To Love a Hungry Thing [PREVIEW]

by Kanae11111

Summary:

Gon runs the only butcher shop in the town of Ashgrove. He’s cheerful, beloved by everyone, and impossibly generous, especially with one particular customer.

Killua works nights at the cemetery, cursed with a hunger that isn’t satisfied by anything human food can offer. Gon doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he’s always happy to set something aside just for him.

Notes:

Would you guys rather find 22 tarantulas in your basement or find a stranger

Anywho I hope you guys enjoy this preview fic!!

Long fingers, calloused at the pads, steady in a way that had nothing to do with confidence. The kind of steadiness that came from doing the same motion thousand times the body stopped needing the mind's permission to do it well. The sound was almost obscene in the empty shop. That low, rhythmic hiss of steel against stone.

The blade glided over the whetstone in a slow, practiced rhythm, the sound razor sharp echoed through the room. The edge of the knife caught beneath the light hanging over the workbench, flashing silver for the briefest moment before he twisted the knife over, repeating the same motion. Back and forth; again, and again.

There was something satisfying about sharpening the blade before sunrise. The town was still asleep. Nobody was watching him. It was just him, and the knife.

He smiled to himself, setting the whetstone aside long enough to inspect the knife from every angle, tilting it until the edge reflected the warm orange light above him, studying it like the way another man studies a photograph of someone he loved.

"Perfect," he said.

The word left him with satisfaction. He reached for a cloth, wiping away the thin ribbon of water clinging to the steel, before resting the blade neatly beside the others, each blade lying in its exact spot on the knife rack. His eyes wandered toward the front windows where gold lettering stretched proudly across the glass.

FREECSS MEATS MARKET

The paint had begun to fade slightly after two winters, but he couldn't bring himself to replace it yet. "Funny.." he murmured, leaning his elbows against the counter as though someone sat across him. "When people picture a butcher shop, they imagine something straight out of a horror movie. Dark walls. Sharp hooks hanging across the ceiling. Maybe even a creepy old man staring at you."

A laugh escaped him, easy, warm entirely at odds with the rows of knives gleaming at him. "I do have the sharp hooks part. Hah! Maybe then an old man will come in later today!"

Morning sunlight spilled through the front windows, washing the hardwood floor into shades of amber. A chalkboard menu stood beside the register, today's specials written in bold format white lettering.

USDA CHOICE TOMAHAWK RIBEYE

THE CARNIVORE COLLECTION

ULTIMATE STEAK SAMPLER BUNDLE

"I like when a place feels welcoming." His gloved fingers brushed across the polished countertop. Making a sweeping hiss under his palm. "I mean... if you're going to spend half your day somewhere, shouldn't it be somewhere you enjoy looking at?" The corner of his mouth lifted.

"If you're going to spend your time in my shop, we should probably get to know each other." His gaze drifted across the room again, hooks and chains hung off the walls, alongside an array of somewhat menacing tools.

"Ive owned this place for two years now. His voice carried the pride of someone who'd built something brick by brick with his own hands.

"Ive been here long enough to remember which refrigerator rattles if you don't close it all the way. And long enough to recognize nearly every face before they even step through the door." As if on cue, one particular floorboard near the entrance let out a familiar creak. His smile widened before the bell above the door had the chance to ring.

"Right on schedule." the little brass bell chimed cheerfully. An older woman stepped inside carrying a canvas shopping bag over one shoulder, offering a wave before she'd even reached the display case.

"Morning, Gon!" A blond woman called out.

"Morning, Ms Bisky." he leaned off the counter. "The usual?" Already heading toward the back, and already reaching for a knife.

"You know me so well." she laughed, and he laughed with her as his hands moved without hesitation as he selected a sirloin fresh cut, laying it onto the butcher block before positioning his knife. "Most people think this is the hard part. Always overthinking where to land the knife at."

The blade came down in one clean stroke. "It isn't." Another cut sliced into the steak. "If anything, this is the easy part."

He gathered the slices together, wrapping them in a crisp brown paper before tying the parcel neat white twine. Ms. Bisky chatted about the weather, about her hot new date.. Gon listened between wrapping the packages and weighing cuts of meat, answering politely whenever the time was appropriate to talk.

"I should stop by again with the guy I'm talking to." she said with a mischievous smile. "See if he's man enough."

"It's not that terrifying walking into a butcher shop. Especially mine." Gon grinned, He stepped aside and pointed his thumb behind him. "Though I do think seeing dead animals could drive someone away." Behind him was the kitchen. A freshly skinned cow hung, half of its body was cut, half wasn't.

She laughed again covering her mouth with one hand, and pressed forty-six dollars in his palm. "Guess we'll have to find out."

He took the money, and opened the register. The register made a pleasant chime as he handed her the receipt. She wished him a good day, lifting the parcel into her shopping bag, and disappeared through the front door with one final jingle of the bell.

"It gets lonely sometimes," he admitted, as if he knew someone was still listening. "Not in a bad way." His fingers traced the grain of the counter. "It's just quiet.. until it's afternoon. Not many people are early birds around here."

The silence lingered for only a moment before Gon pushed himself away from the counter with a contented sigh. "Well." he murmured with a smile, rolling his shoulders until the white fabric settled comfortably against him. "Can't spend all morning talking."

He flicked his gaze toward the back leading to the preparation room before looking back, the corner of his mouth lifting as if someone were still perched on the stool. "Come on" The invitation felt empty, since nobody was there. "I'll show you where the real work happens."

The kitchen beyond the swinging door was noticeably colder. A pleasant chill settled against his skin as the heavy door eased shut behind him, muffling the hushed hum of the storefront. Stainless steel counters reflected the pale morning light filtering through the narrow windows high along the wall, every surface polished until it gleamed. Shelves were lined with neat, sharpening stones, rolls of butcher's twine, and rows of knives organized by size.

His hand brushed lightly across the cool metal countertop as he walked past, almost absentmindedly. "A messy workspace makes for messy hands."

He opened the refrigerator door, cool air spilling into the room in a soft cloud. Resting inside was a side of pork, carefully wrapped and tagged from the previous afternoon's delivery. He lifted it onto the butcher's block, the wood giving a familiar, solid thud beneath the weight. He ripped open the wrapper revealing the fresh meat.

"There you are." His smile hadn't faded as he reached for his knife. He placed one hand against the pork, studying it quietly for a moment before nodding to himself.

The blade slipped through the meat with almost surprising ease. Just smooth, automatic movements guided by years of repetition. "I thought it would be hard, working alone when I first started."

"Shockingly," His wrist turned, separating another portion, laying it neatly onto a waiting tray. "It's pretty easy. Nobody's here to boss you around. Or rush you."

The knife tapped softly against the board as he adjusted his grip. "It's just me here." He said, hacking away at the meat like a machine. Piece after piece found its place inside stainless steel trays, each one lined with crisp white butcher paper. He adjusted a few by barely half an inch before finally seeming satisfied, smoothing the paper flat with the side of his hand.

He lifted the finished trays one by one, carrying them back through the swinging doors into the storefront. Morning sunlight spilled across the glass display case, making the polished metal inside gleam. One tray with rows of pork chops, round pork, and tenderloin. Bacon, stacked carefully so each strip overlapped the next.

The hours slipped by unnoticed after working all morning. When business slowed, he wiped fingerprints from the display glass despite there barely being any. When there was nothing left to clean, he sharpened another knife. When the knives were sharp, he reorganized jars that hadn't needed reorganizing. His hands simply refused to stay idle.

The clock ticked onward. A few people came in, ordering sausages, chicken, whatever suited their taste different grades, different preferences, all the same to him.

He rested both palms against the counter and let out a slow breath. Before glancing toward the clock mounted above the sink. "Already?" His eyebrows curved. "Mornings disappear faster than afternoons." He leaned his head back, letting out a long sigh.

The kitchen lights clicked off behind him as he stepped through the swinging door into the storefront. Sunlight had climbed higher now, pouring through the front windows in broad golden rectangles across the wooden floor.

The bell above the door jingled twice in quick succession. That was always a sign it was Old Mari from the flower shop two doors down. She never opened doors; she shoved it, acting like she owns the place. "Gon, sweetheart, tell me you have that dry-aged strip left." She was already halfway to the counter, she wore a sun hat on, a string bag swinging from her elbow.

"Cutting some now, actually." He wiped his hands on his apron and nodded toward the display case. "Give me two minutes."

"Take five, I've got gossip." She parked herself at the counter like she paid rent there. "You hear about Retz?"

Gon glanced up, knife still resting against the block. "Retz who used to haggle over sausage prices, Retz?" He answered quickly. Way too quickly.

"That's the one." Mari rolled her eyes theatrically. "Nobody's seen her in what, ten days now? Her stall is just sitting there. Produce rotting in the crates. My husband said good riddance, honestly, the woman owed half the block money."

"Huh." Gon turned back to the meat, resuming his cut in slow, even strokes. "That's strange.'

"Strange is one word for it." Mari waved a hand. "I say she skipped the town before her debts caught up. Women like that don't just vanish for noble reasons."

"Mm." the knife paused, barely, for half a second–right at the edge of the fat cap, before continuing clean through.

Mari didn't notice much beyond her own sentences, "Anyway, if you hear anything, you tell me first. I want to be the one who breaks it to the block."

"You always are doing that." Gon's face softened, he wrapped the strip loin in paper with the same practiced neatness as always. "Here, on the house. Call it payment for today's gossip."

"Oh, you're an angel." She took the parcel, already moving towards the door. "Tell that boyfriend of yours I said hello, by the way. I haven't seen him in a long minute."

The bell jingled once behind her. Gon stood still for a moment, hand resting flat against the counter.

The bell above the entrance continued its familiar tune throughout the afternoon. Sometimes it rang once. Sometimes twice in a quick succession when a family wandered in together. Every chime carried another face, another conversation, another reason for Gon to disappear behind the display case with a smile already waiting on his lips.

He carried fresh trays from the kitchen to replace the ones beginning to empty, swapping them with practiced efficiency before disappearing into the back again.

Each customer brought a little piece of the town through the front door.

A father with two impatient children clinging to his sleeves. A young couple nervously planning their first dinner together. An elderly man who insisted on buying the exact same cut every Thursday because his late wife had always cooked it that way.

Gon greeted each of them by name whenever he could.

But sometimes they hurried back out with apologies about work or errands. Sometimes they lingered long enough to tell him stories he never asked for but always enjoyed hearing.

He would give his full attention to whoever was talking in the moment and engage in the conversation. He'd also offered recipes when someone looked unsure. Recommended a different cut if he thought it'd suit their lunch better.

His talkative nature is another reason why people in this town like him.

Gon disappeared into the kitchen one last time, wiping down the butcher block until the wood gleamed once more. Every knife was washed by hand, dried carefully with a soft towel, then returned to its place on the magnetic strip with a calm click.

He scrubbed the counters, swept away tiny curls of butcher's twine and flecks of sawdust from the floor, and checked tomorrow's delivery list twice despite knowing it by heart. When he returned to the storefront, dusk had begun settling over the town.

The golden sunlight had faded into muted blues and oranges beyond the windows. Across the street, shopkeepers flipped their signs from OPEN to CLOSE, one after another, until the market block slowly surrendered to the evening. The flower stand sat empty, the bakery's lights blinked out. Even the laughter from the square had dwindled to little more than distant echoes carried on the breeze.

Gon rested both palms against the counter, allowing himself one final look across the shop. The display cases of meat sat half-empty. A handful of steaks remained behind the polished glass, each tray aligned perfectly with the next. The chalkboard menu beside the register still carried today's specials, though tomorrow morning he'd erase every word and write new specials.

Only then did he notice he wasn't alone.

"Most people don't stay after closing."

"Well."

"Except for this one guy." He murmured; his voice came out annoyed. But if anything, he was delighted.

Someone stood near the shelves lining the opposite wall, where jars of smoked salts, dried herbs, and homemade marinades waited in neat rows beneath the warm pendant lights. Pale fingers drifted lazily over the glass bottles without picking any of them up, reading labels that had never seemed particularly interesting before.

Sometimes Gon wondered if he actually looked at the products at all, or if he simply enjoyed existing in the soundless environment after the rest of the town had gone home.

He looked as though he'd been there for several minutes already. Gon wasn't keeping count.

Hands tucked into the pockets of his black jeans, shoulders relaxed, white hair catching the last ribbons of blue and orange light filtering through the shop, almost thoughtfully, as though he knew every shelf as well as Gon did.

The corners of Gon's mouth rose before he could stop them.

"You know," he called out, "most people announce themselves when they come in."

Killua heard, then finally stepping away from the shelves, his footsteps slow against the polished wooden floor. There wasn't any urgency in the way he moved. He carried himself with an almost unfair sort of confidence, quiet enough to disappear into a crowded room and yet impossible to overlook once he'd decided where he was going. The pendant lights overhead caught in his white hair as he approached.

His gaze drifted lazily toward the chalkboard menu resting beside the register, scanning each line without much interest until it settled on the particular special written near the middle that caught his eye.

"The carnivore collection." Killua said.

But there was something about the way the words rested between them that made the air feel heavier than it had before.

Gon looked up from the ledger he was pretending to organize. Their eyes met just for a moment, neither of them uttered a word.

The bruise hasn’t healed, Gon thought. As he studied Killua’s face, a bittersweet ache settled in his chest. He felt a surge of happiness being near him, but it was lightly shadowed by a strange compunction. I should be more careful next time.

Then a laugh escaped him, low and warm as he leaned both forearms against the counter. "I'm about to close up the shop, and you ask for the collection?"

Killua shrugged and said, "Yeah, I noticed."

Gon shook his head, the smile refusing to leave his face no matter how hard he tried to look nonchalant. "You wait until I've cleaned my knives, cleaned down almost everything and checked the register."

"I know, I saw."

"Before deciding you're hungry?"

Killua's expression barely changed. "Ive been hungry. Starving almost."

"You know," Gon sighed, closing the ledger with a soft thud before resting his hands on top of it, "normal people get food to eat before a shop closes. Or even order."

Killua raised an eyebrow ever so slightly. "I never said I was normal."

"...Fair." Gon averted his gaze away.

His eyes wandered toward the chalkboard menu, lingering on the words The Carnivore Collection. Most customers ordered it because they liked trying a bit of everything. It was one of the more popular specials whenever he remembered to write it on the board.

Killua wasn't like most customers. He hadn't looked at the steaks. Or the chicken.

Not even the display case at all.

He looked at the menu, and then he'd look at Gon.

"...Anything else?" Gon asked, though he already suspected what Killua was going to say.

Killua's gaze held his for another heartbeat before the smallest hint of amusement tugged at one corner of his mouth. "The butcher's specialty."

Gon's smile spread slowly across his face until he had to duck his head to hide it. "Ney Killua," he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck as a quiet chuckle escaped him, "you always make it sound so ominous."

"Only because I like seeing your reaction." Killua gently placed his hand on Gon's chin, drawing him closer.

"You've done this millions of times. Obviously i'm gonna get a reaction out of you." Gon rolled his eyes as he felt like his face was getting hotter.

"I've only asked for the specialty four times after finding out this 'secret menu'." He loosened up his grip on Gon's chin.

Gon managed to break free from Killua's grip, slightly shaking his face.

He let out another soft laugh as he reached behind his neck, fingers finding the knot that held his apron in place. The fabric loosened with a tug before slipping from his shoulders, fully revealing the back shirt he'd worn beneath it all day. He folded the apron neatly, smoothing the wrinkles with absent fingers before hanging it on the hook beside the kitchen door exactly where it belonged.

He washed his hands one last time at the small sink behind the counter, the cold water carrying away the last traces of the day before drying them on a fresh towel.

When he moved back, Killua hadn't moved. He was still standing at the register. Watching him. Gon reached for the shop keys that were hanging on the aprons pocket. He crossed the shop until they stood only a step apart. Neither of them moved for a second.

Killua's gaze dropped to the parcel still sitting on the counter. The one Gon had wrapped hours ago and never sold, never weighed, never rang up. "Is that for me?" he asked.

"Depends. Are you still hungry?" Gon tilted his head slightly, watching him.

Killua picked it up anyway, weighing it once in his palm. He peeled back a corner of the paper, just enough to glance at what was inside. "Not really in the mood for this kind of meat tonight, actually." He folded the paper shut again, unfazed.

Gon raised an eyebrow. "You said you were starving. Like dramatically starving. I believed you."

"I exaggerate sometimes." Killua shrugged, not remotely sorry.

"You never exaggerate. You just complain until I feel bad." Gon huffed, shaking his head.

"That's a very specific accusation." Killua tucked the parcel under his arms regardless. "Doesn't mean I won't eat it."

"So, you are hungry." Gon's mouth curved, victorious.

"I didn't say that either." Killua's expression stayed carefully flat, though his eyes gave him away.

"Killua." Gon narrowed his eyes at him.

"What?" The corner of his twitch, entirely too pleased with himself. "I'm allowed to be picky. You'd trust me less if I wasn't."

Gon huffed something between a laugh and a sigh, reaching for his keys. "One of these days you're going to actually answer a question directly."

"Statistically unlikely." Killua said it without looking back, already drifting toward the door.

"I know. I still have hope." Gon followed after him, keys jingling in his hand.

"That's your whole problem." Killua looked over his shoulder, the words light, teasing.

Gon moved past him to the light switch, and the shop went dark in pieces. First the display case folding into shadow, then the pendant lights above the shelves, then the chalkboard menu disappearing last. Only the streetlight through the front window lit the way out.

He flipped the sign. OPEN became CLOSED with a small, familiar click. "Ready?" he asked, keys jingling once in his hand.

Killua was already holding the door, a parcel tucked against his side, palm flat against the bell so it wouldn't ring.

"Why do you always do that?" Gon said, stepping past him into the cool evening air.

"Do what?" Killua raised a brow, feigning innocence "Hold it quiet like that." Gon glanced back at him as he locked the door.

"Didn't want to wake the street." Killua shrugged, like it wasn't worth explaining further.

"Uh-huh. Killua being considerate." Gon rolled his eyes, though he was smiling.

"It is considerate of me, Gon. Thanks for noticing." Killua bumped his shoulder against Gon's as they started walking.

The street sat empty in both directions, storefronts dark, not even a stray cat crossing the pavement. Still, something in the back of Gon's neck prickled, faint and unplaceable, the particular discomfort of being looked at by no one he could actually find. He glanced once over his shoulder, found nothing but the shop's dark windows reflecting the streetlight back at him, and let it go, chalking it up to nothing.

Killua's gaze flicked sideways too, quick, almost lazy about it. Barely a beat longer than a normal glance would take. If anything had caught his attention, it didn't show. His stride didn't change, his shoulders stayed loose.

Gon laughed under his breath, tucking his keys into his pocket. The gold lettering—FREECSS MEATS MARKET caught the last of the streetlight before he turned away from it.

"Come on," he said, already walking. "You can decide if you're hungry when we get home."

"I'll decide right now. I'm hungry." Killua fell into step beside him. "Just not for that."

"Then what are you hungry for?" Gon looked sideways at him, curious.

Killua glanced sideways at him, "You'll find out soon." A small, private smile tugged at his mouth as he looked ahead.

The town looked different at night, softer somehow, the day's noise sanded down to something quieter. Streetlamps flickered on in uneven succession, buzzing faintly overhead, casting long amber pools across the cracked sidewalk. Somewhere a few blocks over, a dog barked twice and fell silent. The market square behind them had gone dark and empty, chairs stacked outside the café, the bakery's OPEN sign long since flipped.

Gon walked without any particular hurry, hands tucked loosely in his pockets, the parcel now carried in Killua's grip instead of his own. Killua matched his pace easily, like the two of them had worn this exact path into the pavement a hundred times before.

Further along, the bakery sat dark too, its windows reflecting the streetlamps back at them instead of spilling warm light the way they would come morning, the smell of the day's bread long since faded from the air.

They crossed the empty square, for a while, neither of them said anything. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, more like the kind that settled naturally between two people who didn't feel the need to fill every gap with words. Gon glanced sideways once, twice, watching the streetlight catch in Killua's hair, going gold and then blue again as they passed beneath each lamp.

"No work tonight?" he asked eventually, breaking the peace-fullness without any real urgency behind it.

"Not tonight." Killua's gaze stayed fixed ahead, though something in his shoulders relaxed slightly at the question, like he'd been waiting for Gon to ask. "Told them I needed it off."

"You never take nights off." Gon tilted his head, studying the side of his face. "Ever. I don't think I've seen you skip a shift since you started."

"I do it when I want to." A faint, almost private smile tugged at the corner of Killua's mouth. "Figured I'd rather spend it with you than walking laps around a graveyard for eight hours."

"I still can't believe that's your job." A short laugh escaped him. "Out of everything. Security. At a cemetery."

"Somebody has to make sure nobody's disturbing the dead." Killua shrugged, saying it like a line he'd delivered one too many times to strangers who found it strange. "Pays well. Nobody bothers me. And it's quiet."

"Quiet's your favorite word, huh." Gon nudged him with his elbow, grinning.

"It's underrated." Something warmer flickered behind the deadpan. "Not everyone needs to fill every silence with talking, Gon."

"I resent that." Gon pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense, though he was smiling. "I happen to think silence is boring."

"You think a lot of things are boring."

"Only the things that don't involve you." Gon shot him a sideways grin.

Killua's eyes rolled skyward, though his mouth betrayed him, twitching upward despite himself. "That was almost smooth."

"Almost?" Gon pressed a hand to his chest, feigning offense.

"I'm being generous."

The street began curving away from the last of the shopfronts, leading them out of the market block and toward the residential streets, the buzz of streetlamps giving way to the softer, scattered glow of porch lights instead some houses lit warm and gold behind curtained windows, others already dark for the night.

They passed a leaning mailbox first, then a wind chime someone had never taken down after autumn, stirring faintly in the breeze, its sound thin and hollow. A television flickered blue through a gap in someone's blinds a few houses down, the murmur of it barely audible from the street.

Gon noticed something was wrong, the way he always did, when Killua's silence shifted texture. It wasn't the comfortable kind anymore. His gaze had drifted somewhere distant, past the street, past the buildings, fixed on nothing Gon could see.

"You okay?" he asked, quieter now, all the teasing gone from his voice.

"I'm fine." The answer came too fast. Killua seemed to hear it himself, because he exhaled and tried again, softer. "Just tired."

"Tired-tired? Or the other kind."

Killua glanced at him sideways, something unreadable passing over his face before he let out a short breath, almost a laugh, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "You're asking like you want to fix it."

"I do, I don't mind helping you out again." Gon shrugged, hands still in his pockets.

Killua didn't answer right away. His grip on the parcel tightened slightly, knuckles pale even under the dim orange light. When he finally spoke, his voice had lost some of its usual lightness.

"It's only been a two weeks," he admitted, like the words cost him to say plainly instead of wrapping them in a joke. "Feels like my body's getting weak already."

"I noticed." Gon's voice softened further, no judgment anywhere in it, just steady understanding. "You get like this every time it starts creeping up. You stop finishing your sentences."

"I don't stop finishing my sentences." Killua shot him a flat look.

"You do. You trail off and then pretend you meant to."

Killua huffed, somewhere between annoyed and amused. "You pay too much attention."

"I pay exactly the right amount of attention." Gon bumped his shoulder gently against Killua's. "It's okay, you know. We'll take care of it. Same as always."

"You say that so casually." Killua's voice had gone low, almost bitter, though it wasn't aimed at Gon, more at himself, at the whole shape of the thing he was carrying.

"Because it is casual. To me." Gon glanced over, unshaken in his expression, steady in a way that had nothing performative about it. "You're allowed to hate it, Killua. I just don't."

Killua went silent at that, complicatedly moving behind his eyes. Not quite gratitude, not quite shame, some tangled version of both. He looked away first, back toward the street stretching ahead of them, streetlamp light sliding across his face in slow intervals as they walked beneath each one.

"I do hate it, but I love it at the same time." he said finally, barely above a murmur. "Some nights I do, some I don’t."

"I’m sorry to heart that." Gon didn't push further, didn't ask him to explain which nights, or why. He just reached over and gently tugged the parcel from Killua's grip, taking the weight of it without being asked, like it was the smallest, most obvious thing in the world to do for him.

Killua let him. Didn't argue, didn't reach to take it back. Just kept walking, half a step closer than before, close enough that their arms brushed with every stride.

"I'll get used to this life eventually." He murmured under his breath.

For a while, neither of them said anything else. The tranquil stretched comfortably between them, filled only by the soft scuff of their shoes against pavement and the distant hum of a car passing somewhere blocks away.

"Mari said something weird today," Gon said eventually, glancing sideways, a faint smile already tugging at his mouth.

"When does she not." Killua raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, though there was a flicker of curiosity underneath it.

"She called you my boyfriend." Gon huffed a laugh, shaking his head slightly. "Said to tell you hello."

"Did she." Killua's tone stayed even, almost bored, though something sharper glinted behind his eyes. "And what did you tell her?"

"Nothing." Gon shrugged, a little too quickly. "I didn't correct her, though."

"Interesting." Killua tilted his head slightly, studying him now, a slow smile creeping across his face. "So you just let her believe it."

"I mean—" Gon faltered, glancing away, the back of his neck warming under Killua's stare. "It's not like it's wrong, exactly."

"Careful." Killua stepped half a pace closer, voice dropping low and teasing tone, close enough that Gon could feel the shift in the air between them. "You say stuff like that, and I might actually start believing you want to date."

"Maybe I do mean it." Gon's jaw tightened, though he held Killua's gaze this time, refusing to back down first.

Killua's smile faded, more considering, like he hadn't expected Gon to hold his ground. "Yeah?" His voice had lost its usual mocking edge, gone almost soft, though his eyes stayed sharp, searching.

"Yeah."

Killua's next breath came out slower than the last. "You're really something, Gon. You know that?" Killua murmured, gaze flicking briefly to Gon's mouth before dragging back up.

"So I've been told." A short laugh broke the moment, though the edge in it had gone warm, real. "Don't let it go to your head." He flicked Gon's forehead.

"Too late." Gon grinned, watching him with open fondness now, unbothered by the flick. "It's making its own special place inside my brain."

They kept walking, the residential block narrowing further, porch lights growing more frequent, familiar shapes emerging from the dark hedges trimmed low, a wind sock hanging limp on someone's fence post, the occasional glow of a bedroom light clicking off as they passed beneath it.

Killua's pace hadn't changed, not really. But something in the way he carried himself had a stillness that had crept into his shoulders somewhere between one streetlamp and the next, the kind of stillness that took effort to maintain. His eyes moved without his head turning, catching the gaps between houses, the deeper dark pooled beneath the hedges, then sliding forward again before Gon could follow where he'd looked.

Gon noticed the sudden change of Killua. He didn't say anything yet. Some things he'd learned went smoother if he let Killua get there first.

The streetlamps thinned the further they walked, spaced further apart now, more distance between each pool of amber light than there'd been in the houses. In the gaps between them, the dark felt fuller somehow—not empty, just patient.

Something moved at the edge of it. Not close. Not clear. Just a shift in the shape of the shadows along the tree line two yards over, there and then not, gone before Gon's eyes could properly land on it.

Killua's hand found his sleeve. Not gripping, just resting there, light, like it had happened without his permission.

"You feel that?" Gon asked quietly, testing.

"No." The answer came too smooth, too immediate, the kind of no that meant yes. Killua's throat moved once, swallowing something down. "Keep walking."

Gon kept walking.

The quiet between them had changed texture, the comfortable kind curdling into something closer to held breath, both of them listening now, neither admitting it. Their footsteps sounded too loud against the pavement, too exposed, the kind of sound that carried further than it should on a night like this.

A branch cracked somewhere off to the left, not close, but not far enough either. Killua's whole body went taut beside him, one sharp inhale through his nose, gone as fast as it came. He didn't stop walking. His grip on Gon's sleeve tightened, just slightly, just enough to feel.

"It's fine," Killua murmured, though nobody had asked. His voice had thinned out, careful, the kind of carefulness that came from years of practice keeping his face doing one thing while everything underneath it did another. "Ignore it."

Gon didn't ask what "it" was. He'd learned that too.

The tree line ran alongside them now, close enough that Gon could smell the damp green of it, the cold breathing off the dark in a way that had nothing to do with the season. Somewhere in it, something was keeping pace. Not hurrying. Not hiding, exactly, either. Just watching, the way something patient watches something it's already decided it'll get to eventually.

Killua's jaw stayed locked the entire last stretch, his eyes fixed dead ahead, refusing to give whatever was out there the satisfaction of being looked at.

The porch light came into view like a held breath finally released. Killua's hand slipped from Gon's sleeve the second the gate was in reach, his shoulders dropping all at once, the careful mask cracking just enough for something raw and tired to show through before he smoothed it back over.

"Home sweet home," Gon said, voice deliberately light, nudging the gate open with his foot since his hands were full — though his eyes flicked once, briefly, toward the trees before he followed Killua through.

Neither of them looked back a second time.

"Barely counts as sweet." Killua stepped through first, glancing back at him, something warm flickering behind the usual deadpan. "But sure."

"You say that every time." Gon followed him up the short path, the parcel still tucked securely against his side.

"Because it's true every time." Killua reached for his keys, pausing at the door to glance back at him, expression unreadable for a moment. "Doesn't mean I don't like coming back to it, though."

Gon's expression shifted at that, as he watched him unlock the door. "Good to know," he said simply, following him inside as the porch light clicked off behind them, plunging the house into the dim, familiar dark of home.

The house was silent the moment the door clicked shut behind them—a familiar, lived-in silence, broken only by the soft hum of the refrigerator somewhere down the hall and the faint creak of old floorboards settling under their weight.

Killua moved through the dark without needing the lights, flicking on a single lamp near the couch instead of the overhead. Soft, low light spilling across the room, leaving most of the corners still shadowed. He set his keys down on the small table by the door, the same spot they always landed, and rolled his shoulders once, like he was shedding the last of the evening air still clinging to him.

"You want anything?" he asked, glancing back toward Gon, who was still toeing off his shoes near the entrance.

"I'm good." Gon straightened, glancing around the familiar space. "You're the one who needs to eat."

"Don't remind me." Killua huffed, dragging a hand back through his hair. "I was hoping you'd forget."

"I never forget anything." Gon crossed the room, setting the parcel down gently on the kitchen counter, the paper crinkling softly under his hands. "You know that."

"Yeah." Killua leaned against the doorway separating the kitchen from the living room, arms crossed loosely over his chest, watching him with an expression that had gone quieter, more unreadable. "I do know that."

"Do you know? I'm pretty sure I forget." Gon didn't move away.

"You tell me. You're the one who keeps feeding me. Never forgetting too." Killua's gaze flicked down to the counter, then back up, amusement flickering across his face.

"Somebody has to." Gon huffed, reaching over to nudge him back half a step so he could actually work. ”And that somebody will be me.” He murmured under his breath.

The kitchen had soft creamy white walls, a dark wood beam running the ceiling, marble counters. Ceramic dishware in creams and muted olive sat arranged on open shelving, pots hung above the stove. A dark wood table by the window held a woven runner and a small vase of dried lavender, untouched but clearly intentional.

"Lucky I like your cooking, then." Killua said.

"You've never actually said that before." Gon raised an eyebrow, already turning to dig through the fridge for the rest of what he needed.

"I'm saying it now dummy." Killua hopped up onto the counter beside the stove, watching him with open interest now, some of the earlier heaviness gone from his shoulders. "Manage your expectations accordingly."

"My expectations are already high. You're the one who's gonna have to deal with that." Gon shot him a look over his shoulder, grinning.

Killua rolled his eyes, though he didn't argue back.

Gon set the pan to heat and waited without impatience, watching the surface until it caught the light just right. He had never once rushed anything worth doing properly.

He scored the fat first, the knife moving in a series of small, identical incisions, each one evenly spaced, each one silent until the next began. There was something almost liturgical in the repetition. He liked the stillness that followed each cut more than the cut itself.

The fat rendered slow, and he watched it the way one watches something die quietly, imminent, unblinking, entirely still. Garlic went in whole, crushed flat beneath the blade in a single motion, papery skin curling back like something surrendering. Rosemary followed, torn.

He basted without urgency, spooning the fat over the meat in long, identical passes, his face giving away nothing except the faint, private satisfaction of a man watching something become exactly what he intended it to become.

"You're doing that seriousness thing you always do, Gon." Killua said eventually, chin propped on his hand, watching him baste the meat with the rendered fat.

"What thing?" Gon didn't look up, focused on the pan.

"Where you get all serious and silent like this is a competition. You're not in Hell's Kitchen, Gon." 

"It's not a competition." Gon flipped the meat once, clean, the sear unbroken, crispy at the edges. "I just like doing it right. And I would be the perfect candidate for Gorden Ramsay."

Killua arched an eyebrow and sighed heavily.

"that’s odd." Killua hopped off the counter, going over to sit at the table.

"Is there a problem?" Gon glanced over now, brow raised. 

"No. It's just annoying how good you are when it comes to meat."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Gon chuckled, turning back to the stove. He plated it in silence. The pork centered without measuring, vegetables arranged around it in a slow, exact arc, one clean line of sauce drawn across the plate and nothing more.

He set the plate down in front of Killua. "Dinner is served."

Killua stared down at it for a moment. He picked up the fork Gon handed him, turning it over once before finally cutting into the meat.

Gon watched, arms crossed loosely, leaning back against the counter, waiting.

Killua took the first bite slowly, chewing, and something in his shoulders smoothed, all at once, tension bleeding out of him like it had been let out of a valve.

"Well?" Gon asked.

"...It's good." Killua admitted it like it physically pained him.

"Just good?" Gon's grin widened, insufferably pleased with himself.

"Don't push it." Killua pointed the fork at him, though he was already taking another bite, faster this time, some of his earlier hesitance gone completely.

"I'm not pushing anything." Gon held his hands up in mock surrender, though his smile said otherwise. "I'm just saying. You could say it's amazing. I wouldn't stop you."

"You're never gonna let this go, are you."

"Nope." Gon pulled himself up onto the counter across from him, watching him eat with quiet contentment. "Not a chance."

Killua shook his head, but he kept eating steady, unhurried now, all the earlier tightness gone from his frame.

They lingered in the kitchen long after the plate had been cleared, Killua sat cross-legged in the chair, fork abandoned beside the empty plate, looking more like himself with every passing minute.

Gon busied himself rinsing the pan in the sink, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Steam curled faintly off the hot water, fogging the window above the sink just slightly.

"How was the shop today?" Killua asked eventually, breaking the silence.

"Same as always." Gon glanced back at him over his shoulder, scrubbing at a stubborn spot on the pan. "Ms Bisky came in for her usual. Told me about the guy she's seeing now."

"The one from the bar?" Killua raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious now, tucking one leg up onto the counter and resting his chin against his knee.

"I don't know, there's apparently a new one every few weeks." Gon huffed a laugh, shaking his head slightly, water dripping from his hands as he reached for the towel hanging off the oven handle. "She said she might bring him to the shop. Says she wants to see if he can handle it."

"Handle what, exactly?" Killua's mouth curved into something amused. "Watching you gut a pig before noon?"

"Apparently that's the test." Gon dried his hands, leaning back against the counter now, arms crossing loosely over his chest. "I told her most people can handle a butcher shop. Unless you see the dead animals."

"Smart test, honestly." Killua tilted his head, considering. "Filters out the weak ones early."

"Anyway." Gon pushed off the counter, moving to flick off the stove light, the kitchen dimming slightly around them, "Business was good today. Sold almost everything before closing. Had to cut into tomorrow's stock a little early."

Killua watched him move around the kitchen, something fond settling into his expression as he did. "You say that like it's a surprise every time."

"It kind of is, every time." Gon leaned against the counter beside him now, close enough that their shoulders almost touched. "People like good meat. What can I say."

"They like good meat, or they like you." Killua glanced sideways at him, something teasing creeping back into his voice.

"Can't it be both?" Gon nudged him lightly with his elbow.

"Sure it can." Killua rolled his eyes, though he was smiling now too, something soft and unguarded settling behind the usual dryness.

Killua finally hopped down off the counter, stretching once, the movement loose, before glancing back at Gon with something easy in his expression.

"Come on," he said, tilting his head toward the hallway. "You cooked. I'll pick the movie."

"Your taste in movies is terrible." Gon pushed off the counter to follow him anyway, already smiling.

"You still watch them with me every time." Killua glanced back over his shoulder, smug, already heading down the hall.

"Because you'd sulk if I didn't." Gon fell into step behind him, the kitchen light clicking off behind them as they went, the house settling further into its quiet, familiar dark.

The hallway was dim, Killua led the way without bothering to turn on another light, familiar enough with the house to navigate it by feeling alone, sock feet silent against the hardwood.

Gon followed a step behind, watching the easy line of his shoulders, the loose way he moved now that the worst of the evening was behind him. It was strange, still, after all this time. How quickly Killua could shift from something raw and strained to this, soft and languid.

The living room came into view slowly, shapes emerging from the dark. The worn couch pushed against the far wall, a low coffee table scattered with the remains of some book Killua had never finished, the television dark and waiting in the corner. Killua dropped onto the couch first, sinking into the cushions with a quiet exhale, reaching for the remote resting on the arm.

Gon lingered near the doorway for a moment, just watching him, something soft and quiet settling behind his ribs.

"You gonna stand there all night?" Killua asked without looking up, already scrolling through something on the screen, the blue light washing pale across his face.

"Just admiring the view." Gon's mouth curved, pushing off the doorway to cross the room.

"The view's better if you sit down." Killua glanced up then, something teasing flickering behind his eyes, patting the cushion beside him.

Gon dropped down next to him, the couch dipping slightly under his weight, close enough that their knees brushed. He stretched his arm along the back of the couch, not quite touching Killua's shoulders, though the intent behind it was obvious enough that Killua huffed a quiet laugh under his breath.

"Now that was a smooth move, Gon," Killua muttered, not looking away from the screen, though he shifted slightly, closing the last of the distance until his shoulder rested lightly against Gon's chest.

"Thanks." Gon's voice had gone softer, quieter, watching him more than the television now.

The room settled into a comfortable hush, the glow of the screen the only real light left, throwing shifting colors across the walls and across Killua's face as he scrolled, clearly in no rush to actually pick anything. Outside, the wind picked up faintly, brushing branches against the window somewhere down the hall, the house creaking softly around them the way old houses always did.

Something cracked outside—sharp, close, heavier than a branch settling. A beat of silence followed it, too complete, like the whole yard had gone still to listen along with them.

"Was that the wind?" Gon didn't even glance toward the window, thumb still tracing idle lines against Killua's shoulder.

"There was no wind tonight." Killua's voice had flattened out, all the earlier warmth gone from it in an instant. His whole body had gone rigid where it rested against Gon's chest—not dramatic, nothing that screamed for attention, just a stillness that hadn't been there a second before, his jaw tight, his eyes fixed somewhere past the dark window instead of the screen.

"Killua?" Gon's hand slowed against his shoulder, some of the ease draining out of his own voice too, matching the shift without quite understanding it yet.

"It's fine." Killua's fingers had curled slightly against his own knee, knuckles pale, though his voice stayed level, deliberately so. A long moment passed before his shoulders finally eased, some effort visible in the way he let them. "Probably just a raccoon."

Gon studied the side of his face a beat longer than necessary, something unspoken passing behind his own eyes, not quite fear, more like recognition, the particular quiet of someone choosing not to ask a question he already half-knew the answer to.

"Probably," he echoed, gentle, unpushing.

Killua exhaled slowly, and the tension bled back out of him by inches, his shoulder settling against Gon's chest again like nothing had happened at all. Whatever had gone still outside stayed still, the yard beyond the window folding back into ordinary dark.

"You're not even looking at the options," Gon pointed out eventually, glancing down at him, amused, gently steering them both back toward easier ground.

"I'm building suspense." Killua tilted his head back against Gon's arm, looking up at him instead, something gentle and lazy in his expression now.

"Is that what we're calling it?" Gon's fingers finally rested against Killua's shoulder, thumb tracing an idle line back and forth.

"That's exactly what we're calling it." Killua's gaze held his. Gon didn't look away. He rarely did, not from this, not from him. His hand shifted slightly, fingers brushing along the side of Killua's neck, feather-light, testing.

Killua's breath caught, barely audible, though his eyes didn't leave Gon's, something unguarded flickering behind the usual dry composure.

"You're staring," Killua murmured, voice lower now, quieter than before.

"I like looking at you. You're beautiful." Gon said it simply, without embarrassment.

Killua huffed something that might have been a laugh, though it came out softer, breathier than usual, his gaze dropping briefly to Gon's mouth before dragging back up. "You're gonna make me say something embarrassing if you keep doing that."

"I don't mind embarrassment." Gon's voice had dropped too, quieter, more intent, his hand still resting warm against the side of Killua's neck.

The remote slipped from Killua's fingers, forgotten entirely now, abandoned somewhere in the cushions between them. He shifted, turning more fully toward Gon, the movement slow and deliberate, closing what little distance remained.

"Fine. Okay." Killua's voice had gone barely above a whisper, "I like this. Being here. With you."

"I know you do." Gon's other hand came up, brushing gently along Killua's jaw, tilting his face up slightly. "I like it too."

For a long moment, neither of them moved, the television still glowing faintly, forgotten, the living room quiet except for the soft sound of their breathing.

Then Killua closed the distance himself, deliberately—no hesitation left in it at all. The kiss was soft at first, slow, like neither of them had anywhere else to be, Gon's hand still resting warm against his jaw, Killua's fingers curling loosely into the front of his shirt.

When they finally broke apart, it was only by a breath, foreheads still close, the space between them charged all at once. Killua's eyes stayed half-lidded, something lazy and pleased settling into his expression as he pulled back just enough to look at him properly.

"You know," he murmured, voice still low, "you never actually gave me the specialty tonight."

Gon blinked, the words taking a second to land. "The what?"

"The butcher's specialty." Killua's mouth curved slowly, deliberately, watching the realization dawn across Gon's face. "You distracted me with dinner. And then this."

"Oh no." Gon's expression shifted into something exaggeratedly pained, leaning back slightly, though he made no real effort to put distance between them. "Darn. I really thought you forgot about that one."

"You did not think that." Killua raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"I was hoping." Gon sighed dramatically, though his eyes were bright, the performance falling apart almost as soon as he'd started it.

"You're a terrible liar." Killua leaned back in, closing the distance again, voice dropping into something low and teasing right against his ear. "I can tell you are right now."

"Can you?" Gon's breath hitched slightly despite himself, though his mouth had curved into a grin he wasn't bothering to hide anymore.

"Yeah. I can." Killua pulled back just enough to meet his eyes again, smug, clearly enjoying himself now. "You have this look on your face. Like you're trying so hard to seem reluctant."

"Maybe I am reluctant." Gon's grin only widened, betraying him completely.

"Uh-huh." Killua's fingers tightened in the front of his shirt, tugging him back in just slightly, testing. "Sure you are."

"Ugh, fine." Gon huffed a laugh, finally dropping the act entirely, something warm and fond settling into his expression as he looked at him. "You caught me. I wasn't hoping you'd forget."

"It was clearly obvious Gon." Killua's smile turned softer at that, something quieter passing behind his eyes.

"Can't help it." Gon shrugged, unbothered, reaching up to brush a strand of white hair back from Killua's face, the gesture slow and familiar. "I like fucking around with you." Gon's hand slid down, resting against the side of his neck again, thumb brushing gently along his jaw.

Killua huffed something close to a laugh, shaking his head slowly, despite leaning into the touch anyway, "Do you now." His lips parted on the private joke he knew.

"So." Gon tilted his head slightly. "The specialty. Now?"

"Now." Killua's smile turned slow and private, already pulling back to glance toward the hallway.

Something playful flickering behind his eyes. "Upstairs," he said, already moving to stand, tugging Gon up with him by the front of his shirt.

"Bossy." Gon let himself be pulled, stumbling slightly into him, laughing under his breath.

"Only when it comes to this." Killua's grin was sharp, pleased with himself, backing toward the stairs.

Gon reached for him again, but Killua was quicker, ducking low and hooking an arm behind his knees before he could react, lifting him clean off the floor.

"Killua—" Gon yelped, grabbing for his shoulders on instinct, half laughing, half startled.

"Relax. I've got you." Killua adjusted his grip easily, like Gon weighed nothing at all, already heading for the stairs with him held securely against his chest.

"This is ridiculous." Gon's arms looped around his neck anyway, grinning despite himself, face close to Killua's now.

"You're the one who kept talking about how strong I am." Killua smirked, taking the stairs two at a time without so much as a change in his breathing.

"I was buttering you up." Gon casted a glance sideways.

"Sure you were." Killua glanced down at him, slowing as they reached the top of the stairs.

He nudged his bedroom door open with his shoulder, carrying Gon inside without ceremony. The room was big, tucked under the slope of the roof, lit only by a single lamp on the nightstand, its amber shade softening the light into something low and golden, pooling warmth across the navy sheets and leaving the corners in soft shadow.

He set Gon down gently at the edge of the bed in the middle of the room, following him down a moment later, hands braced on either side of him.

"Hi," Gon murmured, looking up at him, breathless in a way that had nothing to do with being carried.

"Hi." Killua's voice had dropped low again, as he leaned down.

Gon met him halfway, hands sliding up to rest against his chest, fingers curling loosely into the fabric of his shirt as the kiss deepened, slow and unhurried.

Killua's hand came up to cradle the side of his face, thumb brushing gently along his cheekbone, and Gon made a quiet, pleased sound against his mouth, pulling him closer.

Gon didn't stay sitting down for long, he wanted to be way more closer with Killua. Close enough to feel his body heat. He lunged right at switching places with Killua so he could lean more on the edge of the bed.

The kiss turned more aggressive. Tongues sliding together, tension built up from hours of holding it back finally releasing. Killua broke the kiss just long enough to pull off each other's shirts. The skin on skin contact makes them both shiver. They dive back in for another aggressive kiss, hands now roaming everywhere.

Gon broke the kiss this time, both staring back. His constant leer made it clear what Killua was thinking. Gon admired Killua's bare chest before noticing. On Killua's chest lay a reminder, a scar. The lines on his chest were no longer bleeding, but they had swollen into thick, rubbery ridges of deep magenta that sat high against his skin like a wax stamp.

Killua laid down sinking into the mattress, a faint, teasing smile tugging at his lips. The light caught along his collarbone. "Are you gonna keep staring or are you gonna—"

Gon blinked, pulled back just enough to focus again, his thoughts scattering like startled birds. "Yea—yeah sorry. Just got distracted."

He slid in-between Killua, pushing his thighs beside his waist. Reaching for his neck. Nibbling, biting softly, and giving wet kisses.

Killua gulped hard and bit his lip, trying to suppress any sound. Unfortunately, his plan failed when Gon's fingers traveled to his chest and landed on his nipple. He circled his thumb around, pinching and rubbing it tenderly. Making Killua let out soft moans.

Gon stopped sucking on the boy's neck although his fingers kept going. "Do you want me to wear a condom this time or no?"

"Definitely." His voice cracked for a moment. "Last time you didn't, I felt sticky everywhere." He groaned, rolling his eyes.

"Okay hold on," Gon arose, he wiped his spit from the back of his palm. His eyes sharpened at Killua.

"I expect to see your pants off the moment I return," Gon said—turning his back and heading towards the drawer. Not even a second later, he heard a swift swish.

Gon stopped mid tracks and sprung around. He saw Killua naked now, his cock twitched slightly, Gon's heart almost skipped a beat.

"Done." Killua sighed, extending his arms toward the ceiling.

"That's fast? Wow, someone's eager." Gon eyed him up and down, his heart thumped harder. He was excited. He twisted his body backward and walked across the bed to the other side, opening the drawer.

There, he discovered condoms and lubricants. The variety of lubricants was overwhelming. Gon sighed loudly. Should I grab a flavored lubricant? Maybe cherry this time? He ran his fingers through his hair.

He then decided to forget about the flavored lubricants and opted for silicone-based one. He also made sure he didn't forget to grab a condom.

He walked back over and stood in front of Killua, his hands full. "Here, hold this." Gon asked, handing over the lube beside the condom. He took the square and bit down on it.

His face lit up, but he instantly forced a scowl. "Why should I hold it?" he shot back playfully.

"Because I need to take off my pants now." He mumbled in a resonant lisp. Gon unzipped his jeans, taking both the pants and his boxers off. He stepped out of the pile. Then, he placed his thumb on Killua's chin, lowering Killua's head slightly down. With his free hand, Gon pulled open the rubber, gazing into Killua's sea-colored eyes.

Killua playfully smacked Gon's chest. "Quit playing around and fuck me." He placed his hands onto Gon's shoulders.

"As you wish, your majesty." He spat out the empty wrapper, and the foil crinkled as it hit the floor. Sliding the rubber all the way down to his base.

Gon then nudged Killua on the bed.

God. Killua's body was incredibly good looking. Gon's erection hardened even further in response to Killua. Golden light traced the curves of his pale naked body, highlighting him.

Gon then grabbed Killua's hipbones and pulled him to the edge of the bed. Killua positioned himself upright, using his arms for support.

Gon placed Killua's left leg over his shoulder. The lube cap popped open, Gon coated his fingers the slick formula. He lowered his hand near Killua's entrance. "Im gonna put my finger in. Okay?"

Killua's heart pounded loudly with each passing second. "You don't need to tell me just do it." He trembled from his arousal. Averting his eyes to the wooden floor.

Gon looked at the nervous white-haired boy beneath him. "I think it's adorable when you look shy."

Killua's eyes snapped back up, fixated on the focus boy in front of him. "Shut—augh!" He sharply gasped. Killua felt Gon's cold gel fingers penetrate him.

His body began to heat up, and his face turned redder by the second.

"How does it feel?" Gon inspected Killua's face, moving his finger around.

"It's g-good. I don't know!" Killua sucked in a breath. He arched his back on the bed.

Gon's lips curled into a mischievous smile as slowly moved his long finger in and out of the other man's delicate entrance

Killua felt tense, he couldn't even hide his twitching dick due to his legs being either side of Gon, holding him open and exposed as his length stays neglected, only being touched by the cold air whilst his hole gets abused as the boy seeps in another finger inside.

"How's this now?" Gon questioned. He pulled his digits apart, scissoring Killua's hole and stretching him wider.

"Really—really great." Killua gulped, the shift in Killua's voice made Gon quite satisfied. "Could you—"

Gon's fingers curled upwards into his prostate.

"F-fuck.." A pleased hum came out. His legs couldn't help but spasm and kick.

Gon grabbed hard onto his left leg. Trying to keep it in place. "Keep moving and I'll stop."

"NO—no.. please don't." he said, his voice dropping to a desperate whisper as he forced himself to calm down.

"Good. That's what I wanted to hear." Gon kept his pace before gradually speeding up.

Killua's eyes rolled back, his hands clenching the bed sheets. He arched his back continuously, letting out grunts and soft moans.

Then Gon fastened up his pace on the sensitive organ. "Do you want me to put it in?" He said smoothly, voice calm. As he caressed Killua's smooth thighs.

"YES—!" He bit back the rest of the shout, his voice dropping into a strained, hushed rumble. "God, yes," he breathed, a low moan escaping anyway.

Gon slowly took his fingers out, Killuas cock was leaking pre-cum as he lined his tip at Killua's entrance. "You're such a good boy." He pushed the head all the way in—sinking deeper. Easily and slowly. Killua bit back a grunt. Instinctively, he wrapped his legs around Gon's waist, pulling him in.

His thrusts are slow at first but soon he picked up the pace. "Let me hear you." He placed his thumb on the edge of Killua's teeth, opening his mouth just wide enough to allow a faint sound to come out. Killua bit down lightly, Gon could feel the radiating heat coming from his mouth, the sharp teeth clamped down lightly.

"Jesus." his breath hitched, his nails dragged on Gon's arm, "Go faster.." Killua begged in a raspy voice.

Gon's jaw clenched, he grabbed Killua's hipbones, planting his fingers on the bone. Thrusting even deeper now. Every hit to his prostate sent a shockwave of pleasure throughout Killua's body that made his noises uncontrollable.

"Fuck, Killua," he rasps, pulling out an inch and groaning again as he thrusts completely in again. "Fuck.."

Killua gave a muffled gasp at the movement. "Gon..” he cooed. “Is this all you can do~?" he provoked the boy, intentionally pushing his buttons to see how he'd react.

Gon growled, realizing that he was also on the edge. "You're gonna regret saying that," Gon murmured, he anchored both hands firmly to Killua's ass, bracing himself as he lifted. Pressing into him, standing and moving to pin Killua to a nearby wall. The moment Killua's naked body touched the wall, it was insanely cold, sending a shiver down his spine.

His head fell back against the wall, his hips bucking. Gon continued his thrusts at a slow pace. Gon's calloused hands held him upright.

"Keep g-going...right there~!" Gon slammed him roughly, his ass pressed against the freezing wall, causing him to cry out.

The sensation of being stretched and invaded was almost unbearable, but the pleasure quickly surpassed the pain.

He wrapped his legs around his waist, tighter, urging him more. "Deeper," he panted, his nails digging deeper into Gon's shoulder.

"Aww.. you're taking my cock so good.." he angled his length, Killua's mouth parted open, "I'm going to ruin you." His pace brutally fastened.

"F-FUCK! Don't s-stop.!" An embarrassingly loud whimper left his mouth. Killua felt more lightheaded now, the air thickened with sweat. He melted into Gon's shoulder, moaning a mixture of curse words and Gon's name.

"I love the sounds you make.." Gon's voice slurred. He put his hand on Killua's arse, grabbing it hard, keeping him upright. Then reached down and stroked Killua's untouched member.

He bit down on his lips hard.

As Gon maintained his rapid pace, he managed to match the same pace while stroking Killua's cock. He started bucking his hips back and forth at a speeding pace, hitting Killua’s sweet spot again and again in each thrust.

Gon could no longer speak; only heavy breathing and moans escaped his lips as he thrusted. Killua saw and heard the state Gon going through, "is s-someone getting t-tired now?" He managed to say.

"You just feel—so fucking tight." Gon gasped, "how can i resist you?" He buried his face, breathing against Killua's damp skin.

He put both hands on Gon's chest. "Don't resist. Just FUCK ME." A lopsided grin spread across his face.

Gon obeyed and pushed him even harder against the wall, angling himself to reach even further, hitting his prostate ruthlessly now. Rhythmic claps echoed through the room.

Killua screamed louder and louder as he clawed the Gon’s shoulders, overwhelmed with ecstatic bliss.

Both their pants and moans combined together. Killua bit down on Gon's sticky shoulder. He felt his teeth sink in harder this time. Which did make Gon scared for a second. I mean, come on. He's a cannibal.

The bite didn’t cut through his skin barrier. Thankfully. It kept Killua from moaning loudly, despite already being loud before. Killua was in absolute nonsense as Gon went in and out.

Killua's saliva started to drool down onto the floor. The pulsing in his cock became more throbbing, matching his heartbeat as Gon jerked him off. Killua's body trembled; he came with one last groan, his thick, creamy, load spilling across Gon's and his own stomach.

Gon fucked him through it until he eventually reaches his own climax. "You.. did so good." Gon spoke, as the last pumps of cum drip onto his fingers. “How did it feel?” His words came in ragged gasps, and sweat trickled down his forehead.

Killua pulled back from his shoulder, he swallowed hard and studied Gon's damp flawless face. A soft expression appeared. "It was amazing."

"That's great too—"

"Though the last time I asked for the specialty, it was much better." He added cutting Gon off.

"Last time?" Gon tilted his head. Then he remembered. "You mean with the blood and organs?"

"Yeah."

"Wow you really are a freaky guy." He lifted his hand, gently cupping his cheek.

”Can’t help it.” Killua let out a breathy heh, quickly shifting his gaze to the wall.

“Well it’s a good thing I enjoyed it too.” He moved aside Killua's bangs and gave him a kiss on his forehead. "Let me get us clean, hold on." He slowly pulled his rod out of Killua, Killua whimpered at the sudden emptiness.

Gon carefully set him on the ground. Killua's knees almost collapsed as his feet touched the cold floor. But he caught himself before disaster struck.

Gon walked over to the bathroom, removing his condom and throwing it into the trashcan. While in there he grabbed a towel set on the counter, maybe it was put there on purpose, maybe it wasn't. All Gon could care about is cleaning up Killua.

He returned to Killua in matter of seconds, wiping away the cum on them. Afterward, they put back on their boxers, getting in bed together.

 

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

 

The room had gone still again, the lamp still burning. Throwing gold light across the rumpled sheets. Killua lay on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, breathing still settling back into rest fullness. Gon curled against his side, leg thrown over his head resting against his shoulder, one arm draped loosely across his bare chest.

"Mari also mentioned one more thing—Retz, today." Gon said eventually, voice lazy against the stillness of the room.

"Mm." Killua's eyes stayed closed, entirely unbothered, chest rising slowly and even beneath Gon's arm. "What'd she say this time?"

"Same as before. Nobody's seen her. Stall's just sitting there. People are starting to actually wonder now."

"Let them wonder." Killua's mouth curved faintly, eyes still closed, utterly at ease. "Nobody's going to connect a missing debt-collector's least favorite girl to us. We've got no reason to worry. It's not like she's the first person to disappear in this town."

"I killed her for you and nobody even looked at me twice." Gon said it plainly, no hesitation in it at all, something almost proud threading through his voice. "Dragged her down to your basement. Nobody even noticed she was gone until days later."

"Damn, when you say it like that. It's easy for you." Killua cracked one eye open, glancing down at him, faint amusement flickering behind the words.

"It was easy." Gon's smile widened slowly, nothing close to guilt, spreading across his face—no fear in it at all. If anything, he looked pleased, settling closer against him, arm tightening slightly where it rested over Killua's chest. "I liked doing it. For you."

"You say that like it's a good thing." Killua huffed, though he was watching him now, something faintly amused in his expression.

"It is a good thing." Gon propped himself up slightly on one elbow, looking down at him properly, something bright and untroubled in his eyes. "Nobody's ever going to know what happened to her. And that it was for you. That's all that matters to me." His grip tightened again, pulling Killua closer against him, like the thought of it lingered.

"You liked it," Killua said slowly, testing the words, watching Gon's face for any flicker of denial. "Not just for me. You actually liked doing it."

"Yeah." Gon didn't even hesitate, didn't look away, didn't dress it up as anything other than what it was. "Is that bad?"

Killua was quiet for a long moment, something working behind his eyes. Then, slowly, the corner of his mouth curved upward. "No," he said finally, almost fond. "Guess it's not."

"You're not weirded out?" Gon tilted his head slightly, watching him with open curiosity now. “I fed you her heart.”

"So? I’m supposed to be scared over that?" Killua huffed a short laugh, shaking his head slowly, hand coming up to rest against the side of Gon's face. "Im used to eating people like that, other than it getting shoved down my throat.. I've got a monthly body count requirement and a scar on my chest from a demon monster thing. I don't really get to be the one who's weirded out by anything anymore."

"You do have a point." Gon grinned, leaning into the touch, entirely unbothered.

"Besides." Killua's thumb brushed once against his cheekbone, something quieter and more genuine settling into his voice now. "It's kind of hot, actually. That you liked killing her."

"I like the sound of that." Gon's grin widened, something pleased and a little smug creeping into his expression.

It was then, shifting closer, that his hand slid slightly lower across Killua's chest, thumb catching against the cross line of scar tissue there—raised, jagged in places, familiar under his fingers even after all this time. He traced it slowly, the lamp still lit enough to actually see it properly instead of just feeling it in the dark like he usually did.

"Two months before you met me," Gon said quietly, not really a question, just something he was turning over out loud. "That's when it happened, right?"

“Yeah.” Killua’s jaw tightened slightly, still he didn’t pull away, gaze fixed on the ceiling instead of on him. “Fourteen months now, I guess. Feels longer than that, some days.”

"We've known each other for almost a year now." Gon's fingers traced the mark again, slower, more deliberate. "You've had this curse the whole time I've known you."

"Every single day of it." Killua's voice had gone low, something old and tired bleeding into it.

Gon's touch stayed gentle over the scar, no hesitation in it, no recoil. "Does it still hurt?"

"Not the way it used to." Killua studied him. carefully watching the way Gon touched it, like it was just another part of him instead of something to flinch from. "It aches sometimes. Right before I need to feed. Like it's reminding me."

His hand coming up to rest against the back of Gon's head, fingers threading gently through his hair.

"That must suck." Gon leaned down, pressing a slow kiss just above the mark, reverent almost. "But hey, at least you have a cool scar."

Killua's fingers drifted upward after a moment, brushing lightly against the shell of Gon's right ear, tracing carefully along the edge where his teeth had caught days before. "How's this doing, by the way," he murmured, something quieter and more careful creeping into his voice now. "I keep forgetting to ask."

"It's fine." Gon tilted his head slightly into the touch. "No infection. Barely even sore anymore."

"Good." Killua's thumb brushed over it once more, gentle, almost apologetic despite himself. "I still don't know what came over me."

"It's okay, Killua." Gon said it plainly, a small smile tugging at his mouth. "It barely even hurt."

"Doesn't mean I feel good about it." Killua's voice stayed low, yet some of the tension eased slightly at Gon's easy reassurance.

"Well, I feel good about it." Gon caught his hand, pressing a light kiss to his palm before settling back down against him. "So that's that."

Killua let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head, but he didn't remove his hand from the surface.

"Do you ever miss how it used to be?" Gon asked eventually, voice quiet, idle, his thumb still tracing slow circles against Killua's chest. "You and me specifically, in the beginning. Before I found out."

"Depends what part you're asking about." Killua's eyes were closed again, mouth curved faintly.

Gon propped his chin against his shoulder, glancing up at him. "Well there’s lots of parts like…. what about that shop? The adult store we went to that one time."

Killua cracked one eye open, already looking faintly amused. "You mean the one where you almost knocked over an entire display of glass dildos?"

"That was one time." Gon's face went slightly warm, yet he was laughing under his breath. "I didn't know it was that fragile."

"It had a sign, Gon. It said fragile." Killua smacked his arm lightly

"I was distracted." Gon rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish.

"By what, exactly?" Killua's grin widened, teasing now, watching him squirm slightly.

"You know by what." Gon huffed, burying his face briefly against Killua's shoulder, though he was smiling too. "That was so long ago. We weren't even—we were just messing around back then."

"Mm. Simpler times." Killua's voice had gone softer, something faintly nostalgic threading through the teasing now. "Before you decided to get all sappy on me."

"I was never sappy." Gon lifted his head, mock offended.

"You cried at that stupid rom-com two weeks after we met." Killua poked him square in the chest, grinning. "That movie was emotionally manipulative." Gon swatted his hand away, indignant.

"Sure it was." Killua's smile was fond despite the teasing, shaking his head slowly. "Anyway. Yeah. I remember that shop. That was your idea, by the way. I want that on record."

"It was a good idea." Gon grinned, unrepentant.

"It was a terrible idea." Killua's expression flattened slightly, though there was no real heat behind it. "You do remember whose brother worked there."

"I remember." Gon's grin only widened, clearly delighted by the memory now. "You went even more pale when you saw him behind the counter. I thought you were gonna turn around and walk straight back out."

"I almost did. I probably should’ve." Killua dragged a hand down his face, groaning. "I had three seconds to decide whether meeting my own brother's eyes over a shelf of sex toys was worse than just leaving you there alone.”

"And you choose to stayed with me." Gon nudged his knee with his own.

"Because you'd already wandered off toward the register like an idiot." Killua shot him a look, though it was more fond than annoyed at this point. "I wasn't about to let you talk to Illumi by yourself. God knows what he would've said to you."

"He was very professional, actually." Gon said it earnestly, which only seemed to make it worse.

"That's exactly the problem." Killua's voice had gone slightly strangled at the memory. "My own brother. Measuring things. With a tape measure. Making eye contact with me the entire time like it was completely normal."

"He didn't even blink."

"He never blinks. That's not the point." Killua shook his head slowly, though the corner of his mouth had started twitching despite himself. "The point is I had to stand there and watch my brother discuss return policies with my—" He gestured vaguely between them. "Whatever you are to me. While holding a receipt. I have never wanted to disappear so badly in my life."

"I thought it was sweet, honestly." Gon propped his head against his hand, full-on grinning now. "Very supportive older brother energy."

"It was not sweet. It was traumatic." Killua's tone stayed dry, even though he was fighting a laugh now too. "Hisoka wasn't even that helpful. He kept looking at us like we were the interesting ones. Not the merchandise."

"He does have a way of looking at people." Gon shivered slightly, only half joking.

"You get used to it." Killua shrugged, though his shoulders had eased, some of the mock-horror melting into genuine amusement now. "Illumi, though. That's a wound that's never gonna heal. I still can't walk past that shop without wanting to cross the street."

"We should go back sometime." Gon's grin turned mischievous. "See if he's finally learned how to smile."

"Absolutely not." Killua pointed a finger at him, though he was laughing now, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice. "I nearly had an out-of-body experience the first time. I'm not doing that again."

"You say that now." Gon flicked his ear playfully, grinning. "We never even used half of what we bought, you know."

Killua paused, giving him a flat, unimpressed look. "That's not the flex you think it is."

"I'm just saying." Gon shrugged, unfazed, propping his chin against his hand. "Feels like a waste not to use. Illumi measured everything so precisely."

"Do not bring my brother's tape measure into this conversation again." Killua smacked him lightly with a pillow, though he was fighting a laugh. "I mean it."

"Fine, fine." Gon held his hands up in surrender, grinning. "Forget I said anything."

"I mean it." Killua flopped back against the pillow, groaning theatrically, though he was smiling the whole time he did it. "You're the worst."

"I'm the best actually." Gon settled back down against his chest, laughing quietly, warm and unbothered.

"You sure are." Killua said dryly.

The room settled again, easier now, lighter than before, the earlier heaviness of the conversation folded gently beneath something warmer, more familiar. Killua's fingers moved idly through Gon's hair, unhurried, comfortable in the kind of silence that didn't need filling anymore.

"I wouldn't say I miss the old us." Killua said eventually, quieter now, more sincere. "I feel closer with you now, more than ever now. But I did enjoy every moment being with you. Ever since I met you, Gon."

Gon went still for a moment, something soft and struck flickering behind his expression before he tilted his head up to look at him properly. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Killua's voice stayed steady, though something vulnerable had crept into it, unguarded in a way he rarely allowed. "Don't make it more complicated."

"I wouldn't dream of it." Gon's smile was warm, entirely at peace, settling back down against his chest, closer now, comfortable in the quiet that followed.

He tightened his arm slightly, pulling Killua in closer, tucking his face against his shoulder. "Goodnight, Killua." he murmured, voice soft, already heavy with the kind of contentment that came easy after a night like this one. "I love you."

Killua went still for half a breath—not from surprise, exactly, more like he was letting the words settle somewhere before answering. "I love you too."

Gon smiled against his shoulder, and let his eyes finally fall shut, Killua's fingers still moving idly through his hair until even that slowed, both of them drifting into the kind of sleep that came easy when nothing was left unsaid.

Morning came slow and grey at first, the lamp long since burned out, early light just beginning to creep pale through the gap in the curtains. Gon woke before Killua did, opening his eyes, blinking slowly trying to adjust to the light.

Killua was still fast asleep beside him, breathing slowly and even, one hand resting loosely against Gon's back where it had rested sometime in the night. Gon stayed still for a moment, just looking at him—the soft, unguarded ease in his face that never quite showed up when he was awake, white hair mussed against the pillow, nothing sharp or careful about him at all right now.

Carefully, Gon eased Killua's hand off his back, moving slowly, holding his breath slightly as he slid free from the sheets. Killua stirred faintly, brow twitching, but didn't wake, just shifted and settled again, curling toward the warmth Gon left behind.

Gon leaned down before he could stop himself, pressing a light kiss to his forehead, lingering there a moment longer than necessary. "Sleep in," he whispered, barely audible, more for himself than for Killua. "I'll see you later."

He padded quietly into the bathroom, careful not to let the door creak, brushing his teeth with the spare toothbrush that had somehow ended up permanently his without either of them ever really deciding that. He caught his own reflection in the mirror for a moment. Tired in the good way, something soft still lingering in his expression from the night before.

Back in the bedroom, he dug through Killua's closet as quietly as he could manage, pulling out a plain white shirt from the back, tugging it on over his head. It smelled faintly like Killua's detergent. He pulled on the same jeans he'd worn the day before, folded over the back of the desk chair, and glanced back at the bed one last time before slipping out of the room.

The house was quiet around him as he made his way downstairs, morning light just barely beginning to touch the windows. He grabbed his keys from the small table by the door, careful with the lock as he let himself out, the porch light still on above him, useless now against the brightening sky.

The walk to the shop was quiet, the town still mostly asleep around him, streetlights flickering out one by one as the sun climbed higher. He took his time with it, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, in no real hurry.

The air still held onto the last of the night's cool, that particular stillness that only ever existed right before a town properly woke up. before anyone had anywhere to be yet. Gon liked this part of the morning best, if he was honest. Everything felt paused, suspended, like the whole world was holding its breath along with him.

He passed the flower stand first, shutters still down, the handwritten sign propped against the window reading BACK AT 8 in Mari's looping scrawl. A cat he didn't recognize slipped out from beneath the stand as he passed, pausing just long enough to eye him with lazy suspicion before disappearing between two buildings.

Further down, the bakery's lights had just flickered on, warm orange spilling faintly through the fogged front windows, the earliest hint of bread already threading into the cool morning air.

He crossed the empty square next, footsteps echoing slightly against the cobblestone, past the dry fountain that hadn't run properly in years, past the bench where the old men gathered most afternoons to argue about nothing in particular. All of it sat empty now, waiting, holding the same stillness the whole town seemed to hold at this hour, entirely unaware of anything moving beneath its surface.

He thought, briefly, about turning back. About climbing back into that bed, curling up against the warmth he'd left behind, letting the shop open late for once. He almost never did that. He liked his routine too much, liked the rhythm of it, and the reliability. But some mornings, walking alone through the quiet like this, he let himself imagine a version of his life where the shop didn't matter as much, where nothing waited for him to open it.

The thought passed the way it always did, gentle and brief, gone before it could really take root. A dog barked somewhere behind a fence as he passed, low and unbothered, more greeting than warning. Gon looked toward it out of habit, caught a glimpse of a golden retriever pacing along a chain-link fence, tail wagging despite the early hour, and offered it a small wave that it obviously couldn't appreciate.

The street curved gently as it always did, leading him past the last of the residential houses and back toward the market block, shopfronts still dark save for the bakery's early glow. He could see the shop from here now, gold lettering just barely catching the first proper light of morning—FREECSS MEATS MARKET, waiting for him the way it always was.

He slowed his pace slightly as he approached, savoring the last few minutes of silence before the day properly started, before customers and chatter and the small, constant performance of being exactly who everyone expected him to be. Not that it was really a performance, not entirely. He liked this part of himself too, liked being liked, liked being useful, liked the particular kind of good he got to do here even if it wasn't the only kind of thing he did.

He reached the door finally, keys already in hand, the morning sky behind him turning fully gold now, chasing away the last of the grey.

He unlocked the door, the bell above it giving a soft jingle as he stepped inside, flipping the sign from CLOSED to OPEN before he'd even turned on the lights.

Before doing anything else, he pulled yesterday's trays from the display case a few steaks nobody had taken, edges gone slightly dry overnight despite the cold. He carried them back to the kitchen, scraping the last of them into the bin with the same practiced efficiency he brought to everything else. No sentimentality in it. Just upkeep. What didn't sell, didn't stay.

He wiped down the case after, then crossed to the chalkboard menu by the register, studying yesterday's specials for a moment before dragging the eraser across all of it in a few clean strokes, the words dissolving into a soft white smear. He picked up the chalk, tapping it once against his palm, considering.

USDA CHOICE TOMAHAWK RIBEYE

GARLIC HERB PORK CHOPS

THE BUTCHER'S SAMPLER

He wrote it out in the same bold, careful lettering as always, stepping back once to check the lines were even before setting the chalk down.

He glanced toward the front windows where the gold lettering was just beginning to catch the earliest hint of sunrise.

Home, in its own way.

Gon stood at the workbench, whetstone in hand, the blade gliding over it in the same slow, unhurried rhythm as every morning before it. The sound echoed soft through the empty shop, steel catching the light overhead in brief silver flashes as he turned it, checked the edge, turned it again.

Usually Gon didn't get good sleep that often. He never really needed to, not after a night like that. But he'd left Killua curled up warm in the sheets, sleeping properly for the first time in weeks, he felt more awakened whenever he stayed by his side.

His mind wandered while his hands kept working, the way it always did in these silent hours. This town looked so ordinary in the daylight. Flower stands and bakeries and gossiping neighbors, nothing that would ever make anyone look twice. But Gon knew better. He'd known for a while now that something else moved through these streets once the sun went down, something old, something that didn't officially exist as far as anyone else in town was concerned. Most people got to live their whole lives here without ever knowing that. He almost envied them, sometimes.

Funny, how it all started right here. This exact counter. Killua had wandered in looking like he'd rather be anywhere else, asking for a cut of pork like it physically pained him to make conversation about it. Gon still couldn't say what made him so determined to get the guy to smile that first afternoon. He'd failed. Killua left with his meat and nothing else. But he'd come back that same night. That was the part Gon still turned over sometimes, silent moments like this one. To the one bar in town, of all places, like the universe had decided they weren't finished yet.

He remembered the exact stool Killua had picked, two down from his own, close enough to be that it felt deliberate. Remembered him telling Gon, unprompted, about some old grudge with his family. Nothing about a scar back then, nothing about any of what came later. Just a guy complaining about people who didn't understand him, dry and a little bitter about it, in a way Gon had found charming despite himself.

He remembered Killua glancing at him near the end of the night, asking if Gon wanted to get out of there.

Gon still didn't fully believe in things like fate. But some nights, he came close.

Gon thought about the scar under his palm the night before, the shape of it, the story Killua told him in full detail awhile ago. What exactly had happened out there, what kind of thing had gotten close enough to change him permanently, stitched in tighter than skin.

It didn't scare him. Nothing about Killua ever really had. He didn't wish it away, wishing never changed anything, and he'd never been the type to waste time on things he couldn't undo. He just took it for what it was, folded it into the rest of him the same way he'd folded in everything else Killua carried. If this was what came with loving him, then this was what came with loving him. Simple as that.

He set the knife down, satisfied, wiping his hands on a cloth.

"You're still here," he said, a warm, almost fond tone creeping into his voice. "That's shocking."

The shop stayed hushed around him, sunlight climbing slowly higher through the windows, the hardwood floor warming gold beneath it.

"Hm." He tilted his head slightly, studying the empty space like it might answer him. "After everything you just saw. Heard." A small laugh escaped him.

The floorboard near the entrance creaked, the way it always did, right on cue.

Gon's smile widened before the bell had even finished ringing. An older man stepped through the door, tall, a little disheveled, glancing around the shop like he wasn't entirely sure he was in the right place, briefcase tucked under one arm.

"This the butcher shop?" the man asked, squinting at the chalkboard menu like it might clarify things for him.

"Depends who's asking." Gon straightened, already reaching for his apron, something bright and easy settling back into his expression.

"Leorio." The man stuck a hand out, already making his way toward the counter without waiting for an invitation. "New in town. Well new-ish. Figured I'd finally come here for the ‘famous’ meat."

"Gon." He shook the offered hand, grinning now, something genuinely pleased in it. "Welcome to the neighborhood."

"Yeah, yeah." Leorio waved a hand, already eyeing the display case like he wasn't quite sure what half of it was. "You got something simple? I'm not exactly what you'd call a chef."

"I've got exactly the thing." Gon was already moving, reaching for a cut.

"So what's the deal with this place, anyway?" Leorio leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "Ashgrove. Never even heard of it before Kurapika brought it up."

"Not much reason to have heard of it." Gon glanced up, tying off the parcel with well-worn ease. "Quiet town. Southern countryside, edge of Padokea. Most people who live here grew up here, or married into it."

"Kurapika's the one who grew up here, actually." Leorio's expression softened slightly at the name, despite his gruff delivery. "Left when he was a kid. Hadn't been back since..not until I dragged him into moving here with me."

"You dragged him?" Gon raised an eyebrow, amused.

"He didn't need much dragging." Leorio huffed a short laugh. "Kept saying he wanted to see it again. Guess it's been eating at him for years, actually some unfinished business type thing. Wouldn't tell me exactly what."

Gon's hands stilled slightly over the counter before he caught himself, resuming the motion smooth and unhurried, though something had gone carefully blank behind his easy expression. "Huh," he said, keeping his voice light. "Well. It's a good town. Everyone's friendly. Gets a little sleepy fast, but I like that about it."

"Yeah, that's the vibe I'm getting." Leorio nodded, glancing around the shop again. "Feels safe, at least. Good for starting over, I guess."

Something rose in Gon's throat before he could stop it—there's monsters in this town, you should leave, you should take him somewhere else—the words sitting there for one full second before he swallowed them down.

"It's amazing here," he said instead, reaching for the next cut without missing a beat. "Everyone gets along. You'll like it. It took me a while to feel settled too, but it grows on you fast."

"That's good to hear." Leorio relaxed slightly, apparently satisfied. "Kurapika seemed nervous about it. Kept saying the place felt different than he remembered. Smaller, maybe. Or maybe he's just imagining things. It's been what, fifteen years?"

"Could be." Gon's smile didn't waver, though something behind his eyes had gone quietly, carefully still. "Towns change. People remember things differently after a long time away."

"That's what I told him." Leorio shrugged, oblivious, digging through his pocket for cash. He paused before pulling it out, glancing at Gon with something more thoughtful now, less transactional. "You know, I don't really know anybody else here yet. Kurapika's got his own stuff going on, old friends, old memories, whatever this town means to him. I could use, I don't know. An actual friend. Not just a guy who sells me meat."

"I can be both." Gon grinned, easy, though something genuine warmed behind it too.

"Yeah, yeah." Leorio snickered, waving a hand. "I'm serious, though. We should keep in touch. Get a drink sometime, if this town's even got a decent bar."

"It does. I'll take you." Gon nodded, already reaching for a scrap of paper to write his number down. "And you should meet Killua sometime, too. He's—" He paused for half a second, something flickering behind his expression before he continued easily. "He's someone you can talk to. Good listener, when he wants to be."

"Killua." Leorio repeated the name, glancing at him with mild curiosity. "That your boyfriend?"

Gon went still for half a beat, the pen paused against the paper. "No," he said, the word coming out quicker than he meant it to, something unreadable passing behind his eyes for just a moment before it smoothed back over, easy and warm again. "Not—no. He's just important to me. You'll get it once you meet him."

"Ah." Leorio nodded slowly, though something in his expression shifted, faintly awkward now. "So, what, you're straight then? My bad, I just assumed—"

"No, no." Gon chuckled, shaking his head quickly, waving the pen slightly like he could wave the misunderstanding away with it. "I go both ways. Killua's just.. it's complicated. We're not exactly labeled."

"Oh." Leorio blinked, visibly recalibrating. "Okay. Cool. That's—yeah, that's cool." He cleared his throat, clearly relieved to have somewhere to put his hands, reaching for the parcel like it might rescue him from the conversation. "Anyway. Wasn't trying to pry."

"You weren't prying." Gon grinned, clearly enjoying his fluster a little too much. "Fair enough, though. I'd probably ask the same thing."

"I'll hold you to the drink thing, though. Tonight perhaps." Leorio said it fast, already moving toward the door, still slightly flustered.

"Sounds like a great plan." Gon slid the wrapped parcel across the counter, smiling, watching him go with open amusement.

Leorio said his goodbyes, the bell jingling behind him as he stepped back out into the brightening morning. Gon watched him go for a long moment before letting his smile finally, quietly fade, just for a second, just long enough to glance again toward the far end of the street, toward the cemetery gates barely visible past the last row of houses.

Fifteen years. Long enough for a childhood memory to blur soft at the edges.

Gon exhaled slowly, straightening the chalkboard menu though it didn't need straightening, and glanced toward the empty stool one last time.

"You stayed," he said quietly, almost to himself. "Most people don't."

The knife caught the morning light as he lifted it.

"I suppose I'll be seeing you again."