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The only source of light in the room was the round ceiling light, shining on a lounge area, yellow walls, red floor, a king-sized bed, and a desk. The room looked exactly like a hotel room from Yorknew, and everything seemed normal, except for the grey void outside the balcony and the fact that the room possessed no door. Where there should be a door was a wall, all plain and clean, with a post-it note stuck to it, saying tell each other a secret if you want to get out.
There was no exit. The room was probably made of Nen and was not located in the material world. If only he could use the dowsing chain, Kurapika thought. But that was impossible because he was forced into a state of Zetsu by some unknown rules of this room.
It had been 12 hours since he was brought here, and he still hadn’t found a way out. He wondered how Oito, Prince Woble, and Bill were doing. There were too many things to be done, he needed to end the Succession War, he needed to get close to Prince Tserriednich, he needed to give Nen lessons, and—
“And I’m beat. Let’s take a break.”
A voice said, breaking Kurapika out of his chain of thoughts.
Kurapika lifted his gaze and saw Leorio, his fellow prisoner. Leorio was in a doctor’s white coat, instead of his signature navy suit. He looked younger when he was not wearing his tea shades. (And Kurapika was wearing a black suit. Even the contrasting colors were telling of the paths they chose: Kurapika a path down to underground business, revenge, and self-destruction, and Leorio a path of welldoing and greatness.)
He didn’t want a break. He needed to go back to the Black Whale and continue his missions.
The two of them had searched the room thoroughly. Moved the sofa in the lounge area. Crawled under the bed. Checked the sink, the toilet, the bathtub, behind the mirror. Tried to break the walls and windows. Climbed up to check the ceiling, using Leorio as a ladder. Anything and everything. They couldn’t break a single item in the room, and outside it was a vast sea of void they couldn’t see through.
Nothing could get them out of here.
Except, there was still something they hadn’t tried yet.
“Tell me a secret, Leorio,” Kurapika said. He moved to the bed to sit down, and after reaching his destination, he suddenly felt so tired, so he lied down on the soft quilt, both hands on his belly, gazing up at the ceiling.
In the best case, they could leave here; in the worst case, he would know a secret of Leorio and Leorio would know a secret of his. What could possibly go wrong?
Leorio just laughed. “What, do you want to know the color of my underwear?”
“That hardly qualifies as a secret.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to know it. It doesn’t count as a secret if it means nothing to me.”
“Fine,” Leorio grumbled. “But I couldn’t think of anything to tell you that you don’t already know. Okay, wait, wait. Maybe there is.”
“Tell me, then.”
Leorio rolled over to lie side by side with him on the bed. “Why don’t you tell me your secret first? The note says we have to tell each other a secret.”
“I refuse.”
“Just tell me, and I’ll tell you mine.”
“No.”
“Okay, then. There’s only one way to settle this,” Leorio said, solemnly.
“Which is?”
“Rock paper scissors.”
Kurapika snorted at that.
“One of us lost a rock paper scissors game at the Trick Tower and cost everyone a precious total of 50 hours in the Hunter Exam. And that was not me. Can you guess who that is?”
Leorio was silent for a moment, and then he said, “What Trick Tower? Never heard of it.”
For a tiny little second, Kurapika forgot about their situation completely. He broke into a smile, albeit a tiny one, and he saw Leorio mirroring his smile, looking genuinely happy and proud.
Being with this man sometimes made Kurapika feel like his energetic, carefree 12-year-old self—who had been strangled to death by Kurapika himself and buried 6 feet under along with all the other Kurtas.
Leorio would be a great doctor, Kurapika thought to himself bittersweetly. For he could even bring back a ghost.
To cut off his thoughts he used scissors, winning him the choice to go second against Leorio’s paper.
Leorio scoffed at his own right hand, while Kurapika told him, “You go first, then.”
“Okay, fine.”
Leorio sit up from the bed, took a long, deep breath to prepare himself, and Kurapika waited.
Leorio took a deep breath again.
Leorio took a deep breath again.
Leorio took—
“Are you going to—”
Kurapika snapped, and at the exact same moment Leorio blurted, “I think I like you.”
Seeing no reactions from Kurapika, Leorio quickly added, “I think I like you. A lot. In a way a friend shouldn’t.”
Still too shocked, Kurapika could only reply in a single syllable, “Oh.” He was never met with such a situation. And although he had read a lot of books, none of them gave any instructions on how to handle it. (Yes he had read romance novels, but those were fiction.)
And for a minute or so, there was only silence.
Leorio became visibly nervous as the silence dragged on. Finally, he tried to make some amends. “Can I just—. I’ll take that back.”
“No,” was Kurapika’s instinctive response.
If someone asked whether or not he wanted to know Leorio’s feelings towards him right now, his answer would be yes. He felt protective over those words already, wanting to take and hide them in a chest, or somewhere safe, in the same way he kept all Leorio’s voice messages so he could replay them again and again and again.
And then it struck him, like lightning in the middle of the night, that maybe he liked Leorio, too.
He closed his eyes and pictured it, his brain running at full capacity.
He thought of kissing and hugging and having sex with Leorio, and it surprised him that he didn’t find it uncomfortable.
He thought of having a life with Leorio. He could move in with him, into Leorio’s top-floor apartment, with tons of books (both his and Leorio’s) scattered everywhere and an extensive night view. They could eat breakfast together and watch boring TV programs late into the night, snugged against each other. He could kiss Leorio goodbye at the door when Leorio went to work in the morning. They could even adopt a dog. They could invite Gon, Killua, Senritsu, and Mizai to their home. (Their home, Kurapika liked the sound of it.) He could easily give shape to this life. Everything was simple, loving Leorio, being loved by him. Maybe it was because of Leorio, who had the magic power to make things easy.
Or maybe, it was because Kurapika had already fallen in love with this handsome, kind, brave soon-to-be doctor, without knowing it.
Kurapika pushed away all his thoughts, and found himself locking eyes with the round-shaped ceiling light. It was red. Everything Kurapika saw was red, because for a moment it felt real, and he felt happy, even though that life with Leorio was just a made-up one.
He waited until the red subsided, and said, “I’m sorry.”
“Nah, I’m the one who should be sorry, I’m making things weir—”
He had to interrupt Leorio’s babbling, “Listen to me, Leorio.”
Leorio shut up immediately, looking at him with—hope, fear, confusion, slightly frowning. Kurapika wanted to kiss that frown away, but he couldn’t. It was not the time for that. It was the time to rip off the band-aid.
“When I’m in the state of Emperor Time, it was one hour for one second.”
“One hour for one second?”
“That means, with each second passed when I’m using Emperor Time, it took an hour away from my lifespan.”
And Kurapika watched as the words sunk in, Leorio’s expression turned from confusion to shock to anger, before finally settling into imploration.
“How many, how many seconds have you used?” he asked. “How many hours do you have left?”
“I do not know.”
“How—”
“I just don’t.”
“Are you crazy or what?! Why would you— Why did you choose such conditions for your ability?”
“It was not my choice,” Kurapika said calmly, feeling strangely out of his body. And in his life there was nothing more true than this simple statement: It was not his choice. He had to avenge his clan, he had to take on the Phantom Troupe, he had to be strong and clever enough to fight all by himself, he had to retrieve all the Scarlet Eyes, he had to. And he had no choice.
“At least you can choose not to use it!”
Kurapika didn’t answer that.
“What’re you thinking, don’t you know that—, do you really think the things you do or whatever are more important than—” Your life. And because they both knew Kurapika’s answer, Leorio stopped midsentence to take a few deep breaths to steady himself.
“And I want to make it clear that even if you tried to stop me or convince me to stop, it wouldn’t work,” Kurapika said.
Leorio, now deflated, murmured, “Yeah. I know that.”
“And that’s what I’m sorry for. That’s the reason why I can’t choose to be with you.”
“Forget about my stupid unrequited feelings. You—There must be some way to undo it. Or extend your lifespan, or whatever. There must be something,” Leorio said.
“There’s nothing that can help me.”
“You don’t know that. We’re going to the Dark Continent. That herb thing that can cure all illnesses? Maybe it could heal you. And there may be other medicines. There must be. I will find a cure.”
“Don’t do that,” Kurapika said firmly. Don’t do that for me, was what he was trying to say. He was prepared for everything, except for his friends getting hurt, especially Leorio, and especially because of him.
“Oh yeah?” Leorio smirked. “I want to make it clear, that even if you tried to stop me, or convince me to stop, it wouldn’t work.”
And Kurapika knew Leorio meant it, just like how he himself meant it. He couldn’t help but huff out a soft sigh, with only a tiny bit of fondness, “Leorio…”
As if the room sensed his resignation, a door appeared on the wall beside the lounge area, the sound of it creaking open a wordless summon.
They both stood up, but Kurapika tugged at Leorio’s sleeve to stop him, because he needed to clarify something.
“They were not unrequited,” Kurapika said, trying to be as casual as possible.
“What?”
“Your feelings,” Kurapika felt his cheeks flush a little, and he blamed Leorio for being such an idiot who made him say it aloud. “I think I see you as more than a friend, too.”
And this time it was Leorio’s turn to emit a single, “Oh.”
“You hear what I said.”
“I think we should talk about this.”
“After we get out of this room, and after we survive the trip, yes.”
“Is that a promise that you’ll keep yourself alive until we get back from the Dark Continent?”
Kurapika paused. Chose his words carefully. “I’ll try my best.”
“Then that’s what all I need.”
The door was right in front of them. Kurapika stood there, examined the wooden door and the tunnel outside that looked like a corridor on the third floor of the Black Whale. He was ready to leave, but then, because he missed Leorio already, and because he felt powerful and fearless, and because he could, Kurapika turned around, took a step forward and kissed the man in front of him.
It was tentative and chaste. And Leorio was kissing back, calloused hands on Kurapika’s face, with immense tenderness and carefulness, like he was holding a long-forgotten memory, or a dream that was about to end.
Kurapika was the one to break away. He walked into the tunnel, without looking back.