DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HXH.

BETA: None.

Chapter 23: A Phone Call.

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'Okay.'

At that brief, affirmative reply, Kuroro bolted upright on the sofa he was laying.

It was just two weeks ago since that last bad session he and Kurapika had and he purposely didn't contact him to give time to recover, even initially planned to wait for at least a whole month if Kurapika asked for more, before getting in touch. Kuroro was a patient man and he was dead sure that Kurapika wasn't ready to face him yet, so this compliant and easy answer had Kuroro disarmed.

Kurapika agreed to meet him tonight with no excuse, objection or question asked, and it left him uneasy and relieved at the same time. It wasn't like Kurapika to respond like that but being aware of what he must be going through, he bet he was pushing himself too hard.

Kuroro knew Kurapika wasn't ready yet, because he was the same, too.

If Kuroro would act according to his discretion, the wisest move to do was leave Kurapika alone for at least a month, let him deal with his troubled mind on his own then check if he had recovered, or at least capable enough to take on to their next transactions. If yes, then the party time would go on. If not, then that was the end of it. Kuroro wasn't supposed to wonder if he was working on it, or if he was even treating himself at all. He shouldn't worry about how he was doing. He wasn't supposed to care.

But he was shameful for he, due to an unfathomable cause, was very itching to know if Kurapika was alright.

Just that for the past two week, his mind was getting poked with thoughts of Kurapika and how he was doing. He tried ignoring it, but now and then the image of the boy with his dried, bloodied lips and swollen eyes would give him this heavy feeling in his stomach. At times, he would find himself wanting to hear Kurapika's usual angry voice, while recollection of his whimpers and agonizing groans made him antsy even more.

As days went by, his desire to know what was going on with the Kuruta worsened, now that he heard from a source that Meniandro's death was all over the Mafia Community. He made one hundred percent sure that Kurapika's name wouldn't be dragged on the mess, so he doubt if he was being suspected to be a part of it. Come to think of it; he hadn't had a chance to ask why Kurapika changed his mind about his offer to finish off Meniandro.

A week later and still, Kurapika had occupied his mind most of the time and he honestly thought it was getting ridiculous and alarming.

This was very uncharacteristic of him to incessantly muse about something just because the situation was beyond his control. Another week came, days of denial, until he accepted that he indeed had to check on Kurapika so this unusual feeling could finally stop.

So he sent a text, not expecting a reply at all. He even had a moment when he couldn't think of a proper way to say that he wanted to meet up without being too authoritative. In the end, he unwittingly booked another session with him even though he wasn't in the mood (and good mindset) for it.

He was prepared for a seething reply telling him to fuck off, or a refusal with a reason related to work and security measures, even a change of time and date because he didn't want to see Kuroro's face right now, but not for a clear 'okay.'

Was it possible for Kurapika to get over from that night this fast? Kuroro thought that maybe Kurapika handled the depression and got through it like a boss since this wasn't the first time he conquered death and loss, and he was back to his usual grumpy self now. Truthfully, he wouldn't mind if that was the case. If intimidating Kurapika didn't successfully change his attitude towards him just like he intended, Kuroro supposed it really wouldn't matter to him.

If so... what would matter to him, then?

Kuroro put down the phone on the coffee table and looked at the clock hanging on the wall. The time read 3:45 PM. Some more hours to go and Kurapika would arrive here in the condo. Kuroro laid back on the sofa, mind occupied with the Kuruta again. How should he face him later, he mused. Should he ask how he was feeling first? Or maybe why he changed his mind about Meniandro? Would they have any decent conversation at all or would simply go straight to the bed? Kuroro was clueless. He heaved a deep breath.

His connection with Kurapika, day by day, was becoming more and more tangled and complicated.

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Kuroro squinted his eyes open and saw the familiar ceiling of the living room of his condo and the sofa he was on in his peripheral vision. So he fell asleep, he realized. He was about to check the time on the clock when he saw Kurapika sitting on the other couch near to where his head was. Kurapika was looking at him with a blank expression on his face and eyes... still vacant, exactly the same as the last time he saw them.

"How long have you been here?" Kuroro casually asked, sitting up.

"About five minutes," Kurapika timidly said.

Kuroro glanced at the clock. "It's 8:38. You're early."

"I didn't expect you are here and today happens to be my rest day," strange; Kurapika was answering his question without his usual bite. Then again, his questions were mundane so perhaps that was why Kurapika was giving him easy going responses.

Kuroro decided to test the water.

"I assume your boss already found out," he began. "That Meniandro was dead. How did he react?" Kuroro anticipated for Kurapika to say 'it's none of your business' when Kurapika satisfied his with an adequate answer.

"He was suspecting that I have something to do with his death. It was him who hinted that Meniandro was the one who told him about me being a Kuruta."

"Wait," Kuroro couldn't believe his ears. Kurapika was giving him this much information, really? "So you asked for my help in dealing with Meniandro because he tipped you off to Dmitri?" At that, Kurapika discreetly flinched, perhaps because he was reminded of that night.

"Dmitri confronted me about it, thinking that I was betraying him. I thought he was going to apprehend me or chuck me out, but he didn't."

"I see," Kuroro read between the lines, judging that prying on the subject matter wouldn't do him any good. "So how is Dmitri treating you now?"

Kuroro didn't miss that sudden apprehension that briefly creased Kurapika's feature.

"It's fine," Kurapika reassured. "He unexpectedly complied with my request to hand back the eyes to me, but I have to pay the price."

"How much?"

"It's... it's something you don't need to know," Kurapika declared, now with a hint of hesitance. "I'll get them on my own. And don't you dare lay finger on him. He doesn't fancy me the way Meniandro did."

"That depends," this time, Kuroro could even tell that Kurapika's heart skipped a beat. Worry coloured his expression and for some reason, this bothered Kuroro in a way he couldn't understand. "You know I intend to get the eyes, too. I can make him give the eyes—"

"Don't!" Kurapika interjected, balling his fists. "I don't need your help this time. I'll get the eyes, leave him alone."

His tone was tense but he looked as though he was pleading. It slightly resembled that expression when he asked Kuroro not to kill Meniandro.

Then it clicked. Kurapika didn't want him to kill Dmitri, too, no matter how much he was struggling in taking the scarlet eyes from him.

But... why tell him all of these now? From Kuroro's point of view, it was like Kurapika was requesting for his assistance again, just that he was unable—or reluctant—to say it directly.

Disoriented, Kuroro figured. Kurapika wasn't like himself tonight; a clear indication that he was still suffering from the trauma.

"It's almost 9. Let's get started. I need to go back to the mansion by 12." Kurapika said even though he looked as if he had something else to say. He broke their eye contact which was something he had been struggling to keep for the past minutes, then made a move as if he was about to stand up.

Kuroro couldn't mistake that concealed, petrified look on Kurapika's face. It was beyond nervousness: he was scared, something he rarely become in front of Kuroro.

"Alright," Kuroro agreed, getting on his feet. They proceeded to the bedroom, Kurapika walking behind him. Once inside, Kurapika stepped ahead as Kuroro closed the door, ambled closer to the bed then fumbled his fingers on the coat he was wearing. He removed the piece of garment and folded it. Kuroro couldn't help but watch: this was the first time Kurapika willingly stripped his clothes on his own.

"I am really in a hurry," Kurapika remarked, noting how Kuroro just stood there and watched. "We can do this quickly, right?"

"Right," Kuroro agreed again, inching closer to him. Kurapika went on with undoing the buttons of his shirt when Kuroro slipped his arms around his waist and reached for the button of his trousers. Kuroro felt an involuntary jolt from him, and he could swear he heard Kurapika held back a gasp. Kurapika tensed up, but he continued what he was doing.

Kuroro backed away a bit and unceremoniously took off his own shirt and let it fall down the floor. Kurapika slid the white shirt off of him, revealing his bare shoulders, and folded it as well. He turned around, head hung low and eyes pinned on his feet, then sat down the bed before removing his pants.

Kuroro thought he looked so mechanical. His movements were hurried yet not forced, but there he was again, not wanting to meet his eyes. To his surprise, Kurapika frigidly laid on his back.

Kurapika was never this submissive. Kuroro remembered one time when he imagined how it would be if the Kuruta would be so compliant even just once, if he would be nonchalant about getting on the bed, naked and ready, and presumed it might be exciting. But tonight, as Kurapika offered himself like that, staring at the other side of the room in apparent attempt to avoid his eyes and exposing his vulnerable neck, he felt nothing but unamused.

But he couldn't make Kurapika wait for that would signify indecision. He stepped forward, lowered his own pants until it fell down on its own due to gravity, and hovered above Kurapika. He didn't touch and part his legs yet, saving it for later if he managed to arouse Kurapika, then brought his mouth on that pale, delectable neck.

There wasn't any reaction from Kurapika, though Kuroro was sure he closed his eyes. He slid his tongue from the neck up to his ear, breathing heavily so Kurapika could hear it. He bit at the earlobe as well but still, there wasn't much response from him.

Setting aside being conceited; he knew his foreplays always aroused Kurapika. They always worked, or at least they never failed to touch his nerves. He ran his hand from his waist up to the chest until his fingers touched a nipple. Kuroro swirled his fingertip around that piece of flesh and lowered his head to lick the other... and he was disappointed of how silent and impassive Kurapika remained.

Kuroro didn't want to give up trying. He tried rubbing at his stomach, an inch down from his navel, before teasingly slipping his fingers to his crotch, above the fabric of his underwear. Kurapika visibly held his breath but Kuroro knew he was miles away from getting turned on and if he were to be honest, he could admit that he was, too.

He made another attempt; he forgot they didn't get to do this one thing that they usually did on their previous session. It was their first move on fore playing before anything else.

Kuroro was about to bring his lips closer to Kurapika's— when he turned his head to the other side, more than saying that he didn't like what Kuroro was planning to do.

Then it dawned to him: their last crappy session was being repeated again. Both of them were unwilling, Kurapika was immobile and frightened, and Kuroro was just forcing himself again. Annoyance began to fill Kuroro up. There were making fools of themselves, wasting both time and effort.

"Get yourself together!" Kuroro said, irritated and was about to aim for Kurapika's underwear to take it off when Kurapika's hands moved and pushed him away very harshly. Kuroro staggered and regained composure before he hit the wall behind him and as he straightened up, he stilled to see Kurapika huddling on the bed, chains on hand and eyes scarlet and wide with fear, both arms shaking and poised to cover himself.

"I knew it," Kuroro sighed, preventing anger to surface on his feature. "You are not in the condition to do this."

"I...I was just distracted," Kurapika lamely reasoned out. "Dmitri and all. I...I'm sorry," that apology made Kuroro damn sure that this really wasn't the right timing to go on. "Let's just try again. I—"

"No," Kuroro insisted, not wanting to make the situation worse. There was something in him that stung upon hearing Kurapika say sorry. He wanted him out of his sight now because that blunt pain inside him that he couldn't goddamned tell where was coming was seriously bothering him. "We are wasting our time. I knew you're still not in a good shape, I just checked if..." Kuroro blurted out and stopped midway as Kurapika shot him a confounded look. "... Anyway, I'm not enjoying this," he said dismissively.

"But..."

"Contact me if you have settled whatever deal you are having with Dmitri if it distracts you this much," they both knew it wasn't Dmitri who was ruining Kurapika that way. It was Kuroro. "I won't meddle if that's what you want. But if I found that—"

"I said Dmitri isn't interested in me like that," Kurapika cut him off. "In fact, I get a feeling that he hates me now, so leave him alone."

"If you said so," Kuroro retrieved his shirt, wanting to give Kurapika space when a thought crossed him mind. His mind was already on the doorknob when he muttered. "You... have you tattled to anybody about what happened?"

"...You know I can't," despite his words said almost in whisper, Kurapika heard him.

"How about friends? This is a time when they become handy, isn't it?

"You are a ruthless, dangerous monster, Kuroro Lucifer," this time, Kurapika looked him eye to eye. "You made me know that very clearly. I won't drag them even if you kill me."

Kuroro gave a derisive, fake smirk. "I see you've learned your lesson."

"I did," Kurapika started to wear his clothes back, now looking away from him.

"Kurapika," Kuroro called his name in a mild tone. Kurapika glanced back at him. "Take time as much as you need."

With that, Kuroro left the condo with the words hanging in the air, letting Kurapika work on them on his own.

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'Take time as much as you need.'

The words rung in his ears. Kurapika stared at the door where Kuroro disappeared, reading into the sentence Kuroro left on his wake. There he was again; one moment he was cruel and uncaring, the next he would show tiny shred of consideration and patience. Kuroro was being an unpredictable, double-faced bastard as always and Kurapika was getting used to it, unbeknownst to him.

Kurapika pocketed his phone after donning his clothes back on then left the deserted condo, remembering his behaviour earlier as he did so. He felt ashamed, fruitlessly pushing himself to do it no matter how much he cowered in fear. And that instinctive push he did when Kuroro raised his voice, his body just moved on its own at the thought of Kuroro being angry, of him wanting to hurt and intimidate him again. A part of him fretted about how he was going to act upon receiving his text and agreeing to meet, but he refused to accept that he likely would behave scared around him because Kurapika believed he wasn't.

As it turned out, he had taken his newly found fear towards Kuroro's capabilities for granted and embarrassed himself on the process.

He couldn't blame Kuroro for saying that he couldn't enjoy it given how pathetic he acted but he couldn't help it; his touches that had his body somehow pleased and even felt good at times were now leaving nasty reminders of his cruelty. His tongue as it ran over his skin didn't just make him feel sick, but it also insinuated impending pain and forced intrusion. His advances now indicated upcoming anguish in place of pleasure and Kurapika didn't want any more of that. Any person would do their best to protect himself before an enemy and it was pure instinct that had him push Kuroro far away from him.

He didn't want to satisfy Kuroro seeing him in such state. He didn't like him to see how much he affected Kurapika that even the mere raising of his voice had him shaking but his system betrayed him. It was more than obvious that he succeeded embedding fear in him, and Kurapika hated himself for making that display.

He didn't want to satisfy Kuroro yet his body involuntarily did, but weirdly enough, based on how Kuroro reacted, he wasn't amused or satiated at all.

For one: he declined Kurapika's offer to try again.

Granted that he might not perform at his best, Kuroro could force him to move regardless of the condition he was in. So what if he wasn't turned on by the foreplay, which happened for the first time, too? Kurapika didn't need to be aroused for Kuroro to get his way to him. He didn't have to be pleased, to climax and enjoy the act for Kuroro to get his fill. Him being submissive and open was enough— that was what Kurapika believed. Kurapika finding the sex good or not didn't matter.

Kuroro's mention of his friends baffled him, though. Well, he understood that Kuroro was implying that he should talk to his friends but why did he care? It had nothing to do with him. Kurapika's trauma was his and his problem alone. Why was he acting like he was concerned for his mental and emotional health?

'Take time as much as you need,' the phrase replayed in his mind.

'It... will certainly take time for me to get over these unnecessary feelings,' without a clue how to conquer his fear right now, Kurapika was somehow relieved to hear from Kuroro that he was willing to wait. For how long, he wasn't sure, but he needed it to be soon.

'Contact me if you have settled whatever deal you are having with Dmitri if it distracts you this much.'

He was... momentarily reminded of that time when Gon suggested him to focus on retrieving his clan's eyes first before finishing Ryodan. One problem at a time. They had a point: if Kuroro was granting him time to get himself together, why not make the most out of it?

Kurapika was on his way out of the building, feeling strangely lighter than he was before meeting Kuroro. He was right for once: he was still distressed because of his trauma, and Dmitri's treatment on him at work was making it worse.

'Get yourself together!'

Kurapika breathed in, his confidence coming back bit by bit. Perhaps he must talk to Dmitri properly, clear his name and declare resignation if he deemed it needed. Right. He could do better than this.

Beep. Beep.

Kurapika was waiting for a cab when his phone rang. He pressed the answer button without looking at the screen.

"Hello?"

"Uh, hello. Good evening," a familiar voice of a man answered from the other end of the line. "Is this Kurapika's phone?"

"Yes, and who are you, sir?" Kurapika politely asked, already recognizing who it was.

"Oh. It's you, Kurapika. I apologize for calling you at this late hour. It's me, Light Nostrade. I wonder if you have a moment for a talk."