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Grey eyes stare back at him from his reflection, an uneasy feeling settled into the very marrow of his bones as he stares at himself in the mirror. The contacts helping him conceal the red of his eyes itch from the long day and he can’t help how his hands scrub at his eyes. When his hands leave his contacts no longer itch but the skin around his eyelids are a splotchy red and noticeably irritated.
For the first time since he got his job for the Nostrade family he finally takes a chance to breathe and unfortunately with the calm comes processing.
His life’s mission, in shambles at his feet, and him a murderer.
He doesn’t regret what he did to Uvogin and he wishes he could. Wishes he could regret how killing the spider made him feel proud- had made him feel righteous. He was stepping strongly into his mission and this kill was only the first step. He felt victorious, felt like the moment was a defining feature in the rest of his mission.
He had used this man’s death as a measure for how well he could manage to kill several other people, felt smug at how well it went.
He remembers the shovel he packed for the fight, knowing he would bury a body that night, and feels cold all over.
It meant everything then and it means nothing now. His regret coming from the person he’s learned he is and not from his actions. He’s taken a life and he’s upset that he doesn’t care.
To kill someone and to feel nothing at all... only monsters like them do that.
Now those monsters are dead and he’s here, standing in a random bathroom in the Cemetery Building staring at himself in the mirror and not recognizing who is staring back at him.
Leorio’s warning from the Hunter exam about whether or not he could stoop to this level hurts more now than ever, especially now with several missed calls from him and Kurapika spiraling.
He misses Leorio and the kids, more than he could ever put into words. For someone who usually knows exactly what to say, he feels at a loss for words.
“Hello, sorry for not picking up the phone. I don’t care that I’ve killed a man and that scares me. I can’t even brave myself in the mirror, please come see me so you can see me crumbling beneath my well-placed armor.”
It’s not like they couldn’t tell, hell, the kids knew, but if Kurapika could have it his way no one would’ve ever found out. He knows it makes no difference regardless, they knew from the start this was his goal, but now that it’s here it feels different.
Killua has always had this nonchalance about killing due to his upbringing and if Gon’s call told him anything it told him Gon would’ve went to war for him if that’s what he asked of him.
He didn’t want that for them. He didn’t want to put the weight that rests upon his shoulders on the shoulders of these kids he cares for so deeply. Not that they couldn’t handle it, they definitely could and would if Kurapika were to ask. They just didn’t need to. He couldn’t forgive himself if he asked something like this of them.
He knows what it’s like to have the weight of the world placed on his shoulders so young and he doesn’t want to add to the baggage they’re already dragging steadily behind them.
And Leorio...Kurapika just doesn’t know.
Leorio has always been different than the other people Kurapika has met, not that he is too terribly socialized, but it is such a stark difference that even he can see he isn’t the same as everyone else. He brings out the firey side of him, winds him up like a top and sends him flying with a few haphazard words.
He likes bickering with Leorio, likes spending time with him in a way he can’t compare to spending time with the kids or anyone else, really. With all the time he’s been gone from him there’s been an itch beneath his skin accompanying thoughts of him. An itch that can’t be scratched and only becomes more agitated with every answered call where he can hear him, but he can’t touch or see him.
It’s one of his one hundred excuses as to why he doesn’t pick up the phone- not that that particular excuse would ever see the light of day, that is.
Maybe that’s why he finally gets the nerve to respond to him. Not to call him, Kurapika is sure to break if he calls, so he sends him a text.
K: Come to the Cemetery Building and say I sent for you.
There’s a moment where Kurapika wonders if he’ll even bother to come, wonders if he finally gave up on him. He couldn’t really blame him after months of ignored calls being responded to with a rare text message.
Then he responds twice in rapid succession.
L: Okay
L: Be there soon
Of course he will, Kurapika isn’t sure why he ever thought he wouldn’t. If Leorio is anything, he is loyal, and to doubt his loyalty is to doubt who he is.
He puts his phone back up and leans against the sink, elbows braced on the outside and face pressed to his clasped hands. To anyone else it would seem as though he is praying and perhaps if Kurapika was more intact and not carrying the weight of all those he has lost he would consider calling out.
Kurapika doesn’t like deluding himself, so he doesn’t, just presses his elbows harder into the cold porcelain and waits.
He isn’t sure how long he leans against the sink, but before long the door behind him clicks open and he tilts his chin up to see behind himself in the mirror. Leorio is gently pushing the door closed behind him, his tall frame towering in the small bathroom.
The room felt small enough to Kurapika, who is certainly tall but definitely not Leorio’s size, so he can only imagine how small the room feels to him.
“Sorry for the wait, tried telling ‘em you sent me, but they wouldn’t budge so I flashed my Hunter’s license.” He mutters.
Kurapika considers what to say for a moment and can’t form any of the words that come to mind, he flounders, and embarrassingly enough Leorio notices.
“It’s been a while now, huh? You look good. Probably wouldn’t be so shocking if you could pick up the damn phone!” He snarks, but Kurapika’s traitorous heart holds onto you look good and seizes.
“Thank you... I’d like to say I’ll try to pick up the phone more, but...”
“We both know you’re not going to.” Leorio interrupts. “You alright?”
For all that he is, he is not a liar.
He shakes his head, doesn’t move from his bowed position.
“C’mon sunshine, you’re gonna kill your shoulders like this.” Leorio says softly.
His hand presses against his lower back and Kurapika is hit achingly with just how small he is in the other man’s grasp. His palm fills so much space against his back, the edges of his finger tips curving around the side of his hip where they overhang.
It sets him on fire and yet it’s comforting all the same.
He pulls himself up off his elbows, his shoulder blades are stiff from the prolonged strain, and they scream in protest as they shift with the movement. He stretches until he’s his full height, resisting the urge to bow to the weight on his shoulders, so certain that if he did he would fall to his knees and stay there.
He’s hurting and for once he’s tired of doing it on his own. Tired of bottling it up and shutting people out. Not for the first time he wonders what it would be like to be held through his heart ache and for the first time he actually allows himself to carry through with the thought.
He turns to face Leorio, the hand remaining firmly on his back as he does so, and presses in close. He doesn’t wrap his arms around him, just leans his face against his chest, the material of Leorio’s suit smooth under the softness of Kurapika’s cheek.
“Jeez you really aren’t okay.” Leorio remarks, not unkindly. His free hand finds Kurapika’s hair, fingers running through the silky strands. The burning guilt in his stomach ebbs away, replaced by butterflies that flutter and twist at the other man’s touch.
Even with Leorio’s chest beneath his head and his hands on him, Kurapika feels like he’s too far away from him. Feels like the only way he could ever feel enough of him would be to fall into him and disappear.
If only that’s something he could do.
Hesitantly Kurapika brings one of his arms up and wraps it around Leorio’s waist.
It’s tentative and light.
It’s earth shattering and mind blowing.
It’s everything and it is nothing and it is driving Kurapika to the brink of madness while grounding him all the same.
“I’m not made of glass, Pika. If you need a hug you need a hug. That’s all there is to it.”
Kurapika wraps his other arm around him, less hesitantly this time. Leorio’s hand on his lower back raises and for a second he fears he’s going to release him. Instead he begins softly rubbing his back, his hand skating up and down his spine.
All at once it feels like his breath has been punched out of him.
Kurapika leans in further, finally rests all of his weight against him, and lets out the quietest little sigh. Barely even a puff of air and yet it feels like everything has been pushed from his lungs.
He holds him and lets himself be held.
Feels the hand carefully tracing up the length of his spine. Feels the hand bracing in his hair that long since stopped moving. Feels Leorio, solid and real, beneath his cheek and in his arms.
Feels human for the first damn time in ages.
Kurapika breathes him in and feels and he’s not ever sure it’ll ever stop.
It’s a long, comfortable moment before he speaks again.
“Gon and Killua miss you, you know?” Leorio mumbles. He presses his face into the top of Kurapika’s head, nose buried in his hair and lips against his forehead.
His forehead burns where his lips press and he resists the pressing his forehead against him to feel it all over again.
“I know, I miss them too.” He whispers in response, as if it’s a secret.
Maybe it is.
“Y’know... It’s not just them that miss you. I miss having you around.” His hand pauses as it skates up towards the back of his neck, a gentle squeeze rocks Kurapika’s core, then he resumes his stroking as though he did nothing at all.
He wishes he could give him a valid reason for his distance beyond not ever needing to keep in contact with someone he loves before, a better reason than how he’s so down on himself he couldn’t imagine speaking to anyone who actually matters- no matter how badly he wants to.
Instead he says, “I miss being around.”
“And you miss me?” Leorio gently prods.
“Yes, I do.”
‘I really really do.’
“You don’t have to do this alone, Kurapika, we want to help you. We want to be here for you. I want to be here for you.” Leorio says, soft and passionate rolled into one.
Kurapika could kiss him.
“I know.” He can’t stand to tell him no so he dodges the question inside his plea.
“You’re not going to consider it, are you?” Leorio sighs, his breath tickles his forehead.
“I’ll try to call more often.” Kurapika says instead, surprised to find that he actually means it.
“I’ll take what I can get.” Leorio replies, a weariness in his voice that makes Kurapika thoughtlessly tighten his grip around him.
It falls silent again and this time it stays that way. Stays silent until Kurapika’s phone blaring sends them pulling apart.
Mr. Nostrade is calling and Kurapika has a job to do, he only hopes his moment of weakness didn’t lose his shot at bidding on the eyes.
The phantom troupe may be dead, but the eyes are still out there and Kurapika intends to get them back.
They don’t talk about it, even as Leorio ghosts a kiss against Kurapika’s temple opposite of the phone against his ear and Kurapika nearly tips over trying to lean into it.
They go their separate ways and Kurapika’s heart aches for it, only intensified by having to stare at the scarlet eyes on stage. He wins them, of course he does, and moments after when he’s done making his call to his boss, his phone vibrates.
L: Call me when you get a chance
Kurapika stares at the text, considers not doing it, and finds that he really wants to. It would be so easy to ignore the message, to go about this on his own, but his heart aches at the thought of leaving right as whatever it is he and Leorio have going starts to come to fruition.
He takes an unsteady breath and hits the call button, “Hello Leorio.”
“Hey sunshine, I’m out to eat with the kids. You comin’?”
Kurapika smiles, a giddy little thing that takes him off guard.
“Yes, sure, give me just a moment.”
Maybe, just maybe, things could be okay.