“Love weaves itself from hundreds of threads. Happenstances. I just happened to be one of them.”

― David Levithan, How They Met, and Other Stories

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“Good morning, Killua! Happy birthday!”

 

Killua froze in his tracks, one hand resting on the kitchen doorframe, the other attempting to wipe the sleep from his eyes. Bleary eyed, he stared at Gon in confusion. The brunet was standing at the stove, fussing over some pans of something that smelled pretty damn amazing. He was wearing an apron that looked several sizes too big for him and had a smudge of something on his cheek. “Why are you up so early?” Killua grumbled in confusion.

 

“Early? ” Gon laughed. “Killua, it’s ten o’clock! Half the morning’s gone. Anyway, have a seat; breakfast’s almost ready.”

 

Mumbling an incoherent thank-you, Killua slunk into the kitchen, pulling out a seat at the table. Slumping into it, he stared at the table, trying to focus his fuzzy vision. It was set for two, glasses of juice set at both plates. A vase filled with an enormous bouquet of wildflowers sat in the middle of the table, the riotous display of color catching his eyes immediately. Next to the vase was a lumpy package, wrapped in brown butcher paper but tied with a bright blue ribbon instead of the twine one might expect.

 

Yawning, Killua stared at the package, blinking hard as he tried his best to wake up. It hadn’t been there at dinner last night, so maybe it had arrived in today’s mail? Maybe it was something Ms Abe or Miss Mito had picked up at the market earlier…but that didn’t feel quite right. No, there was a reason, he just couldn’t put his finger on it. Then Gon’s words from earlier finally percolated through his hazy mind.

 

“Wait…Gon, is this for me?” he asked, poking at the package. It yielded easily to the touch; something soft was inside.

 

Gon laughed again, as bright as the sunshine filtering in through the kitchen window. “Of course it is! It’s your birthday, remember?”

 

“Huh.” Killua stared at the package. Gon had never given him a gift before. Granted, they hadn’t been as close as they were now the last time their birthdays came around, so it wasn’t too weird that he was getting one now. What could it be? It was pretty soft, so maybe something made of fabric? A new backpack, maybe? There was that limited-edition Chocorobo plush that had been released last month; Gon could have splurged on that, perhaps.

 

A plate of food suddenly appeared in his field of vision. “Breakfast is ready,” Gon informed him, “time to eat up!” It was filled with all of Killua’s favorites: a tall stack of chocolate-chip pancakes  topped with a dollop of freshly whipped cream, cheesy scrambled eggs, toast spread with Ms Abe’s homemade berry jam, and a bowl of sliced fresh fruit.

 

Killua had to fight to keep from drooling in anticipation; everything smelled incredible and looked even better than the meals his family’s chefs would whip up. “You made all of this?” he asked with incredulity. “I didn’t even know you could cook.”

 

“Yup! Aunt Mito and Grandma taught me,” Gon told him as he set his own plate of food down at the other place setting. “But they’re so much better at it than me that usually they just split all of the cooking between themselves. I always cook for them on their birthdays, though! So that means I’m cooking for you, too. Now let’s eat before it gets cold!”

 

Well, Killua didn’t need to be told twice, and he tucked into his plate with the ferocity of a starving tiger. “This is so good,” he marveled, “I’ve never had pancakes taste this great before. Gon, you’re a genius! You’ve got to tell me your secret.”

 

Gon grinned as he bit into his toast. “There’s no real secret. You just have to care about what you’re doing. And you have to really care about the person you’re cooking for.”

 

Killua nearly choked on his pancakes. “C-c-c- care ?” he sputtered. How can you say such things so nonchalantly? Killua’s face was on fire, and he took a long swig of the ice-cold juice in a desperate attempt to cool himself down. He does this to me every time, dammit!

 

The rest of breakfast passed in near-silence, only accompanied by the sounds of their munching and the birdsong filtering in through the half-open window. Killua’s stomach was doing that funny little swooping thing it did whenever Gon said or did something cute. And lately…well, it had been like having a full-on rollercoaster in his stomach every day.

 

Eventually, their plates were empty, and Killua sat back with a sigh of satisfaction. This had been, hands down, the best birthday breakfast he’d ever had. Period. And to show his appreciation…   “Let me wash the dishes,” Killua stated. “You cooked, so it’s the least I can do.”

 

“Okay,” Gon agreed, startling Killua a little since he’d anticipated some pushback. “Before you do that, though,” Gon said, “I want to give you your gift.” He picked up the lumpy package and offered it to Killua. “This is for you,” Gon said softly. “I hope you like it. It’s the first time I’ve made anything like this, so…yeah.”

 

Why does he look nervous? Killua wondered as he accepted the gift and began to slowly untie the ribbon. He removed it and set it to the side before carefully unwrapping the folded brown paper. And there, sitting in its nest of paper, was a blue scarf. From the look of the woven yarn, it was clear that it wasn’t factory-made, but rather hand-knit. Killua ran his fingers over the scarf, marveling at the softness of the yarn.

 

“You made this for me?” Killua breathed. He’d never received a handmade gift before. Something about it felt so deeply personal; intimate, in a way.

 

“I wanted…well, sometimes you look kind of cold…and I know you said it wasn’t a problem, but I just worry sometimes, I guess. Whether your clothes are warm enough.” Gon fidgeted in his chair. “You deserve to be comfortable,” he finished after a brief pause. “You deserve a lot of things, but I can’t give you all of them. So this is what I can.”

 

Killua’s stomach was off on that rollercoaster ride again, and he realized with a jolt that the blue yarn was exactly the shade of his own eyes. He felt his face—and his chest—grow warm.

 

“Can I put it on you?” Gon asked cautiously.

 

“Yeah,” Killua rasped, “sure. I’d like that.” The last bit came out so soft and faint that he wasn’t sure if Gon heard it or not. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to repeat it or not. Was he scared to? 

 

But then Gon slipped out of his chair, and picked up the scarf as reverently as one might hold a sacred artifact. Ever so delicately, ever so gently, Gon looped the scarf around Killua’s neck, fingers just barely brushing against his shoulders. Killua forgot how to breathe for a moment.

 

Gon stepped back all too soon, cocking his head to the side as he took in the sight of Killua wrapped in his gift. A shaft of morning sunlight hit him just right, setting his eyes aglitter and his face aglow. Killua couldn’t tear his eyes away.

 

“How does it look?” He was amazed that he could find his voice.

 

“Perfect,” Gon stated. His eyes were warm, and his voice triumphant, and Killua felt like he might just float away. The two of them stood there for a while; how long, Killua couldn’t say, but it wasn’t quite long enough. Someone had to eventually break the silence, and unsurprisingly, it was Gon.

 

“Um, I’m sorry that I didn’t make you any coffee,” he blurted, apropos of absolutely nothing. Killua blinked in surprise, since that was the last thing he’d expected out of Gon’s mouth right now. “I know you like warm drinks in the morning, but… Well, we don’t keep coffee in the house often, and I don’t really know the trick for making it. But I could treat you to it at the restaurant in town,” Gon offered shyly.

 

“Like a date?” Killua blurted, before he could second-guess himself. To hesitate was to invite death, he’d been taught in his training, and to hesitate now would be to kill whatever was blossoming here, to rip it out by the root before the flower could bloom.

 

Gon’s eyes went wide. “I—um. It could be. If you wanted it to be one,” he said in a rush. Perhaps before he could second-guess himself, either. The trepidation in his eyes didn’t suit him; this wouldn’t do, Killua decided.

 

“Okay. Well, I do,” Killua nodded decisively. “Want it to be one, that is. So just wait there, and I’ll be back in five minutes.” Already, he was mentally going through the clothes he’d stashed in Gon’s closet, working out a combination suitable for the occasion. 

 

The tips of Gon’s ears were bright red as he nodded furiously. “Yes! Okay! Five minutes! Wait, five minutes for what?”

 

“Give me five minutes to find something to go with this scarf,” Killua clarified. “I gotta dress my best, after all. It’s my first date.”

 

Yeah, hands down, this is gonna be the best birthday ever. Period.