Archive of Our Own

You've got to be fucking kidding me, Kurapika thinks as he keeps rereading the same paragraph for what feels like the hundredth time. The report he's supposed to be studying is a very important one, about a case he's been struggling with for weeks.

He absolutely needs to complete this research, so he tries, and he tries again to get down to it, but his mind keeps drifting off to the events of the past year. Kurapika groans and narrows his eyes at the page, focusing on the words in front of him and trying to make sense of them.

It seems to work for a time, but when he reaches the bottom of the page, he realises he has no idea what it was about. This isn't going to work. He drops the report to wipe his hands over his face and lets out a long and tired sigh.

He can't help thinking back to what happened on the Dark Continent.

To what happened with Chrollo.

As Chrollo delivers the final blow, Kurapika allows himself to collapse onto the hard rocky ground. The gaping wound on his side is gushing blood and he's struggling to remain conscious. Pain wracks through his every nerve in hot, piercing waves, making it hard for him to focus. He tries to blink the dizziness away, but his surroundings are starting to fade to black, and his eyes are forcing themselves shut. This is bad. He could die from this. Or rather, he will die from this if he doesn’t do something. Chrollo doesn’t have a healing ability in his stupid book, and even if he had, he sure as hell wouldn’t waste it on Kurapika, even with this temporary allies bullshit. Kurapika tries to muster up the strength to summon his Holy Chain, and when he opens his eyes again, he’s almost surprised to notice that the fine metal links have indeed appeared on his right hand. He brings his thumb chain to the gash with trembling hands and exhales in relief at the warm sensation of his Nen travelling throughout his body, fixing the damage. 

The attack was so sudden and brutal that Kurapika didn’t even manage to get a good look at the vicious creature. He just knows it had huge, sharp claws and a deathly grip, and that it seemed to jump on Chrollo and him out of nowhere. It’s like there’s no end to the horrors that the Dark Continent has in store for them.

Kurapika feels his Nen subside and he lowers his gaze to stare blankly at the smooth surface of skin that shows no sign of the mortal wound that was there only a few minutes ago. 

It seems he’s not going to die today, but the thought brings him no comfort, nor anguish. It doesn’t really matter whether he gets to live for another day in this hell he’s been trapped in with his archenemy for the last six weeks. He’s been a dead man walking since he was twelve, anyway.

He sleeps with Chrollo that night. 

He can’t really explain what makes him do it. Maybe he just wants to feel something, something to feel alive, even if it’s just physical. Judging from Chrollo's eagerness, they both want the same thing.

It doesn’t last long, each taking what they need from the other, not bothering with useless touches or kisses. It is angry, and painful, and everything Kurapika needs. They don’t exchange a word during or after, because they both know it doesn’t change anything.

Still, Kurapika wakes up in the middle of the night with the awful sensation of nausea welling up his throat. As he drags himself on all fours to retch what little food he still has in his stomach, the sound of Chrollo’s cold, dark laugh echoes in the background.

They keep on having sex every time they need an outlet, and every time makes Kurapika hate himself a little more.

As weeks pass, he notices the small changes in Chrollo’s behaviour, like how his touches seem to gradually turn more tender, harsh grips replaced by soothing strokes and sharp bites by stolen kisses here and there. Kurapika doesn’t really question it, because they're back to their usual chilly reserve as soon as it’s over.

Until one day.

The sun is scorching hot and the nature around them eerily silent. They were supposed to try and scavenge for food, but when they reached the edge of the forest, they stumbled into a nightmare sight. Piles of corpses, most of them dismembered and already starting to rot, are scattered all over the open space. Bile rises up Kurapika’s throat. He’s seen his fair share of horrors, but he still has to struggle to remain composed as he moves forward to inspect the scene. His hands are shaking, and he tries not to think about the fact that he hasn’t seen or heard from Melody or Leorio since the Black Whale went down, but judging from their clothes, the group seems to have been from the lower tiers. The knot in Kurapika's stomach loosens. It's very unlikely for his friends to have been among them.

When he’s done making sure that he doesn’t know any of the victims, Kurapika turns back to Chrollo to ask what their next move should be, but the man is crouched on the ground, facing away from him. Kurapika frowns as Chrollo remains silent and unmoving, because this is usually the time when they argue about the ethics of robbing corpses to ensure their own survival. Kurapika approaches him cautiously and soon understands the reason for his uncharacteristic behaviour.

Despite the state the bodies are in, there’s no mistaking the pink hair and torn skull bandana. He already saw their corpses in Yorknew but this time, it’s definitely the real thing. Kurapika knows that they were the surgeon and torturer of the Troupe, so he can only imagine the part they played in the Kurta massacre. He clenches his fists and turns to Chrollo, but his eyes widen as he realises the leader of the Phantom Troupe is doing something Kurapika never thought him capable of. He's crying .

Probably sensing Kurapika's eyes on him, Chrollo turns to meet his gaze and they stare at each other in silence until, without really seeming to be aware of what he's doing, Chrollo starts to tell Kurapika about them. What their names were, how they met, what they were to him. Kurapika tunes him out, because he’s busy waiting for the elation to kick in. With the ones that Hisoka and him killed on the Black Whale, this means that all the original Spiders are dead. Well, all except for one, but Chrollo will soon be anyway. 

He waits, but the feeling of triumph never comes, and Kurapika suddenly feels so very tired. 

Chrollo’s voice reaches his ears again. He’s still talking about his dead comrades with this infuriatingly sad look in his eyes and Kurapika just wants to scream at him that he doesn’t care, that he would have killed them himself if he could, but he is too weary for that, too.

They need to take shelter. There is no telling where the monsters who did that are.

Soon, they’re back at their cave. The temperature drops drastically as soon as the sun disappears, and they’ve taken up the habit of sleeping back to back to save warmth. Kurapika relented, because fussing over this would be stupid. This was only practical. 

Except that this evening, just as he’s about to fall asleep, he feels Chrollo shift and wrap an arm around him. Kurapika's blood freezes as Chrollo presses him against his front so impossibly tight that Kurapika almost thinks he’s trying to choke him. But Chrollo seems to be clinging to him, like he's afraid Kurapika is going to escape, or maybe disappear. Chrollo buries his face in his hair and Kurapika can feel the man’s slow breathing on his neck. He shivers. This is out of bounds. They're not supposed to be intimate outside of sex. 

Still, the warmth of Chrollo's body encased around him is comforting, somehow. It's been so long since someone held him like this. So Kurapika shuts his eyes and his brain, and lets it go, promising himself that it would be the one and only time.

There are many more times.

Kurapika snaps out of it when his elbow slips on the table and he catches himself just before he faceplants. A glance at his watch tells him he just lost another half hour replaying past events in his head. 

Unbelievable. It’s been months since they came back from the Dark Continent, and it seems like the Spider Head is all he can think about, now.

Kurapika gets up and makes for his bedroom to slump down on his bed. He stares blankly at the cracked ceiling. No matter where he is or what he's doing, he can’t keep Chrollo from creeping into his every thought. 

It's not longing - he knows too well what longing feels like - but more like restlessness. Like there's something itching painfully on the wrong side of his skin. And it only stops when they’re together.

They met a handful of times since their return, never by chance and always in quick, passionate encounters that inevitably ended with both of them tangled in bed.

Kurapika turns on his side and curls in on himself, wrapping his arms around his legs.

He just can't stand to have him out of his sight. He needs to know where he is, what he's doing. They spent months only with each other's company, and the empty space beside him feels like a void, as if something - or rather someone - is supposed to be there. Kurapika rubs at his chest, trying to soothe the aching within it. 

He's always had his goals fueling him, he always knew which way to go and which step was next. Pass the Hunter exam. Get stronger. Take back the eyes. Kill the Spiders. 

And now that all of this is accomplished... He doesn’t know what to do with himself. He never planned further than his revenge, never thought about what would come next. Maybe, he never really believed he could actually do it.

Kurapika snorts. Bullshit. He wasn't able to do it, because Chrollo is still alive.

The first time the leader of the Phantom Troupe sought him out after the Dark Continent, Kurapika decided to play along, acting like their truce was still in place. He waited until Chrollo got distracted by his kisses to turn on him. Kurapika didn't care about having to resort to such methods, because there was just no other way for him to take Chrollo by surprise. 

And it worked. He had Chrollo at his mercy, bound in his Chain Jail with a gun pointed at his temple. He only had to pull the trigger to rid the world of this monster. Chrollo wasn’t even struggling. He just studied Kurapika’s face calmly with his big grey eyes, like he was trying to sear his murderer's features onto his brain. 

Kurapika spent all his life fantasising about ending the Phantom Troupe. He sacrificed everything, even his own lifespan, for his goals. He murdered, he tortured, he compromised himself in every way possible to get back what was stolen. Killing the man responsible for the genocide of his people should have been easy. Pleasant, even. But he wasn't able to do it, in the end.

The familiar spark of self-loathing ignites in his gut and Kurapika sits up to open the drawer of his bedside table. He takes out his handgun, and the weight of the weapon in his hands calms him down. He slides his fingers over the cold metal, and imagines in detail what would happen if he pulled the trigger on himself, picturing in his mind what he would look like with his brains blown out. He tries to guess how long it would take for someone to find him, what the police would do with his corpse. Who they would call to identify the body. Familiar faces come to his mind, and he imagines Melody or Leorio at the morgue, and the horror on their faces when they pull off the sheet to reveal Kurapika’s patched-up face. Maybe they would call in Gon too. Sunny, loving Gon at the morgue. He drops the gun on the bed as if it just burned him. 

He needs a distraction, something to keep his thoughts from spiralling down. He needs people around him, to be surrounded by other human beings, so he can remember that the world goes on even though he himself has stopped, because it's easy to forget, alone in his shabby flat. 

There's a club he sometimes visits, to take the edge off himself. He likes the place, because it’s not too shady and the drinks are cheap, but usually good. Tonight is Friday, so it should be packed. Good. Kurapika puts on his black slacks and a simple light grey, tight-fitted sweatshirt. He’s not used to wearing anything other than his formal suits, but they won’t do if he wants to remain inconspicuous. After adjusting his contacts, he grabs his keys along with a handful of jenny bills before he leaves the flat. It doesn’t take long for him to reach the club, because it’s only a couple of streets away, just on the other side of the river that crosses Swardani city. He heads straight for the bar and gestures for the bartender to bring him something strong. Kurapika quickly downs the bitter content in his glass and immediately orders another one, and then another. 

He lets everything pass through him. The loud bass-heavy music. The smell of sweat and alcohol. The sensation of people brushing past him. All of this seems far away, as if there was a veil of fog between himself and the world around him. But it's still not enough. 

Distantly, he’s aware of the eyes on him, a couple of stools across from where he's sitting. He doesn't pay attention to it until the man gets up to settle on the stool next to him and starts to talk. He doesn't even register what he looks like or what he's saying but some part of him must, because the man keeps talking and even laughs at Kurapika's answers. It doesn't surprise him. He's always been good at pretending to be here when his mind is really far away.

"I want to show you something," the man says, and Kurapika nods numbly, letting the man take his hand and lead him to the back of the club, where a door leads to a backyard dimly lit by faded neon lights.

Kurapika's breath gets knocked out of his lungs when the man pushes him against a wall, and starts to kiss him roughly. 

Yes . This is exactly what he needs. 

Kurapika loses no time reciprocating, hands reaching up to bury his fingers into the man's short dark hair. Wait, short? When did Chrollo cut his hair? Kurapika opens his mouth to let the man devour him, but the taste is all wrong. Still, he holds his disgust back as he pushes his own tongue inside the man's mouth, and the hands that are gripping his hips tighten almost painfully. Electricity shoots through him as he's reminded of the last time Chrollo had to hold his hips to keep him steady while he rammed into him, and Kurapika lets out a low, needy moan, encircling the man's waist with his arms to press him closer against him. The man's lips move down to kiss and lick along his jawline and neck. Kurapika growls as he keeps getting plagued by images of Chrollo, but the sound seems to spur the man on, and Kurapika feels hands fumbling with the buttons of his slacks. 

A flash of movement, and their embrace gets cut short. It takes a few seconds for Kurapika’s brain to register what is happening. The man is lying on the ground, and in the process of getting strangled by a visibly pissed Chrollo. 

Shit.

Kurapika’s chains materialise without him having to even think about it, and he easily captures Chrollo in his Chain Jail. His eyes dart automatically to his watch. 23:56

"Let him go," Kurapika orders, ice in his voice.

Chrollo snarls, and his grip on the man’s neck seems to tighten, so Kurapika has to yank his chain back to physically remove Chrollo from his victim. Cursing, Kurapika drops to his knees next to the now unconscious man, and activates his Holy Chain to heal the nasty bruises that are starting to blossom on his neck. When it is done, he drags the man laboriously by his arms, and settles him next to the door, with his back to the wall. He looks like a regular moron who passed out drunk. It would have to do. 

Only then does he turn back to face Chrollo, still bound in his Chain Jail, who is fixing him with eyes burning with fury. Kurapika is careful to leave some distance between them.

"Why did you do that?" he hisses, trying to rein in the white-hot anger that’s been building up in his veins since Chrollo appeared. He's glad for the contacts he thought of wearing, because he knows his eyes must be glowing crimson.

Chrollo's hands twitch, but his gaze doesn't waver.

"You know why."

Kurapika bristles. "Are you stalking me?"

"Were you going to fuck him?" Chrollo fires back in a dark voice.

Kurapika hates it when Chrollo is so crass, and he can't help but take the opportunity to set him off even more.

"No," he starts and some of the tension seems to leave Chrollo’s body. "The other way around," Kurapika finishes, and he nearly takes a step back at the sudden flare of murderous aura radiating off Chrollo.

"That's not going to happen."

"Oh?" Kurapika sneers. He knows he's pushing his luck, but he's past caring by now. "Think you can stop me?"

The dangerous glint in Chrollo's eyes intensifies, but he says nothing as he pins Kurapika with his intense gaze, like he's trying to pierce into his soul. Kurapika’s skin crawls. Minutes pass and the alcohol is seriously starting to make him dizzy, so Kurapika closes his eyes and massages his temples to try and ease the throbbing in his head.

"Kurapika. Untie me."

Oh, that's right, Chrollo is still in Chain Jail. Kurapika deactivates it and Emperor Time at the same time, taking another glance at his watch. 00:08

A distant part of his brain does the math. He doesn’t really need to keep track of the time he’s got left now that he's already achieved his goals, but old habits die hard. 12 minutes. Barely a month, then. Not too bad.

He raises his gaze and panic seizes him when he notices that Chrollo has already closed the distance between them. He backs away until his back hits the wall, and Chrollo pushes against him until their bodies are flush against each other. 

"Get off me," he says, gritting his teeth.

His breath hitches as Chrollo brings his hand to his throat, and Kurapika is torn between fear and anticipation. He squeezes his eyes shut and waits for the choking pain of Chrollo's grip crushing his windpipe, but nothing happens for a while. 

Kurapika can hear Chrollo's short exhales, and he flinches when he suddenly feels fingers stroking his cheek, dangerously close to his eye. His eyes snap open in terror, and Chrollo immediately pulls back, anger gone from his eyes, and replaced by something almost reminding Kurapika of… sadness?

"Kurapika…" Chrollo starts, and he looks like he's going to say more, but he closes his mouth and seems to reach a decision. "Let me take you home."

Kurapika is too tired to argue, so he falls into step with him. 

These drinks must have been even stronger than he thought, because he keeps stumbling and holding onto Chrollo, who ends up snaking his arm around his waist to keep him steady. Kurapika realises than from an outside perspective, the gesture must look like a lover's embrace. He snorts aloud and Chrollo turns his head to give him a questioning look, but Kurapika looks away. The walk back to his flat seems to take ages, and Kurapika can hear himself mumbling things about Chrollo ruining his evening, but he’s too far gone to pay attention to what he’s telling him. Chrollo doesn’t say anything.

They finally reach his flat, and Kurapika immediately sprawls on his couch, leaving it to Chrollo to close the door behind them. 

His mind vaguely registers that he is currently alone with his archenemy, and that he should be kicking him out rather than relax. But he can't bring himself to care. He's not at the club anymore, but it feels like music is still pounding in his ears, and it's not like it's the first time that Chrollo shows up here, anyway. The last time, Chrollo took him on that very same couch, bent over the armrest. Just the memory sends a tingling fire to spread all over Kurapika's body. Better to get this over with. 

He looks back and realises that he’s alone in the living room. Groaning, Kurapika gets up and finds Chrollo in his bathroom, rummaging through the cabinets. 

"What are you doing?" he asks, wincing inwardly at how slurred his voice sounds. 

Chrollo turns to hand him a glass of water and some pills.

"Take these. For the headache."

Kurapika looks at him blankly.

"Are we fucking or what?"

A minute frown appears on Chrollo's brow.

"Take them," he says in a voice that leaves no room for argument.

Kurapika sighs, but grabs the glass and the small white pills and downs them in one swallow. He slams the glass back onto the cabinet and turns yet again to Chrollo, crossing his arms. 

"I took them," he points out, and Chrollo gives him an approving nod, but still doesn't make a move towards him. Kurapika taps his feet impatiently. "So? What are you waiting for?"

Some unfamiliar emotion flashes on Chrollo's face but Kurapika wasn't paying enough attention to identify what it was.

"Kurapika, I'm not going to sleep with you tonight," Chrollo eventually says. 

Kurapika scoffs. "Is it because of this guy? Another kid gets to play with your new toy and suddenly you don't want it anymore?"

Chrollo's face darkens.

"I don't think of you that way."

"Whatever," Kurapika huffs in disdain. "If you're not here to fuck, you can let yourself out."

He quickly removes his contacts, and turns back to leave the bathroom, but Chrollo takes hold of his arm. Kurapika jerks himself free, but Chrollo is now blocking his way out. 

"You're drunk," Chrollo says, stating the obvious for a reason Kurapika doesn't understand until he adds, "You're not thinking clearly. Sleeping with you when you're in that state would be taking advantage."

It almost sounds like he's trying to convince himself, and Kurapika can’t help the bitter laugh that escapes his throat.

"Ever the righteous man, Lucilfer," he spits, and shoves past him towards his bedroom. Chrollo follows behind him, but Kurapika pays him no mind as he sits down on his bed to take off his shoes and socks. 

"What is this?" Chrollo asks.

Kurapika takes a glance back towards where Chrollo is pointing on the bed.

"A gun," he says, and when he notices Chrollo's frown, he can't help it and adds, "It's a weapon people use to kill each other."

Chrollo narrows his eyes at him.

"I didn't know you were such a snappy little shit when you're drunk."

Kurapika doesn't answer and continues to undress by taking off his sweatshirt. 

"I was parked outside your building all evening, and I didn't see anyone coming in," Chrollo continues. "I know you weren't attacked, so what's a gun doing on your bed?"

Half a dozen different jabs about Chrollo's creepy stalking confession come to Kurapika's mind, but he's too weary to start a fight over this so he merely shrugs as he pulls down his slacks and picks them up, along with the rest of his clothes, to shove them in his closet. He snatches the handgun from Chrollo’s hands and puts in back in its drawer.

Kurapika is down to his boxers now, but his total lack of embarrassment at his almost naked state doesn't surprise him. It’s nothing Chrollo hasn't already seen, after all.

Still not making eye contact, he slides under his covers and shudders at the sensation of cold sheets against his skin. He closes his eyes, figuring that Chrollo will probably get bored and finally leave him alone. He starts to drift to sleep, but startles when he feels the other side of the bed dip as Chrollo joins him in bed. 

"I thought you didn't want to do it," he says, hesitantly. 

Chrollo gets closer and pulls Kurapika against him, chuckling right into his ear. "I wasn’t planning on taking advantage, but I guess I’m not as righteous as I thought I was," he purrs, nipping at Kurapika's earlobe and making him take a sharp intake of breath. "We're not having sex, but I'm still staying."

Kurapika hums in response. The secure weight of Chrollo's arms around him does away with all the tension and restlessness in his bones, and Kurapika feels something close to relief. His fuzzy mind refuses to acknowledge that he's leaning back into Chrollo's embrace as he falls asleep.

Kurapika wakes up to an empty bed. He knew Chrollo wasn’t going to stay, but some part of him still wishes he had. 

The side of the bed where Chrollo slept is still warm, and Kurapika shifts to inhale the clean and familiar scent lingering on his pillow. He lets himself drift off to sleep again, feeling content, and strangely at peace.

He’s jostled from his slumber by the blinding light coming from the now open shutters. He cracks an eye open and is met by the sight of Chrollo, standing next to his bed with a plate in his hand and a smirk on his face. Kurapika sits up on the bed and narrows his eyes at him.

"Why are you still here?" he rasps, voice still heavy with sleep.

By way of response, Chrollo motions for Kurapika to scoot over and sits on the bed next to him. He holds out the plate to Kurapika, who looks down at it suspiciously.

"What is this?" 

"Breakfast." Kurapika frowns at the plain yogurt and stale protein bar on the plate. "Granted, I wouldn’t call this breakfast," Chrollo comments with a sigh. "But I didn’t have much to work with, unfortunately. I couldn’t find any sugar, and the yogurt expired last week." He pauses, and his voice takes on a much more serious tone when he adds. "You really should take better care of yourself."

Kurapika doesn’t say anything as he takes the plate and starts to nibble at his breakfast. He keeps stealing glances at Chrollo, who looks perfectly at ease, as if bringing Kurapika breakfast in bed is something he’s been doing his whole life. When he’s finished, he hands the plate back to Chrollo, who sets it on his bedside table. 

"Thank you," Kurapika says, and Chrollo lifts an eyebrow as an amused expression crosses his face.

"I also made some tea, but it still needs to brew for a bit," he explains, and there's a curious edge to his voice, almost like he's testing Kurapika's reactions.

Kurapika nods, and he doesn’t understand why it doesn’t feel uncomfortable, to talk about trivial things with Chrollo Lucilfer in his bed.

"So," Chrollo starts. "Do you do that often?"

Kurapika frowns at him.

"Do what?"

"Hook-up with strangers in seedy bars to avoid thinking about me."

Kurapika opens his mouth in outrage, but Chrollo cuts him off.

"You’re a chatty drunk, bad luck for you."

Kurapika sighs. It would have been useless to deny it anyway, because Chrollo always seems to see right through him. He slides back under the covers wordlessly, and Chrollo immediately follows, pulling Kurapika back against his chest and leaving his arms wrapped around his waist. Kurapika barely manages to hold back a contented sigh when Chrollo's fingers start to run lightly over his stomach. 

"You didn’t answer my question," Chrollo points out.

"Oh please," Kurapika snorts. "I'm sure you've had your share of one-night stands yourself."

"I haven’t," Chrollo says, and Kurapika can hear the surprise in his voice. "Besides," he continues, pressing kisses to Kurapika’s naked shoulder, "Even if I wanted to, it wouldn’t even compare."

Kurapika doesn’t know what to answer to that, so he remains silent.

"What about you?" Chrollo insists, sliding his hands over Kurapika's ribs.

Kurapika sighs. It’s stupid that he should feel guilty about this since they’re not even together, but the answer still doesn’t come easily. 

"Only once," he relents, and something painful stirs in his chest when he feels Chrollo’s hand freeze and his body tense. "But... you’re right," Kurapika continues, despite himself. "It didn’t compare." He closes his eyes and winces at the memory of sloppy kisses tasting like cigarettes and of his head banging painfully against a car door while he waits for the other man to finish his business. "Not at all," he adds in a small voice, and he hates the relief he feels when Chrollo gently turns Kurapika to face him, holding him close and gently kissing the crown of his head.  

Kurapika buries his face in Chrollo's chest, and suddenly, he can breathe again. He finds himself wishing for things to be different, and to forget, just for a few seconds, just who he’s being held by. 

"We can't stay like this," Chrollo whispers softly, as if to echo Kurapika's thoughts.

"It's my day-off."

"No. I meant..." Chrollo seems to hesitate. "We can't keep pretending that we can stay away from each other."

Kurapika stiffens. "I can."

"Is that so?" Chrollo snickers, stroking Kurapika’s hair. "You don't seem to be in a hurry to kick me out."

"Leave," Kurapika tries to order, but his voice sounds weak even to his ears.

"Too late," Chrollo retorts, pulling back slightly to tilt Kurapika’s face up to his. "Kurapika. I’m being serious."

Kurapika swallows. He would rather die than admit he needs anything from this man, so he quickly looks away from him. 

"This has to be enough. There is no other way."

"There is," Chrollo states. A pause. "We could try and live together." Kurapika tenses. "I have a house in Meteor City," Chrollo continues. "You could always stay there. With me."

The silence stretches and Kurapika doesn't say anything, because he knows they’re treading on dangerous ground. He can feel that this is a turning point in their perverted, twisted relationship, but he's paralysed with fear of the consequences of either answer.

Eventually, Chrollo sighs and tucks Kurapika's head back under his chin. "Just… just think about it, okay?" 

Could Kurapika really stoop so low as to move in with Chrollo? Well, it's not like he hasn't done worse with him. But putting to rest the constant ache to be with him, not having to worry about what he’s doing, waking up every morning next to him... It would be wrong. It would be so good.

And it wouldn't be for too long, anyway. Four years at best, according to Kurapika’s calculations. Not that Chrollo is aware of that, of course...

A small smile tugs at Kurapika's lips as he looks up to meet his enemy’s eager gaze.

"Okay."