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Yorknew is quiet at last, but the milky sheets twist and turn with her.
As heavy with exhaustion her body is, she cannot succumb to sleep. The sight of death is still smeared throughout the streets, her heart still pounding from the seemingly never ending search for survivors. The panicked thought that he might be among those bodies is only beginning to leave her system, and only on account that she dialed his number during her search. Once she had heard his voice, she praised every deity she knew about that he had survived.
How desperately she had wanted to join him, embrace him, and finally unload what she had been carrying in her heart all this time. But she couldn’t. Not after those lunatics wreaked such havoc.
A light rap at her door tears her out of her thoughts, and she jolts upright.
Who’s that? she asks herself.
She mentally prepares herself to activate Ten, but a whisper in her thoughts cautions her against it. She lingers on the bed, sifting through reason and paranoia until a second set of knocks compels her to rise and approach. As she saunters to the door, her palm runs down her thigh, smoothing the soft, cotton nightgown she slept in. She takes the knob in her fingers, running through possible options for both combat and escape if need be. She lets her pores open, Nen rippling through her as she pulls it open -
“Kurapika?” A timpani mallet strikes her heart and cuts her Ten off. The boy she has loved for months stands right outside her hotel room door. The corners of her mouth start to pull into a smile -
Until she truly takes him in. The fire in his eyes that draws her in every time is extinguished. The conviction is drained from his body; while he is still standing straight, he is adrift in an emotion she can’t name.
Something’s wrong.
His eyes pivot onto hers, no luster to be found.
“…Can I come in?” he finally asks.
Her head is still spinning, wondering what is going on, but she doesn’t hesitate. She pushes the door open with her back and allows him to walk inside. His back remains to her as she lets the door swing closed. There’s a darkness around him unlike anything she has felt from him.
“Hey,” she softly beckons. “Are you okay?”
It’s a stupid question - of course he’s not okay, but she doesn’t know what else to ask. He doesn’t turn to look at her at the question, but she continues to approach.
“Kurapika?” she presses.
“The spiders…are dead,” he finally says.
Her heart plummets at the final word. Dead!?
“What…wait.” She finally rounds him, searching his eyes. She bites back her fear when she can’t find anything in them to show any sign of emotion, let alone light. Cautiously, she reaches up a hand and touches the side of his bicep.
“Come here,” she whispers, tugging him towards her. “Tell me what happened.”
Kurapika doesn’t fight her as she walks to the bed. Once she seats herself, she gestures to a spot next to her with a flourish of her hand. The Hunter silently obliges, but once he situates himself on the mattress, he leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, and eyes crane to the floor and remain there. He says nothing, but even in this room, dimly lit by only moonlight, she can see words and emotions colliding in every muscle of his body.
“…I got the word that they were dead,” he finally says. “I couldn’t make myself believe it, so I went to go see for myself. And then…” He swallows. “…there they were. Just…dead.”
“H-How…?” She still can’t accept what he’s telling her. The focus of Kurapika’s rage, gone just like that?
“I don’t know. But they were all there.”
She knows she should be relieved. Yet she can’t make herself feel it. There’s more to this than just closure for the clan he lost being ripped out of possibility.
“After we confirmed they were gone, I was later told the auction was still on, so I raced over and found the auction room…and they had started bidding on the last item.” He forces a swallow, and ice freezes her veins.
“Don’t tell me…”
Kurapika nods, his face frozen.
“Yeah. The boss told me not to worry about the price. I got into a bidding war with someone, and he was pretty insistent…” She tenses. No. He couldn’t have -
“But I won them in the end.”
She relaxes, shuddering with relief.
“After the auctioneer gave them to me, I…” Kurapika pauses, searching for a word or a descriptor that doesn’t exist. “…it was just like standing among their bodies again.” The last syllable constricts. “It’s my last physical reminder of them, and I don’t even know whose eyes they are. I just shut down after I took the box.”
“Where are they now?” she asks.
Kurapika doesn’t answer the question right away, lowering his gaze further. Seven heartbeats later, he lifts his head back up, but doesn’t look at her.
“Neon has them.” His voice betrays no emotion, only the truth. She bites her tongue to keep herself from burning the room down with the profanities rising up her throat.
“I had to give them to her when I got back. The way she handled them…” Agony at the memory glints on his tone. “Played with them, cooed over them like they were just toys -“
She wants to march to Neon’s hospital room and rip the eyes out of her hands, the girl’s tears and her father’s reaction be damned. Instead, she forces a swallow and continues listening.
“I tried to sleep, but the thought of giving them to her…” Kurapika grinds his teeth. “I couldn’t, so I came here.”
She is beyond words. Kurapika all but recounted a night that has ripped his heart to shreds, even if he doesn’t show the full depth of his pain. What words can mend this? What words can make it all go away? No such words exist, so she does the only thing she knows can at least somewhat help.
She reaches out her hand and perches it on his back, stroking it in a comforting fashion.
“Was all of this…the Hunter exam, my Nen training…” He swings his head to look at her. “…Was it all for nothing?”
“ No .” The word is soft, but it still comes out with more force than she intended. She inches closer. “No, it wasn’t.”
Kurapika’s fists clench, the sheets beneath him balling up between his fingers. Though the red glow allows her to see every line in his irises, there’s a gaping hollowness screaming within them.
“Then what was it all for then !?” He can barely keep his strangled words from piercing through the walls. “The murder…the butchery of my clan, putting myself through all this training, killing one of them…”
He starts towards her. “ What was it all for!? ”
She pitches back and pulls her hand away, startled by this anguished outburst as choppy breaths slip between his teeth. In this moment, Kurapika is little more than a wounded animal, lashing out at the first thing to approach. He blinks, however, and the red fades back into its normal silver. He looks as though he awoke in an unfamiliar environment, disoriented and confused.
“I…I’m sorry, I just…” Kurapika’s palm touches his forehead as his wits come back to him. “I…”
“Hey.” Her alarm melts off her in a breath, and she extends her arm back to him. “Hey. Come here.”
This time, her arm circles his shoulders, and she gently pulls him into her. On an instinct he didn’t know he had, Kurapika leans into her, and he doesn’t fight her as she leans back into the bed. Her head comes to rest against the pillows, and she secures him in a snug, comfortable embrace. For a few beats, Kurapika lays against her chest, eyes locked into the wall in front of him, his breath being the only sound in the room.
And then the sobs bubble over.
They are silent, barely audible to her ears, but she can feel him trembling against her and his tears seeping into her skin.
She hates this.
She hates how there’s nothing in her power - Nen or otherwise - that can erase, let alone ease, his pain. She hates that she can’t somehow take his agony into herself, because she would sooner suffer like this than let him feel this way. All she can do is softly shush him and run her fingers through his aureate hair, hoping the touch will be a balm to the agony that spears him. If he feels this, he doesn’t acknowledge it. He is numb in her embrace, shattering inside and leaving her with only pieces that cut her as she holds them.
Desperation takes hold of her as Kurapika grieves like this for several minutes. It’s like watching him drown, but she stands on the shore, uncertainty freezing her legs in place. She has a guess, but no hard measurements to the depths of his anguish. However deep the water, though, she has to dive in. She has to pull him to the surface, help him breathe and let him know he’s not alone, that he’s never been alone.
Her lips caress his forehead, kissing it like a falling feather. The sobs lull to a stop, but she feels him tense in her arms.
And it’s in that second she realizes her mistake.
“I-I’m sorry, that-“ she sputters and instantly releases him, cursing herself for thinking that was what he needed and for misplacing what she hasn’t been able to say onto him, especially in his time of need -
“What?” He pushes himself upright with his hands so that he can face her. There’s no anger in Kurapika’s question, only confusion.
Her eyes flutter and she sits up, panic threatening to rip her apart.
“No, I…” She sighs to disguise the deep breath she’s taken to calm down. “…Not tonight. You’re depressed and you’re not okay, and… I just want to be here for you tonight.”
“No.” A firm, but gentle warmth suddenly seizes her fingers, crushing them together. When she looks down, she realizes Kurapika’s hand has grabbed hers, and his eyes - which have an unreadable, glowing ember in them now - are fixed onto her. Though the tears have ceased, water glimmers on his cheeks.
“…What are you apologizing for?”
“Kurapika-“ Once more, panic grips her. Does he know?
“Say something.” She startles at how much that sounds like a plea. “Anything. Make me feel anything but this.”
Was this really such a good idea while he was this stricken with grief? Besides, he had come into her room looking for comfort, not a confession.
“Please…” he whispers.
This is Kurapika. She knows this conviction. Nothing she says will waver it until he gets what he wants. This is the one time she hates this about him. She doesn’t fight to get out of his grasp, but instead turns her eyes to the floor and brushes her hair behind her ear.
“…I’ve wanted to tell you this for so long…ever since the exam.” She swallows, her throat tightening, protesting against the words. “But the timing was never…right. I wanted to tell you after the orientation, but then Gon woke up and then Killua needed to be rescued, and…”
The ridges of her eyes burn as it all comes back to her. Her fist flies to her chest, and she centers herself before continuing.
“I knew it could be potentially dangerous. You were up against a family of assassins. I told myself you needed to be able to focus. But once you left, it hurt. It hurt so bad. Not being able to see you one last time. Not being able to hear you say goodbye. Not being able to tell you what I had felt all of that time.”
Her throat aches as it remembers the first night without him, and the mournful screams that nearly shredded it.
“…So many nights, I cried myself into exhaustion because I couldn’t stand the thought of never seeing you again. I had my Nen training and various Hunting jobs between then and now, but…”
At last, her own tears spill out with the words, and she forces herself to look directly into his eyes.
“I was lost without you. I am lost without you, Kurapika Kurta.”
He stiffens as the choked words pierce him. Suddenly, she wonders if she should have kept her silence and how much she should punish herself for being so selfish.
He calms and hardens his expression, turning his head back to the floor.
“…I’m sorry.”
She feels a blade poke against her heart, and she tenses for what’s about to happen. I know, this was stupid of me, I just wanted to -
“For what?” she manages to make herself ask, as much as she fears the answer. Why are you sorry, I should be sorry - I am sorry, I’m -
“For not saying something sooner,” Kurapika answers. “…For not telling you I’ve felt the same way.”
The blade she has been bracing herself for suddenly pulls back, and her heart pulses in confusion. “W-What?”
“I wanted to tell you,” he says. “…I’m really not good at this kind of thing, but I did want to tell you. Knowing you wanted to tell me all that time, knowing how much you struggled all this time… I wish you had said something before we left, but I understand why you didn’t.”
Warmth pools at her forehead, and it’s only then does she notice Kurapika’s face has been inching closer as he speaks, until his forehead just barely grazes her.
“But know this. You never left my thoughts. Not for a day. Not even after we rescued Killua. Not even after I began my Nen training.”
She has no words. Not even a letter to begin one. She’s frozen where she sits on the bed, mouth agape and eyes wide as she processes what the youth who claimed her soul has said.
His forehead lightly rests against hers, and her heart flies into her throat.
“Never,” he whispers.
“Then…?” The question asks itself.
Kurapika’s response is to brush his fingers against her cheek and cradle the nape of her neck before his lips meet hers. Taken aback by this bold gesture, she freezes where she sits as her brain explodes into disorientation. She has touched him before - accidental brushes and occasionally putting a hand on his shoulder to reassure him. But no matter how long she has yearned to hold him much more intimately, nothing could have prepared her for this.
It is bewildering and joyous and beautiful all at once.
She closes her eyes and relaxes into him, sliding a hand up his arm and letting it travel across his back. He responds in kind, wrapping his other arm around her and pulling her into him. The kiss breaks for only a second, long enough for them to fully embrace each other, but they reconnect within a single inhalation. She unravels and is stitched together again and again under his kisses, weightless as her mind soars with jubilation.
She feels the vigor in his body with every rake through her hair, every slow movement of his lips. He is no longer the husk that had been outside her door, and her previous anger at the Nostrade family has faded into passion for the young man in her arms.
Finally, the dance of their lips slows to a reluctant, but necessary stop, and their foreheads meet once more.
“I love you,” he whispers. “With every breath I still have.”
Her heart hammers against her ribcage, and how desperately she wants to leap into his embrace and kiss him again and again…until she remembers why he came in here in the first place.
“Kurapika,” she finally manages. “I…I’m overjoyed to hear you say that. I truly am. But, th-this wasn’t the night to tell you this. You came here for comfort and I made this about me. I’m sorry.”
Kurapika locks eyes with her again. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”
It’s true. He could have told her to be quiet, he could have outright walked out of the room. But not only did he stay and listen, he reciprocated. Her heart sprouts hummingbird wings, but she quickly remembers what brought him into her room and sobers.
“Would you…would you mind if I stayed here tonight?” he finally asks. Though life has returned to Kurapika, his voice betrays the weight that still lingers.
“Of course,” she soothes.
“Okay.” Kurapika nods and kicks off his shoes. “Um, don’t freak out over what I’m about to do, okay? I just want to be more comfortable.”
He takes the edge of his overvest and peels it off, and his overskirt slips right off after it, leaving him in only a white shirt with mint green patterning and plain white pants. He gets up long enough to drape them over a chair in the corner of the room before returning to the bed. Having not left her spot, she opens her arms, beckoning him to return to her.
He re-enters her embrace, shivering as her fingernails slide across his back. She swings her legs back onto the bed, and him so that he lies right next to her. New as this is to both of them, being in each other’s arms also feels as natural as breathing. This is where they should have been all these months, all this time.
She sighs. “I love you, Kurapika,” she whispers. “I swear, I will never let you go again.”
Kurapika nods in understanding, slightly smiling at her. “And if I must leave you again, I promise, I will return to you every time.”
She smiles back, the words rushing through her like light into a dark room. Another kiss is exchanged, a soft, simple one that quietly reaffirms what they have admitted to each other.
No further words need to be spoken before both of them freefall into sleep, still entwined in each other.