Chapter Text
Hisoka woke up alone.
It certainly wasn’t how he would prefer to start his day, given the choice; but it was something that he was reluctantly growing accustomed to.
Seeing little reason to delay getting up, he rolled out of bed and headed for the en suite. As he brushed his teeth, he examined himself in the mirror, casting his eyes over the tousled hair and sleepy countenance. Displeased with what he saw, he splashed his face with cold water before heading back out of the bathroom and making a beeline for the bedroom door.
It was only a few paces from the bedroom to the top of the stairs, and from there, he had a clear view of the kitchen. His feet had barely hit the third step before he was raising his voice, calling, “one of these days, I’ll make it down here before you”.
From his seat at the table, Illumi calmly replied, “I doubt it”.
“Well,” Hisoka countered, “not all of us feel the need to be up with the sun”.
“Whatever you say.”
Walking down the stairs, Hisoka again congratulated himself on his marvellous idea for them all to move away from Heaven’s Arena, and even more so, for his impeccable taste in real estate.
Even Illumi, who was principally accustomed to an abode that could comfortably be described as ‘palatial’, had kept his quibbles about the apartment to a minimum. And though Hisoka suspected that Illumi was still irked by the lack of live-in servants, he also knew that Illumi approved of his choice.
Which wasn’t to say that he’d made the choice alone – Milluki’d had plenty to say, particularly for someone who wasn’t remotely monetarily involved in the venture. More than anything, he’d jumped at the chance to live on a separate floor from his ‘roommates’… and he wasn’t the only one. Though the top floor of their penthouse apartment had the two largest bedrooms, Hisoka had been nothing but encouraging when Milluki had asserted his preference for the lone bedroom on the lower floor.
Illumi didn’t seem to have made the same connection, but Hisoka assumed that he and Milluki shared a similar desire for the two bedrooms to be far out of each other’s hearing range.
Not that it was doing Hisoka any good, at the moment.
Fortuitously, they’d found this place quickly, and they’d been able to move barely a month after he’d first floated the idea of doing so. It was exceptionally fast, undoubtedly, but Hisoka found that with enough money, and just the slightest pinch of intimidation, it was possible to have anything done on his schedule.
They hadn’t gone far – choosing to remain reasonably close to Heaven’s Arena for the foreseeable future. Though Hisoka had left his complimentary apartment, he wasstill a floor master… and without cause to go gallivanting off to Padokea, or the need to go searching far and wide for something to entertain him, there was little reason to create a long commute for himself. And his resident Zoldycks had also been happy to stay in an entirely different country from the home they’d all but fled from.
Speaking of which, it was hard for Hisoka to comprehend that they’d all been officially ‘living together’ for close to seven months now. Granted, Hisoka missed a month of that time while he was on Greed Island… and, far more gallingly, Illumi had spent more than half of those nights on the top floor of Heaven’s Arena, warming someone else’s bed.
Zouver was a couple of months behind them now, but it still irritated Hisoka to be reminded that he’d ever existed. In particular, that he’d been so close that whole time, and Hisoka hadn’t managed to so much as break one of the man’s fingers. Yes, he recognised that Illumi tearing his heart out had been by far the best eventuality, but it did very little to salve his own aching need to inflict the most excruciating of tortures upon a man who was now dead and buried.
And even six feet under, Zouver managed to cause problems. Owing to him having been such an influential figure (both in the underworld and in the business sector), his sudden passing had left no shortage of chaos, as boards furiously debated who would assume control of his assets, and dangerous individuals fought to fill the power vacuum he’d left behind.
At the very least, the three of them seemed to have avoiding being sucked into the fracas, despite the otherwise suspicious timing of their move. In fact, Zouver’s death had provided a convenient excuse – with management of Heaven’s Arena in contention, it only made sense that Hisoka (who, of course, cared not for drama) would want to avoid the resultant disorder. Moreover, people were far more interested in claiming their piece of the Zouver empire than they were with who had carved it up to be served in the first place.
And if anyone suspected that the culprit was a professional assassin whose family had a penchant for removing the hearts of their targets, then they were either too afraid to say so, or far more concerned with who had (presumably) paid him to do it.
Hisoka pulled up a chair next to Illumi, stealing a peck on the cheek as he sat down.
Illumi made a noise that might have signalled displeasure, but he made no move to avoid the small show of affection. Had his brother been in the room, however, Hisoka might have found himself being thrown out of one of the nearby windows.
“Little brother still sleeping?” Hisoka asked, reaching for the fruit bowl in the centre of the table.
Illumi nodded. “He’s still growing. Sleep is important.”
“Ah yes, I’ve always admired your outstanding commitment to getting a full night’s sleep.”
It was possible that Hisoka’s sarcasm went entirely unnoticed, but either way, Illumi didn’t dispute his fond ribbing. “I’m not sure what my work schedule looks like today; I need to ask him when he wakes up.”
Hisoka raised his eyebrow. “Didn’t Millu say last night that there was nothing on the agenda?”
“Things might have changed since then,” Illumi replied, sipping his tea.
From one of the doors to the kitchen, a groggy voice chipped in, “why are you talking about me?”
At the sight of the pyjama-clad teen, Hisoka beamed.
“Good morning to you too, Millu! I trust you’re feeling spry and refreshed?”
Milluki grunted in response, shuffling over to the teapot.
With a dramatic sigh, Hisoka lamented, “typical teenager; sleeping all day and then being oh so grumpy when they finally emerge”.
He could tell from the glare Milluki shot him that he very much wanted to lob the teapot at him. It really was a joy for Hisoka to know that for all the time they’d spent together, he was still able to get a rise out of the boy.
And thank goodness for that – teasing him was one of his most cherished pastimes.
“Have any jobs come in, Millu?” Illumi asked, effectively shutting down Hisoka’s fun.
“Oh, uh… I haven’t checked yet. Sorry, Illu-nii.”
“That’s fine,” Illumi said slowly, but the way he continued to track Milluki’s movements told a different story. “Can you check soon?”
“Uhh…yeah, sure. You want me to go look now?”
Before Illumi could answer in the affirmative, Hisoka cut in, “I’m sure it can wait until after breakfast. Right, Illu?”
Illumi didn’t look like he agreed, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he sat quietly with his tea, the tension only growing until Milluki hastily got up, announcing he was going to check.
“Thank you, Millu,” Illumi called after him.
Hisoka shook his head in amusement.
***
Despite Illu-nii’s obsessive questioning about work, as it turned out, there really wasn’t anything new for him.
Jobs had been coming in at a fairly regular pace, but it wasn’t remotely abnormal to have evenings when there was nothing. Assassination was, after all, something of a ‘niche’ service, and it was to be expected that there would be times when some or all of the family’s time was not required. Despite that expectation, Illu-nii seemed to have become even more neurotic about not working. Milluki wasn’t sure what he was trying to prove, exactly – maybe he wanted to make sure that Papa had zero incentive to change his mind about letting the two of them live away from home…?
…Well. ‘Letting’ wasn’t really the right word for what had happened.
Milluki had been there for that fateful phone call; he knew that Papa had wanted Illu-nii to return, and immediately, and Illumi had all but blackmailed him into allowing their continued absence.
The issue of them returning hadn’t been raised since that day, but he knew that their papa’s opinion on the matter wouldn’t have changed. It was like a guillotine constantly hanging over them, and though he could see it there, glinting in the sun, he didn’t know when it would fall.
His communication with Papa had primarily been over text, though he’d also endured the occasional short, tense phone call. Those were uncomfortable, to say the least. Somehow, even with only his voice, his papa had managed to reach even greater heights of intimidating him.
As far as Milluki knew (and he had no cause to believe otherwise), Papa hadn’t spoken to Illu-nii at all. Every mission was delivered via Milluki, and in turn, Illu-nii’s mission completions were conveyed back to their father by Milluki too.
It was fine, it was his job to do it, but the trepidation was killing him.
He poked his head back into the kitchen to let Illu-nii know the (lack of) news, before heading to the downstairs bathroom to get ready for the day.
Though the two upstairs bedrooms came with their own en suites, he was still unswayed in his choice of bedroom. Being that he was used to residing in a giant stone mansion, having his bedroom be only a short staircase away from his fellow inhabitants’ was already weird enough.
That said, he did miss the Zoldyck estate’s litany of security cameras, and the comfort that came from being able to check up on his family with them. But, well, if he could cope with Kallu being who knows where with the Phantom Troupe, he could live with not knowing exactly which room of the apartment Illumi was currently in.
And it wasn’t like he had to worry anymore about whether Illu-nii was okay after a ‘special request’.
For now, anyway, a traitorous part of his psyche supplied.
He shook it off.
Finished with washing up, he moved to get dressed. Once again, he noticed how loose his trousers were. “What the hell…” he grumbled to himself, fastening the belt ever tighter in an attempt to keep them in place.
He was still adjusting his belt when he walked back into the lounge, and unfortunately, Hisoka was also quick to notice the poor fit of his clothes.
Now sat on the sofa, but still not any closer to getting dressed and ready for the day, Hisoka smiled up at him. “Looks like you’ve lost weight,” he observed.
“I have?” Milluki said, glancing down. He didn’t know if he was imagining it, but Hisoka looked more than a little bit smug about his observation. Annoying.
“Mhm… I think you need some new clothes.” His grin widening, he added, “I would be happy to help you shop for a new wardrobe, if you like~”
“Hell no,” Milluki rebuffed, disgusted. He’d seen how that man dressed.
Chuckling to himself, Hisoka merely shrugged, “your loss”.
“What are you talking about?” Illumi asked from halfway down the stairs.
Grinning, Hisoka replied, “little Millu needs some littler clothes”.
“Will you shut up??” Milluki snapped, turning red.
Hisoka just laughed at Milluki’s continued griping. As Illumi approached them, Hisoka turned towards him and offered, “maybe we could make a day trip of it? Since we’re all free today~”
After a pause, and in utter incongruence to the mood, Illumi abruptly asked, “has any work come in? For anyone?”
“Huh? You mean since I last checked?”
“Yes.”
But that was only five minutes ago…
“I doubt it, Illu-nii. I’d have to check again.”
“Can you?”
Hesitantly, Milluki averred, “…sure”.
He could hear Hisoka saying something to Illumi as he headed back to check once again. Milluki had heard it all before: Hisoka didn’t think they should bother with the family business at all; he didn’t think they should be at their dad’s beck and call; he thought Illumi should relax a bit.
It had all fallen on deaf ears, at least when it came to his big brother.
Milluki refreshed the information on his computer. As expected, there was nothing.
He sighed.
***
The day had been uneventful.
Despite Hisoka’s best efforts to convince him, there had been no impromptu shopping trip. Yes, he did acknowledge that Hisoka was right, and that Millu would need some new clothes, but it was also something that could wait.
Instead, Illumi had used the time for some much-needed training; all the while paying close attention to the work calendar.
It wasn’t just his own schedule that he wanted to be kept appraised of – he was keen to know what all of his family were doing. And moreover, where they were doing it.
Before, that was something that Milluki would have known, down to the finest detail. But now, it was clear that neither of them were being given the whole story. Much like Illumi himself, Milluki’s trustworthiness in the eyes of the family had taken a monumental hit.
And why shouldn’t it have? Milluki may have only done so by extension of Illumi, but the two of them had both refused to return home when they were ordered to do so. Their entire living situation was wholly against their father’s wishes, and Illumi knew it. And he also knew how incredibly angry their father was about what they’d done. What Illumi had done.
It was something that weighed heavily on him, even though he couldn’t sincerely claim that he regretted his actions. Not for one moment had he regretted killing Zouver, nor did he regret telling his father that he would no longer be taking requests of that nature.
He didn’t regret it, but he still felt acutely guilty.
Disobeying his father, going against the best interests of the family, doing things simply because he wanted to…
It wasn’t who he was. Or, perhaps, it wasn’t who he had been…?
Illumi turned his head on the pillow, looking towards Hisoka. It was dark, but he could still make out the sharp lines of Hisoka’s features as he slept. His well-defined nose, his high cheek bones, his meticulously cared for hair, his muscular arm, draped over Illumi’s chest…
Illumi went back to staring at the ceiling.
Sleep had been eluding him lately. Not entirely –he’d grasped pockets of sleep here and there– but certainly, he was having far more difficulty than he had done in the past.
Maybe it was because he’d become so used to staying up all night, in the months he’d shared Zouver’s bed? He’d insistently remained awake then, too; preferring to wait until dawn came and he could leave for the solace of Hisoka’s apartment and bed.
But now, when he was exclusively sharing Hisoka’s bed –their bed– he could only lie there, wide awake, and thoroughly irritated about it.
Still, he persevered, and after what felt like an eon, he finally began to feel himself drift off; his eyelids fluttering closed, and his breathing slowing to a calmer pace. Sleep was finally within his grasp. It was so close. He cou–
“Illumi.”
His eyes immediately snapped open at the deep, imposing voice that was so dreadfully familiar to him.
Turning to look before he could think to do anything else, he saw a tall, imposing figure, barely visible in the darkness, but still as identifiable as if there was a spotlight pointing directly at him.
Long, pale hair; piercing, predatory eyes.
“Fa–”
Illumi had barely breathed out the first syllable before he was forcibly silenced.
Moving imperceptibly fast, his father reached out and clenched Illumi’s throat in one of his huge hands. Quicker than Illumi could even contemplate fighting back, he was wholly lifted from the bed and slammed into the wall behind it.
He couldn’t speak; he couldn’t escape. His hands reached up to pull at the one crushing his windpipe, but it seemed no more effective than clawing at the air.
In a flurry of movement, his father formed a fist with his other hand and unrestrainedly slammed it into the side of Illumi’s face.
Something must have broken. Several somethings must have broken.
As his father’s knuckles made contact with his face a second time, Illumi was sure that he would be unrecognisable after this. And he was also sure that his looks would be the least of his troubles.
Again. Again. Again.
Surely, his face was a concaved mess of blood and tissue at this point. Surely, his neck was going to snap soon from the pressure, if he didn’t suffocate first.
His father’s voice echoed loudly in his head as the blows continued.
Failure.
Pathetic.
Disappointment.
Worthless.
Selfish.
Shameful.
Despite everything, he didn’t feel any pain. Not in the sense that he was able to withstand it – he simply felt nothing. As if he was numb.
This was his fault. He never should have left home. He never should have disobeyed. He never should’ve let Hisoka–
Wait… Hisoka?
His pivoted his blurry, blood-tinged vision down to where Hisoka lie sleeping.
Why isn’t he waking up? How hasn’t he heard all of this noise? How ca–
With a start, Illumi woke up.