Chapter Text
Like most difficult things in the world, it all started with Hisoka.
Illumi was self-aware enough to know it wasn’t normal to loiter behind the white columns of the admissions building and watch his little brother and his little brother’s best friend stomp on fallen leaves.
But he also knew it wasn’t normal for a senior in high school to be doing it with them. Hisoka had taken a very odd liking to Gon, and by extension, Killua. If it had been anyone else, Illumi would have brushed it off as harmless, but Hisoka was anything but harmless.
For students on a full scholarship, there was always an expectation as to how they would behave. Hisoka did not tend to align himself with expectations.
He was smart and athletically talented--Illumi had been stuck on the same varsity lacrosse team as him for three and a half years now. He was popular, too--not well-liked, but popular. Hisoka always seemed to be flitting from one group to the next. He and Machi became begrudging friends, then he and Chrollo, and now, disturbingly, Gon.
Hisoka was everywhere.
Illumi wanted him nowhere.
It was why he was spending his precious afternoons stalking his brother instead of schoolwork, or training, or doing anything remotely productive. He was suspicious of Hisoka, especially in regards to his little brother.
“Illumi!” That was Killua’s voice. He sounded cross. Fluffy platinum hair started moving towards him at an incredible speed, like the head of a dandelion seed blowing in the wind.
“You’re following me!” He whined. Gon appeared like a bodyguard at Killua’s side. Hisoka meandered towards Illumi as well. His school uniform was unbuttoned at the chest and parts of the hem had come untucked from his pants. Illumi could tell it was all purposeful. He wanted to sneer.
“I just came to tell you that Mother’s sending the car an hour earlier today. Don’t be late.” He heard Killua groan, but he didn’t see it. Hisoka was filling up his frame of view, grinning knowingly, hair an alarming shade of fire-engine red, with the ends turning a pinkish color. It left Illumi utterly confused about Hisoka’s natural hair color, not that it really mattered.
“You’ve been watching us,” he purred. Hisoka and Illumi had known each other for over three years now. They played together. They were both on the starting line for lacrosse, both considered exceptionally talented players. Still, they rarely spoke, if ever.
Illumi shoved his hands in his pockets and tilted his chin upwards. He and Hisoka were the same height, but the way Hisoka was standing--leaning slightly forward, looming like an ancient, cursed tree--made Illumi feel inadequately small.
“We’re going to find Zushi, peace!” Killua said. Gon waved goodbye, glancing once, warily, at Illumi.
They didn’t get along.
“I haven’t been watching you,” Illumi said, finally responding to Hisoka.
“Wanna practice today?” For emphasis, he lifted the lacrosse stick that was slung over his shoulder
“Like I said, we’re getting picked up soon,” Illumi replied stiffly. Hisoka was obsessed with testing his skills against people. It was almost impressive the lengths he went to in order to adequately challenge himself. It half-answered the question as to exactly why and how he had gotten a full-ride scholarship to one of the most prestigious prep schools in the country.
Hisoka tapped his chin thoughtfully, one dark brow lowered.
“Why don’t you board here? You have the money.”
“My family lives nearby. They prefer us at home.” It wasn’t untrue. Illumi’s parents had lots of preferences. Hisoka gave Illumi a once-over. They had been changing in front of each other in the locker rooms for years now. And Hisoka was definitely perverted enough to stare at people while they changed. Illumi was certain he had seen it.
He probably hadn’t even needed to pay much attention to him. Bruises that big and that dark stood out too well on his skin. The whole team probably knew. He used to be incredibly embarrassed about it, used to grit his teeth before he walked into the locker room, curled in on himself as soon as his shirt was off. He declined massages from the hot, young trainer named Brenna and only saw her if it was serious. She was young and a little clueless, popping bubblegum boredly as Illumi explained icily that he had sprained his wrist after a trip down the stairs.
You’re pretty clumsy, kiddo, was her response. That had been his fifth injury that season. She didn’t see through the lie, or the many others that would follow, just sort of shrugged and taped him up whenever he asked. She was a blessing.
Hisoka snapped his fingers in front of Illumi’s face.
“Hello?” Illumi wrinkled his nose and took a step back.
“That’s very rude. Don’t do that.”
“You were zoning out,” Hisoka explained.
“It’s rude,” Illumi said. Hisoka smiled, eyes crushing into fond crescents.
“Okay, my bad.” Illumi didn’t like the way he said it, like he was humoring Illumi, throwing him a metaphorical bone.
“Why are you hanging out with my brother?” He demanded, feeling unsettled under Hisoka’s full-lipped smile.
“I’m hanging out with Gon,” he corrected. “Because he’s fun. And he doesn’t treat me like I should feel lucky to be here.” Illumi’s nose wrinkled.
“You should feel lucky to be here.” Hisoka smile tightened and then widened to an almost disturbing quality.
“Right, Zoldyck. Have fun at home. Let’s practice tomorrow, then?” Hisoka took two steps back. His pants were slightly too short, revealing thin, pale ankles, slightly freckled from the summer. There were bandaids on both of his elbows.
“Fine,” Illumi said. He checked his phone on reflex and his stomach tightened. An hour until they were picked up.
“Okay, meet me at the field at four.”
“That’s late,” Illumi said, frowning. Hisoka gave him his own version of a frown, which was a smile.
“Am I supposed to cater to your schedule, your highness?” Illumi felt an eye twitch coming on.
“You’re the one who wants to practice with me,” he pointed out. “Besides, there are plenty of other guys on the team you could play with. I’m not the only person in the school who can hold a lacrosse stick.”
“But you’re good,” Hisoka whined.
“There are four other middies you could practice with.”
“I don’t want to play with other middies, I want to play with you. If four’s too late, I--”
“Four’s fine,” Illumi muttered. Though he would never admit it, it was flattering that Hisoka saw him as a challenge. Hisoka was uncommonly good at lacrosse. That was the other reason for his admittance to the school. He was tall and strong, but unbelievably deft. Illumi prided himself on accuracy and handling skills, but Hisoka could probably match him.
The only thing Illumi knew he had on him was stamina, but even that was not by a very large margin.
“Okay, good, four it is,” Hisoka said with a winning smile.
“Okay.”
“See you!” Hisoka shouted, far enough away now for that to be necessary. He did a funny little wave, wiggling his fingers instead of moving his hand. Illumi tucked his hair behind his ear and walked off.
Early October meant the ground was littered with leaves, orange and brown and red and yellow. The image of Gon, Killua, and Hisoka stomping around in them flitted through his mind. Experimentally, he pressed his foot down on a stray leaf. It crushed silently, leaving a pathetic brown wrinkle in the pavement.
Illumi found another one, this time, bright red, the color of Hisoka’s horrible hair. He stepped on it, hard, and it crunched like a nose beneath a fist.
As soon as Hisoka walked through the doors of the library, every eye was on him.
There were a few reasons as to why that would be the case. First, and perhaps the most obvious, was his hair--bright red and pink, bangs falling with a middle part past his eyebrows. He had gotten an undercut last year, but the back was growing out into something that resembled a mullet.
Second, he was wearing athletic shorts and a sweatshirt, and he was carrying a lacrosse stick and a sports bag. It wasn’t library attire. He held his cleats by the laces, swinging them back and forth.
Third, he was scowling. Hisoka was always smiling. Even the librarian, who saw him only in brief flits throughout the week, blinked in surprise at the expression on his face.
It didn’t take long for him to find Illumi. He was curled up in a chair near the wrap-around railing of the fourth floor. Their library was the largest of any prep school in the country. It stood five stories tall and was built with a courtyard-like middle where the school held small events and hosted speakers. The upper floors were filled with book stacks and reading nooks, as well as desks and tables with the traditional green library lamps, for studying and group work.
Illumi had a very large book open in his lap and a steaming mug on the side table next to him. A sweatshirt was balled up on the floor and his school bag was open. Inside, Hisoka could see a small red first aid kit, a stick of deodorant, a protein bar, and various notebooks. His laptop was on the coffee table in front of him, open, and turned on. It cast a gentle blue light on Illumi’s already blue-ish skin.
“Let’s go,” Hisoka said, coming to a stop by the table. He was feeling sour. Illumi had promised that they would practice today and so he had been waiting on the lacrosse field by himself for half an hour, no Illumi in sight.
Tired black eyes lifted to look at him.
“Go where?”
“Lacrosse!” Hisoka snapped. He swung his lacrosse stick for good measure. Illumi turned the page on his book; it was about Russian art history.
“I can’t,” Illumi said tersely. His hair was in a messy low bun. It looked really nice, but Hisoka was loath to admit that to him.
“You promised,” Hisoka said, and he tried to keep the whine out of his voice. He hated when people broke promises.
“I just can’t, Hisoka,” Illumi said, growing impatient now.
“Give me a reason.”
“I have a test tomorrow.” It was such an obvious lie that Hisoka laughed. For a moment, he forgot his anger.
“Oh yeah? I’m pretty smart, I could tutor you.”
“Leave me alone,” Illumi said.
“Aw, but you look so lonely sitting here. Hey--”
“Leave me alone,” Illumi repeated, staring up at Hisoka. There was an intensity in his gaze.
“Hey, why are you wearing that?” Hisoka reached out and fingered the cuff of the turtleneck he was wearing under his uniform.
“It’s cold in here.” Illumi and Hisoka met gazes once again. Hisoka was fully smiling now, eyes crinkling slightly.
“But that’s under your uniform. So you mean to tell me you came to the library, got cold, took off your collared shirt and your sweater and put a turtleneck on underneath all that?”
“Yes,” Illumi bit out.
“But you have a sweatshirt on the floor,” Hisoka pointed out, enjoying himself now. He didn’t think Illumi Zoldyck could blush, but here he was, proving him wrong, and he was hardly trying.
“Please leave me alone.”
“No. I’m annoyed with you. I was waiting for us to practice, and now I’m in the library and I don’t have my schoolbag. I guess I’m just going to have to watch you study.”
“You could leave,” Illumi muttered.
“You’re such a brat,” Hisoka laughed. Illumi’s eyebrows shot up in indignation.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m not your butler, you can’t just send me away.”
“Fine, fucking sit here and watch me fucking study, Hisoka. I hope this does it for you.” Illumi nearly ripped the page as he turned it, tucking a falling strand of hair behind his ear immediately after.
Hisoka clicked his tongue in smug delight and collapsed in the chair next to Illumi, propping his feet up on Illumi’s knee.
He got a wary, black-eyed glare from Illumi but nothing more. Hisoka pulled his hood up to cover his eyes and melted into the chair with a leisurely sigh.
“Illu~” Hisoka sang softly after a moment of silence. He didn’t open his eyes but he could feel Illumi’s thigh tense under his ankles. “Wake me up when your ride is here. I want to see what kind of car your parents have.” He heard Illumi scoff, a delightfully uncharacteristic sound, and then close his laptop.
“It’s a silver Bentley. That’s what they send the driver to pick us up in.” Hisoka fell silent for a moment, slightly dazed. That car could buy him a house. It could buy him a house and a year of tuition, maybe two.
“Can I come to your house?” He asked,
“No,” was the resounding answer.
“Boo, Illumi. That’s why you have no friends.”
“You don’t have friends either,” Illumi snipped, putting his laptop in his school bag, along with the book and his sweatshirt. He had to hold his bag closed with his knees in order to zip it up properly. Hisoka watched, smiling sweetly.
“Okay, bye,” Illumi said, shouldering his bag. His bun had loosened even more, allowing chunks of dark, silky hair to fall in front of his face once more. His eyes were rimmed in gray and his cheeks were flushed, no doubt because he was wearing a turtleneck on a warm autumn day in a building with heating. The flush worked its way from his cheeks down to the little bit of throat he had exposed.
“What are you looking at?” Illumi demanded. Hisoka glanced up at him, blinking out of his reverie.
“Do you have hickies?” He asked, grinning deviously. “Is that why you’re wearing that?”
“No,” Illumi said, as firm as ever.
“You’re lying.”
“I’m really not, Hisoka. Goodbye.” But Hisoka wasn’t done yet. He grabbed his bag and his lacrosse stick and trotted after Illumi, swinging the stick from side to side, careful to avoid the book stacks and nearby students.
“Stop following me,” Illumi half-begged.
“I want to see your car,” Hisoka pouted.
“You think I’m lying?”
“I’ve never seen a Bentley in person before. I’ve never seen you get picked up. I’m curious.” Illumi decided not to argue with that. He walked very gingerly down the stairs, gripping the railing like an old person. Hisoka noticed it but he didn’t say anything. He had a feeling the turtleneck and the way Illumi was limping down the stairs were connected to why he refused to play lacrosse this afternoon.
But it wasn’t like Illumi would confirm or deny that. He seemed perfectly content to be his odd, untouchable self, with his big alien eyes and his long hair and the weird way he hovered over his younger brother like a guard dog.
Hisoka watched Illumi slowly limp down the stairs of the front entrance to the library, where a silver Bentley was indeed idling at the curb. Hisoka could see the white fluff of Killua’s hair, and the scowl of Milluki, the second oldest, nose nearly pressed to the screen of an IPad.
“Can we practice tomorrow?” Hisoka called hopefully. Illumi winced, his big, expressionless eyes going soft with something like regret.
“Can you just give me a few days? I just need--” Illumi caught himself. “This Friday, we can. I have to stay late to meet with a teacher.”
“That’s so far away,” Hisoka whined. The trunk of the car whirred as it opened; Illumi threw his bag inside and closed it with the push of a button.
“It’s three days away.”
“Whatever~” Hisoka sang, throwing both arms behind his head and folding them there. Killua, from inside the car, stuck his tongue out at him. Hisoka stuck his out right back.
Someone--Illumi--slammed the door shut and the car glided away. Hisoka tipped his head back, squinting against a purple and yellow sky, and sighed contentedly.