Summary: They used to be four and wild and untouchable. They used to be four and now they are three; only three, and what have they become? (Kurapika is dead and he brings the world down with him.)
A/N: I haven't written anything in so long. Are you ready for this angst? Let's go.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hunter X Hunter.
Scarlet Red on Pure White
There are three people in the blindingly white room. There are three people and one body.
Killua joins Gon and Leorio around the hospital bed, where the shell of their former friend lies unmoving. The blond's eyes are a staggering contrast to the rest of the room—scarlet red on pure white. Later, when they have calmed down, Leorio will run a hand over the Kurta's face, gently shutting his eyelids so that he looks more at peace. Even later, in a week's time, the three of them will gather again, all dressed in black, sorrowful expressions never leaving their face, and they will try their hardest not to break down at Kurapika's funeral. But right now, they have not gotten over the initial shock of the boy's current state.
Kurapika is dead.
They used to be four and wild and untouchable. Gathered together in the company of moonlit smiles, gazing at the galaxy above with a child-like innocence, a lifetime of laughter to keep the sadder, darker thoughts at bay because they were together and it was enough. Joined tightly by what some may call Fate, but to them, it was simply Life and the universe had been kind, once, a long time ago.
They used to be four but now they are three. Only three, and what have they become?
Leorio had always thought that he would be the first one to go; being the oldest, he doesn't think he can forgive himself for letting any of the boys pass on before him. Because at merely nineteen-years-old, that's what Kurapika was: still just a boy.
They had all met at the Hunter Exam as four strangers brought together from all across the country by intertwined threads, by mere coincidence. First, Gon, Kurapika, and Leorio coming together to ride out the storm on the ship, then not long after, Killua joining them on his skateboard, and Leorio knew that they would become more than just fellow participants.
Gon, happy cheerful Gon, has never truly learned the language of grief. Instead, the tears spilling out of his eyes are hot, full of rage. He grits his teeth, hands clenching tightly on the bedsheets, seething at every living thing on the earth as the sorrow in his heart translates itself into anger because how dare they? How fucking dare they?
Ringing in his ears, he can still hear the light chuckles that make up Kurapika's laugh. It always started off soft, as if it were a secret hidden from the world and only a select few could share the blond's joy, but eventually it would increase in volume and Gon thinks that might be what he misses the most. The happiness.
Kurapika has died and Gon is bawling and Leorio is biting back tears and Killua—
Killua isn't even sure what his own emotions are at the moment. Maybe he feels sadness, as he undoubtedly should. Maybe he feels angry for letting the Phantom Troupe get to a precious friend.
Maybe he doesn't feel anything at all.
"K-Killua, are you okay?" Gon places a hand on his shoulder and squeezes, sniffling up his own anguish. The island boy is unable to control his feelings and it comes out in a rush of raw emotions in the purest form.
The ex-assassin nods. He's okay, he thinks. And that's the problem.
He's not supposed to be okay after finding out that his friend died.
The white-haired boy stares down at the body blanketed in white and clenches his fists by his sides, retreating inside himself because this is how he copes, how he's always coped. He wants to think that some part of him is grieving—wants so badly to believe that he isn't just a hollow shell that doesn't have any emotions.
He blinks and wishes that he would cry. Looking over at Gon and Leorio, whose eyes both glisten with waterfalls of tears, he wonders why he can't empathize with their sentiments. He wonders why he can't be human too.
The truth is that he never got to know the Kurta all that well. Back when Killua was twelve and Kurapika was seventeen, they were both struggling with their own issues; avenging a whole clan and coming to acknowledge that one's upbringing was flawed doesn't leave much time for the two of them to socialize and actually spend time bonding and building relationships.
What he does know about Kurapika is that his friend was kind and compassionate and definitely the most level-headed out of all of them. He remembers the two of them both finding peace with each other, away from the ever-eventful lives of Hunters and the heated moments that would arise when Gon ate just a little too much candy and Leorio would get into one of his moods and yell at the clouds with a fist raised high.
At some point in their journey, they had undeniably become a family. The oldest, passionate Leorio, hot-headed Leorio, understood that their time together was limited the most. The feeling of loss and helplessness as he stands on the sidelines as a loved one passes on is not foreign to the aspiring doctor. The others are brothers to him and he will never regret pulling up a blanket around their sleeping forms when he is the last to fall asleep because the younger boys wear themselves out far too quickly.
Gon and Killua had formed an instant friendship through a bond that seemed to transcend lifetimes the moment they met. Best friends loyal to each other through and through, who fought like siblings, who sacrificed themselves for each other like lovers. Bright, sparkling Gon who could become friends with even the most unwilling of strangers, excited to explore the world not to follow in his father's footsteps, but to experience everything and anything through his own eyes. And his counterpart, Killua, sweet-toothed Killua who was much like a child in many ways, who has gone through too much for his twelve years, fixated in a place between young and far too old. His body held a map of scars and bruises, old and new, that stained his pale skin, and even more that stained his mind.
They are all boys stronger, than any of them have a need to be; weaker, too.
Leorio, Gon, and Killua cling onto each other because they are the aftermaths. They are all they have left now.
.
They used to be four and now they are three and they are broken.
They don't believe that they will ever be fixed again.
.
"You will become a respectable doctor one day, Leorio. Believe in yourself."
"If there's anything bothering you, Killua, I'm always here to listen."
"Gon, even if you never catch up to your father, you will still have a family here with us."
Looking back, had they ever even thanked him for always being there?
.
Killua Zoldyck exits the room first. All those years of training could never have prepared him for the heart-wrenching pain he feels at this moment. His footsteps are silent as he makes his way down the hall; it's what he's used to doing, what his instinct orders his body to do, and yet, isn't he also supposed to be numb to death too? The heart really isn't something one can train, he understands now. It's just another thing Illumi was wrong about; just another thing Kurapika has taught him.
Gon Freecss watches and watches and watches until he can't look any longer. His feet carry him out of the hospital, unable to shake the daunting image of a lifeless boy lying alone in stark white sheets, who used to mean so much, who means even more now. He does not greet the receptionist on his way out like he normally would; doesn't think that he can go back to his usual routine now that the world has flipped over in the most unsettling way.
Leorio Paladiknight stays by the Kurta's side the longest, but eventually, he too turns to leave. He walks out of the hospital room, head pointed to the floor, hands in his pockets, feet dragging along the checkered tiles. The building has become suffocating, the heavy air slowly draining the life out of him with every breath. The nurses stop to talk to him on his way out, whispered inquiries about something he doesn't bother to listen to, and he keeps his eyes closed because he doesn't want to look at anyone, because he doesn't want to lose the image of his dead friend in his mind. Each step forward feels like moving backwards and what is there waiting for him in the future if not Kurapika?
The three remaining Hunters each go their separate ways. Once, they held hands around a glowing sun, travelling on winged feet to a faraway destination where their only worry would be how far they'd have to reach out to go on their next adventure. They made promises of staying in touch no matter how the circumstances disconnected them because friendships only fall apart if one lets it.
They had still been children then.
They are not children anymore. Growing up has unmasked the brutality of reality, leaving scars to be painted over tender skin and untainted beliefs and naïve dreams and wishes of forever.
They are not children anymore and they should have known that this is how their once tightly knitted knots would come undone.
Without glancing back, they leave the room that holds scarlet red eyes on pure white sheets.
(Boys like them are not molded for happiness.)
A/N: this writing style is too flowery for me. I don't think I succeeded. At this point, I think it's safe to say that I still don't have my own writing style, ah why is life like this.
For some reason I feel like the middle section was really inconsistent? This was originally going to be a Killua character study but everything is weird now. Haha. Okay.
~Madin456.