Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“And with one final reminder to choose your own destiny, even if it seems like the riskier choice, Robert Frost solidifies himself as one of the most famous poets of all time. ‘The Road Not Taken’ reinforces the idea of forging your own path in life, the idea that one choice could make a world of difference.”

This gets a snort out of Killua, the idiocy of the statement bringing him back into full consciousness.

Professor Netero raises his eyebrows and gestures toward Killua. “Is there something you’d like to add, Mister…?”

Oh, great.

“It’s Killua. Zoldyck,” Killua replies, suppressing a yawn. Day two of the semester and already half-falling asleep in class isn’t the most ideal scenario, but it’s not like he’s really enthralled with the topic of American poetry anyway, so what’s the problem with catching up on a few REM cycles here and there?

He rubs one of his eyes, straightening out his posture and letting out a soft chuckle. “Sorry, Professor, it’s just, that’s not the point of the poem at all.”

“Oh, God,” the girl next to Killua mutters, slumping back into her chair. The girl in question, Killua’s longest friend, Palm Siberia, had told Killua that she didn’t think that he would make it even two weeks into the semester without getting on another professor’s shit list. Two days, though, was almost impressive.

Something flickers in Professor Netero’s eyes, too quick to be overtly noticeable, and a subtle smirk grows on his face. “Would you care to share what is, then, the point of the poem, Mister Zoldyck?"

Killua’s surprised; not at the question - that was to be expected - but at the sincerity with which Professor Netero asked it. Not a hint of bitterness to be found, not even satirical in tone. An actual, earnest question.

Weird.

“I mean, Frost fully admitted that this poem is satirical,” Killua starts. “The idea that one single choice can ‘make a world of difference’? He’s mocking it. He doesn’t think that’s true, and he’s making fun of people who overthink everything and think that they’re special by going against societal norms. This poem is just his long-winded way of saying, ‘Yeah, cool, you think you’re making all these life-altering decisions every day, but no one decision is really all that special. Also, neither are you, and you think you’re taking a unique path, but about half of all people who have faced this same decision have taken the same path as you, so the path isn’t really less traveled after all.’ He literally says this, like, halfway through the poem, that both roads ahead of him have been worn about the same.”

The class is silent, save for the sounds of some students hurriedly scribbling notes into their notebooks or the keyboard clicks of others who, like Killua, also don’t care about being here.

Professor Netero chuckles to himself once, twice, the second time closing his eyes and shaking his head. “Well, you’ve both saved you and your classmates a several-assignments-long lesson and forced me to come up with a replacement lesson for this for the first semester in twelve years.”

Murmurs fill the classroom and Killua scrunches his eyebrows in confusion. “Sorry, what? Why?”

“Because for the first assignment of this course, I usually ask students to rewrite ‘The Road Not Taken’ in their own, more personal, words. Next, we review those rewrites and analyze the differences. The situations that students write about often resonate with other students in the class, which leads to the second assignment: Rewriting the poem from the perspective of someone who has already walked down that same ‘less traveled’ path and is looking back, encouraging the person at the crossroads to choose their path.” Professor Netero stands, starting to walk across the front of the classroom to more broadly address the entire class.

“Next class,” he continues, “we read those over, and the situations have expanded; again, students often have written about similar situations, so at this point, we’ve heard perspectives from students faced with the same decision but having made different choices. So, the next assignment asks to write once again from the perspective of the person who has already walked down the writer’s chosen path, but this time as if they are speaking to someone who has gone down the other path, and this time as more of a narrative than a poem. At this point, some students catch on before the next class session. We reconvene and compare the progression of the poetry. We discuss the question of how the two people who took two different paths are able to have a conversation. Where do they meet? What positions are they in? Did the paths really lead them down such different roads? Are there others with them? If so, can we really say that one of the paths has been tangibly less traveled, or that the decision is all that groundbreaking? And we arrive at the conclusion that you’ve just laid out, just several weeks and assignments later.”

Palm stares at Professor Netero with wide eyes and mouth agape before shifting her gaze to Killua, whose eyes are still narrowed.

“So,” Killua starts, “you lied?”

“About?”

“About Frost’s message by writing the poem. About how one decision can make a world of difference or whatever. You lied?”

“I shared a guiding lesson, albeit a misconception often taught in a majority of analytical poetry courses involving this poem. But, in essence, I suppose I delivered it in the traditional and misconceived way for the purposes of greater discussion and understanding across a longer timeframe.”

Killua scoffs, partially out of disbelief but partially out of sheer impression. “Nice. Well, sorry for screwing your lesson plan, Professor.”

Professor Netero smiles softly. “No need to apologize. It’s been a while since I’ve been forced to learn something new in my own classroom.” He pulls up his wrist to check his watch. “With that excitement, class is over. You can all thank your classmate Mister Zoldyck for the absence of an assignment this week. I’ll see you all next Tuesday.”

The class begins to file out of the small lecture hall, several students clapping Killua’s shoulder or giving him quick “way to go, man”’s as gratitude for saving them a few hours of work. Killua grabs his bag from under his seat and goes to throw a strap over his shoulder when Professor Netero speaks up again.

“Mister Zoldyck,” he starts, and Killua looks up to see him putting a stack of papers into his briefcase at his desk. “Nice work today. And, if I may be so bold as to make this assumption, you don’t need to use the honorific when addressing me. I find it far too formal at times and I get the impression that you agree. Isaac would be just fine.”

Palm snorts and Killua juts his heel into the side of her ankle, making her wince. Killua chokes back a laugh.

“Oh, yeah, sure. Isaac it is. And thanks. And, uh, same. I mean, same like you can just call me by my first name. ‘Mister Zoldyck’ reminds me of my father.”

Isaac smiles gently as he clasps his briefcase shut. “Killua it is. Have a great week, you two.”

Killua gives a tight smile, riddled with internal discomfort, and U-turns out of the classroom to make a quick exit. Palm hurries after him, laughing loudly once they’re out.

“So, Mister Zoldyck, any other poems you’d like to analyze? Maybe I can show you some that I wrote about your brother when I was a kid and you can break them down into their deepest meanings for me.”

“Palm, I’m going to kick you again, and it’s going to be in the shin, and it’s going to hurt. Bad.”

Palm laughs as Killua swings open the door in front of them both, exiting the humanities hall and making their way toward the campus center. Finally catching up enough to walk side-by-side, Palm jests, “I think Netero is probably the first professor I’ve ever seen not be immediately pissed off at you within thirty seconds of you opening your mouth in class.”

Killua deadpans, “It’s one of my many talents,” and hangs a tight left around the quad, narrowly avoiding a rogue frisbee. It’s the last full week of August and students are taking full advantage of the nice weather while it lasts by playing pickup sports outside, tying up hammocks between neighboring trees, and claiming spots to lounge in the shade atop comforters pulled straight from their beds (which, Killua imagines with a grimace, they’ll throw right back on, dirt and all, once the day is over). “I’ve gotta say, I was expecting him to give me some shit after class when he called me out. Wasn’t really expecting him to double down on a compliment.”

“Or ask you to go all first name basis.”

“Or that.”

Killua’s stride lengthens to keep pace with Palm whose legs measure a good three inches longer than his, but if anyone asks why, it’s because he wants to make sure he gets a fresh chocolate chip cookie from the cafeteria before they’re all gone for the day. “Why are you always walking so damn fast?”

Palm chuckles and seems to take this as a challenge, picking up the pace just enough to send Killua into a mild speed walk. “I’m just walking. Some of us have model-long legs that get us where we need to go, you know.”

“Too bad they couldn’t have matched them with some model-good looks.”

Palm scoffs, looking over (behind) at Killua to see a chuckle being held behind tight lips curled inwards and wide, faux-innocent eyes. “I’m texting Ikalgo to make sure there are no cookies left for the lunch rush before we get inside.”

Killua gasps - a genuine, “don’t people only gasp like this in tv shows?” gasp - and catches back up with Palm. “I’m sorry, you’re incredible, you’re amazing, you’re the best and most beautiful ex-girlfriend I have, and actually it’s so unfair that they made you so pretty because they definitely didn’t leave enough for all the other girls.”

“One, you’re correct, thank you. Two, I’m the only ex-girlfriend you have, but even that’s an exaggeration considering we dated for three weeks and went on one date chaperoned by Gotoh at the bowling alley. And three, learn to build me up without tearing other women down. It’s a turn-off.”

Killua blinks at her. “You’re legitimately crazy.”

“Four, don’t call women crazy!”

“I’m not calling women crazy, I’m calling you crazy.”

“I’m a pretty good representative for all women.”

“Okay, then yeah, I am calling women crazy.”

Palm and Killua laugh as they walk into the campus center, welcoming the cool from the air conditioner surrounding them and making their way downstairs to the cafeteria level. They head towards their table and see Ikalgo already holding down the fort with three drinks already in place - an iced coffee for him, a green juice for Palm, and an entirely too-large cola for Killua.

“Dude, I need you to know that I am embarrassed every single time I get here before you guys and need to get your sugar juice,” Ikalgo says, wholly too serious, as Killua and Palm drop their bags at their chairs.

Ikalgo Kai was an early and welcome addition to Palm and Killua’s inner circle (more accurately, an inner line) at the beginning of college. Ikalgo and Killua had almost every general education requirement together during their freshman and sophomore years, so a combination of assigned partners and at-will study groups quickly resulted in the two becoming each other’s best friends. Surprisingly, Palm was ecstatic about Ikalgo entering the group; the two of them got along great, but more importantly, Palm was happy Killua had another friend to hang out with so that she could have more girl time. 

“It’s not that I don’t love you, it’s just that sometimes I need to go have girl talk, but I know if I don’t have dinner with you, you’ll just eat by yourself in the dining hall, and that’s really sad,” Palm had said early in the second semester of her sophomore year, Killua and Ikalgo’s freshman year. “ And don’t worry, I won’t get jealous. He may be your new best friend - I get it, bros and all that - but I’m your longest friend, and that’s an indisputable title, bitch.”

An actuarial math major, Ikalgo was threateningly book smart and horrendously not street smart. It’s not that his social skills were lacking - he was quite good at befriending others and making them feel comfortable around him if his membership in YC’s most popular fraternity suggested anything - but drop him three blocks from campus without a phone and it was a real question whether or not he would successfully make it back to his room.

Thankfully, since a lot of Killua and Palm’s industrial engineering math courses overlapped with Ikalgo’s actuarial requirements, their schedules for the year had a healthy amount of overlap. But, more importantly, their sacred mutual lunch break each day stayed intact, as did their table.

Perhaps the least desirable table on the lower level of the campus center, the “Table for the Golden Trio”, as they so humbly named it, sat against the back wall. It wasn’t so far out of the way that students flocked to it to stay hidden and tucked into a corner, but it wasn’t the most accessible or easy to get to from the food area. That, and an enormous potted dracaena trifasciata plant sandwiched the table between itself and the wall, both essentially taking up a spot for a chair and restricting the table from really being moved in any meaningful way. Hence, the perfect table for three.

Hence, the Table for the Golden Trio.

“You’re so dramatic, Iggy,” Palm sighs before taking a sip of her juice. “You’re also not better than everybody else because you drink your coffee black.”

“Oh no, I’m for sure better than everyone else, it’s just that my drink of choice isn’t why.”

“Right, true, my bad.”

Killua takes a long sip of his soda, the fizzle on his tongue giving him a second wind for the day, before joining the conversation. “We’ve been doing this for, like, a majority of at least the last eighteen months. You think you’d be over it by now. Or at least be aware of the fact that not a single person is paying attention to your beverages of choice. I, on the other hand, don’t want anyone to think I have the flavor preferences of a sixty-year-old man when I have to get your coffee.”

Ikalgo rolls his eyes. “You just said no one is paying attention to what drinks you get.”

Killua smirks. “No, I said no one is paying attention to what drinks you get.”

“Oh, please,” Palm replies, standing to make the first move to get food. “No offense, but you have a knack for being unnoticeable.”

“Gee, thanks, Palm.”

“I said no offense!”

Ikalgo laughs as the three split off to grab lunch. Palm gets a chicken caesar salad with a side of fries, a meal she dubs “a classic example of womanhood”; Ikalgo opts for a fresh chicken pesto panini, extra roasted red peppers; and Killua indulges in the Tuesday cafeteria specialty, chicken stir-fry, with a handful of chocolate truffles for dessert because, of course, they were already out of cookies.

“I seriously don’t understand how you aren’t at least sixty pounds heavier than you are,” Ikalgo jokes between bites.

Killua, not having the same courtesy to wait, says during a bite, “I have the metabolism of a god.”

“He is unfortunately not lying,” Palm comments, dipping a fry into the side of caesar dressing. “When we were kids, he ate even more sugar than he does now. His parents could not get him to eat a vegetable to save his life. Meanwhile, he stayed so thin that the breeze could knock him over.”

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration.”

“Nah, I’m gonna choose to believe it,” Ikalgo says, prompting Killua to roll his eyes.

Palm, deciding she’s had enough of the topic of Killua’s metabolic prowess, changes the subject. “Anyways, Killua, don’t you have your meeting with Wing today?”

“The guidance counselor?” Ikalgo asks.

“Yeah,” Killua groans, unwrapping a truffle and popping it into his mouth. “In, like, fifteen minutes. He requested a meeting with me right before the semester started and gave absolutely zero context. He even spelled my name wrong in the email. I mean, am I supposed to feel confident about his guidance with that?”

“Dude, he’s the counselor for, like, the entire Shingen STEM College. He has hundreds of students to deal with.”

“Okay, then either leave me alone or spell my name right.”

“I’ve got to agree with him on this one,” Palm says, nodding her head toward Killua who is already noshing on his second truffle and unwrapping his third. “Spelling someone’s name right is, like, the bare minimum, especially when the name is literally in your email address.”

“Okay, yeah, that’s fair,” Ikalgo agrees. “You think it’s about you graduating early? Do you have to submit some form?”

“I did that over the summer and it already got approved, so hopefully not. That shit was so annoying to fill out.”

Palm laughs. “By that, he means it took him more than twenty minutes to complete.”

“Exactly. I could be doing so much other stuff with that time.”

“Like what?”

“Like not filling out the form.”

Ikalgo snorts and Palm shakes her head, smiling. “You’re an idiot,” she says.

“Thank you,” Killua replies, standing, trash in hand. “As much as I love being bullied, I should probably leave now since the guidance building is on the other side of campus.”

“Let us know how it goes!” Ikalgo says, tossing the foil from his sandwich onto Killua’s tray. Killua throws back a thumbs up as a reply before dropping his trash tray off at the drop-off counter and heading upstairs.

The few clouds in the sky had parted during lunch, allowing the sun to beat down more aggressively, and as Killua steps outside and puts his earbuds in, he feels the heat surround him and hopes he avoids getting a sunburn on the walk.

Pressing the play button on Mother Mother’s “Hayloft”, Killua puts his phone into his pocket and heads back across the quad towards the guidance building. More students have congregated outside, opting to eat their lunch in the fresh air, and Killua is actually grateful for the crowd of people sitting around since it means fewer students are running around and the odds of another frisbee near-incident are much lower.

Walking through the sea of people, Killua doesn’t notice any familiar faces that risk stopping him, and for that, he’s grateful. Palm’s comments on Killua’s noticeability weren’t exactly accurate; it’s not that other people don’t often notice Killua, but rather that Killua doesn’t often notice other people, at least not in the same way. Plenty of classmates in the past would sit down next to Killua, hoping to strike up a conversation or get paired together for an assignment, but whether through blissful ignorance or uncaring intention, Killua would get up, find another pair of seats, and drop his bag into the one next to him, either to save it for Palm or Ikalgo or just to give himself a buffer of space between him and anyone else.

It isn’t like Killua is anti-social, per se, but more anti-going-out-of-his-way-to-be-social. He had his two close friends and plenty of classmates who passed as occasional acquaintances, but if Ikalgo and Palm were busy, he had enough coursework to keep him busy until they weren’t.

Killua’s stacked semesters and workload weren’t exactly enjoyable, nor was his lack of ample free time like his peers had, but it was a small, temporary price to pay to graduate a year early. He was always comfortable with a small circle of friends; in his current case, his circle was a triangle, but it worked.

As Killua approaches the guidance building, he pauses his music and shoves his headphones back into his pocket before opening the door and, once again, being met with a wash of cool air. A quick look at the building directory, a trip up the stairs to the second floor, and a walk down the hallway brings Killua to a door adorning a plaque reading:

AOTO WING

COUNSELOR, SHINGEN STEM COLLEGE

CHIMERA UNIVERSITY AT YORKNEW CITY

Knock knock knock

“Come on in!”

Killua opens the door and is met with what is perhaps the messiest desk he’s ever seen. Easily over one hundred pieces of paper sit in multiple disheveled piles while folders and notebooks are stacked on top of each other, some precariously close to falling off the edge of the desk. In stark contrast exists the rest of the office which, sans desk, could serve as coveted inspiration for an organized academic aesthetic. The bookshelves are lined with books, trinkets, and potted succulents; the walls are adorned with photographs and canvas art prints; the coffee setup in the corner has cafe-caliber equipment and syrup selections.

“Welcome! You must be…” Mr. Wing trails off, hurriedly shuffling through some of the papers on his desk. “Killua Zoldyck, yes?”

Killua stares ahead at him, eyebrows raised and eyes wide. “Yeah, that’s me. Nice to meet you, Mr. Wing.”

“Oh, call me Aoto; if I wanted to be addressed by my last name, I’d have gone into teaching, not counseling.”

Killua has to laugh at this being the second time today this topic has come up. “Sure, Aoto works for me.”

“Great! Please, take a seat, and please excuse the mess. The beginning of the school year is always hectic, especially with all the new students.”

Killua sits across from Aoto in a cushioned, genuine-leather seat and wonders in the back of his mind how much counselors actually get paid, because damn, this is one comfortable chair.

“So, what did you want to meet about? Do I have to resubmit the form to graduate early or something?”

A look of discomfort flashes over Aoto’s face. “Ah, no, that won’t be necessary. We have the form. The problem is, it shouldn’t have gotten approved in the first place.”

Killua’s forehead scrunches in confusion. “Why not? All of my major classes perfectly fit into my schedule for the rest of the school year.”

“It’s not your major courses that are the problem. It’s your physical education requirements.”

Killua can’t help the look of ridicule that washes over his face. “‘Physical education requirements’? Since when are those a thing?”

“I understand this is a frustrating conversation to have-”

“It’s fine, it’s not your fault. Just, I guess, let me know what classes have availability and I’ll make it work.”

Aoto takes a breath to steady himself. “That’s another part of the problem. All the fitness courses for the remainder of the school year are already full, and for safety reasons, physical education courses are prohibited from accepting extra students above the course capacity limit.”

Killua can feel the vein throbbing in his forehead, the sheer ridiculousness of this situation giving him a headache. “So, what, I can’t graduate early because I’m not allowed to run around the track until next year? You want me to pay an extra year of tuition just to throw a ball into a net once a week or whatever? Can’t I just do some independent study bullshit and swipe into the gym on campus or something?”

“Trust me, I don’t want to keep you here another year for such a small requirement. Why I was hoping we could meet today was so that we could discuss some options.” Aoto starts shuffling through some more papers on his desk, looking for something. “And as creative of an idea as it is, unfortunately, no, you cannot get credit for scanning into the gym. One, you could be giving your card to other students. And two, you could just be swiping in and then leaving without doing anything.

Killua looks at Aoto in disbelief. “Does this school actually give a shit about my physical fitness?”

“On paper, yes. In reality, candidly, it’s a new regional requirement as of the beginning of the previous school year. The only enrolled students who were exempt were those who had already completed two years of university at that point so as not to cause any scheduling issues as they tried to fit it into their final two years.”

“But I’m graduating early. That is exactly what’s happening to me.”

Aoto finds the folder he was searching for and opens it, looking up at Killua. “I know. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. According to the university, you’re not exempt since you’re choosing to graduate early, so it’s technically your responsibility to make sure all requirements are fulfilled. However…” Aoto trails off again as he flips through some papers in his folder. “I did some digging into the requirements, and there is one workaround.”

Killua stops digging his nails into his palm and looks back at Aoto. “Whatever it is, I’ll do it. Just tell me how to sign up.”

“Are you good at any sports?”

“What?”

Aoto chuckles at the surprise in Killua’s voice. “Students who are registered and practicing athletes - so actually attending practice and games - on one of the school’s athletic teams for at least two semesters have this requirement deemed as ‘met’.”

“Is that seriously the only option?”

“That is seriously the only viable option at this point unless you want to take the gamble on students dropping out of physical education courses over the next week and add yourself to the waitlist, but it isn’t promising.”

Killua pictures himself breaking his ankle in any actual sport and starts thinking about what other, more casual teams this school must have.

“Do we have, like… a bowling team?”

“Full, unfortunately.”

“Ping pong?”

“Only a club sport.”

“I don’t have to do football, do I?”

Aoto laughs loudly at that. “No, you don’t have to play football; their season is already well underway, and they aren’t taking walk-ons this year anyhow. How do you feel about baseball?”

Killua stares blankly at Aoto. “I don’t.”

“Pardon?”

“I don’t feel about baseball. I have no opinions on it.”

Aoto laughs again. “Well, that’s better than distaste.” He pulls out a paper - specifically, a post-it note - and hands it to Killua.

PITCHER NEEDED | EXPERIENCE PREFERRED

CONTACT BISKY KRUEGER FOR DETAILS

“Bisky Krueger is the head coach for YC’s baseball team. She posted these up around the faculty building and campus center before freshman orientation week started, but…” Aoto trails off, gesturing to the note in Killua’s hand. “I don’t think she quite thought ahead about how well they would stick out, or stick to the walls at all, for that matter.”

Killua snorts. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a post-it note calling card on the activities board.” He spins the note between his fingers, thinking. “One problem, though; this says ‘experience preferred’. I’ve never played, or watched, a game of baseball in my life.”

“Right; it says ‘preferred’, not ‘required’,” Aoto emphasizes. “Ahead of our meeting, I spoke with Coach Krueger and said I might have somebody interested if she could pass along the details for how to get you to try out. She’s desperate for somebody and said, and I quote, ‘I don’t care if they’ve never picked up a baseball in their lifetime. Tell them to show up and try, and we’ll take care of the rest.’”

“That sounds like a vote of confidence if I’ve ever heard one.”

Aoto smiles. “I know it’s not ideal, but honestly, it’s one of your only options at this point. I’d really recommend at least showing up, talking to Coach Krueger, and trying it out. You might end up liking it.”

Killua has to actively keep himself from rolling his eyes at that. Sighing, he says, “I guess it’s my only option at this point. I don’t know whether to hope I make it, or hope I tank so that I can do something else.”

“That’s a fair feeling. But for your sake and my sanity, selfishly, I hope you make it.”

At that, Killua laughs out loud. “Fair enough.” He stands and grabs his bag, slipping the note inside. “So do I need to reach out to the coach for details, or…?”

Aoto claps, visibly startling Killua. “Ah, sorry. Yes, tryouts are this Saturday morning at ten AM. I’ll let Coach Krueger know that you’ll be there. As of this morning, no one else was planning on attending, so, you may not have much competition.”

“Well, thank god for fewer people I can embarrass myself in front of. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Sounds good. Good luck, Killua.”

Killua heads out of the guidance building, mind racing entirely too quickly to remember to even put his headphones in for the walk back across campus to his next class. He isn’t sure which he’s more nervous about: Acing the tryouts or failing the tryouts. Not that a tryout could be necessarily aced or failed per se, but to any end, his inner monologue only serves to stress that Killua really isn’t a baseball person, and really doesn’t even know what this process will entail.

As he’s walking into his lecture hall, all he can think of is how lucky he is that he no longer has American Poetry homework so he can spend that time researching what the hell to expect on Saturday.

Chapter Text

Killua finds himself staring at the clock on the far wall as the time changes to 1:32. And instead of pulling himself off the couch to go get ready for a somewhat decent night of sleep before his tryouts in eight or so hours, he takes another hit as the bowl is passed to him.

Every Friday night, Palm and Killua head over to Ikalgo’s frat house for free beer, quality weed, and good company, which are really the defining markers of a quality fraternity as far as they’re concerned. There were never any real parties going on at the house; Eta Chi Eta was known for its outward inclusivity, numerous philanthropic efforts, and public social events, but internally, the house and its ongoings were quite exclusive. While some of those outside of it viewed this as snobby, the brothers and guests that made the shortlist to essentially be welcome in the house at any time knew that the exclusivity was a precaution to avoid any safety issues or university violations. The fewer and more vetted the people, the more likely it was for Eta Chi Eta to stay under the radar.

But, that didn’t mean that the people inside didn’t know how to have a good, albeit chill, time.

“Dude, you look absolutely blitzed,” Ikalgo says to Killua with half-lidded eyes, slumped back into the couch. “You good?”

Killua nods, muttering something about probably just being dehydrated. He had decided not to tell Ikalgo or Palm about the issue with his physical education requirements until after he found out if he made the baseball team or not. He really didn’t need them showing up at tryouts as he likely made a fool of himself. Or have Ikalgo bring it up in front of-

“Yo, man, you look like you’re about to pass out. Chug this.” The voice comes from the doorway as Zushi Izu, social chair for the house, walks into Ikalgo’s room and tosses Killua a water bottle he had brought in. Zushi and Ikalgo had gotten pretty close having rushed Eta Chi Eta the same year, so Zushi came to know Palm and Killua pretty well by hanging out with them most Friday nights. Killua liked him enough and definitely didn’t mind hanging out with him most weekends, but tonight his entrance just makes Killua’s stomach turn.

Zushi drops next to Ikalgo, draping an arm over the back of the couch and twisting open a water bottle of his own. “Hey, Palm, good to see you.”

Palm rolls her eyes and smiles. “Good to see you too, Zushi. How was week one of junior year? Everything you thought it would be and more?”

“Oh, for sure. Business classes are thrilling as usual.”

“If you need any notes, I had to take a bunch of business classes last year for industrial, so I could give them to you.”

“I think I might need you to tutor me instead. Explain the notes, maybe?” Zushi notoriously has no shame talking to women. Specifically, a woman.

More specifically, Palm.

“Sure, I’ll make time in my very busy schedule to explain the basic principles of the ‘just-in-time’ system to you.”

Zushi smirks. “Can’t wait.”

“You two are disgusting - yes, even you Palm, even though you’re joking - and I need to change the topic before I throw up,” Ikalgo interrupts, waving a hand at Palm’s arguing. “Zushi, how’s the season going so far? You guys don’t actually have games until next semester, right?”

Killua closes his eyes, hoping it will somehow block out the impending conversation.

“Yeah, not until February, so practices are pretty light this early on; they pick up pretty quickly after Thanksgiving break,” Zushi replies. “We’re in desperate need of a new regular starting pitcher though, because believe it or not, the star closer apparently isn’t supposed to be throwing whole games, even though he totally could if he trained for it.”

Palm, taking a swig of her beer, snorts. “Let me guess, the star closer is you?”

“Aw, Palm, that’s really sweet of you to think so. It indeed is me.”

“I just figured because I didn’t think you’d speak so highly of anyone else but yourself.”

It’s Ikalgo’s turn to snort, his inebriated and influenced state sending him into a laughing fit that makes Zushi shove a pillow in his face.

“Well, I’m trying to keep an open mind that someone could potentially be a decent matchup for me to serve as an actual closer to this season. Coach scheduled an impromptu practice tomorrow morning because apparently someone is trying out and wants to see if they can pitch and mesh with the team all in one go.”

Killua involuntarily gulps mid-sip of water, sending him into a coughing fit. Palm’s eyes bulge as she leans away from him, Ikalgo laughs even harder, and Zushi looks marginally concerned as if he’s worried that Killua might actually start choking for real.

Once the coughing has mostly subsided and the rest of the room is sitting in silence interrupted only by the sloshing of beer or the lighter flicking on, Killua pushes himself off of the couch. “I think I’m gonna head back to my place; I could really use my own bed right now.”

Ikalgo visibly straightens his posture, seemingly going sober. “Are you sure you’re alright to get home? You want me to walk with you?”

Killua laughs. “As much as I love you, I’m not sure you’d get back here on your own.”

At that, Palm and Zushi laugh out loud while Ikalgo feigns offense, holding the back of his hand to his forehead and falling back into the couch once more, no longer seeming sober. “You wound me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Killua says, walking out. “See you guys.”

Echoes of “bye” follow him down the hallway before he makes his way downstairs and out the door. Thankfully, his apartment is only a five-minute walk from the Eta Chi Eta house, and also thankfully, he’s far too high to get lost in his own anxious thoughts, as all of his available brainpower needs to go towards getting home and not falling asleep standing up in the street.

The university neighborhood of Yorknew City was often busy, partially thanks to it being immediately adjacent to the financial district of the city; if families and commuters weren’t bustling along the sidewalks and patronizing the local shops and restaurants, the university students were, and two AM on a Friday was no exception. Plenty of other fraternities and apartments were having big parties to celebrate the end of the first week of the semester, so droves of other students were also making their way back to their apartments and dorms or stopping on Main Street to satisfy their late-night munchies. Killua wasn’t fond of being out late at night by himself as it didn’t quite help his anxiety, but having other students within eyesight at almost any hour of the night comforted him.

Approaching his apartment, Killua holds his key between two of his fingers as he cuts through the small tenant-only parking lot behind his building and walks up the back stairs to his unit on the second floor. He unlocks the door as silently as he can and walks in, locking the door behind him and kicking off his shoes. He creeps up to the first bedroom on the right and puts his ear to the door. Hearing the sound machine, he smiles and goes to the adjacent wall to set the security system for the night.

The rest of the evening is short and hurried with Killua performing his usual nighttime routine: Brushing his teeth, washing his face, changing into pajamas, throwing his laundry into the hamper, and picking out his outfit for the next day so that he can salvage every last extra minute of sleep in the morning that he can. This evening, though, he stops in the middle of laying out his usual Saturday outfit of joggers and a tee as he remembers that this Saturday is not usual.

Tryouts. What should he wear to tryouts?

The high has worn off enough that if he had gotten into bed before remembering this, he would’ve drifted off into a quick and deep sleep. But now, he was at the perfect level of being under the influence where since he remembered, he was about to spiral.

Quickly, Killua reaches into his nightstand and takes a magnesium pill, hoping it will work fast enough to calm him down and tire him out. He hurriedly makes sure his alarm is set for the morning and grabs a pair of basketball shorts, a grey YC Chimera tee he had gotten for free during freshman orientation, and a pair of grey athletic shoes that look nearly brand new before shutting off the lights and metaphorically diving under the covers of his bed, his sanctuary.

The one place that is undeniably and unequivocally untouched by anything having to do with baseball.

…

Shit. Does he need a glove?

—

A restless night’s sleep, a brown sugar cold foam latte, and a quick trip to the sporting goods store later, Killua is cutting across campus at 9:52 to get to the baseball fields on time. He had debated skipping the glove altogether, figuring that the team probably had extra, but he also figured that the odds of them having an extra glove for a lefty were much slimmer. So, if he embarrasses himself beyond recovery, he’s returning the damn thing.

And never showing his face at Eta Chi Eta in front of Zushi again.

Killua crosses behind the last building separating himself from the view of the fields just up ahead and his stomach drops. The reality of the situation - both the fact that he’s likely about to make a fool of himself in front of dozens of people, and the fact that once he does so, he may very well have no other options for getting his gym requirements out of the way this year - dawns on him almost immediately and he thinks he’s going to be sick.

He takes a gulp of water and wills his body to calm down by reasoning with himself that he shouldn’t make the embarrassment worse for himself by throwing up in front of everybody, and that seems to do the trick.

As he walks through the gate leading onto the field, he’s greeted by an unfamiliar female voice. “Morning! Are you Killua Zoldyck?”

Killua’s head snaps up and meets the eyes of who he can only assume is Coach Krueger, a short, mid-size woman wearing a “CHIMERA ANTS BASEBALL” sweatshirt and holding a clipboard covered in once-bright, faded stickers.

 “Morning, um, yeah, that’s me. Nice to meet you, Coach Krueger.” Killua feels his hands sweating already.

“Call me Coach or Coach Bisky, kid,” she replies. “I’m glad you came today. Wing tells me you don’t have much baseball experience, is that correct?”

“No experience would be a more accurate assessment, actually.”

Bisky laughs. “That’s alright. Pitching itself is its own realm of knowledge, and that’s more important to you than understanding the entire game at this point. You ever toss a football around with anyone as a kid?”

Killua scrunches his eyebrows together. “Yeah, I guess a little bit with my dad and brother.”

“Which arm did you throw with?”

“...My left arm.”

Bisky smacks her clipboard with her free hand and Killua jumps. “That’s even better! We needed an extra pitcher to have at least three in our rotation to give ample time for them all to rest - typically, you only want to be pitching once, at most twice, a week, since it puts a lot of strain on your throwing arm - but they’re both righties. Having a lefty pitcher would add some serious depth to our bullpen that I know for a fact the other teams in our division don’t have.”

Eyebrows still furrowed, Killua asks, “Bullpen?”

Bisky stares blankly at him for a moment, then laughs. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. It’s not at you, I’ve just never known anyone who has such little knowledge of the game before.” Seeing Killua’s cheeks go red, she quickly adds on. “It’s fine, it really is. I explicitly told Wing that I was okay with someone with no experience because we can work on that separately. Anyways, a bullpen is essentially the pitchers on a team. You’ve got starting pitchers, those that start the game and typically throw for a majority of it, the position you’re trying out for today; you’ve got relief pitchers, who can often take over at any point in a game if a starting pitcher has thrown to their limit or earlier if their performance isn’t great that day; and you’ve got your closing pitchers, which are kind of like a subset of relief pitchers. Each team typically has one closing pitcher, their best reliever, who you usually rely on to get you out of the last inning when you have a close lead and want to end the game that way. Ours is Zushi Izu, who will be a really good resource to work with for working on specific pitch grips.”

Slowly nodding, Killua says, “Alright, that all makes sense. Besides the pitch grips part; I kind of figured a throw is a throw, but I guess not.”

Bisky chuckles. “There are pitch classes, and within them, nuances to each type of pitch - fastballs such as four-seamers, two-seamers, cutters, and splitters; breaking balls, which are like curveballs and sliders; and changeups. The ones I named are all the ones you’ll need to care about, but the grips on all of them are similar enough. I think once you see each of them thrown and what they look like, the slightly different grips will make sense given their spins and directions.”

Killua feels his own head spinning but sees how, in theory, the pitches would be straightforward. It’s all physics, essentially.

Just, physics matched with physical prowess and skill.

“I feel like I can see the steam coming out of your ears, so let’s just take it one step at a time and get you set up to run some basic drills with the team before getting into the pitching portion,” Bisky says, patting Killua on the shoulder.

“Don’t listen to Coach; she tells me she sees steam coming out of my ears almost every time we practice.” A new voice emerges and Killua looks just behind Bisky as a, presumably, player on the team swings his arm over both of her shoulders; casually, like someone might do if they saw a new friend out at a bar.

Bisky rolls her eyes with a smile on her face and replies as she removes the man’s arm from her shoulders. “I say that when anything about academics comes up; your natural skills don’t lie there, and that’s alright.” The man scoffs and she seems to decidedly ignore him. “Let me introduce you to our team captain and someone you’re likely going to get very close to, Gon Freecss.”

“Coach, you sound like you’re giving him a tarot card reading or something,” Gon laughs. He extends his hand and Killua accepts it lightly, inwardly wincing at the strong grip he wasn’t expecting to come from an obligatory introductory handshake. “She says that because I’m the catcher for the team, so I have to be pretty in sync with the pitcher during the game. Nice to meet you! And for the record, I’m not an idiot like she makes me sound, I’m just not really in tune with all the STEM stuff, you know?”

Killua nods again, feeling like it’s the only thing he can do at this point. “Sure, yeah I know. I mean, I don’t really know, because I’m an industrial engineering major, but I know not everyone is.”

Gon groans, too dramatically for the topic at hand, and runs a hand through his hair. Killua notices and feels slightly less intimidated because he sees that he is, in fact, a touch taller than Gon, and it’s just Gon’s voluminous, jet-black hair that suggests otherwise. Not that he feels the need to be taller than anyone for any real reason, but at this point, he’s grasping at any small detail he can to calm his nerves.

“I was hoping you’d say you’re, like, an arts major or something. Almost everyone on this team is some kind of Shingen STEM student, and half the time I have no idea what they’re talking about.”

“Zushi’s a business major though, right?” Killua immediately regrets opening his mouth and doing anything beyond nodding when he sees Gon’s eyes light up.

“You know Zushi?!” Gon exclaims, and all Killua can do is, again, nod. Gon calls over to Zushi who comes jogging over.

“Killua, holy shit, you’re the new guy trying out? Why didn’t you say anything on Friday?” Zushi claps Killua on the shoulder and Killua lets out an awkward laugh.

“Honestly, I didn’t want to tell anyone until after I found out if I made the team or not. You know Palm or Ikalgo would have shown up this morning,” Killua replies.

“All the more reason to have told them! I would’ve worn my uniform pants.”

Killua rolls his eyes and laughs. “Yeah, all the better that I didn’t tell them, then.”

Gon interjects, seemingly feeling left out. “How do you both know each other? Also, sorry, I totally did not remember to ask for your name, and now I don’t remember what Zushi said. Something like Kahlua? Like the alcohol? I’m not butchering it, am I?”

Zushi snickers and Gon gives him an elbow in the side. Killua hopes the ground opens and swallows him whole.

“It’s Killua, like, um… I actually don’t know what to compare it to. It’s just Killua.”

“Killua, Killua…” Gon tests his pronunciation and Killua feels his face getting hot. “I think I’ve got it. So, how do you know Zushi?”

“My best friend, Ikalgo, is in Eta Chi Eta, so we hang out there a good amount. Sometimes Zushi joins.”

“‘Sometimes’ my ass, I’m with you guys almost every weekend,” Zushi corrects.

Coach Bisky, who early on must have tired of the conversation and left, calls over to the three men. “Alright boys, quit canoodling, let’s get some basic drills in and start.”

“Sorry, Gon’s flirting,” Zushi shouts back, the rest of the team laughing from the field. Gon shoots Zushi an incredulous look which Zushi ignores, instead going to his bag to get his things ready.

“Sorry about him; Zushi’s my best friend, but he’s kind of an idiot,” Gon says, his hand rubbing at the nape of his neck.

“Well, I guess I can see why he and Ikalgo are so close then.”

Gon laughs out loud and Killua releases some of the pressure with which he’s digging his nails into his palm.

“You can do the drills with me; I’ll walk you through them and make sure you’re following.”

Killua smiles gently, offering a soft, “Thanks,” before dropping his bag next to the fence, taking out his glove, and jogging over to meet the rest of the team with Gon.

—

After getting over the fear of the ball hitting him square in the face, the drills turn out to be pretty simple, especially with Gon taking the time to walk him through them more closely. Simple throwing and catching back and forth, some laps around the bases to warm up, and general fielding of the ball got Killua a bit more comfortable with the motions and with the team. His brand-new glove, however, would certainly be nonrefundable in its current state.

“Alright team, nice work,” Coach Bisky starts. “Infield and outfield, go out and run your usual drills for an hour and you’re good to leave. Bullpen, go find Coach Nickes inside the sports center by the batting cages and rotate through for about an hour, and you’re good to leave too. Killua, Gon, and Zushi, you three are coming to the field with me.”

Killua swallows down the lump in his throat, knowing what’s next.

Gon, seeing the obvious discomfort on Killua’s face, gives him a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder. “Hey, you got this! Your throws were pretty accurate to me, so just keep that up and focus on getting some more speed behind them. Zushi will show you the different grips and you’ll be pitching to me. I just have to throw on my gear.” Gon jogs over to his bag and, as he pulls out his catching gear, Killua understands why Gon’s bag is so much larger than everyone else’s; that shit is massive. 

Killua runs a shaky hand through his hair, takes a breath, and meets Zushi and Coach Bisky on the mound.

“Alright, Killua,” Bisky starts. “This is the more formal part of your tryout, but if it helps, you did really well in the drills and seemed to mesh with the team well so far. I’ll leave it up to Zushi to guide you through some pitching styles, and don’t worry, I expect the first bunch to be bad. You’re learning. Each pitch doesn’t have to be perfect; you just need to start halfway decently and we can go from there. Sound good?”

Killua nods, tossing the ball back and forth between his hand and his glove. “Got it, sounds good. Thanks, Coach.”

Bisky smiles and walks to the sidelines as Gon gets set up at home plate. He flashes Killua a smile and a thumbs-up before pulling his mask down.

“My man, let’s get it started,” Zushi says, noticeably more excited than Killua is feeling. “You’re gonna do great. We’ll start with a few fastballs since those are the most straightforward. They’re all mostly similar, but the grip really focuses on where you’re holding the ball. When you were throwing earlier, you were probably grabbing the ball with four fingers over and your thumb under.” He rolls the ball between his fingers and mirrors the positioning. “That’s a normal throw, but for a pitch, that’s way too many points of contact and too much tension to be able to release the ball and get it to a reasonable speed. While you’re throwing, you want to not only focus on the grip, but on getting more power behind the release of the ball which has a lot to do with your stance. Let’s do a four-seamer first and I’ll show you what I mean.” Zushi demonstrates the grip on the ball as well as his own windup before releasing an absolute rocket of a pitch to Gon.

“Holy shit,” Killua breathes out. “I don’t know if I can get it that fast.”

“You for sure can. Watch me throw a few more; I’ll even change my windup each time just to show you some examples of what you can do. Feel them out and try what you think will be most comfortable for you and give you the most amount of power.” Zushi throws a few more to Gon, each time changing up his positioning slightly; one pitch his arm seems to linger in front of his face before he steps forward, and the next his hands are by his belt before bringing them up to his ear as he raises his leg in one fell swoop before throwing. Each throw is a bit different, and each throw seems to click a little bit more with Killua as he tries to grasp the physics around it all.

“Do you want to try some? Let me show you the grip for the slider, too; those two are versatile enough for you to start out with in the fastball category,” Zushi says, and Killua nods.

“Yup, I think I’m starting to get it. In theory. Let’s do it.”

The first few pitches are slow and sloppy, but Bisky, Zushi, and Gon reassure Killua after each one that this is expected, it’s his first time. Killua wills himself to believe them and keep going; soon enough, he’s picking up speed, finding some windup patterns that work for him, and getting enough balls in the strike zone to serve as a meaningful improvement. Zushi gets him through a few variations of pitches, and Killua manages to get the hang of the slightly-different grips pretty quickly.

“Great, Killua! Really, you’re doing a great job, especially for being brand new,” Coach Bisky shouts from the sidelines. “I’m gonna give you a bit of a challenge to really put you to the test. Zushi, set him up for some curveballs. Killua, this will be your last stage of the tryouts. You’ll have as many pitches as you want to get comfortable, then I’ll watch a few from your perspective, then I’ll try to hit some.”

Killua’s eyes go wide. “Like, I’ll be throwing to you at the plate?”

Bisky smiles. “Technically, you’ll be throwing to Gon. I’ll be trying to get in the way of that.”

“Coach, I don’t want to hit you in the face.”

“Then don’t hit me in the face,” she replies, clearly not deterred. “I’ll be wearing a helmet, and I’ll only step in once it seems like you’re comfortable. Don’t worry.”

Killua is willing himself to breathe deeply and slowly as Zushi shows him the grip for the curveball, rubbing a hole into the dirt with the ball of his sneaker.

“So the grip isn’t too different, but the real difference here is the angle at which you’re throwing it and the flick of the wrist,” Zushi explains. “You don’t really want to change your entire windup so as not to let the hitter onto what you’re throwing, so you really need to focus on the rotation of the wrist, when you let go of the ball, and the follow through. Make sense?”

Mimicking Zushi’s movements with the ball in his own hand, he nods. “Yeah, I think so. I’ll need the warmup pitches to practice.”

“For sure, man. I’ll be right over here to see how you’re looking.” Zushi steps over to the ride of the mound, giving Killua more space.

“You got it, Killua!” Gon shouts from behind home plate, throwing him another thumbs up with his non-gloved hand. Killua smiles and takes another deep breath.

The first few pitches are clearly due to Killua figuring out the different technique with most bouncing in the dirt. Gon has to yell to Killua to stop apologizing every time a pitch gets away from him. 

“You’re letting go a little too late,” Zushi comments. “Your grip is really good, but I think it’s making you hold on too long. Think about a curveball leaving your hand at the same point where you start letting go of a fastball. Does that make sense?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s a really good suggestion,” Killua says. “That helps a lot. Thanks.” Zushi nods and Killua gets set back up. “Let go early, let go early,” he mumbles to himself. He winds up, throws, and produces a perfect curveball dropping just at the edge of the strike zone into Gon’s glove.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Zushi shouts, pounding his fist in the air just in front of his chest. “That was literally a perfect pitch.”

“I agree, that was incredible,” Bisky adds. “Let's see you do that a few more times.”

And do it a few more times, Killua does. Besides one pitch in the middle bouncing in front of home plate again, Killua throws perfect pitches every time; curveballs down the middle of the plate, curveballs on the inside corner, curveballs on the outside corner. Coach Bisky changes her position and, instead of going behind Killua, stands behind Gon during the series of throws to see it from an umpire’s perspective, confirming that they’d all catch the strike zone to most umpires.

“Alright, kid, final test,” Coach Bisky says, putting her helmet on and walking up to the plate with her bat. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Killua swallows heavily and Zushi whispers, “You’ve got this. Keep doing what you were doing.” He breathes in deeply, winds up, and throws.

Swing and a miss.

“Steeeeee-rike one!” Gon exclaims as he throws the ball back to Killua, prompting Coach Bisky to shush him. “That curve is insane, Coach.”

“I know,” Coach Bisky replies quietly. “I’ve never seen that kind of consistent control over it from any collegiate pitcher before, let alone a newbie.”

Behind the plate, Gon catches Killua’s attention by wiggling his fingers and proceeds to point his finger and nod his head toward the outside corner of the plate. Killua nods.

“You’re giving him calls already? Let the kid learn one thing at a time,” Bisky says, and all three of the boys laugh.

Another windup, another throw, and another strike; this time, without a swing.

“Steeeeee-rike two!” Gon shouts.

“There’s no way that was over the plate,” Coach Bisky complains.

“I swear, Coach, perfectly over the edge.”

“Yeah, he’s not messing with you,” Zushi shouts. “It looked fair to me; it would at least be a close call, if not a swinger.”

“Hm,” Bisky muses, getting back into position.

Zushi says softly to Killua, “Please strike her out on three. That would be the funniest shit I’ve ever seen. Aim for the top quarter of the inside corner - release just a little bit earlier.”

Killua nods again in response and winds up.

He throws, releasing just a little bit earlier.

“And with a swing and a miss, Killua of the Chimera Ants throws a shutout inning to win the game!” Gon yells, visibly very excited about the series of events that just took place. He jogs over to Killua on the mound who’s currently trapped in a bear hug by Zushi, so he decides to join in and sandwich Killua in between them.

Killua is acutely aware of his face being smushed into Gon’s chest; he tells himself that his heart is beating far too quickly due to the high of crushing his tryouts, not because of his proximity to this annoyingly good-looking stranger.

“Alright, alright, let the boy breathe,” Coach Bisky interrupts, prompting Gon and Zushi to let go. Killua’s face is bright red from a mixture of the heat, the excitement, and certainly not the anxiety. “Killua, I’ve gotta say, in all my years of coaching, I have never seen consistent curveballs like that. Maybe a few here and there during a game by an experienced pitcher, but once you got the hang of it and when your form was good, you just didn’t miss. And being able to spin it to both sides of the plate is a rarity.”

Killua runs a sweaty hand through his equally sweaty hair just to do something with his fingers. “Thanks, Coach. It was helpful to think of the practicality of the movement of it all, honestly, and Zushi gave me some great tips.” Zushi shrugs, smiling, suddenly bashful for the first time in his life.

“That’s why he’s one of our best,” Coach Bisky agrees. “I think I’ve seen enough to make a decision.”

She pauses for just a beat too long, looking at Gon as they nod to each other, and Killua’s earlier hope freezes like a weight on his chest.

“Killua, how would you like to be the newest starting pitcher for the Ants?”

Killua laughs out of sheer disbelief, his smile wide, and Gon fist-bumps Zushi excitedly.

“Congrats, man!” Zushi exclaims, with Gon echoing the same sentiments.

“I would love to, seriously,” Killua replies, his eyes wide and bright. “Do I, uh, have to hit the ball at all, though? Because you do not want to see me try that.”

Coach Bisky laughs alongside Gon and Zushi before replying, “No, no, we always have a designated hitter in the lineup - someone to take the offensive place of the pitcher. This is common; we don’t want pitchers getting hit or straining themselves, for one, and two, pitchers typically don’t have the same kind of power behind their hits, so it’s not just you.”

Killua nods, his smile still plastered on his face. “Okay, cool, then yeah, I’m in. Or, I’m on. The team, I mean.” He catches a glimpse at Gon who’s wearing a dorky, wide smile of his own and happens to meet Killua’s eyes. Killua looks away quickly and directs his gaze to his glove. “Is there any way I can, like, study the game or something? Like optional practices, tutoring, or any books you recommend, or-”

“I can teach you!” All eyes redirect to Gon whose hand is halfway in the air. “My workload is pretty light and I’d be happy to catch you up to speed and do extra practices, just us.” Killua sees Gon glance at Zushi, whose eyebrows are approaching his hairline, and Gon quickly adds, “I mean, if you want to, I just figured it would be easier and less pressure if it was just me instead of the entire team.”

“Are you sure?” Killua asks hesitantly, back to tossing the ball into his glove repeatedly. “I don’t want to take up too much of your time, but that really would be helpful.”

“I’m positive,” Gon replies adamantly. “I’d be happy to, seriously.”

Killua smiles, feeling the heat return to his face, and decides that he should’ve worn a hat today because of course he’s going to get a sunburn after this. “Thanks, really. I appreciate that a lot.”

Gon returns the smile, a faint color spreading across his cheeks as well. Killua thinks the sun must be shining brighter than usual today for it to be visibly affecting someone with Gon’s darker complexion.

“Alright, Gon, that’s great of you - thank you. Killua, last order of business for the day before I email you all the logistics: Do you have a preferred jersey number? You can get back to me if you need to think on it-”

“Is ninety-nine available?” Killua replies immediately.

Bisky nods. “That was fast. Is that your favorite number or something?”

Killua smiles. “Has been for as long as I can remember.”

“Well, you’re in luck, because ninety-nine is available, and it’s yours. Congratulations, Mr. Zoldyck. You were quite impressive today and we’re excited to have you on the team.”

“Thanks a lot, Coach,” Killua replies. Coach Bisky says her goodbyes to the boys before she walks off and Zushi congratulates Killua again before doing the same. Gon and Killua walk together to their bags at the fence.

“Can you put your number in my phone?” Killua asks. He looks up at Gon, whose eyes are blown wide and whose sunburn seems to have deepened. “What, do you only talk over Snapchat or something? I figure this is the easiest way for us to talk, but if you’d rather stick to school email, that’s your call.”

Gon shakes his head vigorously as he reaches into his bag to dig for his phone. “No, uh, that makes sense, for sure. Yes. Let’s swap phones.” He tosses Killua his phone and Killua catches it in his glove. Gon’s eyebrows furrow and he chuckles.

“Sorry, still in baseball mode I guess,” Killua says meekly. He hands Gon his unlocked phone and takes Gon’s out of his glove, already open to contacts. He adds an emoji of a baseball after his first name. 

Unrelatedly, Killua’s emoji keyboard has gone untouched for the entirety of his life of having a smartphone, save for the accidental clicking into it. 

Killua looks up after saving his number to see Gon taking a selfie. “Are you giving yourself a contact photo? You know you can share a profile with your default photo nowadays, right?”

“Yeah, but then this photo wouldn’t be just yours!” Gon says. “My default photo is boring. Here.” He tosses Killua back his phone as Killua hands Gon his. “Text me later and we can schedule our first ‘tutoring session’, as you called it.”

Killua smiles, looking away. “Hey, don’t laugh at me, I’m not a sports person.”

“No, it was-” Gon cuts himself off abruptly and hesitates for a beat. “Um, it was funny. And you’ll be a ‘sports person’ soon enough. You were really awesome out there today.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it. Seriously,” Killua says, and Gon nods with a smile on his face. “I’ll text you later?”

Gon flashes a smile and replies, “I’ll be waiting for it! See you, Killua.” He grabs his bag and heads towards the sports center, presumably for the showers. Killua grabs his own bag and shoves his glove into it as he starts to walk back toward his apartment. He unlocks his phone to see Gon’s contact still open on the screen.

A picture of Gon throwing up a peace sign with a huge grin on his face sits as the contact photo immediately next to his contact name: “Gon ⚾ Freecss”.

Killua smiles.

Chapter Text

As soon as Killua opens the front door and the security system doesn’t go off, he knows he’s fucked.

“Morning, brother!” Killua’s startled by her voice, as he was at least expecting her to be in her room to give him a minute or so to come up with a story.

“Hey, Alluka. You sleep well?”

“Slept great, thanks,” Alluka replies. She’s situated on the couch and covered by a blanket with a mug of tea in one hand and a book in the other. “You were up early today. Where’d you head off to?”

Killua now figures that there’s no point in lying; she’d find it out soon enough anyway, and if anyone was going to be the first person to know, it should probably be her.

“So, uh, long story short, I found out that I needed physical education requirements to be able to graduate at the end of this year, but there were no classes with spots, so I had to try out for the baseball team, and I, uh, made it.”

Alluka’s eyes widen dramatically, a humorous smile on her face. “You tried out for a sport? Actually, you tried out for a sport and you made the team ? What do they have you doing, acting as bat boy?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s hilarious,” Killua says, rolling his eyes. “Honestly though, I kind of can’t believe it either. The team needed a pitcher, and apparently, I did pretty well, so you’re looking at number ninety-nine of the Chimera Ants.”

Alluka smiles wide at this, her eyes soft and bright. “That’s sweet, brother. And so exciting! I’m proud of you! When’s the first game?”

“Not until the new year I think,” Killua says, slumping down onto the bean bag next to the couch. “Just a bunch of practices until then.”

“Have you ever even watched baseball?”

“No, but a friend of Zushi’s offered to tutor - uh, teach - me.”

Alluka looks over the top of her mug as she takes a sip, her eyebrows raising. “Zushi’s on the baseball team?”

Killua sighs, playfully narrowing his eyes at his sister. “Now you’re interested?”

“I was already interested, you dolt, I just didn’t know he was on the team.”

“You just want to know if you can see him in baseball pants.”

“Brother, besides you, I want to know if I can see everyone in baseball pants.”

Killua laughs out loud at this and tosses a pillow at Alluka, who has to drop her book to swat it away in time. “You’re gross.”

“And you made me lose my page,” Alluka retorts, tossing the pillow back. “Baseball pants aside, I really am happy for you. I mean, it’s not ideal to need to be on a team I guess, but at least you’re able to get the requirements out of the way. They wouldn’t just let you, like, swipe into the gym a few times a month or something?”

“That’s what I said!” Killua exclaims, and the two erupt into another fit of laughs. As it subsides, Killua adds, “I just would really love for Illumi not to find out. The last thing I need is for him or Mom and Dad to come to the games.”

Alluka pouts, empathetic towards his situation. “Understandable, but improbable. The baseball roster and schedule are way more public than my relationship ever was, but he still found out about that.”

“I don’t think you can really call what happened to you last year a relationship.”

“A toxic relationship is still a relationship, dummy.”

“Touché,” Killua replies. “You haven’t heard from her lately, have you?”

Alluka grimaces. “Hell no. The last I heard from her was in May when she left me a nasty voicemail trying to make me feel bad about not going to her graduation. In what world would I have gone to that?”

Killua shrugs. “Bitches be crazy.”

A disgusted look spreads across Alluka’s face. “Please don’t talk like that. Did you get hit by a ball in the head this morning?”

“Mean,” Killua says with a laugh. “Surprisingly I didn’t hit anyone, nor did I get hit. I practiced with Gon, like, the entire time, and he knew I was totally clueless.”

“Gon is Zushi’s friend who’s teaching you about baseball?”

Killua nods. “Oh, yeah. He’s the catcher and captain of the team, too, so I’m sure I’ll actually learn a lot.” Alluka just stares back at Killua, smiling, eyebrows raised, for far too long. “Are you zoned out or something? Hello?” He waves his hand in front of her face and she barely flinches.

“Is he cute?”

Killua throws his head back. “Alluka! Maybe we can take some time being single during college, huh?”

“I don’t mean for me, you idiot,” Alluka corrects. “Do you think he’s cute?”

“I…” Killua pauses, his shoulders rising defensively and approaching his ears. “I don’t know, I didn’t really think about it.”

“Are you thinking about it now?”

“Well, you did ask me, so I’m not just ignoring your question.”

“And what’s the verdict?”

Killua sighs loudly, falling back onto the rest of the bean bag. “Sure, yeah, he’s as good-looking as they come, I guess.”

“Great! I can’t wait to see your chemistry together.”

Killua goes red, shooting up from his back. “Alluka!”

Alluka smiles innocently. “I meant on the field. You said you’re gonna be a pitcher, right? You two probably need to be in sync for most of the game.”

“Sure,” Killua agrees without expression, standing up. “I’m gonna take a shower while you continue to make up fantasies in your head. Bakery after?”

“Duh.”

—

After a shower and a much-needed chocolate croissant, Killua walks back to his apartment while Alluka splits off to go to the campus activities fair (at the suggestion of Killua, who thinks she should find some things to keep her busy and expand her circle of friends given the fallout of last year). He dives into his homework for the afternoon so that he can save Sundays for his usual plans: Bagels with Alluka, mid-day shift at the campus bookstore, and dinner at the diner with Ikalgo and Palm.

About three hours into his work, Killua feels the vibration of his phone sitting on his desk. Anyone who knows Killua knows that calls without warning will likely be ignored, so he figures it must be spam; or his parents, which might as well be spam. He picks up his phone to check the Caller ID and his eyes widen.

Incoming Call from: Gon ⚾ Freecss

Killua clears his throat and runs his fingers through his hair, then wonders to himself why he’s fixing his hair for a phone call, before picking up.

“Hello?”

“Hey! This is Gon, is, uh, Killua there?”

Killua snorts. “I gave you my cell number, who else do you think is answering my phone?”

“Sorry,” Gon laughs. “You answered like I was a telemarketer or something, so I didn’t know it was you with your tone.”

“I do not have a tone.”

“Sorry to be the one to tell you, but you do,” Gon says, and Killua shakes his head as if Gon can see him. “Also, sorry for calling unannounced, I hope you’re not in the middle of something. I’m just walking back from the gym and I’ll probably walk into oncoming traffic if I try to text at the same time.”

Killua gets up from his chair only to flop onto his bed, vaguely thinking to himself that he probably looks like a 90s movie middle school girl talking to their crush on their parents’ landline for the first time. “It’s fine- wait, the gym? Did you go after practice and workout for, what, four fucking hours?”

Gon laughs again. “Oh god, no. I spent, like, two hours on the basketball courts with some other guys from the team just playing around, and then I worked out.”

“...So you spent four fucking hours working out.”

“I mean, yeah, I guess, but that’s if you’re considering shooting hoops and fucking around on the court working out.”

Killua can taste blood on his tongue and, upon further investigation, realizes he’s bitten into his bottom lip. “I do.”

“Well, then, I guess I did,” Gon replies. Killua can hear the sounds of cars driving by in the background. “I hope you don’t think I’m some gym bro or something. Those guys are nuts.”

“I mean, I don’t know much about you considering I met you this morning, but so far I know that you’re captain of the baseball team and that you decided to go to the gym for four hours on top of having practice. So, so far, all I’ve got on you is that you’re a gym bro.”

Killua can practically see Gon throw his head back when he groans loudly through the phone but decidedly ignores the visual. “Okay, well, I can’t have you thinking that, or I’m gonna have a meltdown,” Gon says. “Actually, that kind of leads pretty well into why I was calling. I wanted to ask if you’re free on Monday around one. I get out of classes at twelve-thirty for the day, and I thought maybe after lunch you’d want to have our first, uh, what did you call it? Tutoring session? We have practice at six, so I figured that would be enough time to go over some stuff, break for dinner, and get to practice on time. Oh, and convince you that I’m not as douchy as our conversations so far have made me sound.”

It’s Killua’s turn to laugh. “I mean, that sounds like a pretty large feat.”

“What, the teaching? Or, me showing you I’m actually super fucking cool?”

“Yes.”

Gon, again, laughs out loud. “Okay, well, I’ll succeed on both fronts. So, you free?”

Killua puts Gon on speakerphone to look at his calendar, not quite having memorized his schedule for this semester yet. “Yeah, one sec, I’m just looking at my classes…” He trails off as he swipes over to Monday and sees that his last class of the day also ends at twelve-thirty. “I’m actually done at the same time as you. I usually grab lunch with my friends, so can we plan for some time between one and one-thirty?”

This time, Killua can hear the smile on Gon’s face when he responds, “Awesome! Zushi and I usually grab lunch then, too, actually, so that works.”

“Do I need to, like, prep anything?”

“Honestly, since you’re self-proclaimed not really a sports guy, I’d say bring something to keep you awake, like a coffee or something. It’s gonna be a lot of rules and logistics about the game itself, and I can imagine how you might find that boring. Well, actually, I can’t really imagine it, because baseball is the most interesting sport ever, but I’m not sure you’d agree.”

Killua rolls over onto his back and stares up at the ceiling, phone on the bed next to his head. “I’m not sure most people would agree with you. I don’t even watch any sports, but I’m pretty sure, like, football and hockey are notably more interesting.”

“More exciting doesn’t mean more interesting! By the end of your one and only season, you’ll love baseball, I promise. Thanks to me, of course, but also the game itself.”

“I’ll keep that promise in mind,” Killua laughs, grabbing his phone and sitting up. “So, I’ll see you Monday then?”

“See you Monday, Killua,” Gon replies. “Have a good weekend! And congrats again!”

Killua smiles. “Thanks, Gon. Talk to you later.” He hangs up the phone and, upon seeing Gon’s contact photo flash on his phone as the call screen disappears, promptly lets himself fall back onto his bed again.

—

The rest of the weekend passes in a blur, a flurry of homework, grabbing food, and getting texts from Gon about crazy baseball highlights from major league games that weekend accompanied by texts reading sentiments such as: “look how CLEAN this catch was, and you’re telling me this isn’t pure beauty to watch???”. It all passes by so quickly that now, as Killua sits at lunch with Palm and Ikalgo on Monday afternoon shortly before his tutoring session with Gon (which Gon has decided he won’t call it anything but), he realizes he forgot to tell them at dinner last night about the whole baseball situation.

Luckily for him, as he’s thinking he can squeak by a few more days without having to bring it up, their table for three gets two new visitors.

“What’s up, Zushi?” Ikalgo says as Zushi walks past their table which, had it not been for this greeting, probably would have gone unnoticed.

“Yo, Ikalgo,” Zushi replies, fist-bumping him. “What’s up Killua, Palm?”

Killua replies with a quick, “Sup,” as he’s turned toward the wall trying to unplug his phone charger, while Palm returns the greeting.

“Hey, Zushi. Who’s your friend?” Palm asks.

Killua turns around and looks up, only to lock eyes with Gon.

“Hey, Killua!” Gon says, smiling wide. Killua bounces one of his legs up and down in hopes of redirecting some blood flow away from his face. “I was just gonna go set up for us in the conference room right over here; Zushi’s gonna help me connect my laptop to the projector in there.”

Killua nods in halftime with his leg, feeling Palm and Ikalgo’s eyes on him. “Um, Palm, Ikalgo, this is Gon. Gon, these are my friends Palm and Ikalgo.”

“Thanks for the actual introduction, since Zushi is too busy stealing Ikalgo’s fries to respond,” Palm says, prompting Ikalgo to notice the thievery and smack Zushi’s hand away. She sticks out her hand to Gon. “Nice to meet you! How do you guys know each other?”

Gon shakes Palm’s hand, and in sync, Killua replies, “He’s tutoring me,” as Gon answers, “At his baseball tryouts on Saturday!”

Killua’s eyes widen and he looks over at Palm, who he’s never seen looking so surprised.

“Sorry, his baseball tryouts?” Palm asks. “Killua, why did you try out for the baseball team? More importantly, why wasn’t I invited to come watch?”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you,” Killua replies, resting his head in his hand. “Remember that meeting I had with Wing last week? It was actually for him to tell me I didn’t fulfill the phys-ed requirements and wasn’t gonna graduate this year unless I made them up somehow. All the classes for the year are already filled up, but the baseball team needed a new pitcher, so…”

“Oh, dude, that’s actually perfect for you,” Ikalgo says, mouth full of fries. “At least you don’t have to hit. No offense, but I feel like you’d suck at the plate. And at running around the bases.”

Killua scoffs. “Thanks for that vote of confidence, man.”

“He was really good for having never played before,” Gon chimes in. Killua looks up at him, head still in his hand, and gives him a half-smile. “I mean, he threw a shit-ton of balls in the dirt at first, but next thing you know, he’s serving up a pretty sweet curveball.”

“Okay, as much as I love being bullied by literally everybody at this table, I’m going to leave,” Killua says, standing up and grabbing his things.

“I just said you had a sick curveball!” Gon complains.

Zushi adds on to defend himself. “I also didn’t say anything.”

“Bystander syndrome, you’re even worse,” Killua says, poking Zushi in the chest. “See you guys later.”

“Nice to meet you both!” Gon says, rushing after Killua who’s already walking into the conference room. He shuts the door and drops his bag into an open chair. “Oh shit, Zushi was supposed to help me set everything up.”

“I got it,” Killua says, already playing with the control screen. “Let me see your laptop.” Gon pulls it out of his backpack and hands it to Killua, who plugs it in and sets up the connections.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make fun of you,” Gon says quietly. “I really thought you did well.”

“Dude, it’s totally fine,” Killua laughs, shaking his head. “I was just kidding. I was pretty shit, anyways.”

Gon chuckles, eyes wrinkled with mirth and dimples presenting themselves in his cheeks. “I mean, yeah, you were at the start, but anyone would be if they’d never played before.”

Killua sets up the final input settings and Gon’s screen is mirrored on the projector screen. “At least I have an excuse. Here, you’re all set.”

“Thanks!” Gon says, sliding over in his chair and pulling up a spreadsheet with many, many color-coded tabs. “So, the plan is to start with talking over the basics, watching game snippets, and kind of reviewing things textbook-style. Not really exciting, except for the watching gameplay part. Then we can get into more hands-on practice.”

“What?”

“... What, what?” Gon looks at Killua humorously, eyes scrunched and a small smirk forming.

“What is there to, um,” Killua finds himself stuttering and not quite sure what he’s even trying to say. “Like, what is there to, uh, practice hands-on?”

Gon snorts. “The plays? What, you think just watching the game and seeing how, in theory, a play would go down is sufficient?”

“I was kind of hoping it would be.”

“Yeah, unfortunately, that’s where the whole ‘playing the game’ part comes in,” Gon replies, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms behind his head. “Most of that will happen right after practice once we get through the initial intro stuff. I also got the okay from Coach to practice with you mostly one-on-one during practice for the first few weeks; I figured that would be less pressure for you and easier to learn some of this stuff.”

Killua’s staring up at the screen while Gon talks to him, his eyes raking over the spreadsheet. “You really put a lot of thought into this. You want me to be good that badly?” He looks back down at Gon, whose cheeks are flushed.

“Um, what?”

“You really seem dedicated to wanting me to be good at baseball, or at least, like, understand it,” Killua replies, tone laced with confusion. “I mean, who makes a fucking color-coded spreadsheet for coaching?”

Gon repositions himself in his chair and lets out a breathless laugh. “Oh, yeah, right. I mean, I’m a sucker for a good spreadsheet. And make it color-coded? I mean, lay me down and take my last name, at that point.”

Killua bites his nail and returns to bouncing his leg and nodding his head. “I’ve never seen anyone so, uh, down for that kind of organization.”

“I think it’s just the marketer in me,” Gon says. “The major’s more focused on analytics marketing, but I love the design part of marketing too, so I take what I can get in terms of being able to incorporate that into the analytics stuff.”

“Ah, like color-coding your ‘for-fun’ spreadsheets for tutoring someone in baseball.”

“Exactly. Arguably the best use of my time and skills so far, to be honest.”

The two of them laugh briefly before Killua speaks up again. “I didn’t know you were a marketing major. But, I guess I didn’t know because I didn’t ask. Actually, I don’t even know what year you are. Are you, like, a prodigy freshman or something? I’m guessing no because I don’t think freshmen usually look like you. I mean that as a good thing.” Killua can’t get himself to shut up, so instead, he continues releasing his stream-of-consciousness thoughts that really aren’t often intended to be said aloud. “Like, you’re, uh, bigger than any freshmen I’ve ever seen. Not that I’m calling you fat, I meant, like, built, I guess. Or tall. But I’m taller than you, so I guess that doesn’t really matter. And freshmen look older, like, every year anyways, so really, who knows? You know?”

Gon’s staring ahead at Killua, eyebrows raised and mouth an open, amused smile. “You good?”

Killua shakes his head. “No. Maybe it’s, uh, all the anxiety about actually having to play and have people, like, relying on me during the game.” Only half the reason.

Maybe less than half.

“Well, games aren’t for another five months at least, so I promise you that that’s enough time to get you up to speed,” Gon reassures him, and Killua nods. “As for me, Jesus Christ, I’m kind of offended you think I’m a freshman.”

Killua puts his hands up, showing innocence. “Hey, man, you never know.”

Gon laughs and it’s his turn to shake his head. “Well, I’m not, I’m actually a senior. I’m at YC on a baseball scholarship - thank god, because I wouldn’t have been able to afford it otherwise - and I declared marketing as my major as a sophomore. I started out undecided because I figured I’d just go into business or something, but I’m not really book-smart.”

“Didn’t you just say you were in analytical marketing, though? That’s not easy stuff.”

“I mean, yeah, it’s not, like, ‘rocks for jocks’ easy, but it’s not engineering, either. The data tells an objective story, but I get to take that and represent it subjectively the way I want to and be more creative with it. I could do the analytics stuff forever, I understand it and I’m good at it, but if I can get into more of the creative kind of space when I start working, I’ll be way happier.” Gon must notice Killua, who’s looking at him with soft eyes and a gentle smile, because he quickly adds, “Ah, sorry, that was more info than you asked for.”

“No, you’re good,” Killua reassures him. “That’s cool, I’m jealous. I don’t have a single creative bone in my body. If there isn’t an answer that’s clear and indisputable, I’m hopeless.”

Gon laughs. “Well, you’ll love pitching in games where, in your head, your pitch was clearly a strike, but the ump calls a ball.”

“There’s no way that’s how it works. There aren’t, like, machines or sensors or something to call the strike zone?”

“Yeah, right,” Gon says, clicking open a link to a page titled, “Baseball for Beginners”. “You have a lot to learn. Let’s start low and slow.”

Killua clears his throat. “Is this a children’s website?”

“You have less knowledge than the average child about this sport, so, yeah, it is.”

“How goddamn rude,” Killua scoffs, smiling when Gon looks over to show he’s joking. “Whatever, teacher. Tutor away, I guess.”

—

Gon and Killua sit in the conference room for almost three hours talking about baseball, their classes this semester, and Zushi’s birthday celebration at Eta Chi Eta last year which they were both unknowingly at. Gon shows Killua more snippets of the game from over the weekend and Killua shows Gon a video of Ikalgo and Zushi lying in Ikalgo’s bed, drunk beyond belief, belting “Defying Gravity”.

The two of them pack up their things together and head out of the campus center to walk back to their apartments with about an hour and a half until practice starts.

“Sorry, I didn’t think that would go on that long,” Gon says as they walk through the quad. “You barely have any time to cook now. Do you want to come back to my place? I’m just doing burritos from some leftovers I have, but I’ve got plenty if you want.”

Killua seriously considers this invite before declining. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ve gotta get my shit for practice back at my apartment, anyway. Even though your leftover burritos are definitely better than anything I’ve ever cooked in my life and I’m probably going to end up just making, like, mac and cheese out of a box or something.”

“I doubt that’s true.”

“Would you still doubt it if I told you that I had mac and cheese for dinner three times last week because I burnt my chicken and refused to go out and buy more?”

This sends Gon into a loud fit of laughter while Killua smiles to himself. “You need to get your protein in, Killua! You’re an athlete now,” Gon says, nudging Killua’s arm with his elbow.

“I think with that, you’ve officially failed at convincing me that you’re not a gym bro.”

Gon’s mouth drops open, feigning a look of betrayal on his face. “I open my heart to you about my career aspirations and you still think that?”

Killua shrugs. “Gym bros can have feelings every once in a blue moon. It’s rare, but not impossible. Tell me something juicier next time and I’ll reconsider my assessment.”

“I’ll give you something absolutely ravishing next time, I swear,” Gon replies, voice dropping to a rough whisper as if he’s telling a secret, and Killua feels the hairs on his arm stand up. Gon laughs at his own joke, thankfully removing the need for Killua to react to it.

Needing to talk about something else with fewer innuendo-prone response options, Killua asks Gon, “I have to head up this way to get back to my apartment; where are you?”

“I’m actually up this block, just before Main Street. I’m that little green apartment on the left.”

Killua looks up and is shocked. “You live right next to Eta Chi Eta? I seriously don’t believe that we’ve never crossed paths; I’ve been going there every single Friday for almost two years.”

Gon nods. “That’s me! Last year I lived with my aunt and just commuted to school which, I love her, but it kind of sucked for the whole ‘college experience’ deal. I only moved in a few weeks ago because I made enough money from my internship over the summer to be able to afford one of the units. It was so cheap; I guess no one really wants to live next to a frat house.”

“That’s fair,” Killua replies. “But they at least aren’t one of the houses that are throwing actual parties every weekend, so it’s a best-case scenario, especially being so close to campus and next door to Zushi.”

“Exactly!”

The two of them approach Gon’s apartment and Killua makes the mental note that it would take the same amount of time to get back to his own apartment from Eta Chi Eta as it would from Gon’s apartment. Just in case that would ever matter, knowing how long it would take to get back home from someone he just met’s apartment.

“This is me,” Gon says, and they pause on the sidewalk. “You sure you don’t wanna come in?”

Killua shakes his head. “No, it’s ok, I’ve gotta grab my stuff for practice. I’ll take you up on the offer some other time, though, for sure. See you at practice?”

“See you there!” Gon smiles and heads up the driveway to his building while Killua continues on toward his own.

Killua returns to his apartment with a content smile on his face the entire rest of the way there. He’s glad Alluka isn’t in the apartment when he gets back, knowing that she surely wouldn’t let him get out of telling her why he’s so giddy. Especially since the minute he walks in the door, he gets a text from Gon.

Gon ⚾ Freecss: btw, i’m definitely taller than you

Killua ⚾ Zoldyck: hair doesn’t count, nice try though

He drops his book bag onto his desk to replace the contents of it with what he needs for practice, which really just consists of an extra water bottle and his glove. He wonders if his uniform will be ready to bring home yet; probably not, but might as well bring the whole bag just in case.

Knock knock knock

Killua’s eyebrows furrow and he walks out of his room, heading towards the back door. He wonders who could be knocking, thinking to himself that it couldn’t be a package delivery since they always go to the front. The downside of the back door is that it has no peephole, so he can’t check before opening it; instead, he stands nearby to see if whoever is there just goes away.

“Brother, I heard your footsteps already; just come out and greet me, will you?”

Shit.

Killua pulls out his phone and texts a quick “don’t come home” to Alluka. It briefly crosses his mind that that might be too vague, she might think something is actually wrong, but he hopes that she’ll know what he means, or at least accept the message for what it is until he can call her.

Shoving his phone back into his pocket, Killua closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He shakes his head, opens the door, and is met face-to-face with his older brother.

“Hi, Killu.”

Chapter Text

“Why are you here?” Killua asks, nails already digging into his palm and voice monotone.

“I just wanted to say hello and check in on my little brother,” Illumi replies, walking through the doorway and brushing Killua’s shoulder on the way past him. “I don’t think you’ve ever actually let me into your apartment. It’s…” He pauses to look around, his expression unreadable. “It’s nice.”

Killua kicks the door shut behind him. “I didn’t want to let you in today, either, but I was hoping it would make your visit quick. What do you actually want?”

“Someone isn’t in a great mood today.” Illumi sits in one of the chairs at the small dining table in the kitchen, setting his briefcase down next to him. He must be here on a late lunch break, Killua concludes, given his outfit: Button-down dress shirt with a black tie, perfectly pleated black slacks, and black loafers polished to a shine. “Well, as I said, I wanted to see how you were doing. That, and I wanted to congratulate you on making it onto the school’s baseball team. You remember I was on the track team here, yes? I knew sooner or later you’d want to follow in my footsteps.”

Killua’s jaw drops just a touch as he narrows his eyes. “And how the fuck do you know about that?”

“I had an associate write me up a simple program to run a daily check for your name on all of the YC-affiliated websites. The official baseball roster was updated just yesterday.”

“I know Milluki wrote it for you, not an associate, so just cut the shit.” Killua runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “I can’t believe you’re having him do your dirty work for you. What, showing up on campus unannounced at any hour of the day wasn’t good enough for you?”

“Our brother’s quite tech-savvy, more than I ever was at that age,” Illumi replies. “I take the help where I can get it. I paid him for it if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Killua rolls his eyes, folding his arms in front of his chest. “I couldn’t give a fuck less about you paying him. Did you really just come over here to congratulate me? You gonna come to all my games or something?” He’s staring at Illumi, who seems to find this all humorous with a small smile on his face. “What do you not understand about me not wanting to have anything to do with you?”

“Oh, Killu,” Illumi replies. “You know my schedule won’t allow for that, but I’ll come when I can. I’ve already sent Mom and Dad the schedule for the upcoming season as well. We’re family, you know; you can’t just separate yourselves from us.”

Killua lets out a dry, sardonic laugh. “That’s fucking rich. Can I remind you that you have a sister who you, for all intents and purposes, forcibly removed from the family? For no fucking reason?”

Illumi sighs. “You and I both know what the reason was,” he says. “You’re trying to ignore us because you’re, I don’t know, going through a college crisis of self and disagreeing with everyone about everything and being eternally angry about it, which is to be expected. Alluka participated in a perversion of self. The lifestyle she’s associated herself with isn’t one that we desire to be associated with. It’s quite blatantly disgusting, so I’m not sure why you’re so confused.”

“I need you to shut the hell up right now.” Killua can feel a lump growing in his throat. “Alluka’s ex ruined her, more than you or Mom or Dad ever did, if you can believe that. And you don’t give a shit. You just care that she was with another girl.”

“The more shocking part is that you don’t seem to care at all,” Illumi says, his tone perfectly calm, showcasing how emotionally separated he is from the entire situation. “Has YC really gotten this progressive? Have the values Mom and Dad instilled in you just…” he waves his hand in the air, “dissipated?”

Killua starts to pick at his nail beds with his thumb in a futile effort to calm himself down. “Values? You want to talk about values? What kind of work do you do, again? Oh, protecting murderers and rapists and millionaire tax evaders. For what? For money? You don’t have a morally upstanding bone in your body, so don’t give me shit about ‘values’.”

Illumi chuckles. “I’m just doing my job - and I’m doing it well. It doesn’t matter what I personally believe in during those cases; it’s about doing right by my clients.”

“By fucking over innocent people affected in the process.”

“Well, they could have hired me.”

“As if they have the fucking blood money for that!” Killua raises his voice, his aggravation too big to ignore. “You’re a piece of shit, and you’re hypocritical, and so are Mom and Dad. I didn’t just not come home for the summer because I was busy. Me and Alluka want nothing to do with you. Any of you. Yet you keep showing the fuck up.”

Illumi clears his throat. “It’s ‘Alluka and I’.”

Killua stares at him, dumbfounded. “You are sociopathic.”

“Oh, please, Killu, relax,” Illumi replies. He takes another look around the apartment, something seemingly catching his eye. “I’m noticing you have what I assume is a second bedroom behind that door. Is it an office? Do you have a roommate?”

“What the fuck do you care?” Killua throws his arms out, exasperated. “It’s none of your business. I still don’t even know why the fuck you’re here.”

Illumi continues scanning the room, this time his eyes catching something in the living room. “Is that Alluka’s blanket?”

Killua’s eyes dart to the couch, seeing Alluka’s blanket - one she’s had for years - sitting atop it, and he curses under his breath.

“Don’t tell me she’s staying with you, Killu,” Illumi adds, turning back towards Killua. “You may feel bad for her, but you’re living with her? You’re choosing to associate yourself with her that closely? Aren’t you embarrassed?”

“Aren’t you fucking embarrassed?!” Killua explodes, fully shouting at his brother now. “You effectively kick your only sister out of the house because she dated another girl, and you completely cut ties, because you have a homophobic stick up your ass and a made-up ‘reputation’ you’re trying to protect. I’m doing literally the bare minimum for her by letting her stay here because, without me, she’d be out of college and on the fucking street, probably, since you got Mom and Dad to cut her off.” He’s breathing heavily, his face red-hot, and he refuses to wipe away the angry tear he feels that fell onto his cheek. “You’re a piece of shit and a terrible brother, and there’s a reason I don’t fucking talk to any of you anymore. So for fuck’s sake, leave us the hell alone. I mean it. Keep Alluka’s name out of your fucking mouth and stop showing up here.”

Illumi sighs again, grabbing his briefcase and standing up. “I thought you were better than this, Killu,” he says, walking toward the door. “You really need to use better judgment. I’m sure you will in a few years, but I wish you were now.” He stops in the doorway and turns around to face Killua. “I can tell you’re letting your emotions get the better of you at the moment, so I’ll leave, but I’ll see you soon. Also, your language is degenerative at worst and embarrassing at best. Clean it up.”

Killua scoffs. “Right, I’ll make a note to take life advice from you of all people. Fuck off.” He shoves Illumi in the shoulder and sends him back just enough of a step to slam the door in his face and lock it.

“I’ll see you soon, Killu.” Through the door, Killua hears Illumi walk down the back steps and he closes his eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath.

He feels hot tears sitting just under his eyes and mutters to himself, “Shit.” Calming himself down right now feels like a monstrous feat, and he’s mentally pulled back to when he was first told that Alluka was effectively being disowned. He digs his nails into his palms again and tries to steady his breathing, his heart racing a mile a minute.

He can’t take it anymore; Killua sinks against the wall down to the floor and thinks that if he just lets it out for five minutes, maybe he’ll feel fine. He buries his head in his arms that are wrapped around his legs and sobs, shoulders shaking and tears flowing for several minutes.

Trying to remember what he’s supposed to do to quell an anxiety attack, he starts to count to himself in more trembling breaths.

“One, t-two, three, four,” he whispers, breathing in throughout. Holding his breath, he mentally counts to seven, but at five, he releases involuntarily in a wet, choked breath.

He tries again.

And again.

And a fourth time, when he can finally make it through the counts of four-seven-eight five times in a row in line with his breathing. Killua continues to sit on the ground after this for several minutes, head still in his arms, just breathing and continuing to calm down.

He feels exhausted, as if he had run a marathon this morning, and tries not to think about the last time he had his anxiety affect him so harshly. His eyes are tired and his limbs are heavy, and the last thing he wants to do is go to practice. He figures that missing his first one isn’t a great look, so he’ll suffer through it and crawl into bed right after.

Killua gets up from the floor and checks his phone, noticing that he has about forty-five minutes until practice and a missed call from Alluka. He doesn’t have the energy to call her back, so he sends her a text reading: “Illumi came over, but he’s gone now. can’t talk - practice soon. see you later?”. Alluka replies with a thumbs up and a heart, and Killua grabs a granola bar from the pantry to eat as a “good enough” dinner from the couch.

He lays down and stares up at the ceiling, unwrapping the bar, though he barely has an appetite. He just thinks it will be worse to pass out at practice than to just eat the damn thing.

After about ten minutes of small, reluctant bites, Killua pries himself off of the couch and goes to change clothes. He throws on a pair of basketball shorts and an old concert tee and, as he’s tying up his sneakers, makes a mental note to remember to buy cleats before his next practice on Thursday.

The walk up to campus is slow, the heat in the air increasing Killua’s lethargy. He takes an unusual trip, avoiding his usual route down the street where the Eta Chi Eta house is, to hopefully avoid having to interact with anyone before he absolutely has to.

He gets to practice just a few minutes early and drops his bag by the fence, feeling grateful he doesn’t yet see Gon or Zushi. Though, it doesn’t occur to him that he might have to interact with anyone else until Coach Bisky is calling his name.

“Afternoon, Killua!” Coach Bisky says as she walks up next to his bag.

“Hey, Coach,” he replies, not having nearly enough energy to fake his mood any more than a soft smile.

“You feeling alright?” she asks, gently grabbing his shoulder. “You don’t sound too great, and you’re not looking too good either.”

Killua shakes his head. “Sorry, no, not really. I think it’s the heat and a head cold or something. But I can practice through it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “Gon and I met up earlier for a few hours to go over a ton of things and he told me that we’ll be practicing mostly just us together for a few weeks, so I think I can manage.”

Coach Bisky gives his shoulder a squeeze. “I didn’t know you two already jumped into things, so as far as I’m concerned, you’re alright for today. Just take it easy, head home, get some rest, and hopefully, you’ll be better by Thursday. Sound good?”

“Are you sure?” Killua asks, a sinking feeling in his stomach. “I didn’t really want to miss practice, especially my first one.”

“Positive. If you’re feeling up for it tomorrow or Wednesday, run some laps around the track or here on the field just to get your body moving. It’ll help with the transition into regular practices.”

Killua had never felt more positively toward a faculty member in his life. “Thank you so much, Coach, I really appreciate it. I’ll be good for Thursday. And I’ll actually have some cleats.”

Bisky laughs. “Good idea. Your uniforms won’t be ready by then, not like there’s any rush, but we’ll have your other gear ready - sweatshirts, tees, that kind of stuff - so bring a bag, alright?”

“Sounds good. See you Thursday; thanks again.”

Coach Bisky nods with a smile before turning to go and join the team and start practice. As Killua walks off the field and puts his headphones in, he sees Gon jogging out of the corner of his eye, clearly trying (and already failing) not to be late for practice. He fully looks down at his phone trying (and also failing) to go unnoticed.

He hasn’t started any music yet, but he keeps on walking with his head down as if it’s playing at full volume while he ignores Gon calling his name.

“Hey, Killua! Where you headed? … Killua? … Oh shit, Killua, are you alright?”

Head down.

Killua thinks he’s made it in the clear once he no longer sees Gon in his peripheral vision. Though, he wasn’t quite expecting Gon to turn around and grab him by the shoulder.

“Shit,” Killua mutters as he jumps from the unexpected contact, startled. He turns around and pulls a headphone out of his left ear. “What?”

Gon’s words noticeably get caught in his throat as he seemingly wasn’t expecting such a cold welcome. “I, um. Are you okay?”

“Not feeling great. Coach told me to go home and rest, which is what I’m gonna do.”

“Can I do anything for y-”

“No, I’m good, thanks. I’ll see you Thursday.” Killua cuts him off and turns on his heel to continue to walk home, feeling too worn down to feign any sort of positive emotions. Which, in turn, makes him feel even worse that he was just a dick to Gon for no externally obvious reason.

The day just keeps getting better.

—

The week continues just about as well as Monday went. By the time Alluka came home Monday night, Killua was already in his room with the lights off, faking sleep. The next morning, he waited until she left for classes to sneak out, use the bathroom, grab some water, and go back into his room, deciding he was skipping classes for the day and would just watch the recordings.

Alluka periodically returned throughout the day on Tuesday; knowing Killua was home the entire time clued her into knowing what he was going through, even if not exactly what caused it, so she did what she knew she had to do: Ask Palm for class notes from that day, tell Ikalgo that Killua has a bad stomach bug and should be better later in the week, and text Killua letting him know that she’s leaving for a few hours, but that she left a water bottle and some snacks by his bedroom door.

Killua didn’t have classes on Wednesday, which gave him a good excuse to stay in his apartment for another day. He was feeling well enough to wrap a blanket around himself and go out onto the couch to watch some movies with Alluka. When he emerged, Alluka did nothing but smile, toss him the remote, and announce that she was going to make them some popcorn - exactly how Killua was hoping she would react.

Thursday rolled around and Killua was ready to face the world again. He went to his classes, got lunch with Palm and Ikalgo, and took another trip to the sporting goods store to actually buy some cleats before practice that night. The major problem that’s now presenting itself to Killua is the problem of Gon.

Gon had been texting Killua since after Monday’s practice, and every single message had gone unanswered.

Gon ⚾ Freecss: hey how are you doing? (Monday, 7:51 PM)

Gon ⚾ Freecss: hope you’re feeling better today! (Tuesday, 8:34 AM)

Gon ⚾ Freecss: ran into Ikalgo, said your sister told him you were still sick. do you need anything from campus? (Tuesday, 1:06 PM)

Gon ⚾ Freecss: YOU NEED TO SEE THIS GUY PITCH HE’S INSANE youtube.com/ih2cu93wu8r (Tuesday, 6:22 PM)

Gon ⚾ Freecss: i’m probably way overthinking this because i’m sure you’re actually sick, but just in case this is part of it, sorry if i made you uncomfortable by asking you to come over. i didn’t want to give you the wrong impression and it literally was just to have dinner, but i know we had like just met so maybe that’s weird idk. if you want to cancel our tutoring sessions i totally understand and i can ask Zushi if he’s able to help (Tuesday, 11:43 PM)

Gon ⚾ Freecss: ok i was re-reading my text to you and it totally seems like i was hitting on you but then doubled back and lied about it, but i swear to god it really was just for some dinner. i think you’re really cool and i did really want to be your friend like right after we met but if i fucked that up i’m really sorry and we can just be teammates if you want but i just wanted you to know that if you do wanna be friends i’d really like that (Wednesday, 12:10 AM)

Now, as Killua’s leaving campus with Ikalgo to head back to his apartment for a few hours before practice, he finds himself thinking about the texts and kicking himself for making the poor guy feel like he didn’t want to be friends when the situation was quite the opposite. Ikalgo splits off at the Eta Chi Eta house and bids farewell to Killua who, after returning the goodbye, realizes he’s now walking in front of Gon’s apartment.

Killua waits for Ikalgo to shut the front door behind him to, in an act of sheer stupidity (or desperation, or guilt, or confidence, or…), walk up the driveway to Gon’s apartment and ring the doorbell.

Immediately after, it dawns on him that he has no idea what unit of the building is Gon’s, and he just rang the first-floor doorbell without a second thought. He looks up to the sky, cursing whatever came over him to walk up here in the first place, and turns around. Halfway back down the driveway, he hears a front door open and a voice calling out.

“Killua?”

He turns around and sees Gon standing in the doorway dressed in athletic calf socks, basketball shorts, and a YC Baseball sweatshirt.

Killua gives a small smile and a wave. “Hey, sorry for just, uh, showing up unannounced.”

Gon quickly shakes his head. “No, it’s okay! Were you leaving?”

“Oh, I realized I rang one of the doorbells without actually knowing which apartment you were in, so I wanted to avoid an uncomfortable interaction in case it wasn’t you.”

“Well, it’s me!”

“Yeah.”

…

“How are you-”

“Can I-”

The two of them pause from speaking over the other and laugh.

“You first,” Killua says and nods towards Gon.

“I was just gonna ask, how are you feeling? I hadn’t heard from you, but I heard you had, like, a nasty stomach bug or something.”

Killua feels a pang of guilt. “Yeah, I’m feeling way better now. It was just a rough couple of days. But I, um…” he trails off, trying to find what he’s trying to say and scratching his neck. “Sorry, can I come in?”

Gon looks taken aback and stumbles over his words. “Oh! Uh, yeah, um, yeah, for sure, come in.”

Killua walks back up the driveway and past Gon who’s holding the door open for him. He lets Gon go in front and lead them into his apartment on the first floor, past the stairwell and through another door with a “There’s no plate like home” welcome mat sitting in front of it.

“I need you to know that every single additional piece of information I learn about you just solidifies your meathead persona in my head,” Killua says with a smirk. “A baseball pun welcome mat? Really?”

Gon groans, covering his flushing face. “My aunt got that for me. It was that or one that said ‘Let me take you home’ with a baseball on it, and I don’t think she quite understood why I was so uncomfortable at the prospect of her getting that one for me.”

Killua laughs hard for the first time in days, for the first time since they saw each other on Monday, which just makes him feel bad all over again.

“Um, listen,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wanted to, uh, apologize for basically ghosting you all week, and for being a dick to you on Monday at practice for no reason. I had just had something really shitty happen, and then I wasn’t feeling great all week, like, not in a good space to talk to anyone, but it had nothing to do with you. I feel bad that you thought I was, like, wanting nothing to do with you.” Killua looks up at Gon, seeing a soft smile on his face. “And for what it’s worth, I also ‘really want to be your friend’ too.” He tosses up air quotes around the words from Gon’s text and now it’s Gon’s turn to laugh, throwing his head back and looking up at the ceiling as his cheeks redden again.

“Look,” Gon says, “I don’t usually have people immediately stop talking to me, okay? I was like, ‘What the hell did I possibly do?’”

“Do you usually invite people into your apartment after the first date?”

Gon stops laughing and looks back at Killua, who is now just realizing what he said, his eyes widening.

“Oh, fuck, no, I didn’t mean, like, we had a date, because, obviously, but in your texts, you thought I was ghosting you was because you invited me over for dinner, which honestly I probably should’ve taken you up on it, because then I probably wouldn’t have actually had such a shitty week, and I would’ve had more than a granola bar that night.”

“Well, I don’t usually invite people over…” Gon gives Killua a look, and Killua is acutely aware of the heat growing on his own face. “I’m kidding. It seriously was just for dinner convenience. Although, it is really funny how easily you go red.”

Killua scoffs. “Speak for yourself! I don’t think I’ve seen your face its natural shade for more than five minutes since we’ve met.”

“You say embarrassing things sometimes without even knowing it!”

“ Me? You’re, like… innuendo-city, population you.”

Gon doubles over in laughter. “What are you even saying?”

Killua joins him and shakes his head. “I think I just don’t really know how to act around people that aren’t already in my circle, which really just consists of my sister, Palm, Ikalgo, and, I guess, Zushi. Ikalgo tells me I tend to ignore people or not be able to ‘see signs’ very well, whatever the fuck that means.”

“‘See signs’?”

“Yeah, like, if someone sits next to me in class and I don’t know them, and there are other open seats, I move, because why are you in my bubble for no reason? Or if someone asks to do a group project with me, I usually say no, because I just want to do it with my friends, or by myself. It’s so much more effort otherwise.”

Gon’s staring at Killua in amusement, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth in an open smile. “So you just fully ignore when people are hitting on you?”

Killua twists his face in disgust. “People aren’t hitting on me.”

“Killua. Get real. Why else would people sit right next to you in an open classroom?”

“To piss me off?” Killua shrugs as if it’s obvious.

“Oh my god, you really are unaware,” Gon laughs, a tone of surprise in his voice. “If someone is going out of their way to get near you or spend more time with you, and they know nothing about you, it’s probably because they’re hitting on you. If they know you share hobbies or something, then it’s maybe because they just want to be friends, but otherwise, no, they’re for sure trying to go out with you.”

Killua raises an eyebrow at him. “So what hobbies do we share?”

Gon looks at him in confusion. “Huh?”

“You offered to tutor me. What hobbies did you know that we shared to make you want to be my friend?”

Gon chuckles and waves his hand dismissively. “That’s different. We had a mutual friend and I knew you needed the help. Your performance directly affects me, you know.”

Killua nods, a sarcastic look of acceptance on his face. “Sure, right.”

“Why’d you say yes?”

“To what?”

“To me tutoring you. You say you usually turn people down. So, what made me different?”

Killua narrows his eyes. “My immense desperation and lack of athleticism.”

Gon mocks Killua’s earlier facial expression and tone as he nods back and responds, “Sure, right.”

The two of them laugh and Killua bobs his head as if he’s deliberating. “Okay, well, then, I guess we need to start over. We’re friends from a unique situation, then?”

“Totally.”

“I need you to really be sure. You’re entering a very exclusive circle, you know.” 

Gon looks, again, amused. “Is that right?”

Killua nods. “Oh, absolutely. As I’ve just told you, I clearly don’t really care about adding people to my group of friends, but the friends that I do have, I’m excessively annoying about it.”

“How so?”

“I probably text Palm, Ikalgo, and Alluka, like, hundreds of times per week, and that’s even with us having lunch together every day, or living together, or hanging out all the time.”

“So you’re asking me if I’m sure I’m okay with… being your friend who you talk to and hang out with?”

“Precisely.”

Gon snorts. “Well, if it means that you won’t go days on end without answering my texts, then, sure, yeah, I think I can handle that, but thanks for the heads up.”

Killua shrugs. “Can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

After a beat of light laughter, Gon speaks again. “You can hang here, but, full transparency, I was about to pee when you rang the doorbell, so I’ll be right back.”

“Gross.” Killua scrunches up his nose.

Gon calls behind him as he walks down the hall to the bathroom, “Sorry! If we’re friends now, you’re probably gonna know every time I have to pee from now on.”

Killua laughs to himself and plops down on Gon’s couch, looking around the apartment. The layout is similar enough to his, just without the second bedroom or the back door. On the walls of the living room hang photos of Gon and, presumably, different family members. He gets up to look more closely at them and notices that most must have been taken at various baseball games and tournaments: Photos with teams and trophies, photos in his gear and holding medals, photos of him behind the plate mid-game.

One photo, in particular, catches Killua’s eye, a photo looking far older than any others on the wall. Based on looks, he guesses Gon can’t be older than four or five in the picture. He’s holding hands with two adults who look like older relatives; one, a woman, and the other, a man who looks like how Killua imagines Gon might look if you aged him up about ten years. The man is holding a plaque and wearing a baseball uniform of his own while Gon and the woman are wearing t-shirts adorning the same team name.

“You want anything to eat or are you gonna bounce again?” Gon asks as he reenters the living room. “Or are you too enamored with my cuteness in all those photos?”

Killua snorts. “Yeah, no, that’s for sure it.” He points to the last photo he was looking at. “This little guy is you, right? Who are the other two?”

Gon walks over and follows Killua’s finger to the photo in question. Killua can hear the pace of his breathing change.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Gon confirms, his voice notably holding less emotion than earlier. “I’m with my Aunt Mito, and the guy in the uniform is, uh, is my dad.”

Killua’s eyes widen. “Your dad’s a professional baseball player?”

Gon chuckles dryly. “Yeah, kind of. I mean, in that photo, he was on a minor league team about an hour outside of Yorknew. Now, though, he’s apparently on a major team in some other country.”

“Apparently?” Killua’s eyebrows furrow questioningly. “Is this, like, an NDA situation or something?”

“That would make it better,” Gon replies, “but no. I literally just don’t know what team he’s on or where he plays.”

“He doesn’t tell you?”

“He hasn’t told me anything - like, we haven’t spoken - since maybe a week after that photo was taken,” Gon says, nodding to the same picture on the wall. He turns and sits on the long corner of the couch. “My aunt says that my dad came over to her house with me and said that he needed her to watch me for a bit because he was possibly getting scouted by a major team in a league overseas somewhere. That’s the last time either of us saw him.”

Killua feels goosebumps appear on his arms. “Holy shit. So, what, you think he died or something?”

“Honestly, even that would make it better,” Gon shakes his head. “But, again, no. As of last year, I know he’s still alive and playing on a team somewhere. His best friend - my godfather, Kite - is one of the only people that my dad actually still talks to. He managed to figure out where he was in one of my dad’s vague-ass letters or emails or whatever, so he flew there and cornered my dad at his hotel, asking him what the fuck his problem was and why hasn’t he reached out to his own fucking family. My dad refused to give him any more info, like what team he was even on, and Kite said he was probably gonna move or try to switch teams now that there was a lead on where he was.” Gon’s staring at the floor as he speaks, his facial expression unreadable. “I’ve tried searching for his name online and looking at team roster photos, but I can’t find anything. It doesn’t help that there are, like, hundreds of teams around the world, some of which are in leagues I’ve never even heard of, but I’m pretty sure he also must have changed his name or had it posted differently online or something, because the last record of ‘Ging Freecss’ online is the team he was on in that photo.”

Killua shakes his head in disbelief. “Jesus Christ,” he starts, “that’s insane. I’m so sorry. Who just drops their kid off at their sister’s house and flees the country?”

“Apparently my dad,” Gon replies, another empty laugh. “It’s so stupid, because part of me wants nothing to do with him, but I think that’s part of why I’m still playing baseball. At first, it hurt too much to play once I was old enough to realize he wasn’t coming back, because he left , and he got me into baseball, but I love the game so much. I convinced myself that if I got really good, maybe I’d make it onto a professional team, and he’d want to see me, or maybe I’d get some connections that could help me find him. Not that I’m really planning on going pro after college or anything anymore, but, I guess I’m just saying that I have a, uh, difficult relationship with baseball sometimes.”

“No kidding,” Killua says. “Everyone has fucked up family members, but it sucks even more when they’re your own parents. Do you like your aunt at least?”

Gon smiles, evidently a bright spot in the whole mess. “Oh, god, I love her so much. She’s seriously the best. I never knew my mom, since she died, like, right after I was born, so Aunt Mito is basically my mom. Not that you asked for that level of detail,” he says, a sheepish look on his face. “She paid for me to stay in baseball my entire childhood, and she’s the only reason I know how to cook or bake or anything. She makes a mean chocolate croissant.”

Killua sighs contently. “God, chocolate croissants are my favorite. You know the bakery on Main Street, the one with the YC merch hanging everywhere inside? I go there at least three times a week, usually for their croissants. They’re the fucking best.”

Gon, looking clearly amused with a smile on his face, replies, “Good to know. I’ll have to try them sometime.”

“My treat, because they are seriously a must-have,” Killua replies, sitting back down on the couch. “So, uh, are you free until practice? I was gonna go back to my place, but I brought my stuff with me up to campus today, so if you wanted to hang and review some stuff, I’m free.”

Smiling wider, Gon replies, “For sure, I’m free. Did you watch that clip I sent you?”

“Not gonna lie, I didn’t even click the link.”

Gon’s mouth drops, feigning offense. “So not only did you not respond to my texts, you ignored them completely?”

Killua laughs. “I mean, I read them, but I wouldn’t say I was jumping at the chance to watch baseball highlights when I was feeling like shit, no.”

“I can fix that. Pass me the remote, you hater.”

Chapter Text

Killua is more stressed than usual.

It isn’t due to the heavy courseload, or the baseball practices, or even the tutoring sessions that are more like hangout sessions. It’s due to the fact that Alluka’s birthday is coming up and it’s impossible to keep the surprise party he’s planning a fucking secret from her because she won’t stop asking questions.

“What are you doing this Saturday?”

“I have practice.”

“What about at night?”

“I have plans.”

“But it’s my birthday!”

“Sorry, Alluka, can we just celebrate Friday instead?”

“You always go to Eta Chi Eta on Fridays!”

“Okay, you wanna come?”

“Is that seriously the only time you’re free this weekend?”

“Besides Sunday after work, yes.”

“Ugh. Fine. But I’m pissed at you and you’re making it up to me.”

Conversations similar to that had been happening for the last week almost every day and Killua didn’t know how much longer he could hold out. Palm and Ikalgo were helping him: Palm was going to take Alluka to get their nails done and have dinner on Saturday while Killua and Ikalgo set up the apartment with decorations, food, and drinks. In one of Killua and Gon’s tutoring sessions, Killua had been complaining about probably needing to “just get cupcakes from the store or something” because he definitely did not trust himself to not fuck them up if he made them himself, to which Gon adamantly replied, “Absolutely not. I’ll come over and make them after practice.”

“You’ve never even met her, I’m not gonna make you bake her cupcakes,” Killua had responded.

“Okay, then, this is a perfect excuse for me to meet her,” Gon had replied back. “I don’t care what else you’re about to say to me. I’m coming over, I’m making the best goddamn cupcakes you’ve ever had, and we’re throwing a birthday party.”

And that had been that.

Now, it was Saturday, September 9th, and party preparations were underway. Killua had already showered after practice, Palm and Alluka had left about an hour ago, and Ikalgo, Gon, and Zushi had just arrived, bags in hand.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you, or that my sister won’t be either,” Killua says to Zushi, “but why are you here?”

Zushi scrunches his nose, offended. “Who do you think got all the alcohol for today?”

Killua turns to Gon. “Aren’t you twenty-one?”

“Uh, I have a fake ID,” Zushi replies.

“He’s only half-telling the truth,” Gon says, dropping his bags onto the dining table. “We both went in, I showed my ID and paid, and Zushi stood there nearly shitting himself worrying about them asking him for his. Spoiler alert: They didn’t.”

Killua snorts. “Of course. Well, thanks, Gon, for picking up the drinks; let me know what I owe you. And thank you, Zushi, for your bravery.”

“Fuck you guys, I’m grabbing the rest of the alc from the car,” Zushi says, walking out the back door.

“Your apartment looks like the two-person version of mine,” Gon says, showing himself around the living space. “Pretty sweet that you have a back door and a little parking lot, though.”

“I know, right, that’s what I thought when I went to your place-” Killua starts to reply, but Gon cuts him off.

“Holy shit, is that you?” Gon says, eyes wide, as he darts over towards Alluka’s room.

Killua, panicked, goes after him. “Whatever you think you saw, forget it and turn around.”

“Not a fucking chance, because if this is what I think it is, I’m calling you on your bullshit.”

“Let me see!” Ikalgo joins in, jogging into Alluka’s room after them.

“Oh my god, it is!” Gon exclaims, picking up the frame.

“I’ll kill you,” Killua says faux-menacingly, not enthused. “I really will.”

“Then I’ll die happy,” Gon replies, passing Ikalgo the frame before Killua can grab it. “I thought you never played baseball before?”

Killua gives him a tired look. “You ever heard of a Halloween costume? My mom took me to the store too late and all the good costumes were sold out, so it was either that or a construction worker, and yellow is not my color.”

“Aw, Killua, you look so fucking cute,” Ikalgo says, snapping a quick photo of the picture with his phone before Killua grabs it out of his hand. “What’s Alluka supposed to be?”

“A deviled egg,” Killua replies, putting the frame back on Alluka’s nightstand. “See the devil horns and her shirt that looks like a fried egg? Her own idea, so she made the costume herself.”

“Why couldn’t you come up with something like that?” Gon snickers as Killua pushes him and Ikalgo out of Alluka’s room, shutting the door behind him.

“Didn’t I tell you I don’t have a single creative bone in my body?” Killua replies. “It was true then and it’s true now.”

“Aren’t you in ‘American Poetry’?” Ikalgo asks. “What do you even write about?”

Killua shrugs. “That’s so easy. I don’t really need to be creative. I get an assignment with guidelines, like, ‘write a haiku about trees’ or some shit, and I write it. There’s a formula. Easy.”

Gon groans, throwing his head back. “Are you for real? I should’ve taken that seminar. I’m in ‘American Literature’ and we’ve already had to read, like, two full books.”

“Oh, god, the absolute horror,” Killua says, bringing his hand to his forehead. “The absolute audacity of them asking you, a varsity athlete, to read a book. Are they even sure you can read?”

“Okay, first of all, rude; second of all, it’s ‘Division One’, like, the Roman numeral for one, at this level. Varsity is high school, which you would know if you possessed a single ounce of athleticism or at least general sports knowledge. And third of all, you’re one of us now, too, so you’re telling on yourself.”

Killua rolls his eyes. “Sure, right, my bad. Can we just make some cupcakes?”

“Oh, no,” Gon says, and Killua furrows his brows. “No offense, but I don’t really want your help.” This sends Ikalgo into a loud fit.

“Good call,” Ikalgo says through laughs. “He would for sure fuck them up.”

“Fuck the both of you,” Killua says. “I’ll just hang shit up. Or, Ikalgo, do you not trust me to do that?”

“Hey, if it doesn’t have anything to do with the food I’ll be eating, knock yourself out,” Ikalgo replies, unpacking the decorations Killua had dropped off at the Eta Chi Eta house earlier in the week. Killua shakes his head as Zushi walks back inside, remaining alcohol in hand.

“Fine, you know what? You both offered to help, so I’m fully taking you up on the offer, and I’m drinking early,” Killua replies, walking over to the dining table. “What’d you guys get?”

“What didn’t we get?” Zushi says, taking liquor bottles out of bags. “Beer, ciders, vodka, tequila, whiskey, gin, plenty of mixers, ice, oh, and two bottles of wine.”

Killua stares at Zushi, dumbfounded. “How many fucking people are we having over?”

“Well,” Ikalgo starts, pulling out his phone, “I have the invite list here, and it looks like, between us, Palm, Alluka, Alluka’s old roommates, and the list of friends the roommates gave me, we’ll be having… at least twenty people here if everyone shows up.”

“And that’s not counting if any other guys from the team show up,” Zushi adds.

Killua, in the middle of cracking open a cider, stops and looks up at Zushi. “What?”

“Dude, no way,” Gon says, also stopped dead in his tracks of measuring out ingredients. “You invited the team?”

“I just told a few of them that if they wanted to stop by towards the end of the night, we’d have plenty of alcohol,” Zushi says nonchalantly.

“You are unreal,” Gon says. “Does Alluka even know any of them?”

Zushi opens his mouth to respond but pauses. “Uh, you know what, I may have forgotten that this was a birthday party and not a regular party when I told them that.”

Gon twists his face in annoyance. “Either way, it’s Killua’s place. You can’t just invite people over to other people’s apartments.”

“It’s fine, Gon,” Killua says, even though it’s not fine and he can feel his heart beating faster and his anxiety threatening a flare-up. “It’s not like any of them are shitty, I just want to make this as much about Alluka as possible. She needs it. Is there any way you can text them and just let them know that it’s a birthday party for someone they don’t know and, like, hint that they shouldn’t come?”

“My guy, I’ll just tell them ‘My bad, I wasn’t supposed to invite anyone because it’s a birthday party for someone’. Easy,” Zushi says, already typing.

Killua’s playing with the hem of his shirt between his fingers and nodding his head back and forth. “Thanks, Zushi, really.” He doesn’t know why he still isn’t feeling calmed down at all, so he decides to go take a breather. “I’ll be right back,” he says, placing his can down on the table with more force than intended, before hurrying into his room and shutting the door behind him.

He sits on the edge of his bed, his hands gripping the side of his comforter, and shuts his eyes. He tries to regulate his breathing - counting in four-seven-eight - to hopefully get ahead of a meltdown brought on by no apparent reason.

The thought of the baseball team being here, logically, doesn’t even matter to him. He knows Alluka wouldn’t care, so he knows that this probably isn’t the root cause. Killua racks his brain trying to think of what could possibly be causing this right now but he comes up empty. Which, anxiety attacks out of nowhere technically are always a possibility, but they’re also his least favorite to deal with, because how the fuck is he supposed to calm himself down if there’s nothing to calm himself down from?

Killua hears his door close and jumps, eyes flying wide open to see Gon standing in front of it with a timid look on his face.

“Shit, Kil, are you okay?” Gon paces over and squats down in front of Killua, who’s still breathing heavily and couldn’t find the words to respond if he tried. So, instead, he just shakes his head in response as he mentally counts to four, to seven, to eight, taps his thumb on his knee in unison with his counting, and looks up at the ceiling to avoid eye contact.

His thumb tapping is going erratic, his breathing is getting heavier, his nails are digging into his leg, and he needs Gon to leave immediately because having somebody watch him nearly have mental breakdown is not helping quell said meltdown.

He feels his hand being pried away from his thigh and whips his head over to see Gon now sitting next to him, holding onto it tightly. Killua tries to pull it away, but Gon’s got the grip strength of- well, of a Division I athlete, so, no luck there. All he can do is continue to shake his head and avert his gaze, wishing he could just be left alone and scream into a pillow or something.

“Look, I know you don’t want me here, but I need you to get the fuck over it for a sec and let me help you, okay?” Gon asks, and Killua just keeps shaking his head, now bouncing his leg and screwing his eyes shut; maybe if he overstimulates his body in every imaginable way, his brain will forget about the whole anxiety attack situation.

Not likely, but he’s desperate.

“I’ll count with you, okay? Can you just- Kil, can you just look at me?” Gon says sternly, shocking Killua enough to get him to open his eyes and meet Gon’s. “I get it, this is awkward for you. I don’t care. Be embarrassed later. But right now, I need you to try to just count, okay? Just breathe, I’ll count out loud, and you keep tapping your thumb against my hand. Sound good?” Killua musters a nod and Gon squeezes his hand. “Okay. In. One, two, three, four.”

Killua breathes in, tapping his thumb in unison with Gon’s counting.

“Great,” Gon says, “hold for seven.”

And Killua does.

“Okay, now out for eight.”

And Killua breathes out for eight.

“Alright, one more time.”

So they go one more time.

“Good. Again.”

So they go again.

Killua’s heart is beating at least close enough to a normal rhythm, his breathing only slightly elevated, and his hand clammy. He looks down and quickly pulls his hand out of Gon’s, wiping it feverishly on his own pants as he turns his head away, feeling humiliated.

“You know,” Killua says meekly after a few seconds of silence, “I usually do it five times.”

Gon looks at him, confused. “Do what five times?”

“The whole four-seven-eight thing. I usually do it five times - you did it three.”

Gon lets out an incredulous laugh. “Oh, my bad, I’ll remember that for your next anxiety attack that I walk in on.”

Killua flicks him in the bicep. “How insensitive!”

“Talk about insensitive, I just helped you and you’re correcting my form.”

“Well,” Killua starts, “wouldn’t you want someone to correct your form if you were performing CPR incorrectly?”

Gon snorts. “You suck.”

“I get that a lot.”

The two sit in more silence, more comfortable this time, before Killua speaks up again. “Thanks for, uh, helping. I don’t really know what that was all about.”

“I was gonna ask if you’ve ever had any anxiety or panic attacks before, but I’m guessing the answer is yes based on what you said.”

Killua nods. “Yeah; A few weeks ago was the first one I had had in months, and this is the first one I’ve had over, well, nothing, in…” He bobs his hide side to side, thinking. “Honestly, I don’t even know how long it’s been. A while.” Killua looks back at Gon. “I’m guessing you, too?”

“Oh, yeah,” Gon replies. “I mean, I haven’t ever had, like, an actual anxiety attack as far as I can tell, but I get anxious sometimes before games, or during games when I’m up next to bat, or just when I’m really stressed out; which, I guess I wouldn’t call that anxiety, really, but I find myself getting really in my head and my body trying to keep up. It was really bad in my first few little league games right after my dad left because he used to come to every single game. That’s when Aunt Mito showed me the four-seven-eight method, and I’ve used it ever since whenever I get nervous, or anxious, or angry, I guess.”

“Angry? You?”

“Yeah, believe it or not, this jock’s got a wide range of emotions, don’t you know,” Gon chuckles.

Killua smiles softly. “Good to know that if I ever piss you off, I’ve got, like…” he looks down at his fingers, counting on them, “an entire minute of a head start.”

Gon rolls his eyes. “Even a five-minute head start wouldn’t be good enough. I’m the athlete here.”

“I’m for sure faster than you.”

“Maybe, but I don’t think you could actually run for five full minutes without getting winded.”

Killua crinkles his nose, offended. “Okay, coach, then add ‘increasing my endurance’ to your list of things to teach me in our tutoring sessions.”

Gon sucks his bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes enlarge ever so slightly, in such “blink and you’ll miss it” speed, before clearing his throat and pushing himself off of the bed. “Noted, we can- uh, I can do that.” He stops just before the door and turns back around towards Killua. “You good to come out now, or you want a few minutes alone?”

“No, I’m good now,” Killua replies, following suit. “Thanks again, really. And please don’t mention it to any of them. No one besides Alluka really knows the extent of my, uh, episodes, I guess.”

Gon gives him a soft, comforting smile from the side of his mouth. “Of course.”

“And please don’t mention it to me. Ever. You said I’m allowed to be embarrassed later and I’m using that freebee now.”

“Sure, knock yourself out, Killua,” Gon laughs, opening the door.

Wait.

“Actually,” Killua says quickly, prompting Gon to turn around, “I just need a sec, I think I left something in here anyways. Can you just close the door and I’ll be out in a minute?”

“You got it.” Gon walks out and shuts the door after him and Killua stands in his room alone, huffs in a deep breath, and sighs heavily, scrunching his eyes in confusion.

He whispers to himself, shaking his head. “Kil?”

—

Eight hours later and the party is in full swing.

Alluka had cried when she and Palm arrived; immediately after, she ran to Killua, embraced him in a tight hug, and said, “You’re so lucky you didn’t actually make other plans on my birthday because I was so mad at you.”

The entire invite list had ended up coming, even a few of the baseball boys; though, luckily, the ones that showed up were sophomores that had some classes or mutual friends with Alluka, so they weren’t really out of place.

Once Killua had emerged from his room after deciding he was in a much-too-precarious mental position to think too hard about his new nickname, he doubled down on his whole “drinking early” stance. So, now, at half-past nine, he was sufficiently drunk. Not a concerning amount, not nearly an amount to where his friends would worriedly tell him to stop, but certainly past the point of being able to confidently say, “Yeah, I definitely won’t be hungover tomorrow”.

“Does anyone know how to make jelly shots?” Killua asks loudly between sips of his orange juice, vodka, and grenadine concoction that Palm had mixed for him. 

Ikalgo drops down next to Killua on the couch, draping his arm over Killua’s shoulders. “My bestie for the restie, they’re called Jell-O shots, and they take hours to cool.”

Killua makes a toddler-like groan of annoyance. “Fuck that. I need something sweet.”

“Hey,” Palm calls from the kitchen, “I put extra grenadine in your cup for you. The only thing sweeter in this apartment than that drink is me.” She brings her hand under her chin innocently.

“That is for sure,” Zushi replies. Palm rolls her eyes with a smile and Killua turns his head, chuckling, to Ikalgo, whose face he notices has gone firm.

“You good, dude?” Killua asks, shifting his head in front of Ikalgo’s. Ikalgo blinks a few times as if he had zoned out and nods.

“Oh, yeah. I think I, uh…” he trails off, looking around the room, and his eyes lock onto something. “I just need to pee. But I’d never leave you alone! I’ll let our all-star keep you company.” He gets up, ignoring Killua’s narrowed, confused eyes, and pats the newcomer on the shoulder before they plop down onto the couch in his place.

“Helloooooo,” the person’s voice says, and Killua looks to his left.

“Gon!” he exclaims. “Your cupcakes, dude? Fucking fire. I had, like, four of them.”

Gon snorts, almost spilling his beer mid-sip. “Oh, I noticed. Was I right? Are they the best cupcakes you’ve ever had?”

Killua stares at him, his face set, as if he had just been asked the most serious question in the world. “Like, without a single doubt. I need the recipe.”

“I thought you couldn’t bake.”

“Then I need you to make them for me every single day for the rest of my life,” Killua says. “I’ll do your homework for the rest of the year if I can just eat those fucking cupcakes.”

Gon is loudly laughing now, his level of inebriation not too far behind Killua’s. “Okay, so that covers, like, nine months. What about the other sixty years?”

Killua shrugs, taking a sip. “Whatever you want. I don’t fuck around when it comes to desserts.”

“You know,” Gon replies, leaning back into the couch, “a few weeks ago, you were asking me if I was sure about being your friend. Now you’re locking me in for life?”

“I told you, once you’re in, you’re in.”

Gon yawns, stretching his right arm over the back of the couch. “Fair enough.”

Killua squints and leans in closer to Gon, examining him. Gon, in turn, struggles to keep a straight face.

“What’re you up to?”

“Did Ikalgo call you an all-star?” Killua asks, still peering at Gon as if he’s looking for some sort of branding of this title somewhere on Gon’s face.

Gon grimaces, going to take another sip of his drink. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Why?”

“Hell if I know,” he shrugs, avoiding meeting Killua’s eyes.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m lying?”

“Yup,” Killua reaffirms, popping the ‘p’. “You looked away when you answered me. Liar!”

Gon lets his arm drop and grabs Killua’s right shoulder. “You,” he says, squeezing, “are hammered.”

“And you,” Killua starts, shoving his finger at Gon’s chest, “are not too far behind.”

Gon goes to take another sip as he hums in agreement but finds that his drink is empty. He groans and throws his head back onto the couch. “Getting up is so much effort.”

“I got it,” Killua says, leaning forward to get up, but Gon grabs his shoulder again and pulls him back.

“No, you’re my armrest now,” he replies, letting go of his hold on Killua’s shoulder but keeping his arm resting atop both of them still. “Yo, Zushi!” he calls over. Mid-conversation with Alluka, Zushi looks over at them, back and forth between Gon and Killua, and tries to hide his laughter at what Killua presumes is something funny his sister said. Zushi whispers something to her before walking over.

“What’s up, broseph?” Zushi says, a smirk on his face as he looks at Gon. “Having a good time?”

Gon glares back up at him. “I’d be having a better time if you got me a beer or two.”

“And two shots!” Killua interjects, prompting Gon and Zushi to shift their attention towards him.

“And why exactly can’t either of you go get these drinks?” Zushi asks, still visibly amused.

Killua shrugs a few times as if to bring attention to Gon’s arm over his shoulders. “I’m trapped and being used as furniture,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Is that it?” Zushi presses, clearly on the verge of breaking into heavy laughter.

“I hate you,” Gon says. Killua turns his head over to see Gon’s face ever so slightly flushed.

From the drinking, of course.

“That’s not a good way to get him to bring us drinks,” Killua pouts. “You should apologize.”

“Yeah,” Zushi says, “you should for sure apologize to me. I’ll get you anything you want, big guy.”

Gon’s staring at Zushi with his mouth agape and eyes narrowed. “Okay. I am so sorry, Zushi, that you are consistently the biggest pain in my ass and that you sometimes have to suffer the consequences of it.”

This sends Killua into a laughing fit while Zushi stands there, nodding his head back and forth, no longer amused.

“Okay, my friend, shitty apology accepted for now,” Zushi replies, grabbing Gon’s empty can and Killua’s empty cup. “I’ll bring you both some drinks, but I’m making them. And we’re taking shots together.”

“I love you, Zushi,” Killua says, a drunken smile plastered on his face. “I love you so much and you’re my new best friend and Ikalgo could never compare.”

“Don’t let Gon hear you,” Zushi says over his shoulder, while Ikalgo shouts something about overhearing Killua and calling him a dick. “He’s a jealous man.”

Killua looks over at Gon whose jaw is set in annoyance. “Aw, Gon,” he says, leaning his head into Gon’s shoulder. “You could’ve been my best friend if you were going to get me drinks.”

Gon’s body is rigid and only his head turns to look at Killua. “Is that all it takes?”

“I’m pretty easy to please.”

“Wait, what the fuck, I thought I was making you cupcakes forever or something? Is that not enough?”

Killua can smell an interesting mixture of Gon’s breath (beer) and cologne (pine) at his current angle; if he were sober, he would be annoyedly pushing Gon away to “get out of his breath zone”.

But, he’s not sober, and he’s comfortable, so, what the hell.

“Don’t worry, you can be more than my best friend.”

Gon’s eyes go wide. “I, uh. What?”

Killua smiles. “My best friend and my personal chef!”

Gon just blinks at him, an unreadable look on his face, but quickly shakes it off. “Ah, got it,” he says, chuckling. “Sure, Kil, that sounds like a plan to me.”

There it is again.

“You keep-”

Killua’s sentence gets cut off by Zushi’s return, two solo cups and three shot glasses in hand, and he’s forgotten what he was about to say.

“I come bearing gifts!”

“What do we got?” Killua asks, sitting upright and rubbing his palms together.

“Well, first, we’ve got shots, and I brought you only the best,” Zushi replies, handing Gon and Killua each a shot glass full to the brim. Gon brings it to his nose, sniffs, and contorts his face.

“Vodka, Zushi? Really?” he asks. “This shit is revolting by itself.”

“You’re such a baby,” Zushi replies. “Just plug your nose. Oh, wait. You can’t.”

Killua looks between the two of them - between Gon’s stone face and Zushi’s amused one - and feels confused.

“Why can’t he?” he asks, and Zushi snaps and points at him.

“A great, question, Killua. Gon, care to answer?” Zushi asks, turning his attention back to Gon.

“I care to punch you in the head and take this shot so you’ll leave me the fuck alone,” Gon says, evidently peeved.

Zushi purses his lips. “Feisty,” he says and brings his glass forward. “Alright, boys, down the hatch.”

The three of them take the shot in unison and all scrunch their faces in the process. Killua sticks his tongue out to try and get rid of the taste, Gon coughs, and Zushi takes a sip of one of their drinks.

“That shit is rancid,” Gon says, shoving the shot glass into Zushi’s chest for him to take it back and grabbing his drink. “You didn’t have any other options?”

“I mean, I would’ve opted for tequila,” Zushi starts, swapping Killua’s shot glass for his new drink, “but I know how that makes you frisky.”

Gon once again throws his head back against the couch. “Oh my fucking god.”

“Is that what they usually say when you have tequila?” Killua says, clearly finding his own attempt at a joke absolutely hilarious as he tries to keep himself from laughing. “But, like, the emphasis is different, so it’s like, ‘oh, my, fucking god’, you know?” He interjects the phrase with moans and only vaguely notices Alluka shooting him a disgusted look.

Zushi folds over in hysterical laughter while Killua has tears welling in his eyes as he tries to contain his own.

Gon nods, his tongue sitting between his lips, before narrowing his eyes at Killua and taking on a mischievous look. As Gon uses the arm he’s got hooked around Killua’s shoulders to pull him in by the neck, Killua can’t help but continue to laugh to himself.

Until Gon’s got his mouth pulled right against Killua’s ear and the rest of Killua’s laughter dies in his throat.

“You interested in finding out?” Gon whispers, and Killua feels a chill run down his spine.

Killua pulls back just enough to meet Gon’s eyes, his own blown wide open, and clears his throat. “What?”

Gon raises his eyebrows questioningly, an innocent smile on his face, and pulls Killua’s shoulder back with his looped arm so that they’re back in their positions from moments ago. “Huh?”

Killua’s still staring wide-eyed at him and can feel that his face is hot and definitely red. Somewhere deep in his brain, in one of the few small logical recesses of it that are still functioning, he decides he can attribute his flush to the drinking.

He releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding and drags his free hand down his face, resting his head on it when it reaches his jaw. Gon pouts at him like he’s staring at a small puppy.

Or an embarrassed Killua.

“Why so red, Kil?” Gon asks, his voice sickeningly sweet as if he hadn’t just insinuated… well, whatever he had insinuated.

And again with that fucking nickname.

Instead of responding, Killua takes one look at the liquid in his cup, whatever it is, and takes a gulp. The gut-punching strength of the drink knocks him out of his trance.

“Zushi, what the fuck did you put in here?” he says, looking down to the floor where Zushi’s decided to sit.

Zushi’s got his head nestled against the seat of the couch, blissfully unaware of the events that had gone on above him. “Hmm…” he trails off, tapping his forefinger against his chin. “Vodka, tequila, rum, gin, a splash of orange juice, and some coke.”

Killua stares blankly at him. “You made me a fucking Long Island?”

Zushi snaps. “Oh, yeah, that’s what it’s called!”

“Technically, a long island has triple sec, not orange juice,” Gon says before taking a sip. “But, honestly, this is pretty good anyways.”

“Oh, god,” Killua says, throwing his head back. “You guys are gonna be too drunk and have to sleep on my couch, aren’t you?”

Gon snorts. “Yeah, I think even one of us fitting on your couch would be impressive.”

Zushi, apparently having decided he’s bored of the situation, gets up to leave. “Let me know if either of you want another drink from your resident bartender, Zushi Mixalots,” he says before walking back over to the kitchen.

Killua laughs out loud. “Will do.”

Gon and Killua are once again alone on the couch, an invisible bubble separating them from the rest of the party. Killua’s not sure what to say, so he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

“You know you’ve been calling me by a different name today.”

Gon furrows his eyebrows at him as he looks over. “I have?”

Killua nods. “Yeah,” and takes a sip of his drink.

Gon tilts his head towards Killua and raises his eyebrows as if asking him to continue. “And…?”

“And, what?” Killua shrugs. “I’m just pointing it out.”

“I have no idea what you mean, though,” Gon chuckles. “What have I been calling you?”

Oh.

“Oh, uh,” Killua stumbles over his words. “A few times today you just called me Kil. Instead of, um, Killua.”

Gon looks shocked himself; he opens and closes his mouth twice, evidently looking for the words to say.

“Sorry about that,” he says, removing his arm from Killua’s shoulders. Killua suddenly feels like he needs a sweatshirt. “I didn’t realize I was doing it.”

Killua feverishly shakes his head. “No, I didn’t bring it up because, like, I dislike it,” he clarifies. “I just was wondering, I guess, why.”

“Why?”

“Like, why you called me it.”

Gon shrugs, a timid smile on his face. “I honestly don’t know; it probably just came out and felt normal in the moment or whatever.” He takes a quick gulp from his cup. “That’s not the first time you’ve been called that, though, right?”

Killua shakes his head again. “Not once before today.”

Gon looks mortified.

“Oh, god,” he says, throwing his right hand over his eyes. “That’s so embarrassing.”

“And you say I get red easily,” Killua laughs. “I told you, it’s fine. I literally could not care less. I was just wondering.”

“I guess I just say whatever I want when I’m drunk,” Gon says, holding eye contact for just a beat longer than necessary. He flashes a mischievous smile before taking another sip and looking away.

Killua doesn’t have the strength to tell him that he used the nickname before they started drinking or the resolve to ask him to elaborate on what he just meant by saying that.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to muster either of those qualities, because Alluka is suddenly standing in front of him.

“Brother!” She wraps her arms around his neck and Killua all but defies gravity with his arm in order to keep his drink from spilling on her.

“What’s up, Alluka? Having fun?” Killua asks. He glances over her shoulder at Gon who mouths him an ‘I’ll see you later’ with a smile before getting up from the couch.

“Oh, yeah,” Alluka says, releasing Killua and leaning back, and Killua can smell the same liquor on her breath that he’s sure is on his. “Palm and Ikalgo just told me to ask if you wanted to come outside and smoke on the balcony stairs. You in?”

Killua figures he could use some calming down and nods. “Totally in. Grab some waters and I’ll be right out?” Alluka nods and walks away, leaving Killua to stand and finish his drink. He tosses his empty cup in the trash before taking a quick detour to the bathroom.

He shuts the door and splashes some cold water on his face. Looking in the mirror, he dries his face and fixes his hair, quickly realizing how drunk he really is as he blinks himself back into focus.

He hears a knock at the door and flashes himself a quick smile in the mirror before opening the door and seeing Zushi.

“Yo, you interested in smoking outside with me, Palm, and Ikalgo?” Killua asks, but Zushi shakes his head.

“Thanks for the offer, but nah, I’m good,” he replies. “I’m gonna go give Gon some shit.”

Killua laughs. “Haven’t you done that enough tonight?”

“It’s never enough,” Zushi says, patting Killua on the head. “You’ll learn that soon enough. Take a hit for me,” he adds before sliding past Killua and into the bathroom. Killua chuckles to himself and grabs his lighter from the entry table just beside the back door before heading outside.

Palm takes one look at Killua before flashing a smile and grabbing Ikalgo’s cheek. “I told you he’d bring the lighter, Iggy. Now pass me the bowl.”

Finally, some normalcy for the evening. 

—

Gon hadn’t called Killua “Kil” since the party and it was bothering the shit out of him.

“My thing is,” Killua says through a mouthful of fries, “No one has ever called me by a nickname. I mean, besides my brother, but he doesn’t count. It’s not like he’s doing it endearingly.”

“Do nicknames have to be used endearingly?” Palm asks, finally unwrapping her scarf and putting it on her chair.

It’s the first day back in classes after Thanksgiving break - a little over two and a half months since Alluka’s birthday party - and for all intents and purposes, things were normal. Classes were slowing down ahead of finals, practices were ramping up in preparation for the start of the season in a few months, and Killua’s social life had pretty much stayed the same.

Except for the increase in tutoring sessions that weren’t really always tutoring sessions but that neither Killua nor Gon would call anything different.

“Hey, you free in an hour for a tutoring session? We can head to the fields and run some drills!”

“You want to come over for a tutoring session? I made the best lasagna, my aunt’s recipe, and I actually think it’ll change your life.”

“What are your thoughts on moving our tutoring session to Eta Chi Eta on Friday at eight PM?”

“Tutoring session” had become a euphemism for “hanging out”, which they were now doing at least every other day. They had gotten exceptionally close and the jury was still out on whether Killua was closer to Gon than he was to Ikalgo after having known each other for this amount of time. At the very least, Killua was definitely spending more hours per week with Gon than with Palm, Ikalgo, or Alluka.

And they noticed.

They weren’t annoyed or upset - it wasn’t like Killua was canceling plans or hanging out with them less because of it - but they noticed, and they loved to give him shit for it.

“I guess not,” Killua replies to Palm. “I mean, you call Ikalgo ‘Iggy’ and I’m pretty sure you’re just doing it because you want to, not out of endearment.”

Ikalgo and Palm share a quick glance before they both laugh and Ikalgo takes a sip of his drink.

“Sure, but from what I know about Gon, he doesn’t seem like the type to just go around calling people whatever he feels like,” Palm says, swirling her tea. “There must be a reason.”

Ikalgo nods his head in agreement. “Yeah, dude, why don’t you just ask him?”

Killua gives him a questioning look. “That’s so weird.”

“You asked him why he called you it in the first place, so it clearly isn’t that weird. Why do you even care so much?”

“I don’t.”

“I can guarantee you that if I called you a nickname out of the blue, you’d think nothing of it, especially two months later,” Ikalgo replies. “Or you’d smack me.”

Killua rolls his eyes. “You’re absolutely no help.” He looks over to Palm, who’s holding back a laugh. “What the hell is so funny?”

Palm lets out a chuckle involuntarily, looking away. “You are. You’re so dense it actually hurts to listen to you sometimes.”

Killua throws his hands up in front of him, exasperated, before letting them fall heavily onto the table. “What the fuck are you saying?”

“Damn, why are you so ticked off?” The three of them turn their heads to the new voice and see Gon walking by the table. Palm, evidently finding this hilarious, laughs out loud at his arrival. Gon turns his attention to her, an amused look on his face. “Is anyone at this table okay right now?”

“Palm is making fun of Killua - rightfully so - and Killua is mad that he doesn’t understand why,” Ikalgo explains and Killua gives a deadpan look to Gon.

“You busy?” Killua asks, already getting up from his seat. “Can we go do something? Please? You wanna go hang at your place?”

Gon laughs. “Interested in an impromptu tutoring session?”

“Very much so.”

Ikalgo and Palm snicker. “Enjoy it,” Ikalgo says, wiggling his eyebrows up and down, “and be safe.”

Killua glares at them while Gon furrows his eyebrows. “What?” Gon asks.

“Ignore them,” Killua says, grabbing Gon by the arm and pulling him away and toward the stairs. “They think we’re being sneaky.”

“Sneaky about what?”

“Like, we’re trying to hide the fact that we’re hooking up.” Killua waves his hand in the air as if it’s nothing.

Gon’s head whips over to look at Killua, wide-eyed. “You told them we’re hooking up?”

Killua looks at him, horrified. “Why the fuck would I tell them that?”

“You just said they think we’re trying to hide the fact that we’re hooking up.”

“Yeah.”

“As in, you’re saying we’re hooking up, and they think we’re trying to hide it.” Gon pushes open the door to leave the campus center, the newly-cool air hitting their faces.

Killua spends a few seconds silent, playing his words over in his head.

Oh.

“Oh my fucking god,” he says, his cheeks going red. “No, no, I said that totally wrong. I meant, like, they think we’re saying ‘let’s go have a tutoring session’ as a cover for hooking up or something. Which we’re not doing. Obviously. And I don’t actually even think they think we are, I think they just like to fuck with me. Well, I know they do, but. You know what I mean.”

Gon lets out a strained laugh. “That makes way more sense. I mean, not them thinking we’re hooking up, because like you said, obviously, but them just saying things to mess with you.”

“Right.”

The two walk in silence next to each other across the entire quad, not quite knowing what to say.

Until Killua, not for the first time, blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind. 

“Are you hooking up with anyone?”

Gon, clearly caught off guard, sputters out a laugh and shoves his hands into his sweatshirt pocket. “Oh?”

“Oh, what?”

“Just…” Gon trails off as he leans forward to make sure the street is clear, swishing his head back and forth, before crossing. “Why?”

Killua shrugs, figuring his shame has been thrown to the wind and that there’s no reasonable way that he can take back the question now, anyway. “Just wondering, I guess. You don’t talk to your friends about who anyone’s hooking up with?”

Gon suppresses a smirk. “Believe it or not, I don’t, no,” he says, “and I don’t think I’ve ever heard you, Palm, or Ikalgo talk about it, either. But, since you’re so interested in my sex life all of a sudden, I’ll indulge you. I’m not.”

“Really?”

“You ask me and now you think I’m lying to you?”

Killua feverishly shakes his head back and forth. “No, no, it’s not that. That’s more me being surprised, I guess.”

Gon can’t help but let out a laugh. “You’re surprised that I’m, what, not sleeping with somebody? Should I be offended?”

“No! You should be, uh, flattered?” Killua asks rhetorically, not entirely sure how or why they ended up having this conversation in the first place. “I mean, like, I’m surprised that no one has, uh, offered.”

They turn up Gon’s driveway and Killua catches a glimpse of Gon who is visibly amused. “I don’t think people just walk up to other people asking them to have sex out of the blue,” Gon says.

Killua shrugs again. “I feel like if you’re hot enough, they might.”

Gon opens his building’s front door, letting Killua go in front, before locking it behind them and walking down the hall to his apartment. As he unlocks his actual apartment door and wipes his shoes on the welcome mat, he turns his head towards Killua. “Are you now calling me not hot enough for someone to want to hook up with me? I mean, damn, talk about blow after blow.”

Killua watches Gon walk into his apartment before looking up at the ceiling and hoping it might just collapse onto him. He kicks off his shoes and heads in, shutting the door behind him. “No! Ugh, I’m just saying, I’m surprised nobody has tried to hit on you.”

“I know this isn’t what you mean,” Gon starts, pouring two glasses of water, “but what you’re implying is that if someone was hitting on me or asking to hook up with me, no matter what, I would say yes. And that just isn’t true.” He brings both glasses over, hands one to Killua, and sits on the couch. “I have standards, you know. I might even have a type. And, anyways, I’m not really a hook-up kind of person.”

Killua mumbles a small “Thanks” to Gon as he’s handed his glass of water and takes a large sip before responding. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I guess I was just trying to say that I would have expected you to have had girls hit on you before, especially since you’re an athlete and some of them are probably into that, and, I don’t know, I assumed that maybe at some point you might’ve said yes.”

Gon lets out a dry laugh. “Yeah, no. I mean, I guess at some parties, some girls have come up to me and asked me to dance or whatever, but I usually just want to hang with my friends, so I decline.” He runs a hand through his hair and shakes out some wind-blown tangles. “I guess when I was a freshman and lived in the dorms when the only thing to do on the weekends was to go to frat parties, I would sometimes kiss people on the dance floor, but that’s it. I’ve never really been one to, like, go all the way with someone unless I was dating them. Which I never have - dated anyone, that is.” Gon looks over at Killua who has a smirk planted on his face. “Aaaand that’s more than you asked for, and now you’ve got a shit-eating grin on your face. What?”

Killua chuckles. “So, you’re saying you’ve never rounded the bases?” He raises his eyebrows a couple of times. “Never gone to second, or third, or home with anyone?”

Gon purses his lips at Killua and nods his head up and down slowly, accepting the terrible joke. “Ha, ha, you’re absolutely hilarious. I’ve definitely never heard that one before.”

“Above all else, I am a comedian at heart.”

Gon takes a gulp of his water and moves so that he’s sitting on the couch, cross-legged, facing Killua. “Okay, well, then, it’s my turn to grill you.”

Killua widens his eyes and shifts closer to the arm of the couch, away from Gon. “I’m good, actually, but thanks anyway.”

“Oh, you thought that was a question,” Gon says, clearly starting to find this topic of conversation entertaining. “Wrong. Are you hooking up with anyone?”

“Yeah, right,” Killua responds, refusing to meet Gon’s eyes. “I spend all of my fucking time outside of class and practice with you, Palm, Ikalgo, and Alluka.”

“So you would if you had the time?” Gon’s got a wide smile planted on his face. “Who with? Anyone cute try to sit next to you in class lately?” Killua shakes his head, once again looking at the ceiling. “Maybe any girls who find it super attractive that you’re on the baseball team now?” Gon must notice the look of disgust that flashes across Killua’s face, a look that passes so quickly that Killua doesn’t even realize he did it, because of Gon’s next question. “Any guys on the team?”

Killua’s face and ears go red almost instantly and he grabs a pillow from the couch with his free hand to shove his face into. “Shut up.”

“Oh my god, was I right?” Gon scoots even closer, puts his water down on the floor, and grabs the pillow from Killua. “Who is it?”

“I’m going to beat the absolute shit out of you.”

“I’ll give you one free punch if you just let me guess.”

Killua feels hot, and clammy, and uncomfortable, and embarrassed, and he wants to get sucked into the couch and go wherever lost remotes or single socks end up. “I am not trying to hook up with anyone, thank you very much. Where would I even go about doing that? I share an apartment with my fucking sister, and that is not something I’d like to trust the thickness of the walls during.”

Gon laughs and tosses the pillow behind him. “I live alone.”

Killua’s head whips around and he goes even redder. “And what the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

“Bro code, obviously. I could loan you my apartment,” Gon says, voice dripping in sarcasm.

“What, you have hidden cameras or something? You’re dirty.”

Gon rolls his eyes and loudly sighs. “You caught me. I want you to fuck another guy in my bed, actually, and I want to have a secret recording of it to go back to and watch later.”

Killua’s stunned into silence and feels the air in the room become thick and unbearable. He knows he needs to say something, anything, to change the fucking subject before he implodes or makes a fool of himself even more than he’s already done.

Or, he can be a little shit about it and deepen the hole he’s digging for himself.

“Okay,” he says, clasping his hands together as Gon reaches for his drink. “I’ll tell you what. How about I bring Zushi over here and see if the offer still stands?”

Gon chokes on his water, sending Killua into a silent laughing fit.

“Don’t tell me you’re serious,” Gon says once he gets his breath back. “Please don’t tell me you actually like Zushi.”

“Jesus Christ, that’s really what you took away from that?” Killua asks. “Absolutely not, I do not like Zushi. I mean, I love him, but entirely platonically, and even that can be a stretch sometimes. I’m just fucking with you.”

“I had never been so appalled in my life,” Gon replies. “I mean, I know it’s just a joke - which, I hope to god you know that I was kidding about all that - but I really did not need even the fleeting mental visual of you and Zushi, especially in my goddamn bed of all places.” He visibly has a chill run down his spine as his body quickly shakes. “Christ. Also, how sad would that be, my best friend breaking in my bed before me?”

Killua playfully narrows his eyes at Gon. “And, in this scenario, who’s your best friend? Me or Zushi?”

Gon looks like he’s been caught, his eyes blown wide and his cheeks going rosy. “Uh, pass?”

Killua’s mouth drops and he leans over to shove Gon in the shoulder. “Asshole!”

“You have to realize that’s like me asking you if I’m your best friend or Ikalgo.”

“...Okay, touché,” Killua says after a few seconds, followed up by his stomach rumbling. “I’m gonna be honest, all I had for lunch was a handful of Ikalgo’s fries. You want to order food?”

“How about I make food and we watch last night’s game?” Gon asks, looking hopeful at Killua. After being met with an exceptionally unenthused face, he puffs out his bottom lip and pleads. “Pleeeeaaase? I’ll make whatever you want, seriously.”

Killua throws his head back onto the couch. “I want chicken tacos and I want to skip the commercials.”

Gon groans. “Fine,” he says as he gets up, “but I’m serious, we’re looking closely at the pitches, and goddamn it, you’re learning something from them.”

“Throw in some guac and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

Chapter Text

“Are you sure your aunt doesn’t care about having two people she’s never met before crash for Christmas break?” Killua asks as he drops his duffel into the trunk of Gon’s car. “I mean, does she even know we’re coming, or are you just showing up with us in tow?”

Gon laughs as he walks back out of his apartment, laundry bag in hand, and heads down to the driveway. “She knows who you are, she knows that you’re coming, and she’s super excited, I promise. It’s usually just us two, anyway; I’m sure she’s getting sick of seeing me and only me for weeks on end.”

“Aw, Gon,” Alluka starts, handing Killua her own bag to pack away, “I’m sure she loves being able to see you. But I’m so excited to meet her! Killua says you told him that she loves to bake?”

“Oh god, yeah. I wouldn’t be surprised if she has a whole spread waiting for us when we get there.”

Killua shuts the trunk door, a bit harder than he intended to, and can feel himself salivating at the mere thought of it already. “Then what the hell are we waiting for? Let’s move out, people!”

Alluka and Gon share a glance and laugh while Killua ignores them and walks to the side of the car. “By the way,” he adds, hand on the passenger door handle, “shotgun!”

“You jerk!” Alluka shouts, running to the same door, but Killua’s already hopped in and locked it before she has the chance to get there. He mouths a ‘sorry’ and throws his hands up in a guiltless shrug through the window; Alluka sighs dramatically and heads to the rear passenger door.

“It’s fine,” Gon says, getting into the driver’s seat. He adjusts his mirrors and starts the car, letting it heat up before driving. “It’s only a twenty-ish minute drive. Besides, Alluka, you and me can go on our own drives and leave Killua at home whenever.”

“Are you hitting on my sister?” Killua asks, faux-accusingly, a playful tone to his voice. “Right in front of me? I’ll kill you in this car.”

“You’ll also be killing yourself in this car, seeing as how I’m the one driving it.”

“You are so stupid, brother,” Alluka adds from the back.

Killua leans back against the headrest and shuts his eyes. “All I’m hearing are excuses and deflections. Now, the real question is, between the two of you, whose best man will I be?”

“Not mine,” Alluka and Gon say in unison.

“Fucking jerks, the both of you.”

The two accused laugh and Gon throws his arm behind Killua’s headrest to look behind them and back out of the driveway. Killua tilts his head and peeks with his left eye, having felt the movement, and quickly closes it again, taking in a deep and silent breath.

Killua and Gon’s tutoring sessions had gotten to the stage where Gon was dragging Killua to the gym with him for customized workouts, and every time, Killua remembered both why he never went to the gym (it fucking sucks) and why he kept going to the gym with Gon (it fucking rocks). Even in the cold of the approaching winter, Gon refused to work out in anything but a muscle tank top and a pair of shorts.

In unrelated news, during these sessions, Killua learned that he had a thing for arms.

Their workouts had consisted of mostly arm and mobility exercises for Killua to strengthen his arms and core for balance on the mound. Every Sunday, before Killua’s shift, they did hot yoga and stretching; the first time that they did, Killua unintentionally announced that he thought he was going to pass out. Externally, he clarified that it was due to the heat and his lacking flexibility. Internally, he took several mental images of Gon covered in sweat and in various deep stretches.

Every Sunday, before his shift, Killua took a cold shower.

Killua had drunkenly made the mistake of sharing this dilemma, this set of observations, with Palm and Ikalgo one Friday night, and all they could do was laugh, as expected. Palm had asked when he started developing feelings for Gon and Ikalgo had asked why he hadn’t yet asked Gon to join him in one of their after-session cold showers, prompting Killua to throw an empty cider can at him.

Killua had replied that he didn’t like Gon, reasoning that you couldn’t develop feelings for somebody in this short of an amount of time, obviously. The real issue and reason for why he was bringing this up, he argued, was because he needed Palm and Ikalgo’s help in figuring out how to deal with thinking that one of your best friends is inexplicably the hottest person you have ever seen in your entire life.

After ignoring Ikalgo’s whining about why Killua never had this issue with him, Palm pressed Killua on whether or not that was really it, to which Killua had responded, “Jesus Christ, Palm, yes. I’ve never once wanted to take Gon out to dinner, but let me tell you, I have wanted to take him back to my apartment and tell Alluka not to come home for four hours.”

Palm suggested he try and keep his distance; when Killua argued that that wasn’t possible, Palm had responded, “Guess you’re fucked, then. Best I can do is suggest you just keep it in your pants and find some other way - or person - to relieve some of your frustration.”

Killua wasn’t interested - nor was he even remotely chill enough - to go find somebody else, so he went with the method he knew best when faced with a challenge: He ignored it until it was unignorable.

So far, it was still ignorable, save for the few (many) trying moments he encountered, so he continued to endure the moments, take his cold showers, think about the moments for a minute too long, turn his showers even colder, and take some deep breaths.

Without a shower in sight, deep breaths were going to have to be good enough during the rest of this car ride.

“You tired?” Gon says as they’re driving through the streets of Yorknew. “Was a noon departure time too early for ya?”

Killua groans. “I had to get up early to pack the rest of my shit.” He had packed everything yesterday and slept until ten AM this morning. “Some of us had to do our laundry yesterday, you know.”

Gon laughs and moves his right hand from the steering wheel to shift gears as they come to a red light. “I told you, Aunt Mito would’ve done your laundry.”

“Oh yeah, that’s real nice. ‘Hey, Mito, nice to meet you. Thanks for letting us crash your family holiday! By the way, can you make sure to separate my lights from my darks?’”

“Laundry is basically her love language.”

Alluka chimes in, asking, “I thought it was baking?”

Gon thinks for a few seconds, shifting gears as the light turns green. “Maybe her love language is just being a mother figure, then.”

The three of them laugh until Killua changes the subject. “When did you learn how to drive stick?”

Gon’s hand continues to rest on the gearshift and Killua pries his eyes away to look ahead. “Kite taught me! Aunt Mito taught me how to drive, but for my eighteenth birthday, his gift to me was this car and teaching me how to drive manual. Honestly, it’s probably better this way, anyway; I used to mentally go on autopilot whenever I would drive for more than, like, ten minutes, so it keeps me more engaged.”

“Oh, good,” Killua replies, “that makes me feel safe.”

Gon chuckles and grabs his sunglasses from the compartment just in front of the rearview mirror, flicking them open and sliding them on with his right hand. “That was, like, four years ago, and also, I just said stick keeps me engaged.”

“Brother, you’re so dramatic,” Alluka says. “Just let him drive.”

“Yeah, just let me drive.” Gon grins and Killua looks over at him.

Big mistake.

The combination of his hand back firmly on the gearshift, his grip on the steering wheel, his side profile with whisps of ebony hair framing his face, and the newly-added sunglasses send Killua into an immediate panic. So, he does what he has to do: Digs his nails into his palm under the sleeve of his jacket and turns to look out the passenger window.

“You can do whatever you want.”

Please.

—

The rest of the drive passes relatively quickly, and upon arrival at the house, Gon’s prediction was accurate: Mito had prepared enough pastries to feed a small town - or a hungry Killua, as it turned out.

Mito had shown them to their rooms; Alluka, to the guest room downstairs next to Mito’s room, and Killua, to Gon’s room upstairs, where the futon had already been made up with fresh sheets and pillows.

Of course.

Most of the day was spent meeting, greeting, and catching up with Mito, but thankfully, the question of why Alluka and Killua were joining them for Christmas break never came up.

After Gon returned from the few days off from classes for Thanksgiving, he had asked how Killua’s Thanksgiving at home was, to which Killua had to admit that they actually spent it at the apartment.

“No way, why?” Gon had asked, genuinely and visibly perplexed. “I mean, I know you’ve said your family kind of sucks, but I didn’t think they were the ‘not going home for the holidays’ kind of sucks.” Killua had answered vaguely, saying that their values didn’t quite align and there was a lot of history and drama behind it, so he nor Alluka had any interest in seeing them.

To which Gon had persistently suggested that they come home with him for Christmas so that they didn’t spend two entire weeks by themselves around the holidays. Killua could immediately tell that there was no reasonable way he was getting out of it, so he graciously accepted, ran it by Alluka, and that had been that.

Now, after having just finished dinner, Mito and Alluka are on the couch downstairs watching a chick-flick while Gon and Killua, having opted out of movie night, are up in Gon’s room drinking and playing cards.

More specifically, they’re both four hard seltzers in and shuffling the cards for their next drinking game.

“What do you mean you’ve never played ‘King’s Cup’?” asks Killua, legitimately astonished. “This is, like, the drinking card game.”

“Too many rules,” Gon says, fumbling the cards in his hand and watching some fall to the ground. “‘Never Have I Ever’ is the easiest drinking game. You’ve done it, you drink. You haven’t done it, you don’t drink. You choose not to answer, you take a shot for being such a pussy.”

Killua scoffs, a smile on his face. “Not everyone is as shameless as you are. Some of us would rather not share stories about every single thing we’ve done.”

“Or the things you haven’t done,” Gon replies, playfully narrowing his eyes at Killua. “Which, I reiterate, makes you a pussy.”

“Just say you’re a nosy little shit and get over it.”

Gon laughs out loud at this and hands the messy deck of semi-shuffled cards to Killua to set up for the game. “Whatever. Some of us have no shame and want everyone to know how fucking cool we are. How am I gonna achieve that with this game?”

Killua spreads out the cards in a circle and leaves an empty spot in the middle, placing an unopened seltzer can in the opening. “Okay, so, every card has a different rule. Most of them rhyme, so they’re easy to remember. Some of them really only make sense with a group of people playing, so we can change those if you want. I’ll run through them quickly and if you have questions, now or during the game, you can ask. Deal?” Gon nods.

“Okay, so, in order, they go: Two, you, as in you drink; three, me, so I drink; four, floor, so you point to the floor and the slower one drinks; five, guys, a.k.a. we both drink; six, chicks…” Killua pauses, giggling to himself. “We have no girls here, so I guess we can just make it guys again. Anyways, seven is heaven, so same as four, except you point to the sky. Eight is mate, which is when you designate someone as your mate, meaning whenever you have to drink, they have to drink, but that’s one that probably won’t work for just the two of us.”

“Why not?” Gon interrupts, pouting. “Maybe I want you to be my mate.” Killua looks at him blankly and Gon winks in return.

“You’re an idiot,” Killua replies, ignoring the flush he can feel rising up onto his cheeks. “We can use the eight cards as more cards for us to just take a drink together, okay?” Gon sighs loudly, dramatically, and nods again. “Cool, now let me finish. As I was saying, next we have nine, which is rhyme, so I would say a word, maybe ‘duck’, and you’d have to say a word within, like, three seconds that rhymes with it, and then I’d have to do it, and so on, until one of us can’t get a word.”

“Fuck!”

Killua looks up from his drink at Gon. “What happened?”

Gon looks at him, confused. “You said ‘duck’. Fuck rhymes with duck.”

Killua just blinks at him a few times. “Anyways,” he continues, “ten is categories. Just like nine in the sense of how the round is played, but instead of rhyming, whoever pulls the card has to come up with a category, and then we go back and forth naming things that are part of that category. Now we get into the face cards. Jack will probably be your favorite card since it’s ‘Never Have I Ever.’”

Killua pauses to take a sip of his seltzer and sees Gon excitedly looking at him, so he adds, “And just for you, we can do those in sets of five instead of three. So, first person to have done five of the things the other person says, a.k.a. the first one who puts five fingers down, would have to drink. Queen is next, and that’s for questions, so if I pull a Queen, you can ask me three questions and I can either answer them or drink. If I answer each one, then you have to drink. King means we both drink, and finally, Ace is for making up a rule for a period of time. So, like, you could pull the Ace and say that, until the next Ace is drawn, the rule is that if one of us curses, we have to drink. Does that all make sense?”

Gon nods slowly at him. “You know what, maybe I have played this before, because these all sound really familiar. I think we should just keep the rules as is, except for the change for eight since you apparently hate me so much.”

Killua laughs. “Works for me. I’ll start.” He goes to pull a card and notices the can in the middle of the circle. “Oh, shit, I almost forgot. Every time you pull a card, after it’s been played, you put the card under the tab of the can. Whoever pops the tab has to chug the drink, and then we replace the can. Also, every time you pull a card, try not to break the circle. If you do, you drink.”

“Am I gonna be blasted by the end of this?” Gon asks, cautiously eyeing Killua. Killua can only flash a devilish smile in return.

“Hopefully.”

—

“There’s no way you fucking pick the word ‘orange’ for your rhyme,” Killua says, already accepting his fate and reaching for a sip of his fifth (sixth?) seltzer. “That’s, like, an unspoken rule of this card.”

Gon laughs as he crisscrosses his legs. “I only have the rules you gave me, so if this is anyone’s fault, it’s yours.”

Killua rolls his eyes and reaches for another card. “Whatever, you giant jackass.”

“You made fun of me! Drink!”

“You’re a baby for making that your rule. I’ll take another drink for that one, don’t worry.”

They’re about forty minutes into the game and have only gone through about half the deck as they keep getting sidetracked on rule technicalities, funny stories, and Gon’s incessant complaining about the fact that they have yet to pull any of the “fun cards”, re: Jacks and Queens.

Killua, after pausing to take his curse-related sip, resumes pulling his next card, and upon flipping it up to reveal what it was, he groans. “Goddamn it.”

Gon peers over to see for himself. “Finally, a good one!” He puts his free hand up with all five fingers extended, with an excited smile on his face as Killua begrudgingly does the same, an unenthused look on his own.

“This sucks,” Killua complains. “I’m so bad at coming up with things I haven’t done.”

“Didn’t know I was in the same room as a god among men,” Gon jeers at him, clearly enjoying himself. “I’ve gotta be honest, I thought you’d be kind of a prude.”

Killua’s eyes blow wide and he feels the tips of his ears turning pink. “Wha-, what? What says that I am? Or that I’m not?”

Gon shrugs. “Well if you’re having a hard time coming up with something you haven’t done, that must mean you’ve done soooo much.”

“That, ugh,” Killua continue to stutter. “That doesn’t mean it’s all about- about sex! I could say that I’d never been, like, in the ocean or something.”

Gon raises his eyebrows. “Is that what you’re using?”

Killua stares at him for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. Sure. Never have I ever gone swimming in the ocean.” Gon puts a finger down. “Great. Your turn.”

“How have you never been swimming in the ocean?”

“No follow-up questions.”

“Come on!”

Killua throws his head back and stares up at the ceiling. “Fine. But only for this one. I…” He sighs loudly, bringing his head back down and staring at the can in the center of the circle. “I don’t know how to swim, okay?” He looks up at Gon who’s now pouting at him like he’s a lost, forgotten puppy at the pound. “No pity. I don’t need to go into the water. We have airplanes. No more questions. Your turn.”

“You’re no fun,” Gon complains. “Fine. Never have I ever had a girlfriend.” He looks up at Killua and quickly amends his statement. “Uh, or a boyfriend.”

Killua snorts and puts a finger down. “You didn’t have to amend your statement to get me.”

Gon furrows his eyebrows at Killua. “I, um.” He spends a few seconds searching for his words. “Sorry, I don’t know how else to phrase this, but I thought you were gay.”

This makes Killua laugh; the drinks in his system make him laugh harder than necessary. “I am and you already knew that. Palm and I dated for, like, three weeks in high school because we thought, ‘Oh, yeah, we’re best friends, we’re probably in love.’ Wrong.” He looks at Gon who’s simply nodding back at him. “You’ve never had a girlfriend?”

“Or a boyfriend!”

Killua rolls his eyes and smiles. “Big surprise there.”

Gon cocks his head to the side. “Huh?”

“Obviously you haven’t had a boyfriend. You added that part for me.”

“I mean, I added it for you, yeah, because I was the one saying it to get you to put a finger down. But it’s not like it couldn’t apply to me.”

Killua blinks back at him a few times, processing. “You’re straight.”

Gon narrows his eyes at Killua, mouth agape in amusement. “I am? Good to know, thanks, I’ll make note of that.”

Killua’s confused. “I’m confused.”

“So am I. You think I’m straight?”

“You’re not straight?”

“When have I ever indicated to you that I’m straight?” Gon scrunches his nose. “I think your compulsive heterosexuality is showing.”

Killua feels alarms blaring in his head, whistles going off in his ears, and jackhammers pounding in his chest. “I…” All he can do is stare at Gon as he tries to find his words, but he just ends up repeating himself. “So, you’re not straight?”

Gon smiles, his goddamn right dimple making an appearance. “No, and I thought you knew this. I mean, I try to be pretty, uh, open with my language when it comes to the topic. You ever notice how I say ‘people’ instead of ‘girls’ or whatever?”

Killua can feel that his face is visibly in a state of shock and registers, vaguely, that maybe this isn’t the best way to react to someone coming out, but his brain is close to shortcircuiting, so there’s only so much he can do.

“Sorry,” he finally says, noticing that Gon’s just staring back at him, waiting for him to say literally anything. “No, yeah, that’s on me, I did kind of just assume. So you’re, uh, what? Bi?”

Gon shrugs and looks at the can in his hand. “I guess? I’m not really into labels like that. I kind of just…” he trails off and reconnects his gaze with Killua’s, direct and unwavering. “Like who I like. You know?”

Killua swallows heavily. “Got it.”

The two of them keep eye contact for several seconds and Killua feels the air in the room getting thicker. He notices a smirk planting itself on Gon’s face, so he clears his throat and asks, in a higher voice than he intended, “What?”

Gon seems to overcorrect by responding in a lower-than-average voice of his own. “It’s your turn.”

Killua’s glance drops down to his free hand, and then to Gon’s, noticing that they’ve both been keeping their “Never Have I Ever” fingers in place this entire time.

However, he thinks he’s going to implode, so he decides that they’re moving on.

“House rules, this is impossible to do with two people without taking forever, so we’re only doing one turn each whenever we pull a Jack card.”

Gon’s jaw drops. “No fucking fair! And this is my house!”

“Fine, then game organizer’s rules. I’ll use it as my one executive decision for the night. You can have one of your own.”

Gon can only whine in response. “Ugh, Killua! You really are no fun.”

“Sounds like me. Now you pick a card.”

Gon mutters some more complaints as he grabs a card of his own from the circle and flips it up. He immediately looks up at Killua with a wicked look on his face, showing the card to Killua.

Queen.

“What’s with the look?” Killua asks. “You excited for me to ask you questions or something?”

Gon frowns at him. “What do you mean? I pulled the Queen.”

“Yeah, so I get to ask you three questions, and you can either answer them or drink.”

“This game sucks.” Gon returns to pouting and Killua returns to rolling his eyes.

“You’re so dramatic. Now let me think of some good questions…” Killua taps a finger in the middle of his lips once, twice, three times before his eyes light up and he points at Gon. “Got it. This has been bugging me for months.”

Gon eyes him carefully. “I’m nervous.”

“It’s nothing exciting,” Killua clarifies, waving his hand. “I just hate not being in the know. Question one, why did Zushi call you an all-star? At Alluka’s party? Do you remember that?”

Gon opens his mouth to say something but is instead immediately interrupted by his own laughter. 

Loud, prolonged, raucous laughter.

“The fuck is so funny?” Killua asks, confused to the point of irritation.

“I just,” Gon starts, getting out words between laughs. “I cannot believe you wasted a question on that. You could’ve asked me that at literally any point in time.” He wipes a tear away from his eye that had fallen.

Killua narrows his eyes at Gon. “Maybe I just don’t care about anything else as much as I care about this.”

“And if I drink to avoid the question?”

“I’ll murder you right here in your own bedroom.”

Gon laughs again and shakes his head. “You’re a crazy person.”

“Thank you. Now answer me. All-star. What’s that all about? Just a funny nickname?”

“I wish,” Gon replies, taking a sip of his drink. “No. I won some divisional all-star award last year on the team. I was one of a few hundred kids to get nominated across the country for ‘excellence in sport’ or whatever, and I won. That’s it.”

Killua eyes him, dumbfounded. “‘That’s it’? That’s huge! Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?”

“I don’t want to feel like I’m bragging,” Gon replies. “Like, sure, I’m proud of it, I guess, but I don’t need to go around telling people about it. The only reason Zushi knows, I’m sure, is because YC put it on their website, and that was embarrassing as fuck. My aunt printed it and has it stuck up on the fridge downstairs.”

“That’s so goddamn cute and I’ll need to ask her for a copy.”

“You better not.”

“Anyways, next question. Coke or Pepsi?”

Gon looks at Killua in disbelief. “What the hell are these questions?”

“A man needs to know.”

“Neither, then. I don’t like soda.”

Killua gives Gon a look of disgust. “Alright, mister all-star award-winning athlete, sorry that soda is beneath you. Soda is one of my weaknesses.” He starts to brainstorm for question three and wills the functional part of his brain to win out over the dysfunctional and highly-inebriated part of his brain that’s begging him to ask, “You want to share your bed tonight even though you evidently have terrible taste in beverages but I think I can look past that?”.

His brainstorming is short-lived once Gon replies, chuckling, “Sorry to disappoint, Killua.”

Got it.

Before he can stop himself, Killua asks, “Question three, why haven’t you called me Kil in, like, months?”

Gon’s cheeks flush and Killua notices him fix his gaze somewhere else. “You’re still hung up on this?”

“I’m still hung up on this.”

As quickly as Gon blushes, so too does he bounce back and try to turn it around on Killua. “Why, did you like me calling you Kil?”

Killua narrows his eyes for the nth time tonight. “Not the point.”

Gon holds eye contact, daring Killua to break first, but ultimately does so himself. “We had been friends for, like, three weeks at that point, and I didn’t want you to think that I was being weird or rude or something. Or that I was hitting on you.”

Killua juts his bottom lip out. “You weren’t hitting on me?”

Gon doesn’t take the bait and smiles back at him instead. “You’re out of questions. Maybe next time.”

Killua ignores the flip in his abdomen and instead reaches for a card. “You’re lucky. My turn.” He pulls a card and flips it over.

“For fuck’s sake,” he mumbles and finishes the rest of his current drink, tossing the empty can to the side and going to crack open his sixth (seventh?). He turns the card between two fingers to show Gon before jamming it into the pile under the can tab. “Whatever. Queen again. Go.”

Gon’s got a look on his face that can only suggest that he’s got a plan Killua wants no part in. “Great. Executive decision, you need to answer all three of my questions and you can’t drink your way out of them.”

Killua’s mouth falls open and he feels his stomach drop. This cannot possibly end well for him.

“You are a demon.”

Gon can only flash him a bright smile in response. “Thank you. Anyways, question one. Why are you here for Christmas?”

Killua’s not sure if the alcohol is rendering him unable to understand the English language or if Gon is just this stupid. “You invited me. What kind of a question is that?”

“No, no, no, you misunderstand,” Gon says. “I meant, like, why didn’t you and Alluka go home to your own house? Specifically why? I want some details.”

Ah.

Shit.

“Seriously?” Killua asks. “That’s boring.”

“Well, if it is, then I wasted a question and it sucks to be me.”

Killua sighs. He figures that it probably is the least he can do as thanks to Gon for letting him and Alluka crash their holiday.

“Fine, but the full story is long, so get another drink.” Gon obliges and cracks it open, and Killua sucks in a breath.

“So, last year, right after Alluka had started at YC, she met this girl Nanika. Nanika was a senior at the time and they met at some frat party. I don’t exactly know the details, but one thing led to another, and they started dating, like, the week after. I was already really fucking annoyed because no senior realistically has anything in common with a freshman and it skeeves me the fuck out, but I gave her the benefit of the doubt, figuring that Alluka has good judgment and that she’s probably fine. Spoiler alert: She was an absolute nightmare.

“Nanika turned Alluka into, like, a shell of herself. Turned her against her roommates and best friends at the time, got her to drop out of sorority recruitment which, for some reason, she was really excited about, and convinced Alluka to start skipping classes. Alluka was spending every single second with her.” Killua starts to fiddle with the hem of his shirt and willing himself to stay calm. “Basically, Nanika took over her life. Until she tried to convince Alluka that I was somehow the newest person who should hit the chopping block. Which, by the way, came up because I had told Alluka that Ikalgo was moving out of my apartment to move into the Eta Chi Eta house and that she could move in with me if she wanted to. Nanika told her that I was actually trying to manipulate and turn Alluka away from her. Which, that second part wouldn’t have been so bad, but wasn’t quite the point.”

Killua pauses, looking up from his laser focus on his fidgeting hand, to glimpse at Gon, who’s paying unwavering attention to him. He takes a sip before he continues.

“Anyways, Alluka called bullshit on this and, apparently, smacked Nanika across the face before grabbing her shit from Nanika’s apartment and leaving.”

Gon’s mouth falls agape into an open smile. “No fucking way. She hit her?”

“I know,” Killua says, “hard to believe. That’s, like, the only time she’s ever done anything even remotely violent. For sure called for, though.”

“Obviously.”

“So, okay, great, toxic relationship aside, why does that matter?” Killua starts kneading his shirt between the pads of his fingers even harder. “Our older brother, Illumi, is the biggest piece of shit. Ever. I’m not kidding. As part of living up to that title, he likes to drop by campus and just, like, keep tabs on us and report back to our parents or whatever the fuck. It’s really fucking weird. At some point, he clearly must have found out about Alluka and Nanika, because next thing you know, a week before we’re supposed to go home for Christmas last year, my parents call her and tell her she’s never allowed home again, they want nothing to do with her, they’re cutting her off, all this bullshit.”

“What?” Gon asks, visibly perplexed. “Why?” Killua has a fleeting thought about how cute it is that Gon presumably grew up in a loving, accepting household, so of course he has no idea why this would have happened.

“Because they’re homophobic. That’s literally it.”

Gon cocks his head to the side. “Not for nothing, but, uh, do they know you’re gay?”

“Yeah, right,” Killua replies sardonically. “I mean, even if they did know, I can almost guarantee you they wouldn’t do the same shit to me, because for some reason, they all treat Alluka like shit, but act like I’m some gift to the earth or whatever.” He lets out a dry laugh. “And I’m not just saying that looking for sympathy or like I’m dissing myself or anything, I’m just saying, it’s fucked. Forget the fact Alluka was, like, emotionally abused, and maybe our family would give a shit about that, but no. Be a girl and date a girl, get disowned.” Killua takes in another deep breath, feeling his heart rate rising, trying to steady his emotions.

“You don’t have to keep telling me,” Gon says, prompting Killua to open his eyes, not actually having realized he ever screwed them shut. “I don’t want to make you feel worse or anything.”

Killua shakes his head and swallows. “It’s fine.” He pauses and catches Gon’s eyes. “I, uh. I want to tell you, I guess.” Gon grins at him, so he adds, “But don’t get a big head about it.”

Gon laughs. “Me? Never.” 

Killua smiles. “So, okay, it’s right before Christmas break, and Alluka finds out she can’t go home, and on top of that, after the spring semester, she’s on her own for tuition. Ikalgo was going home for the holidays, so he let Alluka stay in his room over break, and I didn’t go home either, because, after that, why the fuck would I? To summarize another long story, I figured out a way to shift my classes and take extra ones over the summer to be able to graduate early. I also picked up a job at the bookstore on top of my internship and my summer classes, and during the school year, to make extra money. Almost all of it’s going towards any of Alluka’s tuition that her scholarships don’t cover. And, hopefully, once I graduate early, I can start making way more money and more easily pay for her classes and the apartment and stuff.”

Gon, always one to focus on the important pieces, asks, “And in the middle of all that, you forgot about your gym requirements?”

Killua scoffs and looks away. “Yeah, evidently, I did. So now I’m stuck with you.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m glad you’re stuck with me.”

The pang hits Killua in his chest instead of his gut this time around and, for a brief second, he thinks he’s having a stroke.

He ignores the follow-up second in which the thought occurs to him that, no, it’s potentially worse than a stroke.

“Me too,” he replies meekly. The two sit in silence for a few moments, broken only by the sounds of sips from their cans, before Killua speaks back up. “Okay, now that you’ve brought the mood down, you can pick a card.”

“Nuh-uh,” Gon says, eyeing him. “That was only my first question.”

“I was hoping you had forgotten,” Killua says, scratching his cheek.

“You wish.”

Correct.

“Fine. Are the rest of the questions as depressing as the first?”

There’s that look in Gon’s eyes again. “I wouldn’t say so.” He peels off his sweatshirt, revealing a boxy, black tee with obnoxiously tight sleeves (or maybe that’s just because of his stupid fucking arms), and tosses it next to him on the floor.

Killua decides he needs another gulp of his drink before he hears the next question, already knowing it’s going to be something he’s not going to like.

“Have you ever kissed anyone?”

Not what Killua was expecting.

“That’s a boring question,” he responds. “You could’ve asked me way more than that. Yes, I have.”

“Who?”

Killua glances up at him. “Is that your third question?”

“No, this is a two-part question,” Gon replies coolly.

“Two-part question my ass,” Killua says, “but I’ll allow it. Palm, in high school, but not while we were dating, if you can even call it that. We didn’t want to go to college without knowing how to or whatever, so one day we tried to with each other, and it was terrible.”

Gon snorts. “Because she wasn’t a guy?”

“Dumbass,” Killua laughs. “No. I mean, sure, that would’ve helped, but it was just so awkward. Trying to learn how to kiss with another person who’s also trying to learn how to kiss? It was so weird. She didn’t respond to my texts for, like, three days. Anyways, that’s the only time. Also, tongues are disgusting.”

Gon’s jaw drops. “You’re kidding.”

“About?”

“Well, I guess two things. One, that you technically haven’t really had your first kiss, and two, that you’re anti-tongue.”

Killua grimaces. “Ew. Of course I’m anti-tongue. How is anyone pro-tongue? At most, I’ll accept neutral-to-tongue. Also, rude, that counts as a first kiss.”

Gon shakes his head, chuckling. “It definitely doesn’t count as a real kiss. And the tongue is, like, the best part.”

Killua shivers and sticks his tongue out. “I’m going to throw up. That is disgusting.”

“You just haven’t done it with the right person,” Gon says, an unreadable look on his face. “You’d like it.”

Killua decidedly does not make eye contact with Gon when he replies, “Good to know, I’ll add it to my bucket list to swap spit with a hot guy. What’s your third question?”

Gon cocks his head and smiles deviously. “That’s actually a perfect lead-in to my third question. Do you think I’m hot?”

Killua’s ears are ringing and his face is on fire and he can feel his heart slamming against his ribcage. “Excuse me?”

Gon raises his eyebrows. “What?”

“What the fuck kind of question is that?”

“Just wondering,” Gon shrugs. “Sometimes a guy needs a reality check - or an ego boost, ya know?”

Killua scoffs again. “You’re fucking deranged.”

“Do you want me to answer first? I’ll give you a freebie.”

“I don’t care if you think you’re hot or not. Tell it to your therapist.”

“I didn’t mean I would answer about me,” Gon says, his eyes pointedly and intently focused on Killua. “I meant I would answer about you.”

Killua thinks the better question would now be to ask how hot he himself is. In terms of body temperature. Because he’s sure the answer is fever-grade.

“And, and,” Killua sputters out, “why would I care?”

Gon smiles sweetly. “Maybe you don’t. Just offering it up to make you more comfortable, since, ya know, you can’t not answer, and you seem like you’re freaking out a little bit.”

Killua’s right eye twitches at him. “I’m not freaking out.”

“Then answer the question. It’s just a simple yes or no.”

If only it were simple.

Killua takes a look at how much he’s got left of his drink and figures he can down it in one go. “If I answer you, can we just go to bed after? I’m exhausted.”

“Fine by me.” Gon’s stare is unrelenting and the impish look in his eyes is unyielding.

Staring at the can in his hand, Killua takes a deep breath. “Fine. Yes. Annoyingly so, sometimes, actually.” He takes the final gulp from his seltzer and gets up from the floor. “I’m going to brush my teeth.” He grabs his toothbrush from his bag and heads out of Gon’s room towards the bathroom, avoiding even a peripheral glance at Gon the entire time.

Once Killua’s in the bathroom, he shuts the door, flicks on the light, and stares at himself in the mirror, not for the first time due to being drunk, or being in the same room as Gon, or being drunk in the same room as Gon. He brushes his teeth, uses the bathroom, quickly washes his face, and changes into pajamas. The house is hotter than he expected - he should have anticipated that an adult with a real salary would actually keep their heat on a normal temperature - so he’s forced to peel off his pajama pants and don just a YC Baseball t-shirt and black boxers to sleep.

He gives himself one last glance in the vanity mirror before heading back into Gon’s room, where he finds Gon sitting in the exact same position as where he left him.

“Uh,” Killua starts, “bathroom’s all yours.” Gon blinks a few times and jolts, as if he had zoned out, and nods.

“Oh, cool, thanks.” He pulls his discarded sweatshirt into his lap before getting up and heading to the bathroom. Killua gathers the cards and shoves them back into their box before tossing the deck back into his bag and lying down on the futon. He lies there on top of the blankets, staring up at the ceiling, his hands interlocked between his head and the pillow, with one thought running through his mind: What the fuck just happened?

Killua’s not sure how long Gon spends in the bathroom, but he knows he’s pulled back into consciousness when he hears the bedroom door close. He opens his eyes just after Gon turns the bedroom light off and is getting into his own bed, thanking any and all gods that might exist that he wasn’t able to see what Gon’s wearing as pajamas.

He lays there, eyes back open, for a few minutes in silence before Gon surprises him by speaking.

“You are too. Especially the part about it being annoying.”

Killua doesn’t have to ask what he means. Instead, he laughs to himself, closes his eyes, and murmurs back, “Glad we got that sorted out.”

Chapter Text

“Gon, it’s not happening.”

“It’s gonna happen. Every single time, actually.”

“Why can’t you just use your words and tell me what to do?”

Gon gives him a tired look. “There’s this little thing called secrecy, a.k.a., we don’t really want the hitter to know what you’re throwing, so we need to use these hand signs.”

Killua throws his hands in the air, exasperated. “Who the fuck cares if they know what I’m throwing? And why can’t you just use normal hand signs? What’s all this bullshit about certain hand signs not mattering?” Gon pulls his lips to one side, obviously holding in a laugh. “I’m serious! I thought sports were pretty obvious. Get points, win. Don’t get points, lose. I get that there’s strategy, but is this really part of it?”

Gon chuckles and shakes his head. “Yes. It’s a huge part of it. I have signals to give to you to show you what to throw. You can agree or disagree with a nod or a shake until we decide on a pitch. The offense takes signals from its line coach for things like bunting, stealing bases, et cetera. It would be pretty easy to tell what players are planning to do if you just used one obvious signal for any given call, so we need to throw in these bullshit hand signals. The whole point of going over it beforehand is so you know what to pay attention to and what to ignore.”

Killua throws his head back and looks up at the sky. “And why couldn’t we have just talked about this, like, at your apartment or something? It’s forty fucking degrees outside.”

“It’ll be just as cold when we start playing actual games next month. You know how they say to chew gum when you’re studying for an exam and then to chew the same flavor of gum during the actual exam because it’s supposed to help with recall or some shit?” Killua nods skeptically at Gon in response. “I’m hoping this will be similar; like, the temperature, the positioning on the mound, the feel of the uniform, stuff like that.”

“This shit sucks.”

Gon shrugs. “This is your life for the next semester, sorry to say.”

Killua misses the days when he and Gon’s tutoring sessions were spent in a warm conference room, or at least on a baseball field with warm weather. Now, he’s got tight weather gear on under his itchy uniform, a hat messing up his hair, and an annoying, addictive voice telling him that it’s not enough to just throw the ball; no, now he has to understand some far-off form of ancient magic hand signals to be told what to throw in the first place.

It’s the middle of January, only about a week after the start of the second semester, and practices had picked up to be almost daily. Between those and the increased frequency of tutoring sessions, Killua couldn’t seem to get away from Gon.

Not like he wasn’t already mentally there after the holidays, anyway.

Killua had approached the rest of his Christmas break at Mito’s house cautiously; otherwise stated, Killua refused to be in the same room as Gon unless Alluka or Mito were also in there with them for fear of doing something stupid after their night of drinking games and, apparently, confessions.

The topic hadn’t come up since - mostly because Killua hadn’t let there be an opportunity for it to - but Gon was acting like the conversation had never happened while Killua couldn’t stop (over)thinking about it. When they got back from break, their hangouts continued as usual. Killua almost thought he had imagined the entire evening, but the deck of cards in his bag, sticky with alcohol residue, served as a tangible reminder of it.

Now, with the season only a few weeks away, it was crunch time for Killua, and that meant learning a bit more about some in-game logistics, such as taking calls from Gon via hand signals reminiscent of a baby trying to communicate for more food, or wait, no, maybe a clean diaper, or, actually, maybe throwing a tantrum.

“Just go over it one more time,” Killua grumbles, messing with his cap.

“Okay, so the super basics are what you already know. One finger is for a fastball, two fingers are for a curveball, three are for a slider, and four are for a changeup,” Gon starts, extending his fingers along as he speaks. Killua thinks that this would be a whole lot easier if he didn’t have to stare at Gon’s hands extensively at the moment, but it’s the cross he bears. “Right after I show a type of pitch, I’m gonna show you another signal, either one or two fingers, to indicate whether you should aim for an inside pitch or shoot for more on the outside of the strike zone, if I show them to you at all. If I don’t, assume I want it down the middle as best as possible. If I do, I’ll wiggle the second hand sign so you know I’m using that number for positioning, not the type of pitch. I’ll show you, like, two or three times quickly so you have a few chances to see it and decide.”

Killua mentally runs over the numbers, bobbing his head back and forth. “Makes sense. The numbers are easy enough, I guess.”

Gon smiles. “Great. Now I’ll go over the trickier ones again. If I show you only my pointer finger and my pinky finger, I want you to ignore everything I say after that until I show you all five fingers. Shake your head during it, nod, don’t react, it doesn’t really matter, just know that in between those two hand signs, I’m just throwing nonsense signs. Once I show all five fingers, it’s back to normal. Also, remember that any other signals I throw are bullshit and mean nothing; they’re just there to throw off anyone who might be seeing them. Got it?”

“Goooot it,” Killua nods slowly, drawing out his response. “But what about guys on base?”

“Oh, yeah. So, if we have a runner on first, I’ll show you just my thumb if I want you to throw to the first baseman and try to pick them off. I might show it to you by itself, or I might show it to you right after a pitch call, like right after I wiggle my fingers to show you the positioning. In that case, you’re ignoring whatever pitch I just signaled to you, and you’re picking him off.”

“If I agree,” Killua teases. Gon narrows his eyes playfully back.

“Sure,” Gon says, “because your judgment is much better than mine.”

“I’m a fast learner.”

Gon looks him up and down before meeting his eyes again and nodding. Killua thinks he must have something on his uniform. “Right,” Gon says, pulling his helmet back down. “Well, then, let’s test that assertion out, and we’ll be done after.”

Killua can practically feel the warm embrace of his bed just knowing how close they are to being done, but his dreams are crushed at the remembrance of them having practice later today. “I can’t believe you have me practicing twice a day.”

“I can’t believe you’re complaining when you barely have to do half the drills,” Gon retorts over his shoulder, walking back to home plate. “You wanna feel what a real practice is like? Pick up a bat.”

“Not a chance.”

“That’s what I thought.” Gon spins around and goes into a squat behind the plate. “You ready, or are you gonna keep whining?”

Killua shoots him a dry smile. “I’ll do both.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

—

“I will murder you both.”

Ikalgo and Palm share a glance, something Killua notices they’ve been doing a lot lately, and every time it bothers the shit out of him even more than the last. “Okay, maybe not a life-size cutout,” Palm replies, “but maybe just your face on a stick.”

“I’d like to put your head on a stick.”

“Man, let us love you!” Ikalgo says, throwing his head back. “At the very least, you’ve gotta let us bring a poster or something. It’s your first game and the first game of the season. We’ve gotta cheer you on!”

Killua groans. Fridays at Eta Chi Eta are supposed to be a baseball-free zone, but with the season starting just two weekends from now, it seems to be all anyone around him will talk about. He actually misses the days when his friends would just make fun of his attraction to Gon and refuse to actually help him.

“You’re looking to get Killua to let you show him any sort of affection? Good luck.”

Killua turns his head towards the door in a panic.

Fridays were also supposed to be a Gon -free zone more often than not, but apparently, that’s asking too much.

Gon and Zushi stroll into Ikalgo’s room, drinks in hand, and make themselves comfortable in the open seats that are both conveniently on the couch and on either side of Killua.

“You having confidence issues, dude?” Zushi throws an arm around Killua who immediately wishes he would just lose consciousness right then and there. “Performance anxiety, perhaps?”

“Anxiety from lack of performance, maybe,” Palm says, and Killua’s jaw drops at her. “We’re talking about that like an innuendo, right?”

“Be so for real right now. And maybe switch to water,” he says, leaning over and grabbing the drink from her hand, taking a sip for himself.

Palm rolls her eyes and crosses her arms in front of her chest. “You’re a baby.”

“And you’re being a bitch. I’m not in the mood.” Palm’s eyes go wide and Killua can hear the room suck in a collective breath, but he can’t seem to bring himself to care.

“Dude,” Ikalgo jumps in, “relax. She was just kidding.”

“I didn’t ask you. You’re also pissing me off.”

Ikalgo grimaces. “What the fuck did I do?”

“You two are always giving me shit lately and after a certain point, it kinda loses its charm,” Killua replies cooly. “But god forbid I dish it back out because then I’m the one who’s being an asshole.”

“There’s a difference between playfully making jokes and actually insulting me,” Palm says. “That was uncalled for.”

Killua clasps his hand together. “You know what’s uncalled for? You deciding what’s playfully funny and what’s an insult when you’re the one throwing out the names or the jokes at me. Maybe ask me how I feel about it. Or maybe make somebody else the butt of the joke for once. Because, lately, I’m really not in the fucking mood for any of it given the million things I’m stressed out about, and neither of you seem to care about how you’re making me feel.”

“Do you want us to leave?” Zushi asks, peering over at Gon across Killua, sharing uncomfortable glances between themselves.

“No,” Killua replies, standing up and grabbing his bag. “I’m leaving. Wouldn’t want to insult any of you by talking to everyone the exact same way you guys talk to me. See you.” He darts out of the room, out of the house, until he’s down the block and approaching Main Street. It’s here where he feels his hands getting clammy and his breath quickening, and he’s so frustrated at not having control over his own body at times like these that he just wants to scream and lie down until he does.

Instead, he sits on the curb and puts his head in his hands, trying to breathe deeply. He’s at least sure that he isn’t having an actual anxiety attack, just generally feeling overly anxious as a result of his heightened emotions, and knows he just needs to chill for a few minutes alone before he walks back to his apartment, even with it being cold-as-fuck degrees outside.

Which was the plan, until-

“Hey, Kil, you alright?”

Killua moves his head just enough out of his hands for his eyes to see Gon walking up to him.

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this,” Gon says, a small smile on his face. Killua just stares back at him, his hands still half-covering his face. “Like, me walking up to you mid-anxiety attack, I mean. Sorry, bad joke.”

“And you’ve gotta stop calling me by that fucking nickname whenever we do meet like this,” Killua snaps back, finally dropping his arms to his knees and looking the other way. “I mean, is it because you feel bad for me? Are you, like, coddling me by calling me Kil, hoping it’ll calm me down or something? It’s not cool.”

Killua can’t see Gon, but based on the tone of his response, he feels like he can imagine the sad, surprised look on his face. “I, uh, I didn’t know I used it that time. I’m sorry. It’s not that. I guess it just feels, like, a comfort in the moment, you know?”

Killua snorts. “I’m glad it’s comforting to you while I’m the one feeling like I could pass out at any moment.”

“That’s not what I meant. I told you that if you didn’t like it, I’d stop using it-”

“That’s not the fucking point!” Killua exclaims, louder than intended, throwing his hands in the air and turning back towards Gon. If anything, this outburst is both quelling his anxiety and potentially setting him up for another episode later, but he can’t seem to be able to think much beyond the present in times like these. “Never once has it been the point of if I like it or not. The point is that you use it in these situations, and it’s, like, a pet name or something, or like you’re treating me like a fucking baby. I’m a big boy who can handle my fucking episodes on my own; I don’t need to be calmed down by someone who’s biggest source of anxiety is whether or not he’s gonna strike out or not.”

Immediately, as thick silence broken only by the sounds of cars driving by fills the air, Killua realizes he went too far. Way too far. He drops his head back into his hands and sucks in a deep, unsteady breath.

“Fuck, that was, fuck. That wasn’t fair. I’m sorry. That was really fucked up to say and,” he shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair, not even letting himself look over to see if Gon is still there - he wouldn’t blame him if he had just gotten up and left after that comment. “And it’s not even true. I don’t know why I said that. Any of that. I’m really sorry.”

Killua sits there with his eyes closed, his arms back to being wrapped around his knees, and his eyes wet with tears he’s been trying to keep in. His breath is shaky and he can’t tell if it’s from being worked up emotionally or from the bitter night chill.

He feels like he’s sitting there for ages, fully assuming he’s sitting alone and gone and pissed off everyone besides his sister in the span of ten minutes, when he feels a hand on his back, rubbing up and down between his shoulder blades.

They stay like that for a few minutes, Killua steadying his breathing and Gon rubbing his back. It’s comfortable.

It’s also freezing.

“Let me walk you home,” Gon says, finally, settling his hand now at one of Killua’s shoulders. “It’s unbearable out here.”

Killua sniffs and lifts his head up, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “Why would you do that? You live, like, three houses back that way. I can get home by myself.”

“Because I want to.”

“You’re gonna spend even more time in the cold if you do that.”

“Fine,” Gon seemingly concedes. Until he stands, makes eye contact with Killua, and raises his eyebrows. “Late-night tutoring session? Casa de Killua?”

Killua laughs out loud and shakes his head at the ground. “Fine.” Gon reaches out to help Killua up and Killua accepts, grabbing his hand and standing. Gon pulls him and moves just fast enough to where Killua needs to jog the first few steps to try and keep up; unfortunately, this seems to suggest to Gon that he wants to be running, so Gon picks up the pace, and now they’re racing through the streets of Yorknew back to Killua’s apartment.

“Slow down, you psycho!” Killua calls out, still holding onto Gon’s hand, a few paces behind him. “Don’t you make me work out enough?”

Gon laughs out loud and does not slow down, instead evidently deciding to pick up the pace as they reach Killua’s block. “It’s cold! We need to get inside ASAP!”

“Don’t you realize you’ll just need to go back out in the cold when you go home?”

“Not even inviting me to stay? After I’m walking you home? Chivalry is dead.”

“I’d hardly call this walking!”

They laugh as they cut through the parking lot and up the back stairs to Killua’s apartment. Killua shushes Gon with one hand, his free hand, with a warning of “Alluka is probably asleep”, before reaching into his pocket to fish out his keys. He unlocks the door with his free hand. He pushes open the door with his free hand. He sets the security system, shuts off the hall lights, and leads Gon into his bedroom, all with his free hand.

Killua finally lets go of Gon’s hand once they’re inside his room and the door is shut. Upon realizing that they’ve been holding hands for at least the last five minutes straight, he flushes red and wipes his hand on his pants. He removes his jacket and takes Gon’s sweatshirt, tossing them both over his desk chair, before falling backwards onto his bed and having Gon do the same next to him.

They lie there for a minute in silence, catching their breath and staring at the ceiling, before Gon asks the million-dollar question.

“So, were you, like, actually having a fight with them when we came in?”

“No,” Killua sighs, shifting an arm under his head. “I don’t know why I blew up at them. I think I just have a lot of shit going on in my head, more than usual, and they kind of poke fun at me when I bring any of it up. I mean, they don’t actually do it in a mean way - they really do, you know, care about me and help me and stuff - it’s just, sometimes the stuff I bring up is easy to make jokes out of, and it usually actually helps me feel better about it and less uncomfortable about, like, talking about my issues.”

Gon turns his head to look at Killua. “Is one of them actually you having, what did they call it? ‘Performance anxiety’? About the game?”

Killua can’t help but chuckle, shaking his head as he continues to look up. “No, no. I mean, I’m nervous as fuck, but I wouldn’t call it that.” He takes in a breath and exhales loudly. “Honestly? It’s kind of a running joke among the three of us that I’m the virgin of the group. Usually, I also find it funny, cuz who cares, you know? But tonight, it just really bothered me, especially saying it once you and Zushi walked in. I just think I was having a bad night, mentally.”

“Aw, Killua,” Gon says, going to grab Killua’s cheek. “I think I already knew you weren’t exactly a casanova.”

Killua shifts his head away, smiling, and brings up his left hand to flick Gon lightly in the forehead. “Rude. I could be if I wanted to.”

“And you don’t want to because, what? Your time is too consumed by baseball, school, and me?”

“That’s exactly it,” Killua replies, bringing his left arm back down next to him in the bed. “You take up too much of my headspace, how could I possibly have the time for anybody else?”

Gon laughs and nudges Killua’s hand with his fingers. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re the only one holding yourself back. If you wanted to, you know. Have the time for anybody else. In that way.”

Killua raises his eyebrows and turns his head to Gon, faintly aware of the backs of their fingers lightly brushing against each other in the space between them. He gives him a light smile from the side of his mouth. “I’ll keep that in mind, thanks,” he says softly, cementing his pinky finger in place on the bed and feeling Gon do the same, top knuckles to tips of their nails solidly pressing against each other. “But I think I’m good with how my time is currently being spent.”

Gon smiles back, and for a few moments, they’re lying there, looking at each other, a comfortable silence surrounding them. Killua can’t bring himself to pull his hand or his gaze away, and Gon seemingly can’t either. In a small, dark corner of his brain, he’s aware that he should move; get up, look away, do something, but the static racing up his arm from his pinky drowns it out.

The same corner of Gon’s brain doesn’t seem to have been silenced so easily, Killua thinks, as he all of a sudden clears his throat and turns his head back towards the ceiling, keeping his hand in place. “I bet Palm and Ikalgo weren’t actually trying to make fun of you, you know. Zushi does the same shit sometimes. I’ll be complaining about something dumb and he’ll call me an idiot for overthinking things, but then immediately follow it up with actual advice. I think it’s just how they try to help, and most of the time, it actually works.”

“Yeah, I know you’re right,” Killua sighs. “I’ll have to text them tomorrow and apologize. I don’t think I’ve ever called Palm a bitch in my entire life.”

Gon’s grimaces in remembrance as he shifts his head ever so slightly back towards Killua. “Yeah, that’s tough. I was kind of floored when you said that.”

“I think I blacked out when I said it.”

“I think I black out every time I do something even remotely embarrassing.”

Killua narrows his eyes skeptically at Gon. “You? Embarrassing? I’m gonna need proof.”

“I’m sure I embarrass myself in front of you in about twenty percent of our interactions.”

“Do I make you nervous?” Killua says cheekily, wiggling his eyebrows. “It’s part of my charm.”

Gon laughs. “Sure, yeah, well you charmed me into your bed, so I guess it’s working.” He looks ahead at Killua whose face is clearly, visibly heating up, and his eyes go wide. “I, uh, meant, like, on your bed. As a joke. Obviously.”

Between Killua’s burning face at the explicit reminder that, yes, he and Gon are lying on his bed past midnight, and the tingling feeling still racing up his arm from their point of contact, he’s sure he’s going to pass away from over-stimulation. “Right. Obviously.” He sees Gon’s cheeks flushing as well, and a pang hits him right in the chest. Unfortunately for him, he’s not had nearly enough to drink tonight to blame it on the alcohol, so he mentally and fleetingly acknowledges the fact that he’ll have to revisit that at a later date.

The two of them turn their faces back up towards the ceiling, the silence in the room broken only by the sounds of their steadily-deepening breathing. Their hands sit in place, pinkies refusing to separate like magnets of opposing charges, and their legs dangle off the side of the bed.

Neither of them make the conscious decision to fall asleep. The comforts of the space and company wash over them through eyes shutting, breaths shallowing, heartbeats slowing, and fingers grazing.

—

The first thing Killua realizes in the morning is that he somehow fell asleep sideways, half off his bed, and that his back hurts like a bitch because of it.

The second thing Killua realizes in the morning is he somehow fell asleep next to somebody as made evident via the breaths he hears that certainly are not coming from him.

He turns his head slowly to the left, one eye peeked open and fighting through sleep, and sees an all-too-familiar mop of black hair atop a head facing away from him. Gon’s right arm is still in place between the two of them and Killua achieves a new personal record for the earliest time of day he’s ever been reddened in embarrassment as he remembers why his arm is there.

Killua yawns and shifts slowly and silently, leaning over to check the clock on his nightstand for the time: 9:18.

Well, so much for being silent.

“Gon,” he says, gently shaking Gon’s shoulder. “Gon, get up. We have practice.” He’s met with a muffled groan and a lazy smack on the stomach. “Um, ow?”

Gon stirs, rolling over towards Killua and throwing an arm around his lower torso. Killua’s blush deepens further and his breath gets caught in his throat.

“C’mon, Gon,” he forces out, now shaking the arm he’s wrapped in.

Nothing.

Killua closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, mentally accepting that he’s going to miss practice because he’s simply stuck here now. As if hearing his thoughts, Gon shifts, his free arm coming out from under him and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes before, finally, opening them and locking eyes with Killua.

“Oh, fuck,” Gon says, his glance shifting down to his arm, before he rips it away, quickly sitting up and running a hand through his hair, visibly flustered. “I, uh, I am so sorry, I did not mean to fall asleep here.”

Killua gives him a tight, awkward smile, sitting up himself and stretching his arms up in the air. “S’fine,” he mumbles through another yawn. “Not like I planned to sleep halfway off my bed, either. Though I’ve gotta say, I’m really not surprised that you’re a cuddler.”

Gon groans and drops his head into his hands. “Please don’t tell me I was doing that all night.”

He considers toying with Gon a little bit just to see his reaction, but Killua remembers how little time they actually have for that.

“No,” Killua replies, “just, like, right before you woke up. Good thing you weren’t drooling, or I’d have had to take a photo.” He turns his phone around, showing Gon the lock screen with the time. “Also, we’re gonna be late for practice.”

Gon’s eyes go wide. “Shit.” He stands up and looks around for his shoes that he evidently kicked off in the middle of the night. “Uh, okay, I need to go grab my shit from my house…” He pauses to check his breath and grimaces. “And go make myself presentable, Jesus Christ. You wanna grab bagels, swing by my place, and we’ll walk up together?”

“Works for me,” Killua shrugs. “Everything with chive cream cheese?”

“You know me so well,” Gon says, tapping Killua on the nose.

“I’d sure hope so, now that we’ve shared a bed.”

Gon drops his mouth at Killua, feigning shock. “You’ve taken my dignity.”

“If that’s what you’re calling saving you a trip back to your apartment through the arctic tundra, then sure, consider your dignity stolen.”

“Fair enough.” Gon grabs his bag from the ground before opening the door, Killua following him out of the bedroom. Gon looks back at him in the hallway and asks, “Are you… going to practice like that?”

Killua scoffs as they approach the back door. “Rude. No, I’m going to pee.”

“Right,” Gon says, eyeing the bathroom door and stepping to the side. “Okay, see you in a bit.”

“See you.”

Killua slips into the bathroom, flipping on the light and locking the door, before hearing Gon calling from behind it.

“I forgot to grab my sweatshirt from your room,” he says. “I’m gonna get it now.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Killua replies, “wouldn’t want you going in my room uninvited.”

“Ha, ha.”

Killua’s drying his hands as he hears Gon come back out of his room. Moments after he puts his toothbrush in his mouth, he hears both Gon open the back door and the security system immediately go off.

“Fuck,” he mutters through toothpaste, hanging onto the toothbrush between his teeth and unlocking the bathroom door. He swings it open to see Gon turn towards him in a panic, eyes wide and shoulders near his ears.

“I didn’t remember you had a security system,” he says, clearly frazzled.

“Ish fine,” Killua says, pacing over to the alarm on the wall to reset it. Just as he does and the beeping subsides, he exhales.

Until he promptly sucks in a breath as Alluka’s bedroom door swings open and she shuffles out, sleeping mask pulled up to her forehead and hand rubbing one of her eyes.

Gon and Killua share a glance between skittish expressions as Alluka’s vision clears up until she eyes Killua. Then Gon. Then Killua again. Her gaze flits back and forth between the two of them - their disheveled hair and the outfits she saw them in yesterday on campus - before her eyes go wide and her mouth drops into a shocked smile.

“No. Way.”

“Alluha,” Killua says, face hot all over again, “Ish not what it loosh like.”

She suppresses a laugh as she responds, “It looks like you’re brushing your teeth after having a…” She glances back over at Gon, whose eyes haven’t shrunk since her door opened. “Sleepover.”

“Oh my god,” Gon squeaks, face somehow redder than Killua’s, “I need to leave. See you at practice. Bye, Alluka!” He races out the back door, absolutely not helping their case, and Killua groans while he walks over to the kitchen sink to drop his toothbrush and spit out his toothpaste.

“Alluka, I swear to god, nothing happened.”

Alluka cocks her head to the side, visibly still finding this all amusing. “Then, what? He just came over, with you both unrelatedly wearing the same clothes as yesterday, an hour before practice? Just to say hi?”

Killua stares at her for a few seconds with an exasperated look on his face. “Okay, no, he did stay over, but totally accidentally.”

“You accidentally came home together and shared your bed?”

“Oh my god,” Killua whines, running both his hands through his hair and looking away. “We were at Eta Chi Eta, he walked home with me because I was feeling like shit, we went into my room to hang out since you were sleeping, and just fell asleep. That’s it.”

“I’d totally believe you if you hadn’t set the security system.”

“…Yeah, that’s just on me as a force of habit.” Killua’s hands are now behind his head, his forearms on either side of his face covering his beet-red ears. “I swear, I’d tell you if I, like, had a thing with somebody. Not in detail, obviously, but at the very least I wouldn’t lie to you about it.”

Alluka bobs her head back and forth, thinking. “You’re right, I know you wouldn’t.”

Killua sighs. “Thank you.”

“But,” she adds, “don’t try to tell me that you don’t want a thing with somebody. Specifically,” she gestures her head toward the back door, “that somebody.”

Killua feels himself freeze. “What?”

Alluka rolls her eyes and pulls the sleeping mask off of her head while she speaks. “Come on, brother. You’ve been making heart eyes at him since you met.”

“That’s so not true.”

“You’re telling me, at my birthday party, you weren’t fawning over him?”

Killua frowns. “Ew, yes, I am telling you that.”

“Oh, please,” she replies. “Even Zushi asked me if I had noticed how obvious it was that you were all over Gon.”

“One, I was not ‘all over him’, and two, since when do you and Zushi talk?”

Alluka grimaces. “We’re friends too, you know. And, at the very least, you’ve obviously thought he was hot for forever.”

Killua can’t even fake an excuse for that one. “I mean, sure, fine, but it’s not unheard of to think your friends are hot sometimes.”

“Sure,” Alluka shrugs, “I’ll give that to you. But maybe think about if you’ve been feeling a little… on edge around Gon lately, and ask yourself why. That’s all I’m saying.”

Killua blinks a few times at her. “Thanks for that sound relationship advice, Alluka.”

She beams back at him. “I didn’t say anything about a relationship, but you’re definitely welcome.” She spins on the ball of her foot to go back into her room but stops in the doorway and turns back around. “You don’t always need to be so defensive, brother. Or so dense.” She has a soft look on her face as she looks at Killua and gives him a small smile. “Good luck at practice!” she chirps before closing her bedroom door and leaving Killua standing in the living room: Alone, overthinking, pangs in his chest reverberating in his eardrums, and becoming increasingly further behind schedule for getting to practice on time.

—

It’s 7PM on Sunday and Killua’s sitting at his usual booth at the Yorknew Diner waiting, hoping for Palm and Ikalgo to show up. He feels terrible about what he said on Friday and the only communication he’s had with either of them since then was a text from him reading: “usual time on Sunday? please”. They had both given the message a thumbs up, so his confidence in them coming wasn’t totally unfounded.

He’s ordered all of their drinks already - chocolate milk for him, lemon water for Palm, and raspberry seltzer for Ikalgo - and he’s already decided that he’s paying for their dinner. Not that he’s one to believe in buying somebody else’s forgiveness, but, whatever works.

The chime on the door rings; Killua peeks over to see them walking in together and feels a weight being lifted off of his shoulders despite the fact that they haven’t even forgiven him yet, but at least they’re giving him a chance. Palm and Ikalgo slide into the booth across the table from him and he smiles at them timidly, not quite knowing how to start the conversation.

“So,” Palm starts after a sip of her water, “I take it you’re done having your little bitch-fest?”

Killua scoffs, a surprised smile on his face, while Ikalgo snorts mid-sip of his drink. “If that’s what we’re calling it,” Killua says, “then yeah, I am.”

“Good,” she replies, visibly amused. “It was super annoying.”

Shaking his head, Killua laughs and says, “I know. I really am sorry for what I said.” He looks back and forth between Palm and Ikalgo. “To both of you. I think I was just feeling, like, extra shitty that day. I usually don’t care about you guys joking at my expense, because, to be honest, it can be easy to, but I just don’t think I was in a good mental spot for it that night.”

“We’re sorry too,” Ikalgo says, giving Killua a half-smile. “I’m sure I’ve gone too far sometimes.”

“A lot of times,” Palm interjects, “the both of us. If I knew you weren’t having a good night, I would’ve toned it down.”

Killua nods in understanding. “I know you would have. It’s fine.” He takes a sip of his drink before continuing. “Are we good?”

Palm and Ikalgo smile back at him and Palm replies, “We’re good.”

“This went a lot better than I expected,” Killua admits. “I was gonna apologize over text, but I had a whole plan to buy you guys dinner and make, like, a little speech saying sorry.”

Ikalgo snorts. “Can we still hear the speech?”

“More importantly,” Palm says, “can you still pay for dinner?”

Killua roll his eyes with a smile on his face. “You’ve lost the rights to the speech, but dinner is still on me.”

Palm fist bumps Ikalgo as Killua shakes his head at them, amused. “Do you wanna talk about what was up on Friday?”  she asks. “Are you good now?”

“Yeah,” he replies, “I’m good now. I was - am - stressed about the first game coming up, and it didn’t help when Zushi and Gon walked in, especially Gon, because Friday’s, like, our night, you know?” Palm and Ikalgo nod. “And the virgin joke in front of him was, I guess, my tipping point, even though I don’t actually care about that, and he knows, anyway, but. It really could’ve been anything at that point in my mental state, honestly.”

“Whoah, whoah,” Palm says, waving her hand in the air. “What do you mean, ‘he knows, anyway’? We just skating over that?” Killua feels heat rise in his ears and just looks back at her looking absolutely caught.

Ikalgo looks back and forth between them. “I’m lost.”

Killua sits there for a few more seconds, locked in, effectively, a staring contest with Palm, and groans when he breaks first. “You’re killing me.”

“I’ll bring flowers to your funeral,” she replies, unfazed. “Speak.”

Sighing, Killua rests his head to his hand and mumbles, “He asked me over Christmas.” He’s surprised Palm and Ikalgo still have their eyes in place the way they practically pop out of their heads.

“He asked you what?” Palm presses, leaning in. “To fuck?”

Killua’s eyes go wide and he fervently shakes his head back and forth. “No, Jesus, Palm, no!” She looks dejected at this and deflates, sinking back into the booth. “We were playing King’s Cup-”

“Classic,” Ikalgo interrupts.

“-Exactly. So, whatever, I pull a Queen. Earlier in the game I had made the executive decision to change one of the rules and Gon was pissed, so I said he could do the same. So, he decides to make his executive decision that I had to answer all three of his questions and couldn’t drink my way out of them.”

Palm snorts. “That’s fucking perfect for you.” Killua gives her a deadpan look.

“You’re telling me,” he continues. “Here’s what his three questions were. One, why me and Alluka didn’t go home for Christmas, so I had to go into all the Nanika and Illumi bullshit.” Palm fakes a gag and Ikalgo rolls his eyes. “I know. Two, if I’d ever kissed anyone; which, for some goddamn reason, I said something like, ‘you could’ve asked me worse than that’, and then I had to go into how you’re the only person I’ve ever kissed, so, yeah, obviously haven’t made it any further than that.” He pointedly nods at Palm and she pouts lightheartedly at him.

“It’s because no one could possibly compare,” she says, “I get it.”

Killua just gives her a tired look. “Uh-huh. Right.”

“Um,” Ikalgo says, “what was the third question?”

Ugh.

“Why does everyone I know have a perfect fucking memory,” Killua mutters, ignoring the confused looks Palm and Ikalgo give him in response. “Whatever. He asked me if I thought he was hot.” Palm’s jaw drops and Ikalgo chokes on his drink.

“Tell me you lied,” Palm challenges. “Tell me you lied and I’ll laugh my ass off and then call him and tell him myself.”

“I should’ve,” Killua says, “but no. Me, being an idiot, said that he was annoyingly hot. Like, actually used the word annoyingly.” The two across the table just stare at him in pure amusement, their mouths agape and eyebrows nearing their hairlines.

“And?” Ikalgo presses.

“And, what?”

“What happened?”

Killua shrugs. “Then we got ready for bed, he said he felt the same way, and we fell asleep.” Palm and Ikalgo just stare at him blankly, looking absolutely dumbfounded. “What?”

“Then you fell asleep?” Palm asks incredulously. “Together, right? Because you’re not actually the two dumbest people to walk the earth?”

Frowning, Killua replies, “Um, no. I mean, we fell asleep at the same time, I guess, but I was on his futon and he was in his bed.”

“Follow-up question,” Palm continues, “what the fuck is wrong with you? Like, honestly, in the nicest way I can possibly ask, are you an idiot?”

“… Am I supposed to see how that’s nice?”

Palm sighs loudly, letting her hand fall heavily against the table. “Sorry. Okay. Do you actually not see how unbelievable it is that you both admitted that you think the other is hot, and in response, you basically said, ‘okay, sick’, and went to bed? Separately? Even though you shared a room for two weeks?”

Killua scratches a cheek that he feels is swiftly heating up. “I guess? Him calling me hot doesn’t necessarily mean he wants to, like, hook up or anything.”

“Dude,” Ikalgo cuts in, “yes it does. Don’t you want to hook up with him because you think he’s hot?”

“I mean, yeah, but-”

“So why do you think he wouldn't feel the same way?”

Killua looks to the ceiling, exasperated. “It’s not that black and white! I can’t just fuck up my friendship with him because I can’t keep it in my pants.”

“I don’t think you’re having much say in keeping it there,” Palm says, being met with a glare from Killua. “Okay, yeah, sorry, I recognize how that was in poor taste. But, listen. I get why you’re nervous. I just think you could stand to put yourself out there and go after what you want every now and again, especially since you know that he feels the same, at least somewhat.”

A few beats go by before Killua drags a hand down his face. “Fine, yeah, I get that. But it doesn’t matter now anyway because neither of us have even mentioned it since then, so it is what it is.”

Palm opens her mouth to respond just when a waitress comes over and asks to take their food order. When she leaves, Ikalgo makes a joke about Palm’s order that, thank god, manages to steer the conversation away from the original topic at hand and gives Killua at least one period of respite from the all-consuming enigma of a man that is Gon Freecss.

Chapter Text

Killua thinks he might throw up and wonders whether it’s because of his rigid fucking uniform pants or the disgusting amount of nerves he has.

The first game of the season starts in just about thirty minutes which means it’s time for Killua and Gon to start getting warmed up in the bullpen, and Killua must look like a ghost with the way Gon reacts to seeing him once he arrives.

“Jesus Christ,” Gon starts, looking up from his phone. “I know I told you to go heavy on the sunscreen, but matching your face to your hair is not what I meant.”

Killua drops his bag next to Gon’s and sighs. “I’m actually gonna be sick.”

Gon’s eyebrows raise up at him. “Nervous?” All Killua can do in response is nod. “You’re gonna do great. And if you don’t - which you will, don’t give me that look, I’m just saying - it’s just a game. One game.”

“Yeah, one game that fucking everyone is coming to, for some reason,” Killua whines, fiddling with his hat. “I really didn’t know this many people cared about the school baseball team. I thought that was more for football.”

“Our football team kind of sucks as far as teams go in our division, to be honest,” Gon shrugs. “But we’re consistently a playoff baseball team. And who doesn’t love guys in baseball pants?” He does a spin and Killua refuses to let his eyes travel down, acutely aware of the overwhelmingly unforgiving fabric of his own pants.

“Good to know.”

Gon puts his hand on Killua’s right shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “Look,” he starts, “It’s gonna be fine, no matter what. Okay? Just pitch like you’ve been pitching to me for the last few weeks. If they make contact, they make contact. It’s not all on you to get us to a win, okay? And, also, do you know how rare no-hitters are?” Killua shakes his head. “Very. Especially in college. You should expect a few hits and a few walks over the course of the game. It’s normal. Just focus on me behind the plate and on throwing the ball to me. That’s it. The team will take care of the rest. Alright?”

Killua lets out a breath and nods. “Alright, yeah. I’ll try. Thanks.” He looks back at Gon and shoots him a timid smile. “Wanna warm up?”

Gon flashes back a warm smile of his own. “Let’s do it.”

The two toss back and forth for the better part of twenty minutes, going over the hand signals once more and generally loosening up their arms. With about ten minutes to go before the first pitch, both teams head out to the field for pre-game formalities: Announcing the start of the season, captains shaking hands, umpire introductions, and announcing the players for the day. When Killua’s name gets called last for the Chimera Ants, he hears noticeably louder cheering coming from the bleachers. He looks over and sees Alluka, Palm, and Ikalgo whooping for him; when they see that he’s looked over, the three of them unzip their coats to show that they’re wearing matching t-shirts with Killua’s face and stock photos of baseball gloves on them that read, “KILLUA’S A CATCH!”. The color floods back into Killua’s hardened face, and if he wasn’t so nauseous and mortified, he’d march off the field and make them burn the shirts right then and there.

Gon seems to notice the shirts, too, since he leans over and whispers to Killua, “Cute.”

“Thank you, I know,” Killua replies, spinning back around to face the field. “Hell of a time to tell me, though.”

Gon snorts, standing back upright. “You’re right. I’ll save the rest of my comments for after the game.”

“Much appreciated.”

The two share glances coupled with half-smiles while the opposing team members from the Meteor City Phantoms are introduced. Minutes later, Killua finds himself walking to the mound with the stark realization that fuck him, this is really happening.

The umpires get settled and the lead-off hitter for the Phantoms takes a few test swings outside the visitor’s dugout. As he walks up to the plate, Killua’s eyes widen and he looks to Gon for some sense of normalcy and comfort. Gon looks back at him and flashes him a small smile, a wink, and a thumbs up before pulling down his mask and getting into position.

The batter walks up to the plate.

Killua takes a breath.

Gon flashes him one finger, then wiggles two: A fastball on the outside.

Killua nods.

He winds up, lifting his right leg towards his chest and both hands to his left ear, and throws.

The ball flies past the plate, into Gon’s glove, just off the corner.

“Ball!”

Killua closes his eyes briefly and exhales frustratedly before Gon tosses him back the ball and he turns around to walk back up to the rubber of the mound. “It’s just one pitch,” he mutters to himself, turning the ball between his fingers. “Just one pitch.”

He takes a deep, slow breath as he gets set up again, placing his left hand gripping the ball into his glove and up to his face. Gon gives him another one-finger, two-finger call. He shakes his head. Gon goes to a three-finger signal instead. Killua shakes his head again and swears he can see Gon’s shoulders shake in laughter. Gon gives him a two-finger, one-finger signal set, an inside curveball, and Killua nods.

He winds up again and exhales as he releases the ball.

The ball drops perfectly on the cusp of the inside corner and the umpire shouts, “Strike!”

Killua smiles to himself as Gon once again returns the ball to him before he resets his positioning.

Another two-finger, one-finger call. Another nod. Another pitch, a little higher this time, and another called strike as the ball floats just inside the strike zone on the top, inside corner.

Killua rolls his shoulders back as he resets once again on the mound. He looks to Gon for the call, but Gon’s hands stay in place.

If ever there was a time to test Killua, to let him pick the pitch, this was not it. Killua shakes his head - mostly at Gon, partially at himself - and opts for a curveball down the middle, aiming for the bottom of the strike zone, hoping the hitter will expect a pitch on the sides.

He once again winds up and throws. The ball falls just a bit higher than expected and the hitter swings his bat, leaving Killua holding his breath.

A swing and a miss lead to the first out, a strikeout, and the bleachers cheer. Gon throws the ball to the first baseman for the infield to toss the ball around between hitters; he lifts his mask and flashes Killua a huge smile and another thumbs up.

Killua exhales. One down, two to go. And then again. And again. And, for at most, nine total innings, again.

—

The game progresses in an exciting way, at least from the perspective of the Ants and YC fans. Killua’s outing lasts for six innings - a feat for a new pitcher - with a final line of just two hits, one earned run, one walk, and nine strikeouts, an equally impressive record for a rookie. The run he gave up occurred in the fifth inning at the top of the lineup, a second-pitch homerun, and Gon called for a quick trip to the mound to give Killua a pep talk.

“Hey,” he had said, “Don’t worry. It’s one run. We’re up four to one, and this is the second hit you’ve given up all game. Do you know how insane that is?” Killua had messed with his hat again and looked away in response, causing Gon to add, “It’s fucking amazing. And rare. That was one of their best hitters. Just take a breath and go back to what you were doing, okay, Kil? You’ve got this.” Hearing that again got Killua to bring his head back up, look at Gon, and nod with a small smile. Gon returned the smile and gave him a squeeze on the shoulder before jogging back to home plate.

And that had been that, because for the rest of his time on the mound, Killua threw only four more balls and struck out three of the remaining five hitters he faced for the day. When he returned to the dugout after the sixth inning and Coach Bisky told him that he was done for the day, she must have noticed the look of concern on his face, because she told him, “Kid, you did great. I’d keep you out there all day with the way you’ve been throwing, but it’s your first game, and I need to take care of your arm and you. I have a feeling you’ll be throwing a whole game at some point this season, but let’s give ‘em something to look forward to, huh?”

The Ants had a phenomenal day offensively at home, with Gon getting them on the board with a three-run homer and the Phantoms pitcher walking in the fourth run. The energy of the crowd definitely helped boost their performance and ease Killua’s nerves; he had gone into the game assuming he would receive boos and taunts if he fucked up, but he was only met with cheers or words of encouragement. It was nice.

It was fun.

And to add to the fun, Zushi had announced that for tonight and tonight alone, the entire team could invite whoever they wanted to the Eta Chi Eta house for a party to celebrate the start of the season - a winning start, at that.

“It’s gonna be a night of absolute insanity,” Zushi says, walking back to the house alongside Gon and Killua, heading to their own apartments to shower. “Who are you guys bringing?”

“I mean, I already know Palm and Ikalgo will be there,” Killua shrugs, “so I’ll let Alluka know she can come if she wants.”

“Oh, she’s already coming.”

Killua scrunches his eyebrows in confusion as he looks at Zushi. “How do you know?”

Zushi widens his eyes innocently. “We’re friends!”

Killua ignores this and keeps walking. “What about you, Gon?”

Gon chuckles. “Honestly, I was gonna go home for the night; my aunt wanted to have dinner with me to celebrate the win, so I figured I’d just sleep at her house tonight.”

Killua and Zushi stop in their tracks. “Dude,” Zushi starts, “no way. You have to come tonight.”

“Yeah, for once, I agree with him,” Killua adds. “You cannot leave me to fend for myself with the team and a bunch of their friends. I’ll go insane.”

“I’ll be there!” Zushi says.

Killua blinks at him a few times before looking back at Gon. “Like I said, I’ll go insane.” Zushi groans in response. “Please, Gon. Please. I need you there.”

An unreadable look flashes on Gon’s face before he smirks back at Killua. “Fine, because you’re so goddamn needy, I’ll come.” Killua has his hands pressed together in gratitude when Gon adds, “But, you’ve gotta come with me to dinner. My aunt won’t stop asking about you.”

“Or will you just not stop bringing him up?” Zushi raises his eyebrows a few times at Gon who promptly glares at him in response.

“You want me to come eat your aunt’s incredible food for free in exchange for you coming to the party? Gee, what a trade,” Killua says, feigning thought. “I guess I can manage that.”

Gon rolls his eyes, smiling, as the three of them come up to the Eta Chi Eta house. Zushi claps them both on the shoulders and departs with a quick, “See you bitches tonight!” before Killua and Gon pause in front of Gon’s driveway.

“So, what time should I be ready for our hot date with your aunt?”

Gon scrunches his nose. “Gross. I’ll stop at the liquor store to grab something to bring and then I’ll pick you up at, like, a little after five?”

Killua raises his eyebrows with a smirk. “Wining and dining me? How did I get so lucky?”

Chuckling and shaking his head, Gon says, “The getting lucky is supposed to come after the wining and dining, ya know, but I’m open to changing the itinerary.”

“Whatever works,” Killua says, feeling a slight heat rise to his cheeks. “Alright, then I’ll, uh, see you around five?”

“I’ll be there,” Gon replies. “And, by the way, you seriously killed it today. I know everyone probably already told you that, but I wanted to tell you again. You were awesome out there.”

At least now, Killua can blame the red in his face on this.

“Yeah, well,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck, “I had a great coach.”

“You mean tutor.”

“No, I meant Coach Bisky. I could take or leave you.” Gon pouts and Killua rolls his eyes. “I’m kidding, you idiot. I couldn’t have done it without you, so, thanks.”

Gon smiles back at him. “Anytime.”

The two look at each other for just a few extra seconds until Gon clears his throat. “Anyways, I gotta shower, like, immediately, but I’ll see you later!”

Killua mockingly salutes him and replies, “Godspeed. See you.”

He walks the rest of the way home with his bag slung over his right shoulder and his left hand shoved deep into his pocket, a contented smile on his face the entire time.

—

“Killua, you just did so great out there! Was this really your first game ever?”

Killua has a sheepish look on his face as he replies, “Thanks, Mito. Yeah, it was. I’m not really a sports guy.”

Gon snorts, his mouth full of food. He swallows and asks, “You mean an athlete?”

“Same thing.”

Gon, Killua, and Mito are sitting around Mito’s dining table, finishing up dinner and talking about the game and Killua’s athletic history (or lack thereof). Mito had made an absolute spread: Fresh-baked dinner rolls, perfectly-seasoned lasagna, and the freshest salad Killua had ever tasted. Gon had picked up a nice bottle of Pinot Noir to bring, which luckily paired perfectly with dinner, and Killua was convinced that Mito was going to cry when they walked in the door out of sheer joy from seeing them.

Not that he was complaining - he wouldn’t say no to a rare showing of familial affection every now and then, even from somebody else’s family.

“Don’t be so smart, Gon,” Mito says, reaching across the table to grab Gon and Killua’s empty plates before getting up to bring them to the sink. Killua goes to stand and help but is instantly shot down by Mito as she heads into the kitchen. “Oh, please, sit. I appreciate it, but I love hosting. Did you save room for dessert?”

Gon interrupts before Killua has a chance to answer. “Killua always has room for dessert. Infinite room.”

Killua laughs. “He’s right.”

“Great!” Mito chirps, walking back in with a plate of-

“Are those chocolate croissants?” Killua’s eyes go wide, salivating at the mere sight of them.

Gon whispers, loudly, “I told you,” and Mito chuckles as she shakes her head.

“Yes, they are,” she answers. “They’re my favorite dessert to make - popular, too! Please, help yourself.”

Killua doesn’t need to be told twice.

He reaches for the plate and grabs the one sitting on the top of the pile. Bringing it back to place on his napkin, he wastes no time in ripping off a piece and devouring the bite.

It takes all his strength not to legitimately moan at the table.

“Oh my god,” Killua says, already going to rip another piece off. “These are absolutely incredible. They taste just like the croissants they sell at the bakery right near campus. I go there an embarrassing amount just for them.”

Mito glances at Gon with a soft laugh. “Well, I’d hope they do, since that’s my bakery.”

Killua stops mid-chew, raising his head and meeting her eyes. Swallowing a wholly-too-large bite, he clears his throat and asks, “Sorry, what?”

Gon can’t hold in his laughter anymore; he puts his glass down and absolutely cackles. Killua can’t help but just gape at the two of them, shifting his gaze between Gon and Mito, absolutely confused.

Mito shakes her head again at Gon’s behavior, a seemingly common theme, before looking back at Killua, her eyebrows furrowed. “You didn’t know? I’d have assumed you and Gon would have gone there at some point.”

“We have,” Killua replies, his confused expression replaced by a deadpan one and a glare directed at Gon, still laughing to himself and avoiding eye contact. “Dozens of times, actually. And every single time, I get a chocolate croissant, and he knows it.” He looks back at Mito. “I’ve never seen you there, though; usually I just see the college kids that work behind the counter.”

“I’m rarely in there,” she clarifies. “At least at any normal time of day. I go in early in the morning before opening to set up shop, drop off or bake the goods for the day, and make sure we’re not running low on anything. I wish Gon had told me; I’d be saving a free croissant for you every time I went in!”

Killua feels his eye twitch as his gaze intensifies at Gon, who’s now starting to look like he’s understanding the errors of his ways. “That’s so nice of you,” he pushes out, ripping his eyes off of Gon and back towards Mito with a smile on his face, “but so unnecessary. You don’t need to give me free food; trust me, I’d be buying them just as often even if they were double the price.”

Mito scoffs, waving her hand at him. “Don’t be ridiculous. I already leave a treat for Gon every morning; I’ll just add one for you with a note for the barista and you can just tell them your name if they don’t already know who you are. They’ll give it to you.”

“With the amount he goes,” Gon says, back to trying to hold in his amusement, “I’m sure they know who he is.” Killua returns to glaring at him between more bites of his croissant.

“Gon, don’t you dare shame this poor boy for having a sweet tooth,” Mito chides, causing Gon to go silent and look down. “It’s people like him that keep me in business. Besides, you have no room to talk. I raised you, I’ve seen just how much you can eat.”

Killua snorts and Gon shoots him a defeated look. “Thanks, Mito, I seriously appreciate it. When I get married, I’ll probably be calling you up for the desserts at the wedding.”

Mito’s laughter rings out in amusement. “Oh, Killua, you’re too much.” She takes a sip of her wine before continuing. “Who’s the lucky one?”

Killua cocks his head in confusion. “Sorry, I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! I just assumed you might have a significant other, what with a wedding on the mind, at least enough to mention.”

Killua swallows preemptively, a larger chew of his croissant going down all too slowly, and he decides that wine is the clear choice to try and wash it down with. After a few throat-clearing coughs, he sneaks a look at Gon, whose eyes are narrowed in intense curiosity, and he feels his stomach flip.

He briefly thinks that this is the first time wine has ever unsettled his stomach while another part of his brain replies, It’s not the wine, you absolute imbecile, and you know it.

Killua laughs nervously and scratches his cheek. “Oh, god, no, it’s okay. I, uh, I’m not with anyone at the moment, no, but maybe one day.” He keeps his gaze fixed away from Gon, who he can peripherally see is staring right at him. “Especially with graduating early, my job, and baseball, it’s like I barely have time to think about myself, let alone somebody else, so it’s probably for the best.” This, he notices, is when Gon’s eyes redirect themselves to the table.

“That makes perfect sense,” Mito says, smiling softly. “You’re so young and have so much time ahead of you. But you’re such a sweet young man that anyone would be lucky to know you.” Killua blushes and gives her a shy half-smile. “Gon has never had a girlfriend - or a boyfriend - either, and I can’t imagine why!”

Gon’s eyes go wide and his face reddens as he whips his head towards her. “Aunt Mito!”

Mito looks at him questioningly before a look of panic washes over her face. “Oh, honey, please don’t tell me I just outed you.” She shifts her eyes quickly to Killua. “Please pretend I never said that.”

Killua can’t help but laugh heavily at this, his eyes scrunched, as he shakes his head. “No, don’t worry, I knew already.” He peeks at Gon, who looks absolutely mortified, and decides he likes the look of it, so he continues. “Actually, funny story, over Christmas is when Gon decided to tell me he wasn’t straight; or, actually, it’s more like that’s when I found out.” Gon’s eyes widen and his blush deepens, and Killua looks away before letting out a laugh. “He had asked me if I’ve ever had a boyfriend, and I said no, but then I told him that I can’t ask him the same thing, because of course he had never had a boyfriend, but maybe a girlfriend. He was so confused, and it was because I apparently thought he was straight the entire time.” He looks over at Gon, whose mouth is agape, and can’t help but smile in amusement.

Mito replies with a loud laugh. “Oh, god, that is too much.” She shifts her gaze to Gon. “Sorry, baby, but I must say, it’s very obvious that you’re at least a little bit interested in men. Part of me thinks it’s why you love baseball so much. The pants are quite… form-fitting, and it’s hard to not see your eyes wander.”

Killua thinks Gon might run from the table and never look back with the flushed, abashed look he has on his face, so, of course, Killua chuckles. “I should’ve known better,” he says.

“Okay,” Gon says, finally regaining the ability to speak, “while I love talking about my sexual preferences with my aunt, I think we need to go.” He stands up from the table and finishes the rest of his wine in one large sip. “We have a party tonight to celebrate the winning start of the season at Zushi’s frat house.”

“Is that the one right next door to you? Are you sure you can drive right now?” Mito asks, and Gon nods in response to both questions. “Oh, great! I guess it wasn’t even a full glass, anyhow. I’ll let you boys go then.” She and Killua stand from the table and she walks around it to give him a hug. “So great to see you again, Killua.” She releases him from the hug but moves her hands to his shoulders, leans in near his ear, and whispers, “I can see why you’re so special to Gon.” She gives him a squeeze and moves on to give hugs and kisses to Gon, but Killua doesn’t hear what they say because his blood is audibly rushing in his ears.

Special? Him? To Gon?

Killua is brought back into reality by Gon grabbing his arm and replying to Mito, “Thanks again, Aunt Mito! Love you!” Killua stumbles in the same direction as Gon, quickly turning his head and waving at Mito, who just smiles back at him.

Once they get outside and Gon pulls the door shut behind them, he exhales loudly and pointedly looks at Killua with narrowed eyes. “Did you have fun in there?”

Killua can’t help but laugh as he comes out of his daze and gets into the passenger seat of Gon’s car. “Of course I did,” he replies once Gon settles into the driver’s seat. “Why? Did you not?”

Starting the car and looking ahead, Gon answers with a flat, “No.”

“Should I have told her that instead of you telling me you like guys, you told me I was hot?”

Gon whips his head to look at Killua, his face flushing again already and eyes wide. “Do you hate me?”

Killua smiles innocently at him as he crinkles his nose and reaches over to pinch Gon’s cheek. “Of course not.”

“Do you remember how that conversation started, then?” Gon asks, pulling his head away and swatting at Killua’s hand. “I could have elaborated and told her that you told me you think I’m stupidly hot first.”

“I said ‘annoyingly’, actually,” Killua mumbles, shifting his gaze to outside of his own window. 

“Same thing.”

The two sit in the quiet as the car heats up before Gon peels out of the driveway and starts to head back towards campus. After a few minutes, Killua thinks he needs to say something, anything; his brain is swirling with a Venn diagram of dozens of topics he wants to bring up and dozens of topics he can’t bring up for his own sanity.

The Venn diagram is a circle.

He settles on something light as he adjusts back to facing forward. “I love your aunt, possibly even more now that I know she’s the mastermind behind easily my biggest guilty pleasure.”

Gon chuckles as he flicks his turning signal on. “Good, I’m pretty sure she wants to adopt you or something.”

“Adopted siblings thinking that the other is hot? Kinda gross, not gonna lie.” Killua’s not sure why he said this since what he wanted to say was, “If it meant I could eat her food every day, then I’ll sign the papers right now,” but his head’s still a little fuzzy.

“Oh, nice,” Gon says, scrunching his nose, “excuse me while I throw up.”

“Yeah, I regretted that as soon as I said it.”

Gon laughs in response and Killua decides that they need to keep talking lest his brain run itself rampant with overthinking. “You think the party tonight will be fun?”

“Yeah, probably,” Gon replies, shifting into a faster gear as they drive back onto the main road. “I mean, it’ll be more people than usual, but at least it’ll be people I know.” He sneaks a glance at Killua. “Honestly, I just figured we’d end up in Ikalgo’s room with him, Palm, Alluka, and Zushi anyway, so I guess the crowd really doesn’t even matter.”

“That’s fair,” Killua laughs. “It’ll probably end up with us sitting on the couch, having three beers, and yelling at each other as usual.”

“That’s exactly what’s gonna happen.”

—

That is not exactly what happened.

Shortly after Gon and Killua returned to Gon’s apartment, they asked Palm and Alluka to come over for a quick pregame - really just an excuse to all walk into the party together. Alluka had pressed them on how dinner was, to which Killua responded, “I think we all need some shots!”. Palm shed her sweater to reveal that she was still wearing the shirt from the earlier game and Killua told her that he would pay her one hundred dollars to take it off. Gon told her that he would pay her two hundred dollars to keep it on. Palm told them both to go fuck themselves for trying to bribe her on what to wear before loudly whispering to Gon that she was obviously keeping it on.

With three tequila shots each in their systems, they headed over to the Eta Chi Eta house around 8:30, and to say that the party was in full swing would be an understatement. Killua and Palm shared a look that they both knew meant they had never seen the house so crowded. Getting through the main floor was, for the first time, difficult; the basement had a DJ set up in it and, therefore, a mass of people dancing that overflowed into the stairwell; the brothers at the door were handing out drink tickets for the first time ever, secretly slipping “regulars” entire sheets of them since they weren’t worried about their behavior; and the upstairs floors were blocked off, opening up only for brothers and, if necessary, their… partners, should they need the space.

Needless to say, the usual night at the frat house was not happening tonight.

Soon after they arrived, Ikalgo came by, greeted them all, and grabbed Palm’s arm, muttering something about her having left something here the last time she was over. Not long after that, while Killua, Gon, and Alluka were grabbing drinks from the makeshift bar on the main floor, Zushi came over and whisked them away to the walk-in pantry behind the kitchen for even more shots with a bottle of liquor he had hidden in there for this very reason. Sometime later, somewhere in the shuffle and the tequila-ridden brain fog, Killua realized that Zushi and Alluka were no longer with them. Not that he would ever say it out loud (or maybe he would with a few more shots), but he was glad to have some time with just Gon.

Usually, having his sister and friends around him made him feel more comfortable in situations like these, but since so many students and teammates kept coming up to him to congratulate him on the game and praise him for his performance, he figured that the fewer people in his inner circle around to see him flush red and stumble over his words of uncomfortable gratitude, the better.

It was now just after 11 and Gon and Killua found themselves lingering in the hall on the main floor by the basement stairs, generously-poured drinks in hand, laughing at stories that really weren’t all that funny and seemingly using any excuse to stand as close to each other as humanly possible without actually touching.

Somebody accidentally bumped one of their shoulders while walking by them? Oh, sorry, no problem, they’ll just move closer to the wall.

Gon said something that Killua couldn’t quite hear? He’ll just take a step closer and lean in to make sure he gets it this next time.

Killua has a hair out of place? Don’t worry, Gon will just lean in a bit to make sure he can precisely put it back into place and his hand will gently graze Killua’s cheek as he does so and Killua will decide that he needs to take a gulp of his drink before he passes out, or worse, leans in himself.

It felt almost like a game of chicken; Killua would make subtle and vaguely suggestive comments or jokes towards Gon just to see how riled up he’d get and to enjoy the flush of his cheeks. Until Gon would give him the same treatment back and Killua would think he was either going to start sweating from the heat in his face or grab Gon by the ear and drag him back into the pantry if he didn’t shut the hell up.

Today was proving more difficult than usual for Killua to shove his swirling emotions and confusing feelings down and ignore them, and Gon’s outfit was definitely not helping the situation. Despite the bitter cold outside, the boys had opted to leave their jackets next door, so Gon was donning a white tee with an unbuttoned green flannel, the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows, and a pair of dark-wash jeans cuffed just above his white sneakers, showing a peek of his white athletic socks. His hair was styled just enough for everything to stay in place, save for the one piece of hair hanging down just above his right eye that Killua had to consciously not reach out and touch.

Killua thought Gon looked like he just walked straight out of the 90s and loved every single thing about it.

Killua also thought that he personally looked better than average, having put more effort than usual into his outfit today - for dinner at Mito’s, obviously. His blue and white patterned short-sleeve, just barely long enough to be tucked into his black skinny jeans, had the sleeves cuffed just a touch and the buttons undone to roughly halfway down his chest; he figured something different from his usual selection of crewnecks was warranted. His go-to black high-tops were freshly cleared of chafes and he had decided to fluff his hair a little more intently with just enough pieces poking out to look naturally wind-swept.

He thought he looked good enough to take himself home, which, honestly, was probably what was going to happen anyway.

As if reading his mind, Gon asks, “I’m surprised to see you wearing something like that.”

Killua furrows his eyebrows as he takes a sip. “What? My black skinnies that I wear almost every day? Or my shoes that, for once, aren’t scuffed to shit?”

“No,” Gon laughs, “not your usual attire, you smartass. The shirt.” Killua looks down and suddenly feels self-conscious about how far open he feels like his shirt is undone. He looks back up and catches Gon’s gaze, pointedly directed at what looks like the very spot where his shirt stops being buttoned, and he smirks.

“You like it?” he asks, toying with the undone buttons. He starts to unbutton a few more and watches Gon’s eyes go wide as he says, “I was debating how to wear it. Either with a few more undone…” He trails off, watching Gon’s eyes follow his hands down. “Or all the way buttoned,” he says, starting to button them back up, this time all the way to the top button, still watching Gon track him all the way up. “Or, I guess, the way I had it earlier. What do you think?”

He tries not to laugh when he sees Gon visibly swallow and blink a few times before looking up and taking a gulp from his cup.

“I, um,” Gon starts, seemingly unable to get his words out. “Not this one.”

Killua feigns unawareness, briefly glancing back down at his shirt. “What’s wrong with this?” He looks back up and meets Gon’s eyes, staring intently into his. “It makes me look all done up.”

Gon’s gaze doesn’t falter as he replies lowly and almost too quietly to hear, “Too done up.”

“What, you want to see a little more skin?” Killua asks, raising his eyebrows once as a taunt. He figures he’s close to getting an absolutely hilarious reaction out of Gon, so might as well be direct and make him a little bit more uncomfortable.

“Yes.”

What?

“What?” Killua asks, not having expected Gon to have actually given him a real answer, or at least not one that wasn’t riddled with stumbled-over words.

“Yes,” he repeats, and Killua notices Gon’s eyes have darkened. “It looked better before.”

Now Killua’s feeling his mouth go dry while he takes a few seconds before replying, “Oh, uh, okay,” as he reaches for his buttons.

Until Gon beats him to it.

Killua’s eyes widen as Gon manages to move even closer into his personal space, enough to smell the tequila and lime soda on his breath, and grabs the topmost button between his fingers. “Let me help you out,” he says, just above a whisper, and Killua’s own breath catches in his throat as Gon undoes one, two, three buttons excruciatingly slowly with one hand, his fingertips just barely grazing Killua’s neck and chest on the way down. Gon looks up through his eyelashes, head still angled down towards the shirt, and says, “I’d undo them all, but there are too many people around for that.”

Trying to regain control over both himself and the situation, Killua replies as steadily as his voice will allow, “Don’t want me showing off?”

Gon straightens himself back up and leans to the side against the wall, a knowing smirk planting itself on his face.

Goddamn it, Killua thinks, he knows I’m fucking with him.

“For everyone else? No,” Gon answers, shaking his head once. “For just me?” His expression softens into an innocent smile. “I’d almost beg you to.”

Killua feels heat travel both across his face and deep within his gut and decides he has absolutely nothing to say back to that to reclaim the upper hand. So, instead, he finishes his drink and mutters, “I’m going to the bar.”

Before he can even turn around, an arm finds its way across his shoulders and he flinches in surprise.

“Why so jumpy?”

He looks over and sees that it’s just Palm with Ikalgo standing just beside her.

“Where’ve you guys been?” Killua asks. The two in question share a quick look and Killua wants to smack them both for this unspoken communication device they’ve recently developed over the last few months.

“I, uh, left my bracelet here the last time we came over,” Palm replies, waving her arm with the bracelet circling around her wrist.

“Then we got some drinks and were on our way to find you guys again,” Ikalgo adds, “but got roped into a pretty intense game of King’s Cup over in the main living room.”

Gon shoots Killua a devious look. “Killua loves King’s Cup,” he says, a lazy smile on his face. “Especially the question card. You guys know how much he enjoys answering deep questions.”

Deep questions my ass, Killua thinks, and glares back at him.

“Yeah, that sounds like our Killua,” Palm says, pulling him in by the neck for a tight side hug, squishing her cheek against his. Killua’s shoulders go up and he breaks free, leaning away into the wall.

“Why do you all love to torture me so much, especially when I don’t have a drink in my hand to help me deal with it?”

“We all know you’re a little masochist, so just get over yourself,” Palm says. Killua feels Gon staring at him after that and he wishes somebody would pull the fire alarm so he could leave. Palm also seems to notice how intently Gon is looking at Killua because she adds, “Okay, maybe not all of us. Here, before you collapse to the ground, you poor thing, have the rest of my drink.”

Palm hands him her cup, only about a quarter of the drink remaining, and raises her eyebrows in surprise as he downs it in one gulp.

“Okay,” Ikalgo says, clearly trying to diffuse whatever the hell situation is going on, “You guys wanna go downstairs and dance?”

Killua gives him a tired look. “When have I ever even suggested that I might answer ‘yes’ to that question?”

“I mean, we can keep standing here and pull up some embarrassing stories about you-”

Killua cuts off Ikalgo and immediately cuts between him and Palm towards the basement stairs when he says, “Nope, dancing it is.”

Gon, Palm, and Ikalgo all laugh as they follow him down the stairs into a dark abyss of students absolutely on top of each other, but Killua can’t help but notice that it seems that’s intentional. The DJ is partway through a bass-heavy remix of “Good Girls Go Bad” by Cobra Starship and the basement is full of friends dancing in circles, partners dancing very much in each other’s space, and pairs making out against the walls. There’s plenty of excess room to move and spread out - just not many people interested in using it.

“This is insane,” Killua shouts over the music once they’ve made their way down the stairs and into an open-enough space towards the front of the room.

“I know you’re not an expert,” Ikalgo says, leaning in closer to not be so loud, “but this is what people do when they want to make a move on someone.” Killua glares at him in response before shifting his eyes to Gon, who evidently found that hilarious.

Somebody across the room calls Palm’s name; she says something about meeting back up with them later before grabbing Ikalgo’s arm and pulling him away. Killua cuts over to stand in front of Gon before leaning into his ear and asking, “You gonna ditch me down here or what?”

Gon pulls back and looks at him in total confusion. “What?”

“You said you used to come to frat parties and make out with people on the dance floor. Just wondering if you still think you’ve got your a-game.”

He scoffs. “That was years ago,” Gon replies, shaking his head. “I told you, I have standards now. And a type.”

“Anyone here fit that type, since you’re apparently so picky?” Killua thinks he might throw up even asking.

He really thinks he might throw up when he watches Gon eye him up and down before meeting his gaze, shrugging with one shoulder, and replying, “One person, I guess.”

Killua swallows heavily. “Care to share?”

“Share them?” Gon asks, cocking his head to the side. “No, not particularly.” He takes a small step forward. “I can get kind of jealous.”

Nodding slowly, Killua says the least amount of words he can muster up for fear of his voice wavering. “Noted.”

The two of them look at each other for a few seconds, gazes wandering around each other’s faces, as the song fades out and a remix of “Goosebumps” by Travis Scott starts playing over the speakers. Killua notices Gon look over past his shoulder briefly before meeting his eyes again.

Gon reaches out and grabs Killua at the waistband of his jeans, his hand just brushing the side of his torso where his shirt must have come untucked, and pulls him in just by a foot or so. Killua inhales sharply and stumbles, putting his hand out to Gon’s chest to stop himself from colliding with Gon’s chest. He widens his eyes but, thank god, doesn’t have enough time to be embarrassed because he whips around at the sound of three girls absolutely bulldozing their way through the crowd, rushing past where he was just standing.

Killua’s skin is burning where Gon’s hand just touched and he’s convinced the air in the room is getting thicker as he struggles to breathe at a normal pace. What the fuck is going on tonight?

“You wanna dance?” Gon says, breathy and low, right by his ear. All Killua can do is nod again and start to turn back around to face him, but he’s stopped by Gon’s hands planting themselves just under his waist again, this time intentionally going for the skin just above his jeans and ever-so-slightly under his shirt, and pulling him back just a few more inches. “Just follow my lead, Kil.”

Jesus Christ.

Gon moves side to side, his grip firm, as Killua sways with him, his eyes shut as he focuses on steadying his breathing. Not that he wasn’t having the best, yet most anxiety-inducing, time of his life right now, but he didn’t exactly feel like he knew what he was supposed to be doing.

“I feel like I can hear you thinking,” Gon says into his ear. “What’s up?”

A loaded question.

“Just,” Killua starts, finding his voice again and opening his eyes, “thinking about how I’ve never danced with anyone before and I’m probably gonna eat shit.”

He can feel Gon’s laughter vibrate throughout his entire body. “I wouldn’t say that this is the type of dancing where you could eat shit even if you tried.”

“You put a lot of faith in me.” Another laugh. “What are you thinking, then, other than probably feeling cocky about saving me from getting run over by a group of drunk girls?”

Gon must think this is a good time to start rubbing circles into Killua’s sides with his thumbs and Killua tries to suppress a full-body shiver. “Not much of anything,” Gon replies, his hair starting to tickle Killua’s ear, “other than how good you’re looking tonight.”

Killua audibly gulps and thanks a higher power that the music is so loud. “Oh?”

He feels Gon’s exhale on his neck. “Mhm. I’ve never seen you wear a shirt like this.”

“I dressed up for the occasion.”

“What was the occasion? Driving me fucking insane all night?”

Killua inhales and lets his eyes flutter shut again briefly. “Maybe.”

“Well, it’s working.”

Feeling a little bit more in control and a little less like a well-dressed bundle of gay panic, Killua retorts, “Good to know. Care to elaborate on what you mean by that?” He hears Gon’s breath hitch and smirks to himself. “Do I need to get you checked out?”

“I think you’ve been doing enough of that yourself.”

“I could say the same to you.”

Gon chuckles. “I already told you how good you look, so that shouldn’t be a surprise.”

“I guess not,” Killua replies, still moving back and forth with Gon, the rhythm changing as “The Hills” by The Weeknd fills the room. He’s sure that the alcohol in his system is talking when he asks, “What’s got you acting so forward today?”

“The tequila.”

“You should have tequila more often.”

Killua feels Gon’s hands tighten ever so slightly on his sides before he’s spun around, face-to-face, with only a few inches of space between them. “Are you trying to take advantage of me?” Gon asks, a playfully devilish look on his face.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Killua laughs, but it doesn’t reach his eyes which are laser-focused on Gon’s. “It’s just nice to finally know what you’re really thinking.”

“If you didn’t know what I was thinking before this, that’s on you.”

“Maybe I just need it spelled out for me a little more.”

There it is, out in the open. An invitation to honesty. To irreversible territory.

Gon leans in just enough to leave a breath’s amount of space between them. “I’ll be even more direct, then,” he whispers. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

Killua feels his brain short-circuit, his heart skip a beat, and his stomach flip all at once. He’s absolutely sure that he’s misheard, so he asks Gon to repeat himself. “What?”

A soft smile spreads across Gon’s face, though his eyes seem so intently focused on Killua’s lips that it doesn’t quite reach them. “What, what?”

“You…” Killua swallows and searches Gon’s face for any hint of jest, any indication this might be a joke. “Seriously?”

Gon’s right dimple presents itself as his smile grows in amusement. “Seriously.”

“Why?”

Somewhere, in a distant alternate reality, another Killua is smacking this Killua in the back of the head with a textbook for being such a goddamn idiot.

“I don’t really know how to answer that concisely.”

“I don’t really know why I asked,” Killua admits. “I don’t think I wanted to say any of that.”

Gon eyes him carefully. “What did you want to say?”

Killua breathes in deeply and lets his eyes finally wander to Gon’s lips.

Well, he thinks, fuck it, at this point.

“I wanted to say that you should.”

Gon’s eyes, halfway shut already, flicker back to Killua’s mouth. But, with Gon being Gon, he won’t just do the damn thing.

“I should what?”

Killua narrows his eyes at Gon’s. “Do you want me to die?”

“I told you what I want,” he replies, gaze unwavering. “I just also wanna know what you want.”

“Is it not obvious?”

Gon gives him a half-smile. “Humor me.”

Killua looks up at the ceiling, gathering every single iota of liquid confidence he has in his body before replying.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for months.”

Something flashes in Gon’s eyes - an undeniable, unfettered look of want - yet he still finds a way to draw this out. With a strained voice, he asks quietly, “And you’re just telling me now?”

Killua rolls his eyes, a shy smile on his face. “You’re lucky I’m telling you at all.”

Gon laughs as he brings one hand up from Killua’s side onto the back of his neck, fingers threading into his hair and thumb brushing his jaw just below his ear. “Yeah,” he says, “I really am,” and that’s the last thing Killua hears before he’s pulled the last inch forward and feels Gon’s lips on his, the rest of his senses fizzling out.

He briefly thinks he must be in a dream, his consciousness floating above his body and watching a scenario he could only ever hope for, but the thumping of the bass in his ears convinces him that this is real, this is Gon, and he must have done something right in life to be able to be living in this moment.

Somewhere in between the non-stop stream of GonGonGon in his brain, Killua thinks that he anticipated Gon’s lips to be rougher than they actually are, and what they actually are is unbelievably soft. It’s a gentle kiss, nothing more than repeated, soft presses of lips to each other, but it’s stoking a fire in Killua’s chest that he knows won’t easily be put out.

Killua can feel the grip on his side become just a touch firmer, the pads of Gon’s fingers pressing harder into his skin, and he takes his free hand to mirror the positioning, sliding under the white tee and settling just above Gon’s hip bone. He feels Gon’s movement still and opens his eyes to see him pulling just a touch away.

Gon’s half-lidded eyes flicker between Killua’s eyes and mouth as he pushes out an “Are you okay?” just barely loud enough to be heard over the music. For some reason, this check-in - sincere, albeit strained - simultaneously strikes Killua in his heart and in his gut. Before he can give himself the chance to overthink everything, he nods once, grabs Gon by the flannel with the hand that somehow made its way back to his chest, and pulls him back in.

The kiss is deeper and less hesitant; the first was cautious and careful while the second is desperate and full of emotion hoping to be wordlessly conveyed. Killua’s senses come back to him all at once and the first thing he notices is that he’s close enough to smell Gon’s cologne, the worn scent of pine and sweat surrounding him. It’s ridiculous and it’s addicting.

Another thing that’s ridiculous is how, against all logical reason, he feels the urge to open his mouth. He takes a quick breath and reconnects his lips with Gon’s, just slightly parted this time, and Gon follows his lead. After seemingly testing the waters for a few moments, Killua feels Gon’s tongue swipe against his bottom lip. He figures that if there was ever a time, ever a person to double down on his anti-tongue stance with tangible proof, it was Gon. So, he parts his mouth just enough more to mimic Gon’s movements and meet him in the middle.

Killua thinks of two things immediately: One, He tastes like tequila and lime. Two, Fuck you, Gon, for being right, but holy shit, you were fucking right and why weren’t we doing this all along?

If the way Gon smelled was addicting, the way he tastes is sinful. Killua is positive he’s going to die here in this very position because he’s never leaving; so, he moves his hand from Gon’s hip to Gon’s hair, tangles his fingers in, and holds him there so they can go down together.

Killua can feel Gon’s lips curl upward into a smile, clearly also aware that he won that argument, and tugs on his hair in playful annoyance. What isn’t playful is the sound Gon makes at this, and Killua decides he needs to find a way to be closer to Gon immediately, lest he explode. He reluctantly pulls away, ignores the confused look on Gon’s face as he keeps the grasp on his flannel, and pulls him to the nearest wall before pushing him against it and picking up where they left off.

Gon breathes out a laugh; when Killua leans back with a sour look on his face to ask what the hell is so funny and where the hell he learned how to do all of this, Gon takes the distraction as an opportunity to flip them around and pin Killua against the wall, his hand behind Killua’s head and their chests pressed against one another.

Okay, scratch what he said earlier, Killua decides that here is where he’s dying.

“Didn’t I say to follow my lead?” Gon says, a mischievous look on his face.

Killua groans and puts his hands on Gon’s shoulders, trying and failing to pull him closer. “Shut the hell up.”

Gon laughs and leans in just to the side, placing a ghost of a kiss on Killua’s neck just under his ear. It’s a good thing Killua has no wiggle room between the wall and Gon’s chest because if he did, he thinks he’d have just collapsed to the ground.

“I told you you just hadn’t done it with the right person,” Gon whispers into his ear, peppering a few more kisses on his jawline, and Killua closes his eyes and swallows hard.

“Are you gonna keep going or should I go find somebody else?” It’s a low blow and Killua knows it, but he also knows that Gon will be aware that he’s just kidding.

Gon pulls back and Killua didn’t think that his eyes could get even darker but they have, nearly indistinguishable in the barely-there light of the basement. He brings his nose to Killua’s and says, “I think you’d be disappointed.”

“And why’s that?”

With a smirk and a small tilt of his head, Gon replies, “Because none of them are me.”

Cocky piece of-

Gon cuts off Killua’s thoughts with his mouth and, honestly, it’s his favorite way he’s ever been shut up.

He’s not sure how long they make out against the wall; he’s not even sure he’s still conscious when he’s holding Gon’s hand and being dragged up the basement stairs, across the main floor, and, somehow, past the brothers blocking off the staircase to the upper floors.

He’s especially sure he must have passed out at some point and fallen into some sort of nightmare scenario when Gon pushes open the door to Ikalgo’s room to Palm and Ikalgo on his bed with their hands up each other’s shirts.

“What the fuck?” Killua can’t help the volume with which he announces his presence; he’d almost feel bad about shocking Ikalgo to the point of him smacking his head against the wall if he hadn’t just walked in on him feeling up their friend.

“Holy shit, Killua,” Palm says, standing abruptly and tugging her shirt back into place. “How did you guys get up here?”

“Who cares?” he replies, widened eyes shooting back and forth between her and Ikalgo. “What the hell is going on?”

Palm and Ikalgo share another glance and Killua cannot, cannot take this shit anymore.

“Can you both stop being so fucking suspicious and just tell me what the absolute fuck is happening?”

Ikalgo sighs and drops his head, staring at his lap. “You wanna tell him?” Killua shifts his gaze back to Palm, who’s glaring at Ikalgo.

“Baby,” she says, rolling her eyes, before looking back at Killua. “We’re, um…” she trails off, darting her eyes around the room. “Shit. Whatever. We’re going out.”

Killua just blinks back at her. “What?”

Palm closes her eyes and exhales. “We’re dating, Killua.”

“Since when?”

Silence.

“Seriously?” he asks. “No answer?”

Ikalgo clears his throat and Killua turns to face him. “Since right before Thanksgiving.”

Killua raises a single, agitated eyebrow as his mouth drops open. “Three months? Three whole months and you didn’t feel the need to tell me?”

“We thought you’d react poorly,” Palm says, her face sympathetic, as if that’s supposed to be a reasonable answer. “We knew you were dealing with your own stuff, and-”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Killua snaps with narrowed eyes. “Don’t bring my shit into this, especially right now, and act like it’s at all relevant. I thought you two were my best friends.” He shifts his gaze back between the two of them which they can’t seem to meet with their own. “You didn’t think I’d be happy for you? Why the fuck wouldn’t I?”

“To be fair,” Ikalgo chimes in, “we weren’t really telling anyone.”

Killua cocks his head at him. “So you’re telling me nobody knew?”

More silence.

He sees Ikalgo sneak a glance at Gon and turns his head. “Did you know?” he asks Gon, whose eyes are wide and who looks visibly nervous.

It takes a few seconds for Gon to look back at him and nod, almost imperceptibly, while saying softly, “They told me not to tell you.”

Killua scoffs. “Me?” he asks. “Specifically me, or anyone?” Gon looks away and that’s all the answer he needs. “Un-fucking-believable. All three of you. What the fuck did I do to make none of you think that maybe I should know?”

“I told you,” Palm says, “we thought you might react poorly.”

“React poorly how?” Killua asks incredulously, his throat starting to feel scratchy.

Palm shrugs. “Kind of like this.”

Killua shakes his head at her, his jaw tense. “Fuck that and fuck you both. No. This is how I’m reacting because you felt the need to lie to me for no goddamn reason for three months.” He turns towards Gon. “And you,” he says, poking Gon in the arm and causing him to look back up at him. “I thought you were my fucking friend, but you lied to me, too, and took their side.”

Gon flinches at Killua’s tone. “It’s not my business to share, and they asked me.”

Letting out a shaky breath and feeling a pinch behind his eyes, Killua looks up at the ceiling for a few moments before he speaks again. “You know,” he starts, letting out a dry laugh, “it’s funny how I tell you guys almost every single thing that happens to me, but when it’s something to do with you, even something good, you treat me like some fragile fucking child that can’t be happy for his friends.” He feels his eyes welling up and can’t be bothered to care enough to do anything about it. “The fact that you think I’m some sad sack of shit just because I’m single and don’t, like, have as much experience or whatever the fuck, so of course I wouldn’t be happy for you two being together, is fucking ridiculous.” He turns to look at Gon again. “And I have a feeling you didn’t even try and tell them that they should consider telling me, that you know I would never be anything but happy for them, because you know me. Am I right?” Gon just looks away again. “That’s what I thought. Poor, sad, single Killua, with his poor fucking anxiety attacks and shitty fucking family and complaints about his new best friend who he’s embarrassingly infatuated with, could never handle being happy for his other best friends who seem to be figuring it all out.”

He feels hot tears start to fall but makes no effort to wipe them away. “The irony in all of this is that we,” he waves his finger between himself and Gon a few times, “were coming up here to do exactly what you two were doing, and I was gonna tell you all about it tomorrow because I knew you’d be so fucking happy for me. But now I have no desire to tell you guys anything for the foreseeable future,” he says, his gaze shifting between Palm and Ikalgo. “And you,” he looks over at Gon again, who finally looks up to meet his eyes, his own looking glassy, “did you just feel sorry for me or something? Said to yourself, ‘Well, his best friends are hooking up, might as well pity him and let him know what it’s like, too,’? Did you just, like, lie and tell me you also thought I was attractive so I wouldn’t fucking embarrass myself because I’m too delicate to get over it like a big boy?”

Gon’s mouth drops, his eyebrows scrunched in sadness and confusion, and his voice is shaky when he replies. “C’mon, Kil, please, you know that’s not true-”

Killua cuts him off. “Don’t fucking call me that anymore,” he replies bitterly. “Don’t call me anything anymore. I don’t want to fucking talk to you. For now, any of you, but especially not you.” He would feel bad about the intense look of hurt that washes over Gon’s face if he wasn’t so enraged, upset, and ashamed.

He walks out the door, his heart beating too loudly in his ears for him to hear if any of them call after him or not. Covering his torso with his arms as he walks out of the house into the bitter cold, he briefly contemplates checking if Gon’s apartment is unlocked to grab his jacket before thinking that he would have a full-on breakdown if Gon happened to come home while he was in there. He rubs his hands up and down his arms as he walks home as quickly as possible, the wind biting his damp face.

When he walks into his apartment and notices that the alarm still isn’t set, he feels bad for a moment that Alluka is probably still at the party and he’s just made her need to find a way home by herself. But, his fragile and fiercely declining mental state doesn’t let him linger on that for too long, so he gets into his bedroom, strips off his shoes and jeans, and crawls into bed, not even having the energy to get into pajamas or do any of his nightly routines.

While the room feels like it’s spinning around him and his pillow is getting soaked by tears, Killua curses whatever previous version of himself didn’t remember to sign up for a gym class.

Chapter Text

Killua spends the Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday following the party claiming he has the stomach flu to anyone who needs to know, which really just consists of Coach Bisky so that he can miss the two other games in the series against the Phantoms. It’s not like he’s needed there, anyway, and he’s not pitching again until their next game on Friday afternoon, so he’s sure he won’t be too missed.

He’s also sure that he’s not being too missed by a certain dark-haired, two-faced, soft-lipped liar, since it’s Wednesday and he hasn’t gotten a single text from Gon. Not one.

Not that he would’ve responded, and it is true that he said he didn’t want to talk to Gon anymore, but it only served to solidify his theory that all of this was a giant fucking pity party thrown for him and him alone without his consent. It made him feel nauseous, but at least then his claim about having a stomach bug wasn’t totally unfounded.

Palm and Ikalgo, on the other hand, had been texting and calling him almost incessantly since Saturday night. They even sent him back his “usual time on Sunday? please” text that he had used to apologize to them just a few weeks ago. The difference this time, though, is that he didn’t show up, didn't react to the message, and hadn’t so much as confirmed that he was alive because he just couldn’t be bothered.

It was hard to avoid Alluka, all things considered, but she at least didn’t press when she knew something was wrong. She gave him his space, as usual, and when he was ready she splayed out on the couch with him to watch shitty comedy specials and eat an absurd amount of snacks without even the slightest nudge to talk about what was bothering him.

While Killua would legitimately rather go through college all over than go to practice tonight, he can’t help the guilt he feels at the prospect of making a commitment and then leaving the team high and dry, so he drags himself out of his bed after yet another day of missing classes to change into some decently warm workout clothes and make the trek up to campus. Fleetingly, he hopes that Gon has also been skipping practice and will continue to do so for the rest of the week.

He makes his way up to the fields just a few minutes before practice starts and internally sighs in relief when he doesn’t see the very man he’s avoiding.

Though, he does see the next-worst person, at least in this situation.

“Hey man,” Zushi says, clapping him on the shoulder and grabbing it a little too tightly for comfort. “How you feeling? Good?” Killua nods at him and goes to open his mouth before he’s cut off. “Great, glad to hear it. Next question, what the fuck did you do?”

Killua narrows his eyes at Zushi, an agitated look on his face. “What did I do?”

Zushi sighs as if the conversation is a huge waste of his time. “Yeah. Do you know how hard it is to make Gon upset? He’s, like, sickeningly joyful and happy all the fucking time. But after the party on Saturday when I saw him rushing out the door, I stopped him to talk and he looked like he had just seen his aunt get hit by a bus. And I know that didn’t happen because I texted her a bus emoji and a question mark and she replied asking me if I had actually meant to send that to her.”

Blinking at him a few times, dumbfounded, Killua opens and closes his mouth a few times, not quite sure where to start unpacking all of that. “Uh, okay. First of all, do you just casually text Mito?”

“Not the point,” Zushi rolls his eyes. “I’ve been to her house a bunch of times with Gon and sometimes she just likes to make sure that he’s okay without bothering him.”

“Alright,” Killua eyes him cautiously. “Well, yeah, I guess I initially thought that Gon was just a ray of fucking sunshine, but if you wanna talk about who fucked over who, maybe ask him what he did.”

“What do you mean?”

“Of course,” Killua mutters, looking to the sky. He runs a hand through his hair before continuing. “Gon can do no wrong, ever, so he has a perfect front. No one would ever believe he could possibly screw with somebody’s emotions. But, hey, maybe it’s more believable than him being with somebody so far out of his league in any sort of real way.”

Zushi just scrunches his eyebrows together, clearly confused. “What are you even talking about?”

Killua catches a glimpse of Coach Bisky walking across the field and figures he should go talk to her ahead of practice, so he tries to wrap up the conversation. “Look, I get that Gon’s your best friend and everything, but he seriously fucked with me. You can ask him for the details if you didn’t already know about his plan beforehand.” He lets out a frustrated breath as he starts to walk away.

“I’d love to, but I haven’t heard from him since Saturday.”

Killua stops in his tracks, just a few feet behind Zushi, and turns around. He cocks his head as he asks, “What? He hasn’t even been at the games?”

Shaking his head, Zushi says, “Nope. I have his location, so I know he’s at Mito’s, but seriously, radio silence. Nobody else has heard from him, and you’re the only person who could have possibly had such an effect on him.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean, exactly?” Killua crosses his arms in front of his chest. “That, of course, I must have upset him? Have you considered that he upset me and maybe he’s, I don’t know, feeling bad about leading me on or something?”

Zushi raises his eyebrows and tilts his head forward as if he’s clearly missing something. “Is this new? Can you even lead people on that you actually have feelings for?”

There’s the wave of nausea again.

“Oh, awesome,” Killua sneers, “so you were in on it, too. I thought you were my friend, Zushi.”

“In on what?!” Zushi throws his arms in the air, exasperated. “And I am your friend, you’re just making zero goddamn sense. Did I know that Gon has a thing for you? Yeah, pretty hard not to when he can’t shut the hell up about you for more than five minutes. Was I ‘in on’ the fact that he was too chicken to make a move, so I kept making fun of him and told him to maybe do something during the party? Yeah, sure, but I don’t know why you’re mad about that.”

Killua can feel his throat getting scratchy and heat rising to his cheeks and blood rushing in his ears, so he decides he needs to make a quick exit and stop talking about this.

“Look, I don’t know why the fuck you guys think this is so funny, or if Gon was lying to you, too, but he fucked with my feelings, embarrassed the shit out of me, and lied to me about my friends,” he says, his fingernails digging into his palms. “If he’s so upset because of the consequences of his own actions, then he deserves it. But I didn’t do anything to deserve being treated like that. Do me a favor and tell him that, if he ever answers you, because I’m not wasting my time.”

He turns back around and walks over towards the dugout to drop his stuff as Coach Bisky calls the team together to start practice. Killua faces the fence, wipes his eyes, and takes a few deep breaths before grabbing his glove and jogging over.

“Hey, kid,” Coach Bisky says with a soft smile. “You feeling better?”

Killua nods at her. “Yeah, for the most part. Thanks, Coach.”

“Glad to hear it,” she replies. “You and Gon must have caught the same thing. He’s been out since Sunday, too, but I’m sure you knew that.” Killua swallows and picks at one of his cuticles with his thumb. “I hope he’s doing alright.”

“Yeah,” Killua says distractedly, conflicted over the level of honesty in his response, “so do I.”

—

Wednesday and Thursday’s practices go by with no sight of Gon but about five different teammates asking Killua, specifically, about him. He’s not sure how many “I’m not sure, but I’m hoping he feels alright”s he’s got left in him by the time Friday rolls around when he’s thanking a higher power for inclement weather postponing the game until Saturday.

Throughout the week, the texts from Palm and Ikalgo hadn’t died down, per se, but they had become a lot… weirder. To any third party reading them, they’d look perfectly normal, but to Killua - famously a huge fan of any sort of emotional expression - he thought he would have to change his number and fall off the grid if these texts kept coming.

Palm Siberia: Killua, please, we love you so much and you mean the world to us. you’re our BEST FRIEND (but mine first). we’d never do anything intentionally to hurt you and we seriously are so sorry. (Wednesday, 9:46 AM)

Ikalgo Kai: what Palm said, do you know how hard it was for me to not tell you??? i tell you everything and it was killing me. you’re seriously my best friend (don’t listen to Palm, i love you more than she does) and i should’ve known that you’d be nothing but happy for me and i’m sorry for not knowing that and being an absolute moron (Wednesday, 10:02 AM)

Palm Siberia: we miss you at lunch so much, our table feels empty without you :( (Wednesday, 1:11 PM)

Ikalgo Kai: killuaaaaaaaa do i have to go 90s style and bring a boombox to your apartment and play it longingly outside your door??? bc for you i will. you’re my bestie for the restie. don’t forget that (Thursday, 4:57 PM)

Ikalgo Kai: I WILL SERIOUSLY KISS YOU ON THE MOUTH IF YOU JUST PLEASE FORGIVE ME (Thursday, 8:23 PM)

Ikalgo Kai: i’m realizing that that probably would make you even less likely to forgive me so… i WON’T kiss you on the mouth if you forgive me??? (Thursday, 8:28 PM)

On Friday night, just after he’s finished his pizza and is about to get ready for yet another night of watching TV on the couch under a giant blanket, he feels his phone buzz. He pulls it out of his pocket and, for the first time in a week, Killua sees a normal text from his friends.

Palm Siberia: you coming to the house tonight? the roads have already been cleared off so the walk actually wasn’t that bad. plus Iggy FINALLY hooked up the gaming console he got for Christmas and we wanted to play drunk mario kart

Palm Siberia: ugh. Ikalgo***

Palm Siberia: actually, no, fuck it. Iggy. because who cares  

For the first time in a week, Killua responds.

Killua Zoldyck: i get king boo.

Palm Siberia: you dirty rat. fine

Ikalgo Kai: bring your extra controller!!!

Killua could put more effort into his appearance, but it’s cold as fuck and he’s only going to see his friends. Plus, if they tried to comment on it, he’d just say, “Oh, sorry that I didn’t dress up, I’ve been depressed all week because my best friends lied to me”, and they’d shut up real fast.

The walk to the house really isn’t that bad; the roads were already salted and the wind had died down considerably. Killua’s wearing his black high-tops, hoping to scuff them up again and wear away any memory of last weekend, and he’s bundled up in black fleece joggers, a well-worn YC crewneck, and a winter coat with a fuzzy hood he could hibernate in. As he’s walking up the street and approaching the Eta Chi Eta house, he can’t help but notice Gon’s car in the driveway of his apartment. He figures Gon must have come back from Mito’s for the now-postponed game - he did go out of his way to test Zushi’s claims by walking home down this street after Wednesday’s practice and definitely didn’t see Gon’s car - and he simultaneously wants to turn around to go home and march up to Gon’s door, knock it down, and punch him in his stupidly-kissable face.

Instead, like somebody who can deal with his feelings like an adult, he heads into the frat house to go get hammered and play some video games with his best friends.

“Holy shit,” Ikalgo says as soon as Killua walks into his room. He drops his controller, absolutely lunges over Palm, and attacks Killua in an all-consuming bear hug. “I love you so much and I’m so sorry and I will never lie to you again and holy shit I could kiss you right now.”

Killua’s arms are pinned at his sides, at least as much as his winter coat will allow them to be, and he has an absolutely pained look of discomfort on his face. “I’m begging you to not.”

“Iggy, let go of him before you make him so uncomfortable that he actually never speaks to us again,” Palm says, and Ikalgo obliges, releasing Killua but taking only a small step back.

He looks at Killua with a soft expression and says, almost not convinced it’s true, “You came.”

Killua takes off his coat, tosses it onto Ikalgo’s bed, and shrugs. “It’s Friday.” Ikalgo smiles wide at that.

Palm pats the couch next to her, encouraging Killua to sit. When he does, she wraps a loose arm around his side, leans into him, and puts her head on his shoulder, briefly giving him a squeeze. “I’m so happy to see you.”

“Believe it or not,” Killua says, leaning his head down on top of hers, “I’m happy to see you guys too. At least mostly.”

“That’s fair,” she replies, sitting back up. Ikalgo tosses Killua a cider from the fridge which he wastes no time in opening while Palm keeps talking. “We can talk about it as much or as little as you want, but seriously, we really are so sorry. I hope you know that we would never have done it if we thought it would hurt you more than the alternative. We just really shouldn’t have assumed your feelings for you and kept such a big secret from you.” Ikalgo nods fervently.

“I know,” Killua sighs. “I know you didn’t mean to lie to me. Well, you meant to lie to me, but you thought you were being good friends by doing it.” He takes a quick sip of his drink. “You weren’t, to be clear - you were both really, really shitty - but I think you know that now.”

Ikalgo’s nodding seems to have only picked up in pace. “We do, we really do,” he replies. “We were really stupid about it and didn’t even think for more than, like, two seconds about the fact that it might hurt you. It’ll never happen again, I promise.”

It’s Palm’s turn to nod in agreement, a sincere look on her face. “Promise.”

Killua smiles at them both - the only genuine smile he’s cracked all week - before reaching back and grabbing the controller out of his coat pocket. “Now that that’s settled, you ready to get your asses kicked?”

Palm scoffs. “You wish.”

They play Mario Kart for hours and spend the time between rounds drinking, catching up on the ongoings of the past week, and Ikalgo and Palm finally telling Killua about how they got together. In Ikalgo’s words, their feelings had come to a head one Friday when Killua was sick just before Thanksgiving break and Palm had still come over to hang out. They didn’t remember exactly what they were talking about or who kept sitting closer to who, but eventually that night, they found themselves kissing on the couch and admitting their very hesitant feelings to each other, ultimately deciding that they would go on a few dates and see what happened.

In Palm’s words, Ikalgo blabbered on and on about his feelings until she kissed him to shut him up.

At first, they said, they really didn’t want anyone knowing, figuring it would be easier to figure out their potential relationship without anyone knowing or giving them their opinions. After a few weeks, once they finally decided they would officially start dating exclusively and be partners, is when they almost told Killua, but decided to hold off… indefinitely… due to falsely-crafted assumptions about his feelings on their part. As time went on, they really didn’t know when they could tell him and not have it go over poorly after having waited so long already, which is how they ended up where they did.

Nobody brings up the party and nobody brings up Gon, and for that, Killua’s grateful. He wants to know if they had spoken to him on Saturday after he stormed out of the house, but at the same time, he really does not want to know. So, their Gon-free Friday night is kept intact.

Until it isn’t.

The first indication to Killua that something is wrong is when Ikalgo squeaks in surprise, something he only ever does when he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t or when he walks in on Killua peeing.

The second indication is when he sees Palm look towards the doorframe and watches her eyes widen and her face drop.

The third indication to Killua that something is definitely wrong is when he faces the doorway himself and sees stupid, handsome, lying, intoxicating, fucking Gon Freecss standing in it with an expression riddled with nerves and despondency.

And behind him, Zushi, but his presence doesn’t really have all that much of an effect on anybody at the moment.

Killua immediately feels the prick behind his eyes and his jaw set as he goes to bury his nails into his fist again as it rests on the couch. Palm grabs his hand and squeezes it, keeping him grounded and his emotions at bay.

“Um, hi,” Gon says, and Killua has never heard his voice sound so… empty. He doesn’t seem to be holding eye contact with anyone, instead keeping his gaze fixed on the table in the center of the room, until he extends his arm and looks at Killua through glassy amber eyes. Killua looks down and sees a jacket - his jacket - that he had left at Gon’s apartment before the party. “I’m not staying, I just, uh.” Killua has also never heard him struggle this much with getting his words out or speak in such a dejected tone, and the closer he looks at Gon’s face, the more he notices the telltale puffy eyelids and reddened nose.

He had been crying, and Killua wants to both console him to make sure he’s okay and yell at him for thinking that he has any single right to be upset with how he treated Killua.

“I just wanted to give you your jacket back.”

Killua hesitates for a few seconds before reaching out and all but snatching the jacket out of Gon’s hand, grabbing it so fast that it might have looked like he had gotten shocked just from touching the same item as Gon at the same time.

“Thanks,” Killua mutters, his heart thumping in his chest while he stares at the jacket in his hands.

In his peripheral, he sees Gon standing in the doorway, feeling his gaze burning into the side of Killua’s head, until Gon bolts out of the room a few seconds later.

Zushi peeks into the room, points at Killua, and says, almost sympathetically, “I hope you know that the two of you are the dumbest motherfuckers I’ve ever met,” before jogging down the hall after Gon.

Well, that’s just crossing a line, now, isn’t it?

“Killua, where are you going?” Palm says as Killua stands up, grabs his other coat, and heads out the door.

As he crosses the threshold into the hallway, he mumbles, “I’ll grab my controller the next time I’m here,” before walking down the hall in the same direction as Zushi and Gon.

He peeks into Zushi’s room and sees the lights off, so he heads downstairs just as he hears the front door shut.

No fucking chance.

He tugs on his coat and heads outside, making a beeline across the grass and the driveway to Gon’s front door, and knocks hard.

Repeatedly.

Zushi opens the door with a look of pure shock on his face, but Killua speaks before he has the chance to. “I’m going inside.”

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea-”

“Zushi, I swear to fucking god, get the fuck out of my way, please.”

Clearly debating what to do, Zushi finally sighs. “Fine, okay? Fine, but just let me tell Gon I’m leaving. Wait here.” Killua steps inside to stand in the entryway of the building while Zushi heads down the hall and into Gon’s apartment. It’s only been a few days, not even a full week, but Killua feels like he hasn’t been here in forever and it’s doing something weird to his stupid heart.

Zushi comes back out after a minute or so and leaves the door open behind him. He walks down the hall and stops in front of Killua just beside the door.

“I know you won’t listen to me,” Zushi says in a hushed tone before doing a quick once-over his shoulder to make sure Gon’s not within hearing distance, “but he’s a hot mess right now and has no idea what happened between you two.” Killua scoffs derisively at that. “Again, I know you don’t believe me, but he doesn’t know what he did wrong. I don’t think you two are on the same page.”

“Clearly.”

Zushi sighs again, physically deflating. “Just go try to talk to him. You both have no idea how to communicate, I guess, and you’re making yourselves suffer because of it.” He goes to walk out the front door but stops in the entryway, turning around to face Killua. “You know Gon, probably better than me, so just hear him out. Please,” he adds before shutting the door behind him.

Killua takes a few steadying breaths and shakes out the jitters he feels in his hands before walking down the hall and into Gon’s apartment. He almost kicks his shoes off out of habit - almost - but tells himself he won’t be here too long and needs to be able to run the hell out of there if things get bad. He shuts the door behind him and sees no sign of Gon in the living room or the kitchen, but he does see that the wall behind the couch has an addition that he hadn’t noticed before. He walks over and gently drops his coat onto the couch before looking over the frames, ignoring the pang in his chest with each familiar photo he sees, before finding the new one.

It’s a photo of him and Gon from Christmas morning at Mito’s; they’re on the couch in their flannel pajama pants with torn wrapping paper all around them. Killua’s sitting with his legs crossed while Gon has his legs extended onto the ottoman of the couch and is leaning to the side, his head against Killua’s shoulder. His eyes are closed and he’s smiling, holding up a peace sign with his fingers, while Killua’s got a faint blush across his cheeks. He’s got a shy, surprised look on his face while his head is just slightly turned to the side, enough to look down at Gon.

Killua remembers the photo well. He and Gon had just opened up the matching crewnecks that Mito had gotten for them: Both custom-made with “CHIMERA ANTS BASEBALL” stitched across the front and their last names stitched across the back, but Killua’s in a deep shade of blue and Gon’s in a forest green. The photo was intended to be taken of them holding up their gifts, but Gon had grabbed the crewnecks, tossed them to the side, and ambushed Killua by leaning against him, shocking him into the expression he’s wearing in the picture. After, Gon kept his head on Killua’s shoulder, despite the failed attempts to shake him off, and they sat like that until Mito called them all to the table for breakfast.

At the time, Killua felt like his heart was going to hammer out of his chest and hoped that Gon didn’t notice. Now, looking at the memory, it just makes his chest hurt.

He hears the opening of a door and turns around to see Gon walking back from the bathroom, staring at the floor and scratching the side of his neck. Once he gets into the kitchen he seems to notice Killua’s presence by the way his head snaps up. He meets Killua’s eyes and he freezes, his own going wide.

The two of them just stare at each other for a few seconds, not quite sure what to say or where to start. Killua wants to open his mouth and yell, tell Gon how much he hurt him, how fucked up it was of him to play with Killua’s feelings, how shitty he is for knowing that, in his opinion, Killua had never had a real first kiss, and taking that from him in some twisted display of pity.

Instead, he opens his mouth and softly pushes out the only thing he thinks he’s capable of saying without his voice cracking. “Hi.”

Gon twists his lip to the side, playing with the bottom hem of his shirt and looking back down at the floor. “Hi,” he replies weakly, and after a few moments, brings his gaze back up to Killua’s face. “How are you?”

Killua feels his lip threaten to wobble and hardens his jaw in defiance. “You’ll be happy to know I’ve been having a really shitty time, actually.”

Furrowing his eyebrows, Gon asks, “What?” He takes a few steps forward but stops himself before he gets too close, seemingly noticing Killua flinch back. “Why would I be happy about that?”

“Just give it up, Gon,” Killua pleads, quickly feeling himself lose the self-control keeping his emotions at bay, “please. Haven’t you embarrassed me enough?”

“How did I embarrass you?”

“Come on,” Killua says, a little louder than intended. “Quit playing dumb. I don’t need your pity, you know. I was doing just fine on my own.”

Killua sees something overtake some of Gon’s facial features, now strained somewhere between anger and sadness. “Don’t call me dumb. I don’t know why you hate me all of a sudden, but if kissing me was so humiliating for you, then I’m sor-”

Cutting him off with a snide laugh, Killua interrupts. “Can you give me a fucking break? I seriously don’t know what I did to make you want to fuck with me, but I really don’t appreciate you continuing to lie to me about it now that it’s over.”

“What’s over?!” Gon exclaims, throwing his hands in the air, and Killua flinches again. “Our friendship? Yeah, I kind of got that hint when you blew up at me on Saturday for no reason.”

Killua narrows his eyes at Gon in absolute, frustrated confusion. “No reason? There’s actually no way you’re serious right now.”

“Do I look like I have a clue as to what the hell you’re talking about?”

Shaking his head, Killua spits out, “Stop acting like a fucking idiot and admit to me what you did. To my face.”

Gon’s top lip curls when he responds, “Stop calling me that. I don’t know what you need me to admit.”

“Why you kissed me, maybe?” Killua asks, his tone sarcastic and jeering. “Why you felt the need to play with me and my feelings when I was nothing but a good friend to you? Maybe you can tell me why lying to me about my friends wasn’t enough, so you had to go ahead and lie about how you felt, too?”

When he runs a frustrated hand through his hair, Killua can see just how red Gon’s face is. “I don’t know why you have this idea in your head that I ever lied to you about anything besides Palm and Ikalgo, and yeah, I’m sorry about that. But, I still stand by it, because they asked me to keep it to myself. Honestly, if you had ever asked me directly, I probably would have folded and told you, because I basically tell you everything else.”

Killua snorts. “Right. Everything except how you actually don’t give a shit about me.”

Scrunching his eyebrows together again, Gon scoffs. “Where did you get that impression from? Was it from when I spent almost all of my free time with you, or when I invited you home for Christmas, or when I kissed you at the party?”

“I cannot believe you’re still keeping this shit up,” Killua says, exasperated. “I know you just felt bad for me and you didn’t actually have any feelings for me like that, but you felt so bad that I did, and that my best friends were getting together. You threw me a pity party and decided to show me how it might feel to be wanted by somebody by lying and telling me that you also thought I was attractive, and by kissing me.”

“Why would you think any of that wasn’t real?” Gon’s looking at him like he’s grown an extra head in the past ten seconds, eyes narrowed in baffled confusion.

Killua sniffles. “Right, because it’s way more likely that you actually meant any of it.”

Gon just blinks at him a few times in stunned silence. “I… what? Yeah, I did. What made you think I didn’t?”

Looking up at the ceiling, Killua brings his thumb and forefinger and wipes them under his eyes towards his nose. “Let me ask you something. Did you know that Palm and Ikalgo were dating before or after Christmas break?”

Gon huffs and drags a hand down his face. “Before.”

“Right,” Killua nods. “And, just by chance, when we were at Mito’s for the holidays is when you decided to tell me you found me attractive.” He swears he sees Gon’s eye twitch.

“You literally also told me you found me attractive over Christmas break.”

His throat is getting scratchier and his voice is threatening to crack, and Killua is starting to wonder why he thought storming over here would help rather than hurt. “Only because you set me up and asked me. You made it so that I had to answer.”

“Jesus Christ, Killua,” Gon exclaims, audibly and visibly worked up, and Killua wishes that wasn’t how he had to hear Gon say his name for the first time in a week. “I don’t know how much clearer I can get, or why you seem to think that there’s literally any correlation at all between our situation and Ikalgo and Palm’s. You think I told you how I felt and that I kissed you because, what? I felt bad for you because your friends are dating? No offense, but I don’t see how their relationship has anything to do with you.” He tries to steady himself with one deep, shaky breath. “Do you need me to be more clear? Do I have to literally spell it out for you? What do I need to do to be more explicit about the fact that I have feelings fo-”

“Just shut the fuck up,” Killua cuts him off with an unsteady tone, hot tears finally managing to spill onto his cheeks. “I seriously cannot listen to you continue to lie to my face. If you think I’m gonna fall for it a second time, then you’ve got a few screws loose.”

“Call me stupid one more fucking time!” Gon shouts, and Killua feels all the frustration on his face be replaced with surprise. “Seriously, if you still don’t get it and you have this delusion in your head about me playing you or whatever the fuck, then you’re the idiot here, not me.” He shakes his head as he laughs off a single, wet sob. “I don’t know what else I can do to convince you, and honestly, with the way you’re talking to me right now, I don’t know why I’m even bothering. This is either some shit in the far back of your brain that’s convincing you that you’re, like, not good enough for me or something, so of course I couldn’t have actual feelings for you - which is bullshit, by the way. Or, you actually think you’re better than me, or at least smarter than me, and it’s not like that’s news, but maybe that’s a dealbreaker for you. But, instead of being honest about it, you draw out this long, elaborate fantasy to paint me as the bad guy.” Gon swipes a hand over his cheek, wiping away the tears sitting there. “Either way, I don’t care. I can’t. You still want nothing to do with me? Then just get the fuck out of my apartment.”

Killua stands there looking at him, unable to get himself to care enough to wipe away his own tears that keep finding their way onto his face. Gon is blurred through his dampened vision, but Killua can see the mixed look of anger and defeated sadness on his face. It’s almost enough to get him to break, believe everything that Gon’s telling him, and tell him how he actually feels.

Almost.

Instead, it serves to devastate Killua even more, and before he can think better of it, he delivers a low blow that he knows he can’t come back from. “No wonder your dad fucking left you behind.”

Killua watches the anger melt off of Gon’s face in an instant, an undeniably shattered and broken look appearing in its place, and knows he can’t stick around. He wants to apologize but isn’t convinced he can actually say anything else with how tight his throat feels. He can only look at Gon for a brief few seconds and try to communicate all of this through just the look in his eyes.

He feels his heartbeat picking up and his breaths shallowing and he knows he has to leave immediately or risk having an anxiety attack in Gon’s living room. Killua grabs his jacket and heads for the door but stops in the doorway, grabbing the frame and shutting his eyes as he takes in a few breaths in a futile attempt to stop the cries threatening to escape. He turns around to face Gon again and opens and closes his mouth a few times looking for something, anything to say so as not to leave things like that, not to leave him like that. All he can do is chew on his wobbly bottom lip and shake his head before mouthing “I’m sorry” and rushing down the hall and out of the building.

Killua makes it precisely three steps out the front door when it falls shut behind him and he lets out a loud, unbridled sob, wrapping his arms around his midsection with his jacket pressed to his torso. He can’t even move; he can only stand there, curling into himself, feeling his cries rip through him.

He hears some muffled voices before feeling two arms around him. He doesn’t even bother to look at who it is because, at this point, he really doesn’t care. Killua drops the jacket to his feet when he tightly wraps his arms back around the person. The blood rushing in his ears starts to slow and he hears Palm’s voice comforting him. “It’s okay,” she whispers, “it’s okay, you’re okay, you’re with me. It’ll be okay, I promise. I’ve got you.”

As they stand there and he vaguely registers Palm’s hand rubbing up and down his back in comforting strokes, Killua wishes it was Gon’s instead.

Chapter Text

The second game of Killua’s career is going about as well as anyone would expect for someone who just had a several-hours-long anxiety attack the night before.

However, the only people that know that are Ikalgo and Palm, so to everyone else, it looks like Killua is just shitting the bed on his second outing and actually looking like a rookie with no prior experience.

Saturday’s game started just after eleven in the morning which left Killua with about three actual hours of sleep after most of the night had been spent crying, experiencing bursts of shortened breathing, or lying in bed staring at the ceiling. It also isn’t helping that Gon is the catcher for today and their communication blockage has, unsurprisingly, extended into the game.

At the start of the game, Gon tried to call pitches, but Killua didn’t react and just threw whatever he wanted. By the fourth hitter, Gon let him figure it out and just crouched behind the plate with his glove out. Not only did Killua not know which pitches to throw for which players, but the pitches themselves were erratic and inconsistent. His curveballs were skating down the middle of the plate and getting rocketed into a base hit. His fastballs were fast, faster than usual, but their placement was lacking and most of them were falling outside of the strike zone.

It’s the third inning and he’s already given up four runs, two to home runs and the other two to a combination of walks and hits. At this point, he’s realizing that he never looked up if baseball has a mercy rule, and he wonders if trying to reach the threshold for it would make this end faster.

Coach Bisky calls for a visit to the mound which, unbeknownst to Killua, means the catcher has to visit, too. He had managed to avoid Gon thus far, asking Coach Nickes to help him warm up before the game and sitting as far away from Gon in the dugout as possible. But now, with this timeout, they were going to be in close proximity, and Killua wanted to throw up.

“Kid,” Bisky starts, “please don’t take this the wrong way, but you were throwing better pitches during your tryouts. What’s going on?”

Killua shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Coach. I don’t know what it is. I’m really trying.”

“I know you are,” she says, “and it’s not just on you.” Coach Bisky turns towards Gon. “Gon, what the hell is wrong with you today? I haven’t seen you make a single call since the first inning. You just letting Killua fend for himself up there?”

“Sorry, Coach,” Gon mutters, repeatedly tossing a ball into his glove. “I’ll make sure not to leave him behind the rest of the game.” He tugs his helmet down and trudges back towards home plate, leaving Bisky to shake her head in confusion and Killua to feel like he just got punched in the gut as he stares at the black “45” on the back of Gon’s jersey.

Coach Bisky sighs before lightly grabbing Killua by the shoulder and redirecting his attention back to her. “I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but whatever it is, figure it out later. Just try to get through one more inning before we pull in a relief pitcher. Zushi’s out sick, so we need to try to keep some arms light for the next few days.”

“Got it,” Killua says before Coach Bisky heads back to the dugout. He closes his eyes and takes in a breath before stepping back onto the rubber of the mound.

He brings his glove and his hand to just in front of his face as he looks at Gon for a sign - whether that be for the next pitch or to tell Killua that he doesn’t hate his guts, it doesn’t matter.

Gon decides to give him neither. He just holds out different fingers at a rapid pace, none of them actually meaning anything, and Killua sighs. He decides to go for a fastball inside the plate and ends up hitting the batter right in the elbow.

Coach Bisky pulls in a relief pitcher.

The game ends with the Ants having lost 8-2, an abysmal showing on both the offensive and defensive fronts. Killua’s glad that he wasn’t the only reason for the loss, and he’s especially smug about the fact that Gon struck out every single time he went up to bat - smug in a sad, longing kind of way.

Bisky had asked Killua to hang around for a few minutes after the game, which was really cutting into the time he had dedicated to crying in bed, but, what can you do? Once the rest of the team has cleared out after Coach Bisky’s post-game announcements, Killua can’t help but notice that he isn’t the only person staying behind.

He wonders if the universe will give him even one single break today.

“Boys,” Coach Bisky starts, glancing between Gon and Killua, “the two of you are clearly having some sort of communication problem.”

“Killua’s been communicating with me very clearly lately, actually,” Gon interrupts, a bite to his tone, and Killua swallows. “Maybe he’s just off his game.”

Coach Bisky gives him a careful look. “Watch the attitude, especially when you aren’t one to talk today with your performance.” She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Look, I know personal conflicts happen. I don’t know what happened, but it’s easy to tell that something is up when the two of you have gone from not being able to shut up around each other to not even glancing in the other’s direction. Do you need a referral to the school’s therapist or something for a session?”

“No,” the boys respond in unison. They glance at each other before Killua shifts his gaze to the ground.

“I’ll treat you both like adults and give you the opportunity to, at the very least, compartmentalize whatever’s going on between you two and separate it from your behavior on the field. If this is still a problem the next time you pitch,” Coach Bisky points at Killua, “and you catch for him,” she shifts her finger towards Gon, “which will likely be next Friday, you’re going to the school therapist before you’re allowed to play again. Both of you. And, if not, I will make sure it affects the validity of this counting towards gym credit or scholarships.”

Both of their jaws drop in disbelief. “Coach, I can’t take the scholarship hit,” Gon says.

“Yeah,” Killua starts, “if I don’t get the class credit, I can’t graduate in May.”

“I know,” she replies, clutching her clipboard to her chest. “Maybe then you’ll both take this seriously. And this isn’t just about the games. They’re important, but so are your personal relationships.” She glances between the two of them quickly as if she’s looking for something. “Alright, that’s it. Figure it out, rest up, and I’ll see you both on Monday.”

Killua furrows his eyebrows. “Don’t we have practice tomorrow?”

“Take the day off,” she replies, “both of you. You need it.” Coach Bisky heads towards the sports center, leaving Gon and Killua standing on the infield turf and staring at the ground. Killua chews on his bottom lip, not sure if he should just walk away or try to say something.

Gon makes the decision for him.

“Next game, just listen to my calls and we should be fine,” he says, eyes fixed on his cleats. “At least fine enough for Coach.”

Killua exhales softly, releasing his lip. “Gon-”

“See you Monday,” Gon interrupts, turning on a dime and walking off the field. Killua closes his eyes and drags a hand down his face, debating if he should wait a bit before walking home the exact same way as Gon.

Again, someone else makes the decision for him.

“Not a great outing, Killu.” He hears an all too familiar voice from over by the bleachers and feels his jaw clench impulsively. “I had high hopes, considering how I heard your first game went.”

Shit.

Killua turns around to see Illumi stalking over, already through the gate and approaching him on the field, and he flexes his fingers to try and keep himself from digging his nails into his palm.

“Why the fuck are you here?”

Illumi chuckles and stops just a few feet in front of his younger brother. “Didn’t I tell you I’d come to some of your games when I was able?”

Leering back at him, Killua replies, “Didn’t I tell you I didn’t want you to?”

“I just wanted to come to support my younger brother.” Illumi narrows his eyes with a smug smirk on his face. “I can see, based on your performance, that following in my footsteps isn’t quite in the cards for you.”

“It never was,” Killua spits out. “You know, I haven’t seen you in months; I thought that you had finally grown the fuck up and stopped feeling the need to watch us.”

Illumi smiles in response. To anyone else, it would seem sincere, but to Killua, it just serves to make his stomach churn with nerves. “Just because you haven’t seen me doesn’t mean I haven’t seen you, Killu. Or your new… friend.”

Killua can feel how his face drops, and maybe if he wasn’t in the middle of having one of the worst weekends of his life, he would’ve been able to stop it. “What?”

“The catcher,” Illumi says, nodding towards the direction Gon walked off in. “I’ve seen you two hanging around each other quite a bit; more so than with your sweet friend Palm, actually.”

“Leave Palm and Gon out of whatever stupid fucking vendetta you have against me,” Killua says, his tone sharp. “What do you want, anyway? What do you gain from knowing who I’m hanging out with?”

Illumi shrugs nonchalantly. “Just nice to have the information, should I need it.” He eyes Killua carefully. “Or, should I find anything important enough to report back to our parents.”

Killua frustratedly throws his hands in the air just in front of his chest. “Tell them whatever you want. I seriously could not care less. You, and them, mean nothing to me anymore, so I really don’t give a shit.”

“It looks like your sister’s rubbed off on you,” Illumi says, shaking his head. “Even worse than what I thought would happen when I found out you were letting her stay with you. Aren’t you embarrassed, Killu?”

Killua’s eye twitches. “About what, exactly?”

His older brother raises an eyebrow at him. “About the disgusting new lifestyle that you seem to be partaking in.”

“Say that again,” Killua challenges, his voice low. “Actually, be more specific so I have a better reason to punch you in the fucking face.”

Illumi huffs out a laugh and drops his head. “You need to find a nice girl to go out with to rid your mind of whatever sick delusions are swimming around in it. I can have my associate find some right here at YC-”

“Just shut the fuck up,” Killua says, feeling a lump rise in his throat. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“So you’re not associating yourself with Gon Freecss in a way I wouldn’t approve of?”

Hearing his full name sounds like a punch in the gut and he needs to go home now.

“I don’t give a shit what you would and wouldn’t approve of,” Killua says, struggling to keep his tone level. “Not like it’s any of your business, but Gon and I aren’t even friends anymore, so no need to worry.”

Illumi’s eyes brighten and he clasps his hands together. “Unsurprising, but I’m glad to hear it. I was wondering what a man with those kinds of looks and talents could possibly see in you. Even still, you have too much potential of your own with a name like Zoldyck to even risk being seen as lesser than like that.” Killua feels his lower lip wobble and runs his hand over his mouth. “I’ll let you go and enjoy the rest of your day. Would you like a ride home?”

“Fuck no,” Killua answers, softer than he intended. “I’ll walk.” He turns and starts to head back to his apartment and hears his brother’s parting words behind him.

“See you next time, Killu.”

—

Killua spends the rest of Saturday on the couch or in his bed, half-watching reruns of shows he’s seen before while lazily scrolling through his phone and looking at old photos of him and Gon from the past few months. Not that there were many - Killua didn’t exactly love cozying up to people for photos - but there were enough for him to longingly flip through. Most of them were candids sent to him by Palm, Ikalgo, or Alluka in the times that they hung out, and a handful had been taken at the request of Gon: Selfies when they were out grabbing food, snapshots from Christmas and New Year’s Eve, and funny pictures during their many, many “tutoring sessions”. Every photo sends a painful shot to his chest but he can’t stop looking at them. Killua wonders if this is what a breakup feels like, which he thinks is just ridiculous, but he can’t help but feel like the situation’s not all that far off from one.

Sunday rolls around and Killua spends it forcing himself to partake in his usual Sunday routine: Bagels with Alluka, shift at the bookstore, and the diner with Palm and Ikalgo. Though, when he walks into the diner late and sees two additional heads sitting at the booth, he feels his stomach drop.

Before he can spin around and bolt back out of the door, Palm runs over, grabs Killua’s wrist, and whispers, “Just trust us,” before dragging him to the table, sandwiching him between her and Ikalgo.

He hears Gon hiss, “What the fuck, Zushi,” as he sits in the booth without much of a choice and wonders if he can burn a hole into the table if he stares at it hard enough.

“Okay,” Zushi starts, ignoring Gon’s glare, “you’re probably wondering why you’re here.”

“I’m wondering why you’re here,” Killua corrects, feeling his pulse pick up. “We’re here every Sunday. It’s our thing.”

“Didn’t realize you owned the diner,” Gon mumbles. Killua thinks his blood might boil over but figures it’s a better feeling than the immense desolation he’s been enduring.

“Didn’t realize you cared enough to ask.” It’s a bad comeback, absolutely abysmal, and it barely makes any sense, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind, and he’ll be damned if he lets Gon get a dig in unanswered. Gon glares at him through narrowed eyes and Killua mirrors the expression. 

“Jesus Christ,” Palm says, waving her hand between them to try and break up the wall of tension they’re creating, “what is wrong with you two?”

“Ask Killua,” Gon says sharply. Killua tries to ignore how much he hates the way Gon’s saying his name. “I’m sure he has a list of things wrong with me ready to go.”

Killua raises an eyebrow at him. “I mean, yeah, I have a few. Should I start with how much of a dirty liar you are? Maybe how little of a shit you actually give about people? Or is that just me?” He sees Gon’s lip twitch.

“You’re seriously an idiot.”

“You must have rubbed off on me.”

“Okay, holy shit,” Ikalgo cuts in. “We thought you two would be, like, on the verge of tears and unable to talk to each other, not trying to rip each other a new one.”

Killua shifts his gaze to Ikalgo. “So, given that assumption, you thought ambushing us into getting dinner together was a good idea?”

Ikalgo opens and closes his mouth for a few seconds before scratching at the nape of his neck and saying softly, “Yeah, okay, fair.”

“You two need to chill the fuck out,” Zushi says, his nose audibly stuffy. Killua remembers Coach Bisky mentioning he was sick and hopes he catches whatever it is Zushi has to be able to miss some more practices. “We brought you guys here because we figured it was one of the only ways we could get you to talk to each other and sort your shit out. You both clearly aren’t on the same page about what went down at the party, and whatever happened a few days ago seems to have made it worse, so we’re here to mediate.”

“You wanna know what happened Friday?” Gon asks, his glare unwavering, and Killua swallows when Gon nods at him. “He can tell you.”

Killua closes his eyes and sighs. “I’m sorry for what I said, okay? I seriously didn’t mean it.”

Gon lets out a derisive laugh. “Sure, yeah, I’m glad you can apologize in front of your friends when they’re gonna have to find out about it.”

“You just left yesterday when I tried!” Killua replies. “You basically told me to fuck myself, listen to your calls during the game, and have nothing else to do with you. You wouldn’t even let me respond.”

Gon shrugs with one shoulder and shakes his head. “I wasn’t really interested in what you had to say.”

“Then you can’t get pissed at me for not apologizing earlier when you didn’t even give me the chance to!”

“Oh, sorry, please, I’ll let you tell me how I should react to you saying how unsurprised you are that my dad left.”

Killua shuts his eyes and exhales as he hears the rest of the table suck in a breath.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Zushi’s the one to break the silence; when Killua looks at him, he sees a look of pure disgust and anger, and he knows he deserves it.

“Oh, so this has gotten way worse than just you two being stupid about your feelings for each other,” Palm says, eyes flitting back and forth between the two in question. “Got it.”

Killua’s bouncing his leg under the table and mentally counting to four, seven, and eight, struggling to keep his breathing in line and feeling everyone’s eyes on him. He can’t bear to look back at anyone and instead returns to focusing intently on the center of the table.

The waitress comes over to take their order and Killua wonders if she can feel the tension in their voices as everyone goes around the table and asks for what they want to eat. He thinks he might be sick if he eats anything, so he just shakes his head and says, “I’m all set, thanks.”

The interruption seems to have softened the air around the table just enough for the initial wave of shock to wear away when Zushi speaks again. “Dude,” he starts, and Killua looks up at him, “I know you’re not actually that much of a dick and you probably didn’t mean it, but that is super fucked up. Even if you still thought Gon was, like, playing you or whatever.”

Killua runs a nervous hand through his hair, leg still bouncing under the table, as his head hangs. “I know,” he says softly, worried that speaking any louder would give away the shake in his voice. “I shouldn’t have said it and I regretted it as soon as I did and I’m sorry. I know that’s not good enough,” he briefly peeks up through his eyelashes at Gon, who’s looking back at him with a hard expression, “and I know I can’t take it back, but I wish I could. I didn’t mean it at all and I’m really fucking sorry for making you think that even for a second I believed it. It’s not an excuse, but I was just-” His voice trembles and he stops, sniffing in a breath before continuing. “I was so hurt by what you did. Even still, what I said was way worse than that, so I’m sorry.”

Nobody talks and Killua’s shaky breaths are the loudest sound at the table. He closes his eyes as he tries to steady himself and he feels Palm and Ikalgo each rub a comforting hand on his back, briefly thinking about how shitty it is that he’s the one being consoled while apologizing for something that he did.

A few more seconds of silence pass by before anyone says anything.

“Thanks.”

Killua looks up at Gon through surprised eyes and notices his looking glassy.“I guess I knew you didn’t mean it,” he adds, “but it still hurt.”

“I know.” Killua nods once, twice.

“And,” Gon continues, “I’m still hurt by the fact you think I was stringing you along emotionally or something. Do you really think I’m that shitty?”

Killua shakes his head, dropping his gaze back down to the table. “No.”

“Then why did you think I was playing you?”

He feels the dam about to break and cannot, cannot have this conversation again, so all he does is shake his head rapidly as his breathing picks up. He hears Illumi in his head and, against his better judgment, replays his older brother’s confirmation that he’s just not good enough for Gon.

Killua sucks his bottom lip back into his mouth to chew on as he feels tears welling in his eyes. He shakes his head rapidly as he stares intently at the placemat in front of Gon while finding a way to speak up, even if just above a whisper. “I need to pee.”

Palm, the one blocking him in, looks at him. “Killua-”

Gon interrupts. “Let him, please.”

Palm scurries out of the booth and Killua makes a beeline for the bathroom, hoping that the empty diner is any indication that the bathroom will look the same. He barges in just quickly enough to shut the door behind him before a choked sob escapes. He looks up to the ceiling and just cries, willing his brain to either let him cry it out or throw him into an anxiety attack, but for the love of god, not both at the same time again.

Killua’s not sure how long he’s in the bathroom, trying and failing to calm himself down, when he hears the door open behind him. He jumps and spins around in surprise to see Gon standing there, concern written all over his face. As if possible, seeing him there makes Killua feel both better and worse.

“Please leave,” Killua squeaks out between hiccupped cries with his arms wrapped around his front.

Gon pleads with him. “Killua, let me help you, please.”

This just serves to send a sharper cry out of Killua’s mouth and more negative thoughts piercing through his brain. You’re not good enough for him, you made him feel like shit, you don’t deserve to be forgiven, you’re too fucked up to be anything more than a pitied, one-night regret. Killua breaths heavily and shakes his head as tears continue to fall out of the eyes he’s clamped shut, wishing that this was a dream and, if he cried hard enough, that he’d wake up in his bed.

He flinches at a hand on his shoulder and opens his eyes to see Gon right in front of him.

“Please breathe with me,” Gon says, and Killua needs to get out of there.

He jolts back out of the light grasp and looks at Gon for just a few seconds, mustering up just enough of a breath to push out a sentence in between his own cries that are echoing in his ears. “If I were you, I’d feel bad for someone like me, too.”

Killua snakes around Gon to the door and opens it, whispering out, “You could do better,” before rushing out towards the restaurant exit and leaving without another word.

Chapter Text

Unfortunately for Killua, he doesn’t catch whatever illness Zushi had, but he figures that’s probably a good thing since there are only so many times he can actually miss his obligations. Fortunately for Killua, Zushi, Palm, and Ikalgo don’t hold his swift exit from the diner on Sunday against him, and, for the most part, the week passes by normally.

Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday’s games come and go and he spends them all sitting anxiously in the dugout. Gon only plays in one of the three, so on Monday and Wednesday, Killua hopes that Gon doesn’t try to talk to him while the rest of the team is on the field.

He doesn’t.

He does, however, sneak glances, and Killua notices. Killua feels Gon’s eyes on him all week; when he’s nervously chewing on his bottom lip during a close game, when he’s avoiding Gon’s eyes during post-game meetings, and when he’s picking at his cuticle during the announcements of that day’s players. He wishes Gon would look literally anywhere else but finds a bright side in the fact that his gaze makes Killua feel warmer by just enough to not be shivering in the winter cold.

The Ants sweep the series and Coach Bisky gives them all Thursday off as a reward, telling the team to be ready for Friday’s game and looking pointedly at Gon and Killua. That time, the only time this week thus far, Killua looks back at Gon.

They both visibly gulp.

Killua spends his newly-free Thursday evening lying in bed, giving himself some more time to fall asleep as he anticipates having a hard time doing so for the seventh night in a row. He’s got some music playing from the speaker sitting on his dresser in hopes of it helping him relax; which, it might, if he wasn’t exclusively playing alternative rock. Palm, Ikalgo, and Alluka know that he’s called it a night and likely won’t be sending him any texts.

Which is why he’s so surprised when his phone lights up with one.

Gon ⚾ Freecss: how are you?

Killua twists his lips to the side as he holds his phone above his face, the dim glow illuminating his face in the dark of his bedroom. He takes a breath and sits up, leaning back against his headboard to type and delete for several minutes before finally sending a decent response.

Killua ⚾ Zoldyck: fine

Decent, he figured, not wordy.

His phone lights up again less than a minute later.

Gon ⚾ Freecss: that’s good

Gon ⚾ Freecss: well i guess it’s not good, it’s fin

Gon ⚾ Freecss: fine***

Gon ⚾ Freecss: sorry

Killua sighs, a hint of a smile tugging at his face, and types back.

Killua ⚾ Zoldyck: lol

Killua ⚾ Zoldyck: why are you apologizing

Gon ⚾ Freecss: that’s a loaded question

Killua ⚾ Zoldyck: unload away.

He’s not sure why he invited the conversation to expand, let alone answered the text in the first place, but with Gon already typing back, it’s too late to back out now. Needing to do something other than watch the three dots continue to disappear and reappear in their messages, Killua sinks down, rolls onto his stomach, and clicks open to one of the many baseball highlights videos Gon has sent him in the past that he never bothered to watch. Not that he particularly finds them any more interesting than in the past, but he can, at the very least, understand what’s going on and appreciate some good plays when he sees them.

Killua makes it halfway through the first video and thinks that Gon must have fallen asleep before he sees the notification pop up at the top of his screen. He clicks back into their messages to see a paragraph extending beyond the length of the screen and more bubbles.

Gon ⚾ Freecss: i guess i’m sorry for a few things. first, sorry that you’re just doing fine bc i know that means shitty. and i’m doing shitty too. i’m also sorry i made you uncomfortable and made you feel like i was leading you on or something. i never was. or i guess i never meant to because i guess i could have done that accidentally. i didn’t want to fuck up our friendship bc you’re really important to me and honestly my best friend and i should have thought through what i was doing. i’m sorry i didn’t tell you about Palm and Ikalgo, but that one only kind of, because they did ask me to keep it a secret, but honestly i should have just said to them right away that i was uncomfortable with that because i don’t like keeping things from you.

Gon ⚾ Freecss: which i guess goes into the next thing i’m sorry about and that’s not being clear about my feelings sooner. i can see why you thought it was all conveniently timed and sketchy and i know that even if i can convince you that that’s not true, things have gotten so bad between us as a result of what happened and i would rather act like all of that never happened if it means we can just go back to normal again

Gon ⚾ Freecss: because i really fucking miss you

Killua watches a tear drop onto his screen and quickly wipes his hand over his cheek; he’s cried more times in the last week and a half than in, probably, the last six years total, and he’s quite frankly sick of it. He sniffles and shakes his head quickly before typing back.

Killua ⚾ Zoldyck: i’m sorry too. i know i said it at the diner but i really didn’t mean what i said. it’s not an excuse, but i was really fucking overwhelmed and upset and thought you were intentionally fucking with me. again, i know it’s not an excuse and it doesn’t make it ok, but. yeah. idk. i’m really sorry.

Killua ⚾ Zoldyck: also, i agree. about wanting to go back to normal and be friends again.

That last part isn’t wholly true if the pang in Killua’s chest has anything to say about it, but truthfully, he would rather be friends with Gon and longing for something more in the deep, repressed parts of his heart and brain than not be able to be near Gon at all.

Killua ⚾ Zoldyck: also, i really fucking miss you too.

Gon ⚾ Freecss: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! fksdhfjkshdfjckshafjkhcjkh

Killua snorts.

Killua ⚾ Zoldyck: you good?

Gon ⚾ Freecss: yeah yeah yeah 

Gon ⚾ Freecss: omg

Gon ⚾ Freecss: ok

Gon ⚾ Freecss: i’m just really glad you felt the same way!!!

Gon ⚾ Freecss: also you admitted you miss me which is like the only sappy emotion i’m gonna be able to get out of you for probably the next three months

Killua ⚾ Zoldyck: who says i’ll be talking to you in three months?

Gon ⚾ Freecss: that’s mean :( 

Killua ⚾ Zoldyck: lol i’m kidding

Killua ⚾ Zoldyck: mostly

Killua ⚾ Zoldyck: don’t start bombarding me with affection or hugs or anything though. otherwise i’m out

Gon ⚾ Freecss: whateverrrrrr you say kil

Gon ⚾ Freecss: lua

Gon ⚾ Freecss: fuck

Killua bites his lip to hold in a laugh and shakes his head at his phone.

Killua ⚾ Zoldyck: you act like my name’s got the plague or something

Gon ⚾ Freecss: just don’t wanna make you uncomfortable

Killua ⚾ Zoldyck: you’re not.

He starts typing a second message and catches himself right before hitting send, letting himself think about it for a second too long and deleting it.

Killua ⚾ Zoldyck: i like it when you call me that

Gon ⚾ Freecss: ok. just making sure

Gon ⚾ Freecss: i’m gonna sleep, i’ve been sleeping like shit for days tbh

Gon ⚾ Freecss: see you tomorrow! goodnight! 

Killua ⚾ Zoldyck: yup. i know the feeling

Killua ⚾ Zoldyck: night, Gon

Killua plugs his phone in and tosses it onto his nightstand before rolling over and closing his eyes, a soft smile sneaking its way onto his face as he drifts off.

It’s the best sleep he’s had in seven nights.

Chapter Text

Friday’s game rolls around and it’s the first night game that Killua’s pitching. Being a night game in March, it’s also still bitterly cold without any sun to warm up the air, and Killua’s fingers feel like icicles. He knows he’s only a few weeks into the season, but he can’t believe how much he’s still learning about the game.

Today, what he learns is that whoever created this goddamn sport wants him to freeze to death.

“I seriously can’t wear a glove on my hand?” Killua whines. “How would that even help me anyway?”

Gon shrugs. “Pitch grip.”

Killua huffs. “Fuck that. My fingers are gonna fall off!”

“You can wear gloves in the dugout!”

“Dumb.”

He and Gon are warming up in the bullpen just ahead of the game and the floodlights above them are damn near blinding, yet necessary, given the fact that it’s pitch black outside at this time of year. Killua had gotten to the fields early, his excitement outweighing his nerves for the first game this season, and Gon had arrived shortly thereafter. When he did, Killua decided that he had spoken too soon as the nerves flooded back in. Are we good now, technically? Should I go up and hug him? I don’t think I’ve ever initiated a hug with him. A high five? Also never done that. I can’t ignore him, though, can I? What if he ignores me? Oh, god, what if he comes up and hugs me hello and I have to hug him back and he can tell that my heart’s beating way faster than usual?

Needless to say, Killua’s plan of staying friends with Gon and once again repressing his feelings was starting off strong before even having seen Gon in person since crafting said plan.

Also needless to say, with Gon being Gon, things were excessively normal once he arrived. Killua could see his eyes light up from across the field and he ran over to spin Killua around in a crushing hug during which Killua squeaked out, “Please put me down, I can’t breathe.”

“Alright, boys, head over to the dugout,” Coach Bisky shouts into the bullpen, and Killua and Gon grab their things together. They go to make their way out before they’re stopped at the gate.

“You two seem much better,” Bisky notes with a smile on her face. “Sorted out your conflict, then?”

The boys smile at each other before Gon puts an arm around Killua’s shoulder and answers. “Definitely! Crazy what some talking it out can do.”

Coach Bisky’s smile grows as she smacks her clipboard, eliciting a jump from Killua. “Glad to hear it! Congrats.” She turns to walk out of the bullpen but stops just a few feet ahead, spinning around with her eyes now narrowed at them. “As a warning, the sports center and fields all have cameras around them, so don’t try anything.”

Killua furrows his eyebrows and looks at Gon who’s donning the same expression before turning back to Coach Bisky. “Sorry, Coach, what?”

Bisky eyes them carefully. “I mean, no funny business.” The boys stare blankly back at her and she sighs. She clarifies, in a hushed voice, “No hooking up in any of the athletic spaces.”

Killua watches Gon’s jaw drop while he feels his own face go hot and he tries to stutter out an argument. “I, uh, Coach, we’re not, um-”

“We’re not dating,” Gon cuts in and clarifies.

Coach Bisky glances between them both for a few seconds. “Hm,” she nods. “Well, that’s a little strange to me, but that’s none of my business. I don’t care what you’re calling yourselves, just don’t do it.” She turns back around and heads toward the dugout, leaving Gon and Killua standing there with shocked expressions on their faces.

“Do you know why-”

“No,” Killua replies.

“Okay. Same,” Gon agrees.

“Cool.”

“Nice.”

As mentioned earlier, things between Gon and Killua were excessively normal.

—

The game that night went phenomenally and the Ants secured their fourth straight win thanks to a shutout game thrown by Killua and Zushi. Killua pitched all the way through the seventh inning, allowing only three hits and no earned runs, until Zushi came in and got the job done to close out the game.

The next month or so passes in a blur of games, classes, and returning to normalcy with Gon. After the game in March, they managed to quickly fall back into their old routine. Their performance together in-game is impressively clean and Coach Bisky refuses to pair any other catcher with Killua, citing their communication and chemistry. The stands slowly fill out more and more with every game the two of them play together as word spreads of the rookie throwing near-flawless games against even the best of their rivals and the team captain on a hot streak at the plate, having broken the YC Chimera record for most home runs in a season in just five weeks.

Off the field, Gon and Killua were back to being inseparable. He no longer cherished his “Gon-free” Friday nights, instead inviting Zushi and Gon to join him, Palm, and Ikalgo more often than not. His lunch table for three was running out of space with how frequently Gon, Zushi, and Alluka joined. Their tutoring sessions, lately having nothing to do with baseball and everything to do with just wanting to spend time with each other, were happening several days a week for hours at a time, even with the commitments of games, practices, work, and other friends.

Killua had gotten comfortable with the state of his repressed emotions and he managed to keep his pulse from jumping every time Gon touched him in completely-platonic ways. Though every once in a while he longed for more, he heard his brother’s words in his head, albeit quieter than before, and remembered what happened the last time they tried to act on things, and that seemed to shut his brain up pretty quickly.

Now, in April, the weather was finally starting to warm up and the sun starting to set later, making games manageable at any time of day. Today’s Saturday game was the last before spring break and the crowd was absolutely buzzing at the performance thus far from the Ants; most notably, Killua.

The game was going well with Killua having given up no hits through the first six innings and the Ants offense putting up five runs. Coach Bisky had let Killua know that she was planning on keeping him in as long as he wanted to stay and that he was on track to throw a perfect game if he could make it through just nine more hitters without allowing a hit or a walk - no pressure, of course. Killua felt confident in his capabilities and planned on getting his perfect game, goddamn it, no matter what, because he knew he and Gon could make it through the opposing lineup just one more time.

Until things threaten to fall apart just before the seventh inning.

Killua’s standing in the dugout on the end near the bleachers and lazily watching the top of the Ants lineup go up to bat when he feels a poke to his shoulder. He spins around to see Alluka standing on the other side of the fence with tears in her eyes.

His own eyes go wide as he gets closer to her through the fence. “Alluka, what’s wrong? What happened? Are you okay?”

Alluka sniffles and Killua notices her bottom lip wobble. “Illumi’s here.”

Killua feels his stomach turn and his face drop as he peers behind Alluka to see Illumi standing at the far end of the bleachers, a content smile on his face as he raises his hand and wiggles his fingers in a lazy greeting.

“What did he fucking say to you?” Killua seethes, feeling his heart rate pick up. “I swear to god I’ll beat the shit out of him right now.”

“No, brother,” Alluka replies, shaking her head. “I’m fine. It’s nothing I haven’t heard from him about me before. It’s just,” she coughs, “it’s just what he said about you that made me so upset.”

“Don’t worry about me,” he replies. “I can handle it. But I don’t want you here right now.” Alluka opens her mouth to argue, but Killua beats her to it. “No. I don’t care. I appreciate you coming out to watch me, but you don’t need to deal with this shit anymore. I’ll talk to him after if he’s still here. In the meantime, go back to Palm and Ikalgo and ask them to take you somewhere. Our apartment, the Eta house, I don’t care. Just not here.”

A beat passes before Alluka wipes a hand across her cheek and responds. “How about this, I’ll go find them and sit with them. If I see him walk over, we’ll leave immediately.” She must notice the look in Killua’s eyes because she adds on quickly, “Please? I’m sick of him controlling what I can do and where I can go. And what I want to do is to watch you play here.”

Killua sucks in a deep breath before nodding. “Fine, yeah, okay.” He puts his hand to the fence and she mirrors him, giving her fingers a quick squeeze. “I’m serious. Be smart about it. And thanks for coming again.”

Alluka gives him a small smile. “Always.” Killua watches her climb up the bleachers to meet Palm and Ikalgo and figures she must be recounting what’s going on by the way they look over towards Illumi and then down at him in the dugout. He throws them a thumbs up and a tight smile before turning around and jumping at the sight of Gon no more than a foot away from him.

“Hey,” Gon starts, but his smile drops when he notices Killua’s face. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Shaking his head, Killua replies, “Nothing. It’s stupid.”

Gon grabs his shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “Tell me, please. What’s up?”

Killua sighs. “Illumi’s here and he said some shit to my sister. I don’t know what - she wouldn’t tell me - but something that he apparently said about me was enough to get her upset, so I told her to go find Palm and Ikalgo and sit with them, and that if he comes near her, she needs to leave.”

“Can I do anything?”

“Can you punch my brother in the face?” Killua laughs. “No, not really. He’s the worst and he won’t leave us the fuck alone, but that’s not exactly new, and it’s not like anything can really be done about it at this point.” He looks up at Gon and is met with sympathetic eyes. “It’s fine. You know what you can do? Get me my perfect game.”

Gon laughs, letting his head fall, and Killua can’t help but smile at the small pieces of hair that managed to find their way out of Gon’s thin sport headband and fall onto his forehead. “Yeah,” Gon replies, “I’m trying my damn best. Just keep doing what you’re doing and I’ll keep wiggling my fingers.”

Killua snorts. “Sounds like a plan.”

The two make their way onto the field to hopefully have another one, two, three inning, and Killua keeps his eyes off the bleachers and on Gon behind the plate. The top of the order makes its way up to the plate and Gon calls for the exact same set of pitches that struck the hitter out the last two times: A fastball on the outside, a slider down the middle, and a curveball on the inside. For the third time that night, the lead-off hitter strikes out, and the stands are letting the Ants know how huge that is.

A hard swing from the next hitter makes contact and Killua holds his breath, but the shortstop makes a leaping catch and keeps the streak alive. The third hitter is called out on a harsh foul tip right into Gon’s glove, and just like that, nine hitters left quickly turn into six.

Killua makes his way off the mound and back towards the dugout when he hears his name being called.

“Over here, Killu.”

He turns and hardens his gaze at Illumi before exhaling frustratedly and jogging over to the fence.

“What do you want?” Killua asks harshly. “I need to get back.”

“I know, I won’t keep you for long,” Illumi replies. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m here and I’m rooting for your perfect game, despite the fact that you lied to me.”

Killua huffs and rolls his eyes. “I don’t care enough about you to lie to you, so I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

His older brother smiles and narrows his eyes. “I thought you and that Freecss boy weren’t friends anymore?”

He gulps in response.

“We sorted our shit out,” Killua says, “as if it matters to you.”

“Oh, it does,” Illumi replies. “I care about you and your reputation, you know. But, are you kidding yourself again into thinking he wants anything to do with you? If anything, you’re a project for him.”

Killua sneers back at him and wills his voice to stay steady. “Shut the fuck up. You’re wrong.”

“Poor Killu, the newcomer onto the team with only two friends and a freak for a sister,” Illumi muses, shaking his head. “It shouldn’t be so surprising that the captain’s gone ahead and taken in a stray for good optics.”

“Killua!” Killua turns his head to see Coach Bisky waving her hand at him to come into the dugout.

“I’ve gotta go,” he pushes out to his brother before turning around to head back, breathing heavily.

“See you after the game!” his brother shouts back, and Killua clenches his fist.

He makes his way back into the dugout and sits on the bench, twisting his face and bouncing his leg in an effort to keep his emotions strictly inside while he hears his brother’s voice echoing inside his head. Killua clamps his eyes shut in a futile effort to shut internal-Illumi up and to anyone else, it might look like he’s just intensely trying to keep his cool and calm his nerves before the next inning.

But Gon isn’t anyone else.

“What did he say to you?” Killua opens his eyes and turns his head to see Gon sitting next to him, his jaw set.

Killua just shakes his head in response. “It was nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like it was nothing.” Gon’s staring at him intently as he’s slowly steadying his breathing. “Whatever it is, he’s just trying to get inside your head.” Trying, succeeding; same thing. “You said it yourself, he’s an asshole who just lives to torment you and Alluka, so anything he’s saying is just a load of shit.”

After a few seconds of silence, Killua replies. “Yeah,” he says weakly, “you’re probably right.”

“I’m definitely right,” Gon corrects, nudging Killua’s knee with his own. “Just try and focus on the game, yeah? Two more innings just like how you’ve been doing and you’re golden.”

Killua nods. “Yup. Six more.”

Gon smiles at him. “Six more.” He looks out to the field to see who’s on deck to hit next. “I’ve gotta get ready in case I get up to bat this inning.” Gon stands and puts a hand on Killua’s shoulder. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m okay,” Killua says softly. “Thanks.” Gon gives him a squeeze and walks away to put his helmet on, leaving Killua to sit and silence the voices in his head himself.

The Ants manage to put up another run in the seventh inning, extending their lead, and Killua gets through the eighth inning once again unscathed, though it was close. The first batter hit a line drive that fell just foul before striking out looking and the third batter tapped the ball so softly that, had Gon not lunged at the ball before tossing it to the first baseman to throw the runner out by just a few inches, that would’ve been the end of the perfect streak. Gon manages to get on base in the eighth inning but is left stranded and doesn’t score, though he doesn’t seem to mind very much considering the very real possibility that his team is three outs away from an absolutely dominating win.

Killua walks out for the top of the ninth and the crowd is buzzing. Fans are shouting so loud that it almost blocks out his brother’s voice in his head and he’s acutely aware of just how close he is to bringing this home. He’s feeling just slightly better than he was in the previous inning, and his pitching shows as he strikes out the first batter in three pitches, all curveballs, all perfectly falling on different corners of the strikezone. The second batter pops up into foul territory and is easily caught by Gon, causing the crowd to erupt. Everyone there knows that the perfect game is so close they can almost taste it, and while they’re excited about the incoming win, they seem even more excited for the feat Killua’s about to achieve for himself.

The third and hopefully final hitter comes up to bat and Killua takes in a breath as Gon calls for a changeup on the outside. Killua nods and is about to wind up when he hears one voice in particular break through the noise of the crowd.

“One more, Killu!” he hears Illumi shout and refuses to turn to look, trying his damnedest to block it out. He can hear the smug smile on his older brother’s face. “Trust your gut!”

Killua shakes his head and waves his hand to call for a timeout before stepping off of the rubber and looking at the ground, taking a few steps around the mound. He hears Gon jog up to the mound behind him.

“Hey,” he says, and Killua looks up at him. “I told you earlier, don’t listen to him. He’s clearly trying to throw you off your game, but look how far you’ve made it. You have one more out to get, and it’s the bottom of the lineup. You got this.” Killua drags a hand down the side of his face before taking another deep breath in.

“Thanks,” he says, just above a whisper. “One more.”

Gon grabs his upper arm and gives it a squeeze before jogging back to the plate. Killua gets settled back on top of the rubber and they start again.

Killua gets the same call from Gon as before - a changeup on the outside - and nods before winding up and throwing.

“Ball!”

It floats in just a few inches off the plate and Killua huffs out a frustrated breath before Gon tosses the ball back and he gets set up again. Gon calls for a curveball down the middle and Killua nods again. He lines himself up and throws.

“Ball!”

The ball falls just under the hitter’s knees and suddenly Killua’s down in the count. He catches the ball from Gon and shakes his head at the ground, upset with himself for too many reasons to unpack in this situation. All he can do is focus on the third pitch, which Gon calls as a fastball on the inside. Killua winds up and throws.

“Ball!”

“Fuck!” Killua says, just loud enough for maybe the first baseman to hear, and gets the ball thrown back to him. He drags a heavy hand down over his nose and mouth and barely registers Coach Bisky calling for a timeout before she and Gon jog up to the mound.

“Hey,” Bisky starts with a hand on Killua’s shoulder, “you’re doing great. You can still come back in this, but even if you don’t, that doesn’t minimize what you’ve already accomplished during this game. Your performance has been spectacular and we’re all proud of you.” Killua looks up and sees Gon nodding in agreement.

“You’re doing fucking incredible, Kil,” Gon says, and Killua feels light for a few moments. “Sorry, Coach.”

Coach Bisky laughs. “I’ll allow it,” she replies, dropping her arm. “Gon’s right. You are doing fucking incredible. Now keep being incredible and get the final out.”

He nods and Bisky and Gon leave the mound, leaving him to his thoughts. The batter gets set back up in the box and Killua shakes out his left arm, hoping some of the nerves will dissipate. Gon looks back once he gets to the plate and gives him a warm smile before pulling his mask back down, and Killua feels like he might actually be able to come back from this.

Gon calls for a fastball down the middle. It’s a risky throw with the batter being up in the count since it’s a clean hit waiting to happen if he makes contact, but it’s a risk Killua’s willing to take, and he nods.

Killua adjusts his grip and brings his hands up near his face. He lifts his right leg to his chest, winds up, and throws.

“Strike!”

The crowd cheers and, once again, Killua feels a little lighter. He pumps his fist in front of him before Gon tosses back the ball and shoots him a thumbs up.

Two more.

Gon calls for a changeup on the inside and Killua nods, swallowing down the nervous lump in his throat. He winds up and throws.

A swing and a miss.

Everyone in the stands is on their feet, Killua notices, after he gets the ball back and turns to get set back up on the rubber. They’re louder than before and Killua zeros in on Alluka, Palm, and Ikalgo, all clapping and shouting for him from their spot in the bleachers.

One more pitch.

It’s a full count, a dangerous position for both himself and the hitter, and he knows he’ll likely need to take another risk to close this out. Killua twists the ball in his hand as he waits for Gon to call a pitch.

He doesn’t.

Killua can’t help the laugh that escapes his lips as he drops his head, shaking it in amusement.

Of course you do this to me now, he thinks.

He opts for a curveball on the upper outside corner. It’s risky for multiple reasons - it could cross the plate too high, it could fall off to the side, or it could fall just low enough for the hitter to make perfect contact - but it’s what he thinks is the right decision.

After all, his brother did tell him to trust his gut.

Killua sucks in a breath, winds up, and throws, staring at the ball the entire way.

He holds his breath as the ball approaches the plate.

He holds his breath as the hitter makes contact.

He even holds his breath when he sees the ball coming right back at him and panics, bringing his glove in front of his face as a reflex.

Killua feels something in his glove and, after a moment, brings it away from his face and turns it up to look.

Inside the palm of his glove sits the ball. He caught the ball, he got the hitter out, and he got his perfect game by instinctually bringing his hands to his face out of sheer terror of getting his nose broken from a line drive.

Sounds about right.

The fans cheer and the Ants clear the dugout, the entire team rushing towards the mound to celebrate their win but, more importantly, Killua’s.

Killua jolts in shock as he feels ice-cold water being dumped over his head in celebration, a tradition he had hoped to never partake in, but right now, he can’t seem to bring himself to care. His team is crowded around him, clapping him on the back and throwing their arms around him, and the energy in the stands is electric.

Gon pushes his way through the rest of the team and makes eye contact with Killua, a wide smile on his face. He breathes out a laugh and rushes in to hug Killua, lift him up, and spin him around.

“You fucking did it!” Gon shouts into Killua’s ear. Killua laughs as he’s spun around a bit more before Gon lets him down but doesn’t let him go. He speaks up again, a bit softer. “You did it. That was incredible, Kil. I-” he cuts himself off with a chuckle and a shake of his head, and Killua can’t help but notice the flush to Gon’s cheeks. “You were incredible.”

He smiles back and feels the heat rise to his own cheeks. “You didn’t have to give me a heart attack with that last call, or lack thereof, you know.”

Gon laughs again. “I figured you’d know what to do, and I was right, so you’re welcome.”

Killua’s smile only grows wider. “Thanks.”

The team slowly disperses and heads back towards the dugout, everyone seemingly buzzing with a high, and Coach Bisky has to shout louder than usual to get everyone’s attention.

“Boys,” she starts, “I’m not going to make you stay here long. You all showed up today and did an incredible job. Especially you,” Bisky points at Killua and he flushes again. “Kid, never in my career have I seen a rookie do what you’ve done. You did an incredible job out there, and you earned this win most of all. I hope you’re proud of yourself for this accomplishment because it’s no small one.” He smiles and looks down in response. “Alright, team, no announcements today. We have another game tomorrow, so get here early for some warmup drills. Go and celebrate; you’ve all earned it.”

The team exits the dugout with Gon, Killua, and Zushi at the back, laughing and bumping each other, before they hear shouts of their name coming from just behind the fence. They look up and see Palm, Ikalgo, and Alluka looking at them excitedly.

“I’m so proud of you, brother!” Alluka shouts, tossing herself at Killua and wrapping her arms around his neck once he makes it through the gate. “You were incredible.”

He laughs into Alluka’s hair, hugging her back. “Thanks, Alluka. I’m kind of in shock.” 

“You were electric,” Ikalgo says and Alluka releases him. He claps him on the back and continues. “You seriously were awesome out there. Congrats.”

“Okay, my turn,” Palm interjects, tugging Killua by the arm and giving him a tight squeeze around the shoulders. She says softly into his ear, “You absolutely killed it. I’m so happy for you.”

Killua’s cheeks are rosy as he pulls away and scratches his neck. “Thanks, you guys. It means a lot that you were here.” He glances over at Gon who’s looking at him with a bright smile on his face and throws an arm around his shoulders. “I couldn’t have done it without Gon, though.”

Gon shakes his head and laughs it off. “I wasn’t the one pitching.”

“But you called the shots, so you didn’t let me make an ass out of myself,” Killua clarifies.

“True.”

“Let me express my congratulations.” Killua looks over to see Illumi standing just a few feet behind Alluka, Ikalgo, and Zushi, his head cocked to the side. He walks past them and Palm pulls Alluka’s arm to get her away. “You did well out there, Killu.” Illumi looks over to Gon, rigidly standing next to Killua. “You must be Gon Freecss. I’m Killu’s older brother, Illumi.” He extends his arm for a handshake and Killua watches as Gon just looks at his hand before looking back up to his face.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Gon replies, ignoring the extended hand.

Illumi smiles tightly as he drops his arm back down to his side. “Hopefully all good things.”

“Actually, all terrible things.”

Killua’s jaw drops and Ikalgo snorts before turning away. Zushi, Palm, and Alluka are visibly holding in laughter of their own, while Illumi just barely lets the comment affects his hardened facial expression.

“Good to know,” Illumi says, turning back towards Killua. “Killu, what could you possibly be coming up with to tell people about me?”

Killua shrugs. “I don’t really need to come up with shit when you’re already the fucking worst. Why’d you even bother coming over here, anyway? You didn’t get to me. I won. Now go fuck yourself and leave.”

Illumi tuts and shakes his head. “Oh, brother. I can see you’ve become so caught up in your delusions that you think the people standing around you actually support this kind of behavior.”

Gon scoffs. “What the fuck do you know about us?”

Glancing over at Gon, Illumi says tiredly, “It’s a shame you’re supporting Killu’s fantasies and not being direct with him.”

Gon narrows his eyes. “About what?”

Illumi smiles. “About how you’re just keeping my younger brother around because you feel bad for him. It’s not kind to lead people on, you know.”

Killua feels his eyes start to burn and sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. He looks over at Gon who’s got a look of absolute rage in his eyes.

“So you’re the reason Killua doesn’t believe that he actually deserves what he does?”

“I believe Killu just needs a reality check every now and again,” Illumi says. “He’s risking being the second one to tarnish the Zoldyck name by being associated with people like you, which is especially upsetting, considering you don’t actually care about my younger brother in the first place.”

Gon’s fist is clenched and he’s absolutely sneering at Illumi. “I don’t know what you mean by ‘people like me’, but you don’t know shit about how I feel about Kil.”

Illumi raises an eyebrow. “It seems that you don’t care about letting Killu be perceived as having twisted judgment and you don’t want to admit how you have no real reason to have any interest in him on any sort of scale.”

Killua wills his voice to remain steady as he says softly, “Just let it go, Gon.”

“No,” Gon says, shaking his head and taking a step closer to Illumi. “Not until he tells me what the fuck he means.”

Sighing, Illumi continues. “I didn’t want to be so brutally explicit, but I suppose that’s on me for thinking I could have a higher-level conversation with a simple baseball captain.” Killua notices Gon’s jaw tense. “Killu’s sister is sick, and he thinks he can look past it and welcome her into his home, which is his first mistake. His second mistake is thinking that you, or anyone besides me, really, truly cares for him. I look out for his well-being at all times. Someone with your talents - simple-minded at best, but talents nonetheless - couldn’t possibly find any interest in my younger brother besides sheer entertainment value through pitying him and giving him a taste of what real, genuine interest is actually like.” Killua hears the blood rushing in his ears as he stares at the ground, hot tears falling down onto the grass. “Even worse, you insist on carrying out your joke in such a way that risks Killu being seen as following in the same, disgusting footsteps as his sister. You’re dragging him down while also making him think he can go higher, and it’s quite upsetting to see as his older brother.”

The next thing Killua sees, while he’s still staring at the ground, is Illumi’s face next to his shoe, his older brother holding his hand to his crimson red nose. Killua’s eyebrows scrunch together in confusion and he looks up to see Gon breathing heavily and looking down at Illumi, his hand balled into a fist in front of his chest. Realization strikes him and his eyes blow open wide.

“Holy fuck, Gon,” he says. “What did you do?”

Illumi interrupts as he stands, still covering his face. “I’ll have you charged for assault, you little shit.”

Alluka giggles and all eyes turn to her. “I don’t know how far you’d get,” she says, trying to hide her smile. “I think I just witnessed that as self-defense since you tried to come at him.” Palm, Ikalgo, and Zushi all nod and hum their agreement.

Her older brother glares back at her. “You little bi-”

“Finish that,” Killua interrupts, stepping in front of him. “I fucking dare you to finish that unless you want to be on the ground again.”

Illumi stares between them all, his gaze shifting repeatedly, before huffing, wiping his nose, and briskly turning around to leave. Alluka looks at her brother in silence for a few seconds before they break into laughter. Killua’s eyes are still wet when he turns to Gon.

“What the hell did you do that for?” he asks Gon, who looks back at him with a sheepish smile on his face. Behind him, Killua notices Alluka, Palm, Ikalgo, and Zushi walking a bit further down the bleachers to give him and Gon some space.

“You asked me to punch him in the face,” Gon shrugs. “Plus, he was being a dick, so it’s not like he didn’t deserve it.”

Killua laughs incredulously and shakes his head as he feels a tear roll down his cheek. “You’re insane, you know that?”

Gon smiles softly. “So I’ve been told.” He sucks in a breath and brings a hand down over his mouth as he looks to the sky. “I just, I really couldn’t stand to hear what he was saying to you, and I hope you know none of it was true.”

Sniffing, Killua dismisses that with a wave of his hand. “It’s fine. It’s not anything I didn’t already know-”

“No!” Gon interrupts him, loudly, and Killua snaps his mouth shut. “No. Sorry, but I’m done listening to you let other people tell you what you are or what you deserve. Is there seriously any good reason why you think you wouldn’t be good enough for anyone? Or for me?” He looks at Killua with his mouth ajar, clearly looking for the words to say, before exhaling into an open smile. “Do you actually think there’s any part of you I don’t know about that would make me stop feeling absolutely crazy about you?”

Killua’s breath catches in his throat as he just blinks back at Gon in silence. He feels like his brain is rebooting and his heart is going to beat out of his chest, so he asks the only thing he seems to be able to in situations like these where Gon renders him speechless. “What?”

Gon breathes out a laugh. “You say that a lot when I talk about my feelings with you, you know.”

“Because it makes no sense.”

“It makes perfect sense to me.”

Killua sighs heavily, swallowing down the ball of nerves he feels in his throat. He looks down at his hand where he’s picking at one of his cuticles. “You mean it?”

Gon grabs his hands and holds them, prompting Killua to look back at him. He’s got a soft smile on his face and a determined look in his eyes. “Of course I mean it. I’ll do whatever it takes for me to prove to you that I mean it.”

He feels more tears threatening to escape but doesn’t bother to try and will these away. They’re different.

He also must be staring at Gon for a little too long without saying anything because Gon clears his throat and his smile falters. “But, uh, I totally understand if you want to keep things the way they are. If you’re only interested in just staying friends, we can-”

Killua cuts off Gon’s rambling with his mouth and, honestly, it’s his favorite way he’s ever shut Gon up.

He’s got one hand behind Gon’s head that he used to pull him in and the other still holding Gon’s hand, vaguely aware of the intensity with which he’s squeezing it. Killua’s not sure how long he keeps Gon there, kissing him senseless next to the empty bleachers, but he finds solace in the fact that Gon doesn’t seem to mind, kissing him back with just the same amount of fervor.

Gon pulls away just enough to rest his forehead on Killua’s, the two of them breathing heavily. Killua would like to solely attribute it to the kiss, but, it’s been an emotional ten minutes.

“In case it wasn’t clear,” Killua says softly, “I’m not interested in just staying friends.”

Gon chuckles, his eyes wrinkling with mirth. “No?”

“Fuck no.”

“Then what are you interested in?”

Killua eyes Gon. “I think I’m interested in kissing you until I can’t breathe.”

“Sure,” Gon laughs. “And what else?”

“I guess…” Killua trails off, rubbing his thumb across Gon’s knuckles. “I’m interested in going out with you, if you want.”

“Oh, I want,” Gon nods aggressively, and Killua laughs in response. “So, like, I can say we’re dating, right?”

“I’d be pissed at you if you didn’t,” Killua says, his tone light and a taunting smile on his face. “You trying to keep me a secret?”

Gon kisses him quickly and deliberately, simply and sweetly, before pulling back again. “Not a chance.”

Killua thinks his ribs might break from how hard his heart is beating, but it’s different this time. It’s good. His breathing isn’t shallow and he isn’t feeling nervous. Instead, he’s feeling like he could live in this moment forever.

Until he hears Palm, Ikalgo, Alluka, and Zushi absolutely losing their shit.

He and Gon look over to see them being incredibly obnoxious in showing their excitement by cheering and whooping. Killua hopes nobody else is in earshot as he buries his face into one of Gon’s shoulders, both of which are shaking with amusement.

“Please kill me,” he mumbles into Gon’s jersey, and Gon laughs even harder.

“They’re just happy for us!”

“Well, tell them to keep it to themselves.”

Raising his head to look back at Gon, Killua takes in a deep breath. “So,” he starts, “we’re good?”

Gon smiles wide back at him. “We’re great.”

Killua gives him a bright smile back, thinking that he could get used to the pain in his cheeks if it means being this damn happy. “Glad we got that sorted out.”

Chapter Text

Killua drops his robed arms to his sides with a huff. “You can see my ankles.”

Gon shoots him a confused look in the mirror as he works product into his hair. “What? No you can’t.”

Sighing loudly, Killua raises his arms again, parallel to the ground, and turns to face Gon. “Yes, you can. Look!” Gon turns his head to see the source of Killua’s anguish - his barely-visible ankles - and can’t help but snort.

“Only when you’re doing,” Gon gestures at Killua’s arms with a waved hand in the air, “whatever you’re doing. So, just don’t T-pose on stage, and you’ll be fine.”

Again, Killua drops his arms to his sides and grumbles. “I knew they wouldn’t have a robe long enough for me.”

“Oh, please,” Gon laughs, turning back to keep messing with his hair in the mirror. “Are you forgetting the entire basketball team exists?”

“They probably had custom ones made.”

“Okay, then are you forgetting that we got the same exact length robe and it looks fine on me?”

Killua narrows his eyes. “Are you forgetting I’m taller than you?”

With a smile and a roll of his eyes, Gon just replies, “You’d never let me forget,” and Killua can’t help but assume a smug look on his face as he steps into his bathroom and gives Gon a quick kiss on the cheek in response.

He steps back out of the bathroom and heads down the hall into his bedroom, checking his reflection in the full-length mirror behind the door and copying Gon by running his fingers through a few stray sections of hair.

“Do you think I really need to wear this stupid hat?” Killua calls, grabbing said hat off of his desk. Gon had insisted the two of them stay up late the night before to decorate them with a look on his face that Killua just couldn’t say no to.

Killua hears Gon’s boisterous laugh from down the hall and scrunches his nose at himself in the mirror. “It’s a cap, and yes.”

“It’ll mess up my hair.”

Gon appears in the doorway, his own cap in hand, and gives Killua a soft smile. “You figured out how to wear a hat on the field, but your grad cap is where you draw the line?”

Killua just shrugs. “What’re they gonna do, withhold my diploma? I satisfied the requirements.”

“Barely.”

Narrowing his eyes again, Killua shoves his own cap into Gon’s chest. “You’re lucky it was ‘barely’ or you’d have been out a senior year championship win.”

Gon shakes his head and takes a few steps towards Killua, walking behind him and helping adjust his cap on his head, the two of them looking at it in the mirror. “Of all the reasons why I’m glad you fucked up your physical education requirements, the championship is definitely one of the least important ones.”

Killua hums at this, angling his head just slightly back into Gon’s fingers that are working through his hair, adjusting pieces outside of the cap to make the best of it. “And what are the most important ones?”

At this, Gon lets his fingers ghost Killua’s neck just behind his ear, suppressing a smirk when he hears Killua’s breath hitch. He leans in, his lips less than an inch away from Killua’s earlobe, and says softly, “I can tell you in detail tonight.”

“Alternatively, you could tell me right now.”

“Alternatively,” Gon says, planting a kiss on Killua’s neck before standing upright again and making some final adjustments to Killua’s cap, “I could not tell you at all.”

Killua scowls in the mirror. “Jerk.” Gon just shoots him a sugary-sweet smile in return.

Graduation day was finally upon them, on the heels of a spectacular season for the Chimera Ants that resulted in a regional championship win and a whole lot of media attention that Killua did not sign up for. With the Ants in the running for the national championship for the first time in recent history, graduation didn’t mark the end of the athletic year - just the academic one - and Killua hadn’t been able to wrap his head around it.

“You’re telling me I busted my ass all year for a sport I didn’t give a fuck about just to graduate, and now that I am graduating, I can’t even call it quits?” Killua had complained, his head on Gon’s lap as they laid on his couch immediately after the regional championship game win.

“I mean,” Gon started, combing his fingers through Killua’s hair, “I guess you technically can, but you’d be a huge douche if you did.” Killua had glared up at Gon through his eyelashes, which prompted Gon to continue, fighting back a laugh. “How do you think we got here in the first place, golden boy?”

“Fuck off,” Killua replied, trying and failing to shake some hair out of his face and cover up the reddening tips of his ears at the mention of the nickname the Yorknew media had given him after his insanely impressive rookie (and retirement) season. He reached up and grabbed Gon’s bicep, giving it a quick squeeze. “I think this and the matching one on your right arm is why we got here. Didn’t you break, like, all the home run records in the last half of the season alone?”

Gon had shrugged, continuing to drag his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair. “Something like that.”

Killua snorted. “So modest.” He angled his head up and grabbed the back of Gon’s neck, bringing their faces just an inch or two apart. “Good thing you have me to tell you how much of an all-star you are.” With that, he planted a quick, but firm, kiss on Gon’s lips before letting go and settling his head back into his lap, leaving Gon blushing and gazing down at Killua.

Even now, two weeks after that regional win and one month after officially getting together, Killua enjoys that he can still have Gon sputtering and nervous if he says or does the right thing.

But he doesn’t enjoy it when Gon does it back to him.

(Maybe he does, a bit.)

“Okay, my turn,” Gon says, stepping in front of Killua to situate his own cap on top of his head. Killua smiles and returns the favor, twisting and adjusting locks of ebony hair around the cap. He moves in front of Gon and faces him dead-on, fixing some pieces in the front, before finishing by tugging out a curl of hair and letting it rest just above Gon’s right eye. Gon furrows his eyebrows at the feeling of it on his forehead, to which Killua replies, voice just above a whisper, “I love when you do this with your hair.”

Gon’s eyes, absolutely glistening this close up, sneaks a glance down at Killua’s lips, and Killua becomes acutely aware of his fingers that are still resting on Gon’s face. To avoid ruining the impeccable look he’s just bestowed upon his boyfriend by acting upon said glance, Killua backs away swiftly and darts over to his vanity to grab a small, plastic helmet-shaped cup - once used to hold ice cream at a minor league game Gon had dragged Killua to - with various hair clips and pins inside. When Killua brings one of the pins to Gon’s hair, Gon grabs his wrist. “What is that?”

At this, Killua can’t help the absolutely, disgustingly confused look that takes over his face. “Are you seriously acting like you’ve never seen a bobby pin before?”

Gon lets out a breath, visibly relaxing as his shoulders fall. “I thought they were scissors.”

Killua snorts and swats Gon’s hand away, getting back to work. “I just said I like your hair like this, so, yeah, naturally I’d go to cut it all off.”

“You never know.”

“You never know.”

Gon goes to flick Killua in the forehead, but gets pale, slender fingers wrapped around his own just before he can execute.

“Think about who has full control of making sure you don’t look like a disheveled mess when you grab your diploma,” Killua warns, a grin on his face, “and choose your next move carefully.” He releases Gon’s hand and reaches for another bobby pin, eye contact unwavering.

With a heavy exhale out of his nose, Gon drops his fingers just a bit and pokes Killua on the nose. “I hope you don’t need my help next.”

Killua snorts as he pushes another bobby pin into Gon’s hair, securing the cap to his head without messing up any of the carefully-placed locks. “Definitely don’t. I can manage my own.”

“I hope you manage it quickly,” Alluka calls from the living room, “because if you don’t leave in the next three minutes, you’re gonna be late.”

“We’re driving,” Killua calls back, making no movements with any sense of urgency.

Alluka replies with a snort. “Good luck; it’s graduation day, you idiot. All the lots have been full since eight this morning.”

At that, Killua’s eyes go wide and he meets Gon’s equally wide gaze.

“Shit.”

—

Five minutes later, Killua and Gon are running up to campus, hand in hand, graduation caps semi-secured to their heads, robes fluttering in the breeze.

Twelve minutes later, Killua and Gon are processing onto the football field with other students from their respective majors, not-so-subtly sneaking glances at each other from their sections.

Forty-seven minutes later, Gon’s grabbing his diploma and Killua’s wolf-whistling from his seat, with friends and teammates cheering from the audience.

Eighty-three minutes later, Killua’s doing the same, receiving matching cheers from Gon and company.

One hundred four minutes later, Aunt Mito is taking a photo of Gon, Killua, Alluka, Zushi, Palm, and Ikalgo with arms wrapped around one other, cheeks pressed against each other, and smiles unwavering.

—

Sixty-nine thousand, three hundred-sixty minutes (or, about seven weeks) later, the Chimera Ants having just won the national championship, the team is rushing the field to celebrate, and Gon is spinning Killua around in the dugout, stealing a kiss from the one who predominantly led them to this victory.

Sixty-nine thousand, three hundred-sixty minutes later, life is perfect, Killua’s heart is full, and he can’t imagine how he ever had a plan that didn’t involve Gon by his side.