Rumors

The first time Illumi hears of Hisoka's death, he doesn't believe them. People will lie, they will gossip, try to sound like they know everything this world has to offer and cajole others to think the same. They'll spread foregoing word around like the plague. Make sure it will get into social medias and newspapers.

R.I.P, Hisoka

Love you forever, Hisoka

In Loving Memory of Hisoka

Hisoka is strong, inordinately so. Most who stand in his path will fall.

So, no. He doesn't listen.

The second time is redundant. Well, not exactly second. He hears it all over the streets. He hears it floating around gathered hunters.

"Hey, that crazy hunter dude, Hisoka? Heard he died."

He hears it from every news station. Sees it on every celebrity magazine and inane blog. Feels it, for Hisoka has not come back ho - to their shared apartment.

In the Troupe meeting, the third one that month, Chrollo is smiling. He is happy with the recent rumor. Phinks and Feitan, too. They grin and laugh and say how it was long-awaited. Funny how this little piece of information - as unofficial as it is - can create such a change in moods around the table.

Illumi's stomach churns slightly. It's dumb, really. Listening to rumors - not even proven - is stupid. Something only Hisoka takes part in. And suddenly, his mood sours. He'd throw a needle into their he-

Hisoka is stupid.

The third time - if it could be considered as such; he's heard a lot -, Illumi hears it from Killua and even Alluka, also ecstatic that the creepy clown -

"I'm a magician, Illu. Not a clown," Hisoka says.

"You could've fooled me."

  - is no longer around. Illumi is trailing them, following the duo only for Killua, not the one with, never her. He wants Killua back home. But, hearing the joy in his tone makes him retreat. Maybe later.

He's not one for gossip. Not really. But he can't help but think, six months since the first rumor circulated around, nearly seven since the man's disappearance, about his supposed "lover."

About his abrupt disappearing act. About his death. About his empty spot of the bed every morning he awakens there. About his favorite mug still in the cupboard, unused, stuck in the back corner, neglected. About his sweet-smelling shampoo in their shower. About each and every kiss he laid upon Illumi's being.

He's at...their home-like apartment. There with Hisoka's empty spot, with his favorite mug, with his sweet shampoo, with the memory he's left behind. And he cries.

Silent. Sudden. Alone. Exactly like Hisoka's death.

Hisoka misses his birthday.

Hisoka misses his own birthday.

Hisoka misses the first colored leaves falling from the trees.

Hisoka misses Halloween.

Hisoka misses the first snow of the season.

Hisoka misses Christmas.

Hisoka misses New Years Eve, New Years Day.

Hisoka misses the day they'd first met, on the cold, starry night after a successful assassination.

He misses Hisoka.

Days blend into weeks, mundane. Weeks blend into months, dreadful. Months turn into one year, and Hisoka Morrow's name still hasn't been erased from his memory, nor his heart. Funny, how this little piece of information - as unofficial as it is - can make him realize just how much Hisoka truly means to him. Each sweet kiss planted upon his body, each mischievous giggle that escaped his lips, each irritating comment said only to irk him, each flattering compliment and each "I love you" brought up with soft, uncharacteristic tones.

He wonders if they ever found a body, or if they buried an empty coffin.

It's early into the first year when the apartment sees another person, other than Illumi. Dead at night, the window shatters, and he's ready to kill before a single alarm comes on. A thief, maybe. A killer, possible. A dead man?

Definite.

The face he first sees angers him immensely. His nen flares with ardent emotion and heart aches with wishful longing. Illumi isn't one for rumors. No, not really. But Hisoka is dead.

However, when a pin is thrown, a playing card comes back. And his heart cries the tears his eyes can't.

"I love you, Illu, with all my heart," he purrs in the blissful afterglow of sex. In the world where Hisoka is here, with him, in his filled side of the bed and his sweet scent.

"Do you have one?"

"I assure you, my heart is there. Pumping my love for you, alive-,"

"But you are not, Hisoka," he whispers, the image of his lover before him.

"Oh, but I am. Hello, my Illu."

And he cries.

XxxxxX

The first time Illumi hears of Hisoka's sudden and mysterious return from the dead, he's at home. Home with Hisoka and his occupied side of the bed, there when he wakes up. Home with his favorite mug, filled with steaming, french vanilla smelling coffee right on his bedside table. Home with his familiar, sweet-scented hair, inches away from his nose. Home with the mischievous giggles that hint at something bigger and the irksome commentary. Home with the flattering compliments.

Home with the soft "I love you" that tumbles time and time again from Hisoka's mouth right after a kiss is laid upon his person.

Hisoka is not dead. He is home, with Illumi.

This much is true.