This fic is supposed to take place in a situation where Chrollo helped Kurapika retrieve the eyes and they just finished doing so. I tagged Chrollo twice to be sure to appear in the research but I'll spell it Chrollo.
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Also, there is a French version to this fic available on my profile.
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"... So what now?" Chrollo questionned, careful with his words. Kurapika's mental state was as fragile as it could be. His clan's murderer was back to the tribe's land, and he was the one who had brought the scarlet eyes back.
"I don't know." Kurapika answered slowly without moving from where he was sitting, staring at the grave. "I didn't plan anything after that. I think I was supposed to die chasing you."
Of course, the righteous self-sacrificial Kurta hadn't thought he'd see so much days. He probably didn't believe he'd retrieve the eyes. He always assumed he'd die and end up as the 37th pair of scarlet eyes on the market.
Chrollo got down on one knee after a moment of silence, kneeling to the Kurta's level. "Come to Meteor City with me."
"What?" The blond asked weakly, confused.
"Really, my hometown is no pretty place." he said in all honesty. "There are endless piles of trash, we literally live in it, but it's the only thing we have."
His eyes were met by Kurapika's questionning ones. "Quite often, some piles fall down and when it happens, the most ancient trash comes back to the surface. That's usually when we find the oldest dead bodies, sometimes torn apart or melting already. Putrefaction is something you see for the first time when you're a child. Childhood is somewhat of a foreign concept too. You don't have time nor strength for it, for you use all the relaxation time you have to sleep while you can. When we met, Pakunoda, Uvogin and I, things got a lot easier since we had each other's back. She's the one who taught me how to read." He materialized his book with a smile. "Finding books isn't as difficult as you'd think, really. All the books they want gone for putting the spotlights on a controversial part of society, if they don't burn them, they throw it, and Meteor City is the biggest dumpster in the world. I found out about Benevolov's tribe before I was made aware of the simple existence of schools. Someone's trash says a lot about them, and we discovered first the world's hypocrisy and lies."
Kurapika looked away for a few seconds and Chrollo waited until their eyes met again. Only then did he get back to his story.
"We live amongst trash and criminals, it felt more like surviving if you ask me. We had to learn Nen by ourselves, at the earliest age to protect ourselves from the acid rains. It would burn the skin and make our surroundings even more dangerous. Piles were deathtraps, one wrong move and you'd trip. Trust me, you really don't want to fall. Surfaces you could use to climb by the past were suddenly holed, burning and unstable. That's amongst the trials from Meteor City. If you make it out alive after the rain, you're allowed to stay. The city accepts you. The companionship you smith in Meteor City will last until you're alone or dead."
The image of the Phantom troupe, Pakunoda and Uvogin flashed through both their minds. They let it go, quietly, patiently almost gently and Chrollo resumed his tale.
"It all gets worse during summer. The sun's heat makes the air unbreathable, due to the smell. It never smells good or even neutral, it's always that perfume of rotten. But the warmer the temperature, the more it reeks. All kind of scents exist in Meteor City, from piss to corpses or ashes. You could try all day to find some fresh air, you'd never succeed. With the summer, the already scarce food decays even faster and people die trying to eat it. No amount of nen can protect you from a disease."
He watches carefully Kurapika's expression, trying in vain to decipher his thoughts. The Kurta was drinking his words the way he probably drank all the knowledge that was given to him.
"So, really, my hometown is no pretty place, but, when the heat is scorching and stench of trash nauseating all day long, when night finally, finally falls, you see the prettiest sky."
"You want to go..."
"Watch the shooting stars of Meteor City. It'll be the beginning soon. Are stars worth the discomfort and the foul smell. What do you think? Say, Kurapika, would you come and watch the shooting stars with me?"
Kurapika was no fool. He could see the way Chrollo's eyes were sparkling. The Spider simply loved his hometown. It was the only place he would never leave. He could go to the other side of the world but no one who ever stepped into Meteor City would have an identity outside. Going to Meteor City meant dying for everyone else and no one would ever consider you again.
What Kuroro was offering him wasn't a trip to see shooting stars. It was freedom.
Let the Kurta tribe disappear and come back on your own.
Let them die and come back freed from those chains.