Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Killua met Gon, he was unaware that the best years of Gon’s life took place thousands of miles from where he stood on that day, the day Killua met Gon. Gon’s best years took place thousands of days before the moment Killua and Alluka signed a lease for the two bedroom apartment below Gon’s. Gon’s best years took place in a different time, a different place, and an entirely different stage of his life that Killua would never fully grasp.

Killua’s mind was already fuzzy as it was as he was only just now able to recover from the semester. The fall would be three months of breathing room that he so desperately craved. He’d be able to relax after moving in, before starting his Real, Adult Job. December would bring with it an entirely different scenario.

Killua plopped the last of the boxes into the living room with a huff and straightened up. He popped his back and let out a sigh of relief. Meanwhile, Alluka was at the other end of the apartment cracking her neck like a goddamn heathen.

“Shut up,” Killua said.

Alluka put up both arms in defense. “Right, sorry. At least now you won’t have to hear me popping spinal fluid from across the apartment.”

Killua grimaced. He already had a headache from the heat—he really couldn’t deal with more stress on his brain. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Somehow, I’m sure I’ll still be able to hear it,” he said.

Alluka snickered at him and Killua turned away with a roll of his eyes. Just as he was about to kick the damn box into his bedroom, the sound of a body hitting the ground sounded from overhead. When it came again, Killua turned to Alluka, who had froze in terror in her doorway.

The building was ancient, they knew that going into this lease. The wood paneling was all original, as was the built in hutch and any decorative elements on the ceiling mould. The floors, on the other hand, had seen better days. But Killua hadn’t exactly expected their upstairs neighbor to start throwing bodies around. By the sound of it, the floor would give out on the third toss.

“Jesus,” Alluka whispered. “What are they, centaurs? Stomping around with their hooves?” Alluka did a little prance, making clucking noises with her tongue like she was a horse.

“I am not living with that fucking noise all damn year,” Killua said with a sharp jab in the direction of the ceiling.

The instant Killua took a step towards the door, Alluka leapt to stop him. “Oh no you don’t! We’re starting this year right—I’m not going through last year again. I’m making cookies and peace treaties—Killua!”

Alluka started slapping at Killua’s arms and chest, blocking the front door. Killua kicked at her shins and went to snatch Alluka by the wrists. It wasn’t his plan, but he effectively knocked Alluka off her feet for a hot second and, with that off-filtered moment, swept her out of the way and marched to the door. He heard Alluka’s footsteps fast behind him, so he used all his force to yank the door open, only to have Alluka slam it shut by body slamming into Killua’s back.

“Ow, fuck!” Killua cursed. Alluka shoved her hand onto the back of Killua’s head and smothered his cheek into the wood. Killua grunted and tried elbowing the heathen in the rib, at which point another body hit the floor upstairs.

They both glanced up at it. Killua felt the thud in his very soul.

“Move, bitch,” Killua said before elbowing Alluka in the boob.

“Oh, shit,” Alluka grunted, groaning as she staggered back, hands clasped on her chest like she had just been shot.

Killua escaped the apartment and slammed the door behind him. He stepped out towards the railing as the muggy, Midwestern heat weighed on his chest and cocooned him in a thick layer of hot, damp air. He breathed out a curse as he put his hands to the wooden railing and peered up.

The apartment complex was built during some ungodly era in which Killua was grateful he didn’t exist. The original porch stairwell had long since crumbled, and according to the landlord, “This one right here was built just last summer.” Killua didn’t even want to think about the reason why the landlord bit the bullet and built new stairs, all things considered.

Nothing was out of the ordinary, from what Killua could see, so he marched down the side of the brick building, floorboards creaking underneath him, and began his ascent to the third floor of the building.

He circled around the railing and lunged up, two steps at a time, onto the third floor landing. There, he found the windows as open as the front door. Killua slowed at the crack in the door and had the good sense to hesitate because who the Hell left their door open? He looked down at the parking lot, but all that was there was the truck Killua and Alluka rented. No one else was moving in and, therefore, had no reason to prop their doors open like that in this heat.

SLAM.

Killua jumped, only to curse again when Alluka’s voice sounded below. “Killua! Did you hear that?” Alluka whisper-shouted. Killua leant over the railing, only to find Alluka looking straight back up at him.

“Yeah, I just about shat myself,” Killua said, irritated. As if he’d let a rambunctious neighbor make him regret wearing Calvin Klein that day. “I’m going in.”

“Killua, don’t—!” Alluka started, but Killua was already marching towards the half-open door.

Killua wasn’t beneath trespassing, so when he approached the door, he did so with every intent of kicking it in. He slammed the side of his fist into it so hard that the door swung open and smacked straight into a very solid object made very much of bones and flesh. Killua felt the thud like the bass at a frat party, and it was promptly followed by another literal body hitting the floor.

“Holy Mother of God,” Killua swore, a hand slapping to his forehead when he peered around the door and found a dead body on the ground. He turned away, a hand on his hip, and considered what sort of law suit he’d get for breaking and entering on top of knocking a man’s soul straight out of his body via door-punching.

“I’m—alright,” the guy grunted from the ground. Killua spun back around to find the guy lifting himself up onto one elbow, a sizable red circle on his forehead and blood seeping from his nose.

Killua stared in horror as the guy shook his head and blinked open his eyes, like all it would take to recover from a concussion was a fuckton of willpower. Just as Killua considered helping, something white and orange shot out behind Killua to make a getaway through the door.

“C-Catch him!” the guy shrieked.

Killua stuck his foot out. It was instinct, and boy did it work. His foot hooked underneath the stomach of a dog and he nearly punted it had it not face-planted onto the welcome mat. Killua ducked down and snatched the dog up. It was the size of a toddler and weighed about as much as one, so he cradled it to his chest as his new neighbor recovered and staggered to his feet.

“Jesus Christ—and here I thought you consumed an entire refrigerator and decided to go for a jog through your apartment,” Killua said, eyes wide.

The guy touched a hand beneath his nose, sniffling a little. He groaned and moaned, “Ah, I always do that. Reminder not to sniff when you’ve got a bloody nose.” He reached for the dog, who was dazed until the moment Killua shifted to hand it over. It started squirming like its mission in life was to ruin Killua’s shirt. The two of them struggled over the handoff as the guy apologized weakly, “Sorry about the noise…”

Killua was staring at the blood the whole time up until that moment—that exact moment Killua remembered that he was gay as hell. His cheeks flushed pink when that goddamn devil in his head thought, Now he owes me.

“I-It’s fine,” Killua said, just as weak, because fuck, the guy had the physique of some Hollister model straight out of a tanning salon—but then again, the… farmer’s tan definitely reassured Killua that his tan was anything but artificial. Even the pale part of the guy’s tan was darker than Killua’s sunburn.

His bright, brown eyes turned amber in the sunlight when he followed Killua out onto the porch, saying, “Hatsu gets upset when I start packing.”

Killua’s heart plummeted. Well, that explained it. “Packing? Are you moving out then?”

The guy stared at him and Killua wondered if his desperation was showing. “Uh… no, not really. I’m buying tickets to Europe soon. Backpacking for a few months, you know. I just get prematurely excited.”

“Ah,” Killua said.

And then, the guy gasped like there was a dragon behind Killua. Killua jumped, startled, and looked behind him. He didn’t see anything, at first, but then his eyes spied Alluka staring at them from the landing a few steps down, partially obscured by the stairs to the roof. The shiba, Hatsu, started wriggling up a storm. “You—! You two are the new tenants!” the guy shrieked.

Killua put a hand to his heart and said, “Y-Yeah, we are.”

Alluka hopped up then, summoned by their neighbor’s enthusiasm. “Yeah! My name’s Alluka, and this is Killua.”

“Oh, you two are so sweet,” the guy said. “You look so cute together.”

“Oh—we aren’t—” Alluka started.

“I’m gay and this is my sister,” Killua said.

Killua only had himself to blame for the awkward silence that followed. After a moment, though, it was broken by the guy’s brilliant smile as he leant forward and said, “Well, I’m Gon, straight, Taurus, and this is my dog, Hatsu,” Gon said.

“You’re… bleeding from your nose,” Alluka said. Her blue eyes were the size of Mars and they were searching Gon’s eyes like they were in retrograde. “Killua didn’t punch you, did he?”

Killua sighed. “You have such faith in me,” he said.

Gon touched the back of his wrist beneath his nose, checking it for fresh blood. It was scarlet red on his olive skin. Alluka rushed forward, ushering Gon back into his apartment. “Here—Let’s get you cleaned up.” As she followed after him, she turned back and shot a glare in Killua’s direction.

Thus was how Killua met Gon, and how Killua wound up sitting on Gon’s rug while Alluka treated Gon’s wounds. Killua could hear them chattering in the bathroom—Gon whining, “Itai, itai!” and Alluka murmuring, “You’re fine, you’re fine.” Killua glared from where he could see Alluka’s skirt through the open bathroom door while Hatsu the shiba inu begged for attention, pacing to and from the bathroom door.

Alluka marched off to get an ice pack, at which point Gon emerged from the bathroom with a bandage smack dab in the middle of his forehead. It was a blessing that his hair wasn’t in the way—it was spiked up and mused from all of the chaos, and Killua was certain he had never seen anyone’s hair so tall on the top of their head.

“So… how long have you been living here?”

Hatsu was frantically stomping all over Gon’s feet as he walked towards Killua, so naturally, the guy kept tripping over his stupid-ass dog. Killua watched as Gon pranced frantically around his dog to get to Killua and, in doing so, wound up doing a one-footed jive across the carpet while Hatsu nipped at his ankles. Killua didn’t realize he was smiling until his cheeks hurt. He put his hands to his cheek to silence the very loud, very embarrassing emotion slipping through the cracks of his stoicism.

“About—two—years—Christ, Hatsu.” Gon swiped Hatsu up before hunkering down. Hatsu was, by no means, a small dog. In fact, Hatsu was full grown and clearly a handful and a half for a medium-sized dog.

The front door was still wide open, and Killua could feel the hot, muggy breeze drifting in to tousle his hair, the open book on the couch, and the papers on the coffee table. With Hatsu effectively shut up and stilled in Gon’s lap, Gon went into depth.

“I graduated this past May, but I’ve been here since I was a junior. Chrollo—I mean, you probably know him by Lucilfer—he shaves down the rent price after the first year if there aren’t any damages to the unit, so I’m using the extra cash to travel abroad. He’s really just looking for longterm tenants.”

“Yeah, my sister’s starting school this fall so we might be here a while,” Killua confessed, looking back to the kitchen as Alluka emerged with an ice pack in hand.

“Where were you last year?” Gon said, and it was teasingly accusatory—as if Killua could have snatched the second floor apartment then rather than now.

Alluka crouched down and handed Gon the ice pack. He pressed it flat across the straight bridge of his nose where Killua swore he saw a bit of swelling. “We were on the other side of campus. Killua was a student so we got a discount,” Alluka explained and followed up with a roll of her eyes. “And also because our parents help out with rent.”

“That’s nice of them,” Gon said, voice stuffy. “I’ll have to introduce you guys to the others. I’m glad you two are my neighbors.”

While Killua wondered what that meant, Alluka grimaced a little and jabbed her thumb in Killua’s direction. “Really? I find that hard to believe after he nearly took you to an early grave.”

“He wouldn’t have died,” Killua said dully, rolling his eyes. He really didn’t need to see the look on Gon’s face in that moment, and he was grateful he didn’t, especially considering the next few words that flew out of that guy’s mouth.

“I live my life on the edge anyway, so if I die via Killua slamming a door in my face, I don’t think I could be mad,” he said. Killua put a hand to his face and thought, Ai caramba. “Though, I can’t say the same for my Aunt. She’d probably sue.”

Alluka shrugged nonchalantly. “Sounds fair. We should probably leave you to it—we’ve got to finish unpacking, you’ve gotta finish packing, ipso facto—”

“Yeah, yeah, the guy hears ya,” Killua said, waving his hand about on his way to his feet. He took Alluka by the wrist as he went, steering them towards the open door.

“It was nice meeting you guys! Visit any time!” Gon called after them, swaying so far back he tipped over with Hatsu in his arms.

Killua was quick to scamper down the stairs and back to their own little hovel in the three-story building. As he went, Alluka giggled behind him, skirt swishing in the breeze. At the second floor landing, Killua turned back, a hand on the railing, blocking her in with a sneer as he caught her smiling like the devil she was. “Do I want to know why you’re cackling like a maniac?” he said.

She hopped to the bottom step, within arms reach of Killua’s threatening smile. She swished her skirt to and fro and said, “You know exactly what I’m cackling about. Now get a move on—I need AC! My blood’s too thick for this heat.”

Killua blamed his own heat intolerance on that same fact. As a born and raised East Coast northerner, Killua had a less-than-healthy relationship with the late summer heatwaves that decimated the Midwest. As he and Alluka unpacked their boxes, he dreaded going back outside to return the truck. Despite the back being entirely empty, they took it for a stroll around the city for groceries and takeout pizza, which they deposited in the fridge and took two slices to go on the return route back to the moving truck facility. They were without bus passes, without cars, and without any means of fast transportation, so they walked as far as they dared in the general direction of home.

The street was quiet, sidewalk-less, and lined on either end by commercial buildings and company warehouses. Killua could still taste the pepperoni on his tongue when he pulled his phone out of his pocket for the first time that day. With a groan, he addressed the long list of missed calls. “Illumi called. He better not be tracking my phone.”

“Call him back and tell him he can go to Hell,” Alluka offered.

“Yeah, and get my ass kicked? No thank you. I’ll pass on that,” Killua said with a scoff.

Alluka rolled her eyes. “Yeah, because he can totally kick your ass all the way from Boston. Get real.”

Killua laughed as he pulled up the texts from Illumi inquiring about moving in. He updated their brother, however reluctantly. He figured it would be better overall if he answered the damn idiot. He wouldn’t put it past Illumi to buy the first ticket to Minneapolis just to come knocking at their door wondering if Killua died.

Killua thought about what Gon had said, about introducing Alluka and Killua to the other tenants. They were on the second floor, which meant that someone also had to live below them. It was another two bedroom apartment, according to Lucilfer the landlord, but Killua couldn’t be sure if there were other tenants. The first floor consisted of another add-on, and on top of that, Killua was certain that he had seen a door to the basement from the other end of the house with an apartment number on it.

He figured he’d meet them, some day, but for now… he had to spend a few days in mourning over the fact that his hot neighbor was straight. He’d get over it—eventually.

Chapter Text

A knock sounded on the front door early in the morning following Killua and Alluka’s move-in day. Killua startled awake with a gasp. He had plenty of scarring wake-up calls back on the East Coast, and unlike whoever was at the door, Alluka knew not to startle him awake. It made him a light sleeper, though, which meant that Alluka completely slept through the incessant knocking.

Killua jerked out of bed, tangled in his sheets, and cursed up a storm as he floundered to the door. The second floor apartment was technically a single, but the old fashioned dining room was easily converted into a bedroom, what with the AC unit in the window and the wide space off of the hall to the kitchen. But that also meant that the room came without a proper door, so Killua yanked the curtain aside.

He tangled himself in the curtain on his way to the door. He caught the handle and heaved it open, cursing, “What the fuck do you want—”

He looked up with a scowl. In an instant, he withered with guilt at the sight of Gon standing there, smiling, and bruising around the eyes. “Oh, shit…” Killua started.

Gon pointed to the floor. Killua looked down and found Hatsu staring up at him, panting. “We’re off to get coffee. Do you want anything? Or you could just come with—I could use the company,” Gon said.

“But—Dude, your face…” Killua started, dreadfully, because shit, he really did ruin the face of the best looking guy in the apartment. He hadn’t met anyone else, and he was impartial to dudes obviously older than him (sorry Lucilfer, no discounted rent for Killua), but he was convinced that no one could top Gon’s good looks and killer smile.

Gon put a hand to the bridge of his nose and said, “Oh, this? I can still walk, you know. Coffee or no?”

Well, I’m already up… he thought.

He sighed and turned away, muttering, “Sure, hang on.”

He went to his bedroom, leaving the door open for Gon to meander inside. Gon lingered in the foyer while Killua disappeared dramatically behind his bedroom curtain-door and emerged a few moments later wearing a pair of high-top sneakers and loose basketball shorts. As for the sweatshirt, well… he’d deal with the consequences of the heat later. For now, it was cloudy, sixties, and tolerable.

Killua marched past Gon and out the front door, key in hand. The state of the living room wasn’t exactly perfect and he felt embarrassed about the fact that he clearly didn’t appear to have his life together. The last thing he needed was for Gon to see his protein powder collection and assume he was some sort of dude-bro.

From the looks of it, Gon either A) had a wicked metabolism and therefore didn’t work out or B) was a runner. He had the lean but solid stature of a runner, and on top of that, he owned a goddamn shiba. That shit was made for burning energy, and by the looks of it, Gon could use a high-energy pup to wear him out.

Gon led the way down the stairs, saying, “I feel like we got off on the wrong foot.”

“You don’t say,” Killua deadpanned. He circled around the landing and chased after Hatsu’s fluffy tail to the parking lot as he added, “I’ve made worse first impressions, though. I’m surprised you even came knocking.”

“Well, the others don’t usually like the company until they’ve had a shot or two,” Gon explained. Killua raised his eyebrows, at which point Gon stopped on the sidewalk, turned, and clarified: “Espresso shots, I mean.”

“Ah,” Killua said.

“Are you a morning person?”

Killua shrugged. “After a shot or two.”

“Of espresso?”

“I could go either way,” he confessed. It would be a lie if he said he never once started the day with a shot of alcohol before. He found that it was easier for him to make it through a rough midterm vaguely tipsy—he generally did better than expected that way. “I perform better on a shot of gin.”

“In what way,” Gon snickered and, quite literally, wiggled his eyebrows. Killua was certain that he had never seen such a feat with a pair of eyebrows before.

The existential crisis Killua had the night before came back full force in the form of a blush. “S-School, dumbass!” he said. “When I’m drunk on gin I speak fluent French. I was a French major—minored in business.”

“You’re kidding,” Gon gasped. He fell in step with Killua, letting Hatsu lead the way as he pointed a finger to himself and said, “I was in the liberal arts, too! Language, actually. I studied Italian.”

“I’m surprised we never had a class together.”

“Yeah, well, I was kind of a dumbass so I don’t blame you for not interacting,” Gon confessed, rolling his eyes. “If all goes well, I’m planning on moving to Italy. To teach English.”

“Oh really? I hope you don’t have to be hammered for that.”

“Oh, no, Italian is my first language,” Gon said, waving his hands. “I’ve been thinking in Italian since I was a kid, but that doesn’t exactly keep it fresh. They don’t exactly offer it as an option in most Minnesota schools, though. Honestly, that’s probably why my aunt moved us here.”

“What’s so wrong with Italian?” Killua said. He was familiar with holding grudges, but they were all against people. He never once held a grudge against an entire language.

“Well, for one, my dad still lives in Italy, and two, my aunt hates his guts and says che preferirebbe vederlo marcire all’inferno. So trips back to Italy are a no-go.”

Killua was still reeling from the abrupt switch that had turned Gon into some goddamn spokesperson for charismatic beauty. Sure, he heard Italian before—he’d seen The Godfather, he wasn’t entirely uncultured—but never so close to the open wound on his heart where an arrow engraved with Gon’s name had pierced straight through him.

Another reason why he was into the language majors: Most of the guys wound up being gay, or at the very least, bi. Alas, Gon was an anomaly.

They walked to the nearest Caribou Coffee on the corner of the street. It was a wide building with high, vaulted ceilings and open windows. Killua could smell the spices from across the road as he said, “This is my—”

“Caribou’s my favorite coffee shop,” Gon said.

They looked at one another. Killua was certain his own eyes had never been so wide in his life—except… maybe for that one time Alluka surprised him in Minneapolis for her college tour.

Killua turned away, rubbing a hand over his head of fluffy white hair. Gon laughed and filled the silence with an amused, “Seems we have a lot in common.”

“Having preferred coffee shops in common doesn’t really qualify,” Killua said.

Gon started ticking everything off on his hands, as if Killua wasn’t already miserable about being the only gay one here. “Similar majors, bilingual, same coffee, same height—”

“Hey, okay, not the same height,” Killua said, and to prove it, they compared heights against the poster wall. After ordering—Killua and his double shot chai, and Gon with his order of four entire drinks—Killua flattened Gon’s spiky hair down, marking the top of a band poster. Likewise, Gon did the same for him, and when Killua checked the mark… it was indeed on the same spot.

Killua turned a scowl onto Gon, who beamed back, bright eyes turning amber in the early morning sunlight. “You repulse me,” Killua said, and nearly regretted it. Not everyone could pick up on his dry humor.

Thankfully, Gon knew how to play along. He fake-whined and moaned, “Aw, sii gentile! Don’t say that. You love me.”

Killua was saved by the barista calling his name. He left Gon, face red-hot and sweating at the sound of Gon’s smooth moves. He loathed himself for being so ridiculous, so he made a pact then and there with himself. He wouldn’t, from this day forward, let Gon get to him.

They could still be friends, right? He could be friends with a guy.

When Gon’s order was called up, Gon fetched the carrier with Hatsu at his side and together, the three of them marched back to the apartment. As they went, Gon prattled on about this-or-that, but mostly, he was eager to introduce Killua to the other tenants.

“We’re all super close. We have an apartment group chat that you and Alluka should be put on,” Gon explained as Killua sipped his tea and felt his tongue go numb from all of the spices and the heavy-handed espresso. Just how he liked it.

Killua sighed and said, “I’m not super into texting. I really just use my phone to keep in touch with my brother.”

“You have a brother? Older or younger?”

“Both, but I really only talk to my older brother,” he said with yet another long, dejected sigh. “He’s psychotic so I gotta make sure he doesn’t kill anyone.”

Gon laughed good-naturedly, but at the look on Killua’s face, he cleared his throat and stammered, “O-Oh, you’re serious. That’s… alarming.”

“You’re telling me. At least you don’t have to deal with him,” Killua said, thinking about that time Illumi almost punched his prom date in the throat.

He shook the visual from his head and it floated off into space. “But anyway, he’s in Boston so I don’t have to deal with him as much anymore. If he visits, it’s usually not for more than a weekend and never on holidays.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because he doesn’t believe in holidays. And also plane trips are cheaper on non-holiday weekends,” Killua said.

“He doesn’t—Is that even a thing? All holidays exist.”

“I should say that he doesn’t believe in celebrating them.”

“Ah, okay, that makes a bit more sense. Still, that sounds like a sad life. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t celebrate all the holidays with my aunt.” Gon tipped his head to the side, the drink carrier swinging at his side. “We don’t have a huge family—due to the whole… ‘Vai all’inferno!’ incident—so it’s really just me and my aunt.”

“You’re lucky you don’t have a huge family.”

“And you’re lucky you have one,” Gon sighed. “I’d give an arm and a leg to meet my family, but Delta Airlines only accepts credit cards.”

Killua recalled Gon’s adamant decision to go backpacking through Europe. “So… you’re going to find your family?” he asked.

Gon nodded, beaming. “Yup! I’m super excited. I’ve been waiting my entire life for this moment. I’ve got my own bank account now and therefore, my aunt doesn’t know and therefore, she can’t make me miss my flight this time.”

“This time,” Killua repeated, and thus sparked Gon’s misadventures post high school graduation. Evidently, Gon had purchased a ticket to Italy—on his own, mind you—and his aunt had been so furious but calculating. She waited until the day of his flight to lock him in his room until the plane left the ground. It was, by far, the most Evil Step Mom thing Killua had every heard from someone outside of his own family. He had plenty of those sorts of stories on hand. Like the time he got accepted to a Midwestern university and his mother said, “My son will not be consorting with a bunch of cows.”

  Among other… things.

At the apartment, Gon walked them first to the basement door. His reasoning for this, he explained, was “because Chrollo’s already awake. He wakes up at eight on the dot every day.”

“I didn’t realize the landlord lived on the land,” Killua confessed as he leaned over and knocked on the door for Gon. Gon was busy setting the drink carrier on one of the stone bricks that lined the flowerbed. The ledge curved around and settled at the top edge of Lucilfer’s apartment door, over their heads. Killua looked pointedly away so he wouldn’t have to see Gon’s shirt riding up when he reached for Lucilfer’s coffee.

The lock came undone and a moment later, the man himself opened the door with a hand rubbing at his messy bedhead. Killua was, at this point, used to seeing Chrollo Lucilfer in a dress shirt and slacks, topped off with a high bun. Now, it was all loose and falling around his high cheekbones and he was wearing a Chicago Cubs t-shirt, much to Killua’s chagrin.

He slapped on a plastic smile that he only reserved for adults he was trying to impress. “Morning, Lucilfer,” he said.

Lucilfer glanced at Killua as if only now processing that his new tenant was at his door. He reached a hand vacantly for Gon, who placed the cup in his hand. “Morning to you… too. Seems you two have already met,” he commented in that eerily calm voice of his that reminded Killua that there were psychopaths everywhere and that he lived with one for seventeen years of his life.

But as far as he knew, Chrollo Lucilfer was not one of them. He was just a landlord—but perhaps those were synonymous with each other.

Gon exchanged pleasantries with Lucilfer, who then tipped his cup to Gon and said, “Thanks for the coffee. I’ll Venmo you.”

“No need,” Gon said.

Lucilfer stared dully at Gon, and the intensity of such a stare had Killua swallowing hard and Gon, likewise, laughing nervously. “O-Okay, fine, but I swear next one’s on me.”

“You say that every week,” Lucilfer said. “I will always win this game.”

Gon stomped his foot. “It’s not a game. It’s called chivalry.”

“It’s called being a pussy,” Lucilfer said. “I’ll see you two later.”

The door slammed shut and locked.

Killua turned to Gon, who shook his fist at the door and muttered, “One of these days, I swear—!” He turned with a huff and marched back up the steps. As Killua stared after Gon, who kept muttering to himself, he determined that he did, in fact, like the landlord.

Killua hopped up back to the brick walkway as Hatsu led the way to the first of the two ground floor apartments. It seemed Hatsu knew the drill and was merely trailing them along for the ride. Again, Killua knocked for the both of them and awaited whatever horrors were behind the door.

Killua stepped back and Gon smiled brightly at him just before the door opened. It was an ounce of encouragement, but Killua was too focused on Gon’s perfect fucking smile. Damn him, but mostly, damn himself for being so hopeless.

Behind the door stood what appeared to be a goddess, if goddesses tended to look like they had just emerged from their graves. Killua stared from over Gon’s shoulder as the tenant combed their long, manicured nails through their blonde hair and said, “Well, if it isn’t the little bitch and his pet.”

Wow, loving them already, Killua thought, snickering at Gon, who pointedly turned towards Killua with a roll of his eyes.

“Killua, meet Kurapika. Kurapika, this is our new neighbor, Killua.”

“I know,” the goddess—Kurapika—said and promptly reached a hand for their coffee. They picked one up, checked the name, and got it right on the first try. They took a sip as they leant against the doorframe, the tassels on their black robe swishing as they said, “Could have sworn there were two of them.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m living with my sister,” Killua said.

Kurapika sighed, narrow eyes sliding off towards the street as they said, “Not all of us can have game…”

“Kurapika,” Gon chastised. “Killua has plenty of game.”

“No, Kurapika hit the nail on the head with that one,” Killua said.

Gon turned sharply to Killua as if to say, “Give me something to work with here.” Kurapika let out a dry laugh and took a sip from their coffee, a smile on their lips. “I like this one. I’ll give him a year on the second floor.”

“That’s ominous,” Killua said.

Kurapika shook a finger at him, and Killua followed the shape of Kurapika’s deadly sharp nails. “I merely stated the second floor. I’ll know more after meeting your sister,” they said.

“Oh, is Leorio planning on moving out?” Gon asked.

“I don’t know any details. What makes you think I know details? Because I don’t,” Kurapika said, defensively. They snatched the second drink before pointing a sharp finger at Gon. They both jumped back. “Good day to you, mister,” they said before promptly sweeping their robe back and slamming the door shut.

“Leorio?” Killua repeated, raising an eyebrow at Gon.

Gon sighed. “Leorio lives next door to Kurapika and Machi—Machi’s probably still asleep. He and, um… Kurapika used to…” The rest of the sentence was mumbled and completely incomprehensible.

“They what?” Killua said.

“They used to date!” Gon hissed, like it was blasphemy. Killua pretended to be appalled like they were in some sort of soap opera—the gasp, the hand the heart, the whole goddamn deal. Gon swatted his hand down and said, “Don’t mention it. He’s going through a really rough time.”

Killua hummed like he gave a shit and followed Gon down the brick walkway to the attachment on the house. Killua assumed that at some point, this used to be the garage, but it was reworked and renovated to contain a studio apartment inside with a deck off of the roof of it that connected to the second floor railing walkway. The door was just as dark and ornamental as the rest—tall, dense, and framed by an archway of brick that created a makeshift overhang for Gon and Killua to stand beneath in the shade.

They waited for Leorio to answer, and when he did, the door cracked open and released the tune of, “A-nother turn-ing point, a fork stuck in the road—”

Killua grimaced. The song tasted like bile in the back of his throat, like after a bad experience with tequila. He gagged a little at the sound of Green Day on Leorio’s speakers and covered it with a fist over his mouth as the man himself came into view—standing as tall as the massive doorframe.

Killua’s eyes went up to the bloodshot gaze of what appeared to be a thirty-year-old man. Killua thought back to Kurapika, who looked… immortal, ageless.

“Hey, bud, how’re you doin’?” Gon said, like he was addressing a sick cat.

Leorio sighed and said, “I could use some caffeine right about now. I was up all night studying.”

Yeah, studying, Killua thought, noting the ketchup stain on Leorio’s shirt—unless it was blood, in that case…

Leorio pointed to Gon’s face and said, “What’s the bruise from?”

“Oh, Killua whacked a door in my face,” Gon said, pointing to Killua. “Who, by the way, is our new neighbor. Killua and Alluka took the second floor apartment.”

“Oh, wonderful,” Leorio said. “We have our new official Middle Man.”

“Great to know the apartment came with a job,” Killua said dully.

“You’re just a ball of sass, aren’t you?” Gon said.

Killua shrugged. He figured that if Gon was no longer a romantic prospect, he could afford to ruin Gon’s “impeccable” impression of him with a bit of sass here and there. In other words: he had nothing to lose.

“I’m just… gonna get back to it,” Leorio said, gesturing back into his apartment. Slowly, painfully, he closed the door on them.

Gon turned pointedly to Killua, and Killua turned pointedly to the end of the building where they could circle back around to the stairs. Gon followed after him, saying, “Well, that was a success—”

“Really?”

“—I suppose I might as well ask now: Are you working somewhere?” Gon asked as Killua started up the steps.

He turned back briefly, a hand to his chin, and said, “I don’t start my internship until December.”

“What will you be doing until then?”

“Losing my mind, I guess? I don’t fucking know,” Killua said. Truthfully, he considered getting a part-time job just to keep his brain intact during the next several months. He didn’t need the money—their parents were paying for the apartment, and Killua’s savings were sufficient enough as it was. The previous summer and the summer before that, Killua had worked his ass off at a fast-food restaurant and a four-month internship. During semesters, he made a little dough off of cleaning the research facilities at the university.

He was thinking of such a job, wondering what the odds were that he could still nab something at the university despite being graduated. Just as he considered sending his old professor an email, he caught the tail end of Gon saying, “—come with me to Europe.”

Killua stilled in front of his door. He had his keys out with his tea in the other hand. He raised an eyebrow in Gon’s direction. Gon was just standing there at the base of the third floor stairs, waiting for Killua’s answer.

“Excuse me?” he said.

“You should come to Europe with me,” Gon said.

Chapter Text

If Killua was going to spend a month with his new neighbor, he’d need to get over himself and get with the program.

Planning the trip meant spending hours in Gon’s apartment—or Gon in his apartment—researching flight prices and Airbnb hostels. It meant that he had plenty of time to desensitize himself to the idea of spending every waking moment with the guy abroad. Killua hadn’t even spent that much consecutive time around Alluka. If they were going to be travel buddies, that meant traveling in pairs, never alone.

So by default, the most privacy Killua would get would be trips to the bathroom and (if they were lucky) a night or two in his own, separate bedroom.

Killua leant back on the couch, one knee flopped to the side and the other pulled up so he could tap his pen against it. He sighed and said, “I’m not sure I understand. I thought we were just going to Italy?”

“That’s the endgame,” Gon explained, hunched over his computer. He tipped his head back against the seat cushion from where he was perched on Killua and Alluka’s floor. “But my great aunt lives in Amsterdam now, so I want to visit her and see what information we can find.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because my aunt still keeps in contact with her. When she retired here, she moved straight to Amsterdam and said, ‘Ci si vede!’”

“Oh, well, flights to Amsterdam are cheap as Hell compared to the bullshit I was thinking,” Killua said.

Gon put his laptop aside, turning fully to Killua. He propped his head up against his fist and said, “What were you thinking?”

Killua stared at him. Gon stared back, eyes wide and owlish. Killua rolled his eyes with a muttered curse, rubbing a hand through his hair as he confessed, “I… have a buddy in Ireland right now. He’s studying abroad for fall semester, and I joked around telling him I’d visit but I didn’t think I’d be going to Europe, so…”

“Then let’s go!” Gon exclaimed, jumping up. He pounced onto the couch beside Killua and dragged his laptop up. “We could fly into Amsterdam, stay a few nights with my great aunt, and then book it over to Dublin.”

Meanwhile, off in the kitchen, Alluka was stress-baking and denying it whenever Killua asked. That night, long after the sun disappeared and Gon left, Killua hesitated near his bedroom curtain-door and watched Alluka frantically whisking a bowl of mousse like the madwoman she was.

Her hair was in a messy, disarray—tied up and falling down—and she even went through the trouble of finding her stupid fucking apron that Killua had bought her as a complete joke. It was printed with flowers and an elegant, cursive script that looped into the words, “Cluster fuck.”

“I’m gonna go to bed,” Killua said.

“Okay!” Alluka chirped.

“Are you… gonna go to bed too, or…?”

“Oh, no, I have to wait for the next batch,” she said. When Killua didn’t move, she looked up with a smile and said, “I’m fine, Killua, really. And I’ve made enough for the neighbors.”

“Yeah, and all of Uptown,” Killua said. Alluka furrowed her brow at him. He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Suit yourself,” he said.

Killua went to sleep that night to the sound of Alluka cleaning pots and pans in the kitchen. He felt the eerie sensation of being down a grand in his savings account, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He had never traveled abroad despite having a passport (Killua and Alluka often jested that it was a safeguard in case the mafia came after their family), and he was jittery with eagerness to just hop on a plane and skedaddle. He’d be in Amsterdam before long, and he couldn’t be more excited.

It took a solid week and a half of bumming around the apartment complex with Gon to come to terms with the fact that Gon was nothing more than a frat bro to him. The analogy was all there: They lived in the same house (technically) together, Gon smacked his ass (once) platonically, and they had plans to hit the gym together. If that didn’t say bromance, then Killua seriously needed to reconsider the meaning of the word.

With nothing to do until mid-September, Killua frequented the gym religiously each day before lunch. He needed something to occupy his time, and that thing just so happened to be an absurd amount of running. To anyone who noticed his shift in routine, they might mistake it for marathon training. He had the stamina for it, for sure, as well as the pain tolerance. His freshmen year had seen two marathons in a year. It was how he burnt himself out to avoid a brain-full of anxiety over classes.

It was during a six mile run that Killua’s tunnel-vision picked up on a familiar black-haired devil walking in his direction. Killua plucked his earbuds out, keeping up speed as none other than Gon Freecss approached his treadmill and said, “It’s so nice out—why don’t you run outside?”

Killua gestured to his white hair and pale face. “I’d rather not burn my scalp, thank you very much.”

“Ah,” Gon said. He leant over the rubber handle to read the milage on the dashboard. Killua was reminded of his first impression of Gon—something he hadn’t been able to get out of his head since Day One—when he took one look at Gon and lost his shit over Gon having that perfect, breathtaking runner physique.

“Dude, we should sign up for a 5k,” Gon said, looking up at Killua. “What do you think?”

Killua slowed the treadmill to a walk as he said, a little breathless, “Sure. Yeah, I’m down. You run, bro?”

“Yeah, I run, bro,” Gon said, laughing. Killua snickered as he ran the back of his wrist against his cheek. “You lift, bro?”

He flat-out laughed and nodded. “Uh, yeah—I actually… used to compete.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’ve got a goddamn medal, dude, I’m not kidding. There’s a monthly strongman competition downtown.”

Gon’s eyes flew wide open and he shrieked, “Strongman competition? Holy shit, you don’t look like—I mean, you’re fit but you’re not, like—”

Killua stopped the treadmill flat out and leant against the railing, hands out, deadly serious. “I live for this shit, okay? If I didn’t have the gym I’d lose my goddamn mind.”

“Wow,” Gon breathed.

“But I’m not in it for bulk, you know? I won that competition in the lowest weight class they offer. I get more into it in the winter. I get a membership at Uppercut from December to spring, whenever the hell that happens.”

“Uppercut?”

“That boxing gym in Northeast.”

“I’ve been meaning to go there.”

“I’ll show you sometime.”

The offer was so out there and unlike Killua that it hit him straight up the head. While he was still recovering, Gon agreed, animated as always, and claimed the treadmill next to him. Killua couldn’t shake the thought from his head even as they ran together. It occurred to him that… he never really had a friend like Gon.

He never really had a friend before, if he was being completely honest.

Well…

His freshmen year roommate came to mind in stunning clarity. His expression withered a little under the ire that devious man sparked in Killua. Thinking of his old roommate gave him heartburn just like when he looked at a bottle of tequila. Perhaps because his old roommate was often associated with the drink anyway, and Killua was certain the guy felt inclined to take Killua out partying because he was in a frat, they were roommates, and fuck it if it wasn’t obvious that Killua was a loner.

It wasn’t that Killua was unlikeable, it was just that he found everyone else unlikeable. Gon caught him off guard, for better or for worse, and he managed to worm his way into Killua’s life when Killua was off-kilter, unprepared, and most of all, receptive to something new. He had three months to kill, anyway. It was the perfect blend.

From that day forward, Killua awoke at the ungodly hour of seven AM to a text from Gon asking A) to let him in and B) if he was down for a trip to the gym? Killua would sigh into his pillow, his view partially obscured by the flannel pillowcase smushed up to his cheek.

He glanced up at the windowpane where the blue sky was peppered over with luscious tree branches swaying in the morning breeze. He gathered up the energy to rise, at which point, he set his phone down and pushed himself up onto his hands for a good old fashioned yoga bālāsana over the mattress to stretch his back out. And then, with much drama, he rolled onto his side, over his back, and landed feet-first on the wood flooring, arms out and stretching high over his head.

Clad in nothing but a tank top, shorts, and sneakers, Killua staggered out into the foyer. He tapped the toes of his shoes into the wood, securing them, and unintentionally alerting Alluka to his whereabouts. She emerged from her bedroom the same as always: Preppy, bright-eyed, and fully dressed for the day with her backpack secured.

She waltzed out wearing a pair of oxford shoes and padded across the apartment to where Killua swung open the front door. There, they faced Gon and Hatsu. And there, they stared their days as they always did: With a trip to Caribou Coffee.

Alluka took to walking Hatsu ahead of Gon and Killua. As she took the leash from Gon, she said, “You better watch out—I might just steal your dog.”

“I know for a fact that Hatsu would love being your dog,” Gon said.

“Do you know who’s taking care of him?” Killua asked, hands pocketed and eyes sheltered by a pair of aviator sunglasses.

Gon shrugged and said, “Honestly, I figured Kurapika and Machi would take turns, but I’m indifferent. Hatsu loves everyone in the house.”

“I could just take care of him,” Alluka offered. “I mean, I’m gone for classes most days, but it wouldn’t be an issue.”

“You wouldn’t mind?” Gon asked, and when Alluka shook her head, he said, “We should schedule a slumber party sometime, see if Hatsu could sleep over at your place.”

If Killua hadn’t already gotten over himself and his ridiculous crush, he might have blown a fuse over “schedule a slumber party.” Thankfully, he was no longer a horny teenager without an ounce of self-control. Gon might have had to cope with a different situation had he been dealing with eighteen-year-old Killua, though.

Meanwhile, Alluka was squealing and clapping her hands, already all too eager to spend the night with Hatsu. Killua smiled as she bounced around, working Hatsu up into a tizzy, prancing and pouncing like an absolute maniac across the grass while Alluka danced on the sidewalk and through the parking lot to Caribou. She threw her arms out like an airplane, swirling around Hatsu, who started barking and shaking his bum at her.

“You’re awfully trustworthy for a college student,” Killua commented to Gon, who didn’t seem to know the meaning of the word “trustworthy”.

They bantered about it as they waited in line, and again as they waited for their orders to be called. It was in that moment that Killua realized that he was in the presence of a total dumbass—he had a hunch before, but now it was just confirmed when Gon said, “Oh, yeah, I always keep cash on me to give to homeless people.”

Killua slapped his forehead and threw his hands out in front of him, exclaiming, “Dude, you’re so—! That’s classic I-wasn’t-raised-a-city-kid speech. Where are your street smarts?”

“I have street smarts!”

“Oh yeah, prove it. Prove it so I don’t have to save your ass from being kidnapped when we’re in Europe.”

Gon rolled his eyes, hands on his hips. “I can save my own ass, thank you very much.”

Killua raised his eyebrows and, with it, put his sunglasses on top of his head after running his fingers through his hair. He shook his head, looking away. “You know, if you get fucking pickpocketed, don’t come crying to me. All right? The second we step off that goddamn plane, I’m in charge of our passports.”

“You’re being overdramatic,” Gon accused.

“Overdramatic?!” Killua cried out.

“Nothing’s new there,” Alluka said from where she was examining posters on the wall. She glanced over her shoulder, fully aware that Killua was scowling at her. She shrugged and went back to inspecting the wall with Hatsu at her side.

Killua threw his arms down, exasperated and dramatic. Gon threw his head back laughing, just a moment before the barista brought their orders to the counter. Equipped with a drink carrier, Gon took Hatsu’s leash back so that Alluka could go on to class. They waved to her from the sidewalk as she bounded to the other side of the road and pranced off, her hands clasped to the straps of her backpack.

Killua took a sip of his tea and trailed after Gon, back in the direction of home. It took a while before Killua was able to name the sensation in his gut, jittering beneath his skin, sparkling through his system as they walked back. It was something he hadn’t felt before that day, and it had everything to do with getting a fucking life. He was eager to see the other tenants, and it was idiotic of him to assume that friendship would become part of it.

He’d save that for another, later date. He’d deal with it after Europe.

At the basement door, Killua knocked as Gon retrieved Chrollo Lucilfer’s drink. That day, Lucilfer was clad in a button up shirt, a tie not quite strung around his neck, the collar popped up. He looked exhausted as he reached for the coffee and tipped the cup up to Gon, saying, “You’re a goddamn savior, Freecss.”

“What are you up to today?” Gon said, eyes scanning Lucilfer’s ensemble as Lucilfer tipped the cup back and took a drink.

“I’ve got a meeting in an hour across town, and—”

He cut off at the motion at his feet. Killua followed his gaze down to where a cat had brushed up between his legs, tail flicking, wide, green eyes honed in on Hatsu. Killua half-expected Hatsu to face-plant into the cat, but instead, he found Hatsu staring intently, paws prancing, anxious. Hatsu took a hesitant step forward, nose out, and touched it gingerly to the black cat’s button nose. Distantly, he heard Gon whisper, “Precious.”

“On that note,” Lucilfer said, hooking his foot beneath the cat’s stomach. He swept the cat back over the threshold with ease and reached for something behind the door. “Give this back to Machi and tell her it isn’t my cup of tea.”

He deposited a black box into Killua’s hand. Even after the door shut, both Killua and Gon stared at it, perplexed. Gon looked up at Killua, who then pushed at the ridges on the top of the box. It sprung open to the side and revealed two slots.

He pulled out a metal stick and said, “It’s for weed.”

“You’re kidding,” Gon whispered.

Killua inspected the container, and then the metal cigarette. “This shit is expensive,” he said.

He led the way to Kurapika and Machi’s apartment where, this time, Machi answered the call. She had her heavy, pink hair tied back into a gnarled ponytail and a bandana headband. She looked disinterested, but not quite as exhausted as the others tended to be in the morning. Her narrowed eyes leveled them with a stare through a pair of round glasses as she took her and Kurapika’s drinks from Gon.

She said nothing even as Killua offered the black box and said, “Lucilfer says thanks, but no thanks.”

She eyed them both suspiciously as she set her drink aside to take the box and, then, shut the door.

Killua turned to Gon, who turned to Killua, and together, they silently decided not to touch the matter of Lucilfer and Machi’s exchange with a ten foot pole.

***

Killua had never spent so much time with one person before, Alluka included. Killua grew used to finding Hatsu asleep on Gon’s chest in his living room. He was under the impression that if it wasn’t Killua’s apartment, it was Kurapika’s, or Leorio’s, or even Lucilfer’s. He didn’t mind the company, considering all it afforded him was someone to watch TV with and hammer out the kinks in their travel plans. For the most part, though, it felt like they’d be winging it. Killua didn’t mind it.

They’d leave early in the morning that Thursday—earlier than usual, anyway. The sun would just barely color the horizon by the time Killua snapped together the buckles on his backpack, laced up his sneakers, and went to Alluka’s bedroom door. He let himself in and, quietly, ducked down beside her bed. The blankets shifted, overwrought with shadows from the curtains on the windows blocking the street lights. Alluka groaned and, likewise, Hatsu peeked out from the sheets to lick Killua’s hand.

Killua nudged Alluka, lightly, and said, “Hey. I’m leaving.”

She pushed herself up onto her elbow. Her hair was an absolute rats nest, gnarled and about a foot off of her head due to frizz and static. She blinked open her eyes with a yawn and said, “Okay—text me updates. When you board the plane, when you land, all of it.”

He agreed and squeezed his arms around her. She hugged him back, her face pressed to his shoulder. The apartment would be empty without him, though he figured Hatsu would do her some good. His grip tightened, his hands clutching at her shoulders as he breathed in the smell of that stupid Febreeze bullshit he told her not to buy because it was a scam, but she bought it anyway out of spite, but he really couldn’t bring himself to hold it against her because Alluka meant everything and more to him.

“Don’t let strangers into the apartment,” he said, voice muffled against her hair.

“Don’t die,” she said.

“And don’t do drugs,” he said.

“I don’t even know where I’d get them,” she said.

He ruffled her hair as he pulled away. He could have stayed there all morning, but the energy in his system told him to run and explore and get the hell on that plane. Hatsu to that chance to sit up and stick his head between them. Alluka laughed as Hatsu bashed his damp nose straight into Killua’s chin with a slobbery kiss. He shoved Hatsu aside as he pushed to his feet. Hatsu refused to leave the bed, even as Killua left the room and shut Alluka’s bedroom door.

The sky shown an inky blue through the windows as Killua unlocked the front door, his keys in hand. When he stepped out onto the deck, the air felt damp and cool against his skin and it weighed on his sweatshirt as he locked the door and went out into the crisp, early morning. The motion sensor light was already on in the narrow parking lot and there, he found Gon waiting with a backpack and a crossbody bag strapped securely across his chest.

Killua’s footsteps were the only sound that morning as he treaded down the creaky steps. He hopped down onto the gravel, walking briskly to meet Gon in time to make their bus. They were airport-bound and still too groggy to fully comprehend the absurdity of the trip.

Gon looked wide awake, though, and eager to get a move on. The instant Killua approached him, he was darting ahead with fast steps across the pavement, bounding off of the curb in a matter of seconds. The streets were empty all except for parked cars, so they took to walking across the intersection without a care, caught under the blinking yellow lights and distant headlights.

Gon’s backpack was the size of his entire torso and then some. It was tiered—hardcore hiking, camping shit. Killua half expected Gon to say, “Joke’s on you! We’re going to California to hike the entire John Meir Trail.” Instead, Gon turned to Killua with that stupid, perfect smile that made Killua’s heart do unseemly things in his chest.

He rubbed a palm over his chest as Gon said, “I’m so glad you’re coming with me.”

The heat in Killua’s body swelled up to his face. He reasoned with himself, insisting that it was merely embarrassment. “Fuck off. You’re such a cheeseball,” Killua said.

Gon barked out a laugh and threw his arms up. “Cheeseball?! That’s a first!”

“It’s five in the morning—I’m too disoriented for words,” Killua muttered, turning away.

It was in that exact moment that Gon’s raised arms dropped around Killua’s shoulders. Killua jolted as if shocked and turned sharply to look at Gon. Gon’s eyes were squeezed shut, smile wide and brighter than any tungsten light on the street as he swayed Killua to and fro.Killua was too focused on Gon’s deep-set dimples and the smell of his sandalwood cologne so rooted in his clothes that Killua felt it enveloping him in the circle of Gon’s arms.

Gon insisted that this would be the best vacation ever, and Killua was in no position to disagree.

Chapter Text

Killua capped his water bottle as he padded across the plain tiled floor of the airport. The air was frigid inside, and Killua equated it with the Midwest’s general discomfort in the muggy, late-summer climate. As the sun crept over the horizon and cast a golden hue across the terminal, Killua became grateful for the sweatshirt he brought with.

It’ll only get colder from here on out, he thought, only to hesitate when he recalled just how far south they’d be traveling.

It was difficult even packing for this whole affair. He had the funds to afford buying clothes along the way, but they wouldn’t necessarily have the space to accommodate excess. His backpack was on the brink of airport security’s carryon limit as it was, and he could only guesstimate the weight that would be added on through the month.

Gon was waiting for him near the windows, wearing earbuds and reclined back in his seat. He had a foot pulled up on the seat, arms crossed, his head tipped back against the window. Killua told himself that it was fine to look since Gon’s eyes were closed, but the instant he approached, Gon opened an eye to acknowledge him and Killua was back to looking at his feet as he dropped into the chair a spot away. Their bags claimed the seat between them.

Killua took a massive gulp of his water as Gon said, “I don’t really know anything about you.”

Killua choked a little on his laugh. He coughed into his arm and closed his water bottle. He glanced sideways at Gon, who seemed entirely earnest, peering at him from over their massive backpack. Killua rolled his eyes and said, “We’ve basically been hanging out for the past two weeks.”

“Yeah, but… we were, like… doing things. We weren’t really talking,” Gon explained, and Killua cackled a little because it sounded like something he’d hear from a hetero couple when the girl says, “We don’t talk anymore!”

Killua stifled his laugh, clearing his throat. “We have all month dude—don’t get your panties in a twist,” he said.

“I know, but I mean… is it just you and Alluka or do you have any other siblings…? Have you ever owned a pet…?”

“I have other siblings, and I’ve never owned a pet for more than a month before said siblings kick it or something and it gets sent to the pound or something. I don’t really fucking know,” Killua said.

“What?!” Gon shrieked, lunging to his feet. He looked horrified, panicked, as he slapped his hands to his cheeks and cried, “I shouldn’t have left Hatsu with Alluka—”

“Fuck, dude, no—Alluka and I are the only normal ones,” Killua insisted, waving his hands. Fuck, he thought. He really did set that up to seem like he and Alluka were psychopaths. The last thing he wanted was to be clumped together with Illumi and Milluki like that. “Alluka’s always wanted a dog. Hatsu’s fine with her.”

Gon collapsed back in his seat with a sigh of relief, a hand to his forehead. “Ai yai, yai, don’t scare me like that! Christ!”

At the ticket desk, an attendant spoke on the microphone calling the first group to come forward for boarding. Killua and Gon watched as a pack of posh folks lined up.

“Have you ever flown business?” Gon asked.

“One time,” he confessed, his eyes trailing down the line of people and back to where Gon was sitting. Killua couldn’t lie: his family was wealthy, and he blamed his mom’s maternal instincts for the reason why his and Alluka’s schooling and housing was paid for. If she hadn’t badgered their father into doing it, he’d be looking for rent cheaper than six-hundred a month just for himself—that wasn’t even including what Alluka would have to pay.

So yeah, his dad preferred business class on flights. He also preferred to fly alone.

“My… dad gets perks,” he said and turned away with a slight grimace, playing it off as a smile as Gon marveled over it. That’s underselling it entirely, he thought, but it isn’t a lie. “What about you?”

“Me? Oh, no, economy all the way,” Gon said, and with that, he lunged to his feet in a power-pose.

Killua took the hint. The two of them packed up their shit and Killua stuffed his water bottle into the side of his backpack. After adjusting the straps on his backpack, Gon slapped him on the shoulder and the force nearly sent him face planting into the tiles. He staggered and spun around with a scowl. Gon giggled, shrugging innocently on his stroll ahead to the boarding line.

With his ticket and passport in hand, he awaited the moment of judgement: the approach to the ticket scanner. He was nervous about the state of his passport photo and could feel a sweat breaking out on his forehead as they came closer. He bit his lip as he studied the photo, only to slap it down when Gon peered over to look at it.

“What?” Gon said. “I wanna see your picture—”

“No, it’s embarrassing,” Killua muttered, flattening the picture to his chest. “I don’t even look like this anymore. I just—I get unnecessarily anxious when people check my ID.”

“Oh, same. I got my ID renewed two weeks before my apartment to chop off my man bun,” Gon said. He went into his wallet as the chatter in Killua’s brain neutralized into a dull purr that popped off into the sound of a Windows computer starting up. Gon flicked his license at Killua, who just barely caught it in time to find a picture of Gon with an actual, goddamn man bun that went off the photo frame.

“Holy shit,” Killua said.

“Yeah, I know. It kept my neck warm in the winter,” Gon said. He went to take the license back but instead, snatched Killua’s passport.

Killua clenched his teeth. It was too late, Gon had already seen the photo, but damn him for lowering Killua’s defenses with that perfectly executed diversion. Gon in a man bun would distract any sensible individual.

Gon’s eyes flew wide open at the same time his jaw dropped and he cried out, “Your hair! It’s—!”

Killua put a hand over his eyes, Gon’s license still between his fingers. “Ugh, don’t remind me…”

“I don’t know why I never noticed that you dye your hair. That makes so much sense… And it’s so long here—”

“I know…” Killua moaned, completely and utterly embarrassed. Not only had he had black hair, but he also wore it like some emotionally constipated high schooler trying to cover up their forehead acne and eyebrows.

“Well, I think you look great black or white.”

“Let’s not be racist,” Killua said.

Gon was so startled by the sass that nothing came out of his open mouth for a second. The line move forward then and Gon threw back his head with a laugh.

The attendant accepted Killua’s cursed passport without question before waving him along. Gon was waiting at the entrance to the terminal with that cheeky smile. Killua shoved his shoulder against Gon’s, nudging him along down the long path onto the plane. He could already feel his backpack straps digging into his shoulders.

Their seats were at the far back of the plane where all of the window shades were already closed and where the light near the restroom would never turn off. Killua wouldn’t have cared all that much had he not been a light sleeper to begin with, but that’s what sleep masks were for.

Killua stuffed his backpack in the overhead bin before joining Gon near the window. With his satchel stowed under the seat, he reclined back with a sigh, his head against the stiff seat cushion. They were near the engines, which wasn’t entirely pleasant, but when Gon lifted the window cover, they could see the airfields in perfect clarity and the sunlight piercing them directly in the retinas.

Gon lowered the window shade a touch, wincing. He rubbed at his eye and said, “Well, that’s certainly one way to go blinder than I already am.”

“What do you mean?” Killua said.

“Well, you know I wear contacts, right?”

Killua stared at him and tried to picture Gon in any form of spectacle wear. He came up blank, shook his head, and said, “Would I be asking you to elaborate if I did?”

Gon straightened in his seat, turned to face Killua as much as he could with the seatbelt restrictions, and gestured sharply, saying, “This is what I’m talking about! We don’t know anything about each other.”

“You’re the one who invited me on this trip literally the second day after we met each other. If you were concerned about me being a serial killer, it’s a bit late for that, don’t you think?”

“Well, now I know your family has a history of psychopathy, which might have been good to mention—”

“It’s not exactly first date material,” Killua said, because his sass was off the charts and he completely forgot that he was talking to a straight guy after having Gon’s man bun burned into his memory for all of eternity.

Gon blinked at him, startled, and Killua rolled his eyes with a groan, leaning on the armrest away from Gon. “Ugh, you know what I mean,” he said.

Gon laughed and said, “I guess you’re right, though. I have a spontaneity problem.”

“Uh, yeah, I gathered as much,” Killua said, and Gon smiled cheekily, cheeks colored a rosy red.

“So I suppose it goes without saying that I might be all over the place once we get there. But I figured with you being, you know…”

“Being… what?”

“I don’t know. Active, I guess? I just don’t see you getting worn out by running around like a bunch of chickens with their heads cut off,” Gon said, circling his finger around next to his head. Immediately after, he gasped and waved his hands quickly, saying, “B-But that’s fine if you can’t keep up! I’ve been told I don’t have an off-switch.”

“By who? I’ll kick ‘em in the nuts,” Killua said. Before Gon could even comment on that, he added, “And don’t worry about me. If anything, I’m worried you won’t keep up.”

“Oh really? Is that a challenge?” Gon said, and Killua couldn’t possibly miss the way Gon’s smile tipped into a crooked, devious grin.

Killua considered it—seriously considered it—because they’d be arriving in the dead of night. While Minneapolis continued in bright, autumn sunlight, Amsterdam would be dimming into the nightlife. It was the perfect scenario to find Gon’s great aunt and conk out for the night in preparation for the long, grueling days ahead.

Killua’s smile spread wider at the prospect. It was in favor of them both. “Alright, sure. You’re on,” Killua said as he clasped onto Gon’s extended hand.

Gon clapped his hands and rubbed them together like he had some evil master plan. “I’m so excited to see Gran again,” he said, and Killua watched in amusement as Gon explained, frantic, “I mean, my great aunt, but she’s ancient so I’ve always just thought of her as my grandma, you know?”

Killua pictured his own grandpa with stiff fondness. He could deal with his grandfather more than he could his own parents.

But boy, could Gon ramble. Killua wasn’t all that surprised considering the time they had already spent together over planning the trip. Killua barely paid any mind to liftoff as Gon explained in fervent detail how, on his first flight ever, he had burst an eardrum. He dragged his fingers down the side of his face, along his jaw, detailing the blood that trickled out with his eyes rolling to the back of his head. That was when he was a kid and only spoke an ounce of English—second grade, if that.

Gon had been completely unprepared for the American school system, despite all of the preparation his aunt gave him. Being tossed into an all-English school, though, brought with it as many challenges as it did excitement. His classmates had been encouraging and, on the playground, would prompt Gon to teach them Italian. Gon wasn’t at all equipped for it, but teaching them made it easier for him to grasp English.

In fourth grade, when they were first introduced to language course possibilities, the school brought in language teachers—Spanish and German, primarily, but on the last day they brought an Italian teacher.

“I think they did it because of me, if I’m being honest,” Gon confessed. “But Italian isn’t exactly a common language in the Midwest. Everyone took Spanish in middle school. What language did you take in middle school?”

“I took German before going to university school,” Killua confessed. Middle school consisted of three years of German, but once he hit high school level, he was enrolled in university school where the courses were abundant and the curriculum loose. “I took French for four years before college.”

“University school?”

“Yeah, it’s, like…” He didn’t know how to explain it without dragging it through the mud. Gon was looking at him like he was expecting some great big thing. “It’s not as exciting as you think it is.”

“I don’t care. What is it?”

Killua sighed. “It’s basically where kids set their own expectations and are treated like adults. I never had to give my report cards to my parents, no parent-teacher conferences, et cetera.”

“Wow. I didn’t know schools like that existed.”

“Yeah, because a bunch of capitalistic shitheads ship their kids off to it. It’s not a boarding school, but it was an hour commute for me. Kids rolled up in Lamborghinis on a daily basis. Everyone just jerked off the entire four years because they’re all nepotistic.”

“Oh,” Gon hummed. He put a finger to his chin and said, “Are you…?”

“Nepotistic? Fuck no. I’m an interpreter. I don’t even have my certificate yet to practice outside of public schools,” Killua said.

“Then what do your parents do?”

Thinking about it made his skin crawl. “You don’t wanna know.”

“I definitely do—”

“Tell ya what,” Killua said, and Gon straightened up with a firm nod, “we’re limited to one personal question per hour. You already asked yours.”

Gon groaned, slumping back in his seat. “Ugh, but that was about language. That isn’t personal.”

“I don’t make the rules,” Killua said, turning away.

“You just made the rules!” Gon shrieked, only to be shushed by the woman a seat in front of them. Gon groaned and moaned some more before slapping his hands down and saying, “Fine. Okay. I’m setting a timer.”

Killua didn’t expect that. It was just some casual, fun way to avoid letting Gon find out just how terrible his family was. But there Gon was, putting a timer on his watch before settling in to read a little. When Gon removed the book from his bag, Killua was tempted to inquire about it. Instead, the moment Killua opened his mouth, Gon looked at him as if sensing the oncoming question. Gon tapped his watch teasingly before turning the pages over and plucking out his bookmark.

Smartass, Killua thought, and reached forward to pick a movie to watch for the eight hour journey east.

“I walk a lone-ly road, the on-ly one that I have ever known—”

Alluka stared awkwardly up at the face of a thirty-year-old man she’d never laid eyes on. It was an immensely eerie encounter, standing before the open, dark entryway to the third apartment on the property. The guy was wearing nothing but a floral-printed kimono that showed off a chest layered with dark hair that matched his head of short, black hair.

The guy pushed his glasses up, squinting at Alluka. Alluka’s eyes were too wide to squint in that very moment she raised a coffee cup up to him and said, “Gon said you like your lattes extra hot, triple-shot, no foam.”

The man’s eyes narrowed further. The man’s name was Leorio—it said as much under Gon’s instructions: Apartment three, Leorio (he/him), extra hot, triple-shot, no foam latte.

Leorio leant over, glancing down the walkway one way and then the other with a hand on the doorframe. At last, his attention landed on hers once more and said, “And… you are…?”

“Oh! Alluka, apartment four,” she said.

“Ah, the sister,” Leorio concluded. He took the drink as Green Day sang, “My shad-ow’s the on-ly one that walks beside me—My shal-low heart’s the only thing that’s beat-ing.” After taking a sip, he hummed in satisfaction and said, “You got it right, Sister. Since we’ve never met, I might as well introduce myself–”

“Leorio Paladiknight,” she interjected, smiling proudly. “You’re in medical school. Gon told me.”

“That rat—ruining my introduction and everything,” he said. He crossed an arm over his chest and leant against the open doorframe. He tipped his head to the side and said, “Truth be told, I wasn’t expecting anyone. I figured I’d be off to Caribou on my own within the next hour.”

“No need,” Alluka said, smiling. “I put my Venmo name on the cup. You know where to find me.”

Leorio glanced at the cup and turned it around to where Alluka’s Venmo username was written in black sharpie. Just as he was about to thank her, Alluka was already heading down the walkway with Hatsu in tow. Leorio leant out of his apartment door to watch after her and waved when she glanced back at him.

Alluka marched on to the second apartment above ground, which, based on Gon’s note, was occupied by “Machi (she/her, pink hair) and Kurapika (they/them). Alluka chanted their names in her head until the exact moment she switched the drink carrier over to her other hand and knocked on the door. She looked down at Hatsu, who peered back up at her.

She pouted her lips and Hatsu tipped his head to the side, pointed ears flopping.

A ruckus exploded from behind the door.

Alluka jumped at the massive thud! that resonated against the wood. Hatsu was immediately on the defense, leaping back with a low, threatening bark. Alluka put a hand to her heart as the door flew open. She was faced with a full grown man’s bare back being shoved in her direction. She shrieked, stepping to the side and tugging Hatsu along with her as the guy tripped backwards, skidding down the steps, and landed flat on his ass in the grass.

He had the bulk of a goddamn rugby player and a wide, squarish face to boot. Alluka stared at him, and then to the pink-haired woman leaning over the threshold and flinging a shirt at the guy. She frisbeed a baseball cap after him as he said, “I’ll fucking pay you, you bitch! You’re over reacting—”

Alluka stared at the woman—Machi, it had to be, if that pink hair had anything to say about it. The girl looked like an absolute doll were it not for her sharp, furious eyes and the fact that she was wearing nothing but a pair of boy shorts and a bralette.

She flipped the guy off and said, “Don’t make me set my dog on you, Phinks.”

“You don’t even own a dog,” he said.

Machi pointed to Hatsu.

The man, Phinks, laughed as he got to his feet. “Oh, right, because Hatsu’s so goddamn deadly—”

Machi reached down and unhooked Hatsu’s leash from his collar. Before Alluka could even think to stop her, she was snapping her fingers at Phinks and saying, “Sic ‘em, Hatsu!”

Phinks cursed, turning on his heels the instant Hatsu prepared to pounce. Hatsu started barking up a storm, lunging from the stoop and into the grass where Phinks took off running with his hat and shirt in hand. Alluka bounded off the step to chase after them, only to skid to a halt when a deafening whistle snapped her eardrum in half.

Hatsu stopped at the brink of the lawn, prancing on his paws and barking after Phinks, who was halfway across the road and scrambling for his keys. They fell on the pavement in his haste. Machi stepped up onto the concrete stoop beside Alluka to watch, her arms crossed and gaze deadly. As Phinks drove off, he put down his window and shouted at Machi, “Bitch!” to which she shouted, “Shithead!” Hatsu leapt down the length of the lawn as Phinks peeled away until the intolerable guy was out of sight.

“Hatsu… seems well-trained,” Alluka commented, the limp leash in hand.

As Hatsu sneezed and started his retreat, Machi said, “Taught him everything he knows. Except for the kissy-thing Gon taught him.”

“Kissy-thing?”

“Hatsu!” Machi called, and Alluka prepared for a demonstration. Hatsu leapt up, hardly fazed by the entire ordeal with Phinks. Hatsu wiggled his bum, tail swishing, as Machi said, “Bacino.”

Hatsu performed an excellently-executed vertical leap, paws to his chest, and dabbed his nose to Machi’s cheek. She looked on, unpleased and deadpanned all at once. Alluka watched in amazement and, when Hatsu landed, concluded by clapping her hand to her leg because she was still holding the drink carrier.

“That was magnificent,” she said.

Machi crouched down to reattach the leash, at which point Alluka said, “Oh, I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Alluka, Killua’s sister. I brought you and Kurapika drinks from Caribou.”

“And here I was expecting to go cold turkey for a month,” Machi sighed, rising to her feet. She put a hand on her hip and examined the drink carrier contents. At last, she grabbed one for Kurapika and one for herself, at which point Alluka explained the Venmo username written on the sleeves.

“Thanks for this,” she said, raising her drink as if to cheer to the moment.

Before she could entirely disappear, Alluka reached out and said, “Hey, wait—Do you mind me asking what… all that was about? With that guy? Do I need to worry about him, you know…”

Machi blinked at her for a moment before shaking her head. “Oh, no. No way, that shithead’s harmless. That would be my boyfriend, Phinks.”

Boyfriend? Alluka thought, horrified. They acted like enemies!

“He sounds like a freeloader,” she confessed, only to bite the inside of her cheek with a curse. She really needed to stop being so goddamn blunt, and she blamed it on her East Coast upbringing.

Machi, however, laughed. Her smile was small but genuine as she said, “You’re a smart cookie. Don’t make my mistake, with a guy or a girl or otherwise. Freeloaders can suck my figurative dick.”

“Then why do you keep him around?”

“We’re neighbors, not sisters,” she said.

Alluka flushed bright red. There she went once again, pushing boundaries. She couldn’t help it—her need to know, to understand… it was exhausting, not only for her but for the people she interrogated. It was embarrassing to be caught so outright, so she said, “Right, sorry. I shouldn’t be prying.”

Machi studied her, a hand on the doorframe, half-turned towards the stoop. Alluka looked down at Hatsu, who was sitting perfectly content on the concrete.

“No, you know what,” Machi said, gesturing to Alluka and the remaining coffee. “You drop that off and come over. You should meet Kurapika, anyway.”

“Really?” Alluka said, shocked.

“Yeah, I’ll prop open the door for you,” she said and with that, Alluka hurried off down the steps and beneath the stoop to where the landlord’s door was.

Alluka still couldn’t decide on what to call the man. She was conditioned into calling every superior first and foremost by title, but then Gon went and wrote, “Chrollo,” on the note. It felt odd even referring to her landlord by his first name, but she blamed that on the education system filled with Misters and Misses.

Alluka knocked on the door and produced the last and final beverage of the day. She straightened her shoulders, smiled, and hoped she looked just as perky as Gon did in the mornings.

When the door opened, however, she was confronted with the face of an absolute angel with bedhead. Until that exact moment, Alluka had forgotten all of her initial thoughts about her landlord—all of the thoughts she had forced into the back of her mind because this was the guy she’d be paying rent to. The guy who lived a few floorboards, insulation, and a ceiling away from her.

“Good morning,” she said, voice cracking a whole octave higher than usual. She thrust out the drink carrier and said, “This is for you.”

Mr. Lucilfer looked down at it and back up again and said, “You aren’t Gon.”

“That may be true, but this drink is for you.”

“It’s too early in the morning to be rhyming,” he told her and accepted the drink. He checked the label on it and nodded in approval. “Thoughtful of you to be thinking of me, though. I take it you’ve already made your rounds.”

“Yeah, but I’m going to back to hang with Machi and Kurapika,” she said, gesturing to the side. Mr. Lucilfer leant out his door to glance over the hedge where Machi stood, waiting in the doorway. She offered a cheeky, sarcastic smile and a little wave that had Mr. Lucilfer rolling his eyes.

Before closing his door, he pointed in Machi’s direction and told Alluka, “Watch out for those two. They bite.”

“Damn straight,” Machi shouted. “Get over here, Unit 4!”

Alluka marched back up the steps and over to their stoop. As she went, she said, “My name’s Alluka, Unit 2.”

Machi laughed, leant back, and held the door open for Alluka with a low bow. “Whatever you say,” she said as she took the leash from Alluka and guided both her and Hatsu into their domaine.