitter, almost sad laugh. The sound was tight. “Fuck. Were you followed?” Kurapika shook his head. “Okay. Come in.”
He moved aside to let Kurapika in the front room, and he led Kurapika to the kitchen. Leorio wandered to one of the cupboards above the counter, and Kurapika took a seat at the kitchen island.
He pressed his elbows against the cold, sleek black granite and stared at the fridge to his right. A picture of Gon, Killua, and Leorio grinned at him; a purple sticky note written by Gon beamed at him with it’s cheerful wishes of good luck and scribbled drawings of trees and birds. Sorrow settled into Kurapika’s shoulders and chest. He missed so much. They didn’t have much to miss when it came to him.
“Have you been getting any sleep?” Leorio asked.
Kurapika stared down at his hands. “No.”
“I figured.” Kurapika could hear the clinking of glasses together, and the groan of a coffee maker. “One call would have been enough.”
Kurapika pursed his lips. He wasn’t going to say sorry, because he knew he’d be saying that a lot that night. An apology means nothing if it has fizzled out. He could hear the hot liquid begin to pour out into one of the mugs.
“One call, Kurapika.”
Kurapika rubbed at his eyes. He didn’t feel like being angry. He was too tired to be angry.
“Are you staying?” Leorio asked, his voice a little gentler. He placed a mug in front of Kurapika, a thin veil of steam curling over the sides. It almost reminded him of a honeypot.
Kurapika brought the mug close to his chest, fingers curled around the round sides of it and the warmth pressed into his palms. “Yes, I am.” He took a sip of the tea, cautious of the heat, and noticed by the faint stinging flavor that it was probably peppermint mixed with a type of mocha.
Leorio took a drink of his own, and set it down with a soft thud on the table. “For how long?”
Kurapika stared down at the contents of the mug. Bubbles stared up at him and the steam was beginning to cool. The air smelled of peppermint and faint cinnamon.
Right. Leorio was thinking that he would leave again. And he wasn’t. He wanted to stay.
“As long as you’ll have me,” he replied.
Leorio nodded once, and looked off into the rest of the kitchen. The soft orange light above the sink gleamed off of his glasses, highlighted the shadows in his face and all Kurapika could do was look back down into his drink.
“What have you been doing? How’s your mission?”
Kurapika took another sip. He wondered if Gon and Killua drank that stuff when they visited. Did they remember him still? Or did they only remember his absence? “I finished it,” said Kurapika. Leorio’s eyes widened. “I found them all.”
Leorio’s angry expression melted away for a moment, but hardened back again. “You did?”
“Yes.” Kurapika held his left hand in his right. He thought of the cold chains, warm blood on his face and all of the sleepless nights spent chasing another lead; the painful and intense relief that came after years spent hunting. “Every last one.”
He couldn’t even get another word in until Leorio came around the island and brought him in a crushing hug.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Leorio muttered. He held Kurapika so tightly that he was sure one of his ribs would fucking break if he squeezed any harder. “Why did you text me back, dammit. I would have come and found you.”
I wanted to , Kurapika wanted to say. I’m sorry. I wanted to, but I didn’t want you to get hurt.
“I didn’t have time,” Kurapika said instead. “Once I laid them to rest, I had to cut off the mafia. I wanted to find you.”
When Leorio pulled away, the look on his face broke Kurapika’s heart.
“I’m really proud of you,” Leorio managed through a cracking voice. “You have no idea.” Kurapika patted his arm in thanks.
Once they downed their drinks, the heat melting down their throats and chests, Leorio took Kurapika to the second floor and led him to a room down the hall. As they walked, Kurapika glanced at the few framed pictures on the wall. The faces were hard to distinguish in the darkness, but he could faintly place a grin behind the glass of one of the pictures beaming at him.
“Okay,” Leorio sighed as he opened the door to the room. “You can take the bed, I'll go sleep on the couch or take Killua’s bed. Do you need anything?”
“No, thank you.”
“Alright. I’ll let you borrow some clothes.”
Leorio handed him an old cotton shirt with fraying cuffs and a pair of sweatpants that smelled faintly of laundry detergent. He showed Kurapika to the bathroom connected to the bedroom, and shut the door behind Kurapika once he had stepped inside.
“Just lay your dirty clothes here outside,” Leorio called outside of the door to the bathroom. “Don’t forget to take your binder off, too—wait, do you still have one? Hold on, that was intrusive, sorry.”
“Yes, I still have one,” Kurapika responded with a rise in his voice so he could hear.
“Alright. I’ll wash that for you in the morning. When you’re done, I’ll bring up extra blankets. Brush your teeth, too, you heathen,” came his muffled words.
Kurapika nodded to himself, undressed himself over the cool tile, and rolled up the sleeves of the shirt and tied the sweatpants so that they’d fit around his waist better. He cast himself a glance in the mirror as he buttoned the shirt; how had he managed to look so old, yet being so young? His eyes lost their familiar light.
After dropping his clothes and binder by the door, as well as brushing his teeth, Kurapika burrowed himself under Leorio’s blankets and listened to the sound of his footsteps down the hall.
Leorio came back a few moments later, two folded blankets in his arms. He handed them to Kurapika, and went to the doorway as Kurapika laid them out over himself before resting his head on a pillow.
He watched as the blonde head popped up from behind a rise in the blankets, a pair of grey eyes staring at him in the dim light. “You don’t have to sleep on the couch,” Kurapika said before he could turn away.
A scoff came from the doorway. “That’s why I said I could take Killua’s bed, too.”
Kurapika sat up, still watching Leorio from the bed. “You can sleep with me. I don’t mind.”
Leorio gaped before bluntly rolling his eyes. “Jesus. Take me to dinner first, sunshine.” He grinned as Kurapika turned his head in indulgence at the sound of the nickname. “You’re sure you’re fine with me sleeping in the same bed as you?”
Kurapika nodded. “Yes.”
Brows were furrowed and arms were crossed before Leorio’s chest. “Why do you want me to sleep with you?”
“I don’t want you to think I’m leaving again. And I feel guilty for taking up space in your home, so you should at least sleep in your own bed.”
Leorio’s face softened. “Oh.”
“It’s your choice, though.” He shrugged. “Kick me out if you’d like. I just think you should at least sleep in your own bed.”
The brows furrowed again, prompting a smile from Kurapika, and Leorio let out a dejected sigh. “Okay,” he muttered. “Fine. Move over. If you hog the blankets, you’re sleeping on the floor.”
Kurapika smiled, and rolled over closer to the left side of the bed. Leorio took the right, and snatched a blanket from Kurapika’s greedy clutches in the process.
When the two of them finally settled, they laid flat on their backs, faces turned towards the ceiling.
“Kurapika.”
Kurapika turned his head. “What?”
Leorio shrugged. “You can relax, y’know,” he said. “You look really tense.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. C’mere.” Leorio held his arms open, waving Kurapika over to him. “Unless you don’t want to,” he added quickly.
Kurapika crept over to his side, letting Leorio gently wrap an arm around him and pull him close. Close enough for Kurapika to rest his head on his bicep. Kurapika squeezed his eyes shut and crept closer, and laid his head on Leorio’s chest.
It was like the universe was expanding underneath his fingertips; the gentle flutter of a heartbeat in his ear and his cheek pressed against soft fabric. Leorio ran his hand along Kurapika’s back, and Kurapika could have let the house swallow him up in every inch.
He didn’t deserve that kindness, after all he had done. But he was so tired, so worn, and so, so, so weary and sad. Kurapika never really allowed himself to be truly sad, it just hung around him and never bothered to leave.
Which was part of the reason why he tightly set his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut when Leorio said to him, in a soft voice: “You know you’re safe, right?”
Kurapika swallowed a sob, leaving his throat raw and aching. “Yes,” he murmured.
The house settled gently. Kurapika listened to the steady beat of Leorio’s heart, helplessly trying to blink away tears.
“You can cry, sunshine,” whispered Leorio. “You can cry. It’s okay. You’re okay.”
Kurapika held himself closer to Leorio and cried for what seemed, to him, to be ages. He turned his head to avoid getting Leorio’s shirt wet, so he stared at the ceiling as Leorio held him without a word.
For a while, the only sounds in the house were the sounds of the wind outside and Kurapika’s tired, aching sobs that wracked his weary body.
“I’m here for you,” Leorio said once Kurapika’s breath slowed.
“It’s rotten work,” whispered Kurapika. He sniffled and wiped away the tears that had slipped from his eyes.
“Not to me,” Leorio answered. “Not if it’s you.”
Leorio could feel the soft sigh flicker out underneath his palm. “Why?”
Because I love you , Leorio wanted to say. You’re still my best friend after all of these years and I love you more than anything.
“You’re my best friend,” was Leorio’s soft reply. “And I’d do anything for you.”
Kurapika stilled. Leorio tensed and warily watched him, cursing himself for bringing it too far, almost waiting to watch him get up and leave and take with him the last chance they had to fix everything.
But Kurapika never left.
“I’m still angry at you, though,” Leorio added after a while. He didn’t expect Kurapika to respond in any way, but Kurapika gave him a single nod. “So fucking angry. But it’s okay now.”
“I expected nothing less.”
“I won’t yell at you, though. Just being mad at you earlier took it out of me, and I think that’s the last thing you need to hear right now.”
The warmth of Kurapika’s cheek pressed a little harder on his chest. “I’m really sorry. I know it won’t make any of it right, but I just need you to at least acknowledge that I mean it.” His voice was low, with so much exhaustion layered in his words. “I didn’t want you or the boys to get hurt because of me.” He winced suddenly, and curled more inside himself. “I ended up doing that myself.”
Leorio frowned. “I know you meant well in the beginning. It wasn’t fair.”
“I know.”
Leorio squeezed his shoulder gently. “But hey. I’m really glad you’re here.”
“Thank you, Leorio.”
“Mhm.” He cast a wary gaze down towards Kurapika. “Get some sleep, sunshine.” Kurapika nodded, and quieted.
His breathing slowed moments later, and he curled closer to Leorio. Leorio watched him for a moment. Not in a creepy way, he wouldn’t do that to anyone, but in a way in which he quietly observed Kurapika in much-needed peace and rest.
Were his eyelashes always that long? Were his hands always so gentle? Were his eye bags always that purple and dark? Did Kurapika get the soft freckles on his face from playing as a child on some warm afternoon, before all of the awful things began, or did he get them from spending hours under the hot sun carrying out mafia work in broad daylight? All of the worries from the past several years washed over Leorio, and that ever-familiar heartache let out a sudden pang in his chest.
He looked so much older, and Leorio realized to himself that this was probably the first time Kurapika had gotten a peaceful sleep in a long time.
He’d give Kurapika the moon if he asked him. He’d give up as much time as he could if it meant that Kurapika could always stay, if it meant that Kurapika could always be happy and never have to worry about things that were so much bigger than him. Leorio was still so angry with him for leaving and keeping quiet, but maybe the love he felt was bigger than the agitation.
Leorio, without much thinking, moved his hand from Kurapika’s back to his hair. And then, again, without much thinking, he ran his hands through the strands and gently untangled the locks.
He continued to do it until his own eyes began to droop, until he leaned to his left to switch off the bedside lamp, until he stared up at the dark ceiling. A part of him felt as if it was all a dream; if he woke up the next morning, Kurapika wouldn’t be there, and would never come back.
The mere idea of that kept him awake. Kurapika’s slow breathing came in and out like a tender breeze, and Leorio listened to the sound of it as if it could quell his fears. If anything, it made the whole thing more surreal.
He pressed his lips to the top of Kurapika’s head, wondering what it would feel like to feel his warmth for the rest of his life, if it was possible. He pulled away a second later and let his head drop to the pillows.
He was fucked. The love definitely outweighed the anger.
Eventually, his eyes drooped shut after what seemed to be ages of fighting, and the two of them wrapped their arms around each other in their slumber.
They were just Kurapika and Leorio. Not Kurapika the vengeful, sleepless chain user. Not Leorio the seemingly tireless doctor, despite how wrong and inaccurate the nickname was. Just Kurapika and Leorio, simply and nothing less or more than that.
When they would wake up in the morning on opposite sides of the bed, neither of them would speak of the event. Not for a long time, at least.
Kurapika would not tell Leorio of what it felt like to hear his heartbeat, and Leorio would not tell Kurapika of what it felt like to press a kiss to the crown of his head and hold him close. Nothing would be said but a kind ‘thank you’ and a teasing ‘don’t mention it’.
When Leorio woke up the next morning, he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Kurapika fast asleep beside him.
And when the visit of Gon, Killua, and Alluka rolled around, all Leorio wanted to do was just wallow in the joy that was palpable in the air. Years later, the memory of that day would come occasionally and bring a soft smile on his face.
Kurapika grew a little less tense eventually. It took a long time, but with time his shoulders relaxed, his eyes a little brighter and unafraid to grow shades of coral-pink and cherry-red, his hands gentler and joints not threatening to burst through the skin when he balled up his fists. It was good to watch him grow. Even on his worst days, when nightmares would come back or when Kurapika’s mind would wander, Leorio would remind him that healing is never linear; good days can’t exist without the bad.
Kurapika came to love the little things with time. He relished every small moment with Killua when they would laugh over a joke, every hike with Gon that took them through forests and plains, every early morning with Alluka, spending hours in the little garden or walking the streets of Yorknew, every little touch or turn of phrase that would prompt a good laugh from Leorio. He was grateful for them.
Three years ago, Kurapika came back to the people who loved him, and of whom he loved as well, and never regretted staying.