Chapter Text
It’s Friday night, a few hours after classes end for the day, and Killua’s back in his dorm room. Despite his air of nonchalance about, well, just about everything, he secretly cares a lot about his medieval history class. He’s currently locked in study mode: headphones on, “Peak Focus EDM Mix” streaming on Spotify in the background, and his textbook open to the chapter on 12th century torture methods. A half-finished energy drink rests by his laptop. Everything is perfect.
Until his best friend and roommate bursts in the door, smiling from ear to ear. “Killua!” Gon yells entirely too loudly, tossing all his textbooks on his desk to punctuate his arrival. “We’re going out tonight.”
Killua removes his headphones and glances at Gon suspiciously from across their shared space. “Why?”
“Because it’s my 18th birthday, and I’m old enough to drink now! I’m ready to partyyy,” Gon replies. He flops onto Killua’s unmade bed and gives him his best puppy eyes. “Please?”
Shit. Killua forgot. And he didn’t remember to buy him a gift. But maybe he can still get out of this…
Killua frowns. “You know I don’t like going out. Can’t we just drink here?” he offers hopefully. “I can buy us some booze.”
“Nope!” Gon replies cheerfully. “C’mon Killu, I never ask you for anything. It can be my birthday present.”
Killua sighs, blowing his snow-white fringe out of his eyes. “…Fine. For a couple hours,” he says begrudgingly.
Gon pumps his fist, smiling ear to ear. “Yes!!”
“Did you have a place in mind?”
Gon deflates slightly. “No. I don’t really know any good spots… Wait!” His face lights up suddenly. “You should just ask Illumi. He goes clubbing sometimes, right?”
Killua grimaces. “I don’t know about that, Gon. He goes to, like, weird goth places.”
“Just ask him,” Gon coaxes. “I’m sure he goes somewhere normal every once in a while, right?”
---
Three hours later, they’re standing in front of Hēdony, a club on the edge of downtown that Illumi had assured them was for “normies.” Killua thinks that label is a bit questionable based on the number of visible tattoos, facial piercings and unusual dye jobs he sees among the people waiting to get in. The club doesn’t have any windows, but bass-heavy music and colorful lights spill out every time the bouncer opens the door.
Gon looks like he’s having the time of his life.
“You sure you want to do this?” Killua asks, already knowing that it’s a lost cause.
“Yeah!” Gon replies, shooting Killua such a dazzling smile that he has to avert his eyes. Gon looks… nice. Killua had finally convinced him to swap out his usual green t-shirt and worn cargo pants for a short-sleeved black button-down and fitted dark jeans that hug him in all the right places. He’d insisted on still wearing his combat boots, though. Some things never change.
Gon tugs on Killua’s elbow, breaking him out of his reverie. “C’mon, let’s get in line.”
Killua bounces on his feet anxiously as they wait. He wishes he’d taken a shot for liquid courage before they Ubered here. Meanwhile, Gon seems completely at ease, casually chatting up the other clubgoers standing in line. Killua’s always envied this ability of Gon’s: the absolute unselfconsciousness, the casual authenticity with which he approaches social interactions. Never afraid, never bothered. He’s just… above it all, somehow.
“…And today’s my 18th birthday!” Gon’s happily chattering away to a stranger. Killua snorts and allows his attention to wander to peoplewatching again.
Everyone here is a little alternative-looking, but a man and a woman standing a few paces ahead of them especially stick out. He’s tall and incredibly built, wearing a purple crop-top that shows off pale arms bulging with muscle. His fiery red hair is swept up in a gravity-defying style. Delicate gold earrings swing from his earlobes, catching the neon lights. His companion is short and petite, her hair dyed an equally unnatural bubblegum pink. Even from this distance Killua can tell that she’s beautiful, with high cheekbones and a finely upturned nose.
As if sensing Killua’s eyes on him, the tall man turns and looks right at him. Killua freezes. He’s attractive in a startling way, foxy features and full lips contrasting with odd, pale eyes that are framed by thinly arched brows and a truckload of eyeshadow and liner. His lips curl in a playful smile, and then he winks at Killua. Nope. Killua immediately looks down at his feet, feeling his cheeks heat up. Fuck, did Illumi send them to a gay club or something?
“Killua! The bouncer’s letting us go to the front since it’s my birthday,” crows Gon. “Let’s go.”
Suddenly he’s being dragged by his shirtsleeve to the front of the line. The red-haired man gives them a coy little wave as they pass by, his eyes raking over Killua and Gon in a way that feels entirely too intimate. Killua shivers.
And then they’re inside Hēdony, loud house music drowning out Killua’s thoughts as they enter the club’s dimly lit, cavernous interior. The bar looks more like a potions lab, with the leather-clad bartender carefully dispensing colorful liquids into weirdly-shaped glass. Across the room, the dancefloor is already packed, bodies grinding together under flashing lights. Definitely not Killua’s scene, but he has to admit, they could have picked worse.
“This is awesome!” Gon exclaims, warm brown eyes flashing excitedly as he takes in the space. “Wanna get drinks?”
Yeah, Killua could use a drink.
Gon orders for them both, a complicated-sounding rum cocktail with fruit on the rim and mysterious pink foam on top. He takes a big gulp, grimaces a little, then shakes it off.
“Pretty much what I expected,” Gon comments, taking a much smaller sip.
Killua raises his eyebrows. “You really never tried alcohol until now?”
Gon smiles. “Nope! Mito doesn’t drink, so we never had any around the house. I figured I could just wait until I turned 18.”
“Such a model citizen,” Killua says drily, sipping his own drink. Way too sweet, but not bad. His eyes drift down to Gon’s upper lip, which is dotted with pink foam. He suddenly has the insane urge to brush it off with his thumb, or maybe lick if off. Gon’s lips always look so soft…
Killua chases away the intrusive thought. “You have foam on your mouth,” he mutters, averting his eyes.
“Oh! Thanks,” Gon replies, wiping it away with the back of his hand. He downs the rest of his cocktail in one gulp.
Killua’s eyes widen. “Gon! You can’t just chug it. You’re probably a lightweight if this is your first time drinking.”
Gon shrugs. “I think I’ll be fine. C’mon, finish your drink! I’m ready to dance.”
Killua has many talents, but dancing isn’t one of them. He grits his teeth and knocks back the rest of his drink. “Fuck it. Let’s go dance.”
---
To his surprise, Killua finds that he’s actually having a good time. Gon’s enthusiasm is contagious, and Killua can’t help but smile as he watches his friend invent his own over-the-top dance moves. Gon’s an athlete, lithe but strong and more flexible than he looks. He’d probably be a great dancer if he actually had some sense of rhythm, Killua thinks. As things are, Gon’s just moving chaotically, paying no mind to whether he’s in sync with the beat. But he’s laughing, his face flushed with alcohol and exertion, and Killua can’t keep his eyes off him.
Yeah, Killua might be a little bit in love with his best friend. But that’s something to unpack later.
They refill their drinks. Gon insists on getting the same cocktail (“I think it tastes better this time! Wait-- does that mean I’m drunk?”). Killua makes them both drink water. And then they’re back on the dancefloor, losing themselves in the mass of bodies moving to the beat. Killua feels pleasantly buzzed after his second drink, his body finally relaxing as the neon lights start to blur in his peripheral vision.
Gon taps him on the shoulder after a few more songs. “Hey! It’s getting hot in here,” he shouts over the music. “Gonna step outside for a minute to get some air.”
Killua gives him a thumbs up. “I’ll be right here.”
It’s actually not that weird dancing alone. He’s just another face among many, and everyone else is either too drunk or caught up in the music to notice him. Maybe that’s why Illumi likes this so much, Killua muses.
After 10 minutes pass, though, he starts to worry a little bit about Gon. Hopefully “getting some air” wasn’t code for “throwing up in the bushes.” He didn’t seem that drunk. But Killua should probably go check on him.
He extracts himself from the crowd and wanders around the club until he finds the exit to the back patio. It’s quite a bit cooler outside, and the night breeze feels good on Killua’s heated skin. Less crowded out here too; just a few groups of people chatting and smoking.
But where’s Gon? Killua glances around for his friend, frowning when he doesn’t see him right away. He rummages in his pocket for his cellphone, ready to call him-- wait. Christ, is Gon talking to that weirdo from the line?
Of course he is. Killua’s mouth sets in a grim line as he crosses the patio to where Gon’s happily chatting with the tall, overly muscular man from earlier. The one who looked like a walking red flag.
Gon’s voice becomes audible as Killua approaches: “…wait, so you’re saying that you’ve been to Whale Island before? That’s crazy! Most people have never heard of it.”
“Mmhmm. I used to travel a lot,” the stranger replies. His voice even sounds sleazy; low with a suggestive lilt at the end of his words. He produces a brass lighter from his pocket and lights a cigarette, the shadows cast by the flame turning his handsome features ghoulish. “Would you like one?” he asks, offering the pack to Gon.
To Killua’s horror, Gon accepts. “Yeah!” he says brightly, drawing one from the pack. “I don’t really smoke. But before tonight, I didn’t drink either.”
The guy smirks. “Adventurous. Well, first time for everything, right?” He lights Gon’s cigarette for him, getting unnecessarily close to Gon’s face as he shields the flame from the wind with long, pale fingers.
Gon inhales tentatively and then immediately coughs a lung up. “Wow, that’s harsh,” he croaks, eyes watering. “You made it look so easy!”
The stranger laughs, hiding his mouth behind an elegant hand. “Better to not pick up the habit. It’s terrible for you.” He takes a smooth drag off his own cigarette and exhales a cloud of pale smoke into the night air.
Killua decides it’s time to intervene. He loudly clears his throat and steps out of the shadows. “Gon. I was looking for you.”
Gon’s eyes light up. “Killua! Sorry, I lost track of time,” he apologizes. “I was just talking to my new friend. This is Hisoka,” he says, gesturing to the massive dude towering above him. “Hisoka, this is Killua.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Killua,” says the man named Hisoka, extending a ghost-white hand. Killua eyes it for a second and then reluctantly returns the handshake, making sure to squeeze hard as hell. Hisoka’s hand is cool and callused, his fingers tipped with unusually long, pointed nails that are painted neon blue.
“What a strong grip,” Hisoka purrs. His hand lingers in Killua’s for a beat too long. “Do you fight?”
Killua frowns. What kind of a question is that?
“…No. Why do you ask?”
“Just wondering,” the redhead replies, smiling innocently. “You have that look. Fierce, intelligent… like you might hit me if I asked you. It’s very attractive.” Hisoka taps a fingertip on his cheek, looking Killua up and down shamelessly. “Don’t worry, gorgeous. I mean it as a compliment.”
Killua feels himself blushing. “Um, okay. Thanks, I guess?”
He stares at Hisoka challengingly, refusing to back down from whatever fucked-up mind game the man’s trying to play. Even though meeting his gaze sends a shiver down Killua’s spine. This close, he can see that Hisoka’s irises are an unusual color; more yellow than anything else. His eyes are heavy-lidded but also incredibly awake, flicking between him and Gon with all the lazy perceptiveness of a predator.
Gon interrupts the awkward moment by loudly coughing up another lungful of smoke. “Sorry,” he manages, abandoning his cigarette in an ashtray. “I think smoking isn’t for me.”
Hisoka watches him, amused. “Mm. But you looked so good doing it.”
Gon smiles up at him, obviously flattered. “Really? So do you,” he replies unabashedly, voice still hoarse. His brown eyes practically sparkle as he watches Hisoka bring a hand to his lips, cigarette glowing cherry-red between two pale fingers.
Killua’s eyes widen. What the actual fuck is going on here?
“Oh, thank you~” Hisoka croons. “You sound like you could use some water, hmm?”
“That would be great, actually--”
Killua cuts Gon off. “Yeah, I think we’re good. I can take it from here.” No way in hell he’s letting Gon drink anything this guy pours.
Hisoka laughs airily. “Please, it’s no trouble. I’ll be right back,” he says. His cigarette has vanished somehow. “Don’t go anywhere,” he adds, shooting Gon a meaningful look.
Gon watches as the redhead walks away, hips swinging fluidly under dark blue harem pants. Surprisingly graceful for someone built so solidly. He’s got a nice ass too, and Killua’s almost 100% sure that Gon is staring at it.
Killua shifts in front of his friend, blocking the admittedly nice view. “Gon? What the fuck?”
Gon furrows his brow. “What?”
“You know he’s flirting with you, right? He’s totally creepy. And way older than us,” Killua says, exasperated.
Gon shrugs. “Yeah! I like him,” he says straightforwardly.
“…Seriously?”
“Mm, yeah, I think so. He’s different. But… interesting. And exciting!”
Killua stares at him. Gon is never one to play games: he means what he says, and his actions reflect that. Sarcasm always flies right over his head. So if he’s saying he likes this guy, he’s telling the truth.
Honestly, Gon hasn’t shown much interest in sex or dating since they started college. He said he fooled around with a girl on Whale Island last year, and he might be attracted to guys too, but that was the most Killua got out of him. Not that Killua’s much more experienced. But Gon seemed more interested in ecology class and extracurriculars than trying to get in bed with someone of any gender. It’s surprising that he’s suddenly so… captivated by this flamboyant stranger.
Killua bites down a sudden pang of jealousy. He swallows thickly. “Okay,” he says finally. “Yeah, I get it. He’s attractive. But…” He falters, unable to articulate what it is about Hisoka that sets off all his alarm bells. “I mean, you just met him,” he finishes lamely. “How do you know he’s even a good guy?”
“I guess I don’t,” Gon replies, flashing Killua a crooked grin. “But is it so wrong to want to find out?”
Killua’s struggling to come up with a reply to that when Hisoka returns, producing two cold bottles of water with a flourish.
“Got one for you too, Killua,” he says, smiling winningly.
“Thank you, Hisoka!” Gon says, beaming.
“Yeah, thanks,” Killua mutters. He inspects the water bottle suspiciously: it’s sealed, so should be safe. That was actually… pretty thoughtful of him. He untwists the cap and drinks gratefully.
“So, what’s the plan?” Hisoka asks. His tone is playful, but his eyes are sharply focused as he watches Gon chug his bottle of water, droplets escaping his lips to run down the tan line of his throat. “More drinks? Dancing?”
“I think I’ve danced enough for one night,” Gon sighs, wiping his mouth on his wrist. “But I’m not ready to go home yet. What about you, Killua?”
Killua makes a noncommittal noise. He’s a thousand percent ready to hole up under the covers in their dorm room, but he doesn’t want to be too much of a vibe killer.
Hisoka makes a show of thinking hard, then raises a finger as if he’s suddenly devised a brilliant plan. “Why don’t you both come to my apartment, then? I can make us another drink. Or whatever your vice is,” he adds, brows rising suggestively.
Hell no. Killua shakes his head, ready to firmly shoot him down. “Yeah, I don’t think--”
“Sounds good!!” Gon practically shouts.
Killua whips his head around, ice-blue eyes shooting invisible daggers at his friend. “Gon. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
---