Chapter Text
It started with a phone call. Wasn’t that usually how these things went? The woman on the other end's voice dripped with foreign affliction and sounded like she smoked at least a pack of cigarettes a day, which likely wasn’t far from the truth. Killua had been wiping the kitchen counter down when the phone rang. She identified herself as Ivana, and wanted to speak to Touma. Touma, Killua’s boyfriend of the last nearly four years, was at work. When informed of this the woman cussed and told Killua, with her strange accent;
“Tell that rat fucker Touma he still owe Ivana money for sucking his cock.”
Killua politely informed Ivanka that he would pass the message along and set the phone back down on the receiver.
And this was why Killua found himself on the couch, drinking an extremely expensive bottle of cognac. Touma’s cognac, specifically; the funny part was, Killua couldn’t get drunk if he wanted to. He was drinking it purely out of spite. Around him, the house was a mess. Every photo of him and Touma was knocked off the wall. Outside, floating in the pool and littering the lawn, was every piece of clothing his boyfriend owned. He had stood on the balcony off their bedroom on the second floor pitching them out; the heavy stuff, like jeans and suits, made it the farthest and were currently soaking in chlorine water. The lighter shirts only made it a few feet from the window before fluttering helplessly to the ground.
After Touma’s closet had been emptied, Killua moved on to his shoe rack. All those stupid expensive designer shoes made him feel sick to look at. Touma really thought he was something, thought he was invincible, thought he could do whatever he wants and fuck whoever he wants because of his money. His stupid illegal blood money at that; Killua was no fool, he knew why Touma didn’t talk about what he did for work. It was sort of hard not to notice when your boyfriend was involved with organized crime. Yeah, the shoes made him sick, filled him with such a bitter rage it was practically unreasonable. So he took them and put them in the bathtub, turning on the water and stopping the drain. He dumped every single pair into the bathtub before turning off the water, leaving them to soak. Then he grabbed the cognac, which likely had cost more than the couch he was sitting on (and it was a lovely couch) and started drinking like tomorrow would never come.
In retrospect, it wasn’t something he didn’t know. Killua had suspected for a long time that Touma was screwing around on him- I mean for fucks sake, he wasn’t dumb and blind. All those nights Touma would come home late, unfamiliar perfumes or colognes clinging to his collar, sleazy cat-like grin on his face. All that time he spent hanging out at his friend’s strip club, getting lap dances and god knows what else done to him. All those random thousand dollar expenses on their credit card statements, to jewlers and florists and boutiques. Killua knew he certainly wasn’t the one on the receiving end of those expenses. When confronted, Touma would smirk and write it off as “business expenses.”
“You gotta spend money to make money, babe,” he would tell Killua. “Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”
Trust him. Wasn’t that funny?
The two had been together going on four years now. Sometimes Killua could hardly believe it; it all seemed like it happened so fast, and had whipped by so fast, but four years was a decent length of time to be with someone. That was a sixth of the life he’s lived so far. The two had met when Killua was eighteen and Touma was twenty two; they had fallen for each other fast and hard, and within a couple months of dating Killua found himself moving into Touma’s house. Alluka was away at school at the time, and Touma didn’t like the idea of Killua living on his own.
The two were young and full of passion, two flames dancing together and ready to combust. They put their whole hearts into everything they did; they loved hard, fought hard, had incredible sex. They constantly fed into each other, fueling each other's chaotic energy, Killua holding the gas and Touma holding the matches. It was the first time Killua had felt love outside of Gon, and Touma was so different from Gon in every way. Where Gon was childlike and innocent, Touma was calculated and experienced. Gon could be manipulative without realizing; he wasn’t without his faults, clearly. Yet when Touma manipulated, it was with intent, his mind constantly turning. Any time Killua had been on the verge of just walking away and being done with it, Touma would know just what to say or do to coax him back. While Gon had (for the most part) been sweet and loving to Killua, Touma could say and do some of the cruelest things. Killua could be pretty cruel himself. When the two would fight, the words flying across the room were said with the intention of cutting deep and hurting one another. Sometimes the fights would get physical, and while Killua would hit back he never used his full strength on Touma. In fact, he used his full strength so little he sometimes would forget that he even had it at all. The two never used nen on eachother, never daring to cross that line, and more often than not their fights that got physical ended in sex that was beyond Killua’s wildest dreams.
He reflects on his life with Touma, surrounded by broken glass from smashed photo frames. The glass reflects the lamplight and shines on the floor. Killua has drunk more than half of the Cognac and is mid-sip when he hears the sound of the front door unlocking. His boyfriend was home. Good. Killua wanted to have a chat with him.
“The fuck is this?” Touma’s orotund voice cuts through the silence Killua had been sitting in. “Why’s all this shit broken? You throw a party or something?”
Killua doesn’t say anything, just stares at his boyfriend with icy anger flickering in his red-rimmed eyes. He raises the bottle and takes another sip, letting Touma see what else he’s done.
“Is that my fucking cognac?” There’s clear annoyance in the tone now, the beginning blooms of anger. “What the hell, Kil? You don’t even drink. You know how fucking expensive that shit is? The fuck is your problem?”
“One of your whores called today.” Killua states, an incredulous look flashing over Touma’s features.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“One of your whores, Touma. They called the house today.” Killua takes another sip of the cognac, fighting back a grimace at the taste.
“I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Ivana? You don’t know her? She says you owe her money for a blowjob.”
“And you believe that shit?” Touma yells, finally starting to snap. “I mean really? Jesus fucking christ.”
“Why shouldn’t I believe it?” Killua yells back, voice raw. “You don’t think I know that you’ve been fucking around on me? And now you’ve got your whores calling our house? Talking to me?”
“Wow, some fucking boyfriend I’ve got, so full of trust. Do you hear yourself Killua? You sound delusional.”
“Fuck you! ” Killua blindly chucks the bottle of alcohol; it hits the stone hearth above the fireplace and shatters, adding to the collection of smashed glass on the floor. “Fuck you Touma!”
“Look at you, you’re fucking deranged! Sick in the fucking head! I don’t need this shit. Fuck me. I’ll be in the shower.”
He starts storming up the stairs, leaving Killua silently steaming but still half smug, waiting for his boyfriend to find the mess he’s made. Sure enough, after only a couple minutes he can hear Touma bellowing with rage. He must have found the designer shoe soup that Killua had made in their bathtub. There’s the sound of frantic running upstairs, of water being drained from the tub and slipping down the pipes in the walls with a gurgle. A string of belligerent curses drifts down from upstairs, and Killua can’t help but feel satisfied. He gets off the couch and heads to the kitchen, searching through the dry bar for the bottle he thought would be the second most expensive. He pops it open to the sound of Touma flying down the stairs, and is taking a sip when Touma finds him in the kitchen. His face is burning red with anger. Killua keeps his face completely expressionless.
“All my fucking shoes, really?” Touma’s voice comes out low and lethal. “And where the fuck are my clothes?”
“Pool. Mostly. Some are on the grass,” It’s the total nonchalance in his voice combined with the freshly opened and very expensive bottle of whiskey that pushes Touma over the edge. Killua gets roughly slammed up against the counter, the marble digging into his spine, and the back of Touma’s hand comes in hard contact with his face. He can taste blood immediately and laughs.
“You think this is fucking funny?” Touma demands, shaking him harshly, causing the bottle to slide out of his hand and onto the floor where it (surprisingly) doesn’t break. “I oughta drown you in the fucking pool. You know how much money you just fucking cost me?”
“Oh please, you probably spend more on sex in a week,” Killua shoves the man off him. “You’re fucking pathetic.”
This time Killua gets slammed into the fridge, two hands around his neck, squeezing hard enough to prevent any air from escaping his lungs. It hurts, but Killua still glares at Touma defiantly.
“You’re an ungrateful little bitch, you know that?” Touma snarls at him, hands tightening around his neck, making Killua squirm involuntarily, bringing up his own hands to try and pry away Touma’s. “After everything I fucking do for you, all the fucking money I spend on you, fucking brand new Jeep, and this is how you fucking repay me?” He squeezes Killua’s neck even tighter, shaking him.
Killua manages to sharply connect his elbow with the other’s ribs, knocking him backwards. “Fuck you Touma,” he manages to cough out, feeling the burn as the air rushes back into his lungs. “I never asked for any of that shit.”
“Well I certainly didn’t hear you say no, you fucking whore.”
“That’s rich, Toum. Really rich.”
The older of the two is heading outside now through the sliding glass door leading out of the kitchen, and Killua follows on his heels. He watches his boyfriend start picking up the clothes that have landed in the grass and gets the idea to start picking them up too. He takes them over and dumps them in the pool, which enrages Touma further. Which is exactly what Killua wants. He wants to hurt his boyfriend just like he had been hurt. This, naturally, escalates the situation into a full blown brawl in the yard, punching and slapping and biting and screaming words so nasty to each other that Killua wouldn’t be shocked if the neighbors called the police. At some point, the punches and slaps turn to rough kisses and touches, both men covered in blood and melting into each other. Killua’s whole body felt hot, this was a fire he couldn’t help but crave, even though it made him feel sick and disgusting and full of shame.
Even though the sun had gone down, there was still enough light leaking out from the house for Killua to watch as Touma fumbled in his back pocket for something. His wallet- he always kept a package or two of single use lube in his wallet. Killua wonders who else he uses it on, and that thought makes him furious, so he pulls Touma back in for another heated, bruising kiss. The ground is hard under his back and his shirt is going to be ruined with blood and grass stains, but he doesn’t care. He needs this, and he doesn’t understand why. He can feel his body starting to shake. The stars in the sky twinkle overhead and he lets Touma roughly take him, turning his cries from angry to wanton. This was just life with Touma; lighter fluid and matches.
----------
Killua sweeps the glass up the next morning and fishes the rest of Touma’s clothes out of the pool with a skimmer, throwing them into the wash to see if they’re going to be salvageable. His whole body is sore, but he can’t deny that he had two of the most mind blowing orgasms of his life last night. He’s still filled with bitter resentment for Touma, how could he not be? But fuck it was so hard to break away from this fucked up dance the two of them involved in. Every part of his body seemed to crave Touma’s love, whatever that meant. He transfers the wash to the dryer, puts on a pair of ridiculously oversized sunglasses, and goes to meet Kurapika for lunch.
Like nothing ever happened.
It’s been a good couple weeks or longer since he’s seen Kurapika, who had texted him a few days prior and asked him to meet up. That morning, eyeing the finger shaped bruises on his neck and black eye and swollen lip, Killua had really considered canceling. It was probably the most reasonable thing to do- but Killua didn’t want to cancel. He missed Kurapika, missed his friends, missed interacting with people other than Touma and the shady men he brought around to talk business with (never in front of Killua, of course). So he threw on a soft gray turtleneck and a pair of silly sunglasses and headed out to the cafe Kurapika had suggested they meet at. Touma had left for work hours ago.
It’s nice to be out of the house, even if people are giving him sort of odd looks. He knows he probably looks ridiculous, wearing a turtleneck when it was warm and muggy, and it was obvious he was a bit bedraggled. What did he care? He’d been an assassin and a hunter all his life, it wasn’t like injuries were any new thing to him. Besides, this was a walk in the park compared to 99% of his childhood. People could think whatever they wanted about him; fuck em.
Kurapika frowns at Killua’s get-up when the white haired boy finds him in the cafe and plops down across from him, hot chocolate in hand. “Hey. Nice sunglasses.”
“Thank you. They’re Chanel.”
“Of course they are. And the turtleneck is a… fashion statement?”
“It’s chic, right?” Knowing that Kurapika isn’t an idiot he forces a laugh that sounds genuine enough. “Actually, I just have a few hickies I needed to hide.” It’s a clever lie, or at least he thinks so. Kurapika makes a face.
“You’re twenty two and he’s still giving you hickies?”
“Hey, I like what I like,” Killua shrugs. “Doesn’t Leorio ever give you hickies?”
“No. Because we’re grown.”
“Sounds boring,” Killua sticks out his tongue. “You’re missing out.”
“So are the split lip and black eye you’re clearly trying to hide related to the hickies, or…?”
“Jeeze, so many questions. Actually, I was fighting at Heaven’s Arena. Had some steam to blow off. And no, nobody there gave me hickies. They wish.”
Kurapika doesn’t really believe it. It wasn’t the first time in the last couple years Killua had shown up covered in bruises he had weak explanations for; even if Killua had been fighting in Heaven’s Arena, the odds of someone actually landing blows on him there were pretty slim. He outranked just about everyone there, and if it was a fight against a major player like Hisoka, Kurapika surely would have heard about it. Beyond that, he’s had suspicions about Touma for a while. The guy was quite frankly very shady. He’s torn between wanting to call Killua out and wanting to give him space; he decides on the latter, for now. It wasn’t the right time to piss Killua off; he actually had a reason for wanting to meet up.
“So how have things been?” He settles on asking, watching as the younger man takes a sip of his cocoa and cards a finger through the snowy mop of fluff on the top of his head.
“Can’t really complain. We just got a couple new lawn chairs.”
“Your life really is full of endless excitement.” Killua snorts at this. Kurapika’s deadpan deliveries get him every time.
“Each day is certainly a new adventure. So how about you? How are things going with the good doctor?”
“Leorio actually proposed to me last weekend.” Killua’s jaw drops and Kurapika can’t help but giggle.
“You’re kidding!”
“I’m serious,” he holds out the hand he’s purposely kept hidden under the table, showing off the ring. Rose gold and dainty, with a gorgeous marquise diamond, adorned on both sides with three smaller flecks of diamonds.
“Holy shit!” Killua couldn’t stop his mouth from hanging open like an idiot, studying the ring with a marvelled expression. Finally he snaps his mouth shut, a big grin taking over his face. “Well god damn! It’s about time!”
“I have been waiting very patiently. I honestly thought he was going to propose last Christmas.”
“But he bought you a smart watch instead,” Killua cackles at the memory. Leorio could be so oblivious sometimes. “You don’t even wear that watch.”
“It’s a hideous watch.”
They both laugh, Killua’s heart feeling warm and full. Kurapika had been wanting this for so long, but he had been scared of pressuring Leorio. The blonde really had no idea how whipped Leorio was for him, or at least that’s what Killua thought. He had told Kurapika many times to just tell Leorio he wanted to get married, but the Kurta had refused, stating that he didn’t want to scare Leorio off. Kurapika could be just as oblivious as Leorio, in that sense.
“So when’s the wedding?” Killua wiggled his brows, not that his friend could really see behind the glasses. “I’m assuming I’m in your wedding party, right?”
“Way to get ahead of yourself. If you’re in the wedding party, you’ll have to wait and find out with everyone else.” Killua rolls his eyes at this. “The wedding will be in November.”
“Five months, huh? Are you nervous?”
“I think Leorio’s more nervous than me,” Kurapika laughs. “I thought he was going to cry looking at the prices of the different venues.”
“He always acts like he’s so broke, what a miser.”
“Well, we can’t all have boyfriends that buy us Chanel sunglasses.”
“Don’t forget these sweet Gucci slides,” Killua sticks one of his feet out from under the table and wiggles it. His grin is toothy, his sharp canines making him resemble a cat. “Anyway, so you can’t tell me if I’m in your wedding party yet. Am I allowed to know who else is?”
“Hmm. Well, Leorio wants Zepile and Gon.”
“Oh, Gon?” The smile slides from his face. Killua can’t help but feel a knot of tension start to form in his stomach. Of course Gon would be in Leorio’s wedding party, it made sense, but he was caught up in wedding excitement and hadn’t really considered it at all. He hadn’t seen Gon in what, almost ten years now. Not since they parted ways at the World Tree. What would Gon be like now? Would he still consider Killua to be his friend? Would he approve of his lifestyle? Killua didn’t think Gon would approve, not if he knew the truth. He didn’t really think anyone would approve if they knew how truly explosive his relationship with Touma was. Gon had always known Killua better than anyone else, even himself sometimes; would he pick up on things the others didn’t? The whole situation made him feel uneasy, but he forces himself to turn up his lips, to speak as cheerfully as he can, since this wasn’t about him right now; it was about Kurapika and Leorio. “It will be nice to see Gon after all this time.”
“He’s missed you a lot, you know.”
“I’m sure.”
“You’ve missed him too.” It wasn’t a question.
“Of course.”
“But you don’t respond to his emails.”
“It’s just… It’s complicated. I’m still excited to see him. I’m excited for you and Leorio more, though.”
“Yeah, well. I’ll admit, I’m pretty excited too.”
The two laugh, and share plans and ideas for the wedding for a while. Eventually the knot in Killua’s stomach gets forgotten about; he’s happy to be around Kurapika, to be away from Touma, to be able to forget about his reality for a little while.
A teeny part of Killua really just doesn’t want to go home.