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 7: Roads where monsters don't exist

The night is devoid of sleep. Every creak of the floorboard or rattle of the window causes Kurapika to bolt upright in bed, When his door finally cracks open — after hours of waiting with bated breath — he nearly wallops the person intruding with a hardbound book straight to the head.

"It's me, Kurapika. Just me."

"Pairo!" Kurapika gasps. "I'm sorry! I thought —"

"Hey, it's okay. I know. Believe me, I know." Pairo gently pries the book from Kurapika's white-knuckled grip. He squints at the cover by lamplight. "Don's Unabridged Dictionary? Don't tell me you were memorizing definitions in the middle of the night? What letter have you reached by now? L?"

"No, no." Kurapika presses his palms against his weary eyes. "This was just the heaviest book I could find."

Pairo returns the dictionary to the conspicuous gap where it belongs on the shelf. "Can't sleep?"

"I'm trying to."

"I'm having trouble too. Come on. Let's lie down and try again."

They get under the covers of Kurapika's bed. Pairo, who can never drift off without hugging a pillow, wraps his arms around Kurapika's waist. He presses his face against Kurapika's back — right between the shoulder blades — and is softly snoring in under a minute.

So Pairo can still hold him like this. Kurapika shouldn't have worried, after all, that his cousin would look at him differently after witnessing those things.

Kurapika tries timing every inhale, every exhale with the rhythm of the breathing behind him. Eventually, his own elevated heart rate stabilizes. Sandman won't take him, not just yet. Even so, with Pairo embracing him, Kurapika is beginning to believe that nobody else will. Not tonight, at least.

Kurapika trains his eyes on the glowing green hands of the clock. Five minutes before his morning alarm is set to ring, he reaches into a bedside drawer for a glass thermometer. He sticks its silver tip against the bulb of his lamp and watches the mercury rising.

"Hmm? Kurapika? What's wrong?" After all this fumbling, Pairo has awakened.

Kurapika shushes him. "Nothing's wrong. Just close your eyes."

Defying this directive, Pairo opens his eyes wide. He silently observes Kurapika's trick with the thermometer.

"I'm waiting for it to reach 38 degrees Celsius," Kurapika explains. "High enough for Mama and Papa to allow me to sleep in, but not high enough that they'd tend to me. I'm planning to ditch for a few days. A week, maybe."

Pairo sits up and rubs his eyes. "Yeah. Good idea. Stay here and rest."

"Why don't you skip school with me? You need a break more than I do, Pairo."

But Pairo is already swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. "Can't. I got a warning from my homeroom teacher. If I incur any more absences, I'll be held back."

"A warning?" This is the first that Kurapika's heard about this. Hasn't Pairo been leaving for school and getting back home at roughly the same time? If he hasn't been attending classes, then what's he been doing? "Pairo —"

His cousin's already by the door. "I've got to get ready. See you after school, Kurapika."

The shrill ringing of the alarm clock drowns out whatever questions Kurapika might have thrown toward Pairo's retreating back.

In the week that follows, Kurapika keeps to his bed. He starts off his days attempting to read. Perhaps he should strive toward the L's in the dictionary to impress Pairo.

But sooner or later, a daze dissipates and erases all the definitions from the pages. He lets the book rest over his reclining body, like a gigantic butterfly pinned to a corkboard.

With no concept of how much time trickles by, he stares at the ceiling. He only comes back to himself when he hears the telltale thumping of Pairo's return. Kurapika sits up swiftly and swipes at the dampness running down his cheeks. He's ready to beam at his cousin when he cracks open the door.

Once Pairo steps inside, he stays close to Kurapika and barely ever leaves.

Methodically, Kurapika embarks upon a line of questioning meant to extract the truth from the interstices between all the topics and places and names that neither of them can bear to say.

How did the pop quiz go? Ah, you only made a couple of mistakes? Do you remember what they were, so we can go over them together? About lunch, what did you buy from the cafeteria? Did you finish your meal on your own, or did you share with someone? Was the walk home pleasant? Oh, it rained again? Do remember to take an umbrella tomorrow, okay? You stopped by the shops to wait out the storm, didn't you? Did other townspeople take shelter with you? Was anyone you recognized present? No? Only strangers?

Once Kurapika has verified in this roundabout manner that those people haven't made contact with Pairo, he relaxes. He assists his cousin with his homework. He persuades his parents to let them take their meals in his bedroom. This way, there are less opportunities for questions to arise about the friction burns around their wrists, or about the ever-present dark circles under Kurapika's eyes.

While his parents have no issues with Pairo sleeping in Kurapika's bedroom, they spread a comforter on the foot of the bed so that Pairo will have diminished chances of catching their son's supposed fever.

Of course, Kurapika will never permit Pairo to camp out on the floor. He tolerates the tiles against his back and offers Pairo his bed. Pairo always scoots to the very edge so that he can fall asleep with their fingers interlinked. Deep into the night, Kurapika gazes at Pairo's peaceful face. Whenever the small hand twitches in his, he squeezes it softly. He's hoping to steer his cousin to the better roads of dreamland, where pain is a thing of the past and monsters don't exist.

Monday has arrived. Like it or not, it's time for Kurapika to stop hiding from the world. He mounts his bicycle and waits for his cousin to get on.

But Pairo doesn't move a muscle. "Nothing's changed, Kurapika."

"What? Everything's changed. Those people — they haven't tormented you again, have they?"

Pairo shakes his head. "I swear I'm safe. But that doesn't mean it's a good idea for us to go to school together."

Kurapika rolls his bike backward to face his cousin properly. "Listen, Pairo. We'll always be safer together than when we're separate."

"You don't really believe that, do you? Look what happened the last time we hung out in public. The world pretty much went up in flames."

Pairo's got a point. Still, Kurapika somehow presumed that one good thing would come from this mess — the dissolution of the distance between them. But it seems like their renewed closeness must be confined behind closed doors.

Pairo crouches down. While pretending to tie his shoelaces, he quietly urges Kurapika to go ahead and leave him behind.

Nobody bats an eye when Kurapika enters classroom 1–A, even though he's been absent without an explanation for a week. So the unspoken rule persists. Everybody here is still forbidden from acting familiar with a first-day pariah like Kurapika.

There's one notable exception. As Kurapika hooks his messenger bag over the back of his chair, his seatmate nods at him. Linssen takes a stack of papers from his own bag and sets them on Kurapika's desk.

Eyebrows raised, Kurapika checks the sheets his seatmate gave him. He recognizes Linssen's cramped handwriting. These look like photocopied notes for all the classes Kurapika missed.

Kurapika meets Linssen's dark eyes and mouths his thanks.

During lunch break, Kurapika visits the library as always. He forgoes his usual spot in favor of a corner table. He needs to go over Linssen's notes. The last thing he wants is to fall behind his classmates at 1–A, the designated section for the most promising freshmen, whether in the fields of academics, sports, the arts, or sociopolitical aspirations.

Just based on the way these notes are organized, Linssen is obviously an exceptional student. He might even be Kurapika's biggest competition in his goal to graduate as valedictorian. This makes Linssen's unprompted act of kindness all the more baffling. Can it be that Kurapika has a chance of befriending someone on his wavelength in this school, after all?

As he's absorbed in speed-reading page after page, a shadow falls over the minuscule penmanship. There's the sound of a chair scraping backward. Is someone joining him at his table? This is a first, since most everyone prefers converging in the cafeteria or soaking in the courtyard sun. Who else can this be but his favorite person in the world? Has he changed his mind since this morning?

The cheerful greeting dies in Kurapika's throat once he glances up from the notes.

A silver-haired boy smiles from a seat across the table. Peeping from his pocket is an identification card — unpunched, lacking a lanyard, and signifying that he's two years ahead. His name isn't presently visible, but Kurapika hasn't forgotten.

"There you are, Kurapika Kurta. We haven't been formally introduced, have we?" The junior sticks out his hand. "My name's Hisoka Mor —"

Kurapika slaps his hand away. "I know who you are. You're one of them. I've got nothing to say to the likes of you."

"I'm not a member of the Spider, if that's what you're suggesting. You heard what they said. At most, I'm an acquaintance. They don't treat me as a friend. I merely have a business partnership with their leader, Chrollo."

Kurapika flinches upon hearing that name. "So? Are you here to pass on a message?"

Hisoka holds up his hands, as if insisting on his innocence. Red-inked doodles cover the entirety of both his palms, with those on his right much wonkier. "I carry no messages from your worst enemies. I'm here on my own behalf."

"So what do you want from me?"

Hisoka clasps his hands over the table. "In the interest of starting off on the right foot, let's get one thing out of the way first. I promise to always be 100% honest with you."

Kurapika has nothing to say to this. Itching to return to studying, he fingers the notes Linssen gave him.

"This past week," Hisoka continues, "I've been hunting for you everywhere. I visited all the first-year classrooms to ask about you. I received no answers until I chanced upon your adorable cousin. Of course, he immediately walked in the opposite direction at the sight of me."

"As he should!" Kurapika points an admonishing finger at Hisoka. "You stay away from my cousin! I don't want him mixing with delinquents like you!"

Hisoka sniffs. "How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not a part of any gang? Besides, your cousin was merely a means to an end. Finding you was my true objective."

"Why were you looking for me?"

"I'm interested in getting to know you. I want to be your friend."

Kurapika, who's been bracing himself for any number of ominous responses from this stranger, is taken aback. "What makes you think I'd agree to be friends with you?"

Smirking, Hisoka leans back against his chair. "I'm presuming a lonely boy like you would welcome friendship with anyone in the world."

"Who says I'm lonely? I might be alone now, but I do have friends." Well, Kurapika's got a grand total of one friend. They're plenty friendly at home, even though they pretend to be strangers everywhere else.

"Please don't be deceitful with me when I've already pledged my honesty. The truth is, I recognized you right away that day. I've seen you around school. You're always alone, always disconnected from the sea of people surrounding you. You and I, we have that in common. I get what it's like when nobody can stand you. But we can fulfill each other's needs. We can lick each other's wounds. We can be useful to each other."

Kurapika crosses his arms over his chest. "Oh yeah? And how exactly do you intend to be useful to me?"

"I can provide you with insider information."

"What information?" Kurapika prompts.

"Are you agreeing to be my friend, then?"

"I'm agreeing to consider it after I've ascertained the nature, quality, and accuracy of your information."

Hisoka snickers. "Ah, with a mouth like that, I'm no longer surprised that you've gotten yourself in so many tight spots lately. Listen up. This is about that cousin of yours, the one everyone else mistook as your brother. Remember how, back in the hideout, Chrollo claimed that he was done dealing with the both of you? That's only half the truth. A certain somebody paid a hefty price to take you off Chrollo's radar, but your cousin wasn't extended the same courtesy. So he'd better watch his back."

"No." The word involuntarily falls from Kurapika's mouth as his heart sinks to his stomach. "Pairo told me — he promised me — that those people haven't so much as looked in his direction since that day. He assured me that the bullying was over for good."

Hisoka shrugs. "If the gang hasn't initiated contact yet, they will soon. He left a big impression on them last time, so they've got plans for him. Good or bad — who knows? It wouldn't be the first time the Spider's head has needed to fill a vacated spot among the twelve limbs. Your cousin overpowered a number of them, so he could be getting recruited. I've considered putting my own name in the hat once or twice, but what can I say? I value my life of freedom."

That afternoon, Kurapika helps Pairo clean his bedroom. Several garbage bags and soiled dust rags later, everything scattered on the floor has either been sorted or thrown away. All the room's surfaces have been scrubbed and restored to their original color.

Fresh from a shower, Kurapika stretches across the newly laundered sheets of Pairo's bed. "Now, instead of always hanging out in my room, we can unwind in yours for a change."

Pairo is sitting at his uncluttered desk as he rubs his wet hair with a towel. "Thanks, Kurapika. I doubt I'd have the energy to get everything in order without you."

"Happy to help," Kurapika says, gazing at the ceiling. What should they do about the cracks up there? Should Kurapika repaint the ceiling himself? Where can he get a ladder? "Oh, right. I was supposed to ask you something, Pairo."

"What's up?"

This issue has plagued Kurapika ever since he realized that his cousin was having problems with bullies. "It's about that school trip incident. You know, before you moved to Lukso."

"My accident? What about it?"

"Back then, did you really fall off the cliff? Or did someone, um —" Kurapika swallows before he carries on. "Did somebody push you? Were the people from your old school picking on you too?"

Lips pursed tightly, Pairo tosses his towel in the laundry basket's direction. It misses by a considerable distance. "What are you trying to say, Kurapika? Are you calling me a liar? Why would I lie to you about the reason I'm disabled?"

"That's not it. I'm just trying to understand you better. Why didn't you come and talk to me about what they were putting you through?" Kurapika isn't referring to Pairo's old schoolmates this time. "I tried reaching out to you — again and again — but you only pushed me away. It makes me wonder whether there's something in your history that's holding you back from being honest with me. Why did we have to be kidnapped and —" He has to take a shaky breath to keep speaking. "And attacked first before I could understand what's been hurting you? Don't you trust me at all?"

Pairo shoves his chair backward and stands up. He's almost out the doorway when Kurapika catches his arm.

"Wait, Pairo. Please don't leave."

His cousin is staring ahead. His voice is agitated. "I never want to talk about what happened. I'd rather die than let those images cross my mind again. All those terrible things they did to you."

This is the first time Kurapika has summoned up the courage to directly discuss the incident at the warehouse. He assumed that Pairo was refraining from raising the matter out of consideration for his feelings. He was wrong.

Pairo never wants to talk about what happened? But who else can bear the weight of this secret that seizes and squeezes Kurapika's insides into a pulp at seemingly arbitrary moments of the day? His cousin's the only person who's seen and accepted every side of him. But has Pairo finally glimpsed something that he can't stomach?

The darkness inside Kurapika that's been spreading since that day — it must be weaving through all the words he says. It must be dulling the color of his eyes. It must be contaminating every single thing he touches.

The thought of Pairo finding him repulsive makes his throat burn with unshed tears. But he commands himself not to break down. Bawling like a brat might drive his cousin even farther away. "Okay, I won't bring up what happened. Not now, not ever again. I promise. So please don't go. There's something else I have to tell you."

"Spit it out, then," Pairo says.

Kurapika passes on Hisoka's warning in the library.

When Pairo only stares silently, Kurapika asks, "Do you think we should report them before they can try anything? If they don't plan to honor their end of the agreement, then why should we?"

Pairo's eyes go as wide as saucers. "Report them? Do you remember what their leader said? If we rat them out, he'll target you, me, your parents! He'll burn this house down!" His voice gets even louder, angrier. "Kurapika! Isn't life hell enough without you going around worsening everything? What in the world are you thinking?"

"Fine, reporting them is out," Kurapika amends, trying to appease him. "If we can't do that, we have no choice except to stick together wherever we go, especially in school. I worry about you, Pairo. Every minute of the day. I need to make sure you're safe."

"No!" Pairo's voice is vehement. "You should stay far away from me, Kurapika! You can't get involved with me again! Do you realize how much I regret spending that day with you? Because we were together in public, that bastard, he —" Pairo gnashes his teeth and doesn't finish his sentence. There's that fury again, the one that flowed out unbridled in the hideout. His eyes are dilating to a dangerous extent, appearing to spark an igneous red. "Kurapika, the Spider is my problem, not yours. Never make contact, and never speak ill of them. I'll keep those beasts at bay on my own. Understand?"

"Pairo —"

"I said, do you understand, Kurapika?"

Kurapika is forced to nod and agree. He'll stay away. He won't tell a soul.

His cousin releases a long sigh of relief. He reaches for Kurapika's right hand and rubs it between both of his. For the first time ever, his touch doesn't give Kurapika any comfort.

"Just hold on, Kurapika," Pairo says softly. "This will all be over soon. I can feel it in my bones."

As it turns out, Pairo's prediction is both right and wrong. The very next day, he doesn't come home from school. This vanishing puts an end to many things. But, in another sense, it's also a catalyst.

From sunset to midnight, Kurapika rides his bike to all the places he's ever been with his cousin. Piko. The clinic where he has his weekly check-ups. The town library, shuttered past seven. The town square. The shops.

He even rides to the high school and scales right up the gates. Armed with nothing but a flashlight, he prowls the empty corridors and peers into every classroom.

Surely, there are other locations his cousin knows that he's never visited before. In the months they were apart, which places did Pairo frequent? He was skipping school often enough to merit a warning, but he wasn't holed up at home. So where did he go?

No matter where Kurapika searches, Pairo is nowhere to be found.