Author's Notes:
PAIRINGS: Leorio/Kurapika (Leopika); Hisoka/Kurapika (Hisopika); Hisoka/Illumi (HisoIllu); Hisoka/Illumi/Pariston/Kurapika
RATING: Mature
NOTE: To read this story's missing scenes with sexual content, check the uncensored version on Archive of Our Own (AO3 username: lemonpika).
CONTENT WARNINGS: None.
Chapter 1: A grievous mismatch in personalities
Leorio, laden down by two duffel bags stuffed to bursting, mounts the steps of the administrative building. At the top of the stairs, he pauses to admire the crimson letters emblazoned over the archway. The University of Zaban.
After two harrowing years of blood, sweat, and tears, Leorio has finally made it here. His dream school, where world-renowned professors shape the brightest minds within Kukan'yu Kingdom. Graduates of this esteemed institution are known to scale corporate ladders in record time, or to materialize overnight in the Cabinet and spin legislation from scratch as if they've always been there. U of Z alumni are recognized as movers, as shakers, as history-makers.
Not that Leorio has any such lofty aspirations. If he can survive these four years of grueling academics, he can eventually fill his pockets with fat stacks of cash. Then, with enough jenny to scatter freely over the vast gardens of his imaginary mansion, the grass will never be greener elsewhere. There's nothing more he can ever ask for.
Lost as he is in his reverie of riches, a whump against his back yanks him back into reality.
The voice behind him is lightly laced with menace. "Would you mind standing aside, old man? With shoulders as wide as yours, you're monopolizing the entire doorway."
"Ack! Sorry!" Leorio darts sideways at once. But his body — all angles and edges — makes a mess of everything. His elbow accidentally knocks a stack of books from the arms of the stranger behind him.
"Sorry!" Leorio yelps again. "My mind's all over the place today! Lemme be the one to fetch everything for you!" He drops his bags and scrambles after the textbooks now cascading down the steps.
The stranger stands by his luggage by the archway and watches. "You're surprisingly sprightly for an older —"
Leorio cuts this sentence short. "I'm not an old man, all right? I'm only a freshman! I'm as young as they come!"
"Is that right?" the stranger replies. "Then you're eighteen years old like I am?"
Since he's failed the entrance exam twice before, there's no way that Leorio can be eighteen like the majority of first-year students. But this guy doesn't need to hear every detail of Leorio's lackluster academic history, does he? Leorio has already started off on the wrong foot, after all. What he needs to do now is salvage the rocky beginnings of what could be his first ever college friendship.
He bounds up the stairs to return the textbooks that he's retrieved. The stranger's skinny arms are folded over his chest, while his sneaker taps a staccato rhythm against the marble tiling of the top step.
Leorio parts his mouth to introduce himself. However, upon taking one proper look at the stranger's face, all his words die instantly in his throat. Perhaps it's the slight upturn of the stranger's tiny nose. The shock of golden hair peeking out from underneath the hood of his cerulean sweatshirt. Shoulders so narrow that Leorio can cover their breadth upon spreading out the fingers of his large hands. The fact that the stranger is wearing sunglasses even though the sky is threatening to weep overhead. Reflected on the dark lenses is Leorio's own face, mouth gaping wide and wordless.
"What are you waiting for?" the stranger asks. "A prize to positively reinforce you for fetching the objects that you yourself knocked over?"
When Leorio remains slack-jawed, the stranger pries his possessions from the taller guy's unmoving fingers and strides off. In the short time following the mishap with the books, a line has formed in front of the information desk.
The stranger gets in line. Leorio shuffles behind him after remembering to pick up his duffel bags.
What should Leorio do now? He's torn between touching the stranger's shoulder to apologize for a third time or just begging the polished marble floors to swallow him whole. What even happened back there? What manner of witchery rendered Leorio, who usually never shuts up, temporarily speechless?
After three students, all accompanied by their parents, receive answers to their queries, the stranger reaches the front of the line. Not saying a word, he slides a form across the desk toward the receptionist.
The young woman glances briefly at the sheet, then beams up at him. "Ah! I should've recognized you right off the bat! You look just like your photo on the newsletter. Only you're much less grainy in the flesh, of course."
The stranger's response to the star-struck receptionist is concise. "And the directions to my dormitory?"
"Head straight past this desk, take the stairs out back, then walk clockwise around the oval until you see the sign for Milsy Residence Hall. Lots of student organizations have set up booths on the lawn, so you can't miss it. Wishing you a wonderful orientation, Mr. Kurta."
Leorio's stomach lurches upon hearing that name. Is this stranger — who unwillingly scored a front-row seat to Leorio's latest episode of humiliation — the famous Kurapika Kurta? A.k.a. the first student in nearly a decade to obtain a perfect score in the entrance exam for Zaban University?
Thoughts whipped into a frenzy, Leorio flinches as the receptionist suddenly waves her hand in front of his face.
"Sir?" the young woman's saying. "Are you quite all right? Did you come here to raise a concern on behalf of your son, daughter, or offspring?"
"No! I have no concerns whatsoever!" With this, Leorio hurries past the desk to chase after the boy who's just left.
Kurapika Kurta was nothing less than a legend among Leorio's cram school friends when they all met up to commiserate over the break. Among their group, only Leorio and one other person succeeded in passing the admission test for U of Z, both by the skin of their teeth. Hardly anyone could believe that someone had aced the exam that spawned a million migraines year after year. Word was that, while Kurapika had graduated valedictorian of Lukso High, he had no other achievements to his name. No placements in any inter-school tournaments or any extracurricular activities at all.
With his eyes trained on the cerulean sweatshirt, Leorio follows every step of its owner. They both head down the steps at the back of the administrative building and begin tracing the oval path toward the dormitories.
Then, without warning, the boy whirls around and accosts Leorio. "I can tell that you're stalking me. I've been walking in your obscenely tall shadow for God knows how long."
"What shadow?" Leorio shoots back. "The clouds are too gigantic and gray for shadows today! It's gonna rain soon!"
These words couldn't be more prophetic. Just then, the sky opens and releases what could be rivers.
Instinctively, Leorio lunges forward and snatches Kurapika's wrist. "Hey, let's find the nearest roof and take cover! This weather's outta control!"
But the boy wrenches himself free from Leorio's grasp at once. His voice is venomous. "Don't you dare touch me."
Before Leorio can spit out another sorry, Kurapika is sprinting away, straight in the direction of Milsy Hall.
Left to look for cover all by his lonesome, Leorio waits for the rain to stop. Luckily for him, it doesn't take too long.
He now makes his way toward what could be his new home for the next four years. This is subject, of course, to his maintenance of the minimum required GPA and to the reliability of his flighty, nomadic Uncle Ging as a source of tuition fees and miscellaneous funds.
The lawn surrounding Milsy Residence Hall — sparkling emerald green in the aftermath of the torrential rain — would surely be inviting in other contexts. Right now, though, there are monobloc chairs strewn about, stretches of abandoned tarpaulin stained with mud, and paper cups crushed seemingly beneath a stampede of shoes. The receptionist did mention that a number of clubs had assembled tables here to welcome the incoming freshmen. They must've all left in a hurry to hunt for cover like Leorio did. With a downpour like that, any makeshift roofs would buckle at once.
Before entering the brick building, Leorio does his best to brush off the mud from his oxfords. Since freshman orientation isn't till tomorrow, the residence isn't in full swing just yet. Still, there's a fair amount of students and parents roaming around the corridors.
Leorio repeats his room number under his breath. "Four-oh-four. Four-oh-four. Four-oh-four."
He finds the staircase. Three students — two boys and one girl — are sitting midway up the steps and talking among themselves.
"Excuse me," Leorio calls to them. "My room's on the fourth floor, so I gotta pass through."
One of the guys, who has a wiry black pompadour and imposing eyebrows, scrunches up his heavily lined face at the sight of Leorio. Oh no. Has Leorio crossed the wrong sort of person to cross for the second time today?
Rather than responding with the expected rage, however, the guy clicks his tongue in a sympathetic manner. "Rotten luck on your first day here, eh, freshman?"
"You said it," Leorio laments. "Rain came whooshing outta nowhere."
The other boy, whose dyed purple hair is pulled into a too-tight ponytail, furrows his brows. "You're soaked through your clothes. While the adage that staying in the rain for too long causes pneumonia on its own has been disproven, research shows that wet or cold weather lowers your body temperature, which in turn makes your immune system more vulnerable —"
The girl, who has long dark hair, playfully punches the arm of the guy with the ponytail. "Stop it, Shoot! We're supposed to be welcoming the newbies, not scaring them away with the possible health hazards of dormitory living!" She then smiles warmly and sticks out her hand toward Leorio. "Hey there. I'm Palm. The name of this downer is Shoot. Knuckle, on the other hand, is the one who looks like a gangster. But you don't have to worry about him or about any of us. We're the sweetest sophomores you'll ever meet. Promise."
"Palm, Shoot, and Knuckle," Leorio echoes as he's shaking all their hands.
Knuckle gives a hoot of laughter. "I know it sounds like we're pulling your leg by feeding you baseball terms first thing. But everyone calls us by those nicknames, and you should too." He slides toward the wall to provide enough space for Leorio's passage. "Need one of us to help you with your bags? Being assigned to the fourth floor is a pain. Too high up."
Leorio waves away this offer. "Nah, I'm all good. I didn't lift all those weights over the break for nothing. The name's Leorio, by the way."
"Your parents aren't heading up with you, Leorio?" Palm asks. "Do they have arthritic knees or something? Wouldn't be the first ones today."
"No, my parents couldn't make it because they had to work till late," Leorio lies. "But I hope I can see you guys around sometime."
Knuckle grins, displaying shockingly white teeth. "Most definitely! We're volunteering at the orientation tomorrow so come say hello when you spot us!"
Leorio bids goodbye to the three upperclassmen, then trudges up the stairs. When he finally makes it to the fourth floor, he's panting with exertion. He didn't lie about working out over the break, but all those cigarettes he snuck in between sessions of working out and just plain working must've offset certain benefits of his exercise regimen.
He hauls his bags down the corridor until he arrives at the door marked with "404." He tests the knob. It's locked. He extracts a crumpled envelope from his pocket and shakes it until a silver key falls on his palm. "There we go."
He unlocks the door and enters.
As it turns out, his roommate has already arrived. And it's a familiar face that greets him. That is, if a mumbled curse word can be considered a greeting.
"Ah, it's you again," Leorio says sheepishly.
"You've got to be shitting me," Kurapika mutters in response.
Leorio sets down his damp duffel bags and holds up both palms, as if surrendering. "I wasn't stalking you, okay? I was assigned to Milsy Hall too. I was gonna tell you earlier, but you ran away."
"So that's your story, huh?"
"It's not just a story. It's the truth." Leorio sinks down on the mattress that's still bare. On the other side of the room, Kurapika's bed is already made with crisp sheets.
Mentally going over everything that he needs to unpack, Leorio unbuttons then peels off his wet button-down shirt. It's difficult to concentrate, though. He can feel his roommate's eyes burning into him.
"Got something you need to say?" Leorio pipes up.
"Why are you stripping naked? You don't think it's highly inappropriate to do something like that in front of someone you've met within the day?"
"Where else am I supposed to change?" Leorio interjects. "This is my room. Our room."
Shirtless now, Leorio rises to his feet and holds out his hand. He tries emulating a smile as warm as Palm's earlier in the stairway.
But Kurapika is as chilly as can be. His arms are crossed over his chest and his thin lips are pursed. Although his hood is down now — showing off his blond hair, which is a shade darker due to the rainwater — he's still hiding behind his sunglasses.
Giving up on getting a handshake, Leorio lowers his proffered palm. He does, however, inject as much enthusiasm as he can into his voice. "Look, we're going to be living together from now on, so let's try to get along. My name's Leorio Paladiknight. And I already know that your name's Kurapika Kurta."
"How'd you —"
Before the boy can spiral into another bout of paranoia, Leorio hastens to explain. "I heard the receptionist mention your name."
"The receptionist? But she only mentioned my surname, didn't she?"
Leorio shouldn't be taken aback by the swiftness of this guy's memory, but he is. "By now, everyone in school knows your name! You're the guy who battered and buried that devil of an entrance exam without breaking a sweat. You heard what the receptionist said. Your name's all over the papers."
"Speaking of the receptionist," Kurapika says, "perhaps one of us can visit her again and ask about the pertinent procedure for switching rooms. Maybe there's an exit clause for a grievous mismatch in personalities."
"Maybe. But it's not going to be me. I'm getting attached to this room already. Four-oh-four. It has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"
Kurapika stares silently into Leorio's eyes. He's trying to decipher the truth beneath whatever deception he's apparently projecting onto Leorio.
Leorio can see his own nonplussed expression reflected on the lenses of Kurapika's shades, which are as dark and as impenetrable as a frozen lake in the dead of winter.
Leorio sighs. "Listen. Hate my guts if you want. Whatever. I can't force you to love me at first sight, right? But can I ask you for one thing? At least take off your dark glasses when you talk to me."
To Leorio's alarm, Kurapika jerks away as if he's been slapped full on the face.
Before Leorio can ask what that's about, Kurapika is already shoving past him to get to the door. Their shoulders collide with a violence that makes Leorio stumble backward and knocks the breath from his chest.
The door slams shut not even a second later. Just like that, Kurapika has vanished from the room.