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Surprisingly, it’s Gon who shows up first.
It’s been— god, what, three years? Four?— he’s gotten taller, stronger somehow. Leorio catches the faintest hint of weariness around his eyes, and then it’s gone, and then Gon is letting his backpack fall to the floor, he is jumping into Leorio’s arms, he’s talking a mile a minute— far too fast for Leorio to keep up.
“Slooooow down,” Leorio says, laughing, pulling the kid inside, but he can’t help his own questions from coming out now, just as fast. “Where have you been? Did you just get into town? Are you here to stay? Where’s Killua? You’re staying with me, right?”
“I got off the train, like, 8 minutes ago,” Gon says, muffled into Leorio’s shoulder. “I was going to call but I couldn’t wait! I have— I don’t have a lot of stuff— is it really okay if I stay with you?”
“Of course it’s okay,” Leorio says, detaching himself and picking up Gon’s pack. “There’s a guest room down the hall and to the right.”
Gon beams and jets off, all traces of tiredness gone. When he comes back into the living room, only a minute later, he has a weird look on his face.
“There’s two beds,” he says.
“Yeah,” Leorio says, waving a hand, “you know. I thought— if Killua wanted, he could— ”
Gon launches himself back into Leorio’s arms.
***
The change in him is subtle enough, but it’s there. Killua must know it, Leorio thinks, and if Kurapika were here— it’s subtle. It’s expected. No kid can go through the things Gon went through and come out on the other side unchanged. Leorio gives him the space he needs. He doesn’t push. Gon isn’t exactly a kid who needs a lot of alone time, but they talk around the elephants for a while.
“Hey,” Gon says one day, peeking his head into Leorio’s study. “Do you ever sit on the roof?”
“I never sit on the roof,” Leorio says.
“Do you want to sit on the roof?”
Leorio closes his book. “Let’s sit on the roof,” he says.
They make sandwiches and sit side by side, the shingles digging into Leorio’s legs. Gon pulls his knees up to his chin and watches the sky for a long time.
“Ging and I went up to the tallest tree in the world,” he finally says.
“That must have been nice,” Leorio says, evenly. “How tall, exactly?”
“Like… 2,000 meters tall. So tall— you couldn’t even see the city anymore. It was just sky for miles and miles.”
Leorio nods and takes a bite of his sandwich.
“He told me you punched him,” Gon says.
Leorio chokes on his sandwich. “It was a spur of the moment thing,” he says when he’s recovered.
“I know,” Gon laughs. “He said your nen ability was cool.”
Leorio gives Gon a sidelong glance, then takes another careful bite of sandwich. “Really.”
“Uh huh. He said a lot of things. We talked for hours— mostly about the adventures we’d been on. Ging’s not finished with his adventures, and I think I feel the same. The same but… different, too.”
“What do you mean?”
“I want to see the world,” Gon nods, still looking ahead. “I want to go everywhere, and I want to meet cool new people, and discover new species, and eat new foods. But I don’t want— ” his brows knit together, looking thoughtful. “I missed— being all the way up in the sky, I just kept thinking that… sometimes the best part of having an adventure is having it with someone. Or knowing that there’s somewhere to go when you’re done. And I thought about Kil, and how different my adventure would have been without him. Or without you and Kurapika. I think that’s the difference between Ging and me— like— he’s so busy looking forward that he never thinks of looking back.”
“But you do,” Leorio says, gently. “It’s not a flaw to have people you love in your life.”
“That’s right,” Gon nods, and his voice is bright again. “Aunt Mito and I talked about that, too. I think she knows that Whale Island can’t be my home anymore— but it always will be, in a way. Just like— ” He gestures around him and then stops, blushes.
“Hey,” Leorio bumps Gon’s shoulder with his. “Always. That’s not even a question, you hear me?”
“Okay,” Gon says. The breeze around them is cool and comforting, and he can smell honeysuckle from the bushes below. He smiles.
***
Voicemail: Hey, sunshine. You’ll never guess who showed up. Or— well, it’s not that hard to guess, actually— it’s Gon— Gon’s here! He’s all in one piece and seems relatively healthy, although I think we’ve got some work to do in the coming months. Not that I’m a shrink or anything, but you know— he’s been through the ringer. I thought he’d want to stay with his dad, but the guy’s such a jerk I don’t blame him for being disappointed. Or, I guess he’s disappointed— I don’t know. He didn’t say. He calls him Ging, though— never “dad.” Kind of makes me sad, you know? Hope you’re okay. Drink some water.
***
It isn’t long after that when the doorbell rings again, and Leorio opens it to two more teens.
“Sup, old man?” Killua says, as casual as ever, but there’s a gleam in his eye.
“Hey,” Leorio says coolly, and waits, very patiently, as Killua slowly leans forward— hands in his pockets— and presses his forehead into Leorio’s shoulder.
“You must be Alluka,” Leorio says over Killua’s head. He only knows her from the occasional group chat photo but she’s family, and he opens up an arm for her to fit into, if she chooses to.
She does.
“Alright,” Leorio says, steering both Zoldycks into the house. “Let’s get you two fed, and— ”
“I HEARD VOICES,” Gon yells, barreling into the living room and then into the three of them— everyone now enveloped in a bone-crushing hug. Someone, probably Killua, says “grrofff of me!” and someone, probably Alluka, giggles, and someone else, definitely Leorio, untangles himself from the mess of limbs before they all collapse into a heap on the ground.
“This is unmanageable,” he mumbles.
“Yeah, old man,” Killua says, wrestling Gon to the ground, “you’ve got your work cut out for you now.”
***
Nanika likes the Home Shopping Network.
Because Leorio had not planned for three kids, he relinquishes his room to Alluka and takes the couch in the days that it takes to empty his study for her.
“Please don’t do that,” Alluka says, worriedly, hands at her mouth.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Leorio says. “Girls need their own space. I can’t have you stuck in there with Gon and Killua, who I know for a fact wear the same socks three days in a row.”
“Ew,” Alluka laughs, wrinkling her nose. “But I could take the couch, and you— ”
“No.”
Leorio takes the couch, which is how he discovers that Nanika likes the Home Shopping Network. Shy at first, she creeps into the room past midnight, and quietly turns on the TV while Leorio is asleep. Someone has left the volume on very loud .
He wakes up, and she scares the shit out of him.
“Hey, whoa,” he says once he’s recovered, sitting up, rubbing his eyes. “You can’t just sneak up on sleeping people like that. What if I thought you were an intruder?”
Nanika looks at Leorio with those big, empty eyes, and hangs her head. Her shoulder slump.
“None of that either,” Leorio says, reaching for her hand. “Come sit next to me if you want to watch the— uh— the— ” he squints at the screen— “wow, is that an air fryer? I’ve been meaning to look into those.”
Nanika stands where she is, one hand limply in Leorio’s.
“Don’t be upset,” Leorio says, gently. “Let’s start over. I’m Leorio.”
Nanika seems to consider this, and then slowly looks up at him. “Hi,” she says.
“Hi,” Leorio says.
Still slow, Nanika turns the volume on the Home Shopping Network down. Leorio lets go of her hand and pats the space beside him.
“Let’s learn about air fryers,” he says.
“Kay,” Nanika says, and sits.
***
Voicemail: Hey. We’re at the beach and I thought of how much better you’d be handling this if you were here— you know— remembering to pack extra towels and enough sunscreen and all of that. Not that I’m struggling exactly, I mean, all things considered I think I’m doing pretty well. And the kids are great, of course, it… feels really great to just be back with them again. They even help around the house while I’m at the hospital or... asleep at the coffee table. Are you getting enough sleep? I think they’d really love to hear from you, Kurapika. Even just a text. A photo of the sky you’re seeing. We’re seeing it too.
***
“I just don’t think eggs are supposed to look like that,” Killua says.
“Well what do you think they’re supposed to look like? They’re scrambled.”
“Gon— they’re black.”
“No, they’re not!” Gon says, waving the spatula around. “I’m a really good cook!”
“There’s no way,” Leorio says, walking into the kitchen, “that that’s true.”
Gon turns to him with a heartbreaking frown. “You’re supposed to be asleep,” he says.
“You two underestimate how loud you are,” Leorio says, opening a cabinet and taking a mug down. “Who made the coffee?”
“Alluka,” Killua says.
“So it’s drinkable. Good.”
In the time it takes Leorio to pour himself a cup and stir in sugar and creamer, Gon still hasn’t stopped frowning. It might be a record.
“What?” Leorio asks. “What is it? You’re stressing me out.”
“We wanted to make you breakfast,” Gon says. “For your birthday.”
It’s already March. Leorio feels a rush of affection for the brats, who’ve remembered that they’re already three days into March, even when he hasn’t. Instinctively his hand goes to his phone, though there aren’t any missed calls. Gon and Killua share a small, quiet look.
“Why don’t we go out?” Killua suggests, leaning back against the counter. “That way, it’ll actually be pleasant for him.”
Gon makes a noise that’s half-frustration and half-defeat before turning the stove off. “Fine,” he says.
It’s impossible not to be charmed.
They go to a diner downtown, and order enough pancakes, eggs, bacon, and toast to feed a small army. They tell Alluka a hundred stories about the Hunter exam, exaggerating the details more and more with every sentence, and she laughs until her sides begin to hurt, begging them to stop. Leorio only checks his phone twice. Afterwards, they walk around the city and watch a murder mystery that has them all screaming at the screen. It’s the best birthday Leorio has had in a long time. Nearly perfect.
Leorio checks his phone before cake. They eat it by the forkful like monsters and press gifts into Leorio’s arms before shuffling off to bed, one by one. Later, Leorio turns on the Home Shopping Network and shares a piece with Nanika.
Nearly perfect.
***
Voicemail: Happy birthday. I know you won’t listen to this, anyway, so it doesn’t really matter, but I just wanted to say that—
***
Voicemail: I thought you should know, just in case, on the off-chance that you do listen to these, on your birthday, how loved you are.
***
Voicemail: Fucking hell, Kurapika.
***
“I just think,” Gon whispers in the middle of the night, reaching into the space between them to hold Killua’s hand, “that he’s a little sad.”
“Wooow,” Killua answers, sardonic, but meeting Gon in the middle anyway, “you think?”
They’d pushed their beds together months ago. At first, they’d push them back into their normal places in the morning, maybe for Leorio’s sake— maybe for their own— but Leorio had caught them doing so anyway, and rolled his eyes.
“You’ve got to know that makes a considerable amount of noise every morning, right?” he’d asked.
“Uh,” Gon said, scratching his head. Killua had already slunk to the ground, head in both hands. “Actually, we didn’t.”
“Well, it does.”
“Oh.”
“I don’t care what you do,” Leorio had said. “You’re both eighteen, and also, not my actual children.”
“We’re not doing anything,” Killua groaned from under his hands. “We’re not doing anything.”
“Okay,” Leorio said, in a voice which very much indicated that he did not buy this for a second, and also that he did not a) care and b) want to know. They’d left the beds pushed together, after that.
“We should set him up with someone!” Gon says now, a little too loudly, and Killua can see his eyes brightening up, even in the dark.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because that’s not… how it works, you idiot.”
“How do you know?” Gon asks, turning onto his back.
“I just do,” Killua huffs, curling closer toward him. “You don’t just forget about someone when you’re in love with them, even if it’s miserable.”
Gon doesn’t say anything for long enough that Killua thinks he’s fallen asleep. And then, hushed, almost too quiet to hear, he says: “I’m sorry.”
Killua squeezes his hand and shifts even closer, the tip of his nose brushing Gon’s ear. “I forgave you years ago.”
***
They have a picnic for Gon’s birthday. Leorio and Alluka watch as the boys scramble over one another to climb trees, forever shouting and laughing, and drink iced tea in the shade. Little by little, she’s been coming out of her shell, developing interests, trying new things. Leorio worries that she’s surrounded by too many guys but she doesn’t seem to mind. She is fiercely loyal to them.
They are fiercely loyal to her.
When they get home that evening, aching and happy from the day, Leorio lets the kids pile into the bathroom one by one and notices that his door has been left ajar. Quietly, he steps into the room and sees a body tucked deep into the covers, blond hair stopping his heart in his throat. It takes him a moment to recover— and then he’s kneeling by the bed, reaching a hand out. Kurapika stirs without opening his eyes and mumbles something that sounds too much like “Leorio.”
“Shit,” Leorio says, under his breath.
Shit.
Kurapika does not wake up for dinner, and when the kids plead to see him Leorio has to literally threaten to uninstall the Playstation to get them to stop. He can’t blame them really; it takes everything in him not to shake him awake, to make him explain everything, to make him talk, to hear his voice. But if Leorio knows anything about Kurapika, it’s that the man needs to sleep— has probably needed it for years. So he lets him sleep.
When he sneaks back into his room to grab a pair of pajamas, Kurapika sits up very, very suddenly— and with his hair messy from sleep and eyes gleaming in the dark he looks like the scary kid from every horror movie Leorio swore he wouldn’t watch with Killua.
“Jesus,” Leorio says.
“Hi,” Kurapika says. “What are you doing?”
Leorio stops what he’s doing. “I was just gonna change— I’ll take the couch.”
“No,” Kurapika says. “There’s room here.”
“You’ve been conscious for like— what— 30 seconds, and you’re already giving me an attitude?”
He hears Kurapika laugh lowly from somewhere inside the covers. He changes quickly, cringing at the shirt he tugs on (it says: YOU CAN’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO! YOU’RE NOT MY DAUGHTER) and gets into bed. Slowly, he turns to face Kurapika, who has pulled the comforter up to his nose and is looking at him with big, serious eyes.
Leorio pulls the comforter up to his nose, too, and says: “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“I’m so angry with you,” Leorio says, softly.
“I know.” A pause. “Can it wait until tomorrow, though?”
“Yeah.”
“How are the kids?”
“Good,” Leorio says. “They’ve missed you. They’ve gotten so big— they’re like real, actual adults. You don’t even know about Alluka yet.”
“I know about Alluka.”
“How.”
Kurapika sighs. “Your voicemails, Leorio. All eighty-two of them.”
“You’re exaggerating,” Leorio scowls.
“You’re right— you’ve left way more than that.”
“Oh, yeah? How is it that your inbox is never full then?”
Leorio watches as Kurapika sighs again, and then turns onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. He pulls the covers off of his face, down past his elbows, and Leorio notices he’s wearing one of his shirts.
“There’s this incredible technology now,” Kurapika says, blandly. “You transfer files off of your phone onto a hard drive, and then you can delete the original files to clear up space.”
“Yeah I know how technology works,” Leorio snaps, and then stops, registering. “You put my voicemails on a hard drive?”
“Yes. I just said that.”
The window is open and the night air fills the room; it fills the space between them with the scent of honeysuckle that Gon loves so much. Leorio frowns.
“Why’d you do that?”
Kurapika turns to him again, and his expression is so unbelievably sad that it takes everything in Leorio not to reach out and touch his face. It feels like a thousand vases breaking.
“Why do you think?” he whispers.
“I don’t understand,” Leorio says, shaking his head. “I don’t understand you. You don’t call. You don’t even text to say you’re fine— that you’re alive— but you save my voicemails? You listen to them? Wouldn’t it be easier to just pick up the phone once in a while?”
“Nothing has been easy.”
“Easier, I said. Easier.”
“You said we could wait until tomorrow,” Kurapika says.
“Yeah, and you said you’d keep in touch.”
They look at each other for a moment, Leorio glaring, unable to keep himself from it, and Kurapika with his brows knit together, like he’s trying to figure something out. The wheels in his head turning.
“Should I go?” Kurapika asks.
“I’ll chase you down. Don’t even think about it.” A pause. “Do you want to leave?”
“No,” Kurapika says, too quickly, like Leorio could pull the rug out from underneath him at any time. It hurts. They look at each other as though through a glass, muddy, underwater. Leorio has the urge to touch his face again, but he holds back. Again.
“Then don’t,” Leorio nods, firmly.
Kurapika nods back.
***
When Kurapika wakes up again, morning light is streaming through the window, and three pairs of eyes are blinking at him from the crack in the door. It’s surreal. It’s almost as if he’s still in a dream, floating along his inner conscience, face to face with the things he has most longed for in those years away. Hope, and love, and home. Morning light falling around him in panels instead of bodies. Warmth in his hands. Around his ankles and stomach and wrists. Warmth instead of chains.
Kurapika forces himself out of it. He takes a breath, and he sits up.
“It’s fine, you can come in now.”
The door flies open, crashing into the wall, and Leorio pulls a pillow over his head with a groan. There’s a brief moment of silence as everyone looks at one another. Alluka is always shy but suddenly the boys are too.
“You guys aren’t naked, are you?” Killua finally asks, and Kurapika rolls his eyes.
“Do we seem naked?”
Killua shrugs and cautiously steps into the room. “We just came to see if the old man would make us breakfast.”
“Make it yourselves, you ingrate,” Leorio yells, but it loses its effect through the pillow.
Kurapika slides out of the bed and both Killua and Gon seem fully relieved to see that he’s in sweatpants. “I’ll make you breakfast,” he says. He puts a hand on Killua’s shoulder. “You got so tall.”
“Yeah,” Killua shrugs. “You didn’t.”
Kurapika’s eyes narrow but he can’t hide a smile, and Gon wraps his arms around his middle, and Killua leans in closer, and Alluka makes her way to the center of them too so that they become one large, slow-moving mass, making their way into the kitchen. Gon, unsurprisingly, is the last to let go.
“We missed you so much,” he says.
The fridge, the cabinets— everything is fully stocked. Kurapika cracks three eggs in a pan methodically, as if he is someone who has eaten breakfast in the last five years. He isn’t. He can’t remember the last time he was in a home with a fully stocked fridge. Twelve, maybe. Twelve years old.
“I missed you too,” he says.
“Did you find them all?”
“I did.”
“So— ” The light begins to dial up in Gon’s face— anyone can see it from a mile away. “You’re here for good??”
Kurapika smiles back. It doesn’t reach his eyes.
***
Leorio’s home is by no means lacking in furniture, but Gon’s favorite spot to nap is curled up on the armchair while Killua is already sitting on it. It doesn’t work, exactly— they’re both too big for this— but in true Gon fashion he refuses to give up. This afternoon, he has both legs slung over Killua’s, arms around his middle, head pillowed in the crook of Killua’s neck. Killua, tentative as ever, gently strokes Gon’s hair while he sleeps. They’re supposed to be watching a movie.
“How long has that been going on?” Kurapika asks, folding himself gracefully on the couch.
“Nothing’s going on,” Killua says, immediately, snatching his hand out of Gon’s hair.
“You can’t possibly expect anyone to believe that.”
“Whatever.”
Neither of them say anything; they pretend to watch the movie. Killua thinks that he and Kurapika are more similar than he would ever like to admit— it’s simultaneously comforting and stressful to live with someone who can so accurately perceive him. And annoying, Killua thinks. It’s annoying, above all things.
“Two years, I guess,” Killua finally sighs. “Maybe longer. I don’t know— feels like forever.”
Kurapika laughs. “That can’t be a good sign.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Killua says with a scowl. He sighs again. Kurapika thinks: he can give me a run for his money with all the sighing. “I don’t mean it in a bad way. Just that it’s never felt strange or, like, like— ” He pauses, clearly a little frustrated with himself. Killua doesn’t believe that words are his strong suit. “When we started… all this, it just felt normal, I guess. Like we couldn’t have ended up any other way?”
“That sounds nice,” Kurapika says. “I’m happy you two figured it out, Kil.”
“Yeah, it’s nice. Maybe you’d know for yourself if you weren’t being such an idiot.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” Killua says.
“That’s a bit bold coming from someone who can’t admit he’s in a relationship out loud.”
“I am in a relationship,” Killua says, fiercely. “I’m in a relationship with Gon, and I love him, and I think that he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I think that when he decided I was worth being friends with he saved my life, and also made me realize that my life was worth saving— that I could be a human being instead of a mindless robot— and that if someone was kind and honest and good as Gon could love me, then I could love myself, too. But you know what, Kurapika? Gon knows all this. Because I told him so myself. Because even if everyone else in the world around us could see it, and knew it, none of it would matter if Gon didn’t know.” He pauses to breathe, and then finally says: “He deserves to know that I love him.”
Kurapika feels, suddenly, as though he is the smallest person on earth. “I see,” he says.
“I’m just saying,” Killua says, looking carefully at the TV, “you don’t have to be so sad. And you don’t have to be so alone.”
After Kurapika has left the room, Killua takes a fistful of Gon’s hair and playfully tugs at it. “How long were you awake for that, you nerd?”
Gon grins lazily up at him. “All of it,” he says. “Has anyone ever told you you can be really sweet?”
“No. Shut up.”
“No?” Gon shifts so that he’s sitting in Killua’s lap, facing him. “No one’s ever told you that?”
“Don’t,” Killua says.
“Kil.”
“No.”
“Kil.”
“What?”
“You’re really sweet,” Gon says, and beams at the blush blooming across Killua’s nose.
***
“Do you think,” Kurapika begins one night, “that even terrible people are deserving of love?”
They’re in bed— Leorio flipping through a medical journal while Kurapika lies there, pretending to rest. He’s already been asked eight times if the light bothers him. It does, but the feeling of Leorio there— steady, breathing, doing something completely mundane beside him— far outweighs the mild discomfort of a table lamp.
“Whoa,” Leorio says. “Heavy stuff for 11pm.”
“Can’t possibly be heavier than…” Kurapika peers at the article he’s been reading. “...late stage multiple myeloma.”
Leorio snorts. “You got me there. I guess it depends on your definition of the word ‘terrible.’”
“Terrible is terrible, Leorio. Don’t complicate it.”
“Then… no, I guess.”
“Okay,” Kurapika says, and it’s mostly to himself but Leorio doesn’t notice. It’s okay. Kurapika can’t begrudge Leorio for answering a question he wanted an answer to, and it isn’t as if he disagrees— not really. It’s only that his conversation with Killua has been playing in his mind, rewinding the tape, and playing it again, the words as heavy as bells around him.
The thing that Kurapika knows, that Killua has seemingly forgotten, is this: he and Killua are nothing alike. Killua fought tooth and nail and clung to his humanity like it was a life jacket, whereas Kurapika shrugged his off out of respect and out of guilt. Killua looked his abusive, manipulative, treacherous family in the eye and reclaimed himself. Kurapika withheld a secret one day when he was twelve— and everyone he ever cared about died for it.
They are nothing alike.
When Leorio shuts off his light and lies down next to Kurapika, he turns to him and sighs. “I changed my mind,” he says. “Or I lied because I didn’t want to make you upset. Either way.”
“Hm?”
“I think everyone is deserving of love. Even terrible people. Maybe… terrible people the most.”
“That makes no sense,” Kurapika says, finding himself annoyed.
“Maybe not,” Leorio nods, “but I stand by it because I don’t think anyone is actually born bad. I think a lot of factors play a role, like, all of that nature vs. nurture stuff. I’m team nurture. And it’s not like… I mean, I’m not saying that— that we have to forgive the people who hurt us, obviously.”
“What are you saying, then?”
“That there’s nothing wrong with being good to each other, I guess.”
“That’s— that’s ridiculous,” Kurapika says and shifts closer. He can feel the warmth radiating off of Leorio, comforting and familiar. “How are you like this?”
“Like what?” Leorio says, brows furrowing.
“So good,” Kurapika says, quietly, touching Leorio’s face. He shifts closer again, close enough to brush his mouth along Leorio’s jaw. “It makes me feel— ” He breathes into Leorio’s ear, unable to stop his hands from clutching at the front of Leorio’s shirt. “It makes me feel so awful.”
“Um,” Leorio says, stupidly, snaking an arm around Kurapika’s back. “That’s not really— I mean there are a lot of mixed signals right now— ”
“I know,” Kurapika says, and presses his mouth against Leorio’s neck. “I know.”
Neither of them move for some time. Leorio listens to Kurapika breathing against him, breath so hot that his body begins to react whether he likes it or not.
“Kurapika,” he manages to say, finding it difficult to swallow.
“I’m sorry,” Kurapika says, pulling away. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Leorio looks at him carefully. He thinks that, despite the years and the distance between them— maybe in spite of the years and the distance between them— he knows Kurapika. Knows him like recurring dreams and childhood haunts and folk songs. Knows him crouched and hidden inside of the stone castle Kurapika has built around himself.
“You weren’t talking about the Phantom Troupe,” Leorio says.
Kurapika shakes his head.
“I don’t think there’s anything I can say to get through to you, sunshine. But I’m pretty sure terrible people don’t go around wondering if they’re terrible.”
Kurapika watches him like a cat in the dark.
“And for what it’s worth,” Leorio says, “I love you regardless.”
***
Alluka squints at him from where she’s sitting, along with Gon and Killua, in the empty bathtub. The bathroom is too small for them to all fit anywhere else.
“I think it’s nice the way it is,” she finally decides. “You can braid it!”
“It’s too long,” Kurapika shakes his head. “It gets in my eyes.”
“Let’s shave it all off,” Killua says with a grin.
“Mullet! Mullet! Mullet!” Gon chants.
“Why are you all in here, anyway? Kurapika says, reeling toward them. “Don’t you have… school or something to go to?”
“School,” Killua repeats, dryly. “You’re losing it. You’re spending too much time around Leorio and his old man cooties are infecting you.”
“Are we still using the term ‘cooties’ at the big age of eighteen?”
“You bet,” Killua says.
Kurapika turns back toward the mirror and rolls his eyes. Killua rolls his too, and sticks his tongue out.
“I can see you,” Kurapika says.
“I know. That’s why I did it.”
“I think,” Gon says, pointing a finger in the air, “that you should let me give you a mullet.”
“I know what you think,” Kurapika says. “The problem is I don’t remember asking for your opinion.”
“I’m gonna give you a mullet,” Gon mutters under his breath, “while you’re sleeping.”
“Okay— out. Out, all of you.”
“We’ve got better things to do anyway,” Killua says, scrambling out of the tub with Gon right behind him. Alluka gets out too, but instead of leaving the room, a darkness shifts around them and Kurapika finds Nanika standing beside him, looking at him in the mirror.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hi,” Kurapika says back. “Don’t think that just because you’re cute I want to hear your input either.”
She giggles, and puts her arms around him. “Kurapika.”
“Do you want to hang out with me today?”
She nods against him.
“Do you want to bake cookies and eat them all and not share with the others?”
She nods again and then stops, looking thoughtful. “Maybe. One. ”
“Okay,” Kurapika says, smiling at her in the mirror. “Maybe they can have one.”
***
Voicemail: Right now you’re sitting on the roof with Gon and Killua and I can hear the three of you laughing from the kitchen. I keep getting the feeling you’re on the verge of leaving again and it’s making me a little crazy. What can I say? Please don’t go. What more do you have left to do? Why do you think you have to do it alone? When are you going to stop punishing yourself? And us? When are you going to stop punishing us ? Anyway, I— I just hope you know that no matter what you go out and do in your life, the three of us— well, the four of us, now— are always on your side. Stop trying to push us away because it’s exhausting, and it doesn’t work. I love you. I’m not going to stop just because you’re a pain in the ass.
***
Months pass, and Kurapika doesn’t leave.
They don’t talk about the voicemail. They skate around the edges of their feelings for one another, too wary and insecure about ruining a fine thing. They are fine. They sleep in the same bed and cook dinner together. Some mornings Leorio wakes to find Kurapika’s head on his chest, one hand resting gently on his stomach. Others he wakes to find Kurapika pacing the room, rearranging the furniture, folding and refolding laundry at 4am.
***
One night, lying side by side in the dark, Kurapika says: “You were right.”
“Now there’s something I don’t hear every day. What about?”
“I was thinking of leaving.”
Leorio stiffens, the threat of it landing on his chest like dead weight. He doesn’t want to feel like this, he realizes, angrily. “Why didn’t you?”
“I like waking up next to you.”
When Leorio doesn’t respond, Kurapika turns toward him.
“Is that all?”
This time it’s Kurapika who doesn’t say anything. Leorio sighs.
“Look, I know it’s not easy for you to… talk about anything, really, but I— it’s just me. Can’t you at least talk to me?”
“I’m trying,” Kurapika says with a scowl.
“Oh, okay, because it kinda felt like you were stalling.”
“I was gathering my thoughts.”
“I was under the impression your thoughts were always perfectly gathered and filed into neat little mind compartments— ”
Kurapika sits up so he can fully turn to Leorio and fix him with a glare.
“What?” Leorio asks, smiling.
“I can’t stand you,” Kurapika whispers, and leans down, and kisses him. Leorio cups his face with both hands and kisses him back, and then they’re both shifting, moving, slowly against one another, Kurapika slipping a leg over Leorio’s body so that he can straddle him, knees planted firmly on either side, their chests flat against one another. Kurapika kisses the way he does everything else— methodically, with purpose and precision— until Leorio slides his mouth open and he can’t help the inadvertent moan that rushes out of him.
They lose their clothes quickly but everything that follows is deliberate and slow. Leorio rolls them over so he can press Kurapika into the bed, kissing his mouth long and hard enough to bruise.
“I,” Kurapika begins, cutting off with a gasp when Leorio bites his neck.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. Do that again.”
He does. Kurapika doesn’t try to speak again until later, when Leorio finally twines their hands together and pushes into him.
“Shit,” Kurapika says breathily. “I love you.”
Leorio stops. Kurapika’s legs are wrapped tightly around him so he can’t move away. His expression is soft around the edges, unfocused, while Kurapika’s eyes blaze red.
“What?”
“Don’t get emotional,” Kurapika says, digging his heels into Leorio’s back. “I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life being annoyed by you, but right now I need you to fuck me until I forget my name.”
“You love me?” Leorio asks, not moving. He’s struggling to hold a smile back.
“Oh my god.”
“Love?”
“You are never seeing me naked again.”
***
Next morning, the sun streaming in again. Kurapika hasn’t let himself get used to it; he doesn’t want familiarity to smudge out the feeling of awe. He doesn’t want to forget to be grateful, that this is somehow— inexplicably— his life now. Quietly, lazily, he stretches out across the bed, draping a leg over Leorio’s and pressing his mouth against his chest.
“Good morning,” Leorio says.
“Good morning.” Kurapika straightens out, presses a chaste kiss to Leorio’s neck. “I’m starving. Someone should probably make pancakes. Gon, maybe.”
“Yeah, well… I guess we’re gonna have to face the kids sometime. Might as well get it over with.”
“Hm?” Kurapika pulls away to look him in the eye. “You don’t think they heard us.”
Leorio squints at him and then laughs— hard. “Are you serious?”
“I’m serious,” Kurapika says, slowly and seriously.
“You have no idea how loud you are, do you?”
Kurapika sits back, blinking. He puts his head in his hands.
They have two full minutes of peace in the kitchen before Gon, Killua, and Alluka come in, popping open tubes of colorful streamers and shouting.
Killua grabs a wooden spatula from the drawer and uses it as a microphone. “Congratulations to the two grossest people I know,” he says. “Please pay for my therapy sessions.”
“Did you just— did you just have these lying around?” Leorio asks, picking a handful of streamers off of the floor.
“For special occasions,” Gon says with a grin. “It was Alluka’s idea.”
“This can’t be happening,” Kurapika mumbles, slumped against the wall.
“How about,” Leorio announces, taking the spatula out of Killua’s grip and setting it gently down, “I take everyone out for pancakes as an apology for traumatizing you all, and we never talk about this again?”
“It’s gonna take a lot more than one round of pancakes, old man.”
“That’s fine,” Leorio says, waving a hand. “I can make my peace with that.”
***
Voicemail: You’re sleeping, and I only left to get us coffee. I thought you might worry when you woke up, so I left a note, too. I thought I would repay you for all the voicemails over all the years, because I don’t think I ever explained how much comfort they brought me in all that time alone.
I spent a lot of my life alone, Leorio. Not just— how some people say, they’re alone because they’re single, or they’re alone because they haven’t seen their friends in a few days. I mean— alone-alone. From the time I left what used to be my home to the time I met you and Gon, I didn’t have anyone. And then when I left you three to find my family’s eyes, I felt very acutely that I would never have anyone again.
Except for when I listened to your voice. Telling me about your day. Telling me to take care of myself. Updating me on my past life, on my past friends— making it seem like those things weren’t in the past at all. That I could return when I was ready. I don’t know if I believed it when I decided to come find you again, but I did have hope, and sometimes that’s enough to pull through. It was you and your persistence that pulled me through.
I know I haven’t always been the best friend, and I couldn’t blame you if there were questions about my reliability. But a mutual friend once told me that when someone is good to you, and brave enough to hold your hand through the worst of you, they deserve to know that they’re loved, too. I love you, Leorio. Even when I’m difficult and distant, and even if I can’t give you peace. I love you. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’ve made me realize that I could love myself, too, some day.
I love you. I’ll see you at home. I love you.