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A beautiful, peaceful morning. That was your first thought when you opened your eyes to sunlight streaming through your window. As you ate breakfast, staring outside, something about the stillness made you want to do something calm—something gentle.
A picnic.
The idea blooms in your mind like one of those spring flowers in the forest nearby.
But admittedly, going on a picnic alone sounded really, really boring—not to mention kind of sad. Did you even have anyone who’d want to come with you?
So you thought, Who would actually want to come with me?
And then it hit you — Kurapika. Who else in your friend group needed a peaceful escape more than your constantly stressed, overworked friend?
So with that in mind, you decide to call him.
Honestly, you expected a refusal, you didn’t even think he’d pick up your call. He always turned down plans like this, too wrapped up in missions or obligations. For a second, your finger hovered over the call button, debating whether to even try.
But then you remembered the last time you saw him—how he paused, shoulders heavy, and murmured, “I don’t even remember the last time I had a real break.” Maybe… just maybe, he needed this more than he’d admit.
And then — he said yes.
You blink, confused. You weren’t sure you heard that correctly.
After picking a meeting spot, you head to the store for picnic essentials. The cute basket at home is ready — you just need food.
Since Kurapika agreed to come, you make it your mission to find everything he likes. Or... everything you can remember.
After you finish all the preparations, you pack your basket and start walking toward the forest. It’s not far from your home. And besides, walking in this kind of weather is something you really enjoy.
You step into the forest, and the world softens. Sunlight trickles through the leaves like gold dust. The scent of moss and damp earth fills the air. Twigs crunch beneath your feet, and somewhere in the distance, a bird calls.
The forest feels alive—but peaceful. Like it’s holding its breath just for you.
You’re suddenly torn from your daze when you hear someone call your name.
Right — you invited Kurapika. And of course, he’s punctual.
There, standing in a sunlit patch under a big tree, is Kurapika.
As always, he looks… exhausted. The shadows under his gray eyes have become a familiar sight. And yet, he still manages to look graceful—effortless, really. Dressed in his usual blue tribal robes over white, he seems more like a painting than a person.
You haven’t seen him in weeks — not since his last mission. Honestly, you expected him to look worse. But aside from the tired eyes, he looks healthy. Physically, at least.
“Hey, Kurapika!” you call, jogging over to him.
“Hi, (Y/N),” he says, offering a small smile. It almost reaches his eyes.
You chuckle at his nonchalant tone.
“Honestly, I expected you to look a lot worse,” you say, trying to keep it light — but your eyes linger on his tired features.
He raises an eyebrow. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, silly. Just… I’m glad you’re here.”
Kurapika watches in silence as you unpack the picnic basket.
You toss the folded blanket at him with a grin. “Are you just going to stand there and supervise, or what?”
He catches it with a small start, then chuckles softly — a rare sound.
“You’re quite energetic today.”
“Definitely more energetic than you,” you quip, laying out the food. “You looked ready to collapse when you got here.”
After setting up, you two finally sit down.
“I tried bringing all your favorite foods,” you say proudly, gesturing to the spread.
Kurapika blinks, clearly surprised. “You… remembered?”
“Of course I did! I mean, it’s probably been forever since you’ve done anything like this. I wanted to make it special.”
His expression softens. “I’m… grateful, (Y/N). Truly. You didn’t have to go to such lengths.”
“Sure I did. You work too hard. Somebody has to pamper you.”
You grin at him. “Come on, eat up!”
You spend the first half hour enjoying the peace of the forest while eating together.
After your meal, you both sit in quiet contentment. Kurapika was never one for idle conversation, so you usually filled the silence. But this time, you don’t. Sitting here, sharing this peace, is more than enough.
Kurapika’s voice breaks the stillness. “This place is beautiful,” he murmurs.
There’s a pause. His eyes are distant now. “It… reminds me of home.”
Your breath catches. He rarely talks about his past—and when he does, it’s never this gently.
“Really?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.
He nods. “The forest I grew up in had more flowers, more wildlife… it was larger. Wilder. But something about the light here—it feels the same.”
You glance around, seeing the scene through his memory now. “I saw some wildflowers earlier. Maybe they’re the same kind.”
“Perhaps,” he says quietly. “But they don’t smell the same.”
A few minutes of comfortable silence pass.
“Would you like to go for a walk, (Y/N)?” he asks shyly.
“I would love to! We do need to burn off those calories,” you joke. Kurapika chuckles.
You both walk deeper into the forest, the path narrowing beneath a canopy of trees. Kurapika talks more than usual.
He tells you about his most recent mission—how draining it was, how long it dragged on. You listen, letting him vent without judgment.
Then, his tone softens.
“This forest,” he says, “reminds me of where I used to play with Pairo. We would chase each other for hours.”
You smile, imagining a small, wide-eyed Kurapika darting between trunks, laughter echoing through the trees.
“You must’ve been a handful,” you tease gently.
He chuckles low. “I suppose I was.”
At one point, you challenge him to a game of tag—and almost instantly regret it.
He’s faster than you remembered, more graceful. He dodges you effortlessly, laughter escaping him more than once.
You collapse against a tree, breathless. “You’re cheating. You’re literally trained for this!”
Kurapika leans on a trunk, panting slightly. “You issued the challenge,” he says, smiling—actually smiling.
And for a second, you forget everything else. You just want to freeze this moment.
Suddenly, Kurapika stops you.
“Wait here. I would like to show you something,” he says.
“Where are you going?” you ask, uncertainty in your voice.
“You’ll see. Just be patient.”
You watch him disappear into the trees. Minutes stretch longer than expected. What is he doing? Earlier, you’d noticed him glancing at wildflowers along the path, but you hadn’t thought much of it at the time. But what does that have to do with that now?
Just as you’re about to call out, you see him return—hands behind his back, a curious spark in his eyes.
“You got me all worried, you know,” you say with an exaggerated pout.
“I apologize,” he says softly. “But I think you’ll like what I made.”
“Made?”
“Close your eyes.”
You hesitate, but do as asked. A moment later, you feel his hands gently parting your hair. His fingers brush your temple—careful, precise. The air feels still.
Your heartbeat quickens.
“Okay,” he whispers. “You can open them.”
He holds up his phone, showing a photo. It’s you—wearing a flower crown of woven pink and purple blossoms.
You blink. “You made this?”
Kurapika nods, looking slightly away. “I used to make them often… when I was a child. I never forgot how.”
You touch the crown lightly, as if it might disappear. “It’s beautiful.”
“I’m glad you like it,” he says. “It suits you.”
You glance away, heart fluttering. “I… I really love spending time with you, you know?”
He goes still. “You do?”
His voice is soft, almost unsure. You meet his eyes—and for once, he doesn’t look away.
“Of course I do.” You smile faintly, voice quieter now. “That’s why I invited you.”
The silence stretches, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable. It feels like something new—something fragile.
Your pulse quickens. Why does this feel like a confession?
“We should do this more often, I enjoy spending time with you as well.” Kurapika murmurs.
“We definitely should!” you exclaim. “I’ll bring you to a very beautiful area in this forest as a thank you for this pretty crown. Follow me!”
After a short hike, the trees open up to reveal a hidden pond—still and glassy, perfectly reflecting the stars above. The moonlight glows on its surface like silver ink.
Tiny pink and white flowers grow along the edge, rustling in the soft breeze. A couple of fireflies blink lazily over the water.
“It’s… breathtaking,” Kurapika murmurs. He steps forward, hands slipping into his sleeves, and stares at the reflection like it’s a memory.
“I thought you might like it,” you say quietly.
You both sit by the water’s edge, close enough that your shoulders nearly touch. The silence is calm—full, not empty.
“It’s prettier at night,” you whisper. “The water turns into a mirror. Like the stars are right here on the ground with us.”
Kurapika hums in agreement. “It’s peaceful. I could stay here for a while.”
As you sit together in the stillness, you think about how glad you are that he said yes.
You’ve never seen Kurapika this relaxed before. Never heard him laugh like that. Never seen him smile so easily.
You want to preserve this version of him — keep it tucked away like a pressed flower in a book.
And so, with clumsy fingers, you begin to weave your own little flower crown for him.
You’re not sure it’ll come out right, but somehow… that doesn’t matter. All that matters is that he’s here with you.