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It had been too long since Kurapika had a home.
Years ago, when he was much younger, home was a small hut tucked snugly in the thick forest of the Lukso province. Sometimes in his dreams he could feel his mother hug him tightly, her voice hushed as she would tell him of the stars and the moon and the gods that created them, hear his father’s deep and rumbling laugh that was as warm as the evening sun, and feel Pairo’s hands tug at his sleeve as they would dance underneath the tallest trees, the shadows of leaves dancing on the crowns of their heads.
In many of his dreams, Kurapika found himself sitting in the thick brush near his hometown, the sound of Pairo’s counting rising in the air. In others, his mother showed him how to sew a thin tear in his tabard, or a mere glimpse of her blond hair in the sunlight as they harvested herbs. They were just snippets of memories, buried in the back of his head, but it was comforting to see them all in that familiar way. They still seemed alive.
That home didn’t exist anymore. His home was flattened into the earth under the heel of the Phantom Troupe, the eyes of his family stolen, and Kurapika—fueled with the rage, grief, and complete and utter fear too much for a child to carry—dedicated his life to avenging them. Every single last one. And as he grew up, the anger ate him up, body and soul, and rage was the only thing he knew for a time longer than he would like to admit. The only things left of the Kurta were the buried eyes by the old chapel, and Kurapika himself; a ghost of the love and life that was so free on that same land.
After a while, Kurapika never called a place ‘home’. He pushed away his friends. Calls were ignored and emails promptly sat in his inbox, unread, as he went on with his mission. It was this way for years. He wasn’t going to let anyone else get hurt, get taken away the same way his family did, and if they did, how would he take it? Distance, in his mind, was the only way to keep them safe. It was reckless, and so bitter, never telling them that he was safe (if he ever was, in the first place), but he would just convince himself again that if they didn’t know, they would be fine.
A few years passed, and, with tears of joy and anger, Kurapika’s friends welcomed him back. Even when he showed up at Leorio’s doorstep at three a.m., weary and nervous and so broken after finally saying goodbye to his loved ones in the way they deserved, Leorio let him stay. Even when Kurapika was stubborn and felt like he didn’t deserve such kindness, Leorio made him stay. Gon, Killua, Leorio, and Alluka gave him a reason to stay. Then, home wasn’t just that house on top of a hill, filled with jokes and laughter and love.
“Home” wasn’t just hiding in the corners of the room as Killua and Alluka played video games and Gon cheered them on. It wasn’t hiding under the bed as Leorio would flop down beside Kurapika after a twelve hour shift at the hospital, still managing to crack a joke before Kurapika would sternly tell him to go brush his teeth. It didn’t hang out the window as Gon and Killua watched bugs crawl around on the stems of flowers in the garden.
To Kurapika, home hung around the heads and bodies of the inhabitants of the home as well.
Home was in the way Killua would roll his velvety blue eyes in annoyance, in the way he would flush with embarrassment as Gon would prod him with his elbow after a compliment. Killua never was one for being affectionate with Kurapika, and he didn’t blame the kid after all of the bullshit beat into his head by his family, but whenever Killua would help him put away the dishes after lunch, or lay his head on his shoulder after falling asleep during a movie, Kurapika believed that those moments were home, too.
Home lived with ebullience in the way Alluka would wrap her arms around Kurapika’s waist every morning, in the way Nanika would giggle. Her bright blue eyes, so full of light, made him feel at peace. When Alluka would help Kurapika in the garden, the two surrounded by tall sunflowers and sprawling strawberry and tomato plants, wearing one of his sun hats and fondly talking to him about the adventures she’d gone on with Gon and Killua, or the trip to the grocery store with Leorio and Killua earlier that day, that was home, as well. Their conversations were filled with a comforting familiarity.
Home was in Gon’s cheerful laugh, too. Whether Kurapika would hear it over the table at breakfast, or in another room, or piercing the air out in the yard on a foggy day, it would make him smile. Home was written in the way Gon would burst inside, Alluka and Killua at his heels and palms caked in dirt, excitedly talking about a bird he’d seen in the woods, or the catch of the afternoon. Always so restless and adventurous, Gon never failed to make Kurapika laugh. Even when Gon would comfort him the morning after a nightmare, or keep him company by the loom when he could have been playing outside, that, too, was home.
And Leorio; Kurapika loved Leorio. Leorio, as big and tough as he seemed to be, loved him, too. Leorio, always so smart and indignant, loved with everything he had. At their first meeting on that boat, he was brash and hard and just so unlikable. But as time went on, Kurapika came to the realization that he really wasn’t that bad. And after being gone for so long, with no communication whatsoever, not even a voicemail or just a simple text, Kurapika found out how big of a heart Leorio had.
Kurapika could remember how clearly scared and worried Leorio was when he came back. He cried, and held the blond man in his arms, all the while clutching handfuls of his shirt in his hands like he would run away again. He was pissed, cursing Kurapika for being so fucking quiet and why didn’t he just text him back, dammit, to let him and the kids know that he wasn’t dead somewhere, and Kurapika didn’t blame him. He couldn’t blame him. He just cried into his shoulder. That night, Kurapika promised to never run away from them again. And he didn’t.
When Gon and Killua came back from Whale Island a few days later, Alluka in tow, Kurapika knew what he wanted. It was a tearful reunion, most of the tears spilled by Gon and Kurapika, the air filled with Gon’s excited questions and exclamations of “Wow, Kurapika, I can’t believe this!” Killua had given Kurapika a half-hug, which he accepted nonetheless, and Alluka, always so sweet, made her way in Kurapika’s heart right next to Gon, Killua, Leorio, and Melody.
He had thought to himself if Melody could hear the cadence of his heart from where she was.
Home lived fearlessly in Leorio’s loud laugh, in his gentle hands, in the curl of his lips. It existed so authentically and so gently, just like Leorio; it was as warm as his hands and his voice, as tender as his words and was as strong and kind as he was. Home breathed life into the foundations as Leorio would tickle Kurapika as he put away the laundry, their laughter bouncing off the walls as Kurapika ducked and swatted at his arm with a sock as Leorio dove to poke him in the ribs once more. It buzzed in the air, so thick it felt tangible, when Leorio would hold him at night and tell him how much he loved him, or when he would gently remind Kurapika not to wear his binder for too long, or in the afternoons when he would tell Kurapika how much he adored him just to see his eyes roll and face turn pink. Home fell into the warmth seeping into their chests as they caught each other’s eye in the golden glow of the sunset, the corners of their mouths curling upwards before Kurapika rolled his eyes, still smirking, and glanced back up at the pink and purple clouds. Home sang as Kurapika would bridge the gap between him and Leorio, smiling against his lips and pulling away to mock an earlier comment before Leorio would pull him back in, when Leorio would smile whenever they would pull apart and point out Kurapika’s red eyes and Kurapika would blush.
Home fell into place so easily when Kurapika, covered in a cold sweat that chills and brought goosebumps, would suddenly awake from a nightmare of Spiders clawing at his face, a scream caught in his throat, and Leorio would comfort him until his breath slowed, and he was gently reminded by the warmth of the blankets and the sound of the house settling in the cold night air: he was safe. After years of being on the run and never settling down in one place for too long, he was safe.
Home hummed quietly as Leorio would always press a quick kiss to Kurapika’s cheek before he would go off to work, and it would seep into the floors when he would come home and Kurapika, always so happy to see him come back, would give him a tight hug and warm up leftovers from dinner. In every terrible joke, every conversation, and in every declaration of love—no matter how big or small for either man—home reverberated in their words and lingering gazes as Killua gagged and Gon pushed his head into a nearby pillow. It was alive and well in each kiss and every kind word and glance Leorio gave him. Kurapika felt like a piece of sunlight.
Home lived in Kurapika, as well. It came first with apprehension, for fear that they would all leave him, too, but it came to eventually. It eased in, and made its place to stay. Home danced as he would sing in the kitchen, in a language that no one else spoke, the notes lilting from his lips over a chopping board with Leorio listening intently from the living room and Alluka listening from the stairs and swayed her head along with it. It whistled like a spring breeze when he would bring in fresh flowers from the garden and put them in a vase, right in a bright patch of sunlight in Leorio’s study so the doctor could admire them when he felt like looking up from paperwork; in every stern or soft look towards the kids, in every whispered sweet nothing to Leorio before they would drift off into sleep, in the work he put into that big garden he invested so much time in, when Alluka would sit at his feet and he would braid her hair, telling her the same stories his mother told him all those years ago, there it was.
It lived, without the old anger and rage that he once possessed where love once was, when he would give Killua's pale, cold hands a tight, loving squeeze, and would smile when he would feel Killua squeeze back three times. Home dreamed in the assorted little trinkets from Alluka and Gon on his desk—shells and rocks, crystals and little twigs, a bottle cap or two, a colored pencil drawing by Nanika and Alluka. He loved the little things dearly, though anyone could have regarded them as trash or junk. He never could, though.
In the early morning light, the first to rise in the house, Kurapika realized all of this with a soft smile on his face as he glanced over at Leorio sleeping beside him. And, after all of the heartache, pain, and anger, Kurapika got what he finally wanted—a home. Life was lovely. He wasn’t so afraid anymore, and he wanted to stay, no matter what. He had everything he wanted.
He pressed a kiss to Leorio’s cheek, shying away from the stubble and felt him stir awake underneath him. His eyelashes fluttered, he squinted, and he greeted Kurapika with a short grunt and a pat on the back. His right eyebrow was a little messed up from sleeping on his side and moving around, and it only made Kurapika smile.
“Good morning, love,” Kurapika whispered to him. A smile melted onto Leorio’s face.
Leorio yawned and pecked the tip of Kurapika’s nose. “‘Mornin’, Pika,” Leorio whispered in reply. Kurapika laid his chin against his shoulder, taking in the way he looked in the soft blue and yellow light. “Watcha thinkin’ about?” he asked softly.
Kurapika kissed him on the cheek again, and when he pulled away, he smiled. “I’m just thinking about how lucky I am to have all of you with me.” Leorio chuckled, took one of Kurapika’s hands and kissed the back of it, laid there for a moment, soaking up the sliver of sun peeking through their window and rubbing his thumb against Kurapika’s hand. Kurapika sat up, smiled down at him, and kissed the top of his head before resting his cheek against his dark hair, humming a Kurta song that he couldn’t remember some of the lyrics to.
“We’re lucky to have you with us, too, sunshine,” Leorio told him, eyes closed and holding Kurapika close.
Kurapika held a hand to the side of Leorio’s face, his palm cupped against his cheek and jaw. Leorio sighed and pressed his head against Kurapika’s chest. “I love you. So, so much,” he said. Leorio smiled and held the arm that rested on his chest. Kurapika pressed another kiss to his hair. “You make me happy,” he whispered, so sure that Leorio didn’t hear him. Leorio leaned into his touch with a little smile.
Look, mom, dad, Pairo, Kurapika thought when he looked out the window. The far off city sprawled out to the horizon, the gray buildings a bright combination of yellows and blues as the sun rose. The straggling clouds were orange and lavender. The sight reminded him of all the sunrises from his childhood, of all of the early mornings he spent waiting for the rest of the life around him to witness the dawn with him. He took a deep breath, letting the cold air fill his lungs as he took in the sight, and then he sighed. Maybe they could see him now. I’m happy. I’m alive. I love it here, I can finally be at peace; I hope you all are, as well. I’m not frightened anymore. I’m glad to be alive. And it was nothing but the wholehearted, honest, clear truth.
He was finally home.