Disclaimer: I do not own HxH. Nuff said.
He dreamt of Kurapika's smile every time he closed his eyes.
He always knew it was a dream. It had to be, with the way the blond would look at him with a light in his eyes and grin like he had just been handed the key to happiness itself. It wasn't just any smile: this was a smile he had only seen once or twice before, a smile that was part memory, part wish.
He woke up infinitely sadder when he had this dream.
Sleep was so rare, though, that he couldn't close his eyes without the image burning itself into his mind. It was only made worse with their opening, as reality forced its harsh reminder of where they stood with each slow blink. Closed, his eyes saw a past just as unlikely as his open eyes saw the possibility of a future.
He didn't know where the boys had gone; he supposed that if they were together he'd have heard the world imploding. There was no doubt in his mind that they needed a break from the dingy room, having been cooped up within those four walls for far too long. There was a sense of peace, even, in their absence. Once again, just him and Kurapika; it was as natural as anything in the world.
Except that it wasn't. Not like this.
His eyes were fighting against the urge to close, a failing battle. It didn't help that his head was resting on his arm, propped up on the bed next to the Kurta's. He'd pulled his chair up to the edge of it days ago; the mattress would no doubt have a permanent dent where he leaned against it. The other's breath was steady at least. A moment's rest could only give him more energy to devote to healing. Grimly, he wondered if it was doing any good. He had staked his life to become a Hunter, to become a doctor, but what good was that if he couldn't heal the people he cared about.
Vaguely, on the edge of consciousness, he tried to remember if his grief over Pietro had been this great.
He was out within a second, sleep opening him to a burst of light. It was fuzzy in the middle, the rays converging on the all too familiar image. The doctor let it come, waited patiently as it cleared for the face that caused his heart to ache like nothing else. He was younger, in this memory, a look of shock painting his face before it softened. The smile grew out of that, all warmth and affection, eyes crinkling as it did. The light may have been bright, but nothing was more blinding than Kurapika's smile. The dream changed, continuing past its usual threshold as the blond let out a bubbling laugh, the sound making the doctor's ears ring.
"Leorio."
He was awake in an instant, his senses registering it before his mind could make a distinction between reality and the dream. For a second, he could do nothing but stay completely still, as if he feared movement would negate what he thought he heard. His brain caught up a moment later and he jumped up, reaching out to cup the other's cheek in his hand. The blond's one visible eye was still closed, but he dared to hope anyhow.
"Kurapika," the way he said his name was nothing short of desperate, his heart speeding up at the thought of a reaction from the young man. "Are you with me? Say something, Kurapika!"
Words didn't follow, the even rise and fall of the blond's chest punctuating the quiet of the room. It took everything the doctor had not to shake him, to try and physically snap him out of his state, only the fear of harming him further kept him from actually doing it. His thumb smoothed over the other's cheek, wiping away the grime that had collected there. No, if he had been awake the doctor would have never been allowed to touch him so freely. It was one of the rules, one that was followed as strictly as anything.
The taller man's heart sunk at his nonresponse, but he kept his eyes trained on the other's face. Even in sleep, or whatever his state could be called, there was no peace to be found there. It was a wonder how the stress he'd put himself under hadn't aged him in the passing years, only just beginning to look his age while others' hair would have whitened from all they'd seen. The doctor ran his hand through the hair wasn't wrapped against his skull, taking in its softness. Such a beautiful life, it wasn't right to take it from him. For the thousandth time in days that seemed never end, tears fell from the man's eyes, staining the other's face.
He almost missed it when he flinched.
The waterworks halted, the doctor blinking rapidly as the blond's cheek twitched. His small nose scrunched, forehead lines creasing. His eye rolled under its lid, fluttering.
"Leorio."
His voice was so cracked and quiet, foreign sounding in its lack of use. His lips barely parted for the word, but his face was expressive, his disturbance clear. The doctor stared down at him, breath halted. He was dreaming. Kurapika was dreaming, and he was dreaming of him.
The doctor's hands shot out again, cradling the other's head gently as the tears began again, flowing freer than they had before. He was on the bed now, his thigh pressed against the other's arm, body curled over him. He pressed his forehead against the blond's, reveling with a sob as the motion earned him a small groan. Such small things, such infinitesimal, every day, taken for granted movements, they were proof of life. He couldn't help but shudder to think that this was what had been missing, what had almost been entirely snuffed out. Kurapika's head turned toward his slightly, as if trying to find something he could not see, and Leorio let out a choking laugh, nuzzling into the gesture, as happy as he could ever imagine being.
With the light of hope anew, he cried harder than he ever had in his life.
There was blood on the moon, a bad omen to most. For Killua, it was the outline of Kurapika's eyes, dark and angry and violent. Alive.
Killua felt the change in the air from where he was on the other side of town, hiding from amber eyes that seemed keen on seeking him out even after his warning. He was having none of it; the ex-assassin would have credited him on his persistence had the circumstances been different. Or maybe he wouldn't have. Even in the right state of mind, Gon was not someone he felt like being flexible for; he had done plenty of that back when they were together. Some things were beyond forgiveness.
Some things were worth letting go of.
He had snapped, just a little, when Gon had grabbed his hand. It was a reflex, he was sure, though they had been apart for so long that he wondered if it could really be called such. The raven haired one had tried to force another confrontation: a conversation about where they stood, about being together again, all four of them when Kurapika woke up, and ended it with the clasping of his hand. It was pure reflex, Killua justified, when he had shocked the older one- just enough to sting but not enough to do any damage. Gon had drawn back at that, his eyes strange, and given him the opportunity to disappear. Now he wished he hadn't quite gone so far.
He was back at the medical facility in a flash, despite the initial distance, his legs numb beneath him with the speed that he moved. There was no time to worry as he pushed past the unmemorable people who lined the halls as he went, his ears deaf to the cries that had convinced him of the other's fate before. The world around him fuzzed in a flurry as he rounded the last corner, coming upon the room and skidding to an unnatural stop. It wasn't until he was through the doorway that he heard the choking sob, his heart stopping as he looked in.
He paled to see the doctor leaning over the blond, his body wracking in a movement that accentuated each of the noises he made. He was holding him closely, something Killua had never seen, something that seemed as forbidden as it was intimate. He froze, wondering if he could have gotten it wrong, too shocked to reach out with his aura to touch them.
And then Leorio was looking up at him, his eyes wet but brighter than he had seen him in years, smiling tiredly through the tears. His hand stayed in the other's hair as he beckoned Killua closer, not once ceasing his hiccupping.
"He's going to come back. Kurapika's going to wake up."
The words didn't even have time to register; Killua was next to them in an instant, his weight pressing into the opposite side of the mattress as he gripped the blond's shirt, needing the touch as confirmation. Leorio's free arm wove around his shoulders, pulling him into an awkward hug above the other as he shook, and a reassurance washed over the teen immediately. He could feel it now; there was a heartbeat under his fingers, a rhythm to the other's energy that had been missing before, a small glimmer of something that separated the living from the near dead. The boy clutched at him, reaching toward his face with trepidant fingers, pulling back as he realized what he was doing.
Kurapika would live; it was all the more reason for Killua to distance himself.
It was all too much: with the warmth all around him, the familiar smell of Leorio's cologne under layers of dirt and sweat, the feel of the Kurta's shirt between his fingers. The relief that was flooding him felt painfully like home, like belonging, like finding what had been there all along. He looked down at his friend, awestruck as Kurapika shifted on his own at the excitement, and suddenly he was aware of the streams down his cheeks. He had begun crying before entering the room.
As overwhelmed as he was, Killua knew that it felt wrong. These were happy tears they were meant to share, the doctor and the killer, the two most unlikely friends in the world. Such emotive candor between them was rare, and truly to be treasured. The white haired teen couldn't help but bury his head in Leorio's shoulder, feeling as if he were sullying the moment with the twisting that was in his gut, the pain that something so wonderful was bringing him.
Kurapika would live; which meant that once again, it was time for Killua to leave.
Yet he let the moment pass, pushing the dark thoughts away with the reminder of how he was held, how he was cared for, how he was allowed to do the same for them in turn. He'd be damned if he ruined something else wonderful, damned if he let it be taken away. He wouldn't have it for much longer anyway.
The weight that seemed to hover over the room lifted, like the rumbling of thunder from a storm already braved. It was as if the smell of death around them lessened, the sky outside had grown brighter, the cries from outside were instead a humble chorus. Killua guarded himself with these observed changes, held himself against the doctor as his shaking turned to laughter, strengthened himself enough to remember what this moment felt like. He watched as Kurapika's features smoothed, a restful transition, as Leorio stroked his cheek with care. He recalled what it was like to wish for such comfort, and leaned into what he got.
It was painfully easy to ignore the presence in the doorway, always behind on the discoveries, and weep happily with his family.
Moving towards the shounen-ai, gasp!
So, where are my reviewer friends? Hello? *is alone in the universe*