Chapter Text
“The person who lives in this house. What are you ?”
Gon blinked in surprise. The threatening aura was gone. The boy in front of him seemed totally normal, if mildly annoyed.
“I-I’m sorry. Noko…that girl, she told me that there was a beautiful girl trapped in the attic of the house. And she wanted me to come and see.”
The boy cocked his head. “A beautiful girl trapped in the attic? Oh, you meant Alluka? I guess she is pretty.” His eyes roved over Gon. Something in that gaze was predatory, his pupils just a bit too small and narrow, eyes a bit too bright in the dark. Gon had faced enough wild animals to know that a look like that was bad news. But he couldn’t outrun the boy either.
“You can go.” The boy waved his hand. “Just don’t let my parents or brothers see you. Then, you’d be in trouble.”
“Really?” Gon asked, despite his better judgement. “Can I come back?”
“W-why would you want to?” His expression was perplexed.
“It’s really cool out here! There’s so much space, and I can’t even imagine what kind of animals are out here. What’s your name? I’m Gon, and I’m twelve.”
“Killua.” He hesitated, glancing back at the house. “I’m twelve too. You should go.”
“Okay! Noko is probably waiting anyway! See ya, Killua!”
“Hey! Wait–”
But Gon was off, running through the dark field and climbing through the broken section of the wall.
***
Leorio was determined to make a good day of it. He would wake up early, study, and meet with Kurapika for lunch.
Unfortunately, he was feeling terribly fatigued that evening. Somehow, he was dozing off at eight o’clock.
He let himself drift in sleep in the warmth of the furs on his bed. They enveloped him in a deep, nearly maternal warmth.
Leorio’s dreams were strange. His glasses, broken on the floor. His hand, cut and bleeding from infinitesimal shards. A dark figure in the shape of a human, but with movements like a large, sleek cat. Lithe and sinewy and elegant.
A rap on the door awoke him many fitful hours later.
Kurapika, fully dressed in a loose white linen shirt and plain trousers. Except for the pale skin, he reminded Leorio of a simple farm boy on his day off. “I’ve come to see you. Will you come on a walk with me once you have dressed?” The young man’s expression did not change.
“Sure.” Leorio blinked. “What time is it?”
“Half past ten.” Kurapika raised a brow. “You slept late, doctor.”
“I guess I did. I apologize. Let me dress and we can go straight out.”
***
The forest around the Zoldyck manor was dense, with trees as old, if not older, than the hundred-year-old schloss . Bits of sun filtered through the leaves, dappling the ground with gold. Kurapika’s hair sparked when the sun hit it. His face was as neutral as the day they’d met. He seemed healthier now. His face had color in it, and he didn’t seem so desperate or hungry-eyed. Despite Kurapika’s surprising forthrightness, he was still reticent.
“It’s a pretty day, isn’t it?” Leorio tried. “Not too hot, even though it’s June."
Kurapika nodded. “How did you sleep?”
“Fine, I guess.” Leorio frowned. “I sleep deeply here, and I think strange things come in my dreams.”
“I’ve found that as well.” Kurapika brushed a strand of hair behind his ear. His fingers were
long and thin, with prominent joints. “I think the schoss inspires unnatural imagery in me. None of the others have the same problem. Perhaps because it is their ancestral home.”
“I guess so.” Leorio was taken aback. “The prevailing thought, medically speaking, is that dreams are only manifestations of the subconscious.”
Kurapika laughed. For a moment, they stayed in silence. Then, Kurapika stopped abruptly, and turned to him, his face almost pained. “I believe that we–for reasons I cannot explain– have a connection.”
A long pause. “A connection?”
“A connection.” Kurapika looked away from him. “I didn’t think so, at first, but we do now.”
“Why…do you think that?”
“I can’t tell you. But I am…grateful for what you’ve done for me.”
“As your doctor? I’ve hardly done anything except force you to eat and spend time with me.”
“I feel better, don’t I?”
Leorio supposed that was as good a reason to be grateful as any. Kurapika’s strange way of presenting it had thrown him off. Perhaps… he has an emotional sickness of some kind? Leorio had heard of doctors studying such things in other nations.
The two came upon a large brook cutting through the greenery. The clear water flowed lazily across the land. The rocks in its path were silky smooth from years of exposure to the stream.
“I might like to take a swim.” Kurapika said. “I did so frequently, at home.”
“Oh?” Leorio considered it. He’d swum in a stagnant river a few times before as a young teen–with Pietro. It had been relaxing in the summer, until other boys came along and then too many people were there.
“You can come in too, if you would like.” Kurapika removed his shirt and folded it by the wayside. Then, he took off his trousers as well, and finally, his underclothes. Leorio was, for some reason, embarrassed. Of course, it was completely normal to take clothes off to swim, yet his ambivalent relationship with Kurapika–made things odd. Without self-consciousness, the blond leapt into the water as sleekly as an otter.
Leorio removed his clothes and dipped a leg in.
“It’s cold!”
Kurapika came up from the water, his hair dripping. “It is a brook.”
“How can you just dive right in?” Leorio waded in up to his knees. The sensation of the chilly water running over his legs was less than pleasurable, even in summer.
“I used to swim in brooks all the time when I was home.” Kurapika’s voice was tinged with sadness. His blond hair clung to the nape of his neck. In the sunshine, he looked nearly wild, like a creature of the forest.
Leorio got all the way into the brook. He could feel the tips of his fingers and toes begin to adjust to the temperature. He could feel the rushing all around him. The only sound was the stream babbling away, and the birds crowing somewhere far away. Leorio was reminded of his childhood, wandering with Pietro. Some of their best days had been whe
n they hiked five miles out of the city and into the countryside. The summer they were twelve, before Pietro got sick and couldn’t leave his bed. Before Leorio had taken up work at the butcher shop and learned what blood and corpses looked like. Before the open casket funeral, when he’d learned what human corpses looked like.
“Are you alright?” Kurapika was squeezing the water from his hair.
“Fine. Completely fine.” Leorio pressed his lips together. Suddenly, the brook was no longer refreshing, just cold, and it was uncomfortable to be so naked near Kurapika, unself-conscious as the other was.
“Let’s go back. We’ve been gone long enough.”
“If you insist. They won’t notice. They’re still asleep.” Kurapika looked at Leorio with inquisitive eyes that Leorio couldn’t bear to gaze back at.