I'm at a loss for words under a full moon
Staring at the ceiling of a white room
Does the mirror in the corner see my shame too?
Or a different view?
On the porch the ceiling's painted baby blue
Dressed to the nines just like the sky in early afternoon
'Cause its midnight and the ghosts might be coming soon
Song: Nola 1- PVRIS
As the dark-haired man lifted Kurapika up, pulling out of him, Kurapika decided now was as good of a time as any to talk. "Chrollo," he breathed, as he tugged the Spider's wet hair backwards to look at his face.
"Hmm?" Chrollo's voice was low and he closed his eyes, enjoying the warm water as it sprinkled onto his skin. Chrollo had insisted on the bathroom this time around, and the two stood tangled up together in the shower, post-intercourse.
"How old are you?"
Chrollo's eyes opened to look at Kurapika. "How about an answer for an answer? I have a question for you as well."
Kurapika contemplated for a moment, before deciding that overall it was a pretty low risk trade. "Deal."
"Then, I'm 27."
He's only four years older than me, Kurapika thought in surprise.
Chrollo spoke again, taking his attention. "Your turn. What did Hisoka require in exchange for telling you our location?"
Memories of that strange, windy, and cursed day in Park Central came flooding back in a wave. The stilt in that Clown's walk; the way he licked his lips at Kurapika; the lie Kurapika had told Leorio. Kurapika stifled a shudder before he said, "he just wanted this police substance from the eighties. It's called Bungee Gum."
"Bungee Gum..." Chrollo repeated, a thoughtful look on his face. "I can't say I've heard of it."
"Yeah, it's pretty obscure and outdated. It didn't really catch on in the force. Hisoka said he needed it for an 'experiment', whatever that means," Kurapika said, hands shaping into air quotes.
"I see," Chrollo said, pulling Kurapika against him and lightly combing his fingers through his golden hair, which had turned more of a light brown after it was drenched with water. Kurapika looked over Chrollo's shoulder to see that the shower's glass walls were now opaque with steam, creating a small enclosure around the two men.
Kurapika was suddenly intimidated by the tight space. He still needed to find out more, so he decided to ask another question he'd been thinking about.
"Why did you get this?" he asked as he poked Chrollo in the forehead, where the black ink formed a permanent mark on his skin. "It's Saint Peter's cross, right?"
Chrollo pulled back slightly and blinked in surprise, allowing hot water to fall in between their naked chests. He raised an eyebrow at Kurapika. "You're correct, it is Saint Peter's cross." He paused, then his lips danced upward into a mischievous smile. "Let's make a deal. I'll tell you about the cross if you'll tell me what your deal is with chains. My friends found quite a few of them on you that night."
Kurapika's eyes widened. He had not been expecting that question at all. He looked away blankly, not really knowing the answer himself. God, why did Chrollo have to call him out like this? At that moment, he thought that he'd rather Chrollo have him tortured by Feitan again than have to answer this question. He wracked his brain for an explanation anyway, wanting to satiate his curiosity about the cross tattoo. Chains... chains... why exactly did he like them so much?
Kurapika turned back, looking Chrollo straight in the eyes. "I guess I like the symbolism. There's a lot of evil in this world that needs to be chained down."
Chrollo's eyes sparkled with amusement at Kurapika's answer, and he threw his head back, laughing. "Sounds about right."
Kurapika blushed and looked away, realizing how stupid he just sounded. "Well? What's your thing then?" He pushed against Chrollo's bare shoulder making him step backwards out of the shower-head's reach. With Chrollo out of the way Kurapika moved to stand in the middle of the shower, hogging the whole thing. Ah, much better.
Chrollo moved back in immediately, wrapping his arms around Kurapika's waist. "I got this tattoo for similar reasons. I liked the symbolism."
Now it was Kurapika's turn to laugh. "You mean to tell me that you got a tattoo because you think you're not worthy of the same death as Jesus? Really?" Chrollo was literally the last person Kurapika expected to be religious, let alone have a tattoo of a religious symbol that represented submission and humility.
Chrollo tangled a hand through Kurapika's wet hair. "Although that is the origin of the cross, over time the meaning has evolved into more of an anti-establishment symbol." His face turned pensive in thought. "Consider it a subtle boycott of traditional institutions."
As someone who worked for the government and grew up wearing traditional tribal clothing, Kurapika felt the need to ask: "And what, exactly, have these institutions done to you?"
Chrollo sighed dejectedly, looking away. "Ah blondie. It's easy to overlook corruption when you've always been in society's good graces, and it's easy to hold to traditions when you've never witnessed the harm they can cause."
Kurapika's narrowed his eyes at Chrollo's cryptic answer. "Don't patronize me," he said.
Chrollo didn't respond. Instead, he stepped out of the water and shook his hair once, before reaching for a towel and exiting the shower. "I should get going."
Although his fingers were pruning, Kurapika stayed in the shower until Chrollo left, pretending not to care that he'd just been dismissed and walked out on, again. Chrollo could be so infuriating, yet so charming that Kurapika would almost forget the villain he really was, and even enjoy his company sometimes. That is, until he would say something that completely went against everything Kurapika had ever known and valued, making Chrollo's gentlemanly facade come crumbling down in his face.
Kurapika finally turned off the shower and dried off. As the steam disappeared from the mirror, Kurapika locked eyes with an angry face—an indicator that he should probably try to calm down. He took a deep breath and slipped on a T-shirt and some sweatpants, making his way to the bed. Before he fell asleep he wondered what happened in Chrollo's life to make him hate the government and traditions so much. The government had given Kurapika a home, a job, and had helped him when he had lost everything. Similarly, throughout his life, the Kurta traditional rituals and clothing had helped him feel connected to his lost brethren, and had enabled him to hold on to the memories of his old life. Maybe Chrollo was indoctrinated from a young age to hate society? Or was all of that a lie, and Chrollo was just messing with his head? Either way, Kurapika was determined to find out.
—
There were two chains left on his vanity, next to a small box when Kurapika woke up. This time, with a note that said:
Here's your old chain.Also, I found these other items yesterday, and thought you might like them. -Chrollo
Kurapika fought back a smile as he read the note—he was just a little bit too happy to have his chains back. The new accessory Chrollo had given him was nice and simple. It was a plain silver chain, with two hooks on either end. He hooked it onto his belt loop, trying it out. As he observed the chain's bottom grazing his mid-thigh, he couldn't help it anymore—his lips turned up into a soft smile. He then decided to open the small velvet box, which contained a small silver chain-link earring that had a red gem dangling from it.
Huh, he thought. Chrollo must have noticed the holes in his earlobe at some point, left from when he had gotten into earrings in high school. How was this man so incredibly observant?
As he put on the earring in front of the mirror, the gem glinted and refracted from the vanity light. The color popped with so much of a dense, scarlet hue that the gem couldn't simply be made out of plastic or glass. Indeed, Kurapika deduced it must be either a ruby or a diamond. Kurapika shook his head lightly from side to side, admiring the way the earring sparkled as it swung around his face. His moment was interrupted as he heard a knock at his door. "One second!" he said as he went to go open it.
Shalnark stood holding a tray of food. "Hey Pika! Good morning!" He exclaimed with a smile as he walked in. "You must be hungry! How's it going?"
Kurapika blinked, taken aback at this new friendly greeting. "Pika...?" he mumbled, as the image of a certain tall policeman with tiny glasses flashed into his brain.
"Pika, you know, like Kurapika, but only the last part. I thought of it myself today," he said while putting his hands on his hips, making him look like a proud toddler. Kurapika wasn't about to burst his bubble with the fact that he'd had that nickname for a while. Shalnark then looked around at Kurapika's room, inspecting. "You must be getting so bored in here! You know, you can come out into the main area of the warehouse anytime you'd like."
Kurapika's jaw threatened to drop at the sudden invitation. Not one of the Troupe members besides Chrollo had ever really spoken to him before, let alone been nice to him. Didn't Shalnark hate him for killing his friends? "Um... alright... I'll think about it," Kurapika said nervously, not yet trusting the sudden niceties.
"Sweet! Well anyway, this food is really good! We've got breakfast burritos today, with fresh salsa, orange juice, and a homemade latte." Shalnark set the tray down on Kurapika's vanity and leaned against the side as he spoke. Kurapika thought that his bubblegum pink outfit, bowl-cut-blonde hair, and bright blue eyes made him seem innocent and endearing—a stark contrast to everything his life had been lately.
"... Thanks," Kurapika said hesitantly. He shifted awkwardly, moving forward to grab the latte as Shalnark took out his phone. Kurapika couldn't help but gape in awe as he saw the device in his hands. "Wait... is that the uPhone Z?" he heard himself ask impulsively.
Shalnark looked up from the screen, beaming. "It sure is! Wanna see?" He asked, holding the phone out to Kurapika.
As Kurapika held the phone in his hands, his mouth still agape in disbelief. The phone was completely black on the front, and the entirety of it lit up with the time and date when he pressed the side button. "I thought this wasn't meant to come out for another month," he said, as he inspected all sides of the device.
"It isn't," Shalnark said, as he cheekily winked at Kurapika.
"Ah, right." Kurapika's voice was small, as he figured out what Shalnark was implying. His innocent appearance made it all too easy to forget just how skilled of a thief he must be. Shalnark leaned over to look at the phone with Kurapika and started to show him how to use it. His voice was cheerful and passionate as he talked about all of the 'super neat stuff' (his words) the uPhone Z was capable of.
"And if you swipe two fingers to the left you'll see all your news stories," he continued, demonstrating with his hand. Kurapika tried the gesture out himself.
"Cool," he heard himself breathe out as the phone's entire front displayed colorful screens.
"Isn't it? There's so much it can do, I love it!" Shalnark's excited voice and big smile held nothing but sincerity. Kurapika did not know what to make of it. When he handed the phone back to Shalnark, he couldn't hold back his curiosity anymore, and let his bluntness take over.
"Why are you being so nice?" he asked, tone coming out slightly harsher than he'd meant to. He tried to soften it a bit. "I mean… were you not very close to Uvogin or Pakunoda?"
Shalnark face looked confused for a moment, before he realized why Kurapika was asking. "Oh... it's not that I or anyone else weren't close to them. Actually, we all were pretty shaken by their deaths. But Boss always says the most important thing is that the Spider keeps moving, regardless of who the makes up the legs or head. So, if you're going to be the next member, we're going to have to learn to work together anyway. Most of us don't hold grudges, and besides, it seems Boss has taken quite a liking to you—I'm sure not without good reason."
Kurapika scoffed at that. Sure, Chrollo had 'taken a liking to him'. The same way someone might like a pet dog. Despite this fact, a slight stir tickled Kurapika's chest at Shalnark's kindness—he had to admit he was grateful to have a friendly, light-hearted conversation after all these weeks alone.
"Also," Shalnark continued, "if you get bored you should check out the bookshelf. Boss actually has great taste in books."
With a quick glance back to the bookshelf, Kurapika nodded. He did enjoy books, but hadn't really been in the mood to read lately. "Alright," he said. Kurapika drank a sip of the latte as Shalnark lingered on his phone. "Hey, Shalnark?"
Shalnark looked up. "What's up?"
"I've been wondering why exactly you choose to leave the Spider mark on some heists. What is the statement you are trying to make?"
Shalnark's grin immediately dropped, expression becoming detached. It reminded Kurapika of an expression he saw frequently on Chrollo. "I wouldn't expect you to understand at this point, as an ex-cop. You're still too deep in the system—in their values. But, for now, the short answer is we want to disrupt and harm that system, and we want them to know it was us."
Why was Kurapika always met with condescending, vague answers? As if they thought he couldn't handle whatever their real motivations were. He stared directly at Shalnark, mouth curling into a frustrated frown. He wanted to press for more, but before he could Shalnark's expression turned back to a carefree smile, and with a glance at his phone he said "Oh, I gotta go now! Nice talking to you Pika!" as he left the room.
The ceiling of Kurapika's room became a dull surface to look at, as he lay on the large mattress. Out of habit, he reached for the remote, but then stopped—his hand falling back down—thinking the better of it. He decided that today he didn't want to numb his brain again with the droning, generic voices of news anchors—not even if they mentioned his pending court case. Instead, rising from the bed, he moved towards the bookshelf that sat looming in the corner.
As he scanned the rows of books he noticed some of his favorites—Stevon Kingly, Joanna Austin, and even Shakespeare—their edges worn with usage. With his lips curling upwards, Kurapika concluded that indeed, Chrollo did have good taste in books. His eye was drawn to one book in particular, whose author he had never heard of. The cover was simple, the font plain. The title read:
Meteor: The Forgotten City
Intrigued, the blonde opened the book to the first page.
Introduction:
What you're about to read is 100% accurate. I'm about to tell you the dark, sad truth that has been hiding underneath our 'free' society all along. It's what the Bourgeoisie, the Big Corporations, and the Government don't want you to know. I suggest you read quickly, before every copey of this book is confiscated and burned. My name is Marcus DeLucio, and this is my story.
Kurapika sighed, rolling his eyes. What a cheesy start to a chapter book. There was even a typo in the third sentence. If Chrollo genuinely thought books with this kind of writing were good, then maybe he didn't have such great taste after all. Nonetheless, Kurapika was bored, and decided to give this book the benefit of the doubt. He took the book back with him to the bed, and turned the page.
Do you remember the worker's rights act? What about the clean air act? Or what about way back in the day when child labor laws were invented? Surely, if nothing else, you remember when slavery was abolished?
Well, I didn't. Have you ever wondered how the biggest chain stores are always so cheap? How they wipe out competition with ease? What if I told you that there was a still a city, right here in Amerika, where the biggest and greediest corporations made a deal with the government to keep as their secret personal hellscape, exempt from civil rights laws? In fact, this place exists, and it's called Meteor City.
The citizens of Meteor City are some of the most unfortunate on the planet. They live as little more than slaves, confined to work in dark, unsafe factories from the young age of only 4 years old. The streets are covered with trash and rubbish, and the air is a heavy, grey, polluted cloud. Law enforcement as we know it is non-existent, there are only corporate flunkies who force the citizens to work and dish out violent punishments for disobedience. The average lifespan is 40 years. The citizens are given no more than 10 rations per person per week of what could hardly be called food. Many people, including myself, learn to start stealing from a young age—whether it be medication for your dying sister from a flunky's bag, or some crackers for dinner from the packaged food we're forced to make. The ones who are good at stealing live longer, until pollution or disease kills them. The ones who get caught, however, are often beaten violently, sometimes to the death.
I'm going to tell you the ugly story of my life living in Meteor, and consequent escape.
The setting was intriguing enough for Kurapika to read on.
Ever since I was born, my mother had been sick. She worked in the mine, and would cough up blood and tar every time she came home. Our 'house' was a little hut made from recycled factory debris—our kitchen table a cardboard box. I had a younger sister—Lucy—as well, who was my best friend. My father worked in a food packaging company, and the best nights of the week were when he was able to sneak home some hardened chocolate bits off the factory belt to bring home to us.
We were all each other had and we were happy, until one day my mother grew too ill to go to work. That meant that one quarter of our rations disappeared, as we only had one working parent, and the factories did not compensate for illness. Father began to teach Lucy and I to steal from our work and pickpocket the flunkies; he told us to take anything we could to help her. I would take some painkillers and food from my work, and Lucy would steal toothbrushes and soap from hers. We were getting along better, and mother even started recovering slowly, until the day Lucy got caught.
One of the flunkies showed up at our hut carrying her beaten and bruised half to death, and said that if any of us stole again she'd be killed. All of us started crying in shock and fear, and I started to run after and beg the flunky to let her go, and help our mother. As I did so I tripped, and some of my stolen food from my factory flew out of my pocket.
I will never forget the way the man looked at me, marching right past me to the hut. The way he pulled Lucy by her hair, and slit her throat with emptiness in his eyes.
At this point, Kurapika blinked a few times, heart full of emotion, because he too knew what it was like to have his best friend killed.
He set the book down for a moment and took a deep breath. Perhaps, there was more to this story than met the eye. Before he was ready to continue reading, there was a light knock on his door, and he rose to go open it. The pink-haired girl he recognized as Machi came in with a tray of food. Remembering how well his interaction with Shalnark went, Kurapika decided to test the waters with another Troupe member.
"Hey… Machi, right?" he asked, hesitantly.
"Don't talk to me," she said without skipping a beat. Her expression didn't change as she set down his food.
Alright. Guess she's not one for conversation, Kurapika thought after that cold response. He receded towards the bed in defeat, fiddling with his chains in the awkward silence that followed.
Before Machi left the room, she lingered in the doorway, her piercing blue eyes locked onto Kurapika. Irritation lay clear on her face. She spoke.
"You know… He gets bored quickly with his stolen goods." Her voice cut through Kurapika like an icicle. "You're no different." And she shut the door.
Kurapika's initial confusion faded into a range of hurt and annoyance as he laid down; his appetite suddenly gone.
You said you wanna get to know me
But I think our lifelines became too intertwined
And now we've paid the price
And you cried "love's like watching someone die"
And we should've just closed our eyes
I stay cold, feel the weight of the world
Now I always, always walk alone without you
Song: Walk Alone -PVRIS
6:35 PM, Thomasburg, Caitlyn, YorkNew
Gon, Killua, and Leorio let out a simultaneous sigh, as they walked through a quaint street in Thomasburg. Leorio's brow was furrowed, his pace quick; the boys had to speed walk to keep up with his long strides. They'd just gotten off the train, having spent the day on Short Island investigating by themselves. They'd been looking for clues on Kurapika's whereabouts, only to come up with nothing. The aura between the three was somber and tense.
Leorio felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Gon. "Hey, don't worry. We'll find him, okay?" Gon looked up at Leorio with determined eyes and a slight smile in an attempt to cheer him up. "Why don't we go back to your place for some coffee? Killua and I will spend tonight searching."
Leorio nodded and the three of them made their way back to his walk-up. The boys had spent weeks now at Leorio's, on a quest to find their friend. As they walked in the apartment Gon went to Leorio's kitchen to prepare the coffee, as Killua went over to Leorio's desktop computer to continue investigating.
Leorio had to go in for patrol soon—he'd be taking a night shift. Work lately had been really hard without Kurapika. He found it impossible to focus knowing Kurapika was out there somewhere—probably in hiding—or worse... what if he was being raped and tortured? Or what if he was dead? Leorio's chest filled with worry and dread at the thought. Kurapika wasn't dead. He couldn't be. He wandered the apartment, pacing, trying to think of anything but the worst-case scenario. How was he supposed to care about petty theft cases and paperwork if he didn't have Kurapika's witty comments to keep him engaged? What if Leorio never again would get to see the way Kurapika's blonde hair waved in the wind… Or the rare occasion when they'd relax together as friends outside of work?
When the two had first been assigned as partners their personalities had clashed immensely. Leorio's first impression of Kurapika was an insufferable, arrogant, stiff, know-it-all. Kurapika had called him materialistic and asinine. Kurapika had even sent in a request to the Sherriff to work alone, saying that Leorio had been 'slowing him down'. It wasn't until weeks into their training that they realized they were able to work really well together, catching many criminals together and gaining recognition from their precinct for excellence. They began to enjoy each other's wit and banter, and would eat together after shift every day.
He remembered, like it was yesterday, the first time Kurapika invited him over to his small, minimalist apartment. It was surreal. Leorio would wait on the couch as Kurapika took out his contacts, revealing the deep hue of his scarlet eyes for the first time. Leorio had listened as Kurapika opened up to him, slowly, first about his tragic past and the scars it left him with, and how those scars shaped his anger. Kurapika would explain to him that since his family was killed, he hadn't really trusted a single person with friendship, let alone a relationship. Seeing that numb, pained look in Kurapika's eyes sparked a dull twinge in Leorio's heart that would only grow worse over time.
Leorio decided he needed a cigarette.
Leorio pulled on his coat, and went out on the balcony of his apartment, looking over the old buildings of Thomasburg. The sun was setting, and he watched as the buildings turned on their lights one by one. He lived close to the above-ground subway station, and as a train rushed past, the chilly wind ruffled through his short hair. Cigarette smoke started to fog up his glasses. With a small grunt of frustration, he pulled off the glasses and began to wipe them on the fabric of his sleeve.
Tonight, he planned to continue the conversation with the Sherriff regarding Kurapika's innocence. Yesterday during work, it hadn't gone so well. After all, how was he supposed to convince everyone that Kurapika's case was definitely a fluke in self-defense? The Sheriff was skeptical, especially since Kurapika's last few days at work were off; he didn't turn in his paperwork on time and had arrived late to patrol. The Sheriff currently thought Kurapika had pulled one of those classic, misunderstood, pent-up-anger shootings, but Leorio knew Kurapika better than that. He just had to think of something to tell the Sheriff to convince him, too.
His planning was interrupted as Killua appeared on the balcony, sliding the glass door shut as he came to stand next to Leorio.
The white-haired teenager stood with his hands in his pockets, joining Leorio in his pensive view.
"I didn't know you smoked," Killua mused.
Leorio put out his burnt cigarette before pulling out the rest of the pack and sliding another out. "I don't, usually. But it's a good de-stressor for occasions like this." He put the new cigarette in his mouth and lit it, inhaling.
"I want to try. Give me one," Killua demanded, holding out his hand.
Leorio raised an eyebrow before shaking his head. "No way, kid. Smoking is bad for you."
Killua scowled. He was 18, and about to graduate high school. Surely, he was old enough to make these decisions for himself.
"Oh my God, Leorio! What is that?!" Killua cried suddenly, pointing across the street.
"What?! What is it?" Leorio's head whipped around in the direction of Killua's finger. Bingo, Killua thought. As Leorio was distracted, Killua snatched the cigarettes and lighter from him, pulling one out for himself.
"Hey brat! What do you think you're doing?" Leorio interjected as he realized what Killua had just done. Killua just smirked at Leorio as he lit his cigarette. Damned brat, thought Leorio.
Killua kept flicking the lighter, holding the flame to the end, but for some reason the cigarette wasn't lighting. Leorio noticed, and shook his head, half chuckling and half sighing. "Here," he said, reaching over to help Killua, "If you're going to smoke, at least do it right. You've gotta put it to your mouth on it and inhale at the same time as you're lighting it."
Killua tried out the new technique, but as he inhaled, he immediately burst out into a fit of coughing. "Ugh, what the hell?" he choked out between coughs. "These things are nasty."
Leorio just laughed at Killua. Serves him right. "Bet you can't even finish one."
Killua narrowed his eyes at the taunt. He was now determined to finish what he started, and forced himself to take another drag as Leorio returned to his pensive stare at the city.
"So," Killua started, "Kurapika."
"Yeah, Kurapika." Killua watched as Leorio's brow furrowed again.
"You really care about him, huh?"
Leorio turned to look at Killua, his expression saying more than words ever could. "I just… really hope he's okay, you know? I don't know what I'd do… if… if…" Leorio's voice hitched, "if he wasn't."
The anguish in his eyes, combined with the way he'd talked about Kurapika—like he was all that mattered in the world—hit Killua like a bus. It was all too familiar as Killua suddenly realized the situation, eyes widening.
"You're in love with him," Killua said, voice just above a whisper.
Now it was Leorio, mid-drag of his cigarette, who burst into a series of coughs. "What?" he gasped out, followed by more coughs. "That's… that's just crazy…"
But as his coughs faltered out he met with a knowing look from Killua, and Leorio realized that it was pointless to lie.
"How did you know?" he asked quietly.
Killua turned his eyes away, towards the city, as he took another drag. "Don't you have to leave for work, old man?"
Leorio glanced down at his watch. Shit. He was going to be late. "Dammit, brat. You owe me an explanation later," he said before rushing inside to get his things. He was out the door in less than a minute, and Killua waited until he left to put out his cigarette and return inside.
"There you are Killua!" Gon exclaimed with a beaming smile that never failed to make Killua feel like he was melting. "We've got a lot of work to do tonight, so let's get started. Also, I made you coffee, just the way you like it. Here you go!" He handed Killua a coffee loaded with chocolate syrup and milk.
Killua couldn't help but smile softly back at Gon as he took a sip. It was delicious. Thank you, Gon. Thank you, he wanted to say. Instead a small, "yeah," was all that came out.
