Itami || Killua Z.

3.5

"But it's just the price I pay. Destiny is calling me."
- 'Mr. Brightside,' by The Killers

Sleep didn't come to you easy that night. Excitement had made a home in your mind and liked to party, regularly. You kept waving off thoughts of this and that, but they just kept coming. One particular thought was stubborn and wouldn't go away.

You wondered what Nen type Killua was. 

You tried to combat this by adding Gon in as well, which you hoped would make the thought less invasive. In truth, it only made you all the more curious about them. 

That's the reason you looked like a dead slug in the morning. You stood staring at your closet for well over ten minutes, your brain feeling fuzzy and empty. You ended up with beige overalls and with a lavender sweater under, fuzzy socks for comfort. And because you didn't plan on leaving the house. 

Finishing up your stale morning routine, you walked down the hall to the kitchen, feeling more and more hungry by the minute. You checked the time on the stove, making sure it wasn't too late. It read 11:00 AM, late morning. 

The kitchen looked undisturbed, meaning that your mom either wasn't awake or she left to the grocery store. Either way, you were glad. You didn't feel like seeing her. 

You opened up the blinds, tired of the bright fluorescent lights. The light shone through, illuminating pieces of dust in the air. Opening up the glass door blinds as well, the kitchen felt more homely than it did before. 

"Alright, food," you whispered to yourself, walking toward the fridge. You could have cereal, or you could try making something else. After staring inside of the fridge for a good solid three minutes, you decided on trying to make some omelettes.

Grabbing five eggs out of the carton, you placed them in a bowl and grabbed some soy sauce. Placing it on the counter, you grabbed another bowl and a fork, along with some salt and pepper.

Pulling your sleeves up, you cracked egg by egg in the bowl. Eyeballing the soy sauce, you closed the lid and grabbed a fork. Breaking each and every one of the yolks first, which was your favorite part, you quickly mixed them together, creating a murky yellow color. Adding in the salt and pepper, mixing them in as well, you moved to the stove.

Opening the bottom cub-board, you grabbed a frying pan and placed it on the stove. Turning the heat up, you saw the fire appear below. Adding in a small piece of butter, you waited a little before pouring the eggs in.

You weren't able to flip the omelette, so part of it ended out of the stove and onto the fire. The phrase, 'Out of the frying pan and into the fire,' seemed to apply well here. It started smoking and you could only hope that the fire alarms wouldn't go off. They thankfully didn't, but it smelt like burnt egg.

The omelette tasted good though.

"It smells like rotten egg in here," Hiromi remarked, walking into the kitchen. Their outfit was immaculate and their hair was perfect, "What'd you do?" You were washing your hands after cleaning up the mess.

"Failed omelette," you gave a thumbs down, drying your hand on the hand-towel. "So, what're we learning today?"

"At least let me eat first," they grumbled, opening up the fridge and taking out some leftover lasagna. They placed some on a plate and heat it up, the microwave creating a droning sound. It soon beeped, and when he opened the microwave some steam blew out.

They quickly ate, placing their dishes in the sink. "Alright, where were we yesterday?" Hiromi asked, sitting back at the counter. You sat next to them, criss-cross applesauce on the stool.