Chapter Text
Leorio thrums his fingers on his hardwood hand me down IKEA desk, his shoulders hunched over his Pathology text book. His tea sits beside him, cold and neglected — not that it did much for him in the first place. His eyes feel heavy and he’s scanned the same page at least eight times. He knows it’s pointless to try and absorb any more information, but Cheadle’s tests are brutal so he’s opted to memorize and cram as much as he can. He feels the sponge of his brain sag with information. Thoughts and formulas and definitions threaten to spill out of his head.
The rain outside pours heavily, making his tiny apartment feel colder and more alone that it already is.
He hears a soft click and the sound of the door creaking open.
“Hey,” Kurapika calls out.
“Hey yourself,” Leorio answers back.
He takes in the sight of Kurapika. His golden hair is sticking to his skin, messily clinging onto his forehead and neck. Kurapika’s drenched like a wet rat, shivering, nose red from the almost winter air. He smells faintly of roasted coffee and rainwater.
Leorio thinks he’s the most beautiful thing.
He tries to stop the heavy beating in his chest.
. . .
Leorio didn’t know how things ended up the way they did. One day they were first years in college butting heads throughout first semester, and the next thing Leorio knew, they were renting out an apartment together. It was close enough to Leorio’s grad school, and just ten minutes shy of the nearest city.
He can’t pinpoint the exact moment Kurapika started leaving. Kurapika would be gone for hours at a time, and hours became days and days became weeks and weeks became months. Despite rarely being present, he always managed to pay the bill on time, even wiring it once when he was on one of his long, secretive trips.
There had been a handful of times Leorio tried to ask where he went off to, only to be greeted with irritation, like it was a problem for him to care in the first place.
He eventually stopped pestering Kurapika, trying hard not to create an even bigger rift.
. . .
The rain doesn’t let up, both of them don’t mind much. Leorio has far too much work to bother going outside, and Kurapika likes staying in when time allows him. Leorio sits on the loveseat, while Kurapika lies on it, with his head at the end of the couch and his legs splayed across Leorio’s lap.
“There’s a perfectly good seat ten feet away from you,” Leorio states, although he doesn’t push Kurapika off him.
“I can’t lie down there, plus, this is comfortable,” Kurapika says smugly, not bothering to unbury his face from the book he’s currently trying to get through.
And Leorio agrees, this is comfortable.
Kurapika gets up eventually, the loveseat is too small to lie comfortably for too long. He stretches thoroughly, the loose fitting sweat pants hang low on his hips, and Leorio’s eyes wander down the slight dimples on his back. Kurapika’s light blonde hair falls just short of his shoulders, and he sometimes ties it up in a small messy bun exposing the smooth pale curve of his neck. Leorio daydreams on what it would feel like to place kisses on the nape of his neck, to press himself up against Kurapika’s lithe frame.
Instead, he gets up from the couch and brushes past Kurapika, their skin touching briefly.
“This is enough,” Leorio thinks to himself.
. . .
They eat what they have available. Tonight on the menu is eggs with whatever shit they can find in their fridge. It’s a scrambled concoction of week old vegetables and leftover meat, but it’s palatable.
Leorio pops open a bottle of cheap table wine, and they end up on the couch, huddled, watching terrible Hallmark movies on the little downtime they both have. Kurapika’s tired body sags against him until he eventually falls asleep. Leorio has the sudden urge to kiss Kurapika’s forehead, but decides against it, instead letting his friend sleep through the credits.
The routine continues. From late night to early morning, Leorio studies and goes to school. He doesn’t know what Kurapika does in the meantime, and he doesn’t ask.
. . .
“They’re opening up a new bake shop next week if you want to come. Gon knows the owner, he says it’s supposed to be really good,” Leorio mentions.
Kurapika towels off the rest of his wet hair. He takes quick showers, hot enough for the rest of his skin to blush pink.
“Sounds like it would fun,” Kurapika replies.
“So you’ll be here?”
“I should be.”
Knowing Kurapika might stay for the next week or so blooms something hopeful in Leorio’s chest.
Kurapika keeps his word and comes to the opening of Palm’s bakeshop. The air is cold and the snow is just only starting to stick to the ground. He sits in front of Leorio next to an open window seat, they both nurse a coffee mug and share a slice of one of Palm’s signature cheesecake.
Leorio walks home with Kurapika, he stops to brush the snowflakes that settle on Kurapika’s bangs. He feels Kurapika leaning into the touch and he looks at Leorio as if he’s waiting for something to happen.
Leorio does his best to swallow down everything he wants to say.
He can’t help but wonder how long Kurapika will stay this time.
He hopes it’s a while.
. . .
Kurapika leaves only a couple of days after. He’s gone so much at this point, Leorio doesn’t bother checking his room, he just knows . The air always feels colder and the faint smell of coffee is long gone.
Leorio is used to it by now, but he can’t help the ache in his chest every time Kurapika goes away.
Kurapika’s months rent sits on the top of the kitchen counter, hinting towards a long leave. Leorio moodily wonders why Kurapika even bothers paying since he’s never there. He tries not to let it get to him, but it always does.
Leorio drowns himself with homework and extra hours at the lab. He spends more and more time at the library. He studies in the university coffee shop, making more flashcards than he intended to, anything to keep his mind focused on something other than the feeling of loneliness that settles in the pit of his stomach.
“You look down today,” Gon notes, sliding over hot tea in Leorio’s direction.
Leorio has known Gon for only a short while, but it doesn’t take much to warm up to Gon. He met the kid when he was assisting for a first year undergrad biology class, with Gon close to failing. They worked long hours to have Gon barely scrape by, and the rest was history.
“Just a little tired,” Leorio lies.
“Kurapika is gone again isn’t he. You’re always sad when he’s gone,” Gon says bluntly.
Leorio purses his lips in agitation, and keeps silent.
Gon sympathetically pats Leorio’s shoulder, sliding the remaining half of his coffee cake in hopes of cheering his friend up.
. . .
Nights at Leorio’s apartment are long and silent, the only sound being the consistent howling of the wind. The snow piles up, a mini blizzard heads over to the city, and Leorio hopes that wherever Kurapika is, it’s warmer than here.
He keeps studying. The dull ache in his heart doesn’t cease.
. . .
Leorio remembers nights where both he and Kurapika would stay up until early morning with only the company of coffee and each other. They’d drink until their bones jumped with borrowed energy and their hearts beat with only the help of caffeine to keep them awake. They’d take long breaks on the rooftops of the library, snacking on energy bars they snuck out of the cafeteria.
They only got closer from there. With prolonged stares and fleeting touches, they were always a little closer than even the closest of friends. There have been chances for the both of them to part ways, to be with other people, but they chose to say in the limbo of being available but not doing anything about it.
It wasn’t until Leorio was in his third year of college when he knew he was in love with Kurapika. The realization started off as a slow burn and ended like a punch in the gut. He knew he was deeper into this friendship when he started asking what could be instead of what already was, and how that thought had always been there unrecognized.
But things were great, Leorio was happy, and there wasn’t any need to push something that was already good.
. . .
Kurapika quit his last semester in, without letting anyone know why.
. . .
Leorio rushes his final report over to Cheadle’s office, scrambling to get it submitted before the deadline. Much to her student’s relief, Cheadle graciously offers to extend the deadline, yet Leorio manages to still finish right before the last few minutes of the submittal time.
He’s greeted by Mizaistom and Cheadle. They’re talking over boxed lunches, exchanging information Leorio has no part of.
His university hosts some of the most eccentric, yet brilliant professors. Alongside Mizaistom and Cheadle, they were able to grab Kite for their ecology department, and Ging for their renowned archaeology program. Most of the professors in the university butt heads quite often, but Leorio notes that Mizaistom and Cheadle are one of the few who try to keep things civil in the faculty.
As the head of the criminal justice department, Mizaistom is known for his authoritative nature and rigorous courses. It was no wonder him and Cheadle got along well so well.
“You cut it close Paladiknight,” Cheadle muses as her eyes keep watch of the time.
Mizaistom laughs at Leorio’s frazzled state. ”Easy there Yorkshire. If you scare any more of your class, you’ll end up with half of them dropping out.”
“If they can’t pass the basics, then they deserve to fail. Luckily, Leorio has been keeping up fairly well.” Cheadle smirks.
Leorio can feel himself blush as he stammers a quick thank you.
Mizaistom studies Leorio’s face for a bit, like he’s seen him from somewhere.
“Hey, you hung around Kurapika right?”
“Ah, yea, he’s my roommate. We live together off campus.”
Mizaistom looks surprised at Leorio’s answer. “He’s still around town?”
“Sometimes, but he’s gone pretty often doing who knows what.”
Mizaistom nods in understanding. “He was one of my best pupils. If you ever see him, let him know to talk to me if he ever wants to come back.” Mizaistom pauses before adding, “And tell him to keep out of trouble.”
Leorio nods and politely makes his way out of the office.
“Is Kurapika the student you mentioned before?” Leorio hears Cheadle’s muffled voice from the middle of the hall.
“Yea, that’s the one.”
“Poor kid, to survive all that,” Cheadle says solemnly.
The way they talk about Kurapika is unsettling.
Leorio runs to the library.
. . .
It takes Leorio approximately fifteen minutes to google everything he needs to know. Approximately twelve years ago, the Kurta massacre happened. A good two years ago, the exact year Kurapika quit school, the reemergence of the Phantom Troupe created headlines among the biggest news outlets.
Everything that was missing finally clicks together. Kurapika’s line of study, his various long disappearances, and his secretive past makes so much sense now. Leorio feels like an idiot for not knowing, but at the same time, it’s not like Kurapika had bothered tell him.
Leorio’s worry increases tenfold knowing that Kurapika was out there, trying to chase after demons that are far too strong for a single person to deal with alone.
Leorio sends emails, texts, close to a million voicemails, all coming up empty. This isn’t the first time Kurapika has been off the grid, but this is the first time Leorio knew why . Leorio’s hands shake after the fourth consecutive attempt to call. He knows it’s futile, but he tries, and tries, and tries.
His throat closes up, thinking about Kurapika. He wonders if Kurapika is hurt, if he’s ok, if he has anyone to go to.
. . .
Leorio comes back one late afternoon to find Kurapika settled on the couch, like he never left.
“Hey,” Kurapika waves. He gets up from his seat to give a proper hello. He looks weary and exhausted, but he gives Leorio a small smile and Leorio feels like his heart might burst.
“Hey,” Leorio replies.
He drops his bag unceremoniously near the door, and it only takes a couple of steps to close the distance between Kurapika and him. He holds Kurapika like it’s going to stop him from leaving, like it will make everything ok.
“That’s quite the greeting,” Kurapika says, returning the hug. He’s laughing but Leorio can feel how tense Kurapika is.
”Why didn’t you answer any of my calls?,” Leorio’s voice sounds hurt, but he can’t help feeling relieved. Kurapika’s in front of him, unscathed and alive.
“I’ve been busy. And it’s not like you’ve minded before,” Kurapika answers. He tries to brush Leorio’s worry off, but Leorio could see the guilt written all over his face.
“I did my own research and I found out everything, about your family, why you dropped out of college. And I’m pretty sure I have a good clue where you’re slinking off to. You’re going after them aren’t you? You’re trying to figure this case on your own.”
Kurapika stays silent, he stiffens at Leorio’s words, his stance defensive and alert. Leorio can’t read Kurapika’s face, but he notices the hooded grey eyes staring intensely at him. For a second, he thinks he sees a flicker of red.
“What I’m doing on my own time is none of your concern,” Kurapika responds. His voice is low and dangerous.
“I’m making it my problem because I care! ,” Leorio shouts, loud enough in hopes that Kurapika understands.
“Caring about me won’t do either of us any good. It just makes things that much harder—,”
“Kurapika you’re my friend ,” Leorio says, his voice escalating. His tone is careful, but he wants to make sure his words carry through.
The way Leorio walks up to Kurapika and carefully cups his face is everything but platonic. He tilts Kurapika’s chin, forcing his shorter friend to look at him.
“Whatever it is, I can help. I promise. Please, just let me in,” Leorio says, softer this time. He tries not to sound too desperate, but he feels like he doesn’t have enough time in the world to convince Kurapika to listen.
Kurapika shakes his head and says nothing. He clenches his fists till they’re bone white. Kurapika doesn’t look up at him, he doesn’t speak for a while, and Leorio can’t help but feel hopeless.
“I want to but I can’t,” Kurapika says after a while. Leorio knows him well enough to notice the crack in his voice.
Leorio studies the soft smooth features of Kurapika’s face and the way Kurapika’s mouth turns downwards into a regretful frown.
Leorio’s heart feels so heavy and full and he wants nothing more than to be apart of Kurapika’s life, although he knows there may be no place for him.
Without thinking, Leorio kisses him, long and slow and deep and full of everything he’s wanted to say but can’t find the words to. To Leorio’s surprise, Kurapika kisses back, desperate and frantic and much unlike himself.
Kurapika wraps his arms around Leorio’s neck, pulling himself deeper into the kiss.
He kisses Leorio as if time was running out.
Their mouths move together as they find a steady rhythm. The only sounds are the slight rustle of clothes and the heavy breath shared between the two.
They say what they need to through touch and fall asleep together, messy and tangled in each other.
Leorio inhales the faint smell of fresh coffee, and rainwater. It’s comforting and familiar and it feels like home.
He almost wants to cry.
. . .
“The first time I left, I never intended to come back,” Kurapika murmurs against Leorio’s mouth. His slender fingers are tracing circles along Leorio’s bare shoulder.
Leorio hums into the kiss, he trails his hands down the soft curves of Kurapika’s cheek.
“I’m glad you did,” Leorio says quiety. He brushes his lips along the area where Kurapika’s neck and shoulder meet, and grins to himself when he feels Kurapika shiver into the touch.
“Everything is difficult. It’s hard to be away from you but it’s also hard to stay here,” Kurapika says.
“Whatever happens, it will be ok. I promise,” Leorio says. His voice is laced with such confidence, he almost fools himself.
Leorio can barely make out Kurapika’s figure in the shadows, but he hears the faintest of sighs. He kisses the wet area right under Kurapika’s eyes and wipes away anything left.
Leorio’s eyelids are heavy with sleep but he does his best to stay awake.
He’s waiting for that feeling of elation and accomplishment. He’s gotten everything he’s ever wanted but he can’t feel happy when everything feels like goodbye.
He drowns the heavy feeling in his chest by kissing every part of Kurapika.
. . .
He wakes up in Kurapika’s bed in the morning.
The space right next to him is cold and empty and for a moment he wonders if he dreamt it all.
Leorio doesn’t bother checking the rest of the apartment. Like every other goddamn time, he just knows.
The room smells of faint coffee and rainwater and the remnants of home.
Leorio feels like crying.
And so he does.