illua, Leorio, and Chrollo left the theater in a march not unlike school children being escorted to the principle's office—albeit reluctantly on Chrollo's part, as the rat bastard sat stationary until Kurapika physically wrenched him out of the seat and shoved him ahead of the group.

Kurapika's rough man-handling of Chrollo only had Killua dreading the moment when the silence would break, and it didn't break until they were in the lobby for all the world to hear.

Well, perhaps just the theater workers refilling the popcorn machine.

"Kurapika—" Leorio started, dejected, and Kurapika shot up a hand to silence him.

They all remained quiet. Kurapika went on staring out at the front doors of the lobby. The clock was ticking. They had approximately seven minutes—the precise amount of time a scene in a movie was supposed to extend, and the exact amount of time before Gon would grow worried that his date up and left him in the theater.

Killua didn't like the idea of that, but it was a far better outcome to Gon finding out he was a stripper.

" None of you," Kurapika started, and his voice was so loud in comparison to the lobby's silence that Leorio flinched. Killua was used to being yelled at, and Chrollo just seemed unfazed by everything.

Chrollo put his hands in the pockets of his jacket and said, dully, "None of us what , exactly?"

Leorio looked as though Chrollo had just facilitated a stroke. He put a hand frantically to his forehead and hissed, "Dude, don't piss him off—"

"Leorio's right," Kurapika said, completely calm.

Leorio peeked between his fingers. "Really?"

"Yes, because I'm ALREADY PISSED OFF! " Kurapika screamed. Killua rubbed his ear and Leorio nearly fainted. Chrollo blinked.

Kurapika threw his hands up to his hat and paced away, towards the startled employees, and back again. He gestured frantically at Killua, who pointed a finger to himself as Kurapika said, "Seriously, why the fuck are you here? Aren't you supposed to be at the club?"

"I got someone to cover for me," Killua said. "Why the fuck are you on a date with a freshmen, anyway?"

"I'd be a freshmen, too, if I went to college! Which I didn't , because I like to make cash ," Kurapika seethed, slapping his hand to his palm like he was about to beat Killua's ass. "So that I can pay for my dates like a sugar daddy ! That's the energy I want, and y'all are fucking it right up the asshole!"

"I thought the energy you wanted was to have a sugar daddy," Leorio said, cowering.

Kurapika cracked the back of his hand against his palm and Leorio yelped, "Oh God!" when Kurapika pointed directly at him and cried, "Ding ding ding! We have a goddamn winner! My fucking God, you're a genius!"

Leorio put a hand to his chest to calm himself before saying, "There's no need to yell."

Kurapika eyed them all furiously. "All of you need to leave . I don't give a shit if you wasted twenty bucks on a ticket for this— don't mess this up for me."

With that, he turned on his heels and stormed back to the theater down the hall. Killua watched him go, fully mortified. He put a hand to his head and regretted sitting with Chrollo and Leorio. Maybe this plan would have worked if he really did go solo on this mission.

No , he thought, overwhelmed by the frantic, desperate energy to stop Kurapika from going back in there.

Killua stomped his foot in frustration before taking off jogging after Kurapika. Kurapika slowed his steps the second he heard his pursuer approaching, and when he turned, he did so with a fist raised specifically to punch someone tall in the arm. Instead, he came back short with Killua standing there looking emo as fuck in his black wig.

Kurapika lowered his fist with a huff. "What is it."

"It's just—" Killua started, biting his lip. He glanced back at Leorio and Chrollo, who, for better or for worse, were still standing there, now waiting for Killua to say his piece. He turned back, Chrollo's excuse on the tip of his tongue. "That... guy you're seeing. He's in my class."

Kurapika was bored out of his mind. He rolled his eyes and said, "Yeah, and? I'm not gonna talk about Phantom on the first date, you know."

"I know. I just—if you do tell him, he might... you know. I don't want to worry about that... happening."

"What I hear—" Kurapika said, crossing his arms and readjusting his stance. Killua swallowed hard. Shit , he thought, he's getting ready to argue . "–Is a lot of you problems. Did it ever cross your mind that I'm not stupid ? Of fucking course I do my research—I know he's at the same university as you."

"But if you tell him—"

"Is it really so bad that we're strippers?" Kurapika hissed under his breath, glaring Killua down.

The fire at the pit of Killua's stomach churned with a roar. "It is because of the profession I'll be in after university. I don't need condescension on top of an already socially demanding job," Killua said.

"You do realize how condescending it is to hear a dancer talk about nothing but their PhD, graduate bullshit, right?" Kurapika said, and it pierced Killua directly in the chest with all of the guilt and shame he intended to inflict. "We get it—you're educated, in debt, and won't be here in four years like the rest of us will be—just shut up about it already."

With that, Kurapika dipped back into the theater and left Killua behind.

Killua's shoulders slumped, more frustrated with himself than anything. He tended to forget that, in reality, The Phantom was just a job. It was foolish of him to assume that Kurapika was his friend at all, or that Killua had any say in what Kurapika did in his freetime.

Killua pushed his hand back over his forehead, slipping the wig off and pealing the cap off with it. He stepped back to the lobby where Leorio met him halfway, concern etched on his brow.

"I'm sure he didn't mean that," Leorio said.

"No, I get it," Killua sighed, clutching the wig between his hands. "I... just tend to put too much faith the wrong people. I'll see you guys later, I guess."

Killua headed for the door as Leorio called after him, saying, "Killua, come on. You know how Kurapika is sometimes—Christ, this is a mess." He put his hands to his face and groaned. He pulled his hands down over his beard, giving him a perfect vantage point to Chrollo, who rose an eyebrow at him to punctuate just how unimpressed he was.

Leorio slapped his hands down and said, "Would it kill you to be a little sympathetic here."

"What is sympathy," Chrollo said, dramatically, as if on the stage of a Shakespearean drama. Leorio threw his arms in the air and groaned.

"He was perfect ," Gon moaned, dramatically, as if swooning over a chaise lounge. Instead of a lounge, however, he was in the stairwell, swooning over the steps. He swayed against the railing, hands sliding along the metal pole with a dreamy sigh. "He was totally out of my league... Why did he go out with me?"

Zushi had an elbow propped on his knee, his hand cupping his chin. He shrugged and said, "Alas, only Kurapika knows. So are you gonna see him again?"

"I don't know," Gon confessed, slumping down beside Zushi. "Like... it went too well. And he paid for my meal afterwards... and my ticket... He's got his whole life figured out, you know?"

"Just 'cause a guy has money doesn't mean he's got his life together. What if he's selling drugs?"

Gon thought on it. How much money could a person make selling drugs? He never considered it as a viable profession considering he, himself, was not a drug user.

Gon pouted, glowering at the opposite wall. Unless T counts... he thought.

Zushi slapped him on the arm. "Focus, dude. I can see your brain wandering a thousand miles away."

"Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking about drugs," Gon confessed, waving his hands dismissively.

Zushi's eyes widened and he whispered, "You do drugs?" as if the FBI was eavesdropping.

Gon rolled his eyes. "Not actually . I do weekly injections—for hormone therapy."

"Ah... I see..." Zushi hummed, and Gon rose an eyebrow at him. Zushi squinted at him and Gon startled a little. He bunched his shoulders up, hands clasped between his knees, as Zushi inspected him for a moment.

"Wh-What? Stop staring at me like that," Gon muttered, looking away. "It's not that weird—"

"That—! That's not what I meant! It's just interesting I guess. I've never had a friend... transition before," Zushi said, and Gon blushed a little. At least, it started that way, until the heat flooded all the way from his cheeks to his ears and down his neck.

Christ, I'm so weak , Gon thought, rubbing his hand through his hair. He calls me his friend one time and I turn to mush .

"I also guess it's kind of cool that I never knew you before , you know? I can't picture you as a girl, or whatever," Zushi said.

Gon perked up. "Really?"

"Yeah. Like, at first I was like, 'Yeah, that's definitely a dude, he dresses like shit,' but now you dress all posh and now I'm like, 'He's either bi or metrosexual—'"

"Z-Zushi! Oh my God," Gon cried, mortified. He slapped his hands over his face as Zushi went on, "Gays are flamboyant as fuck! Why do you think I wear scarves, dude! You never wear scarves! Even Knuckle wears scarves and turtle necks."

"Scarves are so feminine," Gon groaned.

Zushi teased Gon a moment longer before tipping his head onto Gon's shoulder and saying, "No one's forcing you to date this guy, you know. So what if he's handsome, rich, and sweet?"

"I know," Gon sighed. "I just feel guilty , I guess. What if Kurapika's, like, the best that Tinder has to offer, and I'm just giving up because of some stupid... differing life circumstances. Eventually I'll be graduating, you know? Then I'll be making bank, too."

"Yeah, says the music theory student ," Zushi laughed, and Gon rolled his eyes. "I say try it out once more. You don't know what Kurapika's perspective of you is. Maybe he wasn't as into you as you thought! It'll make for an easy excuse to stop seeing him."

Gon put his head back in his hands. "Dammit, Zushi, now I'm worried he doesn't like me."

Meanwhile, Killua could be found avoiding Kurapika's calls. They had plans to carpool to work that day, but Killua couldn't fathom sitting in the same stifling air as Kurapika. His pride had shriveled up and died in the theater lobby, and it frustrated him that at one point, he had the balls to assume that Kurapika would be on his side.

Killua sighed at the sensation of his frustration digging a crevice in his chest the size of the Grand Canyon, a crevice that always existed, but was filled over the year by the comradery at The Phantom . He forgot that they were all just... contract workers, some with shorter sentences than others. They put on amiable facades in an attempt to get better stage times, in hopes that if someone bailed, they'd give their slot to him .

Kurapika wasn't really his friend.

He didn't have any of those.

And so, he let Kurapika's second call go to voicemail where he would later hear Kurapika saying, " Quit being a pussy. I didn't hurt your feelings, ya dingus ," from where he was standing on the roof of the parking structure with a cigarette between his fingers.

Kurapika hung up and slapped his phone to his leg. He sighed and considered hanging around a bit longer, but it was clear that Killua had other plans to get to the club that evening.

Kurapika put the cigarette back to his lips and took a deep breath, just before coughing at the sight of Gon Freecss emerging from the stairwell door. Kurapika's lungs burned as he hastily stamped out his cigarette and half-hoped the hat would be enough to disguise him.

Gon recognized it, though, along with Kurapika's all-black ensemble.

"Kurapika!" Gon cried, startled. His car keys jingled as he jogged over to Kurapika's car, saying, "What're you doing here?"

"I just—"

Gon hesitated. Kurapika looked ethereal up on the parking lot roof, and strangely... familiar. His eyes caught on the last of the cigarette smoke trailing off of Kurapika's lips, and then, it clicked.

He pictured the back of Killua's head, and Killua's hand reaching up to pluck the cigarette out of Kurapika's fingers. He thought about Killua's date the night he went to the concert and wondered if that date was with Kurapika. He couldn't deny the faint, hesitant recognition on Killua's face when he had shown Kurapika's profile to the guy. He hadn't second-guessed it then, but he was certainly second-guessing it now.

Before Kurapika could make up some faint idea of an excuse, Gon tipped his head to the side and said, "Weird question, but do you know someone named Killua Zoldyck?"

Kurapika certainly didn't miss nor forget the look on Killua's face when he went back into the theater. Betrayal, was what it was. Kurapika had thought it was ridiculous and childish of Killua to have the nerve to look like that after having asked Kurapika to change his mind about Freecss.

Say you don't know him , Kurapika thought.

"What makes you think I know him?" he said, folding his arms over his chest.

Gon pulled his phone from his pocket, his backpack slung over one shoulder. He sifted through his messages with ease before coming to the link to Retz' article, featuring the photo of Killua and Kurapika together on the roof.

Kurapika couldn't help but glare at it. Who the hell was taking paparazzi shots of them? Now I see why the rat bastard's concerned , he thought. As much as he refused to give in to the guilt, he couldn't deny the small, teeny- tiny inkling of regret for bitching Killua out. If people were taking paparazzi shots of him, Killua had a right to be paranoid.

Kurapika just didn't know the extent of it until Gon shoved it in his face.

Shit , Kurapika thought, putting a hand to his hat as he sighed, now I have to apologize .

"That's you, isn't it?" Gon said.

"It's pixelated, is what it is," Kurapika said.

Gon put his phone down with a dramatic huff. "I just wanna know how you know Killua."

Play dumb .

"Who's Killua?"

Not that dumb!

"Kurapika..." Gon sighed. "I can tell that it's you in the photo. I'm not stupid."

Kurapika rolled his eyes. He leant a hip against the hood of his car, leaning into Gon with a soft smile. Gon swallowed hard, eyes wide and hands gripping his phone to his chest.

Some of the best lies were partial truths, so Kurapika decided to go with that route.

" Yes , I work with him," Kurapika sighed. He gestured to his car and said, "We sometimes carpool, or whatever."

"Oh! I've been meaning to ask him where he works. Where do you guys work?" Gon said, and Kurapika raised an eyebrow because, last he knew anything, Killua didn't exactly have "friends".

"It's private," Kurapika said, as if that wasn't suspicious. Gon tipped his head curiously as Kurapika leant in, and Gon would have been fine. He would have been able to handle this conversation normally had Kurapika not gotten into his personal space and holy heck , was it hot in here? Oh, wait, no, they were outside. It was cold outside. Then why was his face heating up so much?

Kurapika grinned at the sight of Gon's pink cheeks and said, "Listen... I gotta go."

"'Kay," Gon whispered, breathless, hopeless, and all of the above.

Kurapika grazed a hand over Gon's hip, and it had Gon melting even more. No one ever touched his hip. "So I was thinking we could hang out again some time?" he said, tipping is head to the side.

Gon nodded wordlessly. Kurapika smiled. "Yeah? Okay, cool. I'll text you."

"'Kay," Gon said, and Kurapika passed him, his hand trailing along Gon's pelvis before he reached for the driver's door. He propped it open with his hip and gave Gon one last dashing smile before ducking in and shutting the door. Gon took that moment to get his shit together and back to his car.

While Gon made his way back home, Killua could be found entering through the back door of the club and navigating his way to the locker room. Once there, he dressed for the floor as swiftly as possible so as to avoid overlapping with Kurapika's arrival. He escaped down the hall and through the tasseled curtain onto the floor just as the back door opened and Kurapika stepped through.

Killua sighed as he made it to the bar, out of breath. He swayed in his heels and offered a smile to a customer at the bar. It took a second for Killua's brain to catch up with him after he had left it abandoned on the street outside of the parking garage back on campus.

"Mr. Hill," Killua said, clearing his throat. He stepped over to the man at the bar, whose hands were busy twirling the neck of a martini glass. Killua tipped his head to the side, studying the drink, and said, "It's a Thursday. Work in the morning?"

"Precisely why I'm drinking now," Pariston said with a smile. He leant back in his seat, one arm crossed over his chest and the other holding the glass up. "I'll be gone before the rush. Promise."

"Ah, because all of your promises hold up, don't they," Killua said with a light, airy laugh of a blonde bimbo.

Leorio strolled over then, prompted by Killua raising his hand to catch his attention. Leorio put a hand to the bar and said, "What'll it be," to which Killua replied, "Malibu and coke, my good sir."

As Leorio poured it out, Pariston reached into his jacket and produced his wallet. "Well, here's one promise you can hold me to. Let me buy you that drink."

"Surprised you remembered."

Killua took a seat beside Pariston and pulled the drink closer. He only had so much of this bullshit to care for before the alcohol kicked in, so for now, he'd tolerate a chat with Pariston Hill while Leorio gave him a knowing side-eye from down the bar.

Killua gave Leorio a what-the-fuck gesture, and Leorio shrugged.

"Trouble in paradise with you two?" Pariston commented with that smug grin of his.

"Hardly," Killua scoffed and immediately made a mental note to dial up the charm. He should be acting like a bastard at work—he could save that for later. Killua passed his tongue over his bottom lip and put his chin up, smiling as he said, "I have no paradise—if that's what we're calling being in a relationship these days."

"Ah," Pariston laughed.

"Which reminds me: How long are you in town?"

"Just a while longer," Pariston said. "Five more days, to be precise."