Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Through the dense trees at the base of Kukuroo Mountain, a child played with his butler. A child with bright white hair and eyes as blue as the sea. His laughter carried for what seemed to be miles and his butler laughed right along with him.

The boy stretched out his arms as he ran towards them, giggling and smiling wide enough it was sickening. “Do it, Mica! Do it!” he demanded. The butler chuckled softly under their breath. Butlers of the mansion were prohibited from conjuring up their abilities unless in cases of immediate danger to themselves or one of their masters. However, as this boy of just three years was still considered Mica’s master they had no choice but to follow his orders.

Mica, already kneeing in the wet moss, extended their hand to the little master. The boy gasped their long fingers, calloused from constant labor, in his soft chubby fists. He pulled their hand closer to him, resting his chin on their fingertips. From Mica’s palm bloomed small petals of silver-purple light. That light grew and flowered into butterflies which fluttered around the boy’s white locks.

The young master sang with laughter, chasing those butterflies round and round as Mica watched him, a laugh on their lips and a smile in their eyes.

Anyone looking in on the scene would have thought everything was right with the world. They would have seen a laughing child playing with a person he considered to be as good as a parent. They would have seen joy and love. They would not have seen a second boy with pitch black hair hiding in the shadows behind a weeping willow. They would not have seen envy and jealousy in the big black eyes of that boy. For that was the butler who raised him. That was the butler who taught him how to walk and how to write and read. The butler who he had ran to after a beating from his parents. The butler who was the only person he truly spoke to. The butler who now spent all their time with his little brother, not sparing him even a single glance.

He glared at his little brother from a distance playing with the Nen Butterflies that could have killed him so easily. He should have smothered him in his crib when he still had a chance.

The black haired boy forced himself to walk away from the scene, for no other reason than to restrain his bloodlust. Even at the tender age of twelve it was overwhelming when his butler was with the only person who cared for him and the only person he cared for.

Down the volcano, on the outskirts of the city where the wall that surrounded the mansion was only a few yards away was a small yet extravagant garden that the black-haired boy considered his very own getaway. It was made to be secluded; trees on all sides grasses that were taller than two grown men. Wisteria flowers hung from the sky, bushes of sweet smelling flowers winding through a cobblestone path, ivy crept around the four legs of a dark wood bench that the boy sat on staring into the distance.

There was sorrow in the boy’s heart, yet nothing could be seen on his face. He had long since mastered a stoic face, emotionless and motionless alike. With large eyes and small mouth he was clearly made to look, not talk, his parents had taught him that much. He never showed how he felt as he knew that could only be used against him. The tears in his eyes he would never shed, the love he would never say, hate and bloodlust would be the only things he could ever express. He had accepted that a long time ago and he thought it would never change.

But sitting on that bench under the wisteria would be the day that thought did change.

***

The young master sat on the dark bench, staring off into the distance thinking of everything and nothing all at once. He didn’t hear the shouting drifting through the plants from the other side of the garden or the shrill maniacal laughter of a boy his age. But he did notice when that laughter stopped and a whirl or bright pinks and purples went tumbling through the garden, shattering its careful peace.

The boy looked at this odd new arrival with annoyance. Couldn’t he go anywhere for some peace and quiet?

Even after rocketing through the dense plants, most of them with considerable sharp thorns, that boy popped back up like it was nothing. Wavy pink hair bobbing up and down, a candy stuck between his teeth and one in each hand. When he looked at the young master, finally realizing he wasn’t alone he smiled with eyes that shone almost gold. The young master stared at him, waiting for him to say something. The new boy swallowed the sweet in one bite and smiled widely, licking his lips.

“The people of your town sure do make good sweets!” His voice was more cheerful than the young master thought anyone was capable of.

“Did you pay for those?” asked the young master. The boy only laughed and took a big bite out of the sweet in his left hand. Powdered sugar coated his thin lips.

“Why do you think that fat man was chasing me?”

“Mn,” the young master had no idea there had been a fat man chasing this boy, however, he wouldn’t admit that. He already knew it was probably the baker or his son from whom this boy had stolen.

“He can’t run very fast,” the boy giggled, kicking his feet, “And no one tried to stop me!” As this cheerful boy continued to munch on his sweet the young master observed him, studying him from head to toe. He wasn’t very tall nor very healthy. His torn, dirty, ragged clothes hung off his bony fraim. It was more than clear that this boy had not been taken care of his whole life. Yet he was still as cheerful as could be. “Your hair’s really dark, your eyes too. Do you get that from your parents? You live here right? In this town?” he spoke at a mile a minute, never stopping even to take a breath. “What’s your name? I bet it’s something fancy. Mine’s Hisoka. Hisoka Morrow.”

The young master hesitated. His name was well known, he had been ordered not to tell it to anyone unless they were his target. But here this boy sat beside him who he had known less than ten minutes, and who he already trusted more than every member of his family. “Illumi Zoldyck.”

“Ha!” Hisoka barked a laugh, “Called it didn’t I? What a fucking name.”

“Mm,” Illumi had never heard someone so young talk with such language. It startled him.

“You don’t say much do you?”

Illumi shook his head. He had been taught not to.

“Hmp,” he huffed, obviously judgmental. Illumi could see him watching him out of the corner of his eye.

It was another thirty minutes before either of them spoke. An awkward and anxious silence filled by the tapping of Hisoka’s foot on the ground and his fingers on his knee. Illumi could see there was something wrong with him yet he had no idea what it was and the last thing he wanted to do was ask. So he sat, starting off into space, waiting for Hisoka to say something. And eventually, he did.

“Why are you hiding in here?” his voice had calmed down, there was none of the excitement that had saturated it earlier. He talked like he was older than he was.

Illumi’s gaze flicked to him, just for a second. Should he tell the truth? Or should he make up some bullshit to avoid further questions.

“My brother.”

“Older?”

“Younger.”

“Mm,” Hisoka sighed. While he hadn’t grown up with siblings he knew exactly how it felt to be second best all his life. He knew it hurt and there was nothing you could do to change it. “Let me guess, he’s your parents' favorite?” Illumi let his gaze drift away from the other boy.

“Yes.” He said no more. Illumi didn’t want to express all the feelings he had deep in his walled off heart. Besides, his parents, the butler who raised him, what with his young brother’s age and his own, wasn’t it perfectly normal the way they treated him? Wasn’t it perfectly normal to be left behind?

Silence fell between the two again. It was getting dark however, and Illumi had to be getting back home no matter how badly he wanted to stay away. He didn’t know where Hisoka would go and he desperately didn’t want to care. He wanted to never have to see this boy again; this boy that made him spill his heart without thinking. And yet something in him simply wouldn’t allow it.

“Where are you staying tonight?”

Hisoka looked at him, wondering what he could possibly be planning. He shrugged and looked away. “Here I suppose,” he didn’t seem to be too concerned about it. Almost as if he was used to this; moving around from place to place with no place to stay. Illumi’s eyes traveled over the boy, his ragged, torn clothes, his unkempt hair, the dirt on his bare feet.

Illumi wanted to ask if he had run away, yet he didn’t. He kept his mouth shut and pretended he didn’t care about what the other boy was running from. Over his years he had grown used to pretending. Pretending he didn’t despise Killua. Pretending the way his parents treated him didn’t hurt. Pretending he was okay with being sent away on missions and ignored at home. Pretending he was okay with killing for his family. He was good at it too. But, for whatever reason, he didn’t want to have to pretend with this boy he had just met.

So he asked: “Did you run away?”

Hisoka paused, his whole body tensing up. “Why do you want to know?” he asked, his voice both weary and skeptical. It had been too long since he had someone to trust. And too short a time since the last person had betrayed and hurt him. He couldn’t understand--he wouldn’t let himself understand--why this boy he had just met would want to know that.

Illumi shrugged and looked down. He knew that tone well enough to know when to leave the conversation in the past. “Would you want to stay at my place for the night?” he had to ask, he wanted to get to know this boy. For once he felt like he could talk to someone. Hisoka looked at him for a long time. Examining him. Searching him. Looking for any sign that he would be deceiving him. When he found nothing that only made him more suspicious.

“Sure…”

He was cautious, but Hisoka followed Illumi up the mountain, trailing no more than a foot or two behind him.

Chapter Text

That first night they spent together was the start of a friendship both of them desperately needed. It was awkward at first, Illumi explaining how Hisoka could, under no conditions, leave his bedroom lest his parents find him and either have him killed or, worse, tortured; Hisoka asking him to leave the light on yet not explaining why. But they fell into it fast. Illumi let Hisoka have the bed as it had clearly been so long since he slept comfortably and Hisoka expressed his gratitude in bright laughs and jokes that Illumi had never experienced the joy of before.

Their time together passed too quickly.

Hisoka stayed long enough to gain back at least the majority of his health, but he had places to be and it was getting harder for Illumi to steal food for him without his parents noticing. No matter how many times Illumi asked, Hisoka would never tell him where he was heading off to. Always dismissing it with a wave of his hand or a joke. But they both could agree the time of Hisoka’s departure came too soon.

That day was a warm one, white fluffy clouds scattered in the pure blue sky, townsfolk wandering the streets, chattering and laughing, simply happy to be there. The mood was much different in that little, secluded garden. Goodbyes had always been hard for Illumi, that was why he clung so strongly to Mica. Now, Hisoka had replaced the butler who no longer spared him a glance as his only friend, and he was leaving too. The boy could feel tears behind his eyes, an ache in his heart but he let show none of it, tucking it all away in the part of his heart he never let anyone near.

Hisoka was in a similar situation. While he was much better at saying his goodbyes, he had been saying them his whole life, he didn’t want to leave the comfort--the safely of Illumi’s home. But he knew he had to. Before he ruined everything. Before the curse of his life impacted yet another person.

He stared at the flower bushes in front of him, thinking of all that he would miss. The comfort, the safety, the warmth, the food that wasn’t stale or moldy, an actual bed to sleep in…the only person who ever let him speak his mind.

“Where are you going?” asked Illumi, for the hundredth time.

Hisoka shrugged as he always did. “Wherever my heart tells me to,” he kicked his feet. “Probably somewhere I can work for money.”

“Mn,” Illumi knew he would never need to work and additional hours for money, he made enough on missions as it was even without his parent’s aid, still the idea of it intrigued him. “Will you come back?” he didn’t think about asking as he knew if he did he would overthink it.

Hisoka hesitated. He did want to come back, wanted to see Illumi again, taste those wonderful sweets he had stolen again. But there was a part of him that knew he shouldn’t. That knew if he spent enough time with this black-haired, big-eyed boy he would only pull him down along with him. But… “Would you want me to?”

Yes. Illumi thought. “If you want,” he shrugged, feigning indifference.

Hisoka saw right through him. He smiled to himself. Even if he knew he shouldn’t, he was glad to hear it. “I’ll come back here, to this spot, on this day, every six months.”

The young master looked down, forcing his face into compliance; forcing himself not to smile. He nodded. He could do that. He would do that. To see him, to talk to him again, even if it only happened once.

***

The first six months passed slowly. Incredibly, torturously slowly. Illumi counted down the days, checking over and over again to make sure he wouldn't miss it.

The night before he was set to see that boy in the garden he couldn’t sleep. Tossing and turning in his bed, nerves winding a tight knot in his stomach. He couldn’t help thinking that Hisoka wouldn’t be there, that he would wait among the bushes and trees coated in snow all day only to be visited by mice and ground squirrels.

He snuck down the mountain before dawn, too eager and nervous to wait any longer. He was expecting that, if Hisoka did come, he would have to wait hours for him. But when he stepped into that garden he was welcomed by a flowery scent that belonged nowhere in that snowy landscape and all the anxiety in his heart melted away.

“Good morning!” Hisoka grinned at him. He had grown taller, his hair longer but he was still the same boy Illumi knew from his dreams more than his reality.

“Hi,” his voice was shaking, his hands too. He shouldn't be this excited to see him again should he?

“Are you growing out your hair?” Hisoka jumped into conversation like they had never left each other. It was comforting, in a way.

“No…” Illumi couldn’t think of what to say. The question was so sudden. “Just need a haircut,” he muttered under his breath, a hand twirling the hair that curled up at the back of his neck. He has always been self conscious of his hair, dark like his mothers and siblings, in stark contrast to his father’s and Killua’s. He didn’t want anything to connect him to his father, but his mother and the siblings that ignored him were no better.

“Mm,” Hisoka hummed. “Too bad. Long hair’d look good on you.”

“It would?” Illumi had never considered it.

“Mhm!” He nodded, making Illumi smile very slightly to himself.

***

Years came and went. And neither of them ever missed that day every six months. Every time they counted down the days, the minutes until they saw each other again. It was getting harder for Hisoka to stay away. He knew he had to. He knew if he got any closer to Illumi he would only end up hurting him. But it was so hard to do; he wanted nothing more than to be with Illumi 24/7 like he had been the weeks after they first met. But that had been when they were kids. When they were--supposed to be--innocent to the word, however he suspected Illumi was no less stranger to the cruelties of the world that he was. To the pain others caused and what that could do to a person. Maybe Illumi didn’t know it as well as he did, yet he was sure he knew it to some extent.

On one such day, the second in the year Hisoka turned sixteen, he could resist his urges to stay no longer.

The day was coming to an end, a low cloud of frost blanketing the garden and a chill was setting in. They had talked all day, going to the bakery Hisoka loved for lunch. It was the first time they had left that little garden and he was surprised by how many people knew, and almost seemed to fear, Illumi. That gentle boy with large eyes and long, silky black hair that always acted so scared to touch him. Hisoka had planned this moment out weeks before, yet his heart pounded at the thought of asking. He had been procrastinating all day, but the day was coming to an end.

“Illumi?” he asked, fiddling with his hands in his lap.

“Mn?” His gaze was fixed on the last sprigs of green grass that the frost that night would turn yellow and dead.

“Would you mind…” he hesitated. “If I stayed at your place tonight--I don’t think I can catch a ride in this weather,” Hisoka tried to laugh it off, dismissing his request as if Illumi’s assent would mean nothing to him.

“Okay,” Illumi stood and Hisoka’s heart lurched. “You’ll have to go through the window though. My parents can’t know you’re there.”

Chapter Text

Hisoka climbed the tree quickly and slipped into Illumi’s bedroom to wait for him. Hisoka liked his room, how closed off it was, how minimalistic. He liked the weapons that lined the south wall and the plants scattered around like they had no place, yet when Hisoka moved one Illumi moved it right back. The only thing he didn’t like was how dark it was, the walls a dark blue, the floor dark wood, even the ceiling completely black, his only comfort was in the setting sun pouring in through the west facing window. He sat on Illumi’s bed with its dark velvet blankets and silky soft sheets in a sunbeam and let himself curl up. He pulled his knees to his chest and wound his arms around them. He was safe here, he reminded himself. He was safe as long as Illumi’s family didn’t find him and he had always been good at hiding. There was nothing waiting in the dark for him here. Nothing that could hurt him. And plenty of things he could use to hurt someone in turn. The plants with their heavy pots, the hardcover books, the knives and crossbows and spears on the wall and the skills he had picked up over the years, the power in his hands, the nen ready and waiting every time he needed it.

He would never be that vulnerable again.

He would never let that happen to him again.

Never.

Hisoka filched as Illumi opened the bedroom door and quickly slipped inside, turning on the light as he went. There was relief in Hisoka’s heart at that, the last bits of darkness driven away.

The young master didn’t know what to say as he walked to take a seat next to Hisoka on the bed. His gaze trailed over him as he went; he could remember the last time he had seen the boy in that same position, hunched over, arms wrapped around his knees as if he couldn’t get small enough. He wasn’t sure exactly why the boy did this but it seemed to have something to do with the dark. And Illumi couldn’t deny he was curious and tempted to ask but more than that he was scared that if he did it would be the end of their friendship. So he kept his mouth shut, simply taking a place at the head of the bed and taking a pillow onto his lap.

“So…where are you going after you leave here?” It was the only thing Illumi could think to ask to break the uncomfortable silence.

Hisoka looked at him. “I’m going to head to Heavens Arena I think. I could use the training…and the money.”

Illumi only nodded. He had heard of Heavens Arena and always thought a trip through its floors would be fun but his parents gave him strict orders not to show the full extent of his abilities to anyone outside the family.

“How far do you think you’ll get?”

Hisoka forced a smile. “To the top!” he didn’t really think he’d get that far. Not yet. He wasn’t good enough yet. But he would be. Eventually. Until then Heavens Arena would provide a good source of practice and, if he was lucky, he would get beaten enough, bleed enough to satisfy his need for pain. To satisfy that terrible little voice that told him he deserved it--that it was all he would ever be worth. At least for a while.

“Mm,” Illumi didn’t believe that either and to Hisoka that was obvious. But he didn’t care. If he wasn’t even confident in himself how could he expect Illumi to be?

That evening passed with comfortable conversation and a room full of light. Hisoka had forgotten how much he loved it there; how much he loved time with Illumi. How safe he felt there. And as he lounged on Illumi’s bed in the comforting room and the comforting light that drove away all the darkness outside the window he wished he would never have to leave. Never have to spend another night in a hotel room that smelled of feet and cum. Never have to sleep in the dirt under a tree…Never have to spend a night alone again, without that dark haired boy at his side. That boy that made him actually feel something again. Even just for one day every six months. But he didn’t know how much more of this he could take. He didn’t know how much longer he could go without that. But he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to taint Illumi’s pretty soul with his own filth. He didn’t want to ruin Illumi’s chance of finding someone with a healthy, whole family, with a happy, perfect childhood. Someone clean. Someone that he deserved. Because he deserved so much more than his fucked up self. And as he gazed at Illumi across the room through his long lashes so he knew he wouldn’t be noticed he wished with everything he had that he was better, that he could be a person worthy of being with Illumi--worthy of being loved.

He breathed out heavily, leaning his head back. “Fuck…” what was he thinking? He could never--never--let himself be with anyone, let alone Illumi.

“Hisoka,” Illumi turned to him, pulling his attention away from the blade he was sharpening.

“Mm?”

“It's getting late. Would you like me to take the floor or share the bed?”

Hisoka felt like he had dropped ten feet in a second. His eyes snapped open. “Huh–?” he cleared his throat, quickly resetting the mask that had fallen away. “Whatever,” he faked a shrug. “I don't mind.” He did in fact mind. He would have loved to spend the night in bed with Illumi. Even if he was just sleeping next to him.

He glanced at Illumi, expecting to see him doing any one of the many little chores he did around the room to keep himself busy. But when his eyes found him they widened and froze on Illumi’s bare back as he changed. He looked away quickly, turning his head to stare at the wall instead, yet that didn’t change what he saw. The pale skin, the shapely planes of his muscles…the scars that striped across his skin a shade lighter than the rest. Hisoka knew what those scars were from. He saw them everyday in the mirror and felt the burn and sting of the whip that had caused them in his dreams every night, the blood that had run in streams down his legs, the feel of flesh tearing, a knife slipping across his skin, fists and feet breaking his bones. He could remember every second of it. And he wondered if Illumi could too. But he wouldn’t ask. He knew he couldn’t--he had already pushed his limits by staying the night. But he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering, how had he gotten them? How old were they?

“Then I’ll take the bed with you if that’s all right.”

Finally, feeling the bed sink with Illumi’s weight, Hisoka allowed himself to look away from the wall. Illumi looked at him, those big black eyes wide and beautiful as always, asking silently for permission. Hisoka nodded, painting a smile across his face to hide the images flashing through his mind. He wanted this. He wanted Illumi next to him, close to him, there with him. But he couldn’t stop thinking about the whip on Illumi’s beautiful smooth skin. About who had done that to him. About doing the same to them, making them feel that pain and worse.

But as Illumi crawled under the covers and turned off the overhead light his attention shifted. In the semi darkness everything about Illumi softened. His already soft skin and hair, the curves of his body under the thick blanket. He had thought of this moment so many times in the past years, with far more light and far less clothes and here he was. Living out what he had dreamed of.

“Are you going to bed or what?” Illumi complained over his shoulder. Hisoka laughed softly and slid into the covers next to him, back to back. Illumi was cute when he complained. “Is the light okay?” he muttered after a minute.

Hisoka smiled; no one had ever made him feel like he mattered besides Illumi. “Yes.”

It wasn’t.

But he wouldn’t say that. Illumi already went to so many lengths just for him. He wasn’t going to burden him further.

Chapter Text

He was too young to remember the first time he was locked away. Too young to remember what he had done to deserve it. But he was sure he had done something to deserve it. He always did.

He remembered the second time. And the third. And every time after that.

Sometimes he could pinpoint what he had done to deserve it. Most times he couldn’t. But that didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if he had hit one of his castmates or held his fork wrong at dinner, the punishment was all the same. The master would come. He would grab him by the arm and drag him through the dirt. Hisoka would kick and scream until the whole circus heard him. The first few times he begged for someone to help him, for his mother, for his sisters and brothers. But no one came. No one ever came. And eventually, he stopped calling for them, and instead just screamed. Screamed to be heard, to be noticed, for the control of the pain that ripped up his throat when he did. But there was no control in the pain in his arm from the master’s rings digging into his flesh, of being dragged through the tents and thrown into darkness to crash down the stairs to whatever cellar they had made up where they set up camp and stay there for what he could only assume to be days.

Sometimes breaking bones on his way down.

There was no light, there was no food in that cellar. Only him and two buckets, one for water and one for piss and shit and vomit that he prayed he never got mixed up. And the dirt turned to mud with his own blood and pus. For whatever wounds he had previously had and those he got from his flight down the stairs would get infected and ooze pus for days after he was free, only made worse by the nights he was dragged out of his bed. But there was nothing more he could do than sit in that darkness and take his punishment.

And he never complained about it. It was torture, yes. But it was better than what was waiting for him on the other side of that trap door. In this darkness it was only him and silence and the pain of his wounds slowly, so slowly healing. In the darkness outside of the cellar, they waited for him, dragged him from his bed, from the dinner table, from the tent after his act, from every corner at every hour of the day and night. So he would take this darkness, as much as it hurt him, as much as it scared him over that.

As he sat in that darkness he thought as much. He rested his head in his hands, wreaking of the decaying blood that caked the ground. This time he had taken this punishment intentionally, disobeying a direct order from the master and putting the whole production on hold for more than an hour while he took his cruel punishment. He had never grown used to that kind of punishment. He could take the beatings and the lashings and the hangings, held upside down by his feet for hours, but that he never did get used to it. He could go somewhere else while it happened to his body, let his mind drift over mountains and through clouds and lakes and oceans but when he returned there it was again, in memories he had not been present for the making of. It was always there following him, lurking in the dark just out of his sight. Waiting. Waiting for the moment Hisoka knew his mother was looking just so he could watch as she did nothing while he was dragged away.

The cellars were the places he hated most in the whole world. Yet they were also the safest. And to him, that was all that mattered.

He didn’t know how long he had been down there. His body, his very bones aching from the tight confined space. His lungs desperate for air that wasn’t tainted with rot and decay. But his mind was glad for it. At least he knew he was safe from them. And when the light came pouring in through the opening door it felt like his whole body was dropping a hundred feet into cold icy depths that had no end.

“Boy!” the master called. That was all he was ever called. Boy this, Boy that. Boy, clean your plate. Boy, get on stage. Boy, come here. Boy, get on your knees. Boy, open your mouth. Boy, drop your pants. His mother had called him his name only once and that was the only reason he knew it. And even then it had been an ugly name to his ears. “Get up here!” There was a moment where Hisoka contemplated not going, disobeying orders once again to stay in the cellar. But then he thought of his plans. Of running during the night so far they could never find him again and if that didn’t work…there were always knives sharp enough to slit his throat and wrists, ropes to wrap around his neck, water the sink beneath and never come up, hights to fall from that would break his body so bad they could no longer use even his corpse. So he stood and ascended the steps he had been thrown down so many times with the intention to run or to die.

Or maybe just to die.

At the top of the stairs Hisoka didn’t dare raise his gaze from the ground.

“You never do learn, do you Boy,” the master grabbed him by the back of the neck and forced him forward. Hisoka tripped over his feet as he went but the master held him upright, his rings digging into his spine. It hurt, yet Hisoka didn’t dare make a sound, he never did when they hurt him, it would only make it more rewarding for them. “You’re gonna be in the show today Boy, and you’re gonna be on your best behavior.

So that was why he was out, he thought. He would have to perform, and while he hated it, it was his only way out. He could hide away or steal a way to get far from the circus and the caravan. So he went with him willingly, hoping with all he had that this would be the last time he ever felt the master's hands on him again.

The master led him to the main tent, pushing him by the neck the whole way. Like he was a prisoner rather than…whatever he was to this caravan. And maybe he really was a prisoner but he was still human and they treated him like an animal--worse. As he passed through the many tents his castmates resided in he could tell it was a big crowd. There was a buzz in the air, a sense of excitement that drifted through the caravan like a fog. And the sounds booming from the tent only furthered that.

What he would be made to do Hisoka didn’t know. It varied from performance to performance. Sometimes he held the flaming ring for the beast to jump through. Sometimes he was tied to a spinning wheel one of his blindfolded castmates threw knives at, sometimes with an apple on his head with arrows replacing the knives. Whatever the act was, it was dangerous--life threatening. For he was the disposable one, the one used only for his body and unloved even by his mother. But something was different this time and he could tell as soon as he walked onto the stage beside the master.

He heard the roars of the crowd and the master's voice shouting back at them, felt their eyes on him but his gaze was focused on the center of the stage and the words muffled around him. There stood a platform and stand he had never seen before and made entirely of glass. He knew by the way the master shoved him towards it that he was meant to stand behind it. And when he did it felt like he was on display. But it was only when the master came up behind him and bent him over that platform that he realized it.

He was not meant to perform that day.

He was the act.

He could feel his heart begin to race in his chest, sending fear coursing through his body. He looked to his mother standing off to the side, out of sight of the crowd. And he begged her silently to help him, for anyone in the crowd to help him.

But no one did.

And as his consciousness left his body he realized that it truly was a crowd of hundreds. Just what the master had always wanted. And there was no other way to draw such a crowd than to fuck a child in front of them.

***

When his mind finally did return to his body he was being dragged back to the cellar. Dragged not because he was resisting and screaming as usual but because his legs could no longer hold his weight. But he was going back to the darkness of the cellar where he was safe. Safe. Safe from the crowd and the master and everyone else. He almost didn’t notice when the master threw him down the stairs, but on the third time he hit them he heard rather than felt the bone in his arm snap in half, felt the blood that dripped down his fingers from the bone protruding from his flesh. However he didn’t have the energy to scream. He only looked at it in the last sliver of light from the closing trap door and wondered if he jammed it into his throat hard enough if it would be enough to kill him.

But as he stared there was a noise from the other side of the cellar. He froze. No one had ever been in that cellar with him. Not ever. And he was terrified of who it was.

As they crept closer to him he was sure that the sound of their footsteps was the same that entered his tent at night. And he remembered what happened next, but the voice that echoed around the cellar wasn’t what he expected but Illumi calling his name. Pulling him out of his past.

***

Illumi shook him awake, calling his name again and again. And when he finally did wake he had to stifle a scream. He was free. He was strong. He was with Illumi. He was safe. But Illumi was holding him down and instinct took over. In a movement too quick for Illumi to counter with his guard down, Hisoka shot out a fist to make contact right between Illumi’s legs, his body expecting to hit the terrifying erections that were all he had known his whole life. But he didn’t. And Illumi doubled over, shrinking away from him as Hisoka fled across the room in the blink of an eye. He backed himself into the corner closest to the lamp Illumi had left on for him. In the light he was safe. In the light they wouldn’t touch him. In the light the master had raped him in front of a crowd of a hundred people. In the light he had thrust into him again and again. And again and again he pounded his fists into his head. Pain. He needed pain. Any kind that he could get to remind himself that he was real. That he was there with Illumi so very far from the caravan. That they hadn’t had their hands on him for years and years and years. And that they never would again.

On the other side of the room Illumi had already gotten to his feet, ignoring the pain between his legs as Hisoka’s condition took full control of his mind. He didn’t know what he had seen in his sleep. Only that he had been woken by Hisoka thrashing and whimpering and kicking. Only that it had been bad. Worse than the nightmares that plagued him of his mother and father.

“Hisoka?” Illumi asked gently, taking a single step towards him. He wanted to know what was wrong. What he had seen in his sleep that had affected him so badly. But he didn’t know how to ask. He wanted to help. But he didn’t know what to do. And he didn’t want to push him.

So he sat on the end of his bed and watched, ready to step in if Hisoka hurt himself too badly. *** Hisoka left without a word as soon as the sun rose.

Chapter Text

The next day Hisoka was set to see Illumi, he didn't show. And Hisoka waited all day for him. Deep down in his heart he had feared this would happen since day one. However, up until then, he could always push those thoughts away, saying to himself Illumi would never do that to him. But here it was. Happening in real time as he watched the sun set through the trees.

As six slow months passed, that day never left Hisoka’s mind. Maybe Illumi had just been busy and forgot to tell him he wouldn’t be able to make it. Maybe something had happened to him. But in his heart he knew. Illumi had seen too much of what he was. And now he had left, just like he knew he would.

Yet he returned to that garden all the same. And he waited. The garden had changed so much since the first time he had broken through those bushes. He had been barely eight then and on the run for a year. He and Illumi were seventeen and eighteen that year. He had wanted to celebrate with him that day. But as the sun lowered in the sky and snow began to fall he realized that he had missed his chance. That the careful friendship he had with Illumi was over now and that he would most likely never see him again.

He would try again in the spring. One more time. One more chance for Illumi to meet him in the garden. Then he would leave. And never come back to that place he loved so much.

Chapter Text

Illumi couldn’t remember the date. But he knew he had been there too long. He had spent too many days there. Two many months. He had let himself stay there too long. How many days with Hisoka had he missed? Surly not more than one. But with the beatings to unconsciousness and concussions he couldn’t be sure.

So much had happened the last time he had seen Hisoka. Joy from when he asked to stay the night. Pain and panic and worry when he woke to see him writhing and begging and crying in his sleep. He hadn’t known what to do and he knew he deserved that punch to the balls. He had deserved these past months of pure, unrelenting pain. But Hisoka didn’t. And he couldn’t miss another day with him.

He knew exactly how he would get out. He had done it before. To get out of the chains that held him suspended he would snap his left wrist, slipping it out of the cuff and freeing his right. Dropping to the floor was the hard part. Not only were his legs damaged, his right ankle broken, his left knee popped out of place, but he had to do it without his family hearing. After he would run across the house to his bedroom, masking his nen and silencing his steps, grab his clothes, find out the date and flee out the window. Once he was outside he was free, he knew every hiding place and trap on the estate, had memorized countless ways out that were left unguarded as no one else knew about them.

It was dark out and Illumi had no idea if it was morning or night. If it was morning there would be no problem, he would only wait until Hisoka met him in the garden. If it was night….then he had missed him. And he had no idea if he would be coming back. He had to come back. He had too. Right? Illumi had no one else. No one. And if he lost Hisoka…he didn’t know what he would do. So he ran as fast as he could to that garden, hoping and hoping it would be enough.

His legs begged him to stop, screaming out in pain. But it was nothing compared to what he had endured in that room. Nothing compared to the idea of losing Hisoka.

But, for all his hoping, when he got to the garden no one was there. And the moon was just beginning to rise.

Illumi had missed him.

Panic grew in his chest like a wildfire. He had missed him. He had missed him. He had missed him and he had no idea if he would ever see him again. He had to see him.

He had to find him.

He would find him. This was what he had been trained for all his life. This was what he was good at. So he let his panic condense, sharpen, into three needles he stuck into his legs to keep them from giving out. He let his senses focus, searching his surroundings for any sign of him.

There. Footprints, imprinted in the quickly accumulating snowfall, a small small change but noticeable to his well trained eyes. He didn’t hesitate to follow them. Running and running right alongside those footprints that slowly grew more clear. He didn’t watch where he was going. He didn't care. As long as Hisoka was there, where those footprints stopped. As long as he could tell him all the things he wanted to. All the things that had kept himself from saying last time. He needed him. He needed Hisoka. He wanted to be there for him. See him more than twice a year. He needed to get to him.

Illumi was running down a road, the wind catching his hair, the snow slicing across his cheeks. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his panic building up again the longer he tracked those footprints. But they were getting clearer now, more recent and he had to keep going. He could feel thick hot blood running down his leg, his back but he didn’t care, he had to get to him.

And when he looked up, through the snow he searched his surroundings for him. The tall trees outlined but clouds. The snow obscuring the road in front of him—

There.

Just inside his range of sight there was someone. Someone walking away from him, his bright pink hair the only thing distinctive about him. But it was enough. Illumi would recognize it anywhere. He had stared at it so many times wondering if it was natural, combed his fingers through it just last time he had seen him in the safety of silent darkness.

“Hisoka!” He called, putting all his remaining strength into running faster, faster, faster. But the wind was howling and the snow muffled his voice. And the boy who has grown into a man did not look back. “Hisoka!!” Again. And nothing. He had to get him to look at him. He had to make sure he was okay. “Hisoka!” Finally he was close enough to be heard.

Hisoka stopped in his tracks, frozen as if Illumi’s voice was the final drop in temperature that made the water freeze.

Slowly, he turned and when he saw Illumi running to him he wanted to cry. But he couldn’t. So he held himself back and let Illumi come to a stop in front of him. Hisoka watched as he tried to catch his breath, how long had he been running? Studying how his hair had grown out, how his face had matured.

“I’m sorry,” Illumi gasped. “I’m sorry I missed our day. I’m sorry.”

Hisoka stared at him, anger flickering in his heart. “It’s been a year and a half Illumi.”

Illumi stared at him. “What?” He knew he had lost track of time but it couldn’t have been that long. Could it?

“The last time I saw you was a year and a half ago. I have waited there for you three times and now you decide to show your face? Only now?” It took everything Hisoka had to control the anger in his heart. So much so that he didn’t even notice the devastated look on Illumi’s face.

“Three…” Illumi’s legs shook, he had reached his limit and his needles could no longer hold them together. “Three times…?”

“Three times.”

“I…” Illumi looked down. “I’m sorry. My parents they…I…” And suddenly Illumi couldn’t hold back what had happened over the past year and a half. “I was assigned a target…but I—I couldn’t do it.” He shook his head. “I couldn't. I couldn’t kill you and they punished me. They locked me in and tortured me and I…I lost track of time. I’m sorry.”

Hisoka stared at him again. All the anger he had felt drained away in an instant. “For a year and half?” He breathed, shocked. Illumi nodded. “Fuck…” Hisoka didn’t know what to say. He had thought Illumi had abandoned him. Thought that he was doing this all by choice. But he wasn’t. He had never abandoned him, only been kept from him, held prisoner in his own house. He could see it now. The bruises on his face and neck, the cuts on his hands, the odd angle of his ankle, the dark stains slowly spreading over his clothes. How had he not seen it earlier? “How injured are you?”

Illumi shook his head. “I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.”

“Can you walk?” Hisoka asked with an ache in his heart.

Illumi nodded. However when he took a step forward his leg gave way beneath him and he lurched into Hisoka who caught him with ease. His legs, how whole body seared with pain. Yet as he stood their, his face against Hisoka’s neck, his chest against him, his arms around him, he could think of nothing beyond how good it felt. Like he was finally home.

“Come on,” Hisoka pulled away, wrapping one arm around Illumi’s waist. “You can lean on me.”

There was no discussion of where they would go. However Illumi was certain where ever it was would be a hundred times better than his house.

Chapter Text

The hotel Hisoka was staying at was indeed nicer than Illumi’s house. There was a faint scent of cigarettes everywhere, stains of unknown origin on the brown carpet floors but it was better purely for the reason that Hisoka was with him. That he could look at the face he had thought of so often as his bones were broken, reminding himself of why he was taking this torture. Reminding him that however much pain it would cause him he would never be able to kill Hisoka.

Hisoka didn’t know what to think. Logically he knew Illumi had no choice in missing their day three times. Logically he knew Illumi had been tortured and kept from him. But in his heart he was still hurt. For a year and a half he had been hurt. And that doesn’t just go away. But because it was Illumi, because of what he had been through he knew that pain would fade. So he put it to the back of his mind and let himself focus only on caring for Illumi; bandaging and cleaning his cuts, setting his broken bones…forcing his eyes not to wander as Illumi sat in front of him in only his underwear, so much of his soft pale skin exposed in the dim hotel light. However Hisoka couldn’t help but let his hands linger on his thighs as he bandaged them. But the wounds were too deep, too severe for Hisoka to really be able to enjoy the full extent of Illumi’s body.

“Your family did this to you?” He asked, purely for something—anything to say. Illumi nodded, watching Hisoka clean a cut across his chest. He was so close to him. If he reached out just a little he could run his hand through Hisoka’ hair, just a little. He was so close. So fucking close. Hisoka had asked him another question but he didn’t hear it because the next thing he knew his fingers were combing through his hair. It was just as soft as Illumi had always imagined. It curled around his fingers.

Hisoka didn’t look at him, not shifting his eyes an inch away from what he was doing even though his heart was pounding out of his chest from Illumi’s touch. Illumi kept playing with his hair, pushing it out of his face. “Let’s go to bed,” he whispered and didn’t bother to worry over the other meaning behind that statement.

“I’m almost done here and then we can.”

Illumi sighed softly, disappointed. He had endured much worse injuries before; he was fine. It hardly even hurt anymore. But Hisoka wouldn’t leave him alone. Not until he had bandaged and cleaned every one of his injuries. Illumi had never had someone care for him that much and he couldn’t decide if he loved it or found it uncomfortable. But he did know he liked being touched by him.

Only once Hisoka finished bandaging him did he look up at Illumi, his hand still in his hair. For a moment, he didn’t move from his place on the ground, leaning into and savoring Illumi’s touch. He didn’t want to ruin the moment between them but he knew Illumi was tired. He had been through so much for so long. So Hisoka stood and offered a hand to Illumi.

“Let’s go,” Illumi smiled weakly at him, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. But he took his hand and leaned on him as he walked to the bed.

As Illumi tucked himself under the blankets Hisoka turned the overhead light off, leaving only the bedside lamp on before slipping under the covers next to him.

“I’m sorry,” Illumi breathed so quietly Hisoka almost didn’t hear him.

“Illumi,” Hisoka rolled onto his side and put a hand on his shoulder to get him to look at him. “It wasn’t in your control. Stop apologizing for it.” Illumi stared at him, eyes flitting around his face, searching for any trace of a lie. But he didn’t find anything and he didn’t know what to do with that information.

“Hisoka, I—“

“Stop apologizing, Illumi,” he pulled himself closer to him, his hand finding its way into Illumi’s silky black hair. “It’s okay.” Illumi stared at him. He was so close to him. He could lean forward and press his lips to his without even moving his torso. And he wanted to. So badly, he wanted to kiss him.

However before he could say anything, do anything the light flickered and winked out. Hisoka froze, cold fear smothering all the warmth that came from being so close to Illumi. “Fuck,” he cussed, scrambling to turn the light on again. He flipped the switch and nothing happened. He flipped it again and still nothing happened. “No, no, no! Fuck!” He was panicking now, flipping the switch over and over again but the light didn’t come back. He was bathed in darkness. He was back in that cellar. Trapped there with them.

But the hands that snaked around his waist weren’t theirs. And the body that pressed up against his back wasn’t theirs. And the voice that whispered in his ear wasn’t theirs. It was Illumi. And he was so warm and so comforting. “The powers out,” he whispered. To Hisoka’s surprise that information didn’t increase the panic in his heart, if anything it was dissipating; drained away by Illumi’s arms around him. “Are you going to be okay?”

With Illumi’s arms around him Hisoka thought that he might. But the last thing he wanted was for Illumi to let go of him. So he muttered back: “I don’t know.”

“Does this help?”

“Yes,” he didn’t think about answering but before he knew it the word had slipped out.

Illumi tucked him in closer, tightening his arms around him until the frantic throbbing of his heart returned to normal. Or, as normal as it could be with Illumi touching him so intimately. So Hisoka turned around and slipped his arms around Illumi’s ribs. They huddled under the blankets, bodies pressed close together, waiting for sleep to take them. But neither of them wanted to sleep. Neither of them wanted that moment to end. Wrapped in eachothers arms they felt safer than they had in both of their lives.

Darkness crept in on them, the snow that gathered in the windowsill turning to rain that battered the window. The sound filled the room, covering the sounds of their breathings that were all they could hear. Illumi shifted closer to Hisoka, tucking his head against his collar.

For a while, they were peaceful there. Warm and wrapped in each other. Happy. The lingering pain in Illumi’s bones faded; the dark fear in Hisoka’s heart was warmed in a way he never imagined possible. The darkness didn’t scare him now. He could ignore it, fade into Illumi’s body until there was nothing left of him that was not also in some way Illumi. It was the most comforted, the most safe either of them had ever felt. It was wonderful.

Illumi could feel his consciousness slipping away, as if being so close to Hisoka was draining away his energy. Sucking it from his blood and leaving behind a warm, pleasant aching. He wanted to sleep. He wanted the memories and the guilt of the past year and a half to fade away. He wanted to forget why he was imprisoned and tortured in the first place. He wanted to forget everything until the world boiled down to just Hisoka. He wanted--

Thunder and Lightning cracked through the sky, bathing the room in light for a split second.

Illumi jolted upright, suddenly completely awake. His heart thundered in his chest as if desperate to remind him that he was alive. That he was there. With Hisoka. Safe.

“Illumi?” Hisoka’s hand drifted to his thigh. He didn’t sit up but his attention focused solely on Illumi, worried and wondering what had happened. He turned his attention to Hisoka, his big, dark eyes wide and terrified. Hisoka knew that look and knew it well. “It was the thunder wasn’t it?” his voice was more gentle than Illumi had ever heard it. It was soothing. Illumi nodded, just barely, scared of what Hisoka would do if he knew.

He couldn’t remember when this fear had begun. But he did remember what started it. The sound of the thunder, the flash of lightning that came with it took him back to being at the receiving end of his father’s electric whip, quivering and cowering as it lashed him over and over again.

“Okay,” Hisoka’s hand drifted to his back and stroked up and down his spine. “Do you want to come back to bed?” Once again, Illumi nodded before slipping back into Hisoka’s waiting arms. He snuggled in closer to him this time, pressing every inch of his body to Hisoka that he could. In Hisoka’s arms, his slender fingers and long nails trailing up and down his back, his fear melted away. Dround out by the warmth that swept into his heart. He had never felt a feeling like that before. Never in his life.

And it felt divine.

Chapter Text

Something changed after that day; clicked into place like it had always been there, waiting and waiting for a catalyst. Illumi’s wounds healed and Hisoka’s hurt faded as time passed in each other's arms, staying in that small, small hotel room, living off Hisoka’s winnings at Heaven’s Arena. Each cold night they would slip into bed together and fold their bodies against each other. Every morning Hisoka would wake, later than Illumi, to find his hands tracing across his chest and back.

It was on one such morning that Hisoka said what they had both been dreading.

Gaze slurred with sleep Hisoka pulled gently out of Illumi’s arms to look up at him. He was so close to him. And it was fucking wonderful. Hisoka smiled, drunk off Illumi’s warmth. He breathed out his name just to say it. Just for the joy of having it on his lips.

“Good morning,” Illumi muttered back, arms locked around him so he could move no further away from him.

Hisoka reached up to brush aside a strand of long dark hair that draped in front of Illummi’s face. “How are you feeling?” he had asked the same question everyday, twice a day, sometimes three, since they had found each other. He was worried about him. Worried that there was something wrong with him internally that neither of them would notice until it was too late. But Illumi knew there was nothing more that was wrong with him. He was healing and with Hisoka beside him he felt wonderful.

“Good,” he pushed his head into Hisoka’s soft palm. He was so close. But he wanted him closer. So much closer. He wanted him kissing him, feeling him. He wanted to be inside of Hisoka and have Hisoka inside of him all at once. He wanted it so desperately that he had to hold himself back with everything he had to keep himself from pinning Hisoka beneath him and fucking him till nightfall.

“Better than yesterday?” how Illumi could focus on answering with Hisoka so close to him, with the dirty thoughts that ran through his head, was a mystery. But he nodded nonetheless, forcing him to focus on the motion of it instead of Hisoka’s bare chest.

“That's good,” he sat up, the blanket that covered him slipping down to his waist. “We should leave today, I’m running out of money…and it’s probably better to get further away from your parents too.”

Illumi couldn’t deny that. It was a miracle they hadn’t found them already. But with Hisoka in front of him, his entire upper body exposed, there was no way he could have spoken without giving away his thoughts. So he nodded again and forced his gaze away from Hisoka’s pale body. Yet he didn’t want to leave. Leaving would mean change. Leaving would mean two beds or maybe even two rooms. Leaving would mean this wonderful feeling in his chest that gleamed bright as the sun whenever Hisoka looked at him would be harder to find, and possibly fade away all together. He didn’t want that to change and he was so remarkably scared it would.

“Hisoka?” he asked, sitting up as well.

“Hm?” Hisoka was standing now, his pants so very low on his hips. So low that if they fell just a half an inch lower the base of his cock would be just barely visible. And there was no possible way he was wearing underwear. Illumi started. Over their time together it became remarkably clear that Hisoka did not like clothes. He would take any and every opportunity he had to strip, Illumi knew he would never get used to it, yet he had also never seen him fully naked. No matter how much he tried, he was never able to see quite as much as he wanted to. He was tempted at that moment to move closer and finish the job himself so he could finally see what he was so desperate to touch, to hold, to kiss and suck and fuck.

“Kiss me.”