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 2: Hunt for a platonic soulmate

Pale blue veins over his eyelids. In slumber, with all his defenses down, Kurapika looks so soft and frail.

Leorio feels this preposterous urge to trace the delicate blue pathways with his broad, rough hands. Perhaps, if he does so, he'll feel the faintest flutter of a dream underneath his fingertips.

As Leorio is admiring the fine golden lashes, Kurapika just then stirs awake. Leorio hastens to pretend that he hasn't been scrutinizing every detail of Kurapika's sleeping form like a creep.

"Good morning, roommate!" Leorio's voice is full of forced cheer. "Did you sleep soundly?"

Kurapika forgoes these pleasantries. "I meant to speak with you when I got back last night. But you were deep asleep by then."

"Yeah, I was so beat after unpacking all my stuff that I just conked out. Kaput. But what did you wanna talk about?"

"I'm sincerely sorry for flying off the handle without any rational provocation," Kurapika says. "You treated me with patience at every juncture of our interactions, but I only showed you rudeness in return. For all those times, I apologize."

Unlike yesterday, Kurapika's in a mellow mood today. The disparity in dispositions is startling.

Leorio brushes off the apology with a wave of his hand. "Hey, forget about it. I know I didn't make the greatest first impression by knocking your shiny new books all over the place. But it's a new day. A time for new beginnings. As long as you agree to give me a fair shot from now on, then we're all good."

Kurapika nods. "Understood. That's more than reasonable."

"So now that you're not biting my head off, can I ask you why you suddenly stormed off yesterday?"

Kurapika provides an answer, but it's not exactly responsive to the question. "I returned to the administrative building and asked to be reassigned to another dorm room."

Leorio sighs. "I figured. So what did the administration say?"

"I didn't have a valid reason for seeking reassignment, or so I was told."

"A grieving mishmash of personalities doesn't count as a valid reason?"

"A grievous mismatch in personalities," Kurapika corrects. "No, something approaching the gravity of criminal behavior would be more acceptable as a justification."

"Well, you're shit out of luck. I haven't murdered anyone or robbed a bank. Not in the last year or so, at least."

After a pause, Kurapika says, "You're joking, right?"

Leorio's jaw drops open in disbelief. "Yes, it was only a joke. Jesus, Kurapika. Did you forget to unpack your sense of humor when you moved in?"

Kurapika rubs his bleary eyes. "I tried everything to get that blasted receptionist to change her mind, to no avail."

Leorio snorts. "Everything, huh? Like what? Did you try seducing that poor woman? Wining, dining, the whole shebang?"

"Oh, please. As if I'd ever stoop so low."

Kurapika is glaring at him. For the first time, Leorio detects his roommate's eye color — a rich brown, bordering on maroon. Such a lovely color, Leorio muses. The shade evokes the same nostalgia as a sepia photograph from decades past. What a waste for Kurapika to keep his eyes hidden from the world yesterday.

"But getting back to the point," Kurapika continues, "it seems as if neither of us has a choice except to tolerate each other's presence for potentially the next four years."

Leorio beams at the prospect. "Seems so!"

"Let's get one thing out of the way first," Kurapika says firmly. "Just because we have to live together, that doesn't mean we have to know anything about each other. You stay out of my business, and I'll keep out of yours. That's the only way this can work."

Leorio's brows furrow. "Is friendship totally out of the question, then? I gotta say, in the months leading up to college, I was indulging in dreams of becoming best buddies with my roommate."

Kurapika's gaze drifts toward the door. "You're better off searching out there. Milsy Hall alone has about a hundred residents. If it's a platonic soulmate that you crave, the odds are in your favor."

Kurapika then mumbles something, which Leorio only half-hears.

"Whaddya say just now?" Leorio demands.

"It's nothing, Leorio. Nothing that should concern you, anyway."

The first day of the freshman orientation is taking place in the auditorium. At the sign-up table, Leorio sees one of the sophomores he met the day before.

"Heya, Palm. Knuckle and Shoot aren't here with you?"

"They're volunteers too, but not for the sign-up process," Palm explains. "Knuckle's helping out with the scavenger hunt, while Shoot's monitoring the sound system. We're all planning to go out for drinks tonight to unwind. Do you want to tag along?"

His cheeks turn pink. "Eh, can I really? I'd love to!"

Before Palm can say any more, an all-too-familiar voice booms by Leorio's left ear.

"Yo, Leorio! Classes haven't even started and you're already chatting up the prettiest girls in school? What a ladies' man! You're making your old friend tear up with pride!"

"Pietro!" Leorio gasps. "Where the hell were you last night, man? I was blowing up your goddamn phone!"

Being several inches shorter, Pietro has to tiptoe to capture Leorio's neck with his arm. He playfully grinds his fist against Leorio's spiky dark hair — a greeting they've exchanged practically since they were in diapers.

Palm tucks the errant strands of her hair behind her ear. "Well, Leorio? Aren't you going to introduce me to this friend of yours?"

Leorio yanks himself free from the noogie. "Yeah, sorry! This is Pietro, a junior at U of Z. We grew up together. Pietro, this is Palm. She and two other sophomores were sweet enough to welcome me to Milsy Hall. Unlike you, you good-for-nothing no-show!"

"Oh, come on," Pietro groans. "That wasn't my fault. I was over at Dolle Residence Hall, and my battery bitched out without warning. Still, I was nice enough to come and wish you luck, wasn't I?"

Leorio parts his mouth to reply, but to his surprise, Palm chimes in first. "Yes, it's incredibly nice of you to shower your lowerclassman with so much support. I feel like I've seen you around before. Are you volunteering for the orientation too?"

"No, but I'm popping in now and again," Pietro says. "As a photographer for The World Tree Chronicle, I'm supposed to be documenting anything of interest."

Palm clasps her hands together. "Ah! A journalist? You must have lots of stories!"

Pietro grins. "I've got a few."

"Perhaps you'd like to share some of your tales with us tonight?" Palm suggests. "The gang's going drinking at Mobius Bar."

Pietro gives her a thumbs-up. "Sounds good! Count me and Leorio in!"

Before Leorio can get a word out, Pietro and Palm have exchanged phones to type in their respective numbers. For all Pietro's praise of Leorio's Lothario ways earlier, he's always had the upper hand whenever ladies are involved, blessed as he is with shoulder-length brown locks and dreamboat blue eyes.

Once Pietro reclaims his phone, he slaps Leorio on the back. "See ya tonight, bud. And Ms. Siberia, it was excellent to make your acquaintance."

Pietro gives her a wink before he peaces out.

Palm's eyes are positively twinkling as she double-checks Leorio's details on the sign-up form. She then hands him an envelope.

"Everything you need for the orientation is in there," Palm tells Leorio. "Brochures, flyers for student organizations, a copy of the school hymn's lyrics, everything. You may want to take out the blue sheet of paper. You'll need it for the first game today."

"Thanks a bunch, Palm," Leorio says, then heads off to find a seat neither too close nor too far from the stage.

As Palm advised, the blue paper comes in handy for the program's first activity. On the sheet are a number of rectangles, all labelled with personal questions. What's your hometown? What's your favorite color? Which celebrity do people say you look like?

The emcee instructs all the incoming freshmen to scribble down an answer to each query. Once that's over, everyone has to wander around the auditorium to search for others with the same answers to the questions. The person quickest to note down a name for each item will be declared the winner.

Upon hearing that there's a cash prize at stake, Leorio devotes an abundance of energy to the game. Combing through the crowd of mingling students, he loudly implores anybody whose favorite color is gold to approach him at once.

Leorio comes across Kurapika in his hunt.

The boy's now wearing black contacts, Leorio notices. What are those lenses for? Poor eyesight? A sensitivity to harsh lighting? Or is he simply partial to that color? The dark hue of his eyes is striking against his light hair.

And by striking, Leorio means a lightning-bolt type of striking. It's the second day in a row that Kurapika has mysteriously magicked the words away from Leorio's throat.

There's a beat before Leorio remembers how to speak. And when he does, he's as keyed up as he's ever been. "Kurapika! Some upperclassmen and I are gonna be hanging out at Mobius Bar tonight! You should come too!"

Kurapika is staring at the space above Leorio's shoulder. "I'll pass."

"I'll spot you, just this once! So you don't have to shell out any jenny for your drinks! I wanna introduce you to my new friends. Well, they're not all new. One of 'em, I've known since we were kids. He —"

"Excuse me," Kurapika interrupts. "I have to pass through, and you're in my way again."

Leorio shuts up and squeezes against the crush of bodies around them so that Kurapika has enough space to move ahead. Then Leorio belatedly realizes something.

"Hey!" Leorio calls out after Kurapika. "When you said you'd pass, what did you mean? Did you mean you can't join us later, or did you literally mean you just wanted to pass through this way? Will I be seeing you at the bar tonight or not?"

Amidst all the hubbub, Kurapika doesn't appear to hear Leorio's call.

Being six-foot-four, Leorio has no trouble following Kurapika's path with his eyes. Single-mindedly, the boy's pushing his way through the throng. He doesn't speak to anyone and doesn't respond when spoken to.

Where can Kurapika be going? Which lucky bastard in the auditorium has caught his attention, when Leorio couldn't manage to keep it for even a few stinking seconds?

As it turns out, Kurapika isn't hunting for anyone in this game. He arrives at the edge of everyone's bodies and whirls around to watch everything he's left behind — all the sweaty hands shaking, all the eyes crinkling with smiles, all the mouths bursting into laughter. He stands there in silence, on the fringes, without a single name recorded on the rectangles of his blue paper.

Leorio now consults his own sheet. He scans the boxes for an item that he and Kurapika might possibly have in common. If he finds something like that, he'll then have a solid excuse to join Kurapika on the sidelines and start a conversation that flows, and flows some more.

But none of these questions seem promising, at least at first glance. Even though they're roommates, Leorio and Kurapika are worlds apart, aren't they?

Kurapika doesn't show up for drinks at Mobius Bar that night. And as the nights of orientation week creep past, his face never once gleams in the neon blues and pinks of the counter's lighting scheme. Nor does he ever feed coins into the jukebox that only spits out city pop tracks and vaporwave remixes, or partake in the communal bowl of nuts that Leorio and his friends pass amongst themselves.

Each morning, Leorio invites him to the next nightly escapade, and Kurapika keeps nodding in purported agreement. But his artificially black eyes are always far away, as if Leorio's repeated requests for his company have wafted into one ear and out the other.

These past few days, the trio of sophomores have taken Leorio under their wing. Pietro, as well, always checks in — sometimes somewhat late — to steadily stoke the sparks that flew between him and Palm at their first encounter, until it eventually bursts into a full-blown conflagration.

Frequently, the group will encourage a freshman wandering into the bar to join them in their revelry. First-years are often distinguishable by their fingers that fidget and their eyes that dart around as if they're waiting for a bouncer to escort them out.

One time, after Pietro graciously invited one of these twitchy types to sit with them, the guy eventually admitted that he wasn't even a student at U of Z. Instead, he was a junkie who'd only come in for a purchase. He couldn't for the life of him figure out who his dealer was supposed to be since the man had apparently shaved off his mullet and his mustache recently. And so the poor guy left. The group had a good laugh at this episode of mistaken identity. And despite being the butt of the joke, Pietro laughed more heartily than any of them.

After the gang says their goodbyes and disperses for the night, Leorio returns to the dormitory with his head pleasantly buzzed. Just two or three fingers of whiskey, at most. It's only a few minutes after midnight by then, but Kurapika is already buried beneath the blankets and lying facing away from Leorio.

Often, Leorio's tempted to fall fully-clothed over his own bed and sink into sweet slumber, but he forces himself to undress. Hoping that Kurapika's still awake, Leorio babbles about the night's adventures and about his wishes for the next caper.

And just like that, orientation week closes. The first day of classes for all levels of Zaban University is on Monday, just a weekend away.

On Friday evening, Leorio stands in front of the full-length mirror in their room and weighs which necktie to wear. "What do you think, Kurapika?" he asks.

Kurapika, who's sitting cross-legged on his bed with a world history textbook propped open over his lap, glances up. "About what?"

"Striped or dotted?"

Kurapika pauses to consider these options. "Neither," he decides. "Go without a tie, and keep three buttons undone. You've obviously devoted a lot of attention to your chest while working out, so you may as well draw attention to one of your best assets."

For the first time ever, Leorio's grateful that Kurapika has such an aversion to eye contact. This way, he'll never know that Leorio's face has just gone up in flames.

Kurapika flips to the next page of his book, then says lightly, "Whether or not you choose to wear a tie, remember to shave off your mullet and your mustache before you go. I hear it's the trending look these days."

Leorio's hands, which are unbuttoning his shirt as suggested, freeze. "I had no clue you heard me chattering away last night. Have you been listening to me every night?"

Kurapika's index finger idly wanders down the page. "You bumble around the room whenever you come in. It's impossible to sleep through any of that."

"I — I don't bumble around!"

"Your drunken slurring has turned into my nightly radio show," Kurapika says. "I wonder if I have enough grounds by now to apply for a room reassignment."

"Dream on! Bumbling and slurring are hardly criminal behavior!"

Looking into the mirror again, Leorio examines the now exposed area below his throat. Kurapika was right — wearing his shirt in this way highlights the sculpted muscles of his chest. He raises his gaze to his face. Good, his cheeks have lost their fruity color from earlier.

Leorio clears his throat. "Okay, Kurapika. Close your book and put on your shoes. We're going out. And I won't let you duck me this time!"

"If I've evaded all your social invitations from before, what makes you think I'll change my mind now?"

"Tonight's special!" Leorio exclaims. "We're not just hanging out at Mobius. It's an actual party this time. The residents of Dolle Hall are throwing one last bash before classes start once and for all. Lots of upperclassmen — and not just those who volunteered for the orientation — drove up to campus early especially for this party."

Kurapika doesn't raise his brown eyes from the pages of his book. "Can't go. I have loads to study."

Leorio throws up his hands. "Ugh! How much advanced studying have you done since we arrived? Come on, Kurapika! Please do this for me, if not for yourself! Do you realize that I'll be everyone's hero if I can convince you — the legend who aced the admission test — to show your face at a party? You'll be an instant hit. And I'll be one too, just for taking you. Besides, Dolle Hall is an all-girls residence. It's not co-ed like Milsy. Picture that scenario — tons of girls flocking over to you, fawning over you. Not just first-years, but upper years too."

Kurapika scrunches up his small nose at this mental image. "As appealing as being poked and prodded by a dormitory's worth of girls sounds, it's a no for me."

Leorio sighs. "Well, I guess I tried. See ya, Kurapika."

"Do note that, if you arrive after one in the morning, I'd prefer to opt out of your regular radio show of slurring," Kurapika says before burying his face behind his book.

On this ironic note, Leorio leaves for the party. Upon turning a corner, he bumps into three guys he's never seen before.

At the front is the tallest one. He's nearly at Leorio's height, with amber eyes. His scarlet hair, gelled sharply upward, looks like a crackling bonfire, except with none of the warmth.

The guy to the redhead's right has skin equally as paper-white. Apart from that, however, the both of them couldn't look more different. The second guy's hair is long and straight. As black as an abyss, the same as his eyes.

As for the guy to the left, his hair is dark blond, perhaps the same shade as Kurapika's hair when soaked in the rain. His eyes, too, are brown, but duller than Kurapika's. The most notable thing about this third guy is the blazer he wears — a glittering golden eyesore that makes Leorio doubt whether gold should be his favorite color after all.

Although all three individuals are strangers to Leorio, his stomach knots with discomfort upon observing them. He can't make heads or tails of this physiological reaction.

They're heading in the same direction that Leorio has left. The redhead flashes an enigmatic smile at him just before he prances out of sight.

Bile rises suddenly in Leorio's throat, but he forces it down and hurries on. He doesn't want to be late for the party, does he?

As Leorio turns another corner, he recalls out of nowhere what he thinks he heard Kurapika say under his breath, after their first night together in the dorm:

But the odds are stacked against me, of course.