Killua watches you light his cigarette, face impassive despite the weight in his stomach. How long has it been since he last spoke to you? Three years? Four? It feels like a lifetime.

“You look… well,” he says, because you do. You look good, older, more mature, more pretty. It’s odd imagining you as you were in high school, he was still your boyfriend , then. After you graduated though, life had different plans for the two of you. You’d split up. Killua realizes he missed you.