#vengehunt

Domestic Starters // @vengehunt

Roused from slumber, Leorio snorts and sputters. He claws at the blankets and finds them softer than anticipated. Tugging their edges close to his chin, he draws his knees near his chest so that they hand over the side of the cushion.

All he can remember is the throb of music and blood in his head, that wavering reality and underwater sound of alcohol in the bloodstream. He tastes no bile but feels no hunger, only dry thirst chapping his lips.

“Wasn’t complaining.” Not a lie. It was Kurapika’s voice that awoke him, and Leorio is certain he doesn’t speak in his sleep, even when intoxicated. His shivering and sniffling have revealed more than words could.

He shuts his eyes and curls his fingers around the blanket, hiding his content lips. “Smells nice.”

Five Word Prompts // @vengehunt (you cheater)

Without speaking, Leorio slid the salt shaker closer to Kurapika. He shoveled a handful into his own mouth and struggled to swallow, grasping at his soda glass and forcing the straw between his lips to help the fries down.

Leorio frequented the diner on rainy days, eating alone and tipping the waitresses well. When Kurapika appeared without warning, sliding into the same booth and driving Leorio closer to the jukebox stationed above the table, Leorio had immediately gotten the impression that he shouldn’t ask any questions or say anything at all. He thought he made the right decision, based mostly on the scowl that pinched Kurapika’s face.

Still, Leorio fought to control himself; he wanted to demand an explanation, but he feared he wouldn’t be able to speak without giving himself away.

Friends or More starters // @vengehunt

Leorio wasn’t sure how exactly they ended up on the boardwalk, standing in silence, elbows brushing. They’d left the restaurant and agreed to walk, aimlessly navigating, impulsively turning. The glimmer of moonlight on the gentle ocean caught them both, so there they lingered, cheeks caressed by salt spray and sea breeze alike.

He could feel his heartbeat in his throat, each pulse like knots tightening, forcing him to swallow. His plans had been flimsy at best, but he was more of a coward than he thought. When the waiter had offered them wine, Leorio stumbled over the words, allowing Kurapika to sweep in with perfect pronunciation - and a lighthearted jab at his expense. Each time Leorio considered speaking up, he instead sipped his drink until his head was light and his thoughts scarce. He felt the flush of his cheeks and was thankful for the camouflage.

There, by the sea, Leorio stared not at the ocean but at Kurapika, at the starlight strung on stray strands of hair, at the paleness that rivaled the moon’s, the clearness of eyes and steady stare that could kill or captivate.

Kurapika turned, and Leorio didn’t react, rendered sluggish by the wine. He swallowed in response and faced the waves, watched them crash onto the sand and spill their foam. His muscles grew taut, and without answering, he dropped into a crouch, knees popping, and slipped off his shoes and socks.

He bore a new grin that surely complemented the heightened blush. “I’m a little warm,” he said, and the lie was foolish; late autumn delved into winter’s territory, and Leorio retained the woolen scarf around his neck.

Before Kurapika could reply, Leorio vaulted himself over the railing of the boardwalk and landed, rather gracefully, on the dry sand. He tilted his head to gaze back up at Kurapika, smiled at the way the wind made him ethereal and distant. “Care to join me, or are you too afraid to get your toes wet?”