Archive of Our Own

Pariston hates Ging. Despises him. Wants to destroy him.

Yet, as per some phenomenon, Pariston finds himself enjoying Ging’s presence. He loves the light feeling in his heart whenever Ging talks about whatever’s on his mind.

Pariston studies Ging; watches his every move, learning what makes Ging tick, observing the way he moves throughout life.

He gets lost in Ging’s eyes, drowning in the pool of melted chocolate, falling, falling, falling. He’s sick for enjoying how Ging makes him feel—spiteful and enraged—and he knows it.

It’s fun, messing around. Teetering the line between love and hate. Walking the tightrope woven from his emotions.

Ging tests Pariston’s limits. Ging’s actions make him feel hundreds of emotions he’s never felt before. It’s like all this time Pariston has been a caterpillar, only now changing into a beautiful butterfly capable of experiencing true desire.

Confusion itches at Pariston’s mind. Does he hate or love Ging?

“Ay, asshole! Slow down!” Ging chimes from the passenger seat, pulling Pariston from his thoughts.

Yeah, he definitely hates Ging.

The windows’ are rolled down, a gentle breeze let in. Pop music is turned down low, nearly drowned up by the weather and Ging’s rambling. A lit cigarette hangs in between Ging’s lips.

Pariston’s hands grip the wheel, eyes focused on the road ahead of him.

“Anyways, there was this dude there, his name was ‘Rial’ or something. I don’t know. He was blocking my path, telling me that I was not allowed to see the creature he had hidden. So I grabbed him by the collar—”

“Classy move.” Pariston interrupts.

“—and shoved him onto the ground and said, ‘Listen here, I’m taking that beast in your backyard and you can’t stop me.”

“Then what?” Pariston asks, sending Ging further into his story.

Ging talks again, yet Pariston can't hear him in the slightest, his thoughts drowning out Ging’s lovely voice.He doesn’t care about Ging’s story about the beast. He’s focused on thinking about Ging and how much he yearns for him.

He’s looking at Ging’s hands; slender fingers, calloused, neat nails. Perfect. He wants to hold Ging’s hand. Wants to feel the pocket of warmth over his hand.

No. He shuts these thoughts out.

At least he tries to.

They keep coming back.

There’s always two random strands of brown hair that hang in front of Ging’s forehead, Pariston notices. He loves them. Thinks they make Ging look hotter.

Shit. Pariston’s stuck in a never ending loop of Ging, Ging, Ging.

It isn’t until Ging reaches over and steadies the wheel that Pariston realizes he’s lost in thought, driving the least of his priorities.

“Pariston,” Ging groans. “Pay attention!”

The blond laughs, removing his hands off the wheel completely. “Things are much more fun with risk added to them! Don’t you think?” The car swerves, nearly crashing into the back of a worn-down red SUV with a ‘baby on board’ sticker on the back.

“Paris!” Ging pushes Pariston’s leg down, stopping the vehicle in the middle of the street. “Let’s switch places,” He unbuckles his seatbelt, Pariston doing the same.

They climb over the seats, bodies brushing against one another, Pariston’s breath catching in his throat.

Horns honk at them. Angry mothers yelling out their windows.

A smirk dances across Pariston’s face as he settles into the passenger seat.

Their hands reach for the radio. Fingers touching for a fraction of a second. Snapping back by their sides.

Ging’s cheeks flush a soft pink, the colour of sweet cotton candy.

Pariston lowers the radio.

“Aww, are you hot? Your face seems awfully red.” Pariston teases.

“No, but you are,” Ging snaps back, winking at the end.

“Oh, is that so? I would say you’re attractive but I can’t quite place my finger on the last time you bathed so I’ll refrain.”

“Suck my dick.”

“Oh!” Pariston’s mouth goes wide in faux shock. “B-but you’re driving! What if someone else sees?”

“Wouldn’t that add onto the pleasure?”

Pariston doesn’t answer, only gives a sly grin, leaning back in his seat, his heart beating with a tune of love and resentment.

“Do you even know where you’re going?”

“Of course I do.”

“Are you sure? It seems like you’re clueless. I could’ve sworn we were supposed to take that last exit.”

“Fuck off. You try driving to some fuckass state in the middle of nowhere.”

Pariston loves pushing Ging’s buttons. Sending him into the brink of anger and resentment. Making Ging hate him fills Pariston with a joy he’s never felt before. He fucks with everyone, making them want to rip their hair out and force Pariston to eat it, but messing with people other than Ging makes him feel bored after a bit. Ging always keeps Pariston running—lets Pariston’s sadistic and manipulative side run rampant.

Ging will never admit this out loud but he loves when Pariston plays with him.

They’re both benefiting from one another’s actions. Filled with a sick sort of pleasure.

“Oh, I think I could do a better job at driving than you,” Pariston chirps.

“We had to switch places because you drove like a maniac.”

“Hmmph. Is that so? I have no recollection of that ever happening…”

Ging ignores Pariston and turns the radio up.

There’s a monster living inside of Pariston. A strange creature that tears him apart and makes him question everything he’s ever known.

It only comes out to play when Ging’s around.

It whispers things to Pariston, fills his head with ‘lies’.

He runs from the monster. Runs from his feelings, refusing to believe they’re real.

He won’t confront his feelings. They’re not feasible in any sense. Why would he love Ging of all people? The one person he spites with everything in him.

He’s meant to be alone forever. He doesn’t need a hand to hold as he dies, doesn’t need someone to praise him and love him, and he certainly doesn’t need to go through the agonizing thing that is loving someone.

He can’t do this.

Alone. That’s what he is. That’s what he’ll always be.

He tries and tries and tries to make people hate him. Everyone’s anger only fuels that fucked up heart of his. Revs his engine. Ignites his match, a small flame of pleasure being lit.

Ging’s different. Changes everything about Pariston.

Pariston despises this. He craves a taste of the way things used to be. Wants to go back to the time before he started to love Ging.

Fuck. He loves Ging and knows it.

They pull into a gas station, stopping at a pump. Ging shuts off the car and they both get out.

Pariston slides his wallet into the pockets of his hoodie (a worn down grey hoodie gifted from Ging). He flings open the door of the small shop, greeting the cashier—a teen with fiery red hair and bored eyes—and walks to the back freezers.

He looks at the assortment of drinks. Should he get a few White Claws, water, or a small thing of chocolate milk? He settles on two water bottles—one for him and one for Ging—and apple juice for himself.

He grabs a pint of ice cream—strawberry—from the freezer.

He strolls over to the chip aisle. His fingers brush against every bag, occasionally knocking one down.

“Hot Cheetos or jalapeno Cheetos?” He murmurs to himself. “You can never go wrong with Hot Cheetos.

His eyes glance over at chili cheese Fritos—Ging’s favourite.

“That bastard will be mad I don’t buy some for him,” Pariston pauses. “But I want him to be happy…” He grabs the Fritos.

What the fuck is happening to him?

Why is starting to care for Ging?

What is this strange feeling coursing through him?

The sun’s manifested itself in Ging and now Pariston’s scorched by the heat. Too hot to handle. He’s burning, burning, burning. His heart ripping to shreds, torn by Ging.

Pariston loves the raw pain inside of him. He hates it too.

Ging is Pariston’s perfect match. The hidden light to his outward darkness. Ging challenges Pariston; challenges the way Pariston ticks, all of the blond’s motions, movements, thoughts, and feelings. Turns Pariston into something different.

Pariston doesn’t quite know what he wants to do with Ging.

Destroy him?

Or love him?

He could do both. Love Ging in a way that chips away Ging’s soul. Turn Ging into a broken being that begs to escape but can’t. Make Ging spiral into madness.

He doesn’t want that. It would kill him to watch Ging suffer.

He should’ve expected he’d eventually catch feelings.

Pariston gets rid of everyone he gets bored of. Yet with Ging it’s always a new experience. One that fills Pariston will an endless flurry of desire, pleasure, and need.

He shouldn’t get off to Ging being himself but he does.

Secluded in a room by himself at night he moans Ging’s name, touching himself in a sinful way, stars dancing in his vision.

What a strange feeling, wanting someone.

He grabs as much candy as he can, other items slipping out of his grasp and landing on the ground.

“We have shopping baskets y’know,” The cashier chimes in, gesturing to a stack of blue baskets.

“Right, right, of course,” Pariston picks up a basket and throws all of his food in it.

“What else should I get,” Pariston’s eyes scan the selection. In a last minute decision, he grabs more and more of Ging’s favourite snacks; sour gummy worms, watermelon gum, Twix bars, and an Almond Joy.

He can’t believe he’s doing this.

He sets the goodies on the counter.

“Your total is 1931 Jenny.”

Pariston pays and leaves with three bags in hand.

Ging’s waiting outside the car, smoking a cigarette, leaning over the hood.

“Hey, fuckface. Let’s get back on the road.”

They get into the car.

“I got you some things,” Pariston hands one of the bags to Ging. Ging looks through it, his face lighting up.

“No way! All of my favourite snacks. Thanks,” He reaches for his wallet, opening it and attempting to hand Pariston money.

Pariston shakes his head. “It’s on me.”

Ging’s eyebrows dip in confusion. “What are you getting at?”

“Nothing. I’m being nice,” Pariston removes the lid of his ice cream and scoops up a huge bite with a metal spoon he carries on him just in case. He takes a bite and swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he does. Ging looks at Pariston with yearning eyes. “Is it hard to imagine me being a decent, upstanding member of society?”

“Yes.” Ging answers without even thinking.

“Hm, what a shame! I’m an angel!”

“Quit lying,” Ging turns on the car, a soft rumble and the air conditioners coming on fill their ears. “Let me get some of that. What flavour is it?”

“Strawberry,” Pariston passes the spoon to Ging. Ging eats a bit and then licks his lips in a way that drives Pariston wild. He wants to kiss those very lips, see if they’re as soft as they look.

“Let’s get back on track,” Ging smiles and buckles in.

“Have you ever been in love?” Ging asks, suddenly.

Pariston smiles. “How does one know if they love someone?”

“Fuck, I don’t know. You think about them first thing in the morning. You want the best for them even if ‘the best’ doesn’t include you. You have a fluttering feeling inside of you whenever you talk to them.”

Fuck, Pariston thinks, that’s me with you.

“Oh, so I haven’t fallen in love yet.” Pariston lies. “Have you?”

Ging smiles, stopping the car at the red light.

“Of course. I was in love with Gon’s mother. She was one of the best things to happen to me and I wish she was still here. I’m in love right now, too. Even though I wish I wasn’t.”

“Oh? Who’s the lucky person that is on the receiving end of your love?”

“That isn’t for you to know. I’ll tell you a bit about them if you’d like,” Pariston’s eyebrows quirk up in interest.

Ging continues. “They have blonde hair that’s an unnatural colour but it looks amazing on them. Everything looks good on them. They’re conniving and manipulative but I know there’s more to them than that. On the inside they’re sweet, caring, and would do anything for those they love—or hate—both are the same for them. They challenge me in every aspect and make me grow as an individual. They’re my perfect match.”

That sounds like me. Pariston thinks.

“I’m sure they like you back too,”

Ging laughs, pressing the gas.

The sun is setting, hues of red surrounding them, as they drive on empty streets, the only two people around for miles.

“I hope they do.”

“Ugh, I’m starving.” Ging whines.

“Here, eat some chips,” Pariston hands the bag of Cheetos to Ging who scrunches his nose at the sight.

“Gross. Those things are disgusting. Red powder all over your hands after you eat them. Sickening.”

“Suit yourself.”

“Let’s get fast food.”

“What a marvelous idea!”

Ging takes an exit that leads to a street full of all sorts of fast food places. In true Ging fashion, he chooses the tackiest looking one and pulls in the drive-thru.

“Hello! Welcome to Lucifers! What can I get you?”

“Uh,” Ging looks at the menu and turns to Pariston. “What do you want?”

“Six boneless wings. Barbeque.”

“Ok, we’ll have a burger, no mayo, no pickle, the small boneless wings meal, and a coke.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes.”

“Ok, I have one burger, no mayo, no pickle, a wing meal, and a coke. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Alrighty, your total is 1239.”

Ging drives up to the window.

A lady with a hooked nose and short blonde hair hands Ging his food, giving him a soft smile as he pays. They get back on the road, their roadtrip continuing.

Pariston stabs one of his wings with a plastic fork.

“You know, you should tell your ‘crush’ that you like them.” He chews.

“No point,” Ging says. One of his hands rests on the wheel and the other holds his burger. “They don’t like me back.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do. Don’t worry about it. It’s not your issue. Stay out of it.”

“Queer,” Pariston scoffs, taking a sip of coke.

“Give me that,” Ging sets his burger down and reaches for the drink. The soda exchanges hands, fingers grazing one another. A slight fluttering feeling dancing in Pariston’s chest.

He watches Ging put his lips over the straw; the same straw that Pariston had just touched. It’s almost like they’re kissing to Pariston. His eyes sparkle and gleam as he watches Ging take slow, gentle sips.

“I’m beat,” Ging announces, rubbing at his eyes.

“Pull over, I’m tired too.”

Ging drives the car off the road, parking on the grass, nearly in the woods.

“Wake me up if it’s been more than three hours.” He closes his eyes and starts to doze off.

Within mere minutes Ging is snoring and stirring in his sleep. His hand reaches over and grabs Pariston’s.

Pariston’s breath pauses, his heart nearly stopping, a light feeling in his stomach dancing. His first thought is, “Wow, Ging’s hands are weirdly warm.” and his second is, “I like this. I like him.”

He doesn’t move Ging’s hand.

Ging’s eyelids flutters open and a soft yawn escapes him.

“Sleep well, princess?” Pariston jokes.

Ging scoffs, moving his hand off Pariston’s.

“I had a good dream.”

“What was the dream?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“What was the dream?” Pariston repeats.

Ging sighs. “You and I were on a mission to defeat this weird little guy with an umbrella. We ended up killing him and you told me something. What was it…? Ah yes; you told me you loved me and were glad to be my boyfriend. It was pleasant.”

“Sounds terrific.”

“It was.”

An awkward silence hangs in the air, thick and heavy, weighing down on them.

“You’re a strange person, Ging.”

“Elaborate.”

“I mean, what was the point of telling me that. We’re sworn enemies. Nothing more. Why would you start talking about your homoerotic dream with me?”

“You asked me to?”

“God—” Pariston throws his head in his hands and cackles. “—you’re so fucking frustrating!”

“You think you aren’t frustrating? Always giving mixed signals all the time?” Ging raises his voice.

“I’m not giving mixed signals at all. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. Get it through your head!”

“Pariston, please,” Ging’s voice is dripping with vulnerability. As if with one more word he’ll break, the glass overflowing with water. He’s sick of the games, the playing, the endless mind tricks.

“I want that dream to come true. I love you, Pariston. I’ve loved you for ages now. The person I was talking about earlier—the person I claimed I’m in love with—is you.”

Pariston isn’t surprised. He knew this all along. He refused to believe it was true, a lie the voice inside his mind told him to fuck up his headspace.

He’s comforted by this.

He doesn’t say anything. Only crashes his lips onto Ging’s, noses sliding past one another, their lips moving slowly and softly. Pariston bites at Ging’s lower lip, pulling away for the slightest sliver of time, to look into Ging’s eyes which sparkle far brighter than anything Pariston has ever seen before.

Behind Ging’s eyes lays something deeper; pure love.

For the first time it feels like Pariston truly understands Ging and his wants.

Ging’s more than the shy, obnoxious, back-talking man that Pariston thought he was. He’s caring underneath his nonchalant exterior.

He’s different from Pariston; a fact that Pariston revels in, takes pride in. After all, what’s the fun in loving someone that’s exactly like you?

Pariston kisses Ging again, with more passion and neediness. He can taste cherry chapstick and cigarettes. It’s terrible but in a charming way. Pariston wishes he could taste it forever. He nevers wants to leave this cramped car where the two of them can be alone, together, where everything is tranquil and perfect.

Pariston leans back, removing his arms from around Ging’s neck.

“Why—why are you telling me this now? Why didn’t you do it the night we hooked up? Why did you let me destroy myself over you?” He asks. His expression falters from his typical smile, his eyes wrinkled. tears threatening to slip out. He’s on the verge of crying.

“Did you want me to?”

“Of course I fucking wanted you to.”

“I’m sorry,” Ging’s Adams apple bobs in his throat as he chokes out a response. “I wanted to. I didn’t know if you loved me the way I love you. I still don’t.”

“Well I do.”

They collide once again, a mess of teeth and tongues, Pariston’s leg positioned in between Ging’s.

Ging’s hand runs through Pariston’s blond hair, fingers trailing up and down Pariston’s head.

Everything about this moment is perfect to them. Full of repressed feelings finally seeing the light, the lustful desire that is let out when their lips touch, and months and months of yearning finally having a satisfying payoff.

They’re meant for each other. Ging is Pariston’s perfect match; he’s someone that challenges Pariston, makes him change for the worst and for the better (how he manages to do both is a mystery). He thinks like Pariston; understands how Pariston does things and why he does them. And when they disagree they mess with each other in a lighthearted way.

They love each other for what one another is. They accept all the dark parts of their personalities.

Things are ever changing, the world spinning and spinning and spinning, days starting over, seasons changing, new life brought into the world, and old life leaving. But throughout all of these changes one thing remains the same no matter what happens; Ging and Pariston will always be the perfect pair.