This Won't End Well

3: How To Force Your Neighbor To Have Lunch With You

The following day, Gon woke up to a familiar face. Or rather, a group of faces. Aang, Katara, and Sokka were on his computer screen, arguing about something stupid like usual. It was one of his favorite episodes, the one where the gaang meets Toph: arguably the best and most unproblematic character in the show.

He shut his computer, turning over and putting a pillow over his head. Holding it to his face with two hands, he groaned into it, letting out all his frustration that had been welling up over the past few days. He held it there a few seconds, letting his thoughts take over. It was only morning, and his mind was running laps around her; it was like she was the epicenter of his being. And she was gone. She left him.

It was that sentiment 'she left him' that did him in. Gon laid in bed at hardly noon, his heart in knots, his mind racing, his body tense. He didn't know how to label his feelings; all he knew is he felt... nauseous. It was a disgusting and horrible chain of emotions, ones that he would do anything to get rid of, even if just temporarily.

He threw the covers off his body and got up. Feeling gross and uncomfortable in his skin, he decided to take a shower. The hot water left red trails along his skin, a burning distraction or satisfying pain, if you will. He didn't want to get out. The water felt comforting. But as he had no other distractions, his thoughts started to resurface. So he hurried out and dried off in search of his newest diversion.

He waltzed into the kitchen wearing light denim jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and a color block zip-up. Of course, he also had on his signature green converse. On the counter, he saw a tiny scrap of torn paper.

Gon,
Leorio and I are off to work. At some point today,
take the trash out, or I'll take you out when
I get home. I mean it. We'll see you later.
-Kurapika

Gon rolled his eyes but walked over to the trash to take it out as Kurapika instructed him. He knew all too well that his roommate did not deliver empty threats, and he was genuinely scared of what he would do if he came home to a full trash bin.

He pulled it out of the bin and walked out of his apartment. He walked down the long corridor filled with doors and murmuring people behind them. At the end of the hall, a sign was tacked on the elevator: OUT OF ORDER.

Of course. Because why would the elevator work for him? Why would anything work for him? He started his long trudge down the stairs, muttering curses under his breath.

The third floor was where the nearest trash chute was, so he threw the bag in and turned to leave when he spotted a familiar someone.

"Killua?" He asked, walking over to where he was trudging up the steps, holding a box.

He peaked around the side of the box and rolled his eyes. "Ugh, Gon," He groaned, seeming nothing short of annoyed at the sight of Gon's existence.

Gon ignored his cold greeting, basically running to Killua's side. "What are you up to?" He chirped, smiling his award-winning smile.

"Do you just never see the boxes in my hands?" Killua replied harshly, looking at Gon with a blank expression.

"Oh, yeah," Gon chuckled nervously. Killua set the box down on the step in front of him. He looked at Gon with his eyes narrowed and his arms crossed, as if he was debating if he was worth talking to. "Do you need some help?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure you're sure?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure you're sure you're sure?"

Killua looked at Gon, blinking blankly. "I think that sentence killed some of my brain cells. Now, go away. I have things to do, and talking to you is not one of them," He growled, staring at Gon with the same intense scowl as before. But Gon didn't want to leave. He didn't want to go back to his apartment to have a date with his thoughts. Nothing sounded worse.