Work Text:
“Hi, welcome to York New Cafe, what can I get for you?”
Killua was deathly sick of speaking those words. They were a rehearsed sentence, in which he would fake a smile, count the seconds to his next break, and feign interest in any small talk customers decided to attempt. Working full time at a cafe while also being a full-time college student was one of the worst decisions he could ever make, Killua decided. And yet, here he found himself on his fifteen minute break, sitting at the back of the cafe smoking his third cigarette of the day and wishing he were anywhere but here. He sat and listened for his coworker, Bisky, to rattle him about smoking at such a young age and beckon him back to work. Bisky seemed younger than him, but she was truthfully much older. Killua tried to spit in her coffee once as pay back for making him respect her, but she threatened to get him fired. Now, he has a slight fondness for her, although he would never tell her that.
He stared off at the evening sun, delighted by the colors which alarmed him his shift would be ending soon. Thanking the vibrance for its peace, he noticed a car drive by him ever-so-slowly. He wanted to roll his eyes at the absurdity that was the neon green paint job. He didn’t know whether to gag, cry, or laugh, so he settled for an eye roll and looked away.
The monstrosity of a car reminded him of how shitty his day had been. Though his cigarettes helped, they always do, he could not fully be distracted from the ache of regret in his stomach. Every day he was reminded of his mistakes when the sun went down and he drove to his small York New Apartment alone, with Cigarettes After Sex and Highly Suspect blaring far too loud and his car speeding far too fast. He reminded himself of the pain he caused others, the dread those feel when near him. Today was especially bad, as he got no sleep from the nightmares that harassed his brain.. He couldn’t hide it; porcelain skin does nothing to prevent dark circles beneath eyes. If he laughed about it, he could pretend it was an aesthetic, and he was perfectly fine.
As the sun began its final descent beneath the trees, Bisky, as if on cue, peaked her head out from the back of the cafe and urged Killua to help her with the last few drinks before closing. Sighing, he got up reluctantly, humming the melody to Serotonia.
He walked up to the counter with sullen eyes. When he looked up, he halfway thought that the sun had returned from setting, as if the moon had chosen to sleep in tonight, and the sun was on duty a little while longer. As it turns out, the moon made it to work on time, and he had simply looked into honey-gold eyes, shining at him as a sunkissed-skinned boy opened his mouth to order. Before he could, Killua said his cue line. “Hi, welcome to York New Cafe. What can I get for you this evening?”
The boy looked taken aback by the sound of Killua’s voice, and he felt his face heat up from the gaze he received. “Hi,” the golden boy said. Killua almost missed his next words, enthralled by the sweet sunset in his eyes. Like caramel, or honey, or summer. All in one place. How? “Can I actually ask for a recommendation? This is my first time ordering here, and I’m not sure what sounds good.”
Killua smiled, as this was a common request. “Considering the fact that it’s nearing night time, I would recommend a tea, or something less caffeinated than a coffee. My personal favorite for the evening is a Passion Fruit Green Tea and a honey nut muffin. The tea has a little caffeine, but if you want less you could get a white tea base instead. The honey nut muffin works well for calming, and it’s overall delicious. But if you want something else, my coworker Kurapika -”
“I’ll take a Passion Fruit Green Tea and a honey nut muffin, please, I don’t care what size.Oh, and a caramel frappuccino with extra whip, thanks!” he grinned, pulling out his wallet. Killua was confused, to say the least. Was he going to drink both of those on his own? Surely no one would order two drinks for themselves. But maybe this boy would. He was tall, and muscular. Maybe it was for protein? Or -
Killua gasped in embarrassment as pink lips asked him about the cost, realizing he had been staring. He mumbled the words, chastising himself for being so disrespectful and getting to work immediately. This moment, this one in particular, would be the reason he would attempt to overdose himself on tobacco tonight. Whether or not that was feasible, he was unsure. At the very least, he intended to smoke the rest of his pack tonight in an attempt to forget about his unkind staring at this stranger.
He made the tea slowly, so as not to mess up in his state of distraction. As he worked, he looked over and noticed the boy was talking to Bisky, and Kurapika stood nearby eavesdropping. Bisky smiled at the boy, and Killua sighed dramatically, knowing she was most definitely trying to flirt with a man much younger than her again. His suspicions were, in his opinion, confirmed when he heard the giggle and saw the boy’s grin. Angry swirls filled his stomach and he gasped. What in the absolute fuck was that?
Looking away, he placed the two drinks and his favorite muffin on the pick-up counter, calling on the boy’s number. As the boy walked up, Bisky followed from behind the counter, grabbing Killua and walking away. Killua tried to wiggle out of her grip, annoyed and overstimulated, but accepted defeat when Bisky snapped his nose. “What the fuck Bisky?”
She gigged, twirling her hair as if to feign innocence. “Killua, darling, will you relax? I have a favor to ask you.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m not helping you get a boyfriend.”
She smiled, her grin so devious Killua began to worry (but only on the inside, of course; he maintained a facade of nonchalance in front of his coworker). “You’re right, you’re not! Instead, I’m helping you get one.”
“You’re what?” His face was scarlet, her words igniting fireworks beneath his porcelain cheeks. He must have heard wrong, he was certain.
“I’m going to help you get a boyfriend! Listen, Killu, before you reject me. That young lad over there, whose order you just took, he asked your opinion so he could buy you what you like. He actually comes every morning, before your shift starts. That’s how I know him, since I’m working overtime. He asked me if you could have one more break, to enjoy a drink with him. I’m willing to cover closing if you’re willing to put yourself out there a little. Even if it’s just to make a friend. Please, Killu, you’re exhausted.”
Killua considered the options. He could continue working his entire shift, or he could enjoy his favorite evening snack with the small burden of awkward small-talk with some nosy stranger. Though his brain said he should work, his stomach told him otherwise, and he agreed to Bisky’s stupid plan.
“You owe me!” she giggled. “Good luck, Killu. I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay?”
“See you, Biscuit.”
He walked to the table the boy sat at, his spiky hair guiding him through the small cafe. Killua sat across the table from him, reluctant to look up.
The two sat in silence for a minute, until the boy chose to speak up. “Hi,” he said, speaking low as if not to startle him, “I’m Gon. I, uh, I got you a tea. I hope it’s not creepy… you just looked so tired, and I though maybe -”
“Thank you,” Killua said, faking a smile as he looked into the boy’s eyes. Gon, your eyes are made of sunsets. I wonder if you know that. “I’m Killua.”
“I know,” Gon giggled.
“You do?”
“Yeah, you have a name-tag, silly!”
“Oh… I do. That’s embarrassing,” he sighed, feeling his cheeks once again warm. He’s got to find a way to fix that, to stop blushing immediately. It’s obnoxious.
Gon stopped giggling, sipping his frappuccino and pushing Killua’s muffin closer to him. After a moment of silence, Killua assumed his queries got the best of him. “Can I ask you a question?”
Silence. Then, “Sure.”
More silence. “Do you smoke often?”
Oh. Killua sighed, looking away from marigold eyes. “Kind of? I mean, I smoke on my breaks -”
“How many breaks do you have?”
“ - Three. But I don’t smoke much during the day, just at night -”
“How many cigarettes do you smoke at night?”
“ - I don’t know, four maybe?”
Gon frowned as he took another sip of his coffee, and for a second Killua swore he felt another swirl of… something in his stomach. It frightened him. He wanted to leave, to go home and drown himself in smoke and ashes.
Right as he was about to create some scenario that would excuse him from this event, a girl came running up to their table. She had mascara smeared down her cheeks, curly hair pressed thin from stressed hands. “Gon! I went to our restaurant to find you, and you weren’t there! So I asked one of the workers, and they told me you were here. And now, I find you sitting here with some guy?! You’re a total fucking douche! The worst boyfriend! I’m so mad I could break up with you!”
Killua sat back, wide-eyed. This boy had a girlfriend? And he was here, at the York New Cafe, at nine o’clock, buying him tea? What in the actual fuck? Killua felt the angry swirls in his stomach again, and decided this day couldn't get any worse. Was he seriously having stomach pain right now?
Gon, surprisingly, looked almost as shocked as Killua. Was he a good actor, or did he also not have a clue as to what was going on here? “.. Palm? What are you talking about?”
She sobbed, whining, “Our restaurant, Gon! Don’t you remember? We see each other there every night!”
“Newest York Diner?” She nodded. “Palm, I work there. I don’t go there to see you.”
“But!” She whines, more makeup running down her face. “You’re always so nice to me! You bring me food!”
“That’s my job, dear.”
“So… we’re not dating?”
Gon sighed. “No, Palm. I’m sorry,” he grabbed Killua’s hand, twisting his stomach into knots, “but I actually have a boyfriend. His name is Killua. I came to see him at work.”
“You wh-” Killua began, but Gon squeezed his hand and looked at him with a pleading gaze. He sighed, wishing he had just worked the rest of his shift. He was being used, wasn’t he? “Yes, Palm, is it? This is my boyfriend, Gon.”
The words made his mouth twist at the corners, and he felt his face warm again. He decided to ignore the awkward twists in his stomach, starting to understand what it meant (and hating himself for it).
Palm began to sob. “I’m breaking up with you! And I’m never visiting Newest York Diner again! I can’t believe you would cheat on me!” She ran out of the cafe with clots of mascara smeared across her face.
Gon let out a shocked fit of laughter, releasing Killua’s hand. His laughter subsided, though, when he looked over and saw Killua’s distressed face. Frowning, he reached for his hand again, but the silver-haired boy looked away. Gon frowned harder. “Killua? I-I’m sorry, I just didn’t know how to tell her no. I swear to you I don't know her. I wanted to talk to you. I saw you smoking, and you looked sad and alone, and you’re too beautiful and nice to be sad and alone and please, I want to get to know you.”
“You’re embarrassing,” Killua mused. Then, “I don’t like being used.”
“I never would use you,” Gon pleaded. “Cam I take you home, at least?”
Killua laughed, amused by the enthusiasm in those honey eyes. “Gon, my car?”
“I’ll pick you up first thing tomorrow morning! I’ll buy you tea, and we can drive before you have work or class! Please? Let me show you that I’m not a bad guy. Let me make it up to you!”
“You must be insane!”
“Is that a yes?”
Killua thought for a minute. Really thought. He just met this guy tonight. He could easily kill him. Was he really considering letting him give him a ride home tonight? Was he going to give this stranger his address? It was insane!
But his eyes looked like honey, and his hands were warm, and he bought him a tea and made him want to stop smoking and made his stomach hurt and
“Don’t murder me. I’m DJ.”
and maybe he was worth trying for.
*
When Apocalypse by Cigarettes After Sex came on, and Gon looked at him as he sang, “Your lips, my lips, apocalypse,” Killua felt his stomach churn again, and found himself having a new favorite song.