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Their reunion isn’t dramatic. It’s not like something out of a movie. No music swells, there aren’t any cherry blossoms falling gracefully into view. There is no rosy filter staining the edges of the scene. In fact, Leorio and Kurapika almost miss each other.
They pass one another as Leorio is leaving the Hunters Association headquarters, right as Kurapika is entering. The glaring early-summer sun makes Kurapika’s hair shine golden, catching Leorio’s eye. Ah, Kurapika’s hair was like that, he thinks.
Kurapika, on the other hand, picks up on the faintest smell of men’s cologne. It takes him back a million years. Leorio’s smell, huh…
Both of them frown and turn back for one last luxurious memory of the other until –
“Oh my God.” Is it really…?
“Oh!” It’s him.
They stop in their tracks and just look at the other for a while. Leorio has grown even taller since their last meeting, and is clean shaven, for a change. He still carries himself with that wide, confident gait that he’s always had. His eyes are still… Kurapika takes a second to bask in it. His eyes are still warm and homely, even widened in surprise as they are now. Kurapika is taller too, but not by much, and a great deal thinner.
“Long time no see, huh, Leorio?”
And that is apparently the wrong thing to say. Leorio’s shoulders immediately bristle and his nostrils flare. He’s frowning, too – whether he’ll start crying or yelling is anyone’s guess.
Leorio does neither. He clenches his jaw in an effort to remain calm and grits out a “Yeah. Long time no see,” before turning sharply and walking out past the automatic doors, where he is swallowed by sunlight.
A meeting of the Zodiacs is called a week later. Large red lettering on the invite had insisted that it was [URGENT] and [CONFIDENTIAL] which had caused a sense of unease to blossom in Kurapika.
The Zodiacs were some of the best Hunters alive. If this meeting is as urgent as it was made to seem, the problem must have become seriously troubling. That must be why Kurapika is so nervous. Maybe the country was on the verge of nuclear war. Or there could be a serious case of corruption within the Hunter Association. Or…
Or.
A Zodiac meeting meant seeing Leorio again. This alone troubles Kurapika, even more so thinking on their last meeting, when Leorio had spoken so brusquely and looked so agitated. Kurapika had tried to be as amicable as possible, even though he had wanted to wrap his arms as tightly as he could around Leorio as soon as he had seen him.
He had been so glad to see Leorio again. Was he a fool in thinking Leorio would be just as glad? Had Leorio realised what kind of person Kurapika was and been repulsed? How could Leorio change so much in such a short space of time? Kurapika could not make sense of it.
By the time the Zodiac meeting comes to pass, looking at Leorio is an effort in itself. Kurapika has been turning him over in his head so frequently that he feels as though he has encountered Leorio a thousand times with a thousand different conversations.
Both seats beside Leorio are occupied, and he is so engrossed in a set of papers set before him on the glass table that he doesn’t notice Kurapika sitting down opposite him. He must have not noticed. That has to be the reason he doesn’t acknowledge Kurapika’s existence whatsoever.
Ging almost dances through the door five minutes after Pariston has formally begun the meeting, but Kurapika doesn’t care. He pays very little mind to what’s going on in the room. His eyes keeps flitting back to Leorio when he makes the tiniest of movements – wiggling his pen between his fingers, scratching his freshly shaven cheek, rubbing his nose where his glasses rest and leave a mark. Leorio’s image is sharp and detailed where the rest of Kurapika’s surroundings are blurry, unfocused.
One glance. That’s all he needs. He just needs Leorio to look his way once, to communicate with just his eyes that he needs to talk to him. Leorio, however, keeps his gaze firmly trained on either Pariston or his papers. No matter. Kurapika will just have to grab Leorio on his way out.
When Pariston wraps the meeting up, Kurapika almost launches himself across the table. “Leorio, can we t—”
He is interrupted by Leorio’s pager chirping. “Sorry,” Leorio grumbles, his body half turned away as he rises. “I have to go.”
Kurapika huffs quickly. “It’s important. I need—”
“It’s not always about what you need,” Leorio snaps, almost snarling.
His response catches both men off-guard. Kurapika tries to form a response, but he is cut off again.
“I have to go,” Leorio repeats, and nearly runs out the door.
Kurapika slumps back into his chair, confused. Cheadle, who has unintentionally overheard the exchange, stares at Kurapika before shaking her head.
“Whatever you did, you had better apologise soon,” she says quietly. “Looks like that’s the only way you’ll fix it, if he’s that upset.” With that, she shuffles out into the hall.
He has envisioned this conversation thousands of times, but he hasn’t once imagined a scenario where Leorio is openly angry at him. He has gotten frustrated at him before, sure, but that was different. That was a brief annoyance that passed as quickly as it appeared. Leorio’s face just now… Kurapika will never forget it. His words have been said in anger, but he had worn a hurt expression, as if something important to him had been taken away.
It’s all so confusing. He isn’t used to seeing Leorio so vulnerable. What has Kurapika done to warrant such a reaction? Why is Leorio taking out his bad mood on him? How childish. Kurapika will not let the matter rest here.
The Zodiac mission turns out to be little more than a casual narcotics gig. There’s an underground drug ring in the city that’s being sponsored by some world leaders – including the emperor of Kakin, which Kurapika knows will cause quite a bit of controversy in the near-future. He and Leorio are ordered to remain in a stakeout in a nearby hotel and report any suspicious activity.
“Man,” Leorio huffs in a scratchy voice, sighing out a cloud of cigarette smoke. “I never thought I’d have to do grunt work again after getting my license.”
Kurapika speaks without looking at Leorio, keeping his gaze firmly trained on the eyepiece of the telescope stationed between the blinds. “Each part of the operation has its own importance. If one par, no matter how small, malfunctions, everything disintegrates,” he murmurs.
“Never said it wasn’t important.” Leorio’s tone is so gratingly childish it sends a spike of irritation up Kurapika’s spine. But it’s okay, because it’s gone as soon as he sighs.
The conversation continues like this for a couple of hours, with Kurapika’s impersonal commentary being rebutted with Leorio’s pointed grumbles. Kurapika’s unsure what’s causing this mood in his partner – a bad day? A break-up? The same unnamed thing that made him snap at the Zodiac meeting? Kurapika coils up inside, waiting to strike at Leorio’s next quip.
“Be nice to get some food up here. I’m fucking starving.”
Okay, not so bad. Kurapika can work with this. He sits up for the first time in hours and turns in his seat. His neck is grateful for the rest. “If you’d like, we could order some room service. I’m sure it would still be available at this hour.”
“I want a lobster roll,” Leorio states firmly. He’s lying on his back on one of the two single beds in the room, hands behind his head, staring angrily at the ceiling.
“A what?”
“A lobster roll.”
“What’s a lobster?”
Leorio frowns frustratedly. “Are you kidding me? You don’t know what a lobster is?”
Kurapika grits his teeth but lets it go. “I’ll remind you that the Hunter language isn’t my native tongue.”
“Whatever,” Leorio says, sucking his cheek. “It’s, like, a red shellfish with big claws. Its meat is expensive. There’s this new thing where they put it in a bread roll and put some sauce on it.”
Kurapika returns to his watchful stance. “Well, if it’s expensive then it’ll have to wait until the mission is over. We can’t get into the habit of wasting the Association’s money on inconsequential luxuries.”
“If I want a lobster roll, I’ll get a lobster roll. I’ll fucking pay for it myself, I don’t care.”
So he’s really going to get this riled up over some shellfish bread roll… “What’s your problem? You’ve been acting weird all night.” And maybe a tiny bit of irritation slips into Kurapika’s words. Just a tiny bit.
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing if it’s turning you into a petulant child.”
“That’s pretty rich coming from you,” Leorio growls.
“Excuse me?” Kurapika clenches and unclenches his hands to try and calm himself.
Leorio’s breathing almost heavily, like he’s just about to launch himself into the valley of everything unsaid. He holds himself back at the last minute. “Forget it, you wouldn’t understand. I want expensive food because I never had it growing up, we couldn’t afford it. But now I can.”
“You’re not the only one who had a hard childhood, Leorio. Get over it.”
Oh fuck. Kurapika freezes as soon as he hears himself. Even by his standards, that’s an awful thing to say. He spins around and says, “Leorio, I’m so sorr—” but he’s cut off in shock.
Leorio has risen to a seated position on the bed and he’s staring through Kurapika. His beautiful Leorio has tears in his eyes like he’s just been punched in the gut. His breaths are tiny and sharp and short. Kurapika can almost feel the little stabs of pain he knows must be coursing through Leorio’s veins this minute. “Fuck you.”
“That’s not what I meant—”
Leorio shoots up and nears Kurapika until he’s looming over him. “So what did you mean?!” he yells.
“We’re Hunters, Leorio. We don’t get to have nice things.”
“Says who? You? That’s bullshit.” He jerkily shifts to the edge of the bed and tries to light a cigarette, but his hands are shaking too much for the flame to catch. “Just because you’ve decided to take the martyr route and suffer for the rest of your life doesn’t mean that the rest of us have to.”
Kurapika’s eyes take on a burning quality. If Leorio wants a fight, then he’ll get one. “And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?” He stands and whirls on Leorio, his shoulders trembling in anger. “When did this become about me?”
“It means that while you were off on your stupid, self-destructive little hero’s journey,” Leorio snarls, throwing his lighter and cigarette box onto the bedside table, “The rest of us – the ones who care about you – were left to pick up the pieces!”
Kurapika falls quiet. His shoulders stop trembling. He just stares.
“Oh, don’t tell me you didn’t see me and Melody cleaning up after you. God, Kurapika, you’re the smartest person I know but you can be really fucking dense sometimes.” Leorio sighs. His shoulders sag. “I called you. I called you every day. Every single day, Kurapika.” His voice is absent of emotion as he stares at a patch of carpet just in front of him. “You never answered, not even once, but I kept calling you. I still had hope that maybe one day you’d think of me, that you’d miss me, and one fine morning – ”
Leorio stops himself. There is a deep and ragged fissure running down his torso, inside, he can feel it throbbing. The pain flares with every memory, every the number you have dialled is unavailable.
“Why?” he asks in the dark.
Kurapika is slow to answer, as if he knew this question was coming. “You know why I left. I had to find my clan’s eyes, give them a proper burial.”
“No. I mean, why didn’t you pick up? I must have called you a million times, and you didn’t pick up once.” Anger begins to creep into his tone.
“I knew you would have questions—”
“Of course I did! We all did!” Leorio’s voice slowly climbs higher and higher into hysteria. “God, do you have any idea how worried… we were? You just disappeared!”
“I’m sorr—” Kurapika huffs through his nose when he is interrupted once more.
“Shut up,” Leorio snaps. “Don’t you dare try and apologise to me. Don’t insult me like that.”
“Leorio, you have to believe me when I say it was too dangerous.”
“Too dangerous?” Leorio’s voice breaks in the change of tone. “I’m a Hunter too, Kurapika! We went through the Exam together. We got our license together. We got angry as hell at that ninja dude who beat up Gon together. How can you still think it’s too dangerous for me? How can that still not be enough for you?”
The question isn’t rhetorical. Leorio wants an answer. Something that will either prove him right, or break his heart. Anything other than this deafening silence. Kurapika, unfortunately, says nothing.
Leorio’s voice is low, weary. “If you were really sorry, you would have picked up.”
“When Gon and Killua called, I tried to tell them—”
“When Gon and Killua called?! Oh good, it’s just me you had a problem with, then.” Leorio's eyes are full with angry tears when he says, “Fuck this. I’m going out. Don't follow me.” He sits up and starts pulling on his shoes. “Don't call me either. Or do. It won’t matter because I won’t pick up either way. Let’s see how you like it.”
Kurapika snarls as he takes a few defiant steps forward while Leorio stalks toward the door. “Then I’ll wait outside the door until you come back!”
“You’ll be a long time waiting, then,” Leorio grumbles as he jerkily shrugs into his suit jacket.
“I don’t care! I’ll wait the whole night, the whole week! If I never sleep again, I’ll wait as long as I have to so we can work out this thing between us.”
“Oh, so now you want to work things out…” Leorio snarls.
Kurapika has had enough of Leorio’s petulant attitude. “Stop being so selfish.”
Leorio cackles like a madman and turns on his heel. “Let it never be said that you're not brave, Kurapika. You have some nerve calling me selfish after everything you've put me through. God, I could punch you right now.”
“So do it.”
A beat of silence. “What?”
“Punch me. Like you said, I deserve it.”
Leorio frowns. “Do you ever quit with that self-sacrificing shit?! I'm not gonna punch you, I just…”
“You just hate me now.”
Leorio looks at Kurapika with an expression that’s somewhere between anger and confusion. “I wish I hated you,” he says quietly.
Kurapika frowns. “Really? Because I hate me a lot right now. I've got a long list of things I've done that I'm not proud of.” He pauses. “Do you know what's at the top of the list?”
Leorio snorts. “I don’t c—”
“Hurting you.” Leorio exhales sharply through his nose again, a ghost of a laugh, but Kurapika continues. “Hurting you was the most foolish thing I've ever done.”
“Then why didn’t you call?!” he almost screams. “Why didn’t you contact me?! God, I must have spent years hearing that fucking dial tone!”
“I never asked you do that!” Kurapika shouts back. “I never put you under any obligation to check up on me, so quit blaming me for that, you prick!”
“Why couldn’t you take five fucking seconds out of your day to tell me you were alive!”
“Why didn’t you stop calling when you realised I wasn’t answering!”
“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, GOD DAMMIT!”
The pregnant silence that falls is a stark contrast to the previous yelling. Both men are breathing hard.
“You—” Kurapika starts, but he doesn’t get very far.
“YEP! THAT’S RIGHT! My secret’s out! That’s why I called you so much. I’m in love with you, Kurapika. And when you love someone, you never give up! Never! And I never gave up on you, but it looks like you sure as shit did!”
Leorio takes a second to register Kurapika’s shock. “Go ahead. Laugh. I would. It’s funny. I’m in love with someone who only thinks of me as an inconvenience at best. Someone who NEVER FUCKING PICKED UP THE PHONE!”
A long silence.
“You never…” Leorio huffs as he starts to cry. “You never picked up. Not once.”
His face goes white as his mind catches up with itself. “I…” He swallows thickly and rubs at his cheeks. “I have to go.” He quickly gathers his things and leaves Kurapika in the crackling silence left behind.
Leorio returns after a few minutes. Wait, no, a few hours. Forty minutes, maybe? Kurapika isn’t sure. He spends all of Leorio’s absence planted in front of the telescope, watching the road below for any gang members. He’s not sure how much time passes, but it’s enough to cause an ache to build up in his shoulders. He doesn’t move when the door to the room clicks open, or when the bathroom door locks shut, or when the shower starts hissing.
Leorio just randomly decides to take a shower right before it’s his turn on the telescope… Typical. Well, Kurapika certainly doesn’t feel like doing that prick any favours. He moves over to the small writing desk opposite the beds and begins documenting what he saw throughout the day in a small leather notebook. Some children playing. An old couple taking a walk, holding hands. A pizza delivery guy on a scooter. For a blissful quarter of an hour, the only sound is Kurapika’s pen scratching the page. He doesn’t move when the bathroom door unlocks, or when Leorio throws the chair by the telescope out onto the tiny balcony beside a small metal table with an ashtray. Kurapika is just about to give that asshole a piece of his mind when his phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s Cheadle.
“Piyon and Kanzai took out the main leaders of the drug ring, and they seem ready to talk. Stand down for now.” Cheadle’s voice is calm and controlled. “Your station is apparently one of the ring’s most frequented spots so I’d like you and Leorio to stay one more night, just to be sure.”
Shit. “That’s fine.” Kurapika had hoped for a swift exit. “We’ll leave in the morning.”
“Thanks, Kurapika. And tell Leorio thanks too.”
“Will do.”
The fact of the matter is that Kurapika would rather knock himself out with a paperweight than have to interact with Leorio again when they’re both so keyed up.
Kurapika approaches Leorio on the balcony silently. If Leorio notices him, he says nothing. He just keeps staring out at the horizon, his gaze a flatline. Kurapika repeats Cheadle’s message, but Leorio doesn’t react. He switches between rolling a cigarette smoothly between his fingers, and bringing it to his lips before sighing out the smoke like an afterthought.
Kurapika swallows and opens his mouth, but Leorio speaks then. “Don’t,” he says. “Don’t say anything. I don’t want to talk.” He takes a drag. “Talking never seems to get us anywhere.”
Kurapika is fully aware that Leorio is trying to push him away. He can’t deal with the pain I keep putting him through, so he’s distancing himself from me. The thought stings, but not enough to dissuade Kurapika. He takes a few steps forward and places a small rectangular piece of paper, folded twice, on the small glass table beside Leorio. He’ll have to notice it next time he flicks his cigarette above the ash tray.
And notice it he does. His pinky finger graces a curled corner of the paper and he stares at it for a second. Without lifting his gaze, he murmurs, “This better not be some mushy letter telling me your feelings or whatever. I won’t fall for dirty tricks like that anymore.”
Does he really have that little faith in me?
“It’s a… a peace offering, I guess. A late birthday gift, at the very least,” Kurapika manages.
Leorio sits up and turns toward the table as he unfolds the paper, muttering something about why the fuck I’m doing this, but when he turns the paper around, he freezes. His eyes lose the harsh fury they had held back only moments prior. He takes a few deep breaths as he studies the photograph in his hands, his gaze darting over every inch of the image – two young boys standing side by side, arms around each other. Their smiles were huge, bright, warm.
Kurapika answers a question he knows Leorio is turning over in his mind. “I went on a small mission a few months back. Nothing big, just getting rid of a band of thugs that were terrorising a small village out east. I made friends with one of the women who lived there – she patched me up after some… encounters with the thugs. We got talking one day and she told me about her son, who passed away some years ago. She showed me the only picture she had of him. When the thugs were finally gone, I asked for that picture as payment. I needed to get something to make up for my absence.”
Leorio remains silent, so Kurapika continues. “I never stopped thinking about you, Leorio,” he whispers. “But I couldn’t just show up in your life again without having something to offer you, whether that was a better version of myself, or something you would treasure.”
Leorio is still frozen in place, but now he has unshed tears in his eyes. “I remember that day,” he says, almost to himself. “A travelling showman passed through town and showed us how to use a camera. We had never seen anything like it before. Pietro said he wanted us to take a picture together so that we could…” A deep breath. A heavy sigh. “…so we could recreate it when we got older.” Leorio rubs his eyes roughly with the heel of his hands, his cigarette smoke twisting and warping with the movement. He looks up. “You met Pietro’s mom.”
“I did.”
“How is she?”
“She’s fine,” Kurapika murmurs.
Leorio stands up abruptly. “I hope you don’t think that this fixes everything. You can’t gift me into forgiving you. I’m not a child.”
“I know. I’m not trying to fix everything all at once. All I want is a start to the conversation.”
“Fine.” Leorio crushes his cigarette butt in the ash tray. “Let’s talk.”
Kurapika doesn’t open his eyes first. He’s so tired that he suspects that opening his eyes will be one of the last things he does. What he does first is feel the sharp, unrelenting pain along the right side of his body. He clenches his jaw and tries not to groan. The next thing he feels is bandages clinging to the surface of his skin – along his left forearm, just below his ribcage. Stretching out his palms, Kurapika feels soft cotton underneath. A blanket? A bed? Ah, I’m probably in a hospital.
Someone starts humming. His mind reels through the murky remnants of the last things he had seen before losing consciousness – a gang of huge, muscular men driving towards the horizon on monstrous, gurgling motorcycles. Yes, that’s right. He had gotten into a fight with those thugs. That explains the pain. Where had those men gone? Why did—
There are no hospitals in the outskirts of Swaldani. That’s what Kurapika had been told before starting this mission. Cold panic starts to settle in his chest as he strains to open his eyes.
He finds himself in bed under an orange blanket in a small, warmly lit room. The walls are covered in a faded yellow wallpaper with tiny pink flowers on it. The bed has been pushed to the wall farthest from the door, just below a window which was now closed, curtains drawn. At the foot of the bed stands a small vanity.
Kurapika is alone. Who’s humming?
Just then, the door swings open slowly and a head peeks through. “Ah! Yannis, he’s awake!” a feminine voice called out. A woman enters the room shortly after and closes the door behind her. She is of average height and slender build, wearing a green button-down shirt dress and a white apron at her waist. Her greying hair has been piled up into a bun on top of her head and she looks at Kurapika with a kind smile and big, brown eyes. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” she says playfully.
“Where am I?” Kurapika tries to sit up, but decides against it when his right side screams at him to not move ever again.
“You’re with friends, don’t worry. I’m Mira. I live in this village with my husband, Yannis. I found you badly injured in an alley and brought you back here. Your wounds were kind of scary to look at, but nothing serious. I did what I could with my limited medical knowledge.”
The back of Kurapika’s neck stings with wariness, but he won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. “Thank you for helping me,” he says. “How long have I been out?”
“Almost a whole day. You’re probably hungry, food’s almost ready.”
After an uncomfortably silent meal – in which Mira had tried to make light conversation while Yannis stayed completely silent – Kurapika expresses his intent to recompense Mira for her trouble.
“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” she says, waving her hand at the notion. “I didn’t do it for money. I did it because… well, if I had been left in that kind of state, I’d want someone to help me.”
Kurapika half-smiles. “If only there were more people like you, Mira.”
“Now now, Kurapika, you shouldn’t flirt with a married woman,” she says before winking. Behind her, Yannis begins washing the dishes.
Kurapika decides it would be unwise to go back out on patrol again given the state he’s in, and Mira encourages him to get more rest. When he wakes after a long and dreary sleep, he hears Mira singing outside the door. Her voice is clear and lovely – it’s clear she has been trained. A little while later, he hears Mira creak the door open and turns towards her.
“Ah, good. You’re awake. I’ve brought you some tea,” she says softly, kindly. Kurapika thanks her and awkwardly tries to sit up against a pillow, but winces when he puts pressure on his elbow.
“Oh, my dear, let me help you!” Mira sets the two steaming mugs on the bedside table beside Kurapika and gently holds his back as he straightens.
“There, now,” she sighs, carefully handing him a mug. She stares at Kurapika amusedly as a slow smile spreads across his face.
“What has you so smiley when you’re all banged up?” she asks, holding her mug close to her face.
“Ah, nothing,” Kurapika answers, blushing at his sudden show of emotion.
“You can tell me, I won’t go snitching to anyone. And even if I did, no-one would pay much heed to an old woman like me.”
“It’s just…” he starts but can’t quite seem to get the words out. “You taking care of me… the tea… it reminds me of how my mother used to take care of me.”
Mira falls still. She looks at Kurapika blankly. “It’s not something you can forget so easily.” All she says after a moment’s silence is, “Used to.”
Kurapika’s shoulders stiffen and he says, “She died when I was young. It’s nice to remember her sometimes though.”
“You still are young, Kurapika,” she says leaning forward slightly. “I’m sorry you went through that.”
“It was a long time ago,” he lies.
“I certainly hope you have someone taking care of you,” she warns in a motherly tone. “You can’t be much older than eighteen.”
“I do,” Kurapika says, without thinking. He imagines brown eyes, broad shoulders, a crooked toothy grin, a booming voice.
“Ah, let me guess, a girlfriend perhaps?” Mira asks slyly, smiling as she takes another sip from her mug.
Kurapika’s throat closes over momentarily – he hates having to do this. He has to do it with everyone he meets. He has to constantly weigh up the decision in his mind, examine the other person’s personality for bigotry. He has no energy to pretend anymore. “Women aren’t my type.”
Mira’s eyes widen and she covers her mouth with her hand in a small motion. “Oh, I’m sorry for assuming. In any case, I hope he’s taking care of you, whoever he is.”
Internally, Kurapika lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank you for helping me.” His gaze turns to the little wooden bedside table where there rests a photo frame with a picture of what Kurapika assumes is Mira and her family – a beautiful young woman, a sturdy looking man and two beaming young boys. “You have a beautiful family. Are those your sons?”
Mira’s smile is tight. “The one on the right is, yes. The one on the left was his best friend.”
“Was? Did they fall out?”
Mira wrings her hands nervously and says, “No. My son died.”
Kurapika’s stomach sinks. “I’m so sorry, Mira, if I had known…” She shakes her head slowly.
He finds himself staring at the other boy, and he feels like he’s seen him somewhere before. No. It couldn’t be.
But it is. There’s no mistaking that smile. Kurapika could pick out that smile anywhere – in a crowd, a hundred miles away, in a hundred years’ time, he’d know it. It is Leorio. Adorable ten-year-old Leorio. Kurapika feels a wave of affection overcome him realising what his connection to this woman is. She has seen his Leorio’s childhood from start to finish. What are the odds of Kurapika ending up with this woman in this house in this village in this moment? The world is a funny place.
“He’s adorable,” Kurapika says. “Your son, I mean,” he adds nervously.
Mira smiles despite herself. “I’ve always thought so. He had his father’s face.” She touches the surface of the photograph gently with her fingertips.
“You’d better get home to that man of yours. I’m going to make sure of it. Don’t you dare keep him waiting any longer than he absolutely has to. That’s what’s worst, the endless waiting.”
Kurapika hums. “I fear I’ve made him wait too long already.”
“If he really loves you, he won’t mind. As long as you go back at some point.”
“I heard you singing,” Kurapika blurts out. “You have a beautiful voice. Were you trained?”
Mira’s face lights up at that. “Yes, I was! I took lessons and even got a scholarship to a music academy. I specialised in opera.” She wrings her hands in her lap nervously. “I used to be a professional singer… but I quit.”
“Why?”
Mira’s shoulders sag. “I sing what I feel. When I feel happy, I sing something happy. When I’m sad, I sing something sad. After Pietro died… it was like every piece of music died with him. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to sing anymore, I just couldn’t. No piece of music could fit what I was feeling. Sad songs weren’t sad enough. Or maybe it was that I wasn’t feeling anything at all anymore. I didn’t sing at all for years. I think I’m starting to get it back now, though.”
“I’m glad,” Kurapika whispered, resting his hand on Mira’s. “Even just hearing you sing made me feel a little better.”
She sniffs. “Enough of that, now. Tell me about this man of yours. Is he handsome? Rich?”
Kurapika feels himself flush slightly. “I’m probably not allowed to say, but… he’s a doctor. And I think he’s from somewhere near here.”
“Very good, Kurapika.” Mira nods sagely. “Got yourself a nice man with a well-paid job and good career prospects.”
“Sounds like you like him more than I do. Shall I put you two in contact?”
“Oh, please do. I’m in desperate need of some more jewels,” Mira chuckles. Then, “You love him.”
Kurapika is sure he has gone red this time. “I… I’m not sure I know how.”
“Yet here you are, gossiping with an old woman about him.” Mira’s smile causes well-worn wrinkles to appear at the corners of her mouth and eyes. “Remember, Kurapika, there are as many ways to express love as there are people. Languages of love, they’re called. Life is short… so short. Be with him while you can.” Mira’s voice is distant. With that, she leaves Kurapika to rest, but all he does is stare at the wall, eyes wide open. He wonders if Leorio is thinking about him too.
Leorio is lying in bed with the covers thrown haphazardly around the bed. He’s staring at the blank off-white ceiling dazily while his alarm blares beside his head. There it goes.
Brrrrring.
Brrrrring.
It’s been going off for at least five minutes now. He’s too tired to turn it off. His limbs are too heavy. He’d be content to just lie there all day long, staring at the ceiling, breathing evenly, listening to the crack and creak of the pipes in the walls.
Leorio scratches an imaginary itch on his tummy, just where a sunbeam catches an exposed patch of skin at his hip, and the sound is too loud for his ears. His head lolls to the side with its weight, leaning towards the open window on his left. In the distance, there are car engines and horns, maybe even a bit of music if he concentrates hard enough. He might be imagining it though.
This could be nice, he thinks. If I weren’t so pissed off right now, I’d probably enjoy this.
Leorio swings himself up and over, sitting slouched forward on his bed, legs slightly bent. He’s mad because it’s too bright out. No, he’s not. He’s mad because the breeze is too cold. Because he’s tired. Because he’s restless. He hates his classes. Everything is expensive. His sock is the wrong way round on his foot.
That’s not it. He knows that’s not it. He knows what’s really throwing him off. It’s been a year and he hasn’t heard a word from Kurapika. Three hundred and sixty-five days of silence.
He checks his phone every day, waiting for some kind of message from him. A call, a text, anything. Anything to let him know how he’s doing. What he’s doing. If he’s doing anything at all. Every day he brings up Kurapika’s contact details, and every day he calls him. Every day the only answer he gets is Kurapika’s voicemail.
Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he grabs his beetle phone and tries again. He hits the call button and presses the phone to his ear, hearing the familiar crackle of a call connecting. It’s ringing.
God, this is embarrassing. Calling someone every day like this even though it’s been a year and they haven’t answered him once.
It’s still ringing.
He won’t answer. He never does.
Still ringing.
Give it up already, you’re embarrassing yourself.
Still ringing.
How did you even get into this mess, you idiot? Calling someone who won’t pick up.
Still ringing.
Falling in love with someone…
Still ringing.
… who obviously doesn’t care about you.
“The number you’ve dialled is unavailable right now. Please leave a message aft – ”
It takes some time, but Kurapika manages to successfully disband the circle of thugs and send them packing. They had wanted to terrorise the villagers into giving them all their valuables, but with Kurapika around, it became more effort than it was worth.
In the process, Mira had patched him up more than a few times, and the pair had established a warm, if slightly odd, friendship. Kurapika decides to stay for one more night before heading back to the city, and buys an expensive box of the finest spiced chamomile tea to thank Mira for everything. They’re both two cups in when Mira asks Kurapika what he’ll do next now that his mission is complete.
“This village is so quiet, so peaceful… I wouldn’t mind staying here forever,” he said. Yes, that was exactly what Kurapika needed, what he had never really had. Peace and quiet.
“You have to go back to your partner someday,” Mira reminds him.
His face falls instantly. “I can’t go back to him,” Kurapika confesses.
“Why not?” Mrs Fortuona shoots back.
“I’ve been through too much. It wouldn’t be fair to start a relationship with him, knowing how much effort it would be.”
Mrs Fortuona snorts. “All relationships are effort, Kurapika. Anyone who says differently is immature. Or delusional.”
“But I’m too much effort. I couldn’t possibly burden him with—”
“With what? Your fears? Your loss? Your dreams? Honey, that’s what people do in a relationship. They share each other’s highs and lows. Gold and coal in equal measure.” She takes a sip from her mug.
Kurapika ponders that for a moment. “So how do I know which is the right decision?”
She snorts again. “If there was some way of knowing that for sure, life would be a lot easier. But it would also be a lot more boring.”
He shakes his head. “Putting that aside, I’m aimless right now.” He sighs, his ribs creaking with the effort. “I had a goal once. It took up my entire life. Everything I did was to achieve that one thing.”
“And?”
Kurapika stares at his reflection in his tea. “And I got it.” It’s wobbly, constantly changing shape. “I got exactly what I wanted.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“I have nothing now. No goal. No motivation. No home. Nothing.” A sip.
“Those things aren’t found, chicken. They are made. You have a Hunter license, which means you have a steady flow of work and money. You get to travel. Don’t waste your youth waiting for these things to meet you. Opportunity knocks, but it doesn’t break your door down.”
Kurapika stares at his reflection for a long time as it settles. “I think… I think I want to go back and see him again. I want to give us a shot.”
Mira smiles like she knows all the secrets of the universe. “Leorio will be glad to see you.”
Kurapika snaps his head up to look at her. “How did you know it was him?”
“You said he was a doctor, and that he was from around here. How many people do you think grow up around these parts and go on to medical school? Not many, let me tell you.” She rests her chin on her hand. “He was friends with my Pietro, y’know.”
“I knew. He told me about him. Well, he told everyone. Pietro is the reason Leorio became a Hunter, did you know that?”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, Leorio claims to have become a Hunter solely for the monetary gain, but his real motivation is to provide medical help to anyone who needs it, for free. How amazing is that?” Kurapika thinks back fondly on the ship, the Hunter Exam, the Zoldyck estate… everything. Then he launches into a spirited retelling of how he met and got to know Leorio. Meanwhile, Mira smiles sadly and laughs along at all the right parts.
Finally, when Kurapika appears to take a pause – “He did that for my Pietro?”
Kurapika sighs. “Pietro’s death affected Leorio far more than he lets on. I worry about him.”
“What do you worry about?”
“I worry that Leorio won’t ever forgive himself. I worry that part of him is trapped in the past.”
“Aren’t we all?”
“Oh,” he says. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“Neither did I. We’re all connected to our past. It’s made us who we are.”
“I just don’t want him to torture himself unnecessarily.”
“Whether he does that or not is not something you can prevent. That’s an internal conflict, you aren’t called there.”
“I want to ask you something,” Kurapika says, “But I’m afraid I’ll hurt you by asking.”
Mrs Fortuona looks at him silently with kind, wearied eyes.
“How did you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Stay with your husband after your son died.” The question causes Mrs Fortuona to freeze for a split second before she places her cup on the saucer she holds, head bowed. “Plenty of couples divorce after losing a child due to the immense strain it puts on their relationship.”
Mira looks through Kurapika for a long time. “We could have split up. We almost did. Losing Pietro was the hardest thing we’ve ever gone through. We endured what no parent should ever have to endure, and we each went through that incredible pain knowing that the other was suffering just as much. It was… all-encompassing.” She pauses for a second and stares down at her mug. “But we made a promise to each other when we married. For better or for worse. ‘Til death do us part. And we fought. We fought so hard to keep our heads above water, to keep living our lives in the aftermath.”
Almost certainly without realising, Mira’s face had turned stoney, distant. “I was waiting for a long time, waiting for the finish line of grieving to arrive. I thought there would be a day when I’d wake up and find that I had moved on from Pietro’s death and start a new phase in my life.” She stopped and looked at Kurapika. “How much of our lives is considered the aftermath of some traumatic event? How long do we spend waiting for the pain to pass? There is no definitive answer to that. There is no predestined waiting period for loss. Kurapika, we have to find the courage to stop punishing ourselves for what happens to us. At some point, we have to draw the line where the aftermath ends and life begins again.”
Leorio and Kurapika sit cross-legged opposite each other on the double bed in their hotel room. It’s clear from the get-go that no-one is leaving until this unspoken thing between them is clarified.
Kurapika decides to speak first. “You look tired.”
“I am. I’ve been tired a long time.”
“Why?”
“Work. Class. Assignments. Lab reports,” he begins. More quietly, he adds, “I’m tired of waiting for everyone to decide that I’m worth their time. I’m tired of worrying about people who clearly don’t worry about me.”
“Leorio, do you really think I don’t worry about you?” Kurapika asks.
“I know you don’t worry about me. You wanna know how I know? Because when someone worries about someone else, they show it. They check in on the other person every now and then to see if they’re alright. They call.”
Kurapika does his best not to huff impatiently. “No matter what you say, I knew involving you in what I was going through was the wrong thing to do.”
“And we’re back to this bullshit, Kurapika!” Leorio throws up his hands in frustration. “I knew talking would do nothing. I knew we’d end up right back where we started.”
Kurapika sniffs annoyedly. “Here’s a question for you, Leorio, since you seem to enjoy talking about phone calls so much. Did you ever stop to think about why I wasn’t picking up? That I might have been in danger? That someone might have been recording my calls to try and harm my loved ones? That you might have been putting me in harm’s way by calling all the time?”
Leorio falls silent at that.
“Half the time I was in a mausoleum with my clanmates, Leorio. Would you pick up the phone at a family member’s grave? You knew this was something I had to do, and you knew I had to do it alone. Yet you kept inserting yourself where you didn’t belong.”
“What, are you trying to say I don’t belong in your private life?”
“No. What I’m trying to say is that finding my clanmates’ eyes and guiding them to an eternal place of rest was a deeply personal and spiritual experience unique to my race. Even if you had been there, you would have felt too removed to actually feel present. I thought you would understand that.”
Leorio’s voice is calmer, softer now. “I didn’t know that. I really didn’t. I’m sorry.”
“Can I ask something? Why did you keep calling even though you got no answer?”
The corner of Leorio’s mouth quirks, but quickly falls again. “Everyone else said I was crazy, calling a number that wouldn’t pick up. I just couldn’t stop myself. I kept thinking that this time would definitely be the time you’d pick up. I just… I couldn’t accept the idea that you were gone, that I’d never see you again. I didn’t mind looking stupid if I could just have you in my life again.”
“Leorio…”
“I missed you so much, Kurapika. It hit me hardest at the most random times. I’d see something funny on TV and want to tell you about it. I’d have questions on all sorts of things and I’d think to myself, Kurapika would probably know the answer. And then it was like a huge bell clanging in my head, the fact that I couldn’t reach you and that I probably would never be able to.”
A wave of crushing guilt crests over Kurapika. “I left suddenly, didn’t I. You must have been so worried about me.”
The pair run out of things to say. Kurapika thinks, It’s like we’ve been speaking different languages, all this time.
Remember, Kurapika, there are as many ways to express love as there are people…
“Oh!” It falls on Kurapika like a ton of bricks. Leorio loves me.
“What is it?”
“I get it now,” Kurapika states airily.
“Get what?”
“You calling me was your language of love. It was your way of showing that you were willing to do something silly to prove that you were thinking of me, and that you weren’t going to give up.”
He rubs the back of his head. “I guess it was. I had to know you were okay.”
“And my language of love was keeping you out of my affairs because I didn’t want to burden you with my problems. And we both ended up hurting each other because I made you feel isolated and abandoned, while I felt you were overbearing and intrusive on what was a private experience.”
“We thought we were doing the right thing, but we couldn’t have been more wrong,” Leorio adds sadly.
“Don’t say that. Our hearts were in the right place.”
“Yeah, they were just… beating slightly out of sync.”
Kurapika smiles. “Just a tad. But we can fall in step again, can’t we?”
Leorio tries to smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I can’t do this, Kurapika. I can’t do this… abstract flirting thing. I love you, and I don’t love by halves. I’m either zero per cent or one hundred per cent. I want to be one hundred with you, but only if you are too.”
Kurapika’s banged up heart stutters. “I want that too. I want us to try and get it right.”
“Okay,” says Leorio. “Let’s try this again.”
They're lying in bed facing each other. It's almost morning. They're warm under the covers and their legs are tangled.
“When did you know?” Leorio asks, his chest rumbling.
“Know what?”
A pause. “That you…”
“Oh, that I loved you?” It makes Leorio’s cheeks go pink, and he nods.
“I almost don't want to tell you. You'll probably get mad at me. Remember that mission I told you about? The one where I met Mrs Fortuona? Well, it got bad at one point. The thugs tried to take me out in some brawl in an alley. It got grisly – blood and guts everywhere, that kind of thing. I got beat up real bad. If Mrs Fortuona hadn’t found me and patched me up, I would have certainly died. I don't remember much, but I do remember sitting back against a wall and clutching this wound on my abdomen, ‘cause it was bleeding a lot, y’know? And I just remember thinking to myself, God, please don't let me die. Please let me at least live long enough to see Leorio’s face again. As long as his voice is the last thing I hear, you can take me. But not before then.”
Leorio moves closer to cradle Kurapika’s head close to his chest. “Even when you're dying, you're thinking about others. Think about yourself sometimes, idiot.”
“Anyway, that's when I knew. There’s, ah… this thing in Kurta culture, about who you see when you’re about to die. That’s supposedly the gods telling you that that person is your soulmate – whether they’re a parent, a mentor, a friend, a lover. It doesn’t matter. That person is the missing part of you.” Kurapika lifts his head to stare directly into Leorio’s pupils. “And I saw you, Leorio.”
“I dreamt about you a lot while you were gone,” Leorio confesses, pressing his forehead to Kurapika’s. “Maybe the Kurta gods were trying to tell me about you too.”
“Even if they weren’t,” Kurapika whispers, “I’d still know it was you.”
Leorio strokes Kurapika’s hair. In the sun, it looks like pure spun gold. “I missed you.”
“I know.”
“No, I mean. Even when you were here, right in front of me, I still missed you. I missed the Kurapika I knew. I think he’s back now, though, so it’s okay.”
“I didn’t know it was possible to miss someone who was right in front of you,” Kurapika teases.
“Believe me, it is. And it might be more painful than missing someone far away. I’d know.”
They breathe softly together for another few minutes, until Leorio shifts again to look down at Kurapika. “Hey, what did you do with the money you got from the mission? You said you got, like, twenty million or something from it.”
“Hmm?” Kurapika sniffs, feigning innocence. “Oh, I gave it to Mrs Fortuona. She deserves it way more than I do.”
Leorio groans. “I should have fucking known.”
“What?”
“That you’d martyr yourself again like that. But that was pretty nice of you. Maybe you’re starting to grow a conscience or something.”
“Says you! You’re a doctor but you smoke a pack of cigarettes a day!”
“Hey, chicks dig it.” Leorio scratches at his five o’clock shadow.
“Oh, I bet. You’ve probably got a different girl for every night of the week.”
“Absolutely,” Leorio says, his smile audible. “But I have to break their hearts now, since we’re… y’know…”
“Hmm.”
It’s not that either of them want to say it – they know now that communication is key – it’s more that words seem useless at this point, when they both understand the situation, and each other, so well. Leorio brings his hand up to comb through Kurapika’s golden hair. “I’m hungry,” he says.
“Lobster rolls?” Kurapika asks, eyebrows raised.
“Ugh,” Leorio moans, turning his head into his pillow. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat one of those again without feeling horribly guilty. I’m sorry for yelling at you.”
“That was my plan all along in order to stop you spending money on ostentatious food.” Kurapika turns over, grabbing Leorio’s large, hairy arm and positioning it around his slender waist. “Pavlov’s lobsters.”
“Whatever. Nerd.” He tries to tuck himself in around Kurapika’s frame but ends up with a few stray hairs in his mouth. He spits them out breathily and says, “Ew. This is not how I imagined this would go.”
“Me neither,” Kurapika sighs contentedly, eyes closed. “I imagined I’d be alone.”
“Really?”
“Well, yes. I thought you’d find yourself unable to forgive me and cut all ties with me.”
Leorio’s stubble is itchy on Kurapika’s shoulder. “Too bad. I love you.”
“I love you too.” He could have said hundreds of witty things, but he didn’t want to.
Car horns blare distantly. The wooden blinds clack against the window frame when a small breeze passes through. Kurapika slips into a peaceful sleep, with nothing clouding his mind. He knows Leorio will be there when he wakes up.