Thanks for reading! This is an AU based on The Breakfast Club, my favorite movie. It's written for Kurokura week 2018, but also features copious Hisoillu because I can't write one ship without the other since I love them both so much. Hope you enjoy!

I can't believe you can't get me out of this.

Illumi watched the school come into view, a bland brick building that no one driving by would guesss hosted a prestigious prep curriculum. His family name was on the gymnasium. He understood why his parents wouldn't want to try to get him out of this, ostensibly anyways. They would want him to accept the consequences of his actions.

But I was just trying to help our family. They always say that's the priority.

But if they were letting him be subjected to an all-day Saturday detention, he must clearly have messed up enough to have disappointed them. But he didn't understand why, or how, and Mother was too busy yelling at Milluki to get up in time for school and coddling Kalluto to explain to him, and Father had a business trip. He just shook his head when he saw Illumi the day he came home with a note from the principal.

Father left that morning on his trip. Illumi was up at the same time. He thought Father would explain to him then. But instead Father just guzzled his own coffee, black like how Illumi always drank it too, and left without a word.

Clearly Illumi was making himself needy. He could figure it out on his own. He was the eldest Zoldyck son, even if not the most talented like Killua. He could think of why. He wasn't stupid. He wasn't a failure.

"Have a good day," Grandfather said, pulling up to the front of the building.

Illumi nodded, the response programmed into him. "Of course." He slipped out of the car, into the cold winter air. The February wind blew his hair across his face. He batted it away, making it to the library where he'd been told to report to.

There was that stupid jock, the one who was Killua's friend and whom Illumi couldn't stand, scowling at him. Next to the jock sat a boy with blond hair and puckered lips, as if he'd eaten a lemon. Another one of Killua's useless friends. Both in detention? Really, his brother needed better companions, or, more accurately, no companions at all like Illumi.

Maybe this was it. Maybe this was why. He was supposed to figure out just how terrible these two wannabe-friends of Killua's were, so he could report to his parents and they could work out how to best protect Killua. That must be it.

In the back row sat a boy with a scarf wrapped over his well-known forehead tattoo. Not a surprise Chrollo Lucilfer was in detention, but definitely a surprise he had shown up. He had a stack of books higher than his chin next to him.

A slam. The balcony door. Illumi craned his neck, peering up. Bare-armed despite the frigid weather and smirking, Hisoka Morow dropped down the stairs, humming.

Illumi's eyebrows arched. You showed up? That was even more surprising than Chrollo showing up. The class clown didn't play by rules. Rumor had it he was facing expulsion at one point, but the files mysteriously disappeared. But that was last semester.

The blond boy rolled his eyes at the sight of Hisoka, turning to his friend.

"Why hey," said Hisoka cheerfully, yanking out the chair next to Illumi. Golden heart-shaped earrings swung by Hisoka's jawline "Fancy seeing you here."

"Hello," said Illumi. "I—"

"Well, well," said the voice of their principal. "Here we are."

Illumi turned.

"I want to congratulate you all on being on time," beamed Pariston Hill. He surveyed them all like they were dolls he would use to play some sort of devious game. He pointed to the clock. "It is now 7:06. You have exactly eight hours and fifty-four minutes to think about why you're here. To ponder the error of your ways." He clasped his hands together.

"Excuse me?" said Hisoka, tilting the chair back. "Where did you get that suit? It sparkles and I personally think if they wanted us to take detention seriously, they would have sent someone else."

Pariston smiled. "You will not talk to each other. You will not get up." He wandered past Hisoka as if he hadn't talked. Hisoka's eyes sparked. Pariston stopped in front of Chrollo. "And you will not study."

"I believe that's the point of school," Hisoka pointed out.

"They aren't for a class," Chrollo stated, staring up at the principal and tossing his hair. "They're for pleasure."

Pariston reach down and scooped the books up. "Then I'll be confiscating these."

Chrollo's brows pinched together as if he was contemplating having the man eaten alive by fish.

"In the meantime," Pariston continued. "You will be writing an essay of no less than a thousand words, telling me who you think you are."

"Who do you think you are?" asked Hisoka. "A sparkling banana?"

Why are you sitting next to me if you're going to be like this? Illumi glared at him.

Pariston's smile turned into ice. "Maybe you'll learn a little something about yourself." He backed up. "My office is upstairs, but that doesn't matter, because I won't be watching you today. Vice-Principal Gyro's office is right across the hall, and he said to warn you that if you try any monkey business, he'll be after you." He gave a ceremonious bow.

"I have a question," said Hisoka. "What did Gyro do to you that you're siccing us on him? Do you want him to get fired that badly?"

"Commentary declined," said Pariston. He pointed back at Chrollo, who had untied the bandana covering his tattoo. "I'd put that on, unless you want Gyro to rage at you."

"I want Gyro to try to rage at me," Chrollo stated, leaning forward on his elbow. He cocked his head as if challenging Pariston.

Pariston swept out of the room like a king. Illumi played with the ends of his hair. Silence elapsed. The blond drummed his pencil against his desk.

"Well," said Hisoka, leaning forward against the desk. "Since I presume we're not supposed to get up even to take a piss, well, then I guess I've got no choice but to—"

"Don't you dare," shot back the blonde. "That's disgusting."

Hisoka's lips curved into a smile. "Why are you even in here, Kurapika? I must say, I figured you for the goodiest of goody-two-shoes. Your other friend's, like, hot-tempered, so I can imagine why he's in here, but you?"

Kurapika's face flushed scarlet. Illumi glanced at Hisoka. Maybe they could find out why Kurapika was there. He'd have to. For his parents. For his brother. If Killua could understand why Illumi didn't want him to be friends with them, then he would understand that Illumi was only acting in his best interest. That it was because Illumi loved him.

Killua had laughed when Illumi stated that the night before. He slammed the door in Illumi's face. But if Illumi had evidence. If. It would all be okay.

Chrollo exhaled and jumped up, striding back towards the bookshelves.

"He said we're not supposed to get up, or are you deaf?" hollered the jock.

"Leorio," hissed Kurapika. "Don't talk to—"

"Oh, I see," said Hisoka. "Chrollo's on your shit list. Figures. We all know he's a criminal."

"A criminal borrowing books from the library," Chrollo commented sarcastically. He tugged his coat tighter around him.

"Can't we just work on our papers?" Kurapika complained, twirling his pencil.

"Can't you, without worrying what everyone else is doing?" Chrollo shot back. "Oh yes, I forgot. The high and mighty Kurapika makes decisions for us all."

Well, there was clearly some history there. Illumi arched his brows.

"Will you be writing your paper, Illumi?" asked Hisoka, leaning against his own bicep, studying Illumi with eyes as golden as his earrings. "Do you do what they tell you to do? All the time?"

"Not hardly," said Illumi. "Only my parents. I don't care about the shitheads who run this school."

Hisoka blinked. "Huh?"

Would his parents want him to write this essay? No, they'd surely prefer him to get information on Kurapika and Leorio, right? Illumi pushed his chair back and sat up on the desk behind it, feet resting on the seat of the chair. If he could talk to Chrollo—

"Cool," said Hisoka, leaning back and kicking his legs up.

"Are you wearing heels?" Illumi asked.

"Like them?"

"You'll trip and break your face."

"My face has survived enough fights; I'm not about to worry about heels." Hisoka snickered. He was wearing his typical absurd makeup, a star and a teardrop on his cheeks. "So how come your parents couldn't get you out of this one?"

Illumi stiffened. "Presumably they had something for me to learn."

"Really? I thought your daddy had a business trip."

"It's not related."

"But are you really sure?" Hisoka smirked up at him.

"Shut up," Illumi said. "They want what's best for me, so I have to trust that being here is—"

"Do they?" asked Hisoka. "Do they really, Illumi? Because I've only ever seen your parents fawning over Killua. He's your friend, right, Kurapika, Leorio?"

"Don't talk to me," Kurapika responded, not even glancing in their direction.

"His IQ is the highest," Illumi stated, blinking. "Of course he gets the most attention; he has the most potential—"

"So your parents are really into eugenics, huh? Evaluating your worth based on your IQ? I'll tell you a secret. Mine's 172."

"Mine is 172," Illumi stammered.

"Exactly," said Hisoka. "That's not mine. I've never been tested. I just saw the results in your records when I got bored enough to go through them one day. You know there's a whole basement archive? But it makes you interesting. You've certainly got potential."

Illumi scowled. Red-hot fury shot through him, that Hisoka had tricked him like that, and also something cooler: you think I'm interesting because of my IQ?

You think I'm interesting? And have potential?

For what?

As if it wasn't bad enough Kurapika had to spend the day with someone he absolutely hated, the fact that Hisoka was here and seemed to be relishing making them all uncomfortable had him ready to punch someone. He clenched his jaw so tightly it throbbed.

He stared down at the sheet of paper in front of him. He'd written a grand total of one word. Out of one thousand. One letter, really.

I.

"So now that we all know your IQ score," Hisoka was saying to Illumi. "Why don't you tell us something else? Like, are you a virgin?"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" demanded Leorio. Kurapika ignored them, focusing on the paper so much that the white began to blur into color. He was not going to help Killua's shitty older brother.

"It's just a question," Hisoka replied. "I am curious. Who here has had sex? I'm going to guess that, based on the fact that I caught you jerking off in the locker room a month ago, you definitely aren't getting any action, Paladiknight. And Kurta, you're definitely no better: I mean, look at you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kurapika snapped. He set his pencil down with a clatter.

"Does that mean I'm wrong?" Hisoka blinked innocently.

Kurapika's mouth closed. "We're all what, sixteen, seventeen? That's pretty young to be having sex, don't you think?"

"I think you're a grandpa and you dress like one, too."

"Go to hell."

"Hell's rejected me." Hisoka tilted his neck back. "Chrollo, you're no virgin. You like taking shirtless photos too much."

Chrollo approached his desk again, carrying a new pile of books. He rolled his eyes but didn't answer.

Of course Chrollo would be that kind of narcissist. Kurapika scowled.

"You're the only one I can't figure out," Hisoka said to Illumi. "Basically school royalty, yet sentenced to the dungeons of detention on a Saturday."

"Whether or not I am getting any action does not concern you," Illumi responded, plucking a piece of lint off his pants.

"Could you all shut up, before we get in more trouble?" Kurapika demanded.

Chrollo grabbed his books, flipping them open.

"And could you not?" Kurapika asked, heart pounding because Chrollo, like Hisoka, seemed to be almost daring them to all get in trouble. Because of course he cared about no one but himself and the fact that Gyro was known for his unreasonableness was probably just extra fun to the likes of Chrollo. "If Gyro sees—"

"I don't particularly care," Chrollo responded, flipping through the pages as if he was relaxing on a lawn chair, a summer breeze fluttering through the air around him. He rubbed his jaw.

"What's going on in there?" yelled Gyro's cranky voice.

"Nothing!" Leorio called. He cringed. Kurapika jumped. Gyro had threatened him when he gave him the detention. "I bet your parents are rolling over in their graves, ashamed of you."

"Do you two have a history?" Hisoka asked.

Silence.

"I said, do you two have a history?"

"Huh?" Kurapika turned. Hisoka was gesturing to him and Chrollo. "It's none of your concern, clown." They hadn't even known each other before the past week. Well, Kurapika had known of Chrollo: known that he was a well known thief, known that he ran a group that called themselves the Phantom Troupe like they were a group of edgelord Edgar Allen Poe stans, and known that he was rumored to have been arrested once before. And Chrollo shared his literature class, but they'd never spoken. Kurapika sat in the front and Chrollo in the back.

"I see," said Hisoka. "So you guys fucked?"

"Please drop dead," requested Chrollo.

"Excuse me?" shrieked Kurapika.

"Kurapika, keep it down!" hissed Leorio.

Hisoka held his hands up. "I mean, you've both got nice faces, despite the trash fashion."

"Like you're one to talk," Leorio retorted, eyeing Hisoka's clown outfit.

"He's just trying to get into your pants," said Chrollo. "Ignore him."

Kurapika's face burned when he realized Chrollo was talking to him. "I don't need you to tell me that kind of thing, asshole!"

"My, my," said Hisoka. "Is that where he likes it?"

"Back off," said Chrollo.

Kurapika wanted to dissolve in humiliation. "Eat shit. Both of you."

"You really seem to hate him, don't you? Well, they do say hate and love are two sides of the same coin."

Kurapika turned to Leorio in desperation.

"Hisoka," Illumi cut in.

"Oh, you shut up," said Kurapika. "No one wants your help."

Illumi scowled as if contemplating stabbing Kurapika.

Chrollo flipped a page in his book.

"What on earth could possible be worth—" Hisoka started.

"Are you two a thing?" Kurapika cut in. Hisoka stopped for a moment, seemingly surprised Kurapika would go there. "I mean. I know you used to be part of the Phantom Troupe."

"Fake, really," said Hisoka. He hopped up from his chair. "I faked being a member because apparently to be an actual member you need to, like, really commit, which I don't do. All right, story time, kids. Chrollo, close your book."

"I've had plot twist spoiled for me," Chrollo replied bitterly.

"Well, see, the thing is, I joined the Phantom Troupe, but only because I wanted to learn their secrets," Hisoka said. "I'd sell them to you for a single corn chip. But Chrollo here is far less interested in a life of crime than you'd think and less interested in the straight and narrow than you'd think."

Chrollo tilted his book up to block his face, tilting back in his seat. Kurapika's brow furrowed.

"Once he figured out I was more interested in using his group for my own means—namely, getting out of class and learning how to fight like a street kid, he may have set me up to take the fall for our robbery of Pariston's office. Too bad burning the relevant security tapes so I didn't get expelled was a bit too little, too late," said Hisoka. "And let's be real, you only did that because you're a coward who knew I would sell your friends out. I had no plans to rat on you, of course. Because you're the kind of person who has no value for himself, but a lot of value for the people you like. Your friends suffering for you would have been so much fun to see, and—"

"It didn't happen; so what?" Kurapika interrupted. "Or are you actually as immature as you—"

"Bring up my friends again," said Chrollo, setting his book down with a thud. His voice simmered with quiet fury. "And I will end you."

"Ooh, I'm scared," Hisoka taunted.

"You should be." Chrollo got to his feet. He was shorter than Hisoka, but no less intimidating a presence. Like a thundercloud. Kurapika hesitated.

"Are you actually going to try to fight right now?" sputtered Leorio. "You can't! You're—"

"Say can't again and he definitely will," Illumi commented, swinging his leg as he watched Hisoka and Chrollo glare at each other.

"You're just a giant softie," Hisoka said.

"No one would care if you were dead," Chrollo responded, eyes flashing. "Because you already basically are. All this—ranting and teasing and flailing—it's the last gasps and thrashes of a dying man, hoping someone will notice he's drowning before he slips under and no one even remembers his name."

"Poetic," muttered Leorio. Kurapika's blood ran cold.

Hisoka's face whitened. And then he swung.

"Stop it!" Kurapika wasn't sure who shouted first, himself or Illumi, but the next thing he knew he'd kicked away his chair and lunged at the brawling duo.

Chrollo struggled. Kurapika's arms clasped around his waist. Chrollo broke away. Illumi yanked Hisoka back, arm around Hisoka's neck in a chokehold. Kurapika shoved Chrollo back, hands on his chest to hold him.

"Let me—"

"Knock it the fuck off!" Kurapika yelled. Chrollo tried to push past him. His arm shot out, pinning Chrollo back against a row of tables. Chrollo gaped down at him, panting, hair dangling over his tattoo and his stupid globe earrings. "You wanna wind up in prison?"

He remembered what Pariston had taunted the other day, before they were sentenced to this all-day detention. One more strike and you'll wind up alone and in prison. I know you're on probation.

Chrollo's eyes narrowed. He jerked away. "Like you'd care." He glanced at him.

Okay, granted Kurapika had thought it'll happen sooner rather than later, if I'm lucky, that day. "I don't care," Kurapika retorted. "I just don't want to be dragged down with you."

Chrollo gaped at him.

"What?"

"Your eyes," said Chrollo.

Kurapika's hands flew up towards his sockets. Dammit! He was supposed to control himself so that people wouldn't see that they turned scarlet when he felt a strong emotion. He ducked his head to hide them.

"So the rumors are true," Illumi said. "Kurta eyes."

Kurapika flipped him off.

"Better sleep with one eye open," Hisoka eked out, face almost blue from Illumi's chokehold. "Can I not die right now? Thank you."

Illumi released him. Hisoka coughed. "And hey, never would have thought you capable of kicking Lucilfer's ass, Kurapika."

"He did not touch my ass," Chrollo said.

"Shame."

Leorio moaned, head in his hands.

"What the hell is going on in there?" roared Gyro's voice.

"Shit!" Hisoka ducked down in a seat next to Illumi. Kurapika's spine stiffened. This is where I belong. This fucking room of miserable people, because that's how hopeless I am as a person.

I'm a failure. I'm a complete and utter failure. He swallowed hard, hanging his head.

Gyro marched in, eyeing them all with his dark gaze. He turned to leave, and then hesitated. He marched over to yank the books of Chrollo's desk.

"If you didn't want me reading, having it in the library was a poor decision on your part," Chrollo informed him.

Fuck.

"Great," said Gyro. "That's next Saturday."

"I'm busy."

"That's the next!"

"For reading? You're punishing kids for reading now?"

"And the next!" Gyro turned.

"Why are you even here and not torturing people? Drug business ran out?"

"That's the next two!"

Kurapika could see the pulse pounding in Chrollo's throat. "Or were you as shitty at running a drug ring as running this school?"

"Cut it out!" Kurapika shouted. Chrollo gaped at him.

"I'll have you every Saturday until the end of the semester," Gyro said, sneering. He stepped closer, towering over Chrollo. "You can't escape me, Lucilfer."

"I only show up when I want to anyways," Chrollo muttered.

Why would you ever want to? To read? Kurapika didn't understand. There were plenty of libraries around.

"Watch it, you Meteor City trash," Gyro mumbled as he left.

Meteor City. The next town over, the dump, as it was known. Kurapika glanced at Chrollo. You really come from there? How'd you get into a prep school, then?

Chrollo got to his feet and stomped back over to the bookshelves to restock.