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 (in the uncensored AO3 version): Sexual content involving minors, non-consent/dubious consent, implied self-harm. Please skip this chapter if these topics are triggering or objectionable to you.

Chapter 9: The summit of fleshly sensation

As soon as they regroup in an empty classroom after school, Hisoka gets down to brass tacks. "So tell me. What makes those exceptional eyes of yours switch colors?"

"Whenever I experience intense emotions," Kurapika explains, "my pupils dilate to an extreme extent, which makes my irises appear red."

"Intense emotions, huh? Attraction, maybe? Arousal?"

"Any emotion dialed up to its maximum," Kurapika responds. "Fear, fury, misery, ecstasy. But it's only a trick of the light. The color doesn't fundamentally change. My eyes have always been brown."

"Trick of the light or not, your eyes may be your ultimate downfall. That's what happened to your beloved cousin, after all. Revealing even a glimpse of that color — scarlet as blooming blood — was sufficient to send the Spider into the frenzy that would forever seal his fate."

Kurapika stares at his hands, tightly clasped over his lap.

"Since the Spiders are institutionalized for the moment," Hisoka continues, "they don't present an immediate problem. But there are other gangs out there. Other crooks and murderers and cannibals. Anywhere you go, there will be nefarious forces who'll see once-in-a-lifetime eyes like yours as something to steal or exploit or destroy. What will you do if you encounter those types again?"

Kurapika raises his gaze to meet Hisoka's. "I'll tell them what I told you just now. The bloody color of my eyes is nothing more than a mirage — a surface-level genetic anomaly that doesn't affect my day-to-day disposition or essential humanity."

"We're talking about monsters here, Kurapika. Do you think they'd ever listen to reason? Why, your cousin must've denied the baseless accusations that he was a red-eyed demon until the very end! But what good would the truth do against a menace like Chrollo?"

Upon hearing that name, Kurapika resumes staring at his own clenched fists.

"Fortunately for you," Hisoka says, "you have an invaluable ally in me. I was as friendly with the Spider as an outsider can ever hope to be, so I have a unique understanding of how to keep beasts like them at bay. As long as you stick with me, you may have a shot at fighting your fate. You don't want anyone to get close enough to gouge out your eyeballs, slice them up like fruit, and swallow them, do you?"

Kurapika's voice is barely audible even in this sealed room. "No. Of course not."

"Then you don't have a death wish? When we spoke earlier, you sounded like you were resigned to the worst. I've got to tell you — I have zero interest in attempting to salvage a lost cause."

Kurapika's eyes spark red for just a split-second. "There's something I still need to do. There's no way I can disappear before then."

Hisoka rubs the boy's knee in a bracing manner. "That's the spirit! Survival is an attainable goal, certainly, if you have somebody like me to guide you. So are you ready to learn the ways you can protect yourself from a world that's out to get you?"

"I am."

"Last chance to change your mind, Kurapika. If we're doing this for real, I won't go easy on you. I'll push you right to your limits. And I won't tolerate any pussying out midway."

"I'm no pussy," Kurapika insists. "I won't break so easily. I'll do whatever it takes to stay alive."

"Well, it all boils down to this. You have to learn how to control your emotions so that your eyes won't flash stoplight-red at inopportune moments."

Kurapika crosses his arms over his chest. "That's it? Come on, I've realized that much."

"Your objective may be plain as day, but the manner of execution is less so. Tell me this. If you already realized how crucial it is to hide the alternate color of your eyes from everyone, then why was I able to trigger it so easily in the library?"

Kurapika stiffens. "You were testing me then?"

"Not quite. I was only telling you the truth about poor Pairo's missing eyes. But the volatility of your response speaks volumes about how far you have to go, still."

Kurapika is quiet for a minute. Then he swallows and launches back into speech. "Look, I've already been working overtime to rein in my emotions. Every waking moment, I crowd my head with concepts and words and numbers to drown out everything else. At night, I barely sleep since my nightmares keep dragging me back to that warehouse, to those woods. Over and over again."

"You've been dreaming about those places? So you see me at night too?"

Kurapika ignores his eager tone. "I'm doing everything I can to stay calm and cool. But, as evidenced by what transpired this afternoon, even my best efforts have fallen short. What else can I do? I seriously want to know."

This entire time they've been talking, they've been sitting on separate desks, facing each other. But Hisoka ambles over now to wrap his arm around the boy's narrow shoulders. "Listen. You're going about this in the worst way imaginable. No offense. You can't just shove down every unpleasant thought and hope for the best. Sooner or later, everything you've been bottling up will come bubbling out and betray you. Rather than repressing your emotions, you've got to find an avenue where you can safely release them in one fell swoop to an audience of one."

Hisoka catches Kurapika's hand with his. He makes Kurapika's index finger tap the tip of his own nose.

Kurapika draws back his hand. "Express all my feelings to you? What exactly would that entail? Daily heart-to-hearts like this one? You'll be sick of my melodrama soon enough."

"That's not at all what I'm suggesting. Who do you think I am? Your shrink?"

"Speaking of that, my parents have been looking for a therapist for me lately. I've tried insisting it's pointless, but nothing I say can dissuade them."

"Just suck it up and let your folks do whatever they want, at least while you live under their roof," Hisoka advises. "If you outwardly abide by their wishes, you'll have more freedom to do what you want on the down low. I agree with you though that therapy won't solve any of your problems."

"It won't bring him back," Kurapika says softly.

"It will do jackshit for you. You're way too clever to be therapized. You can talk circles around anybody. The psychobabble of even the most decorated psychologist can't confuse someone like you, as astute as you are."

"So if we're not utilizing anything akin to therapy, what will we be doing?" Kurapika inquires.

"The treatment I'm prescribing for you doesn't require aimless conversation. Together, we'll be tapping into pure, unadulterated sensation. I know all the secret tricks for you to unleash all your sorrow and shame without uttering a single word."

At midnight on the dot, Hisoka climbs into Kurapika's window and joins him in bed. Even with all the groundwork he's painstakingly laid until this point, Hisoka has to spout about a half-hour's worth of hushed pleas until Kurapika's vehement denials finally subside.

Hisoka's voice is solemn. "Remember, golden boy. You still owe me a favor for finding your cousin. Without me, your family wouldn't have a body to bury."

With a frustrated groan, Kurapika swivels his head and crushes his face against a pillow.

At last, Hisoka's most coveted prize is in his hands. He rains reverent kisses down Kurapika's petal-white neck — fragile as freshly-blown glass.

Then Hisoka's need outstrips whatever fleeting intent he has to remain gentle. He rips off the boy's shorts and briefs as if they're the wrapping paper concealing a gift he can no longer resist opening. Sighing, he parts the boy's bare legs and settles between them.

(There is a deleted scene here.)

Afterward, Hisoka perches on the bathtub's edge and observes as Kurapika scrubs the blood and grease from his sheets. The boy bears down so firmly on the fabric that ruddy scrapes appear all over his knuckles.

An amused smile plays on Hisoka's lips. "My, you bleed as easily as you vomit. But you know, in the midst of it, your eyes were a thousand times redder than your hands right now. I should've carried you toward a mirror so you could take a long look at yourself."

"I don't have a mirror in my bedroom anymore."

"No?"

"I broke it about a week ago," Kurapika tells him.

"No kidding. How is it that you can be — bar none — the most beautiful person in school though you don't primp in front of the mirror in the mornings like the rest of us? You must be born with it." Hisoka pauses, but the boy has no response for the lavish heaps of praise. "Of course, your eyes are your most arresting feature of all. I'm beginning to see why Chrollo and the rest were so ready to risk everything. Just the sight of that scarlet will instantly shove minds weaker than mine to the very brink of insanity."

Kurapika sharply dunks the sheets into the bathwater, which sloshes over the tiles. "Don't."

"It's true. Your cousin would still be here if it wasn't."

"Don't say that name anymore," Kurapika implores. "The gang leader's, I mean. I can't stand hearing it."

"Hmm. You're as uptight now as you usually are. Don't forget, you can't be safe around anyone else unless you can let down your guard with me. You were holding back earlier, I could tell. Next time, I want to see how much farther you can go. How much louder you can scream."

Kurapika grimaces. "There won't be any screaming here. If I so much as yelp while stubbing my toe, my parents will come rushing in to save me. They're perpetually on the lookout for disaster these days, which should be no surprise to anyone."

"That's why our next order of business is to secure a location where you can truly let loose. You wouldn't, by any chance, know a place like that, would you?"

The next day, Kurapika leads the way toward a clearing in a nearby thicket. "I wasn't planning on ever venturing here again, but somehow the deluge of memories seems vastly preferable to my parents calling the police on you."

Hisoka beams as he surveys the area. "This place will do perfectly. Even if we howl at the top of our lungs, anyone who hears us will assume we're wolves."

(There is a deleted scene here.)

Another day, as Hisoka is lying supine over the grass to ride out his latest high, Kurapika crawls toward a broad rock on the clearing's edge. He takes a hardbound book from beneath it and begins reading.

Hisoka has just enough energy to roll over and shove his face against the boy's bare lap. He knocks the book from Kurapika's hands in the process.

"Hey!" Kurapika protests.

"I never complain when you're ignoring me in the library," Hisoka grumbles. "But when we're here in the clearing, you shouldn't look at anything but me."

"I have no choice except to look at you, with your face within kissing distance from my —"

Hisoka cuts in. "Listen up. Something interesting just occurred to me. Do you remember how Chrollo —"

It's Kurapika's turn to interrupt. "I've told you countless times. I hate it when you say that name."

"Remember how Creep-o was literal inches away from violating you? Prior to that moment, he had zero experience with men. But all it took was a single look at you, then suddenly his pants were down. And he wasn't the only one who responded that way in the warehouse. Has anything like that ever happened to you before?"

Kurapika stays silent. He reaches for the book that's fallen on the grass. But Hisoka nudges it away with his foot, beyond the boy's reach.

"Concentrate, Kurapika. We're talking about something important. So here's my working theory. There's something about you that causes even the straightest of males to stray. It's the way you smell, I think. Your singular scent places you in even greater peril." Hisoka snickers as the boy tugs the collar of his uniform over his nose to take a whiff. "Hey, you don't stink or anything. Quite the opposite, actually. You're teeming with pheromones."

Kurapika raises an eyebrow. "Pheromones? Scientific studies have failed to definitively prove that phenomenon, at least as it applies to the human species. It's nothing but a myth for us."

"Science can't solve everything. You should know that by now. Didn't you tell me that shrink of yours spouts nothing but pointless platitudes?"

"Did I?"

"Yes, just last night. You've already forgotten?"

"Well, I've reconsidered my initial assessment of my therapist," Kurapika replies. "They have a multitude of intriguing insights about the nature of trauma."

Hisoka scoffs. "Really now? You're letting yourself be brainwashed after a couple of visits to that quack's office? So what intriguing insights did they share about your almost-rapist?"

"I didn't —"

"And what did your shrink say about me?" Hisoka demands. "Let me guess — they designated me as a goddamn rapist too, just because I'm a little older and a lot more experienced than you. Did the phrase unhealthy power dynamics get bandied about in their office? Such nonsense! I wonder if they'd have the same scientific opinion if I played them a video of you — whorishly spreading your legs for me and commanding me to give it to you good?"

"Hisoka, I'd never return to the office of any medical professional if they ever maligned you like that. We might've gotten off to a rocky start, but I'm on your team now. You know that."

Hisoka nods. Realizing that he's just gone overboard, he tackles Kurapika to the ground for reconciliatory cuddles.

Hisoka waits until the boy returns his embrace before picking up the conversation once more. "So tell me about the guy who attacked you before. There was another guy, wasn't there? I could tell by the look on your face."

"Yes, there were men who've attempted similar things in the past," Kurapika admits. "They were all strangers from town that I haven't spoken to before or since."

"I'm telling you. Pheromones."

"Those guys backed off the moment I spoke up, so I didn't see much cause for concern."

"You should be concerned!" Hisoka exclaims. "Since you're innately seductive to men, you've got to be doubly careful around them! We need to see each other more often. Sex is the best way to keep your emotions and your pheromone levels in check. And it should go without saying that I'm the only person in the world who can ever assist you with this. I'm the only one who can accept you — devilish side and deranging scent included — without succumbing to madness and fetching a spoon and —"

Kurapika springs forward to smack his hands over Hisoka's mouth. "I get it already! I don't have plans of sleeping with anyone else, so stop bringing that up!"

Hisoka peels off Kurapika's palms from his face. He glimpses the insides of Kurapika's wrists. So this is why the boy has solely worn long-sleeved shirts as of late.

Hisoka's thumbs trace over the ridged surfaces of skin. He doesn't relinquish his grip even as the boy winces and squirms. "Kurapika, should we talk about this? One or two, I might understand, given everything you've been through. But three or more? That would suggest a pattern, wouldn't it?"

Kurapika succeeds in yanking his wrists away. "Just forget that you saw anything."

"If we're meeting regularly, I'm going to keep seeing your arms. Do you want me to forget this issue exists, again and again?"

"Look, it was just this crappy thing I was trying. I desperately wanted to stop feeling the way I did. But I should've known it wouldn't work."

"Only cowards would ever go down that road," Hisoka says.

"I know that. But you don't have to stress about this anymore. I've already decided I'm never doing it again. I threw out all the sharp objects in my bedroom. Every time my head feels like exploding, I'll get out and go for a walk. It's going to be fine. My skin will heal in no time."

But can Kurapika quit a bad habit, just like that? Even though Hisoka doubts it, he doesn't say a word.