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“It’s me.”
This was a mistake. He should have called Melody. Damn it. Damn it all to hell.
“Kurapika,” Leorio’s voice over the phone was scratchy and deep, like he’d just woken up. “Christ, what time is it?”
“I-I do not know.” He’d lost all steam from the battle. Looking down at his hands, red and slick with Uvogin’s blood, made him violently nauseous. On the other side of the phone line, fabric shifted and mattress springs creaked. Leorio sighed.
“Nevermind, doesn’t matter. What’s going on?”
“Where are you?” Hello Leorio. How are you? Sorry I have not called. It is good to hear your voice. I missed you. No, he skipped all of that. Very friendly, Kurapika. Nicely done.
“I don’t know, some hotel? Uh…” He could hear Leorio stand up, and rummage around. “Congress Street, like six blocks from the park. Why?”
Kurapika had to take a deep breath. Could he really tell Leorio why? He was a doctor, surely he wouldn’t turn a blind eye toward murder. But he was already on the phone, and really, who else could Kurapika talk to? He liked Melody, but this was too personal. Uvogin’s eyes, left open for eternity, judged him from the ground. He would not allow himself to be judged by a Spider.
“I need a ride,” he said, stalwartly ignoring the tremble in his voice.
When Leorio got there, Kurapika was covered in blood and dirt. His crime was cleaned up, and his stomach had been purged a few times throughout. Leorio must have thought he’d been hit by a bus. But no, Kurapika did this to himself.
“Do I want to know?” Leorio asked, as he climbed into the passenger’s seat.
“Probably not.”
The car started, and they began their drive back to civilization. Kurapika texted Melody, letting her know he was still alive. She responded almost immediately, letting him know she was glad, and updating him on the status of their associates. Once he knew the boss was safe, he turned off his phone. He wanted to throw it out the window, but refrained. Leorio would definitely ask some questions about that.
In fact, his driver had been uncharacteristically silent. Kurapika looked at him. Leorio was focused on the road, lips pressed into a grim line. Traffic lights pooled in the lenses of his glasses. Now that it was late, they’d been switched for standard reader’s. Kurapika wondered why he didn’t wear them all the time. They were a serious upgrade from his dreadful tea shades. Maybe it was because they accentuated the tired bags under his eyes.
Kurapika’s throat felt sticky and full. He hated the relative silence they were in, and wanted to break out of it. But what could he say? He’d just done something that went against everything Leorio stood for. How could this end without disgust and despair?
He grit his teeth, and said, “I am sorry.”
Leorio glanced at him, confused.
“For what?”
He just shook his head.
“All of it. Everything.”
They were pulling into the city now, heading toward Dayroad Park. Leorio was taking him back to his hotel. Of course he was, he didn’t know where Kurapika was staying. For some reason, it still tamed the hurricane churning in his stomach, just a little. It had been years since Kurapika was last taken care of.
Leorio sighed.
“You don’t have to apologize to me.”
Kurapika stayed choked up for the rest of the car ride.
The hotel room was modest, not like what the Nostrade’s had set him up with. A specific bit of tension he’d been carrying since he got this job wormed its way out of his posture. Kurapika took a deep breath. Faintly, he smelled Leorio’s cologne.
“Gon and Killua are in the next room over,” Leorio said. He looked at Kurapika with an expression he couldn’t read, then tilted his head toward the open bathroom door. “You should get cleaned up, then we’ll talk.”
“Okay,” Kurapika nodded, “Thank you.”
Far be it from him to turn down a hot shower right now. He sighed with relief as the filth dripped from him, turning the water pink and brown. The steam did nothing to clear his head. He felt heavy and exhausted, a haze steadily creeping over his mind. The bathroom door opened, then shut a moment later. When Kurapika peeked around the curtain, he saw a clean shirt and sweatpants folded on the toilet seat.
Leorio was sitting in the chair, tucked into the corner of the room, with a medical textbook in his lap. He looked up as Kurapika emerged from the bathroom, hair still damp.
“Hey,” he said, and closed his book.
“Hey,” said Kurapika.
The clothes were big on him, and it took effort to keep them from sliding down. But they were soft, and smelled like Leorio. They were safe. Kurapika had to keep himself from curling up and falling asleep right there. He smiled, small and reserved. Leorio smiled back.
“So,” he said, “Want to tell me what’s going on?”
“Not particularly,” Kurapika said, as he tentatively sat on the edge of the bed. Leorio raised an eyebrow, and that was all it took for him to cave. “I killed someone.”
“Yeah, I figured.”
Kurapika looked up at him, wide eyed.
Leorio gave him a What do you take me for? expression, and said, “You called me in the middle of the night, covered in blood, asking for a ride. Of course you killed someone.”
“I-” Kurapika almost laughed. What had he done to deserve a friend like this?
“Were they a Spider?”
“Yes,” he said, “He was there, at the massacre.”
That same, unreadable expression came over Leorio’s face again. Kurapika wished he knew what it meant; if it was disgust, or something else. Leorio put his book on a side table, and joined him on the bed.
“One hell of a night, huh?”
This time Kurapika did laugh. The tears came soon after.
“I hated it,” he said, “It made me sick.”
Leorio nodded sagely, “Death usually does.”
“But I cannot stop.”
“I don’t expect you to.”
Kurapika looked at him, angry.
“How are you okay with this?” he demanded.
Leorio’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“Who says I am?”
“You-” Kurapika’s nails dug ugly crescent moons into his palms, “You are sitting next to a murderer! And you say you do not expect me to stop! How are you not disgusted? Why do you keep-”
His own sobs cut off his rant, hiccupping his sentence to a stop. He curled in on himself, pulling his knees into his chest, and hanging his head between them. He wretched, but there was nothing left in his stomach.
“Kurapika!” said Leorio. He was off the bed, and kneeling in front of him. “Calm down.”
Hands wrap around Kurapika’s wrists, pulling them away from his face. Leorio massaged his palms until his fists unclenched. When he’s sure Kurapika was no longer hurting himself, he began wiping away the tears.
“Why?” Kurapika cried, leaning forward into the touch.
Leorio’s hands were so warm. No one had touched him like this in over five years. No one had touched him at all, save for getting his ass kicked, but he hardly thought that counted. Now here was Leorio, thumbs brushing gently under his eyes. It was so tender it made him ache. Leorio tucked some loose hair behind his ear, cleaning up his face. Kurapika had just shouted at him, and he was still here. It was the last straw.
Kurapika slid down the edge of the bed, toppling forward into Leorio’s lap. Leorio was bigger than him, obviously, but he’d never made him feel small until now. It wasn’t a bad smallness. He felt safe, protected, like Leorio was a shield keeping out all the filth in the world. Except his. He looked at Kurapika’s filth, and helped him clean it. He let him curl into his chest, and dirty his shirt, while he combed through his hair with deliberate hands.
“Because you’re finally letting me,” Leorio said. He cradled him, letting him fall apart and keeping a diligent eye on the pieces, so they would all be there when he was ready to put himself back together again. “I take care of my friends, Kurapika. You’re my closest friend, I’m happy to take care of you.”
You’re my closest friend… Kurapika wanted to sob. And for once in his Goddamn life, he let himself. I’m happy to take care of you. He coughed and gasped and hiccupped into Leorio’s chest, thoroughly ruining his shirt. For the first time since his mother, he clung.
“I am sorry,” he cried, “I am so sorry. I am so sorry.”
Leorio hushed him, rubbing circles into his back.
“You don’t have to apologize to me.”