ou knocked?" Killua droned.

Gon kicked into gear, rules still in hand. Killua pointed to them and asked, "What're you doing with those—" only to be cut off by Gon shrieking in a barely restrained whisper, "No time to explain! I had to buy a mattress and Zushi, Knuckle, and Uvogin are helping bring it—"

The both stilled at the distant sound of Knuckle cursing in the stairwell. "Almost there... I think this is Gon's flat," Zushi's voice sounded, just outside of the foyer. "Almost! You're not the one carrying it!" Uvogin shouted.

Gon spun back around, pinned like a frog on a biology countertop from the way Killua was glaring at him.

"You fucking idiot," Killua seethed, and Gon yelped at the sound of the front door opening. Killua cursed again, under his breath, and scrambled back to his bedroom. Gon skidded after him, assisting in shutting the door before Knuckle and Uvogin ever made it over the threshold.

Gon flattened his back to the Killua's closed door, only to shriek at the sight of the apartment rules in his hand. He stuffed them up the front of his shirt without thinking twice.

"Gon?" Zushi called into the apartment, footsteps coming to the foyer door.

Gon yelped. "Over here!"

"Oh, thank God—I thought we just burst into a stranger's flat," Zushi laughed, striding into the living space with an impressed whistle. "Wow... nice place, dude."

"Thanks—"

"It's not messy at all! I was expecting, like, a pigsty or something."

"That's because I just threw the pigsty out the window," Gon said as he reached for his bedroom door. "This is my room."

He flattened a hand over his stomach where the paper crinkled. The sound was drowned out by Knuckle and Uvogin cursing in the foyer, so Gon and Zushi rushed in to help. The four of them struggled across the apartment to Gon's room where they kicked aside Gon's sleeping bag in favor of dropping the mattress onto the hardwood floor.

The instant it was down, Knuckle and Uvogin collapsed onto the mattress.

Zushi put his hands on his hips. "What're you two lazing about for? Don't y'all work out or something?"

"Or something," Knuckle huffed, rubbing a hand over his forehead. He passed his fingers through his black curls and glanced over at Uvogin, who let out a gruff groan as he sat up, straightened, and stretched his shoulders out.

"Nice place you've got here, Freecss," Uvogin said.

"Uh, thanks."

"So, you rich or something?" he asked.

Gon winced—Zushi's punch to Uvogin's upper thigh looked like it hurt like a sonuvabitch. "Uh... not exactly. My aunt—she's helping me out. And I got a pretty good deal on this place."

"How good?" Zushi asked, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the wall opposite the windows. "And by that I mean could I move into the bedroom over there."

Gon's heart stopped.

"Th-That isn't a bedroom," Gon said, weakly. "Just a... closet. Large closet."

"Who said I couldn't live in a large closet? This body is compact, bro," Zushi said, hands stationed squarely on his narrow hips.

Knuckle yawned, flopping his phone out of his pocket. He raised it up, only to hesitate, eyes stilling on the screen. Uvogin took notice and turned, only to have his head bashed in when Knuckle shot up and knocked his head straight into Uvogin's.

"Ow, fuck!" Knuckle groaned.

"Shit, dude!"

"What happened?" Gon said, alarmed.

"It's—Retz—" Knuckle grunted, a hand on his head.

"Retz? No way!" Zushi shrieked, clapping his hands.

Gon didn't recognize the name and his brain superimposed Ritz Crackers over it. "Dare I ask: who's... Retz?"

Uvogin cursed under his breath as he pushed off of the mattress, shaking his head. Knuckle threw his arms out, exasperated, and said, "Only USFC's best journalist! She scores every ounce of tea on campus—and she's scored shit on Zoldyck before."

Fuck, Gon thought, wincing. He glanced at the door where Uvogin was heading out into the main living space. Gon raced after him, paranoid that Killua's last name being spoken allowed would summon his roommate.

"What do you mean... 'stuff on Zoldyck'," Gon asked, raising his voice a touch, intentionally looking away from the "closet" door. He stood on the steps in front of it, though, so he could guard it from Zushi and Knuckle's prying eyes as they left the bedroom.

"Here, I'll show you," Knuckle said, and Gon rose an eyebrow at Zushi, who shrugged.

"We're all on her mailing list," Zushi said.

"Why?"

"For the sweet, sweet tidbits of juicy, juicy gossip she gives us, duh," he explained. "Last time Killua came up in her newsletter, it was because someone found out he was moving out of the dorms. Who just moves out of the dorms for second semester?! Especially when you're that good-looking?"

Gon shook his head, confused. "What does being good-looking have to do with it?"

"Nothing. He just wanted to remind everyone that Killua's perfect," Knuckle said with a sigh. He held out a photo to Gon, and Uvogin came around, clasped an arm around Gon's shoulders, and leant in to the screen. Zushi weaseled in, his head perched on Gon's shoulder.

It was a picture of what appeared to be the back of Killua's head, pulling a cigarette out of a woman's mouth. The woman looked like she could have been a model, or at the very least, a celebrity. No one wore sunglasses that size, or black sunhats around San Francisco.

"Girlfriend?" Uvogin asked.

Knuckle gave him a dull stare. "Since when were you interested in Killua."

"I'm not! I'm just asking—keeping the conversation going!" Uvogin said. When Knuckle rolled his eyes away, Uvogin shoved him roughly in the arm, but not before Gon swept the phone out of Knuckle's hands.

He squinted at the photo. It was already so zoomed in that Gon could see the smoke on the woman's lips.

Killua's probably listening, Gon thought, pinching his fingers to his bottom lip. If someone was taking pictures of Killua without his say-so, then the guy deserved to know it and know when it happened.

"Where was this taken?" Gon asked. "I don't recognize this view."

"It's the top floor of the parking structure," Zushi said. "What did the article say?"

"He got into that black car in the foreground. Retz, that whore, she blurred out the license plate," Knuckle muttered. He crossed his arms and seethed, "What I wouldn't give to run that plate through a police database..."

"Wow, okay then," Gon said.

"Knuckle! There you go again, with that morbid sense of humor!" Zushi cried.

"Does... this chick really go around scraping gossip together and putting it in a newsletter?" Gon asked, and when Uvogin shrugged, Knuckle winced, and Zushi nodded, his answer was clear. "Oh. That's kinda—I mean, no offense—scummy."

"Oh, it is, but I love it," Zushi sighed dreamily. "She's got a whole squad of photographers on her team! They have eyes and ears everywhere."

"Ominous. Sounds kind of like high school," Gon said in a borderline grumble. High school... wasn't the greatest, and the gossip just made it worse. He hadn't considered he'd take it to college, but gossip went around his old community college.

He wasn't sure why he thought USFC would be any different.

"Oh, it's not that bad," Zushi said with a wave of his hand.

"And look at the photo quality! Look at his ass!" Knuckle said, pointing to the picture in Gon's lowered hand.

"No! I'm not gonna look at it!" Gon lied, because he had already stared at it for approximately five seconds while Zushi and Knuckle chattered on about Retz. He slapped the phone back in Knuckle's hand before he could be accused.

"For shame! I thought you were gay!"

"I-I am!" Gon cried, voice cracking. He cleared his throat and rasped, "But—! That's inappropriate!"

"Inappropriate," Knuckle teased, crossing his arms. He stuck his tongue out at Gon and said, "I'll show you inappropriate."

"Don't make it sound like a threat! You're gonna scare him away!" Zushi exclaimed, shoving Knuckle towards the exit. He laughed nervously at the horrified look on Gon's face. "I'm sure he won't show you 'inappropriate', whatever that means."

"I'll come up with something," Knuckle promised, shaking a finger in the air.

Uvogin clasped onto Gon's shoulders and gave him a firm shake. "Nice place, dude. Thanks for letting us infiltrate."

"N-No problem," Gon squeaked. Zushi was herding Knuckle out of the front door, so Gon followed after Uvogin and asked, "You don't think Knuckle meant anything by that, do you? I'm just not really about the whole crazy, flamboyant scene."

"Well, unfortunately for you," Uvogin said, clasping a hand to Gon shoulder. Gon swallowed hard. "Knuckle definitely is part of that scene. I'll see you later, Freecss."

He took off with a light wave before disappearing around the open front door. Zushi peered in and waved to Gon, saying, "See ya tomorrow!" before shutting the door. Gon could hardly raise his hand to wave.

Exhaustion seeped through him and, both hands clasped to the strap of his guitar case, slumped his head forward against the hallway's archway. He groaned, the dread seeping in as soon as he heard Killua's bedroom doorknob turn.

He heard Killua's footsteps behind him, approaching menacingly from the bedroom door.

"For some reason," Killua started, and Gon flinched, "I expected you to crack. I'm surprised you kept it together."

"You and me both," Gon groaned. He pushed off of the wall and went to lock the front door. Once the bolt was secure, Gon lifted the guitar case from his shoulders and carried it into the living room. "I thought you worked tonight."

"I do. Not until nine, though," Killua said. Gon put a hand to his face to hide his embarrassment.

"I know exactly what you're thinking..." Gon sighed.

"Oh, do you? Do you really?"

"Yes. You're thinking about the apartment rules and how I just broke one of 'em."

"Technically two, since you're still wearing shoes."

Gon looked down at his feet. Sure enough, he was still in his converse and his shirt still crinkled with the rule paper. He pulled it out from under his shirt and Killua rolled his eyes, walking away.

"It was evidence! That I have a roommate!" Gon insisted, but it was no use. Killua certainly thought he was insane now.

Killua wasn't particularly upset about Freecss dragging three of his college buddies through their apartment. It helped that they didn't have enough furniture for it to seem like two people lived there, and their shoe sizes were similar... they did have two tooth brushes, though, and Killua would have to remember that, for next time.

He rubbed a hand through his hair as Gon went to the kitchen to pin the rules back up. Killua inhaled the smell of someone's cologne from that whole charade that just swept through the apartment. Bine seemed like the type of guy to wash his clothes in cologne like that. And Freecss...

Who was he kidding.

The kid was wearing basketball shorts like that was called 'fashion'. As if Freecss would bother with cologne. He wasn't sure why, but it made his skin crawl.

But then he remembered standing on the other side of his closed bedroom door, listening to Freecss and his friends talk about him. Freecss said he was gay—well, at least I have pronouns for the guy now, Killua thought. He felt immensely awkward having to ask after they were coming on four days of living with each other. It was too late for that chat, and he wasn't about to act like he was interested to know more about Gon Freecss.

But what did interest him went along the lines of: why the hell did Freecss think basketball shorts were okay in San Francisco?

"Dude, do you always wear those?" Killua said, a hand on his hips. He leant against one of the kitchen chairs and watched Freecss turn away from the posted rules.

Freecss glanced down at himself. "I, um, I don't know? It's comfortable."

Killua rolled his eyes. "It's boring. That's how shitty high school boys dress."

"I-I'm not shitty!" Freecss squeaked, voice cracking. "A-And I don't always wear these shirts. I wear sweatshirts a lot."

"Uh, yeah, and no wonder you wear baggy pants otherwise those sweatshirts would make regular shorts look nonexistent," Killua said.

Gon clamped his mouth shut. His ears felt like they were on fire. "S-Since when did you keep track of my wardrobe? You've barely seen a quarter of it!"

"Because I've seen a whole damn half of it! You had one goddamn box of clothes, dude, and most of the volume of it was taken up by your winter jacket!" Killua said with a laugh that shriveled up Gon's confidence and sent his eyes to the ground.

Killua watched it—the exact moment Freecss curled in on himself—and sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose and thought to himself, Why did I bother? It's not like I actually give a shit. That didn't change the fact that he could, quite literally, spend an entire day at Westfield. Not only that, but he had done so with Kurapika on more than one occasion.

And now that he couldn't spend money, he could at least get his shopping fix sorted and taken care of through Freecss. It was the least Freecss could do to make up for ruining his life, right?

Right?

"It's just that—" Freecss started, clearing his throat. He plucked at the front of his shirt and said, "—I don't like wearing tight clothes. And tshirts cover up my sports bra straps, so..."

"You can cover 'em up and still look halfway decent, you know," Killua said. Freecss rose an eyebrow at him, and Killua looked away with a tsk. "And tucking your shirts in the right way lifts the shirt off your chest."

"I don't know," Gon sighed, picking at his nails. He looked down at the frayed hangnail on his thumb and sighed. "I've got some homework to do. Have fun at work," he said, and with that, he shuffled over to his room where Killua could see the edge of the brand new mattress on the floor. And then, Gon shut the door.

Killua folded his arms over his chest. It irritated him that people could just sit and let their image fester in shitty clothing. Not that... he cared about Freecss image. Well, Chrollo knows I'm living with the idiot, Killua reasoned. The least Chrollo could do was acknowledge the fact that my roommate isn't a total bum.

Killua shook his head. In what world would Chrollo be seeing Freecss again? He rubbed his hands uncomfortably over his cheeks.

He clenched his fist beneath his chin and studied the refrigerator for a long, dreadful moment. They needed food, for one, now that their Dominos order had effectively run out.

Killua went to Freecss' door and knocked on it. He pushed a hand to the doorframe and waited until it opened, and Freecss peered out at him, eyes wide.

Killua looked up from the floor and said, "Tell ya what: Tomorrow? We're going grocery shopping. And then I'm taking you shopping for new clothes."

Freecss' nose wrinkled. "Sounds girly."

Killua rose an eyebrow at him. "You callin' me girly, Freecss?"

"N-No! I'm not—"

"Does it look like I'm wearing a fucking dress?" Killua said, gesturing to his own clothes.

He snickered when Freecss put his eyes to the ceiling, cheeks pink. "No. I just don't like shopping—"

"Yeah, well, I do. And you know how many male fashion designers are out there?"

Gon scuffed his foot on the wood floorboards, muttering, "Yeah, but that's the patriarchy for ya..."

"Listen: If you're going to USFC—a liberal arts college—you gotta at least look like it," Killua said. Gon rose an eyebrow up at him. "You're gonna need business casual clothes anyway for internships. You can look dapper without being feminine."

"But... you look kinda feminine," Gon said, rubbing a finger behind his ear. He looked hesitantly up at Killua's annoyed expression. "It's not a bad thing. I just don't wanna look like that."

Killua pushed off of the doorframe because he could already tell that Freecss was beating himself up over that last comment. When he turned away, Gon put his hands to his face and groaned.

"I didn't—That wasn't an insult..."

"'Course it wasn't," Killua scoffed, rolling his eyes. He went to his bedroom and leant against the door handle. He glanced over at where Gon had yet to look beyond his mortified hands over his face. "If ya wanna make it up to me, trust my fashion sense, 'cause you fucking need it."

Gon groaned and slapped his hands down. "Fine. Okay? We can go shopping or whatever."

"Tomorrow after grocery shopping."

"Before. Since the food's gonna be in the car," Gon grumbled. He crossed his arms, indignant and annoyed with having caved.

Agreeing was the first of many mistakes on Gon's part, and suggesting the clothing spree was the first of many more mistakes to come from Killua. However, upon the morrow, they could both find themselves in Gon's car after a rather tiresome journey off of campus where Killua could enter Gon's vehicle without being seen by their classmates.

Killua was still paranoid, however, as they arrived at Westfield Center. He tugged on a beanie, his mind on the amateur paparazzi Gon's friends had mentioned at the apartment. He topped it off with a pair of sunglasses and a thick white scarf to cover the black fabric of his turtleneck.

He was checking himself out in the mirror on the windsheild shade when Gon said, "Is that really necessary?"

"Got a problem, Freecss?"

"I asked you first."

"And I'm in charge, bitch," Killua said, and when Gon said nothing, he looked over and found Gon scowling at the wheel. "Fine. 'Bastard'."

"That still isn't nice," Gon pouted, arms crossed. "I didn't even want to come and now you're making this experience even less pleasant."

"Quit being a sour-puss," Killua huffed, and he looked away the instant he caught sight of Gon turning to glare at him. He rubbed a hand over his forehead and said, "Fuck, sorry. Quit being a bitch-ass—wait—fuck."

By some miracle, Gon burst out laughing, and Killua startled at the sound of it. He looked at Gon, who's giggling turned into deep smile lines and dimples that he tried to hide behind his hand.

"I'll quit being a bitch-ass when you quit being a dickwad," Gon teased, grinning as he pushed out of the driver's door and slammed the door behind him.

Killua snickered and followed Gon's lead.

Killua stuffed his hands into his pockets as they approached the archway outside of Westfield. He glanced at Gon, who was too busy nibbling on his bottom lip to realize that Killua was waiting for him to take the first step. Killua gestured with his elbow, nudging Gon ahead.

Gon staggered forward, startled, and glanced back at Killua. Killua looked away, whistling absently, innocent as ever.