leaving, yet again

too much left unsaid

a/n: I'm back with a new part! this has already been posted to ao3, as I'm a bit more active there (badabeebadaboo). enjoy some angst!

The flickering of the dull white lighting above the kitchen table had been pulling on Leorio's nerves for several weeks now, yet somehow he didn't find the energy nor the motivation to actually fix it. In the back of his head, if he'd be truly honest with himself and finally admit it, he had already planned out a rough idea on how he could fill his apartment up with a friendly kind of warmth, but he had decided to constantly push those thoughts back from where they came from. Why? They didn't feel right yet.

He leaned back in the creaking fold-up chair and eyed the plastic lampshade.

It just didn't feel right to surround oneself with comfort, when he was madly worrying about someone who had always been linked to his ideas. Someone with whom wanted to share his kitchen cutlery, someone whom he wanted to rant to at 2 am while eating take out, about the stupid, broken, lamp, someone for whom he'd (attempt to) make hot chocolate for when the heater would break on a cold autumn day. Not someone who would light-headedly throw themselves into an emotionally-driven knife fight. Someone who would wordlessly disappear the morning after falling asleep on the living room couch, limbs intertwined and then harshly broken apart, repeatedly. He understood, understood that these two someones would always flow into one. It was not in his right to separate, no matter how beneficial that would be for everyone .

He also noticed that the current table would probably need a replacement too. His restless knee bumped against the underside every other second. He found himself carelessly fiddling with his phone, unlocking and checking the time in frequent intervals. It seemed to him like hours had passed, yet it was only a few minutes. 'He'll be back by nine,' he assured himself, 'He promised.'

But Leorio had agreed. Oh, he had agreed so long ago, he had agreed and promised himself to care, and help, and let them in again. To shelter them from the cold, to sometimes not ask questions but to simply hold them. And when he let them go, on lonely days, he tried to keep his mind focused on work, and volunteered for extra shifts. Hoped that studying would distract from the headache of wondering, and he had to be careful not to lose track of his own dreams. No matter the size of his heart, he had to respect his own limits. Often, he would stay awake late or pull all-nighters, telling himself that it would only boost his studies, but silently holding on to the hope of a phone call. And of course, he waited. God, he had waited so much he began to despise the word.

A short message lit up on the screen.

8.55pm
Kurapika: I apologize. I'll be home in 40, do we need anything from the store?

It was always fun, seeing his friend having difficulties switching his texting style from work to casual. Maybe he decided to text back too fast, maybe it was the excitement of seeing 'we' instead of 'you', maybe it was a reflex.

8.56pm
Me: 's okay
Me: maybe milk if you stop by anyway
Me: if not then come home

9.01pm
Me: drive carefully

Forty minutes would be enough to prepare something edible. Considering his friend's eating habits, a gut feeling told Leorio that today had not been a day where he paid much attention to self-care. Pushing back the unstable chair (damn the dollar store, but wait, no, bless it, he was a college student after all), Leorio made his way to the fridge. He sorted out the few ingredients available after placing down his phone once making sure he hadn't missed any messages. Silly, he thought, shaking his head, and started searching for a fitting pot to fill with water.