He woke with a groan, his body shivering, head pounding. His eyes opened slowly to a waterlogged shower head. This wasn't his bathroom. Killua sat up and rubbed his eyes. Everything was too bright anyway.

The first thing he noticed was that he was naked, which he probably should have noticed before, but it explained why he was so cold. He didn't see his clothes anywhere, but his phone was just beyond him, on the edge of the sink.

It wasn't the worst condition he'd ever woken up in. Sometimes he'd woken up in a stranger's arms, or with a stranger in his. One time he'd woken up covered in scratches and bruises.

He pushed himself out of the tub and retrieved his phone, catching a short glimpse of the bags under his eyes and his mussed hair before he couldn't bare to look anymore, and looked away.

Thirteen messages. And not just from Illumi.

Well, eight of them were from Illumi.

One was from Kurapika, two from Alluka, one from an unknown number, another from his father.

Killua took a deep breath, if his father was texting him, he could only guess what was going on.

Before he could open any of the messages- he'd probably open the one from the unknown number first to spare himself the guilt Illumi, Alluka, or worse, Kurapika would give him- his phone started going off. Now Illumi was calling him.

He hesitated to answer, knowing full well what he was in for if he did answer. After a few rings, he gave in, answering and putting the phone to his ear.

"Yo." He knew answering nonchalantly would work against him, but he couldn't help himself. It was sort of like proving to himself that he was okay enough to joke. Curse the day he couldn't joke anymore.

"Do you even know what time it is?" His brother hissed.

"Late? Or maybe early, I just woke up. What time is it?" From the other side, he could hear some faint talking. "Am I missing something important?"

"Honestly, Killu. Did you forget your own birthday?"

Killua laughed. He had the lack of clothes for it. "Is that what today is?"

He could hear Illumi sigh. "Yes, and it's been today for a while. It's six o'clock, Killu."

"The way you say that makes me think it's after noon."

"It is after noon."

Killua made a small sound. He'd either been sleeping the whole day, or he woke up and knew it was his birthday so he took some D2.

The former seemed very likely.

Killua hated his birthday, always did, always will, so it didn't really surprise him that even his clean self would rather be high off his ass than deal with his family's shit. His mother always made a really big deal out of his birthday, and he hated that, couldn't his birthday just pass like any other day?

If he had a choice, it would pass like any other day, with sleeping and chocolate and maybe a little bit of D2.

The important thing was, Killua understood that he had a problem, that there was something wrong with his dependence on this chemical, but he couldn't really bring himself to care enough to stop. He didn't think he ever would.

"Huh, did you see me in the morning?" He'd migrated back to the tub, sitting on the side of it.

"Yes, and I reminded you of the party."

"What'd I do?"

"You hissed at me."

He smirked; it was a reasonable reaction, whether he was high at the time or not. "So what exactly am I missing, probably dad stalling for time while I find my pants, yeah?"

"Find your what?" That was said loudly, and the other side grew hushed. Imagining Illumi standing among people suddenly shouting into his phone, causing everyone at the party to stare at him, Killua laughed.

"Yep. It's my birthday, I'm in my suit." He laid back against the wall. "Letting it all hang out."

"You're not... in anyone's bedroom, are you?" Illumi was quiet again, but angry.

"No, actually. I woke up in a bathtub. Don't worry, Il-nii, I'm all alone." He paused for a few beats. "But I still don't know where my clothes are."

"Who's bathroom?"

"I actually have no idea."

He heard a drawn out sigh. The speaking on the other side was distant now, as if Illumi had left the main room of the party. "I swear to God, Killu. Find your clothes and go back to the house. I'll figure out something to tell mom."

"Tell her I was at the college, painting."

"Fine, just get back to the house."

Illumi hung up first, and Killua put his phone away; he could check the messages later.

He slowly exited the bathroom, looking both ways, not seeing any pictures telling him who's house he could possibly be in.

But his tank top was hanging on the doorknob, which was a start.

He didn't really worry too much about walking around naked. Whoever owned this place had probably already seen him like this. So he slung the tanktop over his shoulder and looked in the room across the hall.

His shorts and boxers were on the bed, but he also saw the vague shape of someone laying in the bed, sleeping. He walked slowly, quietly as not to wake, and quickly redressed. At least he wasn't naked anymore.

He mussed his hair after slipping on the tanktop and crept toward the bed, peeking at who was in it, because he was curious, especially if this person had stuck their tongue down his throat and enthusiastically undressed him. He didn't feel anything, but that could mean he topped, or it was a girl. Or he didn't have sex at all.

"Motherfucker," he whispered, and suddenly hoped that he didn't have sex at all last night- or this afternoon. He also hoped that no tongues had been down his throat. He shoved the sleeping male.

"Hey," he hissed, "wake the fuck up you useless bastard and tell me what you remember."

The fake-sleeping man smirked and opened a yellow eye. "Ah, Killu, you're always so mean to me."

"Just tell me what you remember before I hit you."

Hisoka sat up, looking too pleased for Killua's liking. "Oh, that's nothing like what you said when I found you a couple of hours ago. Strolling down the street, would've ended up in someone's bed if I hadn't intervened. You're awfully flirty when you're high." The man winked, and Killua could feel his stomach turn.

"Don't tell me what I did, please. Just tell me, without detail, what happened."

"Hmmm, you turned green, are you okay?" Hisoka turned his head to the side. "Anyway, I found you in a particularly bad part of town, and I rescued you. Don't I deserve a thank you for my heroism?"

"Shut up," Killua sighed.

"Hmm? I thought you wanted me to tell you what happened? I mean, you did wake up naked in my apartment."

Killua sat down on the ground, putting his head in his hands. "Okay fine, just. Say what happened, don't be a douchebag about it."

"I took you back here, you tried to make out with me- did I mention that you were flirty when you're high? Because you are- I took off your shirt because you'd somehow gotten it dirty and then you took of the rest of your clothes, threw them everywhere and fell asleep in the bathtub."

Killua winced. "Damn, I'm a mess." Which was another joke that wouldn't be laughed at.

"Do you want me to call your brother?"

"That's another thing. I've been here for a few hours, and Illumi had no idea where I was. You could've called him when I fell asleep," he pointed out, poking Hisoka's forehead.

"I tried, he didn't pick up. Then I watched some golf." Which explained why he was asleep. Killua shook his head.

"Do you want to help or am I hitchhiking home?" His blue eyes raised to Hisoka's yellow. Hisoka stretched before slipping out of the bed.

"I'll get your shirt, you wait in the living room."

He stood and left the room and the teen on the floor. Killua stood, taking a deep breath.

It could have been worse. Hisoka could be an even-more-perverted-than-Hisoka stranger, that welcomed his advances, instead of Hisoka, who probably would have if he hadn't been engaged to Illumi.

Killua fished through his pockets, finding his bobby pins and fixing them in his hair while walking to where he assumed Hisoka's living room was.

He'd never been to Hisoka's house before, and he never wanted to go there again. Especially if Illumi was there. He shuddered at the thought of the two of them. It was all a big coincidence, really. Illumi shouldn't have been in that class at the college, but he was and he met Hisoka.

Hisoka was a political science major, because he liked it when people stabbed each other in the back. Illumi was a business major, to follow in their father's footsteps.

But they both knew who'd inherit the company. Killua would. Even though he majored in art.

Painting was his alternative to drugs. If he didn't have any D2 left, he'd work through the withdrawal through art, painting what he was feelings. Those paintings were always very dark, with blacks and reds as displays for his anger and physical pain.

He'd run out three times before, but he always got more. It wasn't like he needed it, or wanted it, it had simply become something of routine, like how when someone gets a headache and they take some aspirin. When Killua got bored or felt the achings of withdrawal he'd take some D2.

Killua had a rule though, he wouldn't paint when he was high, he'd done it before and had to get an entirely new brushes and paints because of the sloppy mess he'd made.

His dad knew about his addiction, but never really did anything. As long as he was never high in front of the public, he could get as messed up as he fucking wanted to and Silva wouldn't care.

His mother, on the other hand, also knew about it, and has tried again and again to talk him into stopping. He found the attempts annoying and was commonly shit-faced afterwards.

If she did find out that he wasn't painting today, he'd be in for the nagging of his life. And even if she didn't support his painting, at least she didn't hate it as much as she hated the drugs.

"I heard Mr. Zoldyck was throwing you a celebratory party. Nineteen's a big year for you isn't it? Inheriting the company and all."

Killua winced once more, rubbing his middle finger against his temple. "Don't remind me."

"Why don't you give the position to Illumi or Milluki?"

"I fucking tried. Dad said I couldn't, that I'd regret it in the future."

Hisoka scoffed, grabbing his keys off the coffee table. "Try telling him that it's your future and you can do whatever the fuck you want."

"He also said I 'couldn't make it as the next Van Gogh.' Fucking hell, I don't want to be Van Gogh. Why does everyone compare a budding artist to Van Gogh? I want to be Killua. I want to be known as Killua Zoldyck."

Hisoka looked at him for a moment, before his eyes flitted to his phone.

"You've got a text."

Senritsu: No subject I found this online...

Killua closed his eyes before opening the message. Sure enough, it was a picture of him a couple nights ago, when he'd gotten really bored and decided it would be a good idea to go out. So much for keeping his problems out of the public eye. Hell, if Senritsu's seen it, everyone's seen it.

Maybe that was what Kurapika's text was about as well.

He skimmed through the other texts he'd neglected. Illumi yelling, Illumi yelling, Illumi yelling, Alluka yelling, Kurapika being genuinely concerned, unknown number which turned out to be Leorio, Kurapika's boyfriend, introducing himself and worrying about him and how his irresponsibility is affecting Kurapika.

The text from his father, though. He read it with pursed lips.

He'd seen the picture on a morning show. The commentator had questioned Silva's ability to run a business since he couldn't even control his own son.

His father telling him they have an interview on Saturday. Enough time to get his shit together.

Okay, maybe that's not exactly what he said, but it was what he meant.

Killua would have to be clean for the rest of the week.

Considering it was only Tuesday, he had quite the journey ahead of him. And a lot of painting. And coffee.

'That,' he thought as he stood and followed Hisoka to his car, 'is one of the problems with being in a family that's a public spectacle.'

'You're forced to dance however they want you to.'

Hisoka's car, when they reached it, made Killua hesitate.

The thing was, it was very obviously Hisoka's. A small blue-ish purple compact.

It looked just about as creepy as its owner.

The ride home was quiet. Like a funeral march, but maybe because that was how it felt to Killua.

Even though his family would be at the celebration, he still had to face Gotoh, maybe Canaria. And no doubt they knew what he was up to.

They were the only two workers he actually liked too. They were cool. Gotoh used to do a cool coin trick when he was a child. Canaria was around his age.

In fact, they'd grown up together. Her parents worked for his before she'd gotten a job there as well, that happened when they were sixteen. He used to play with Canaria, once upon a time, but when they were eleven it suddenly stopped. He didn't really know why, and it still kind of bothered him.

Hisoka slowed outside the gates and nodded. "Your stop."

Killua gave him a terse nod, and got out of the car.

He watched Hisoka drive away, refusing to admit, not even to himself, that he dreaded going into the manor now. The stone floors and medieval architecture of the house had always made him sort of uneasy. Especially on days like this, when he knew he'd done something to warrant disappointment.

He pushed the gates open and made a bee-line to the shed just outside the manor.

In their childhood, Killua and Alluka would spend lots of time by the shed, pretending it was something else. A house, a space shuttle, a log cabin, sometimes it was merely used as a prop, the perfect door for their adventures, the tower that Alluka was locked up in. One time it was a haunted castle, courtesy of a story Zeno told them. He'd knelt down, the children beside him, and told them the story of the seer girl. They'd both shivered. When Killua got to college he met someone who somehow reminded him of the story, Palm Siberia. He used to think she wanted to kill him, but people change.

Sometime when he was in high school, the shed had become Killua's art studio, where he kept his paints and brushes, with an easel in the middle of the floor and finished paintings leaning against the wall.

Some were messes of dark colors, one was a dramatic interpretation of Kurapika, he'd gotten permission to paint his friend first, with red eyes and chains. He liked that one, it made his friend look powerful. People never really believed Kurapika was strong, but Killua knew better. The guy secretly had a black belt in Judo. He'd kicked Killua's ass on so many occasions, Killua learned not to challenge Kurapika to a fight.

It was a process, though.

He sat down at his current project, at the moment, he only had the sketch. It was supposed to be a happy painting, but he couldn't think of anything to make the subject. He was going to paint the embodiment of light, but he didn't have a face. There was no way in hell that he would start painting without knowing what he would paint. He'd done it once before. It turned into a fearsome display of anger and terror.

When he finished that, he'd started crying. It displayed so well what he was feeling at the time.

He didn't like seeing how he felt. That painting had joined the others of its kind, the ones he'd painted when he was going through withdrawal.

It felt like hours, how long Killua was sitting in front of the empty painting, before he heard the door to the shed creak open.

"Oh, Killu." His mother walked in and rested her hand on his back. "You missed a great party, why you would rather be in here with these... things... is rather beyond me."

'Well,' Killua silently sniped, 'being in here means I get to spend less time with you.' He glared at the painting, pretending to be actually thinking about it.

"It's like you're trying to distance yourself from us."

'I am.'

"Trying to cast us away."

'That too.'

"And ever since you got that apartment, we barely see you around unless you're painting."

'Because there isn't any room for my art stuff at the place.'

"And to think you live alone with a female, it makes a mother worry."

'Yeah, but it's Senritsu. She's like my sister. Plus, I'm not even attracted to girls, mom.'

"I just worry about the kind of people you spend time with."

'And you're not worried about Hisoka?'

He was tempted to say the last one out loud, but held back. It's not like his mother needed to worry about Illumi too.

"You've met Kurapika, mom," was what he ended up saying. Kurapika, responsible Kurapika, was always his trump card when it came to his mother disliking his friends.

"And that's the only one I have met, it's like you're keeping all of your other friends from me."

'I'm really not. You could easily come to my apartment and meet Senritsu. Because she and Kurapika are the only friends I have.'

"I do say you could easily meet Ritsu," Killua said with a sigh, "she's almost always at the apartment. Maybe you could hear her practice her flute."

He could feel Kikyo's disappointed eyes on him, as he stood and turned, flashing his mother a brief smile.

"Speaking of, she's expecting me soon, big thing she and Kurapika have been planning. I shouldn't know about it, but I do. Bye, mom."

He slipped past her, ignoring anything she said to try to get him to come back. He pulled out his phone, sending an SOS to Kurapika, as he walked out the gate of the manor.

It's his birthday. The perfect present, in his opinion, would be to be left alone.