"You are the worst goody-two-shoes I've ever met. There's hypocrisy and then there's, like, you." Hisoka leaned back against the wall of Chrollo's home while Kurapika picked the lock. "It's a whole new level of fascinating." Rain tumbled down, light and misty. Fog rolled through the streets. The cold felt good against his shoulder.

"Shut up." Kurapika swung the door open. He pushed his hood back. "They're all over Machi's."

"Goody."

"Should I even ask what you're doing?" Kurapika asked.

"You just did." Hisoka yanked open Chrollo's laptop, left lying out probably because he thought his house was so secure. Oopsy, Chrollo. "I'm destroying all of his files, and hacking into whatever shared system he uses with the rest of his so-called friends, before he can report anything about Silva and Kikyo, because I'm sure that's what they asked him."

"Yeah, me too." Kurapika bit his lip and stuffed his fists into the pockets of his sweatshirt. "Are you really doing all of this just to see what we will do? How far I'll go? Are Silva and Kikyo just boring exceptions for you, in not wanting to see them wreck Illumi's life?"

"I saw Illumi have a breakdown once and I never, ever want to see it again," Hisoka replied. "Plus, this way I keep them guessing. They never know what I'm gonna do."

Kurapika stared at him. "You're a bigger idiot than I thought."

Hisoka chose to ignore what he was pretty certain Kurapika was referencing. "Be careful. I could have you get caught here while I escape."

"I doubt it, and even if you did, we're helping each other."

"We're tolerating each other for mutual goals; let's not kid ourselves. You think I'm creepy and I think you're hilarious."

Kurapika scowled. "He'll know it was one of us."

"He'll know it was me." Hisoka planned to leave a Joker card on Chrollo's pillow. "And I'm going to drop all that information you gave me on Shalnark, Kortopi, Pakunoda, and Uvogin to the police. Justice for your family. Yay. Maybe they'll finally understand your family wasn't comprised of sneaky bad eggs."

Kurapika nodded. He ducked his head. "Thanks."

Both of us know you're just going to grow even more bitter. But that's what you want, isn't it? To hate yourself more?

Hisoka crept into Chrollo's bedroom after he wrecked Chrollo's newspaper, depositing the card on that pillow. Really? Red satin sheets? You need Jesus.

Hisoka headed back to his home, satisfied. Except, not. He should be. But instead a hollow feeling settled on him, a feeling that hadn't possessed him in years, a feeling he'd buried and forgotten. And now it wouldn't leave him alone. Hisoka felt sick.

Biscuit Krueger had tried to call him numerous times, but he wasn't picking up. That recording should be self-explanatory. Now maybe she would get off his back. Because she was starting to become a nuisance more than a challenge. He emailed the files he'd scanned—see, I'm not killing trees, Kurapika—to the cops.

He left his doors unlocked. Come for me, Chrollo. I dare you.

Hisoka remembered Illumi's words. When will it be enough?

Is this enough for you, Illumi? I took care of your goddamned fucking parents for you. He dropped down onto his own mattress, with normal sheets unlike Chrollo's laughable opulence. He closed his eyes.

What do you want? he'd asked Illumi. The question wouldn't leave him alone.

To smile.

To feel good.

To deserve. To matter, if just to myself.

Perhaps he'd failed, and to Hisoka, that was the funniest joke of all.

When Hisoka pried his eyes open to the bright light of morning, disappointment soured in his stomach. Chrollo was so damn slow. He dragged himself out of bed, checking his phone. Nothing from Illumi, which didn't surprise him. What did surprise him was the twinge he felt. Well, that was new. And far more unpleasant than he objectively thought it should be.

He cracked his neck and headed downstairs towards the kitchen. Halfway down the hallway, he realized. He wanted to laugh, but it clung to his throat. "Wanted to see me awake?"

Chrollo sat on his couch, the rest of his friends—well, minus four—around him. Hisoka pretended to count. He couldn't let on. He wouldn't. "Looks like four of you are missing. Good thing you have too many legs alrea—"

"You bastard!" Phinks burst out.

Hisoka strolled towards his fridge and pulled out a half-gallon of milk. Just end me already. Why are you dragging it out? It's not fun. He drank from the bottle, noting Machi's nose wrinkling in disgust. "I didn't decide to rob the Kurtas—"

"Just me," said Chrollo. Feitan glowered from behind him like an angry pocket skunk.

He felt tired. "You drugged me."

"And you said some very interesting things."

Hisoka shrugged. "Truth to be told, actually, they could be lies. Who would believe anything I would say?" I hate you. Just fucking do whatever you plan to do.

"You're just bitter you lost," said Machi.

What would it take to provoke them? "I didn't lose. You cheated like the—"

"Win, at any cost," said Chrollo, rising. "Isn't that your life motto? Your M.O?."

"Same as yours," said Hisoka. Come on, come on!

"No. I just met you according to your own rules and played them against you," said Chrollo.

Oh, for fuck's sake! "And I played yours against you," Hisoka said, screwing the cap back on the milk. "If you plan on beating me up, I'd like to see you try. Unless you drugged that milk." His heart pounded. They better not have. No matter how this went he wanted to remember it. He didn't want to lose himself again.

"You really think you could take this many of us?" Nobunaga burst out. "What did you do to Paku and Uvo and Shalnark and Kortopi?"

You're just as much idiots as I am. "What did they do to themselves?" corrected Hisoka. "If they were dumb enough to have records about how they sold those particular rubies, then I recommend hiring someone who is both a good lawyer and very stupid or reckless."

"So you, in lawyer form," Machi snapped.

"I would never be a lawyer in any form."

"You lying son of a—"

"I was planning on only going to cut your Achilles," Chrollo said, eyes sparking. "That way you won't be fighting anyone for—"

Hisoka narrowed his eyes. "That's pretty mob boss, don't you think?" He would fight. He'd have to, even if he just wanted to sleep.

"I don't care. That newspaper is my life—"

Life sparked. "And you were going to ruin Illumi's life with it," Hisoka snapped.

"Hm?" Chrollo frowned. He rubbed his chin as if he didn't know what Hisoka was talking about.

"I know you talked to Silva Zoldyck."

"How?" demanded Chrollo, eyes darting around. All his friends shook their heads, as if to assure him they said nothing.

"Kurta boy," grumbled Feitan. "Must been."

Chrollo looked as if he would like to spit.

"He's still at it?" complained Machi. "I hate him. He's like a leech we can't get rid of."

"He hates you," Hisoka supplied.

"Brand new information."

Chrollo cleared his throat and focused on Hisoka. "Well, we weren't going to do anything for the Zoldycks—well, the parents, really. Silva approached us, yes, but I turned him down. If anything, I was going to report it in Illumi's favor as a favor to Kalluto, who is more than useful with his own reports on Pariston Hill."

Hisoka gritted his teeth to not betray his shock. "Kalluto?"

"He might as well be one of us now," Machi said, leaning back on his sofa.

Hisoka pressed his lips together. "I see." He didn't see. Not at all.

"But I'm not going to touch you," said Chrollo. "Since someone forked over half his bank account for me to leave you alone so I can find that one in a million sadistically confident lawyer."

Hisoka narrowed his eyes. His muscles tightened down his neck. "Excuse me?"

"Goodbye." Chrollo turned and swept out of the house, his friends following him like ducklings. Ugly ducklings, Hisoka corrected himself.

Silence descended on the house. His own breaths echoed. Why did he still have to stand?

"You're welcome."

The voice came from the staircase. Hisoka turned.

"Turns out I can, in fact, climb that straight wall and get into your bedroom," Illumi said, striding towards him. His hair flowed down past his waist. A scowl sat deep in his face.

"You paid Chrollo," Hisoka stated. Not that it was ever in doubt, not since Chrollo stated it. But for what? What would make Illumi do that? A dizzying array of options churned in his mind, all shallow, all pathetic, all smokescreens because he needed them. Illumi was starting to remind Hisoka of that stupid golden rage mushroom with his sanctimony. Because that was all it was and Hisoka was not pleased. That was one trait he didn't want to see in Illumi. He didn't want Illumi to bore him, and that—

It wasn't sanctimony, and that fact closed around his throat like a hand did long ago.

I won't be like you, where this is all there is, he promised someone who probably couldn't even hear him, the man was so stoned. I'll enjoy my life.

"Yes," said Illumi, leaning against the fridge. "I did. And I don't feel badly about it in the least."

Hisoka dug his fingernails into his palms. "What made you do that?" he demanded. "Because you pity me? I don't need your—those who accept that kind of charity never—they die—" Fuck, maybe they had drugged that milk. Or why else would he be saying that? "I can handle my own messes. And if I can't, I don't deserve to—"

"I don't care."

Ire ignited inside Hisoka. He had to poke. He had to press. He had to burn away the dross and know, really fucking know, and part of him knew it would turn out ash, and part of him wanted—gold. "You're under no duty to take care of me. Or do you think I'm Killua? Just another puppet for you to control. I imagine it'd be nice, to get your hands on my bank account and—"

Illumi's eyes flashed. His chest heaved. "I didn't do it because I felt like I had to, you moron. I did it because I wanted to."

Control. It had to be about control. Fuck. He didn't even know what he wanted. He wanted—he wanted to be disentangled, interested but watching from the sidelines, in the thick of it but only in it for the amusement, not this. Not this. He had no idea where this was going, and it wasn't fun, or was it?

"I'm just a new obsession for you," Hisoka repeated. If he said it enough, maybe he would believe it. I'm a liar, after all.

"Stop it!" A fist collided with Hisoka's cheekbone, cracking. Hisoka stumbled back. His hand flew towards his split skin.

Gon Freecss glared up at him.

"Oh, you followed me?" Illumi asked. "Killua must have told him, Hisoka."

"Stop being mean!" Gon shouted. "You might be creepy, but if you can't see that Illumi did that because he cares, you're denser than I thought!"

There was a certain irony to being yelled at about being dense by Gon, of all people. Hisoka rubbed his cheek, a laugh welling up, but he couldn't quite manage it.

"You should be glad someone came after you," Gon said, his voice cracking. "And actually, Illumi, Kurapika told me."

"Golden Rage Mushroom does still have a conscience," Hisoka muttered. "How interesting." He was surprised. But not unpleasantly.

"You are like him, you know," said Illumi. "You want to punish yourself for failing. You want revenge on yourself more than you want it on Chrollo. You want to die to prove you've had the most enjoyment and you want to prove you can deserve to still be alive. But I don't want you to do that. I don't care if you failed me."

"That's a load of horseshit," Hisoka snapped, one last desperate throw that might obliterate his opponent. "You're all about success—"

"Kil doesn't—he's still giving me a chance since I—and Alluka—" Illumi pressed his lips together. "I don't know how to convince you."

"You can't," Hisoka said. You have.

But he didn't know what to do with it.

I lost.

He didn't think Illumi would use that to hurt him, and he didn't understand why he was letting down his guard, but he was.

Maybe I can lose to you.

"No," Illumi agreed. "I can't."

"I don't want people fighting my battles for me," Hisoka managed. I'm not enough. But for some reason, you think I am.

"If you fight Kastro, and wind up hurt, Killua says you're even dumber than I am," Gon reported.

Hisoka rolled his eyes.

"I don't want to fight for you," said Illumi. "You're more than capable."

Why do you fight?

To live.

Illumi tugged at his hair, and then held his hand out. "But we team up well. And you sent Miss Krueger that recording."

Ahh. So he, Hisoka, was a hypocrite just like Kurapika. Hisoka let out a laugh. Illumi just stared at him with those stupid doe eyes of his.

I don't know how to keep fighting right now. And he didn't know what he would be if he stopped fighting. I want to—I want—

What do you want? And why does that matter to me? Caring about others never really worked out in his favor, so he hadn't. Not ever.

I don't have to do this fight. What would he lose? Chrollo didn't even have much of a news site now. It'd take him at least a week to fix it. He'd only lose to—Illumi. And he'd win, too. Who the hell even was Kastro? Just a fist. Illumi—Illumi—Illumi was—

"Be careful," Hisoka managed. "Or people will think you're in love with me, Illumi."

"Hm?" Illumi cocked his head, tapping his chin as if he hadn't thought of that. "Oh. I see. Well, you're basically family, I suppose. I love family."

Gon looked horrified.

Fuck. Illumi, you— Hisoka shook his head. He dropped his head, holding himself up on the counter. "I won't fight Kastro." Thank you.

"Thank you," Illumi said primly.

He wasn't using that against him. How strange. Hisoka didn't know what to do with it. Something sticky curdled in his stomach, something he hadn't felt in years. Shame. "Illumi..." Why?

I'm sorry?

Illumi stepped across the kitchen and pushed him back, parting Hisoka's mouth with his. Hisoka gripped him, kissing him back. He didn't understand. But this, he knew how to do, and Illumi let him press deeper. Illumi still wanted him. Illumi still wanted him to live. Illumi still trusted, still respected, still.

Gon whimpered. Hisoka pulled back. He still held Illumi, sort of. Illumi gripped Hisoka's elbows, tightly. Illumi held him too.

Why do I matter to you? Why are you still here? If he wasn't an obsession, Hisoka didn't know how to answer that question. But he knew he did matter to Illumi. And he knew Illumi paid Chrollo for the same reason Hisoka broke into Chrollo's house in the first place, and he knew Illumi knew it too.

You win.

And that's okay.

"Also, I punched you now," Gon said. "Now you owe me. Remember our deal?"

Hisoka arched his brows. "A photo, if I recall?"

"I've changed my terms."

A fairly amusing brat. "To what?"

Illumi exhaled. "This was not what I believe Gon had in mind, Hisoka."

"If he trusts me, he's the fool for it," Hisoka responded. The high school loomed in the background, no better than the middle school in terms of aesthetic. Hisoka would be climbing out those huge dull windows and feels mildly disappointed Gon hasn't yet done that. Or if he has, he hasn't talked about it. Or gotten caught, but Hisoka wouldn't expect that.

Which was why he knew precisely where to find those bullies Gon had mentioned. Illumi walked beside him. They had about forty minutes before the dodgeball game Gon asked him to attend, since parents were invited and Mito could not make it.

Sure enough, a group of buff bros sat outside the gym, lighting up. Hisoka cleared his throat as he approached.

The boys' eyes bulged. "Hisoka!"

He smirked. "Ah, so you know me."

Illumi pressed his lips together in a thin line.

"Of course! You're the best wrestler in the world!"

The praise did lift Hisoka's spirits. But he had something he wanted to do. He scanned the line of dull faces. "Which one of you is Razor?"

"I am," said the second-tallest boy. He had a pleasant smile and hardly looked the bullying type.

"Why don't we give it a go?" Hisoka asked, cracking his knuckles. He felt the heat of Illumi's glare, burning deeper than the sun on his skin. "Unless you have to prepare for your dodgeball game."

"You know about that?"

"Indeed." Hisoka was enjoying the kid's sense of discomfort. Razor was not stupid. "I've been training Gon Freecss." He rested his hand on his hip. "See, he doesn't need more than one person to train him. He's got unlimited potential. So if you want to keep giving him a hard time—"

"If you're asking me to throw the game, my answer is no."

"I wouldn't dream of such a thing. He can beat you anyways." Hisoka bit down on his lip. "But you will leave him and Killua alone. If Gon's going to be a great wrestler someday, he doesn't need to be distracted by the likes of you. And, of course, you'll leave Killua alone too, since whatever happens to Killua also affects Gon." He peered at the kid. He might be large, but Hisoka could win, and he knew it.

Illumi looked as if he was absolutely dying to say something to these kids. Except he had agreed to let Hisoka say it since he didn't want to be controlling. Although then he'd begun musing on how it might actually be controlling by way of… and Hisoka tuned him out.

"Whoa!" Razor let out a laugh. "It wasn't like we were doing it for fun. We were paid."

"Excuse me?" Now Illumi couldn't keep his mouth shut.

"His old man," said Razor. "Ging Freecss. Said it would be a test to see how strong his son was."

Figures. That prick. "My demand still stands," Hisoka said, crossing his arms. "Do we have an agreement?"

"Sure." Razor shrugged.

"Ging Freecss might give my father a run for worst father of the year," Illumi remarked as they walked away. "What a dick."

Hisoka could see where Ging's motivations came from. Still. "Has he visited Gon once since he got out of the hospital?"

"Yeah. Once." Illumi tugged his hair. "I heard Killua talking about it with Alluka."

Once. Why be a father then? Hisoka could understand the desperate search for adventure, though, for something exciting. But Ging was stupid if he didn't see the potential Gon had physically and academically, if he didn't want to watch his son grow. What a waste. Ging was missing out.

"We could drive over after the game," Illumi offered as he and Hisoka went back to wait in his car. "To the city council."

"Didn't you say that otherwise useless doctor friend of his punched him once?" Hisoka asked.

"Mm." Illumi nodded. "Leorio did punch him."

"I don't think it'd be terribly interesting, then," Hisoka said. "He's not really worth fighting."

"He might be worth slandering once Chrollo gets his news site back, though," Illumi mused. "Although." He held up his finger. "It's only slander if it isn't true."

Hisoka snickered.

"Look," said Illumi. "Let's go see what Gon and my little brother can do."

"If he's made more friends will I have to restrain you?"

Illumi exhaled. "Not funny. I am fine with Kil making friends. Friends I approve."

"So you approve Gon, Kurapika, and Leorio?"

Illumi scowled. "I guess." His voice sounded so bitter Hisoka had to laugh.

The rest of the dodgeball tournament was mostly filled with pathetic excuses for athletes, but when Gon and Killua's homeroom faced off with Razor's, Hisoka leaned in to watch. As he thought. Gon used some of what Hisoka taught him, but most of it came from Gon himself. He had his own ideas, and his own strength, and that always motivated him first. Good.

When they won, Hisoka clapped for him. Gon waved. A taller girl with wild hair and crazy eyes approached to congratulate Gon.

"That must be the stalker," Hisoka observed.

Illumi searched for Killua, who was sitting with a shorter, freckled boy with red hair. "Good job, Kil."

Killua's eyes widened. Illumi, actually praising him for something that wasn't business related. He smiled. "This is Ikalgo. He's my newest friend."

Hisoka remembered seeing Ikalgo with the bullies earlier.

"Nice to meet you," Illumi said, shaking his hand. Gripping hard, no doubt, but still shaking his hand.

"Hey, Aniki, and your shitty boyfriend," said Killua. "Thanks for coming."