Kurapika x Reader One-Shot Collection

Lights* (Kurapika x Female Reader)

(Y/N)

I feel like a small child every time I come here. From the rainbow colored walls to the brightly painted tiles on the ceiling, it reminds me more of a school than a pediatric hospital. The smaller children play random games while the older ones scroll through their phones. The younger kids probably don't know why they're here, but the older ones, they know. The depressed look on their faces says everything.

I straighten my dress after checking in. Even though I'm no longer a child, I refuse to change doctors. I take a seat in one of the purple cushioned chairs. I watch the children play with puzzles and whatever those toys are called where you slide shapes around some maze. I look at the parents watching them. They all have one thing in common. Hope. Hope that their child will celebrate their next birthday. You see, this isn't just any pediatric hospital. I look up at the colored letters above the front desk. Oncology.

"There's my favorite patient," Dr. Paradinight says as he extends his arm to me.

I stand from my seat and shake his hand. "You say that to everyone, don't you?"

He pinches my cheek. "Yeah. I mean it when I tell you though." He walks me towards the locked doors. He scans his badge and looks my way. "You look like you have lost weight since the last time I saw you. Are you eating?"

I shake my head as we continue to walk down the hallway. "Not really. You know these treatments make me nauseous."

He stops walking. "I gave you medication for that."

I stand in front of him, tucking some stray strands of hair behind my ear. "I know. I'll start taking it. I promise."

He flails his arms in the air. "(Y/N), do you want to get better or not? If you want me to continue being your doctor, you have to be compliant. You're lucky I took you back after you decided to stop treatments."

He grabs my chart from the rack behind him. I follow him into one of the rooms.

I hop on the exam table. The sound of the paper crinkling beneath me fills the silence. "You're right. I'm sorry."

He reads through my chart. "Do you need me to increase the dose of your antidepressant?"

I give him a blank stare.

He sighs. "Let me guess. You're not taking those either."

I look to the side, avoiding eye contact with him. "No. They make me feel like a zombie. I'm afraid if I'm given a moment of happiness, I'll miss the feeling."

He puts my chart down and walks closer to me, taking his stethoscope off his neck. "Are you telling me you've never felt happy before?"

"Sure. When I was a child. I'm sure the feeling is different now."

I take some deep breaths, allowing him to listen to my lungs.

He places his stethoscope back behind his neck. "You know what you need?"

"A miracle?"

"No. You leave that part to me. What you need is to go out on a date."

I tilt my head to the side. "Oh, yeah? Do they have those at the pharmacy?"

He fakes a laugh as he looks around the desk. After finding a brochure, he hands it to me. "Doctor's order. Go to one of these support groups. Trust me, guys will flock to you. I want to hear all about it during our next visit."

I pretend to read through the brochure. I always felt these support groups were a waste of time.

"I'll think about it," I lie.