Author's Notes:
PAIRING: Leorio/Kurapika (Leopika).
RATING: Mature. Eventual sexual content.
This story features art by HeyHaleyHAE on Twitter. To view the image, check out the version posted on Archive of Our Own (AO3 username: lemonpika).
Chapter 3: Rising action, or where tensions escalate
In the afternoon, Leorio meets Kurapika by the clocktower, as agreed. The breath catches in Kurapika's throat at the sight of Leorio dressed to the nines in a spotless tuxedo, inclusive of a pocket square and perfectly polished oxfords. The typical sunglasses are perched on Leorio's nose, but even this accessory looks shinier than usual.
Kurapika purses his lips. He himself shouldn't have underdressed. He's specifically selected every clothing component to seem casually thrown on in a flaccid attempt to appear unaffected by this date with the literal man of his dreams, as well as to mitigate the damage of his highly humiliating tantrum about fashion the day before.
Leorio now proffers his arm for Kurapika to hold. "Shall we go, then? I've got the rest of the day planned out for us." Leorio's voice is exceedingly polite, perhaps even gentlemanlike. When Kurapika hesitates, reeling in the face of such uncharacteristic behavior, Leorio flashes a grin meant to put his friend at ease. "You have to play along. Perform the role. Or else this date won't work."
Kurapika inquires about which role, but Leorio brushes this question aside, with the excuse that the answer will become apparent in due time. Kurapika nods and takes Leorio's arm. Together, they walk toward a brand spanking new car, which Leorio admits he borrowed from an affluent medical school friend.
Leorio drives them to an old-fashioned cinema, so decrepit in condition that one might almost expect flickering, achromatic ghosts to come floating in at any moment, summoned from theatrical eras past. Kurapika muses that this spectral quality only serves to augment the retro atmosphere of the contained space. He and Leorio are the only patrons present today.
Familiar with the title flashing across the screen, Kurapika makes a small noise of recognition. At this point, Leorio nudges Kurapika's shoulder with his own. When Kurapika stares askance at him, Leorio raises both eyebrows then looks down pointedly at the armrest between them. Leorio's arm is positioned there, his hand already open and waiting.
As Leorio earlier advised, Kurapika needs to perform a certain role in order for this date to proceed as planned. Kurapika is beginning to comprehend what exactly is going on and why. If he can remember correctly, this scene that Leorio is pantomiming is from chapter twenty-three of Seduction by the Simulacra, a novel that Leorio claims to have read.
Kurapika doesn't need to overthink this. This is simply roleplay. Leorio is only doing this as a gimmick, as a game. Even so, Kurapika's throat is dry as he presses his palm down on Leorio's warm hand, and as Leorio intertwines their fingers in a prearranged way.
Kurapika is thankful for a minuscule blessing now. The film, although devoid of color, is not similarly bereft of sound — the reliable shrink and swell of voices, always with the exaggerated inflections of a bygone age of cinema, drown out the hammering of his own treacherous heart.
Later, at the bayside park, they sit on a checkered blanket that Leorio spreads over the cement ledge overlooking the rocky shore leading toward the frothing water. As they wait for the sunset, they tuck into the sandwiches that Leorio brought in a straw basket — marshmallow and peanut butter, a peculiar combination that sticks to the roof of Kurapika's mouth.
Kurapika takes a long swig of tea from the thermos that Leorio passes toward him. "I understand what you're trying to do here."
Leorio feigns innocence as he chews on his bread, after an unusually dainty bite. "What am I trying to do here?"
"You're attempting to recreate the most romantic scenes from my favorite book. The seaside picnic in chapter eleven. The movie date in chapter twenty-three, when the characters held hands for the first time."
Leorio offers a smug smile in response. "You enjoyed the hand-holding quite a bit, didn't you? You were squeezing me by the end of it, during the epic final shoot-out."
Kurapika stiffens. He doesn't wish to think about that last scene, which portrayed such barbaric gunfire and so many senselessly squandered lives, let alone speak about it. He changes the topic instead. "That was the exact same film that the characters caught at the cinema. I'm impressed that you managed to find the perfect showing."
Shyly rubbing the back of his neck, Leorio admits that he spoke with the projectionist beforehand. "I may have bribed the man. I mean, kinda. I gave him a hearty lunch to get him to show the right movie at the right time."
Kurapika shakes his head. "Bribery or not, you undeniably expended extra effort to coordinate. That is admirable in itself, and if you add the fact that you've obviously gone out of your way to dress as Cassander Sol does in the novel, I look woefully unprepared in contrast. You should have informed me in advance about such plans. If I'd known, I could have acquired and worn one of the heroine's historically-appropriate ensembles. We could've matched."
Leorio flushes pink. "You mean you'd have put on a dress? No, no! You don't have to go that far! I wanted to do all of this for you! All you needed to do was show up!"
Kurapika pauses to meticulously arrange his next words in the proper order. "Leorio, don't you secretly enjoy it when I dress in conventionally feminine attire? I noticed the way you were watching me back then, when I was trying on wigs and skirts for my disguise and dabbing on lipstick and blush."
Leorio's pinkish tinge deepens into maroon, igniting his skin all the way to his neck. Kurapika can almost picture clouds of steam wafting from his ears. "I — I wasn't staring so hard 'cause I was turned on or anything! I was only looking 'cause — because that hotel receptionist outfit back then, it was super different from what you normally wear! But I like all your choices in clothes! Equally! I — I adore them all!"
Kurapika quietly observes him. Leorio's excessive reaction to this deliberate provocation only confirms Kurapika's foremost theory for why this date is even occurring in the first place — a part of Leorio, one that he keeps secret due to shame, is drawn to the more effeminate side of Kurapika. Leorio pines after this side, and this side alone, and while he may generally consider Kurapika as just another one of many male friends, in moments of weakness, such as when impaired by mind-altering substances, his body surrenders to this illicit attraction.
Why else is Leorio ingratiating himself with Kurapika to this extent? Why else is he twisting his personality and embellishing his presentation in this manner, if not to secure Kurapika's company for a single forbidden encounter? Once Leorio's lust has been satisfied, he'll surely move on to better bodies, to shapelier silhouettes. Kurapika understands all this, yes, but he'll let Leorio do what he's come here to do, eventually. Perhaps one night together is better than an entire lifetime apart. Or perhaps not. Even as Kurapika dreads the heartbreak that will inevitably follow, he can't resist snatching up Leorio for himself, even for the briefest moment.
Although his face still retains a smidgen of its heightened color, Leorio clears his throat and unearths a hardbound book from the picnic basket. "I — I'm supposed to read you romantic poetry next."
Kurapika forces a smile. "Of course. Cassander would be extraordinarily proud of your loyalty to his literary patronage."
"So this poem's called 'You were concave when we met and convex when you left,'" Leorio reads aloud.
To soothe the intensifying ache in his chest, Kurapika takes periodic sips of tea as he listens.
I see you silver in a dream
A dreamscape where we waltz in sync
In synchrony we glide and gleam
And gleaming goes our every link
Relink these chains our lives untwine
Untwine this distance to your heart
Your heart can thrum in time with mine
With minds that meet we're not apart
Apart from me you warp in shape
In shape unknown, in soul the old
The olden age is your escape
Escape with me from gray to gold
To golden seas we'll sail as one
As one war ends you'll soon break free
Break free from gripping to your gun
You're gone to them, you're all I see
Once he finishes, Leorio snaps the book shut.
"Is that supposed to be a love poem?" Kurapika asks. "It sounds ominous, somewhat."
"I'm not sure," Leorio confesses. "I only borrowed this book from the library because of its title." He turns it over to show Kurapika its spine. Love Poems by Ilyila Ice.
"I see. Love has a multitude of facets, I suppose. And not all surfaces of the prism are pleasant."
Silence descends between them as they turn toward the sky beyond the lapping waves. The sun has begun to sink below the horizon, setting the expanse ablaze with streaks of tangerine, peach, lavender, and periwinkle.
With stars sprinkled like glitter above them, they traipse around the winding stone paths of the park. Leorio tries to take Kurapika's hand once more. But Kurapika pulls away and says not yet.
Kurapika leads them to a dimmer area, where there are fewer families and couples ambling about, and only the occasional trundle of a rented tandem bicycle. In the pearly glow of incandescent lamps, Kurapika leans back against a shuttered lodge and stares at Leorio's lips. Some time passes before Leorio clues in to what Kurapika wants from him.
As gently as he can, Leorio wraps his fingers around Kurapika's wrists. He lifts these delicate wrists to pin them on either side of Kurapika's head. He leans in slowly, eyes intent, implicitly asking for consent.
Kurapika's single-syllable assent soaks the air between them for a few seconds of agonizing anticipation, then Leorio moves in for a kiss.
Leorio's mouth tastes of marshmallows, and his lips are just as irresistibly soft. Cotton candy. Cumulus clouds. Fluffy pillows. The suffusing fog in Kurapika's skull can't stop drumming up such pointless comparisons. But when it comes down to it, Leorio only tastes and feels uniquely like Leorio. Eager, exhilarating, encompassing everything else in the vicinity.
With a need bordering on desperation, Kurapika wrenches his right wrist free to tug Leorio lower, closer — as close as possible, not a particle of breath between them — when an earsplitting bang jolts him away from the moment. Somewhere behind Leorio, a child has flung down a cherry popper firework to the stone path below. With a mighty shriek, she races away as her howling friends chase after her.
Even as Kurapika's brain registers the reality of what he's just witnessed — that youthful and innocent exuberance — his body has already instinctively reacted. His knees have sunk to the grass, as if such a stance can somehow render him invisible to any nearby threats. His fists are tightly clenched, while his chains are rustling with every turbulent spike of his aura.
"Kurapika? Kurapika, what's wrong?"
An irrational panic is clawing its way up his throat. He needs to protect Leorio! If Leorio gets hurt, on top of everyone else, he'll never be able to forgive himself! He's lost enough people already! Such brutal bloodshed, so many preventable casualties! He's stretching out his arms to the taller man hovering over him, attempting to get him to crouch.
Leorio kneels and rests his large hands over Kurapika's shivering shoulders. "Listen to me, Kurapika. You'll be okay. You'll get through this. Can you tell me five things you can see around you?"
"Five things . . .?"
"You can see me, for example. I'm right here in front of you. I'm keeping you safe and sound. What else can you see? Can you list four more things?"
Kurapika instructs himself to slow his quickened breathing and to calm his pounding heart as he glances around. "Soil," he mumbles. "Stars. Moon. Lamp."
"That's good. You're doing so well." Leorio strokes Kurapika's cheek with the back of his hand, and Kurapika just then realizes, with a mute wave of horror, that his own face is wet with tears. "How about four things you can hear? Can you tell me that?"
Kurapika swiftly wipes his tears away, so his response leaks out muffled. "Your voice. Tandem bicycle. Footsteps. Splashing waves."
"Correct again. Three things you can smell, Kurapika. Go on."
"Grass. Sulfur. Your cologne."
Leorio's chuckle is slightly on edge. "Have I spritzed on too much cologne today?"
"No, you're perfect. You always are."
Leorio's palm slides down, caressing Kurapika's nape. "Two things you can feel, Kurapika. Come on. We're almost done."
"Your hand. Your warmth."
"Okay, final question." Leorio's words are hushed now. "One thing you can taste?"
"You. I can't taste anything but you."
"Perfect marks." Leorio hums with approval. "Want another kiss as a reward?"
Kurapika is the one who leans in this time. Leorio's lips retain some measure of earnestness, but also express ambivalence, undoubtedly arising from what has just transpired. Now that the choking fear has ebbed away and the trembling has subsided, Kurapika internally chastises himself for interrupting the momentum between them with his melodrama.
Kurapika breaks away before too long. He straightens up from his crouching position, and Leorio follows suit, his expression still subdued.
More than anything, Kurapika only desires to salvage this date. He needs to stop dwelling on what happened — not only today, but more importantly that blasted day a week ago — and instead rewrite his mistakes with new memories. If he can have only one night with Leorio, he should damn well make sure that this night is unforgettable.
"It's getting late, isn't it?" Kurapika injects every ounce of lightness he possesses into his voice. "We must have witnessed every star emerge by now."
"You said it. Let me take you out to dinner."
"Unfortunately, I'll have to decline your dinner invitation. That picnic that you so thoughtfully prepared for us, wasn't it filling enough to count as our final meal for the day?"
Leorio's tone is stricken, as if mortified by his miscalculation. "Eh, if you say so. Can I, um, drive you home, at the very least? If that's okay with you?"
Kurapika takes Leorio's hand. He interlocks their fingers before Leorio can even entertain the idea that their date is already over. "I'm not hungry, but I can certainly use a drink. What do you say? Nightcap at my place?"
More Author's Notes:
Similarly to what I did in the penultimate chapter of my other fic featuring Leorio and Kurapika, Echoes of home, two tiers below, I also made a playlist for this story. Enjoy!
1. Fantasy — Moe Shop, MONICO
2. Dreamlike — Vacationer
3. Daydreamer — MYLK
4. Endless and Artificial — City Girl
5. Shapeshifting — Great Good Fine OK, Orla Gartland
6. Standing in The Back at Your Show — Wild Ones
7. Love Team — Itchyworms
8. Lover's Game — Geographer
9. Boyfriend — Tegan and Sara
10. Fade Away — Yoke Lore
11. REALiTi (Demo) — Grimes