Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Hey Illumi, do you remember the first time we met? You were on stage, caught up in the electric atmosphere, and looking out into the crowd. I always thought we locked eyes, but with the blinding lights that were pointed at your face, that remains nothing but wishful thinking. 

Hisoka always found himself drawn to the stars. With their piercing, blinding white light, they demanded attention. He couldn’t keep his eyes off them. He wanted to be one. He wanted to surround himself with them. Creating his own little constellation. 

Illumi Zoldyck was a star. 

The year previous he’d shot to the top of the charts with his hit single “Bubblegum”, a sickly sweet pop tune perfect for clubbing. The song was catchy, sure, but what truly drew people in was Illumi’s raspy, feminine vocals and unnaturally good looks. 

Truth be told, Hisoka disliked his music. It was overproduced and auto-tuned to remove the imperfect aspects of Illumi’s voice. The end result was soulless, which ironically drew in as many souls as possible. 

The man’s beauty made up for his lackluster music. He had one of those faces you could never forget; with his large, black eyes swirling with detachment, his pouty lips, and silky black hair that flowed past his ass. 

It was no secret that Hisoka found the man elusive. He gushed on and on to his minimal friends—which included aspiring musician Machi Komacine, and well in all honesty, everybody else he talked to was merely an acquaintance—about how he would find a way to make Illumi his. Whether that be as a friend, for, or lover.

They’d brushed him off as a “fanboy” and “groupie”. He was far from both; he would never stoop so low as to wait around outside of venues begging for an autograph and professing his adoration for the man

No, he was going to find a way to enter Illumi’s world as an equal, or draw him in by other means.He was every bit of a star as he was, and nothing was going to stop him from proving that..

Backstage passes, blinding stars, drugs, sex, and an elite status. That was the world Hisoka Morrow sought.

Illumi Zoldyck was going to give it to him.

Hisoka had a multi-step skincare routine; each night, he spent half an hour slathering his face with different creams and oils, washing dirt, grime, and makeup off from the day. He did this with a radio set up on the counter, playing his favorite pop hits station.

There was comfort in routine. Especially a routine that was never broken. Nothing could disrupt that idyllic time.

Except for an announcement from the broadcast host.

“Coming up next is the hit single ‘Bubblegum’ by Illumi Zoldyck. Tickets to his January 1st show in Kumamoto go on sale THIS FRIDAY at 10am. Don’t miss your chance to see this piping hot, rising star LIVE,” The host announced, excitedly shouting on the important words.

Hisoka sprung up, in nothing but a bathrobe and a face covered with a puke green mask, and ran to the living room, where his roommate, Machi Komacine, sat on the couch with her one night stand. He slipped over his words, panting excitedly.

“Slow down,” Machi said. “What did you say?”

“Illumi Zoldyck is playing a show, HERE.” It was uncommon for major artists to stop in their town for shows. “We have to go.”

“What day is it?” Machi asked. Her hookup was staring up at Hisoka with blank eyes. Either she wasn’t much of an Illumi Zoldyck fan or she was impatiently waiting for Hisoka to leave so her and Machi could get back to whatever they were doing. 

“January 1st, his birthday,” Hisoka said. “I mean, we have to go. If he saw me in the crowd, it would become his best one yet.”

Machi let out a dry laugh. “You think he’s going to take you backstage and sleep with you? Hate to break it to you, but I doubt he’s gay.”

Hisoka smirked. “Oh, he will be if he sees me.”

Machi rolled her eyes. “You always say that.”

Hisoka collapsed onto the couch next to the girls. The hookup was visibly uncomfortable and she leaned closer to Machi. “He’s a pretty boy with long hair. If he’s not gay, it’s a waste of beauty.”

“Some girls like long hair,” The hookup offered. “I used to love long hair on guys.”

“And now you like girls,” Hisoka pointed out. 

Machi sighed. “He’s not going anywhere anytime soon. I think it may be time for you to leave,” She stood and ushered the girl towards the door. “I’ll see you on Friday if my schedule allows it.”

“Okay. Bye!” The girl planted a kiss on Machi’s cheek and began her walk of shame back home. 

Machi went towards the kitchen, starting the kettle and setting out two mugs. 

“You don’t have shit planned for Friday, unless you got a job and didn’t tell me. Bad sex?” Hisoka asked, leaning his head over the backside of the couch. 

“Very,” Machi’s voice held the smallest bit of somberness as she recalled it. “And I have a job.”

“Playing guitar once a month for 3000 yen hardly counts as a job.”

“It gets my name and face out there.”

“So will going to Illumi Zoldyck’s concert. You can impress him and his company with your awesome guitar skills,” Hisoka stated. 

Machi’s nose scrunched up. “As if I’d want to perform shitty pop music. Maybe if he switched genres and did rock or metal.”

The kettle hissed, and she poured the water into the mugs, adding tea bags to each. She sat back down and offered one to Hisoka. 

“Thank you,” Hisoka accepted it. “He would fit in those genres a lot better. He’s too stoic and raspy for pop music.”

“Yeah, well pop is what sells.”

“Why don’t you perform pop music then?” Hisoka asked, swirling the teabag in his cup around.

“I’d rather not sell my soul.”

“Do you think Illumi Zoldyck sold his soul?”

Machi laughed without humor. “His whole family did. Three generations of musical prodigies? Unlikely under normal circumstances.”

That was exactly why Hisoka sought after Illumi’s attention; it would guarantee success, everyone that came in contact with the Zoldycks either suffered a fate worse than death, or was struck with tremendous luck. He intended to be the latter. 

If he could find his way into this elusive, sparkling world where he stood among A-Listers, his life would be complete. He wouldn’t have to worry about jumping from shitty low-paying job to shitty low-paying job just to pay the rent. He would be able to share himself and his creations, garnering his own fame in the process. And best of all, he wouldn’t have to worry about dating a bum that would never satisfy him. He would have a celebrity–ideally a downright gorgeous man with an even more gorgeous singing voice. 

He would have it all in no time at all. 

The line for tickets stretched down the block, bundles of people shaking with excitement and discussing what their favorite song was (the options were limited as Illumi only had a seven-track EP out, but who was complaining?). Illumi’s fans ranged from anywhere from five years old, to in their sixties. Though the largest chunk of his fanbase was teenage girls. 

Machi huffed, sure they were one of the few adults unoccupied by a child in line. “This is ridiculous. We’re way too old to be here,” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“We’re never too old to enjoy music. Cheer up, Machi. I don’t want your negative energy causing us bad luck.” Due to Hisoka’s need to look perfect, they’d made it in line far later than planned, gaining a spot towards the end. Tickets were limited, and it was a first come first serve basis.

Getting tickets in person felt a lot luckier than entering an online lottery for them. He’d also heard word that this place would have better seats.

A boy, two years younger than Hisoka, with messy blonde hair and a singular earring, approached them. He didn’t seem to have any qualms about cutting the line, ignoring the protests that came from those behind them in line. Business came first.

“Hey, Hisoka,” The boy said, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket. 

Hisoka turned around, a grin spreading wide as he forced the boy into a giant, crushing hug. “‘Pika!” he cheered. “I haven’t seen you in forever. What are you doing here?”

The blonde scoffed. “You know I hate it when you call me that. I’m here to buy tickets,” His tone was flat, like it was the most obvious answer in the world.

“I thought you didn’t like Illumi Zoldyck’s music?”

“You don’t need to call him by his full name, nobody else is named Illumi.”

“It feels wrong to refer to him by first name only. Mega-famous, hot people have to be referred to with first and last names. I don’t make the rules.”

Kurapika and Machi rolled their eyes in unison. “I don’t like his music. I’m hoping I’ll be able to see him after the show and ask if his label is looking for new artists,” he answered the previous questions.

“It seems like you both want to meet him after the show,” Machi noted.

“Well, unfortunately for Kurapika here, I’ll be the one meeting Illumi. Besides, his label won’t hire a measly bassist.”

Kurapika’s eyes narrowed. “I sing too.”

“You better hope you’re not better than Illumi. I’ve heard his parents are freaks that will do anything for them to be the most successful,” Machi said.

“Who are you again?” Kurapika glared.

“Machi Komacine. I play the guitar.”

“So do I,” Kurapika said. “Most real musicians know more than one instrument. I just prefer the bass.”

Machi gave Hisoka a look that said your friend is an asshole before switching over to respond to Kurapika. “I was classically trained growing up. I also know how to play the harp. Anybody can play an instrument with four strings, but not everyone can play one that has 47.”

Kurapika sighed, accepting defeat. “I apologize for my rudeness. I get defensive when I sense someone trying to interfere with my goals.”

Machi hummed a reply.

The line was moving quickly and they neared the front. 

“Awww, I love when my friends become friends,” Hisoka pulled them both into a group hug, causing them to push him away.

“Gross,” They said in unison, cracking small smiles at each other once they realized.

They made it to the front. “You’re in luck,” The clerk said, presenting three tickets. “These are my last ones.”

Hisoka examined them, praying they were good seats. His eyes went wide. “FRONT ROW?” He exclaimed. People behind him groaned, realizing their attempts at great seats had dwindled yet again.

“Yep. The random selection worked in your favor today. Though only two of those are in the front row. The third is somewhere on Row G.”

“Machi and I will take the front row seats,” Hisoka declared. Kurapika frowned. “It’s only fair since we got here first.”

Kurapika didn’t argue with that and accepted his shitty ticket. 

Hisoka set the remaining bits of his savings on the table and accepted the ticket. Machi did the same, and Kurapika who actually possessed a stable, full-time job, swiped his card. 

“I hope you enjoy the show,” The ticket seller said. He hung up a CLOSED sign, much to the dismay of those still in line. 

As they left, Hisoka waved his front row tickets tauntingly towards those who’d gotten nothing. “Are you looking to get your ass kicked?” A guy yelled at him with his fist up. Hisoka  didn’t pay the man any mind; he was an overweight father trying to act tough in front of the young girls in line. It wouldn’t have been much of a fight. 

He took one last gaze at the tickets before pocketing them. Illumi Zoldyck was now in reach. 

Hisoka threw himself into side gigs and part time jobs in anticipation for the concert. He would need an outfit that showcased his expensive taste; something that would please a spoiled nepotism baby who didn’t understand what it was like to not have everything handed to him.

He worked at a bakery in the mornings, cashiered during the night, and did the hair of broke university students who couldn’t afford anything better on weekends.

It hadn’t been long since he graduated from cosmetology school, but finding a salon that would allow him to lean into a more alternative style rather than sticking to simple blowouts had bordered on impossible.

Every so often he’d have a client who wanted something fresh and “punk-rock” as they described it and he was given artistic freedom to turn them into the emo of their dreams. He toyed with layers and colors. Trying out new techniques and tossing out the ones he learned in cosmetology school.

If he wanted to stand out, conventional methods weren’t going to cut it.

He sent every client away with his business card and made them promise to spread the word about his services. He set up posters around town and camped outside salons trying to persuade customers to let him cut their hair instead (this had resulted in several salon owners yelling at him and banning him from the property).

His most loyal client was himself, and when December 31st rolled around, it was time for a major makeover.

He set up shop in the bathroom, laying out an assortment of scissors, clips, and brushes. Box dye sat on the corner on his sink—even with his professional training, he gravitated towards what was quick and cheap. Besides, box dye had never done him wrong.

He had been in desperate need of a touchup; blonde sprouted from his roots and his formerly vibrant red had turned into a dusty, unflattering pink color. This time he would do a bright, firetruck red all over, with maroon tips. 

He was halfway through applying the first color all over when Machi walked in. 

“Kurapika offered to drive us to the venue,” She said, not looking up from her phone. 

“Yeah, I know,” Hisoka didn’t stop applying the product. “He texted me earlier. I told him no.”

Machi lowered the toilet lid and sat on it. “Why?”

“He’s a shitty driver. Besides, the roads will be packed. This is the biggest event this town has ever seen. We’ll take the train.”

“The trains will be just as packed.”

“We’ll leave early then.”

Machi sighed, deciding to drop the topic and switch to what she originally came into the room to say. “Can you do my hair?”

Hisoka paused, looking over at her. For as long as he had known her, she rocked long, cerulean hair that touched her hips. He’d offered to give her a makeover when they first met, yet she refused, claiming she was fine with her look.

“What’s with the sudden desire for a change?” He asked, resuming his process. 

“I just want a fresh look, that’s all. I blend in with the hair I have now.”

Hisoka laughed. “Babe, you could never blend in with blue hair.”

She stared at the products on the counter. “I want pink hair with spiky layers.”

Hisoka’s eyes glittered, an image of her new look entering his mind. “You’ll look beautiful with that. I might have to take you on a date after.”

“Haha,” She deadpanned. “Will you do it or not?”

“Of course,” He rummaged under the sink, finding a few half-empty bottles from his pink hair phase. 

A few hours later their hair littered the floor and their hair was vibrant and eye-catching. Hisoka had begun to freestyle on Machi’s hair, adding a raccoon tail with a bit of black. He looked great, but she blew it out of the water.

Machi ruffled up her hair, moving strands until it was satisfactory. “Not bad,” That was the closest thing to a compliment he’d get from her.

An Illumi Zoldyck concert meant one thing; hundreds of eager fans waiting impatiently at the venue doors, tickets in hand, and adorned in their best clothes.

Hisoka was one of those people. He’d whipped out his sluttiest shirt, which was mesh and revealing two gold nipple piercings, and shorts that left nothing to the imagination. His jewelry was gold, flashy, and grabbed your attention upon first glance. It was an outfit carefully crafted to elicit as much attention and desire as possible. His heels were also emerald green; Illumi’s favorite color. 

He’d spent hours perfecting his look, much to the chagrin of Machi and Kurapika who were in a rush to get to the venue and find parking. Kurapika in particular had a way of being uptight and annoying about anything he wanted to do. If it came to punctuality–or even attendance–for something Hisoka wanted to do, the man was unapologetic about the lack of fucks he gave. 

While those two hadn’t spent hours on their appearance, they still looked wonderful. Machi’s hair was stunning, looking even better the second day post-dye and cut. Kurapika, who usually sported casual wear, had done himself up in his nicest clothes and wore a ruby earring that glittered under the night sky.

A chill wind was in the air, causing Hisoka to shiver. While his outfit was appropriate for a room temperature venue where he’d be pressed closely to others and dancing without a care in the world, it was a poor choice for chilly January weather. 

Machi, who’d also dressed lightly in a muscle tank and jean shorts, lit a cigarette for an added warmth. Her and Kurapika passed it back and forth until it was a nub crushed underneath Machi’s leather boot.

Hisoka had spent the better part of an hour gushing over Illumi, discussing the what-ifs and attempting to manifest his desires into reality.

He’d been tuned out almost immediately. At this point, he’d become a broken record. Illumi, Illumi, Illumi. Adjectives pertaining to his good looks being used frequently. To anyone besides Hisoka, that was the most boring topic in the world.

When Machi and Kurapika ignored him, he turned to those behind him in line. They were young, no older than sixteen, covered in sparkles and shimmering eye makeup, and having similar crushes on the man.

Hisoka let them know they had no chance; they were simply too young, but they held onto hope that he’d notice them.

It seemed all Illumi Zoldyck fans were the same.

He bid a farewell to the girls once they entered the building. The arena was packed; a sold out show. It smelled of sweat, hairspray, and cheap perfume. Hundreds of bodies bumped into each other, not a single “excuse me” being uttered. Yet nobody minded; the air was crackling with excitement and most of the town was out simply for this event. Those who failed to get tickets sat outside the venue, hoping they’d hear the music once the show started.

They took their seats at the front. The stage was practically in reach. Illumi would only be a few feet from him in due time; the thought alone made Hisoka’s heart jump.

The lights dimmed, quieting the chatter within the audience. A young man with strikingly good looks and an acoustic guitar made his way to the center. 

Next to him, Machi gasped. “I know him.”

Both men turned to look at her. “We were friends in secondary school. Chrollo Lucilfer.”

The man on stage confirmed this. “Hello everyone! In case you didn’t know, I’m Chrollo and I’ll be performing for you tonight. It’s my first major show and I’m glad I’m spending it with all of you.”

The crowd roared with excitement; lights were waved around and fists were pumped in the air. 

Chrollo laughed. “Thank you all for the warm welcome. I don’t want to keep you here for too long so let’s let the music begin, shall we?”

The crowd screamed until their lungs gave out and he began his song. 

“He’s hot,” Hisoka noted. “Incredibly charming too.”

“And painfully straight,” Machi added. “He’s a good friend though. I’ll have to catch up with him eventually.”

“Why not after the show?” Kurapika asked.

“It’s his first show. I doubt he’ll have the time to reminisce with a friend from years ago.”

Hisoka hummed before turning his attention to the man on stage. He had to scope out anyone that attempted to make themselves known. If Chrollo was good enough, he’d make it onto Hisoka’s list of prospects. 

Unfortunately for Chrollo, he was talented. His voice was smooth as butter and full of emotion. When he was singing, he was almost taking on the role of someone. Tonight he was a heartbroken lover. 

Fortunately for Illumi, he wasn’t blessed with prodigy genetics. His guitar skills were limited and simple, nothing compared to the complex rhythms and riffs Illumi pulled off whenever a song called for it (which wasn’t often).

If things fell through with Illumi, Chrollo would make a fine backup choice. Hisoka would nurture his potential and make him a bigger star than Illumi was.

Chrollo finished his song, rambling on to finish his stage time.

“He’s good,” Kurapika noted. 

“He’s better than good,” Machi said. “Sometimes his talent pisses me off.”

“Y’know, he plays the guitar a lot like you, Machi,” Hisoka commented.

She snorted. “Who do you think taught him how to play?”

“You must be a terrible teacher since he’s very good at it,” Hisoka said, mostly to rile her up.

“I never said I was good at it. Playing and teaching are two very different things.”

“Does it piss you off that your student is onstage playing for a huge crowd, while you’re watching him from said crowd?” Hisoka asked, a mocking sparkle in his eyes.

She rolled her eyes, not taking the bait. “Did he pass your strange test?”

“Very much so. I would love to turn him into my own creation. We could do magical things together. Though I’m already committed to Illumi. How sad,” As he said this, he imagined a future where Chrollo rocked every stage in Japan, with Hisoka by his side. He would turn Chrollo from a dopey, whining musician who had the nerve to wear a sweater on stage, into fierce, untouchable, and rocking Hisoka’s styled outfits.

He wished he could have it all. Style every musician he deemed worthy, but that was plain greedy. He already got to do Machi’s hair, he should’ve been happy with that. But Hisoka was not the type of person to be satisfied with anything. 

Chrollo introduced Illumi, and there he was, right in front of him, looking as beautiful as ever. It was almost luck that the one show played in his town, that Illumi wore a leather jacket. It was something so simple, but it fit Illumi better than anything he’d worn before.

More of this Illumi was what Hisoka wanted to see; dark and brooding.

The girls surrounding Hisoka’s group were also fans of this new change in appearance. They gushed in hushed tones, as if he could hear them over the crowd’s constant screaming. 

After a few failed attempts to gain the crowd’s attention, they finally quieted, allowing him to talk. 

Hisoka didn’t hear a word he said because their eyes locked and suddenly it was just the two of them. 

Well, he wanted to see it that way. He thought Illumi was looking at him so he plastered on his most dashing smile and fought the urge to wave his fingers at the man. He had to play it cool. You don’t gain the attention of your favorite pop star by acting desperate and pathetic. Everybody knows that. 

Illumi looked away in an instant, if he was even looking at him at all. It was hard to tell with the blinding lights. Hisoka didn’t know what it was like to be onstage. Could you even see your adoring fans from up there?

He hoped so.

He rode the buzz of Illumi’s attention throughout the whole performance. It made him razor sharp and completely fixated on what unfolded in front of him. 

The concert simultaneously lasted forever and ended before he knew it.

Illumi gave a farewell, leaving his fans awestruck and debriefing the night. Hisoka stood in silence, absorbing everything that had happened, and attempting to imprint it in his memory forever.

“I’m going to wait for him,” He said after a moment.

Machi and Kurapika stared at him, eyebrows raised. “I’m leaving,” Kurapika said. “I have work in the morning.”

Hisoka focused his attention on Machi. “Do you want to wait around with me? Maybe Chrollo will show up.”

She brushed him off. “Like I said, I doubt he has the time for me. Plus I’m tired,” She yawned. 

“Okayyy.” Hisoka sang. 

They waved goodbye to him and made their way out of the concert hall.

When everyone had cleared out, Hisoka made his way out back, leaning against the building's wall and waited.

He would spend his life waiting for Illumi. 

You never told me if you did see me in the crowd, Illumi.