You are the sun in the desolate sky
And your life's in these words and it can't be denied
Wherever you take me, it's clear I will go
Your love's the one love that I need to know
Your love's the one love that I need to know
~"Boxes," Goo Goo Dolls
Hisoka checked his email and groaned. Netero was not happy at all to find out he'd been living in a house with stolen goods. His scholarship was even more at risk now.
Hisoka hadn't actually stolen any of it, but he didn't see the point in bringing that up. No one would care, including himself. He knew about it, obviously. Kurapika's lawyer friend said that they were taking Chrollo's case, and it wouldn't be hard to work out a plea bargain. But that was jail time, not whether or not he could stay at college, which seemed unlikely.
And Hisoka felt no sense of glistening satisfaction over it. All he felt was his fingernails digging into the flesh of his palms. Like it or not, Chrollo did let him live there even if against his better judgement. Maybe that was why Hisoka wanted to mess with him so badly. He never did well with charity. He always presumed people were using it to get something from helping another. Which Chrollo was.
But was it all bad? Was he trying to hurt them?
Hisoka did not know how to answer that question.
The house was cleared for them to move back to within three days, during which Hisoka skipped classes because he didn't feel like getting arrested himself if he saw Tserriednich and losing his reputation for fighting that bastard for someone else. Soon an email from Netero appeared in his inbox about that precise subject.
Get off my case, Hisoka wrote back to him.
"Stop sabotaging yourself," Illumi snapped. He sat up next to Hisoka.
"Aren't you supposed to be picking up Kalluto?" Hisoka asked. "He's coming back, right?"
"I suppose," said Illumi.
"You're sabotaging yourself too, you know," taunted Hisoka.
Illumi scowled. "Don't try to twist it back to me. Part of you wants to get kicked out, right? So then you can fight back and still succeed? Well, what if you don't? What if you actually lose? Chrollo's losing now, you know."
Hisoka produced the heart-shaped stress ball, squeezing it. "You can just say that you care." He tossed his boyfriend a smirk.
Illumi studied him.
"I don't want to get kicked out." Hisoka leaned back. "I don't know what I want." And he didn't like this sense of confusion, of not knowing, of not having a clear and concise goal. Which is what he would have to face if he graduated. At least if he didn't, he could find a new school. But he refused to lose at anything. No challenge was worth that humiliation. "I don't lose." He did not want to go through anything like what Chrollo was going through.
Illumi clucked his tongue. "You don't want to lose to Netero and do what he expects of you, then. So it's a tightrope."
"I'm breaking up with you."
"No you aren't."
I'm not good with charity. Not at all. Hisoka leaned back. "I don't want to be the school's poster child for their do-gooding for poor kids. Especially when the school has trash like Nasubi and what's-his-face working here. Bizeff."
I don't want to be their doll. I don't want to be anyone's toy. I want to be me. I want to be able to do what I want. I want to make my own choices. I want to be me. People who had prestige and the right to do that without ever fighting for it—he despised them. Is there even a way to do that without making dolls of everyone around you?
I don't want you as a doll. I like you as you.
Illumi reached for him, and Hisoka thought, again, of how he broke Illumi's expectations of him. I don't want to be in a cage.
Illumi grew up in a cage, but he never looked at Hisoka like he had to fight for his respect. Even when he shouldn't have it, he had it. And he couldn't explain that, but it was a chain and yet it was freeing, too. I want to be me. But, I want to be yours.
"You don't have to be," said Illumi. "I think you'd get to decide. If they think they own you, show them they don't. And if you want to be, you can always expose them for their bullshit."
What Illumi gave him, he couldn't earn. He'd done nothing to earn it. Was it charity, then? Then why don't I hate it?
He knew why. You are the same.
He rested his hand on the back of Illumi's neck. "Go get your brother."
"I will." Illumi got to his feet. He bit his lip.
"You know," said Hisoka. "It's not that you don't have power in your family. It's that you don't know how to use it properly."
"Huh?" Illumi gaped.
"Your siblings need you," Hisoka said. "Because kids are stupidly needy like that. Including Killua. Some stability might be nice."
"I don't understand."
"Maybe stopping fighting them for your parents doesn't mean not fighting at all, but fighting for them. I'd help you." And that was why they worked. "Your parents wouldn't have to put Alluka and Killua and Kalluto through a trial then. You're the only shot at not having one."
"I'm testifying—"
"So?"
"I don't know whether they'd want me to!" Illumi cried out. He clutched his hair. "I—hate myself! I don't know what to do, I don't know how to—love them—"
"It's not rocket science, Illumi. Ask them." Hisoka had a strong suspicion he knew what they'd say. It was definitely what Kalluto wanted. "If you move out, I'll go with you. Pakunoda says it's better for families to stay together, anyways."
"Stop quoting our psychology major friend."
"Oh, so you're admitting we have friends?"
"So are you?"
"When we first met I heard you telling Killua no one needed friends!"
"Shut up."
"Make me."
"Can't. Gotta pick up my brother. And no, I'm not sending you nudes to help you out." Illumi swished out of the room.
Hisoka flopped back onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling. The glow-in-the-dark stars stared down at him, not glowing, but they didn't need to be.
When he eventually dragged himself to that bench on campus, it took only twenty minutes for her to approach. "Yes?"
"You live in one of the nearby dorms, don't you?" Hisoka asked. This time he turned around to face her, resting his arm on the back of the bench.
She shrugged.
"You heard what Tserriednich arranged for. He got a professor to call the police."
"Shocking."
"I'm going to destroy him," Hisoka said icily. "As much as I can."
Morena blinked. "Why?"
"Illumi and I got back together."
She laughed. "Pathetic. So he is weak."
"No," said Hisoka. "He's strong. And you're still a lonely bitch determined to lash out, so maybe do some good with it instead of drowning like some nihilistic turd."
She arched her eyebrows. "Classy."
He snorted. "Neither us of should pretend to be."
"What are you asking me to do? I have no interest in helping Chrollo Lucilfer or your little house of horrors."
"Nothing," Hisoka said. "Whatever you plan to do, if you have a plan. I just wanted to rub it in your face that Illumi and I got back together. Chew on that." He turned and sauntered off. When he glanced over his shoulder, she was staring at the brown grass. Well, he'd tried to be Machi and Feitan for her. Up to her now.
"I hate this," Machi said, staring into her hot chocolate, her face green. Feitan sat next to her, pressing her wrist for acupressure. "I want everyone back."
Oito swallowed her chai. The spice stung. And still, the feeling that it was her fault bit into her, shaking her like a savage dog, refusing to let her go in its quest to kill and consume her. She'd always felt this way, hadn't she? Just less viciously. Her parents were constantly complaining about having one more mouth to feed. Constantly. The looks they gave her.
She tried to get straight As, to please them. They never even looked. And then she decided to keep getting them, to escape. Not for herself. It'd never been for herself.
I want to survive.
I want to live.
I want Woble to live. I don't want her to just endure.
She finished her chai. The door opened, and Illumi entered with Kalluto. Kalluto ran immediately to Machi and Feitan, and Illumi lowered his gaze. "Oito?"
"Yes?" She washed her mug out.
"Can you get me in touch with Cheadle?" He kept his voice low.
"Hm?"
He glanced at Kalluto. "I want to talk to her about if it'd even be possible to—to try to get custody of my siblings."
Oito's eyes widened.
"I still want to be a family," Illumi insisted. "If they want to—I mean—I want to ask if she even thinks it'd be possible before I talk to them about it."
Because you're scared. "You should talk to Mito Freecss, too. She was only eighteen when she got custody of Gon," said Oito.
Illumi swallowed. He nodded. "And you're taking Woble, and we're the same age—so—it's probably even more of a commitment for you; she's so young—"
"She's my daughter," Oito said, voice wobbling.
"Still," said Illumi, staring out the window onto the green lawn, lit up by the sun. "I think that's brave."
Me? Brave? She just wanted to protect her child. Kids in general. She wasn't anything special, and she certainly wasn't brave.
Illumi gave her a small smile.
"I'll text her number to you," Oito promised.
He nodded and headed towards the stairs, climbing two at a time. Hisoka waited upstairs, surely.
You still want your siblings. You love them.
"Hey Machi," said Oito. "I have a favor to ask you."
That evening, Kurapika visited and asked them all for a statement. Chrollo's expulsion hearing was coming up even before his court date.
"Do you think it'll work?" Phinks asked Oito afterwards.
"I think we have to try," Oito said. She wiped at her eyes.
He put his hand on her shoulder, patting awkwardly.
"Machi's watching Woble for a few hours," said Oito. "Practice. So if you wanted to talk…"
Phinks nodded. He hesitated. "Have you ever been to my room?"
She shook her head, following him down the hallway. The room was decorated with crookedly-hung sports posters, a mini basketball hoop that one might buy for a five year old, and a bookcase with movies piled high in uneven stacks. Phinks scratched the back of his head. "Seems like kinda a mess."
"That's okay," said Oito, investigating his movie collection.
"You know," said Phinks, standing in front of the bed that was not made. "If you wanted to go back to school, if we all live in this huge house, then Woble would never be without someone to watch her, and—"
"That's not sustainable forever," Oito pointed out. She found a copy of Cinderella and smiled.
"Does it have to be forever?"
Oito paused. Her heart hammered in her throat. She held up the movie, smirking at him.
"Oh, I think I probably stole that one."
She arched her eyebrows.
"I'm a thief," he said, shrugging.
"Still? Forever?"
"No," said Phinks. "I'm about to graduate. With a real degree." He puffed out his chest, as if proud.
"It was my favorite movie as a little girl," said Oito. "I wanted to be Cinderella. I thought I could be."
"Nasubi was more like you married the dad."
Oito laughed. "True. And I was dark haired, and—"
"So? I think your hair is beautiful. And you're kind, like her."
"So you have seen it." Oito pointed her finger at him.
"Everyone has!" he protested.
"I bet you have other kids cartoons in here." He did. Beauty and the Beast. Rapunzel. Sleeping Beauty. Snow White.
"Well, if Woble wants to—"
She grabbed the back of his neck, standing on tiptoe. He gaped down at her. She brushed her lips against his. "Sorry. Please don't think I'm a slut." Her face burned. Why had she said that? And she didn't even ask—
"I mean," said Phinks. "I kind of wouldn't care if you were? I'm a thief. We were just discussing that. And for the record, I know you're not."
She blinked. You want it too, don't you?
Something, someone, a smile.
He leaned down, pressing his lips against hers again. He cupped her chin, and he broke through her lips, mouth exploring hers. He was careful, gentle, curious. Nasubi had always been—determined. He acted like all he knew were porn films, despite having kids by seven other women.
"I think—you're beautiful," Phinks gasped, breaking away for a moment before diving back down. "I think—you're kind—you don't have to be perfect—"
It's not perfect.
It doesn't have to be.
It's beautiful.
Oito drew back, panting. She reached for her silk top and undid the strings. It fell to her waist, and she yanked it off. She fumbled with her bra strap.
Phinks's eyes bugged. His mouth opened and closed. "Are you for real?"
"If you want to," said Oito.
"Hell yeah," said Phinks. He rubbed his eyes.
"Haven't you seen a boob before?" She couldn't resist teasing him.
"Not yours!"
She laughed.
"You are special," Phinks murmured into her ear. "You are. You are."
She lay on her back, Phinks kissing her chest, caressing her face as he treated her body like it was a precious statue. She pulled his tracksuit off, and he glanced at her, checking if it was okay before pulling her skirt and underwear away.
Phinks was slow, careful, as if afraid of breaking her. She dug her fingers into his ribs, feeling the space between. She arched her back up, kissing his neck, his chin, his chest.
So this is what it's like… to be with someone who cares. To want and have wanted the wrong things and want again and still go for it. To try again.
It's not perfect.
But—it's worth a shot.
When both of them shook, Phinks held her against his damp chest, his hair just as missed as hers. He exhaled, and she closed her eyes.
I feel safe.
"Are you for real right now?" Palm gaped at Melody.
"Unfortunately," Melody said with a sigh. "I wish Kurapika could get a break."
None of us can, can we? Melody had to live with her dead friend and her body permanently disfigured in a car wreck, and yet. And yet, she seemed so at peace.
I could get a break if just one person loved me. Palm pulled her knees to her chest. She leaned back against the couch. Kurapika had found that person, and now it was all falling apart. She watched as Komugi hummed to herself as she puttered around the kitchen. "At least you have Meruem," Palm said.
"Hm?" Komugi turned around. "Oh! Yeah. And now his friends and I get along."
Youpi, Pitou, and Pouf. Even Pouf. Crazy. Palm tugged at her hair. "Pouf hasn't like tried to steal your homework or anything?"
"Not lately. I think he was just scared of losing his friend. And now we're friends, too. It took time, though."
And effort. Palm bit her lip. Her blood tasted bitter today.
"Tserriednich is involved," Melody said. "It's just that he's bitter at Oito. If he wasn't, this wouldn't be happening. Granted, Chrollo did steal, but still. It's unfair."
"Tserriednich?" snapped Palm. Her heart suddenly picked up pace. She remembered what Milluki had said.
Melody frowned. "Yes."
It won't help Chrollo. But—but—they're going to keep using their power to hurt people, right?
"I can help Kurapika," said Palm. "I mean, for Chrollo. Since he helped me."
Melody blinked.
"And I have something to do." Palm turned on her heel and stalked out of the apartment. She dialed Milluki.
"Who makes phone calls any more?" he greeted her.
"You answered, so shut up," Palm said. "Do you still have footage of Tserriednich visiting Bizeff? Do they like time up with his other—tapes?" She squeezed the phone so tightly her knuckles ached.
"I could check," Milluki said carefully. "Why?"
"I want to know," Palm said. Her breaths came harsh, scraping her nostrils, her throat. "They're both creeps, right? They're both—they—"
"Hey Palm," said Milluki. "Okay, I'll check, but like don't—"
She hung up. The world felt like it was closing in around her, like trees were the teeth of a monster known as this fucking world, and they were going to gobble her up, the the grass was a scratchy tongue her feet were stuck to, like the sky was trapping her like a roof of a mouth, like the clouds lurking on the horizon were lips closing, closing, closing.
She came to and realized she was outside of Tserriednich's dorm room. Her fingernails had dug into her forearms. Blood dribbled down but it felt cold instead of warm and that was wrong. She shook from head to toe.
"Palm!" huffed a voice.
She turned. Milluki Zoldyck jogged up to her, panting. He looked warm. She was jealous. Always jealous. "What?"
"Why are you here?"
"You know why."
"Listen, Palm, I checked just a few and they do seem to line up with him visiting before, but—"
"They're working together," Palm said. "He gave me my drink that night. I didn't finish it though. Maybe that's why I was able to push Bizeff off and run out."
Milluki's face drained of color. "And what are you going to do?"
Her eyes latched onto the door. "I don't know. Something. Anything. I'm sick of—I always have to—wait and do—nothing."
"Palm, we can go to—"
"No."
"Okay, but—"
The door to the dorm opened. And he came out, blond hair dangling down his collar. Palm broke into a run, charging at him. Milluki let out a whimper.
"Do I know you?" asked Tserriednich.
"You drugged me," Palm said. "You tried to. I know you did. For Bizeff. You find him girls, don't you? In exchange for what? Do you both do it together? Do you have orgies? Or does he give you some kind of fatherly affection or—"
"You're that insane freshman, right?" Tserriednich asked. "The stalker one. Go back to whatever freakshow of a manga you escaped from."
"It's true and everyone knows you're a bloody rapist!" Palm screamed.
"Take her away," Tserriednich commanded Milluki.
Milluki scowled. "No. She's not something I control. She's a person."
"If you want to talk about abusers, hon, look at his family," said Tserriednich. "Keep spreading rumors and I'll sue you for libel."
I can't win.
This world—sucks. Palm clenched her fists. Give me—something! Anything!
"Slut," Tserriednich added before he tossed his hair.
Milluki swung at him. Tserriednich yelped, stumbling backwards with blood spurting from his nose. He glared up at Milluki from his knees. "You prick!" His shriek came out garbled.
"You aren't invincible," Milluki informed him.
"Fuck you," Palm said. Air flooded her lungs. Her fingers tingled. She could move again. "Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. If it's the last thing I do, I will get you kicked out of this university." She grabbed Milluki's arm, dragging him away.
"The fuck?" Milluki panted.
"That was awesome," Palm said. "Thanks for hitting him."
"He deserved it."
Palm swallowed. "Time to talk to Cheadle."
"Or to me," interrupted another voice. A woman with two scars over her eyes and a weird headband smiled at them. "Tserriednich is my wicked half-brother."
Jail fucking sucked. After the first night when they fingerprinted him, took his photograph with a jailbird number in front of him, and then led him to a cell, Chrollo pretty quickly realized this was a part of the human experience he never wanted to experience. It was cold in his cell and he was alone and he was lonely. Even if only for less than a week so far, this place made Chrollo feel like his brain was dissolving and running in rivulets out his ears and eyes and nose and mouth. He couldn't take it any more. Not even books, his typical friends, would comfort him.
Kurapika must hate him for sleeping with him while being a thief. Hell, Kurapika probably hated himself now for it, too. Instead of helping Kurapika he'd only hurt him worse than he had to begin with. Chrollo bit his wrist, the salty sting of blood on his tongue reminding him that he was, for now, alive, and he wasn't terribly happy about it. He wasn't sad, either. He didn't know what to feel, except that he hated it here and that he was a complete and utter failure, and he'd lost what he was desperate for just when he finally had it.
Kurapika would probably tell him to save his apologies. Chrollo squeezed his eyes shut. You really couldn't trust me.
But I'm sorry.
Tears leaked down his face. He didn't remember the last time he'd cried. If he ever had.
"You," said a guard. "Get your things."
Huh? Chrollo dragged himself to his feet.
"You bailed me out?" Chrollo gaped at Mizaistom.
"Lawyer, so no," said Mizaistom. "Your expulsion hearing is tomorrow and we felt you should be there. I convinced a judge to let you out."
"Thanks."
Mizaistom drove him to a cheap motel, telling him to be on time the next morning. Chrollo wondered if he could call his friends. But the cops had taken his phone.
I'm so alone.
I wanted to be separate.
But not like this.
He thought of Kurapika, of kissing him and the noises he made, and how Kurapika must now know just how fucked up he was. Mr. Justice would never be able to look at him now, would he?
I wish I could be like you.
His friends were probably all kicked out of that house too, now. All homeless. Oito would have nowhere to go, Machi and Feitan were expecting a kid, Illumi—
Everyone I tried to help, I hurt. When they were most vulnerable.
Chrollo didn't sleep the entire night.
Mizaistom met him as he approached the president's office building. He gestured to Chrollo's forehead. "Shouldn't you be hiding that?"
Chrollo frowned. "There's no point." They already thought him a delinquent, so why not confirm it, get it over with? "I don't care what happens to me. I just don't want them to take it out on my friends."
Mizaistom sighed. "Okay, kid."
Chrollo didn't like being called that. Maybe because he'd never been called that. He folded his arms, heading up the stairs to the president's board room, where the school's committee would judge him. Nasubi was on the committee.
"Nasubi's been asked to recuse himself," Mizaistom said, hand gripping Chrollo's shoulder.
Didn't matter. Everyone else would know him and certainly—
Chrollo froze when he reached the hallway. What? What is this? What his happening what—
"Chrollo!" burst out Kurapika, leaping to his feet. Long benches lined the walls, and—everyone from his house was there. Even Hisoka, hand on Illumi's knee. Oito, with Woble, sitting next to Phinks. Machi, still looking like it was all she could do not to puke. Nobunaga, looking like he was contemplating stabbing everyone around him. Leorio Paladiknight and Pairo flanked Kurapika.
Chrollo let out an oof when Kurapika grabbed him in a hug. "Wh—" I don't understand!
"We're here for you," said Uvogin gruffly. "Danchou."
Kurapika pulled away.
"But…" Chrollo swallowed. Hell, Melody, Komugi with Meruem, Palm Siberia—they were here too.
Kurapika's eyes were red. They stole Chrollo's breath. "It's gonna be okay."
How?
You know I did it, don't you? You know, and you're still here—for me?
"Let's go," said Mizaistom, pushing Chrollo through the crowd and into the room. He and Chrollo took seats at the end of the table. Netero sat at the other end, and next to him sat Professor Hill. Not a single face was friendly, and he knew in his bones at that moment that there was no chance.
Chrollo stiffened. Dammit.
"Let's get started," said Netero as the door shut with a click. "Regarding the criminal charges—"
"We will be pleading guilty in exchange for community service," Mizaistom interrupted. Stupid lawyers. Speaking for you.
"Fine then." Netero cleared his throat. "We have here dozens of character statements."
"Huh?"
"All of them are speaking in favor of your character, Mr. Lucilfer," Netero said. "From your housemates, and some classmates and even some graduate students concerning an incident at a party—"
What? How did— Chrollo swallowed. I might as well go all in, right? This hearing's decided, isn't it?
I'll do what I can with what I have. "You realize you have the perpetrator of that incident employed at this school? I don't care if you kick me out, but you should kick him out, too."
"Please shut up," hissed Mizaistom.
"What incident?" asked Professor Hill. "I believe we all—"
"Don't deserve to know, because none of us believe you'll do anything about it," said Chrollo.
"Palm Siberia stated it in her statement," said Netero. "The committee does not need to know."
"Why is Professor Hui Guo Rou still here when he beat his wife?" asked Chrollo. "Why am I being judged by colleagues of his? Why am I expected to think that's just? And who the hell gives you the right to judge me for stealing from the rich to survive when he beat his wife for no reason and Professor Bizeff's a rapist and—"
"Good Robin Hood reference," muttered Professor Hill.
"A what?" demanded Professor Freecss, seemingly waking up from his nap. "What the—"
"Oh, and this one ditched his kid," said Chrollo. "Don't pretend you give a shit about morality when you don't. You just want to look good."
Netero arched his eyebrows. A slight smile spread on his face. Mizaistom exhaled.
"Do you even want to stay at this school?" asked Netero.
"Yes," said Chrollo. "No. I don't know. I don't care. If I want to learn morality I'll go to my friends sitting outside. Not to you. You can make any judgment you like. I don't care."
Because I'll be okay.
No matter what you decide.
They came for me. They wrote for me. Kurapika—you did it all because you forgave me, and because I—I never held it against you.
I have so much to learn from all of you.
"Why do they call you Danchou? Sounds like a cult," mused Professor Hill.
"Your mind is already made up, I see," said Chrollo. "But for the record, it's because we ran around on the streets of Meteor City together and they wanted me to lead them. I never asked. And I do want to stay here. But you won't let me because of the rules saying no one with a criminal record can stay without review, and you're too busy with your own endeavors to give a shit about what might motivate me to do that."
"And you led your friends here and not out of thievery," continued Professor Hill, smile still pleasant in his face. "A shame you don't understand responsibility."
"I do understand it," said Chrollo. "Now. Probably better than you, I'm guessing." I can hurt people I don't even know yet, but people who will matter to me. Like Kurapika. And even if not to me, they'll matter to someone.
We all matter, don't we?
