A/N: Fair warning, I know nothing of cancer, nor do I know anyone who has been afflicted by it. This is all purely based on extensive research. If you see anything that looks like an inaccurate portrayal of this illness, please let me know.
hearts and souls:
I:
on my own
Kurapika transferred to the hospital only once, so they could monitor his progress or lack thereof. It was during that time that he met Pairo, a boy around his age with dark hair and eyes and one of the kindest people he'd had the pleasure of knowing in those eleven years of his. Pairo had been diagnosed with a rare eye cancer a few years prior and had moved into Kurapika's neighborhood for better treatment. According to specialists, eye melanoma wasn't dangerous until it spread. The doctors had been hopeful, his chances were even better than Kurapika's.
The two of them met thanks to a miraculous arrangement that ended up having Pairo and him share a room. They hit it off from the second they met as if the two were just old friends reconnecting, instead of strangers united by some unfortunate circumstances. The nurses even took to calling them platonic soulmates. Kurapika never liked that title. He just thought Pairo was fun to be around, that was all. No fate to it.
One day they were taken out by their parents for Christmas dinner at Kurapika's house. The doctor thought it a good idea, giving them the go-ahead, hinting that both boys might be able to move back home soon. After all, both of their illnesses had gone into partial remission.
Everyone had been reasonably excited for the occasion. Both their families, together, for the first time in six months? It was better than any Christmas Gift.
The pair of friends sneaked out into the backyard after dinner, to the swing sets that Kurapika's parents had made for him a few years prior. They made their way through the snowy lawn, ignoring the snow that mingled with their hair and skin. The two swings creaked and squeaked under their weight, and the sound almost seemed to echo in the silence of the night.
"You used to sing, right, Kurapika?" Pairo asked, as they sat quiet on the swing sets, pushed every now and then by the winter wind.
Kurapika glanced at his friend. Why bring this up now? He knew he couldn't do that anymore. "Yeah?"
"Could you sing something for me?" the brunet asked, leaning closer to him, strangely excited.
Kurapika frowned, kicking at the snow at his feet grumpily, though all he felt inside was nervousness. "I don't know. It's been a long time. And my voice is all messed up, so I -"
"It's alright," Pairo insisted, leaning in even closer and causing Kurapika to inch away, as Pairo's wide, brown eyes focused in on him. They were framed by thick-rimmed glasses flecked with snow, Pairo's vision failing him by the day due to the cancer and the treatment that went with it. "If it's yours, I know I'll like it!"
His face grew hot, and even he was surprised the snow around him didn't melt from the body heat. Taking compliments was difficult for him.
"What? I mean," he cleared his throat, which hurt a lot more than expected, so his voice came out quieter than before despite the clearing of the throat, "okay?"
Pairo sat up straight on the swing again, hands loosening around the chains holding him up. And he stayed like that, silent but clearly eager to hear his best friend finally use this elusive talent of his.
Kurapika moistened his lips and swallowed. It hurt a bit but he was used to that. He ran the lyrics through his head, hearing the music ring and vibrate in his ears, and his lips parted and the words fell off them.
His voice was quiet and soft, but in the quiet of the night, it was thunderous. No, it was just right. Soon, Pairo started humming along, recognizing the song as one of the carols Kurapika's family had sung. Pairo's memory never failed him, his humming harmonized perfectly.
It was nice . . . to sing again. Laryngeal cancer made it hard to sing. It hurt, it made your voice hoarse and raspy. You couldn't sing, or speak for that matter, much louder than a whisper. But Kurapika would never let them cut it out. Not when it practically guaranteed that he would never be able to sing, to speak, again. He loved singing. It was his life's purpose, the only that made him feel whole. He had to sing. Even if it was just to himself.
Halfway through the song, his voice broke on a note where he dared to be a little louder. It set him off on a coughing fit without even the slightest warning. As if his body decided he'd had enough singing time for now.
Pairo panicked, reaching out to him. "Are you alright?"
He nodded, breathing in shakily as the fit ended. "I'm fine. Thanks."
Pairo's brow wrinkled in worry. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," he replied, a little too fast, a little too snappish, and Pairo shrank away. Kurapika felt his heart sink at that expression. His temper got the better of him sometimes, and he wasn't particularly proud of it.
He smiled, trying to mend the broken atmosphere that shattered with his outburst. "So, do you think Dr. Yorkshire will actually let us go home?"
Pairo lightened up easily. He wasn't one to stay down for too long. "I hope so, we've been in there forever! But I'm gonna miss sharing rooms. It's funner that way."
"Maybe we should have a ton of sleepovers? One night I can go to your house, the next you can come to mine!" Kurapika suggested, holding up a finger to accentuate his point, edging closer to his friend in all his eagerness.
"And it wouldn't smell like a hospital!" Pairo cheered, raising his hand. Kurapika high-fived him, a giant grin on his face. Their moment together was suddenly interrupted by a woman's voice.
"You won't last long, if you stay out there!" he heard his mother shout from the porch. His mother had always boasted super-human hearing. She just . . . heard everything.
Pairo laughed, Kurapika tried to, only to wince a bit and settle for a tight-lipped smile, one Pairo returned with a small, worried frown. He said nothing, only suggesting they return to the house so they can turn in for the night. If they stayed up too late, they would sleep in too long tomorrow and wouldn't be able to do everything they wanted.
Pairo stayed in Kurapika's room for that night. His parents taking the couch downstairs. Kurapika had expertly set out the mattress that morning and showered it with a large assortment of blankets and five pillows because he'd be damned if Pairo didn't sleep well because it was too cold or the mattress was too bumpy. Nope, Pairo would have the best sleep in forever.
The two friends went to bed, but it was some time before they fell asleep. Mostly because a particular blond couldn't be quiet for five seconds.
"Hey, Pairo?" Kurapika asked some time when they lay in their respective beds. "What do you wanna do once we get better?"
Pairo stayed silent for a long moment, and Kurapika wondered if that was a good question to ask. If it would make Pairo feel bad. But then, it was Pairo and Pairo didn't get upset. "I don't really know. There's a lot I still want to see."
"Like traveling?" he asked.
"Uh-huh, don't you?"
Kurapika nodded, though he knew Pairo probably couldn't see the motion with his glasses so far out of reach and all the lights off. "I want to go on tours, so people can listen to me live without having to go too far."
"Awww," Pairo spoke, and you could hear the smile behind those words, feel the little glimmer of laughter in his eyes, even when you couldn't see it in the darkness that shrouded the room. "You do have a soft, mushy side under that temper!"
"Oh, shut up," Kurapika muttered, throwing one of his pillows at the boy, who just giggled a bit.
"It's true," the boy sang, tossing the dolphin pillow back at its owner, who caught it with ease. "Kurapika Kurta is a softie ~!"
"Quiet!" Kurapika protested, keeping his voice low enough that it didn't rouse his parents nor hurt his throat.
"Kurapika Kurta is a softie!" he chanted louder, and Kurapika leaped down onto his mattress and pressed his hand to the boy's mouth.
"Shh, you'll wake everyone else up!" Kurapika hissed, but the brunet just kept smiling, before moving away from his hand and freeing his mouth from those who sought to silence him.
The boy continued to chant, though considerably quieter this time. Kurapika frowned, unimpressed yet willing to settle. He was beginning to crawl back into bed when he was tackled into a hug and pulled down.
Both boys fell back on the mattress as Kurapika let out a small yelp of protest. "Hey!"
"It suits you," Pairo offered, sounding blissfully happy. Kurapika rolled his eyes. Even as a child, he wasn't much of a hugger. Pairo definitely was.
That didn't mean he wouldn't respond to one. They stayed that way, with their arms wrapped around each other, waiting for the adrenaline rush to pass and give into lethargy.
Kurapika eventually broke that silence, as one question continued to toss and turn around in his brain. "Hey, Pairo? Do you think it's possible for us to get better? Like, really get better?"
No answer.
"Pairo?"
More silence. And then, Kurapika noticed the other boy's steady breathing beside him and the way his limbs loosened from around him. Careful not to stir the brunet awake, he untangled himself from the hug and wrapped Pairo up in a cocoon of blankets. Nodding once for a job well done, the blond finally crawled back into his own bed, letting fatigue slowly carry him away into dreams of traveling and singing and his best friend being there through it all.
. . .
Kurapika and Pairo went back to the hospital a few days later, as Dr. Yorkshire had requested, for a final set of exams. She deemed them both stable enough to return home and leave treatment alone for a while. As children, the medicine had always been rough on them, so the thought of not having to take it anymore only added to the excitement. They'd still be doing routine check-ups, just in case, but for the moment, it seemed both boys had found their path to recovery.
The two went to the same school, though neither of them had been able to attend too often while in the hospital. Their class schedules miraculously coincided, so the two friends ended up spending most of their days together, which suited them just fine. During lunch, they were together. During class, they always partnered up. It seemed almost ridiculous to imagine them apart.
One of their parents would always come pick them up, and then they'd spend their evenings together as well. They'd often end up staying the night, playing cards and board games and reading, until eventually, someone came and told them to go to sleep. After which, the two of them would, of course, talk for a few more hours until one of them actually managed to fall asleep.
In short, they were inseparable. Together, they lived.
And then, one day, when his mother was driving them to Kurapika's house, Pairo got a headache.
Which usually didn't mean anything, everyone got headaches, but just in case, Kurapika's mom took him to the hospital. Dr. Yorkshire did a few exams. She came back and Kurapika understood before anything was spoken, just by the look on her face. It was the same look she'd given his parents when his test results came back in.
"It's spread beyond his eyes," the green-haired woman spoke, each word slow and deliberate as she eyed them warily. "There's a tumor in his brain now, coming from his optic nerve and spreading to other regions . . ."
That was all the two of them caught before Kurapika's parents led them out, as per proper protocol. The doctors expected Pairo's to break the news to them in a gentler fashion later on.
Pairo was admitted back into the hospital. His chances dropped from eighty to fifteen and then to a mere five. A year and a half of fighting later, with Kurapika by his side, singing to him as their ritual demanded, Pairo passed away. It was a week before his fourteenth birthday. Kurapika lived on and eventually gave up trying to fill the void left behind. He wondered what would happen if Pairo had still been alive. He wondered if he'd be joining him anytime soon. He wondered how much his parents would suffer then, and he decided that he'd fight as long as he could.
He wondered these things for three years, not willing to open up again, pushing away any possible friends, because he knew his time was limited and theirs wasn't.
So, when his senior year rolled in and he started looking into colleges, he didn't quite expect anything to change. How wrong he'd been.
. End of Chapter .
A/N: Tell me in the review section if you want me to continue. Also, would you prefer the next chapters to be in present or past tense? Thank you so much for reading, as always, and please review if you have anything to say. Or even if you don't. I love hearing from all of you.