Work Text:
The first thing he did was take the phone and call him. It was natural, almost expected. He needed an explanation, even if the note lying on the kitchen table was pretty clear.
«… where I go, you can’t follow. I’ll be okay, don’t try to contact me.»
Typical of him, but still rather rude.
He knew that probably wasn’t meant to sound unkind; everything was—heed Kurapika’s words—for ‘his own protection.’
Yet, he always took Kurapika’s orders as mere suggestions rather than anything else. He needed to draw the line somewhere and make him understand he couldn’t do as he pleased every time he felt like it. That’s not how relationships work!
“I’m not available right now. Leave a message if you feel like it.”
Leorio sighed. Even the voice message sounded like it was recorded just for him. He knew he wasn’t getting much more than that, but it was worth the effort.
“You bastard! Call me, we need to talk,” he ordered, as if Kurapika would even listen to him. If Leoro had the power to command him, he wouldn’t have left like that in the first place.
He waited a few hours to give him time to listen to his message, bargain his decision, and call him back. Knowing Kurapika’s stubbornness, it might take a while, but if Leorio had something, it was patience.
Three hours later, he took the phone again.
“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…” Leorio mumbled as his knee went up and down rapidly.
“I’m not available right now. Leave a message if you feel like it.”
“Answer me! Damn you!” Leorio’s yell was followed by the low bang of the cellphone hitting against the couch.
He thought of leaving a message; if Kurapika didn’t want to hear from him, then too bad! He grabbed the phone one more time and dialed the number. Oh, that was it! Kurapika was never going to hear the end of this.
As the beep of Kurapika’s phone ringing filled his ears, Leorio started thinking about how he was going to begin his lecture. Scolding him? Or perhaps playing the emotional card in order to make him feel like the little shit he was.
“I’m not available right now. Leave a message if you feel like it.”
Leorio breathed deeply to catch his breath; nevertheless, he could not speak a word.
He didn’t want to speak to him over the voicemail; that was going to be a one-sided conversation. The probabilities of Kurapika replying were scarce, if not null.
The only thing he could do was beg. Beg him to call him or send him a message, some kind of proof that he was alive and well, that he was real, that they were real.
“Hey… call me. I’m worried about you.” Defeated, he hung up.
Leorio continued to call on a regular basis for the following couple of weeks, until he had it.
It was easy to ignore a phone call; maybe it was time to step up his game.
He was going to fill his voicemail with pleas and screams until Kurapika got tired of him and answered the bloody phone!
“I’m not available right now. Leave a message if you feel like it.”
Boy, did he feel like it!
“Hey, it’s been like… I don’t know, two weeks?” Leorio sighed, “Are you eating well? Can you please call me back? Anyway, see ya.”
Blunt. Not too kind. That would do.
“I’m not available right now. Leave a message if you feel like it.”
“Hi, it’s me again. I haven’t heard from you yet, but since your phone is still alive, I gather you are alright. Call me back, please.”
That was probably leading nowhere, but at least he tried.
“I’m not available right now. Leave a message if you feel like it.”
“Are you injured? Or death? You’d better be, or I’ll kill you myself. You must have a fucking good reason to ignore my phone calls. Call me back, please.”
As if Kurapika needed one to do that.
“I’m not available right now. Leave a message if you feel like it.”
“Hey there, sunshine! It’s been officially two months since you abandoned me and the boys. That’s gotta be some kind of record! Call me back, please.”
Maybe a little attitude would suffice.
“I’m not available right now. Leave a message if you feel like it.”
“Enough is enough, Pika. Call me back, please.”
Day after day, Leorio called at different times. Sometimes he left messages, long or short, depending on his mood or when he needed to relieve himself from some haunting thoughts; other times, he just let the phone ring and then hung up—on those occasions when he only wanted to hear Kurapika’s voice, even if it were only those cold and unemotional words.
“I’m not available right now. Leave a message if you feel like it.”
Before Leorio knew it, almost a year had passed. The sporadic desperate calls became a routine: twice a day, more if he was having a bad day, or if he missed him particularly. He had started to use the phone calls as some kind of therapy.
He needed to get something off his chest?
Call Kurapika.
He wanted to discuss something out loud to think better?
Call Kurapika.
Needed a good talk?
Call Kurapika.
Feeling blue and lonely?
Call Kurapika.
The solution always seemed to be calling Kurapika. So cathartic and addictive to hear his voice over the phone, it had become like a drug. Even if he didn’t get a reply, even if he wasn’t sure his messages were being delivered. There was someone on the side of the line, that was for sure, for it continued to be active and the voicemail was never full.
That was the only thing that kept Leorio going.
Even in his absence, the answer to everything wrong was still Kurapika.
✺ ✺ ✺
The phone rang again. He was almost completely sure who it was; still, he checked just in case. He sighed and proceeded to ignore the call.
“Sorry, you were saying?” Kurapika left the phone over the desk, without giving it much importance.
“You should answer, I don’t mind,” replied Senritsu. Usually she remained silent; Kurapika was too stubborn; her words would probably do little to change his mind. But his phone had been particularly annoying that day.
“It’s okay, I’ll manage later.”
“It doesn’t look like it.”
Kurapika raised his eyebrows and blinked rapidly.
“If it’s important, they’ll call back,” he added, to soften Senritsu’s growing dissatisfaction.
“I imagine it is, since he always does.”
He.
There was no point in pretending they both didn’t know who the calls were from.
Kurapika let out a long and loud sigh.
“Later.”
She really was going to punch him in the face one of these days.
“You don’t need to tell him where you are or what you’re doing. Just tell him you’re alright. That’s all he wants to know.”
“No!” Kurapika’s hand slammed on the table, startling Senritsu. He breathed deeply to calm himself. “At first it would be that,” he said quietly, “then it would be: Where are you? What are you doing? How can I help you? And I—"
“You don’t want his help,” interrupted Senritsu, so peacefully and naturally, as was usual for her, as if it were evident.
Kurapika stared at her, wet eyes on the edge of crying. In times like that, he hated how much Senritsu could see through him. He swallowed with difficulty; he was not crying now.
“I want him to be safe,” he stated with resolve. “I want him to be free from danger. To focus on his studies so he can finish his career! Is that wrong?!”
“And did you tell him that? Or did you make the decision by yourself? As you always do.” Kurapika’s eyes widened; staring back at Senritsu, she had crossed a line. She looked away briefly, cleared her throat, and changed her tone. “All I’m saying is you should call him back. He doesn’t deserve this.”
“If I call him back, I’ll never hear the end of this. I need to focus on my mission.” Kurapika turned his face to the desk, trying to put an end to the conversation.
Senritsu exhaled. She’ll let him win this for today.
“Alright, do what you want.”
Kurapika rolled his eyes slowly towards her and raised an eyebrow.
“But…”
“But?” Senritsu asked confused.
“Yeah, there’s always a but here.”
Senritsu smiled slightly. She could read him like a book, but so could he.
“But… think about it,” she said, setting her hand on top of his with her characteristic kindness. “People are not like buses. They don’t come along every five minutes.”
Kurapika's gaze toughened.
“You don’t need to tell me that,” he stated firmly, though not rudely. “That’s why I want him to keep him safe.”
✺ ✺ ✺
Leorio went outside to grab some fresh air; he was particularly bored and down. He couldn’t seem to focus on anything at all; he stared at the same page of his Harrison's Principles of Internal Medicine textbook for a whole hour trying to make sense of a single sentence before giving up entirely. There were random words on a piece of paper, and every letter reminded him of Kurapika. Then he thought of making himself something to eat; perhaps once he had eaten, everything would be better, though a burnt sandwich wasn’t what he had in mind at all. If Kurapika had made the sandwich, it probably would have looked similar.
Leorio cursed internally as he clicked his tongue. When had he become that useless and awkward?
He sighed, grabbing his cellphone and staring at it blankly, as if he had broken a self-imposed limit. He had already called three times that day, without any luck—obviously. Yet, there he was, tempted to call one more time.
Not because he thought Kurapika would answer this time, or because he wanted to leave a message, but rather because he wanted to hear his voice, just for the sake of it.
The phone rang a few times. Leorio braced himself for the well-known voicemail. Except this time, his phone call was answered.
Not a single word, but the soft sound of the environment that surrounded the device.
Leorio widened his gaze; he was not expecting that!
A million things went through his head; he thought of the best course of action: What was he going to say? How was he going to sail through this unexpected and special phenomenon that might not repeat again in the short-term future?
His nervousness grew with every second passed without a reply from the other side of the line.
“Hello?” Leorio said, confused. Did Kurapika push the wrong button or something? Why was he quiet!? The silence was killing him.
On the other side of the line, Kurapika was struggling to keep himself together.
He had answered the phone, like Senritsu had asked him so insistently. Not with a specific plan in mind, just by mere impulse.
He thought of saying something, but he restrained himself. Where would he begin? Apologizing? Explaining? All seemed like a bad idea, not to mention Leorio would ask a million questions at the time. Not that he could blame him for it; it was expected and understandable.
Nevertheless, his heart had whispered a few suggestions:
«I've listened to all your voicemails, I play them every night. Please, don’t stop.»
How could he say something like that after inflicting so much pain? For a ‘good cause,’ maybe, but still. He was impulsive and stubborn, reckless more often than not. Yet, at that very moment, fear was keeping him from saying anything.
He wasn’t afraid of Leorio’s reaction; on the contrary, he would probably take anything he threw at him.
He was afraid of himself.
Afraid of what could happen next by keeping Leorio so close to him. Afraid that this time, Leorio had had enough. Afraid of following his heart and then having to face the catastrophic consequences that may follow. Afraid of losing him forever, of taking away his life, just because he couldn’t stay away.
“Kurapika? Are you there?”
Leorio’s voice made Kurapika squeeze his eyes. He bit his tongue and covered his mouth to not make a single sound.
“Hello?” Leorio repeated, the anguish in his voice increasing. “Kurapika?”
Leorio could stand a million unanswered calls, but a silent one was absolute horror. Knowing Kurapika was there but decided not to speak a word drove him insane. This was the closest he had been to him in more than a year, and yet, it made no difference from all the ignored phone calls and endless voicemails.
“Are you there, sunshine?” Leorio’s voice broke a bit. Kurapika tried to keep his tears from escaping his eyes but failed. “Answer me! Damn you!” Leorio yelled, losing the little patience he had left, breaking down as he hadn’t done until now. It was relieving to let his feelings flow freely.
Kurapika thought of hanging up, but he was too hurt to do anything. Why was he doing that to both of them? Maybe as a way of punishing himself, to force himself to witness all the pain he had inflicted on his loved one. Typical of him.
“I… I miss you…” Leorio mumbled. He was about to hang up until a voice on the other side of the line stopped him.
“Just a little longer, Leorio.”
He stopped breathing for a second. It was his voice. Not a recording, not his imagination. It was actually Kurapika. The way he had pronounced his name, with that rhythmic manner only Kurapika could do, tasting with his tongue every single syllable of it. So characteristic of him, so beautiful.
Before he could speak a reply, Kurapika ended the call. Leorio stood still for a few minutes, still processing what had just happened.
There was hope.
Even if he had only spoken five words, it was enough to assure him that everything was going to be okay. Not now, not tomorrow, but soon enough. Those simple five words were more important than any explanation or apology Leorio could have asked for.
Kurapika put his phone away. He took a deep breath before going inside. He had avoided Leorio’s babbling and endless questions; now he wanted to avoid Senritsu’s interrogatory that would certainly follow if she ever saw him like that.
He wiped away his tears. That was not what he wanted to do, nor what he had planned. His heart would have engaged in a conversation with Leorio full of pleas and promises; his reason told him to hang up immediately, for he shouldn’t have answered in the first place. But Kurapika decided on a secret third option, a medium point.
He would stay away; he would sacrifice his heart’s desires in order to keep what was most precious to him. But not to the point of risking losing Leorio for good. A balance he never thought of before; even if it was not perfect, it was enough.
It’d have to.