Breaking x Making Promises

Resting Bitch Face (Or Lack Thereof)

Killua's hand turned black and blue the following day, and the swelling was so terrible he couldn't hold his coffee mug by the handle. He looked like someone filled a black rubber glove with water and called it human. It was all just evidence of how pissed he had been last night—both drunk and furious.

He couldn't blame Retz for convincing him to go. Some part of him felt that it was inevitable. Even if he wanted to go back to the days when he avoided the party scene, he was still friendly with Knuckle and Uvo. He was bound to go back to Sigma Alpha, some day.

He just hoped that day wouldn't involve Freecss. Alas, that wasn't the case, and it was written all over his bruised hand.

He put his hip to the edge of the kitchen counter and pulled out his phone. From it, he found a swarm of notifications on his screen. Looking at them all, and the photo in the background, just reminded him of the fact that it used to be a picture of him and Gon on his lock screen. He had changed it in hopes of not thinking about the guy, but now he only thought about how painful it had been to change it.

It didn't help that Gon's name was littered through his notifications.

23:35 GON: where are you? can we talk?

00:12 GON: m sorry D:

00:12 GON: please talk to me

00:15 GON: can I call you?

00:15 Missed call from Gon Freecss

00:20 GON: why did you come to sigma?

01:34 Missed call from Gon Freecss

01:34 Missed call from Gon Freecss

01:35 Missed call from Gon Freecss

01:36 GON: i miss you s much babe plz answer

He was just drunk, Killua told himself, but fuck, that was a tough pill to swallow down.

He left Freecss on read and went to a text from Uvo that involved nothing but a link to some post on Twitter. He opened it and, in a moment of horror, put his hand to his mouth to cover his silent scream at the sight of the video. Someone had posted a video immediately following Freecss's punch to Knuckle's eye, which meant a complete replay of Killua sucker punching the idiot across the nose.

Knuckle had texted him, so he opened that message that read, "Don't open the link Uvo sent you."

Too late for that, he thought, pressing his swollen fist to his cheek.

He pocketed his phone—he didn't need to deal with that bullshit at eight in the morning. He picked up his coffee mug with both hands and let out a shuddered breath. His eyes burned so he closed them as he took a sip of his coffee. Once he had caffeine in him, he'd feel better. He'd feel better.

Killua wasn't sure how long he spent absorbed in an existential crisis that morning, but soon, he was broken from his reveries by the faint sound of a knock. He paused, lowering his mug slightly. It sounded like it came from the neighbor's door, but it was definitely in the back of the apartment where Killua now stood against the countertop, several paces away from the back door.

He waited until he heard it again and confirmed that it was, in fact, a knock on his door.

He debated not answering. It was eight thirty in the morning—as if anyone in their right mind would come knocking at that time on a Sunday. He played with the idea of it being Kurapika, and figured it was the most likely option. Kurapika ran on a different wavelength from all of them.