LeoPika short stories and one shots!

Rescued

TW: this chapter contains gore and depictions of torture. No actual torture happens on screen but we deal closely with the aftermath and there's some vivid imagery.

Leorio threw the car into park, and didn't even bother pulling out the keys before jumping out and running toward the building.

"Oi! You left the door open!" The rest of Killua's complaints were lost due to the distance.

Leorio shouldered his way through the front doors and face butted the man guarding it. Without even breaking stride he adopted the fallen man's weapon and stole his jacket.

Leorio kicked down a door and pointed the stolen gun at the lady at the desk. "Blond man. Red eyes. Where is he?"

The woman smacked the gun and roundhouse kicked toward his face. Leorio swerved, and punched the lady so hard that she slid across the floor when she fell. Unconscious.

The monitor was live security footage. It wasn't hard to find where they were keeping him. The desk had a ring of keys in the drawer.

The elevator ride to the forth underground level was slow. Each second made Leorio more tense. As soon as the elevator dinged open, he was on the move. He counted through each room, taking turns down the hallways and backtracking toward -404.

There were two guards posted outside the room, and Leorio shot one and punched the other with his gun, absolutely demolishing his face. Leorio stowed the gun and fumbled out the keys. One. No luck. Two, nothing. Third time's the charm!

The door swung open to show a filthy room. The smell almost made Leorio hide his face. The walls were bare and cold, the floor was rough concrete, and there was mildew in the corners. No windows. No vent. Only a small man leaning against the back wall, his arms chained together at the elbow behind his back.

Kurapika was filthy. He was naked, malnourished, and covered in vomit. His hair was matted and stuck snugly beneath a bandage blindfold. The once creamy white skin was bruised with splotches of purple and blue. His clothing was torn and discarded, some here, scraps there, the elastic bands of his bloomers resting at his ankles just above the manacles clasped there.

When he heard the door open, he tried to close his legs, but he winced and tears leaked through the blindfold. "No." His voice was barely a whisper.

"Kurapika." Leorio said breathlessly as he ran to him. He hesitated. He didn't know where to touch him.

"Please. It hurts." Kurapika whispered. He turned his face away. "I'm not ready."

"No, no, Kurapika it's me, it's Leorio." He put a hand gently against his cold face.

"Leorio?" He tried to pull away. "Don't look at me."

"I'm getting you out of here." Leorio pulled out the keys and started fiddling with the lock of his collar. The third key opened it.

When the heavy metal fell away, Kurapika took a deep and labored breath. He coughed and hacked, spitting blood and phlegm. Leorio could see each muscle in his abdomen that clenched as spasmed as he evicted the buildup in his lungs.

Leorio quickly freed his arms and feet, then carefully draped the stolen jacket over his frail body. He reached for the bandage over Kurapika's eyes, but he jerked away.

"No. No. It's hideous." Kurapika muttered, vocal chords still broken.

Leorio stopped wasting time and pulled the small man into his arms. Kurapika cried out in pain as his body was moved, and Leorio never stopped apologizing. Even as he stood and fled the room, he was muttering his apologies as Kurapika continued to cry.