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The night it happens, Leorio is thinking about how lucky he is.
He will reflect, later, that there is a lesson here somewhere— and live the rest of his long days remembering it. Count your blessings, but don’t count on them. To get comfortable is to lose sight of the laws of the universe. Something like that. He will never become a pessimist— it isn’t in his nature— but he will grow guarded, more cautious. It will not be a gift, although there are certainly some in his life who would consider it so.
Now, though: he is thinking of his luck.
Sprawled out across the couch with his head in Kurapika’s lap, TV on, Alluka’s laughter coming from the other room. The boys are showing her some horror game they pretend not to be afraid of, but Leorio can hear them screaming about anomalies when they think they’re being quiet.
Kurapika scratches Leorio’s head slowly, lightly, like he’s an old dog worthy of only the gentlest touches. It switches a light on in the center of him.
Then— “hey”— Kurapika is reaching away, reaching for the remote, turning the volume up. Leorio mumbles in protest before his eyes focus on the screen. It’s Machi in a tailored suit, testifying.
“We don’t need to watch this,” Leorio starts to say, but it’s half-hearted, weak. Kurapika doesn’t deem it worth answering— doesn’t even look at him— although Leorio can see the red seeping into his eyes from his peripheral.
They watch in silence.
TROUPE MEMBER ON TRIAL AFTER DEATH OF CHROLLO LUCILFER runs the headline at the bottom of the screen. Machi remains poised and expressionless as the prosecutor questions her. It appears that the rest of the Phantom Troupe has not been located yet.
“You realize that without your cooperation, you’ll be put behind bars?” the attorney asks.
Machi looks straight into the camera. Coolly, she shrugs, one-shouldered.
“Be sure to throw away the key,” she says. “Or I’ll come looking for you.”
Leorio snatches the remote from where Kurapika has set it down between them.
“I think,” he says, shutting the TV off, “that’s enough.”
“Mm,” Kurapika says. “I’m going to bed.”
“Good idea,” Leorio says, following.
Sometimes it’s good to be together when one of them is feeling a little unhinged. They’ve found healthier ways to take their frustrations out on one another. But tonight, when Leorio leans forward in the dark, Kurapika pushes him off and turns away.
Message received, Leorio thinks. Loud and clear.
But it doesn’t become clear— not really— until later in the night when he wakes to two red eyes staring at the ceiling. Something sinks in Leorio’s gut.
“I have to go,” Kurapika says quietly.
“You don’t,” Leorio says. “You don’t really.”
Kurapika leans in, kisses him softly. It’s too gentle and quick to be memorized the way Leorio likes to memorize his kisses— a great shame in retrospect— the night all his luck runs out.
“What are you gonna do, babe? Be reasonable.”
“They were supposed to be punished.”
“You can’t be the one to decide that.”
“Can’t I?” Kurapika asks, and there’s real venom in his voice. “They took everyone I loved from me. They stole years of my life. My people have been completely forgotten because of them— our language and our customs. Our songs and our art. Wiped out. Because of them. Why can’t I decide? They decided for me.”
Leorio takes a deep breath, thinking. There’s a delicate balance to having these types of conversations with Kurapika— both understanding and firm. Leorio has learned patience from him.
“I just don’t think this is what your family would have wanted for you.”
“Well, we’ll never know, will we?” It’s snappish and uncalled for and they both know it. Kurapika sighs, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I know you’re just trying to help.” He looks Leorio in the eye then, open and honest. “They would have liked you so much.”
There’s nothing Leorio can say to that. Nothing to acknowledge all of that loss properly. He reaches for Kurapika’s hand.
“Let me help you at least.”
Kurapika snatches it away.
“No. Never.”
“Because you think I’m weak,” Leorio supplies.
“No,” Kurapika says, and it’s the truth. He’s not sure he’s ever made it clear how strong he thinks Leorio is, and he’s not sure now is the time either.
He has been unfair, he knows. He has withheld his admiration and awe of the man he wakes up to every morning.
“You think I’d only get in your way.”
“You would get in my way,” Kurapika says with a scowl. “Everything about you gets in my way.”
And although Leorio knows exactly what Kurapika is so gracelessly trying to say, it still stings somehow. It still makes him feel like everything they are to one another is a roadblock. He pulls his hand back into his lap.
“When are you coming back then?”
“I don’t know.”
“A week? Two? A month?”
“Leorio—“
“I mean, how long can it take, realistically? You still have your old underground contacts and all the resources of the Zodiacs behind you. Say your goal is to hunt them down one by one— I mean, I don’t like it, but I’m guessing that’s what your goal is. You’re quick and smart, so what is that? Half a year, tops?”
“There’s no formula, Leorio. Don’t act like there is.”
“You have to give me something,” Leorio says, gritting his teeth, “to work with. How long?”
“I don’t know,” Kurapika insists. “I don’t know if you’ll even— if you’ll still want this when I come back.”
Leorio sits up now, throwing on the bedside light. The pit in his gut opens up like a mouth, threatening to swallow him whole.
“Are you shitting me?”
Kurapika doesn’t say anything.
“When,” Leorio continues, “have I ever made you feel like you couldn’t come home to me?”
“You— “
“When have I ever shown you anything but unconditional love and understanding?”
Kurapika sighs, like he’s put off. Like this situation is putting him off.
“When, Kurapika? When have I been anything but good to you?”
“It’s difficult to answer your questions when you won’t give me a moment to breathe.”
“They’re rhetorical questions!” Leorio shouts. “I already know the answers to them!”
Kurapika doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t look at Leorio. He sits with his knees pulled up to his chest, focused on the space ahead of him. He will leave, he knows, because something irreparable broke inside of him when he was twelve years old— and no amount of love or affection from another person is going to fix it. He will leave because his purpose in his life is to break and ruin things. The rage inside of him is a pulsing, breathing thing— terrible and conscious— and every day he does not acknowledge it it gets a little angrier.
He doesn’t know how to respond to it without destroying himself and everything around it. His answer to the cards he’s been dealt is to face them head-on and blow up the deck.
“I love you,” Leorio says. “Isn’t it enough?”
Kurapika doesn’t say anything. This, too, is an answer.
***
“At least call,” Leorio says in the morning, watching Kurapika pack his things.
There isn’t much, he notices— and most of it is the bare necessities. Kurapika slips a photograph of the five of them in the front pocket of his bag, and another one of just Leorio beside it. He leaves his Kurta clothing behind, opting for suits instead. Everything in a neat little pile.
“Hey,” Leorio says, stilling Kurapika’s hands. “Will you at least call? Once a week. Please?”
“I’ll try.”
“I need you to do more than that, Kurapika.”
“Okay.”
It’s not satisfying, but Leorio doesn’t push. He feels out of control and too exhausted to be indignant, a whole city crumbling around him. Is this what love is, then? Brief interludes of calm between the absolute terror of letting another person hold you in the palm of their hands.
He thinks: this is unfair to me.
And it is— he knows that it is— but it isn’t necessarily Kurapika’s fault. It isn’t as though Leorio has been misled or lied to. In the years they’ve been together, Kurapika has never misrepresented the potential difficulties of being in a relationship with him. He has refrained from making long-term promises, spoken openly about his shortcomings, and reminded Leorio time and time again that nothing will ever be easy. And that’s fine. That’s all well and good. Leorio doesn’t need easy. But he does need Kurapika alive, and he does need them together.
Those things no longer feel like guarantees.
Is this what love is? Standing completely still in the eye of a storm, all hollowed out. Why ever do it? But when he looks at Kurapika’s side profile, the curve of his nose and mouth, brows furrowed as he packs— Leorio knows. Why ever do anything else?
“This doesn’t change anything for me,” Leorio says. “You know that, right?”
“It might.”
“No, Kurapika.”
“Very well,” Kurapika shrugs. He’s never been one for pointless arguments, and their time is getting shorter. He manages a smile. “I love you. Even though I’m not particularly good at it. I won’t apologize for the way I am— but I am sorry for not being a better partner to you.”
“Stop.”
“Only because I really have to go.”
“Whatever,” Leorio waves a hand, like his heart isn’t stuck in his throat. “I’ll see you when you get back. I love you too. Don’t die. And don’t forget to call.”
If he tries hard enough, Leorio can treat this like any other day— any other mission. The Zodiacs separate them from time to time, and Kurapika worked for the first year and a half of their relationship. The Phantom Troupe’s role in this particular situation shouldn’t make a difference. Never mind that he knows that it does. Never mind that he feels like they’re teetering on the edge of a knife, the danger looming on either end. He takes a breath and forces a smile. He is always being left behind.
“I realize I’m in no position to do this right now, but I’d like to ask you for a favor,” Kurapika says at the door.
What’s one more thing? Leorio thinks. He says: “Go ahead.”
“If something happens, I’d like it if you moved on.”
It’s a slap in the face. Leorio’s eyes narrow.
“Nothing’s going to happen to you.”
“Still,” Kurapika says. “I’d feel better if you promised me.”
“You know— not to be a dick— but your feelings aren’t my top priority right now.”
Kurapika blinks, and Leorio feels a brief, smug sense of satisfaction. It’s not often that he can catch him off guard.
“That’s fair,” Kurapika says slowly.
They don’t make a big show of it, of Kurapika’s leaving, but when they say goodbye the kiss to bruise.
***
Voicemail: Guess I called at a bad time— but it’s been a week since I’ve heard from you and I needed to check in. Where are you? How are you? As good as can be expected, I guess. The kids have been suspiciously well-behaved lately. Made me dinner and everything. Should I be concerned? You think they’re going through some type of quarter life crisis? They’re barely old enough to drink.
Hey— are you eating at least? Getting enough sleep? Actually— don’t tell me, I can already predict the answers and they’ll only keep me up at night.
Call me when you can. I love you, I miss you. Bye.
***
Voicemail: It’s been over two weeks, Kurapika. Call me.
***
Voicemail: Melody says you’re still alive.
It’s funny. I was never jealous of her, all that time ago, with Gon in the hospital and you MIA— but I’m jealous now. I’m jealous you trust her more than me. I’m jealous she gets to see your face— whatever it’s doing— whether it’s bruised or broken or what. I don’t want to think of you hurt. But sometimes, Kurapika, it’s the only way I can stand to accept the fact that you’re doing this again.
“He’s in too much pain to talk,” I tell myself. “Maybe all his teeth got knocked out. Maybe he’s trying to stop the bleeding.”
And then I think: “Holy shit, Leorio. You’re an awful human being. This is the person you love we’re talking about.”
So— either way, I feel like shit.
***
One night, six months into the absence, the phone rings. For a moment there’s just silence in the dark, soft breaths and a thousand words left unsaid.
Then: “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah,” Leorio says. “I know.”
There’s nothing for a while.
“You’re not coming back, are you?” Leorio asks.
He hears a broken noise on the other end.
“It’s okay,” Leorio says softly.
“It isn’t.”
“It isn’t,” Leorio concedes.
More silence.
“Take care of yourself, okay?”
Kurapika hangs up. Leorio listens to the dial tone for a long, long time.
***
The months pass— then the years.
The first few feel impossible. The next— better. Not great, but better. Leorio starts to date again, because that’s what you do when your criminal boyfriend disappears one morning with the promise of returning and never does. He dates men and women. He falls in and out of love. He learns how to guard his heart— not so much that he’s unrecognizable— but enough that it’s safe. And for long stretches of time, he is single, and even happy.
The kids stay close. They aren’t kids anymore— none of them are— but Leorio remains overly protective of them; and, as more time goes by, they of him.
He becomes a doctor. He gets a permanent position at a prestigious hospital in the city. He is promoted to Chief of Pediatric Surgery. When Alluka decides to follow in his footsteps, he mentors her until she’s the most promising young student in her class.
Leorio does not lose his sense of humor, or sincerity, or willingness to see the good in others. He is still fair and earnest. He does not grow bitter, though some days it’s harder than others.
“You know, old man,” Killua says to him one night over dinner. “You’re a really good person.”
“What did you break?”
“Nothing! God, can’t I just say something nice about you once in a while?”
“Nope,” Leorio says, chewing thoughtfully. “Usually it’s because you want something.”
“Well I don’t want anything,” Killua glowers. “And I take it back anyway.”
“No can do, kiddo. I know your secret now.”
“Shut up.”
Leorio grins. “You’re a good person, too. You know that, right?”
“Whatever,” Killua says.
“Not whatever.”
“Yeah, whatever. And you’re out of ice cream, by the way.”
“That explains it,” Leorio says, laughing.
He ages well. He learns to be less quick to anger, steadier in the heat of the moment. He thinks of Kurapika often— sometimes fondly, sometimes with a very real panic. Always with love. He wonders if Kurapika feels the same.
Fourteen years pass until they see each other again.
***
It isn’t until Leorio’s work brings him to a remote village outside of Lukso that he runs into Kurapika, after all this time, reaching for the same peach at the farmers market. His hair is longer— half of it pulled back in a messy bun— and he’s thinner somehow, but it’s him.
Leorio’s mouth dries up.
Kurapika looks at him for a long moment before retracting his hand from the peach.
“Leorio,” he says quietly.
“Holy shit.”
A sound— almost a laugh. It’s so much better and so much worse than the last sound Leorio heard him making. Kurapika invites him back to his home— a small cabin on a nearby lake— and despite all logic, Leorio accepts.
They don’t speak much until the kettle’s boiling and Kurapika pours them two mugs of tea. He studies the faint lines on Kurapika’s face, carved from stress rather than age. He’s still the most beautiful man Leorio has ever seen, which makes everything worse somehow. Years have gone by, his heart has been broken, and still— Kurapika can walk back into his life and he’s nineteen again, gangly and awkward with a mouth like a sailor’s— hopeless, head over heels. It isn’t fair. It’s never been fair.
“Milk and sugar?” Kurapika asks, and Leorio nods, just once.
“Nice to see you drinking something besides Red Bull.”
“Mm,” Kurapika says to fill the silence. He sits besides Leorio on the couch, sets their tea down on the coffee table. “I don’t get a lot of company, so— ” he indicates the room, almost apologetic, as though sitting next to one another is crossing some kind of boundary.
“It’s nice,” Leorio says, and he means it. Small, but tastefully furnished and cozy. Large windows let in honey-colored light and illuminate Kurapika’s hair and eyes. A black cat watches them from on top of the bookcase, curled up, lazily flicking its tail. “Who’s this?”
“Ah— the cat is… not friendly,” Kurapika says. “I wouldn’t provoke him.”
Leorio stands to offer it his hand to sniff, and the treacherous creature rubs its face right into his palm.
“No?” Leorio asks, raising an eyebrow. He turns back to scratch the cat under his chin. “What’s your name, handsome?”
“He doesn’t have a name,” Kurapika says sourly.
“I don’t believe that for a second.” Leorio reaches for the tag around the cat’s neck and reads it, a slow grin taking over his face. “What a funny coincidence.”
“Your tea’s getting cold.”
Leorio sits back down. The easy warmth and familiarity fades quickly, replaced by a sudden awkwardness he has never felt around Kurapika. It hurts to feel it.
“So— how are you?”
“After all this time, is that what you want to ask me?”
“Yes,” Leorio says with a sigh. “You’ve got to know by now.”
“A lot has changed.”
“Yeah. Not everything, though.”
It’s only when Kurapika glances up from his tea that Leorio notices how shaken he looks.
“This doesn’t have to be— “ Leorio stops, shaking his head. “This can be easy. Old friends catching up.”
“I drag your heart through the mud and your first instinct is to put me at ease.”
“I survived,” Leorio shrugs. “I did pretty good for myself.”
For the first time all afternoon, Kurapika’s smile comes naturally. He nods.
“I know. I heard about your promotion at the hospital.”
“How?” Leorio squints. “I didn’t hear anything about you.”
Another man might be offended, but Kurapika just laughs. Of course he was impossible to track down. Of course he managed to stay as quiet and hidden as he liked. Of course he had made decisions for the both of them, whether Leorio liked them or not. This was how it always was with Kurapika. A bratty know-it-all. The love of Leorio’s life.
“You know,” Kurapika says slowly, “I don’t think I ever told you how handsome you are.”
It shocks Leorio into silence, catches him off guard. When they were together, Kurapika expressed himself with actions more often than with words. Leorio almost doesn’t know how to respond.
“I mean— I, uh, figured you were attracted to me.”
“I would hope so, but that isn’t what I mean. I used to think you were the most handsome man on earth.” Kurapika shrugs. “Now, all these years have passed, and I know it’s true.”
“You can’t… you can’t just say things like that.”
“There’s so much I didn’t say. I wish I had.”
“It wouldn’t have made a difference,” Leorio says.
Kurapika frowns, waiting.
“I mean— you would have left either way. Maybe it would have been harder if you were more open with me.”
“Do you think so?”
“No,” Leorio relents, setting his cup down. “Nothing would have made it worse than it was.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know. But I don’t really want to hear it.” Leorio isn’t angry— not anymore— but his tone is matter of fact. “It makes no difference how much or how often you’re sorry. I’m still the one that got left behind. And I’m not— I’m not as hurt or angry as I was back then, but it took me a long time to move forward with my life. I missed you every day.”
Kurapika nods, slowly.
“Did you move on, like I asked?”
“I don’t think you get to know the answer to that.”
Kurapika doesn’t say anything. He chews on his lower lip. He nods again.
“Maybe coming here was a mistake,” Leorio says, the realization dawning on him. He feels bad— about himself and about everything— and he feels guilty for the way it makes him want to act. “Maybe I’m still hurt and angry.”
“I can’t begrudge you that,” Kurapika says, putting his arms around himself. “I’ll walk you to the door.”
***
The next time they see each other, it’s Leorio knocking down Kurapika’s door in the middle of the night— waking him— maybe a little tipsy, wounded only in spirit.
“You asshole,” he says when Kurapika opens the door.
“That’s fair,” Kurapika says with a sigh, stepping aside to let Leorio in.
He looks, Leorio is pleased to note, disheveled and exhausted: hair unbrushed, wearing an oversized shirt that suddenly fills Leorio with uncontrollable rage. Who is giving Kurapika their oversized shirts to sleep in? Is it a man? Is he tall? Are they fucking?
“Who’s shirt is that?” Leorio blurts out, like someone who has moved on completely with his life.
Kurapika frowns. He looks down, as if noticing the shirt for the first time, and then gives Leorio a weird look.
“It’s yours.”
“Oh,” Leorio says. That’s fine then.
“Did you want something?” Kurapika asks with a yawn. “Or is this a social visit?”
“I wanted,” Leorio says, scowling, suddenly unsure what he’s doing here. “I wanted to yell at you.”
“You’ve been drinking.”
“I’m not wasted,” Leorio shrugs. “You can either wait for me to sober up or catch up.”
None of those options sound particularly good to Kurapika, who— after years of working and standing watch well into the morning— has finally started to catch up on sleep. He decides doing something is better than awkwardly waiting in silence however, and rummages through the kitchen cabinets while Leorio plops down on the sofa.
By the time he’s decided on what he feels like drinking at 2:45am, Leorio has fallen asleep.
He can’t help but smile. Leorio still sleeps as gracelessly as ever, mouth open, head thrown back. Not touching him feels like a punishment. Kurapika gathers the warmest blanket he has and wraps Leorio in it, careful not to wake him. His body is stiff with longing for a place he cannot name. It’s a memory and a taste. It’s afternoon light on his tongue.
Kurapika goes to bed. He doesn’t sleep for a long time.
In the morning: coffee. Leorio is fumbling around for a mug.
“How’d you sleep?” Kurapika asks, sliding into a stool at the kitchen bar.
“Like shit,” is the answer. Leorio rubs the back of his neck. “I’m too old to sleep sitting up.”
“Yes,” Kurapika says good-naturedly. “You are.”
“Hey—“
“Do you still want to yell?”
Leorio sighs and shakes his head. Does he? Yes. For hours and days. He wants to take Kurapika by the shoulders and shake him until all of his bad habits and unreliability fall out. But he can’t do that; and besides— it would require touching him.
“I came back once,” Kurapika says, pulling him back to earth.
“What?”
Kurapika nods. “It was— I don’t know— three years after. I wanted to see you. To apologize. To try again. I don’t know exactly; I didn’t have a plan and I thought it would come to me when I got there. But I saw you through the window, laughing with a woman I didn’t recognize. Your whole face was lit up. And I realized you would never laugh like that with me, because all I came with was baggage and death. I worried you.” He pauses, licking his lips. “I thought you deserved the chance to be with someone who didn’t.”
“You’re an idiot,” Leorio says quietly.
“Yes.”
“How many times have I told you not to make these stupid fucking self-sacrificing decisions for me based on what you think is good and right?”
Kurapika doesn’t say anything.
“No— I mean it. Why do you think you know everything better than everyone else? I was happy with you.”
“You were happy with other people too,” Kurapika points out.
“Yeah, what’s your point, Kurapika? You can spend your entire life looking for something better than the thing you have— over and over again— and eventually I bet you’ll find it. Maybe I’d be happier with a different job at a different hospital. Maybe I’d be happier if I didn’t take the Hunter exam. But I am happy with my work, and my hospital, and my license. And I was happy with you . I was afraid you’d leave and you did. What did all that fear do for me? You left anyway. And I was still happy in the time we had together, because I loved you. I love you. I’d do it all again.” He shrugs. “Maybe I’m the idiot.”
“I’ve always told you that,” Kurapika says, almost smiling.
“Well sometimes you’re right. Sometimes you’re wrong. You were wrong to leave.”
“You won’t let me apologize so I’m not sure what to say. Shall I grovel?”
Leorio snorts. “Like you’d ever.”
Kurapika looks at him for a brief, silent moment and then gets on one knee. He drops the other and places his hands on his lap. He bows his head. Leorio is too shocked to react.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I hurt you to protect myself. I tried to act like I was making the right decision for us both, but in reality I was just afraid. I couldn’t risk coming home after everything I did and having you look at me differently. So much was taken from me all those years ago and I wanted— I wanted to be the one to make the choice.”
“I loved you no matter what you did,” Leorio says, feeling dumbstruck.
Kurapika’s eyes fill with tears.
“You still have choices,” Leorio says.
Kurapika nods, not looking up.
“Don’t— “ Leorio says, fumbling around like an idiot before deciding to reach for Kurapika’s hand. “Stop. I don’t want you to do this. Stand up, please.”
“I don’t know where to go from here,” Kurapika says, still not moving.
Leorio squats so he’s at eye level with Kurapika. He puts a hand on Kurapika’s shoulder and another on his face, tilts his chin up until they’re looking at one another.
“Are you telling me you don’t know everything?”
Kurapika makes a noise at that— something between a laugh and a sob.
“Look— I know you think you wrecked my life or whatever, but you didn’t. I’m fine. I’ve been fine. It was hell for a while, but I got over it because I didn’t really have a choice either way. You don’t have to live with all the guilt in the world, is what I’m saying.”
And it’s just like him to be reassuring and kind when Kurapika is in the wrong. It’s just like him to put everybody else first. But looking at Leorio now— really looking at him— Kurapika realizes these aren’t just false platitudes. Leorio means it when he says he’s okay, that he’s been okay, and instead of feeling unimportant and small, Kurapika feels relief.
“Okay,” Kurapika says. “Alright.”
“Can we stand up now? My bones are like… crying.”
Kurapika laughs, wiping his eyes. “Yes,” he says, standing. He reaches out to Leorio.
Leorio takes his hand.