Chapter Text
The aquarium, like the ferry ride, is pleasant enough. The one in Yorknew is bigger, but this one is well known for its—
“Whales!” Nanika says, pointing at the life-size models that hang from the ceiling of the entrance atrium. Blue spotlights slide over the walls, bathing the room in a watery glow.
“Oh,” Alluka breathes. “They’re beautiful.”
Killua begrudgingly agrees—even replicated, there’s something gentle and powerful about them. Their sheer size alone is incredible; it’s hard to believe something that massive lives on the same planet as they do.
“Wow,” Gon says. The blue lights bathe his upturned face. “This reminds me of Whale Island.” His eyes slide to Killua. “Don’t you think?”
Well, yeah, Killua wants to say. But beyond the name and shape of the island itself, this cool, blue place is nothing like the warmth and sunshine of Gon’s home.
I just want you, he’d said.
“Yeah,” Killua says.
“You guys should all visit sometime,” Gon says. “Aunt Mito would love you have you.”
“Ah, the girls have school,” Killua says. Usually he and the girls take a trip every summer together, but maybe…maybe this summer.
That’d be nice, Killua thinks.
Ah, but Gon will be going back to Kite…right?
Killua looks back up to ask, just in time to see Gon paste on a smile. It happens so quickly that if Killua had blinked he would’ve missed it.
“For sure!” Gon says. “We’ll have to work out our schedules.”
Killua’s stomach drops. What had he said?
He opens his mouth to say something, anything, when Alluka steps in for him.
“We’d love that!” she says. “Brother always says he had a great time when he visited you guys.”
Heat immediately floods Killua’s cheeks. He clears his throat. “Well, I did,” he says defensively, not even sure what he’s defensive about.
“I’m glad!” Gon says. He’s smiling again, although it looks a little odd. Gon’s smiles are always genuine, of course—he smiles at everyone the same way—but this…it’s like a window’s been closed. Killua can still see through the glass, but the air has died. He’s been shut out in some way.
He thinks about all the birthday gifts he’s received over the years from Mito and feels a rush of shame.
“I’m glad you had fun then,” Gon says. He turns back to the whales, his eyes far away.
Alluka looks between them, frowning. She opens her mouth, then closes it.
Killua looks down at his shoes. Well. It’s not like Gon had asked to visit him all these years, either.
Nanika speaks, and the moment eases. “You guys wanna check out the jellyfish?”
“Oh, hell yeah,” Alluka says. “Brother, didn’t you say they had one of those giant tanks that’s like three stories tall in the main hall?”
“Wait, this isn’t the main hall?” Gon asks, and they start walking.
After a moment, Killua follows them, his hands in his pockets.
As they roam the shadowed halls, Killua wonders. Wonders: why hasn’t he visited Whale Island in all these years? Why hasn’t he called Gon?
Gon hadn’t said it, but the answer had been there, fading away with the blue lights. The uncomfortable truth, simple and devastating as he steps back to look at it:
He hadn’t wanted to.
And Gon knew that—knows that.
No wonder he’d looked so sad.
Killua stands in front of the blue tank. Watches Gon and his sister point at something from across the glass. Gon smiles and turns to look at him, not a trace of disappointment in his eyes—only light.
Fuck.
***
For dinner that night, they go to a bistro just across the street, because Alluka and Nanika are craving some soup and Killua has yet to deny his sisters anything.
“Shall we take it to-go?” he suggests as they step inside the shop, blessedly warm after walking through the balmy spring air. It hadn’t been this chilly when they arrived, but perhaps the incoming storm is to blame; the sky over the sea is almost black. It’s a little odd to see, since the sun’s still out on their side of town.
Alluka nods. “Sounds like a good idea. Wouldn’t want to get caught out in the storm.”
Gon agrees. He grins, turning to look through the windows at the clouds. His eyes are almost hungry. Lightning flashes near the horizon, over the sea. Gon whistles. “Look at that lightning,” he murmurs, almost too soft for Killua to hear. “Beautiful.”
Did Gon always like thunderstorms this much? Killua doesn’t think so—he’d heard the story from Leorio about how he and Gon and Kurapika had met on that boat, and how Gon had been giving people water and passing around buckets for every poor bastard who’d had a headache. Maybe that first adventure had planted some fondness in him for storms.
Killua nearly smiles at the thought—Gon, just before they had met. Gon, just before he changed Killua’s life, and neither of them had known it.
“What’s so funny?” Gon asks once they exit the shop, paper bags in hand. The wind is beginning to pick up, salty and charged.
Killua raises an eyebrow. “I’m not laughing.”
“You were smiling about something,” Gon says, elbowing him. “C’mon, tell me.”
There’s that voice again—the one that’s wheedled everything from Chocorobos to mumbled confessions out of Killua.
“I was just thinking,” Killua says hotly.
“About what?”
There—that lilt, that upturned corner of his lips. Smug bastard.
“None of your business, Freecs.”
Ahead of them, Alluka calls back, “Ask him again, Gon—you’re nearly there.”
“Hey!”
Gon neatly sidesteps the kick that Killua aims for his ankles. “Jenny for your thoughts?” he says, grinning.
“If you had to give me money every time you asked me that, you’d be broke,” Killua says. But Alluka’s right—they both learned this little dance a long time ago, and it seems they still know it.
“But Killua,” Gon says, his smiling fading a little. He tilts his head. “I can’t read your mind, you know?” A strange little laugh accompanies this, a bit sad. “So I have to resort to bribery.”
“That’s not very ethical,” Killua says automatically. Can’t read his mind? What does that mean? He feels thrown off, like he’s missed a step in the dance.
They walk another half block before he says anything.
“I just,” he begins. “I was remembering some stuff Leorio told me. About how the three of you first met. I just thought…well, around that time I was probably just leaving my house. It would’ve been cool to have been there with you guys.”
Silence. Killua blinks, then turns back to find Gon beaming at him.
His face heats up immediately. “Shut up,” he mumbles.
“But I didn’t say anything!” Gon says, still smiling. God, even his freckles are shining, the weird sunlight from the half-stormy sky making his shadow darker, his eyes lighter. He looks oddly bright, like he’s been plucked from somewhere else and placed here, in front of Killua.
How the hell can someone look holy while holding a paper bag of tomato soup?
The light is weird—the sky is black but the sun is out, and it’s nothing like that day when he’d carried Gon back to the border from their encounter with Pitou. But it’s weird, how some moments overlap—unbound by time—and for a moment Killua is sitting at the foot of a bed bathed in light and thinking I don’t deserve to be here, I don’t deserve to be here—
“Killua?”
Killua blinks.
Now Gon is staring at him again, eyes no longer alight with mirth—he looks…not concerned, exactly. A little curious, like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle.
Even Alluka has stopped walking, stopped at a crosswalk and half-turned ahead of them, watching him out of the corner of her eye. She raises an eyebrow. You okay?
There are no cars coming; Killua can’t see what color the light is, if it’s okay to start walking.
“Killua?” Gon says again, this time taking a step towards him. He looks more concerned now, that little line between his brows. “Are you okay?”
Green. The light is green. Okay to walk.
“Yeah,” Killua says. He suddenly feels lighter than he has in years. He has never deserved the people in his life, but maybe that’s okay. They still stay. There’s nothing he can do to earn that, he’s learned. Maybe there never was.
As soon as the thought forms, the familiar wall of Illumi’s eyes rises for a moment, unbidden, but he blinks it away—not anymore. He doesn’t do that anymore, just like he doesn’t kill people anymore, just like he doesn’t hate himself anymore. (Well, most days. But he’s trying).
He elbows Gon, careful to avoid splashing their soup. “C’mon. Light’s green,” he says, and he doesn’t smile, but he’s steady.
Gon considers him for a moment longer, that unknowable emotion crossing his face once more—I can’t read your mind, you know? he’d said, and perhaps Killua should’ve replied Me neither—before he, too, blinks it away. “Alright,” he says, still unsure, but Killua’s not having it.
He grabs his hand, the one not holding their soup, and pulls them both after Alluka, into the strange, stormy sunlight.
***
They crack open their containers at the kitchen table. Killua’s handing Alluka her spoon when the sky opens up.
“Made it just in time,” Gon murmurs. He has a red mustache of tomato soup above his lip.
Killua hands him a napkin. “This weather is crazy,” he says. He’s seen a lot of different climates in his travels with Alluka and Nanika, and even more when he’d been traveling with Gon, but he’s never quite gotten used to how quickly the wind can change on the coast.
“It’s like this on Whale Island, too,” Gon says. “The weather can change so fast on the coast.”
Killua can’t help it; he snorts. For someone who claims to not be able to read Killua’s mind, he has an uncanny way of knowing what Killua’s thinking.
“Well,” Alluka says. “That means tonight will be even cozier than usual. We should play a game!”
Cozier, right. Killua rips off a chunk of his bread and dips it in his soup. Gon does the same, and Killua realizes that he can’t remember if he picked that habit up from Gon or the other way around.
His stomach feels warm—stupid, stupid. Over bread, of all things. He shovels more in his mouth and says an approximation of, “Do you have anything in mind?”
Gon’s eyes light up. “Kite and the gang taught me this really fun card game when I first joined up—I could teach you guys, if you’d like?”
It’s strange to see the years framed like that—when I first joined up—years ago, now. Card games, a leather jacket, impulse control—what else has Gon picked up?
Outside, the rain washes steadily against the windows—maybe, hopefully, there’ll be thunder with this storm.
Killua leans forward and relishes the curl of satisfaction when Gon does the same.
“Teach us,” he says.
Gon grins, never one to back down from a challenge.
To no one’s surprise, Alluka wins.
“You just need to get better at lying, Brother,” she says, looking far too pleased with herself.
Killua groans, throwing his cards on the table—over half the deck. (Gon has the other half). He sinks into the warmth of the couch and pokes her in the side. “It was literally my job to lie, you know. For like, the first twelve years of my life.” Well, his job had actually been murder, but lying had come with the gig. “I lie all the time.”
“Yeah, to other people,” Nanika says.
Alluka nods. She gestures to Gon, who’s sprawled out in despair in front of the fireplace. “Not to us, though.”
Killua bites back the retort—I’ve lied to everyone here and you had no idea—just in time. Probably not the best thing to say.
“Killua’s lied to me before,” Gon says from the floor. His voice is so mild that despite the shock that jolts down Killua’s spine, he can only snort.
“Me too,” Alluka says, also mild. “But I’ve done the same to him too, so.”
“Liars, all of us,” Killua sighs. He glances over at Gon, who’s still puffing out his cheeks. Has Gon ever lied to him? Like, he’s definitely bent the truth a bit, but an outright lie…what would that even look like?
“Wait,” Killua says. He sits up with a grin. “Let’s play two truths and a lie.”
Gon sits up too, his eyes gleaming. “Yeah,” he says, eyes on Killua. His voice is still easygoing, but there’s something almost heated in his voice that makes color creep up Killua’s cheeks, unbidden.
“Are you sure?” Alluka says, frowning. “Nanika and I will just win again.”
Killua shoots her a look which she returns with an angelic smile. Oh, it’s on.
“Alright,” he says. “Fine. To make it fair to Gon, neither of us can play against each other.”
“I think I’ll be fine,” Gon says earnestly. “I know both of you pretty well. Especially you, Killua.” This last part said with a wink.
Alluka’s eyes flick to Killua’s, which Killua pointedly ignores. He clears his throat. “Okay, great! Who wants to start?”
“I will!” Alluka says brightly. “Okay.” She scrunches her nose as she thinks—a habit picked up from one of her school friends. “One: Killua cuts me and Nanika’s hair.”
“Truth,” Gon says immediately, which makes all the Zoldycks in the room raise an eyebrow.
“That’s a compliment!” Gon protests, but he’s holding back a smile. “I swear, your hair looks really pretty, you two. Killua does a great job—that’s how I know it’s the truth.”
“Well, you can’t know that for sure,” Alluka says with a sniff, but she looks pleased. “Okay, number two: after I graduate, I want to go to medical school like Leorio and become a psychiatrist.”
It takes every old assassin trick Killua’s ever learned to not react—truth or not, this is the first time he’s heard of this. He catches Alluka’s eye, and she gives a tiny nod when Gon's not looking. Truth.
The shock subsides a little, becoming secondary to the warmth in his chest.
His little sister—a doctor. Someone who helps people, who saves lives.
He’s so proud he could cry.
But the game’s still going—after a moment, Gon nods. “Okay. Number three?”
Alluka smiles. “We first met in a hospital.”
Oh, she’s good.
Gon tilts his head, then smiles back at her. “Lie.”
“Why do you think that?”
“I met Nanika in the hospital,” Gon says without hesitation. “Not you.”
Alluka blinks, and Nanika smiles at him. “That’s right,” she says, pleased.
“Congratulations,” Alluka says, beaming. “You get a point!”
Heh—they’re crafty, his sisters. They didn’t need to test Gon, but perhaps even the girls have the equivalent of a shovel talk. If she and Nanika had asked anyone else, Killua doubts they would’ve given a right answer.
But this is Gon, and now he’s winning their game.
“Okay, my turn!” Gon says. He drums his fingers on the floorboards. “Hmm…okay.” He puts up a finger. “One: when I was seven, I almost drowned when I got pulled out to sea by a riptide.”
Huh. That one could very well be true.
“Two,” Gon says. He grins at Killua. “I can hold my breath longer than Killua can.”
“Lie,” Killua says immediately. Killua can hold his breath for seven minutes—they had tested this, at some point in their time together, and Killua had won. At the time, it didn’t really feel like a win, just further proof of his own otherness.
But Gon only flashes him a smile—that smile that Killua can’t read. “Three,” he says. “When I got your text, I was so happy I couldn’t sleep for a week straight.”
Killua blushes all the way up to the back of his neck, red spreading faster than Gon’s soup had stained his napkin.
“Well?” Gon says, his eyes as earnest as always.
Killua picks at the corner of his sweater.
“Huh,” Alluka says, finger to her chin in thought. She thinks a moment longer. “Three is the lie,” she says finally, nodding.
Gon looks at Killua.
This was a bad idea; oh, why did he think he could get the drop on Gon in a game of honesty? Why did he think this would be easier than just…asking Gon what he means when he says things like I can’t read your mind, Killua?
Another game he’s played with Gon and lost. And the worst part is—he’s not even upset about it.
“Also three,” he eventually mumbles.
Because—back when they traveled together, Gon would usually sleep like a rock, but whenever he got really excited, he wouldn’t sleep at all. He’d stare up at stars and hotel ceilings and forest canopies, so excited for the next day of their grand adventure that Killua, who was always lying beside him, wouldn’t be able to sleep either. He’d say things like Mito used to make me the best chocolate cake, you’d really like it—what’s your favorite flavor of frosting? and Tell me about your favorite spots on Kukuroo Mountain, and Killua, who could go for weeks without rest, would indulge him, and neither of them would get any sleep that night.
He’d texted Gon a full two weeks before their rendezvous at the airport—not one week. Logically, then…
“It was longer than a week,” Killua says with a cough. “And uh. You seemed really excited about this trip, so.”
When Gon smiles, it’s without an ounce of shame or embarrassment. “Right on,” he says, so pleased to have been recognized that it almost makes Killua forget that he’s finally won a point.
Almost.
***
In the end, it’s a tie between the two teams. Killua learns that Gon is an excellent liar, but he has a tell—his smile looks different. His lips kind of…scrunch. It’s endearing as hell.
“M’kay,” Allluka says, after the well of things they no longer know about each other dries up. “I think we’re done for the night.”
Killua grins at Gon. “Next time, Freecs.”
Gon punches his shoulder. “Fine by me.” He smiles, close-mouthed and true.
***
(Later that night, Killua dreams of the cliffs again, except this time he’s standing on the edge, where Gon had been. He recognizes the scene this time—there’s that same odd feeling of detachment that he gets whenever Milluki got a little too enthusiastic with the whip. Floating, aimless.
He peers over—the sun’s not out but it’s daytime, sky a lighted gray. Below, the waves crash against the cliffs in white sparks.
When I was seven, says the sea.
Killed four people, says the sky.
Hold my breath longer than you can, say the waves.
Below, in the swirling darkness, floats a fishing pole, red bobber dragging up and down and up and down—)
***
He feels, rather than sees, Gon register his waking up.
A hand on his shoulder, Gon’s breath sweet and warm against his lips. He takes in the planes of his face in the darkened room—internal clock says it’s around two thirty.
“Gon?” Disorientation falls away. In its place comes something that feels comfortable and heavy, draping around his shoulders.
“You were having a nightmare,” Gon says matter-of-factly.
Ah. It’s been a while since they’ve done this, but those nights on Greed Island rise up, their warmth tangible even now, even in memory. Somehow, he always knew when Killua was having a nightmare, even though Killua has slept soundlessly since he was three.
“Thanks,” Killua says roughly.
He doesn’t ask why Gon is in his room, but Gon offers him an explanation anyway. “I was just about to head out,” he says, his voice soft. “Wanna go for a walk on the sea wall? Rain’s stopped.”
“Sure,” Killua says, not bothering to keep the relief out of his voice.
Gon only smiles. No, he has never pitied him, Killua thinks. Perhaps that is why.
***
They pass a bar that’s still open. Gon nudges his shoulder. “You hungry?”
Now that he asks—yeah, Killua is actually kind of hungry. “I could eat.”
The bar is quaint and charming, much like the rest of the town—with red booths and wooden walls and warm lights hanging from the ceiling. There are a surprising number of people out for the hour, although Killua doesn’t really know what a normal amount of people for a bar would be.
Their waitress squints at Killua. “You old enough to drink?”
“Yes,” Killua says at the same time as Gon.
Gon laughs because he’s a jerk. “But we’ll be dining in,” he says, flashing her that trademark Freecs smile.
She visibly brightens; Killua frowns. “Follow me,” she says.
She leads them to a small booth in the corner, beside the window on the side of the restaurant facing the ocean.
To Killua’s surprise, Gon orders a beer.
“You drink?”
Gon smiles. “Sometimes. With Kite’s people, if and after we have a good Hunt.”
“Huh,” Killua says, filing the information away. He doesn’t drink himself. Mostly because he physically can’t get drunk, but also because he’s never really seen the appeal. “What’s it like?”
Gon trails a finger around the edge of his glass. “Getting drunk?” he says. He has one of Killua’s hair ties around his freckled wrist—one of the girls must’ve given it to him. “Everyone’s different. I get giggly.”
“You’re giggly sober,” Killua points out.
Gon snorts. “Yeah, that’s true. But everything seems funnier after a few glasses.” He takes a sip, making eye contact with Killua the whole time. When he finishes, he props his chin on his hand, still looking and Killua, and Killua can’t breathe.
Fuck, he’s beautiful. Killua wants to…he doesn’t know. For some reason, his jaw aches. He clenches his fists under the table.
Then Gon smiles and says, “See? One sip and you look funnier already.”
The moment breaks. Killua sputters and throws a fry at him, which Gon catches in his mouth because he’s an animal.
“Shut up,” Killua mutters, face burning. He glares at his soda and wills the heat away.
A little later, as they’re polishing off their burgers, Gon says. “I wonder, though. Could you use your Nen somehow?”
Killua scraps the last of the ketchup from his basket with a fry. “Use Nen for what?”
“To get drunk,” Gon says. “Like, Godspeed changes how you react to stuff, right?”
Huh. He has a point.
“Only if you want to, of course,” Gon says hurriedly. “It was just an idea.”
“No, no,” Killua says, already waving over their waitress. “I wanna try.”
Gon’s so…so square.
Killua informs him of his as they leave the bar, bellies full of fried food and Killua’s head feeling pleasantly airy. “Gon,” he says, very seriously. “You’re square.”
Gon snorts, then hiccups, then burps, which should be gross but isn’t, for some reason. "What does that mean?”
Idiot. Doesn’t even know he’s square. “Means you got—you’ve got these stupid shoulders and—” Killua tries to remember the word— “Jaw. Like your Dad’s. Kinda.” Killua frowns. You look like Ging wasn’t exactly what he was trying to say, but now he can’t remember what he was trying to say.
“Thanks?” Gon says.
“You’re welcome.” Man, this is weird. Everything seems brighter, blurrier, like a watercolor painting still drying. And Gon is literally glowing, like he’s all lit up from the inside.
Killua’s mouth decides to inform him of this as well. “You’re glowing,” he says, the words tripping over each other. “You’re like—it’s like you’re light.”
Silence, and. Ah, fuck.
“I’m light?” Gon says, giggling. (See? Killua had told him. Giggly).
And okay, yeah. Right now it sounds funny—hell, everything’s funny right now. Even Gon’s leather jacket is funny, the funniest thing Killua’s ever seen.
“Yeah, Gon,” Killua says, and it’s almost a sigh. “You are light.”
They’re quiet for a moment, swaying down the street. Killua sighs.
“So’re you,” Gon says suddenly, voice serious. He stops walking, so Killua does too. Then he looks at Killua, so Killua looks at him, too.
Where has he seen this before? Gon’s eyes are wide and dark, like he’s looking at the World Tree or the small-billed swans or any of the other beautiful things they’d seen together on their travels a lifetime ago—like he’s looking at one of those impossible things, instead of Killua with a ketchup stain on his shirt and his hair a rat’s nest from his nightmare.
“You always were,” Gon continues, almost to himself. “Are. Like—” he furrows his brow, makes a wavy hand motion that Killua can’t even begin to interpret. “Like a lighthouse. Showed me the way home when I was lost.”
And Killua—Killua can’t stand it. He sways forward, gets his face right in Gon’s—a mirror of Gon waking him up earlier tonight.
“Gon,” he says, voice equally as serious. “Can I kiss you?”
Gon freezes, and his eyes grow, if possible, even wider than before. He nods so fast he nearly headbutts him. “Yes,” he breathes. Killua’s heart soars. “Yes, yes, yes.”
Killua closes his eyes.
Gon’s lips are warm and chapped, and he tastes like French fries and beer. Killua makes a noise—half sigh, half laugh—and Gon’s hand comes up to cradle the back of his head. Everything is warm and messy and a little wet, and when Killua pulls away, he wonders how long ago he could’ve been kissing Gon, because he definitely should’ve done this sooner.
Gon’s eyes are bright, his hand still cradling the back of Killua’s head. He drags it through the long strands, down the back of his neck, around the curve of his jaw, up to his cheek. Killua shivers, rooted to the spot. A tsunami could hit right now and he wouldn’t notice—Gon’s warm hand on his cheek the only thing keeping him from floating away into the moonless night.
“Okay?” Gon whispers. They’re still standing in the street, a few steps away from the yellow light of a streetlamp. Behind them, steady as always, the ocean.
Killua feels something in him shift, just an inch. He wonders, oddly, what time it is, and whether or not the girls know they’ve left. He wonders how long this sleepy warmth spreading through his lungs will last. Wonders if he can hold on to it for a little while longer.
It isn’t fair. It’s so fucking unfair. He’s just gotten to know him a little better—they’ve just started to relearn each other, and now they’re running out of time.
“Let’s head back,” he says in lieu of a real answer, which seems to trouble Gon, that line between his eyebrows reappearing like an old friend. It disappears, though, when Killua holds out a hand, blushing furiously all the while.
They walk back to the house in silence, through the back door, into the hallway. They stand in front of Killua’s door.
Killua lets go first. “Good night, Gon,” he says softly.
In the soft darkness, Gon’s eyes are bright. His lips part. Close.
“Good night, Killua,” he says, even softer, and walks away.
***
He should’ve drunk water before he went to sleep.
“You should’ve drunk some water,” Alluka informs him as she flips a pancake.
He groans and presses his fingers to his temples—he didn’t even drink that much. Who would’ve thought that under the assassin’s immunity, he was actually a lightweight.
Gon, of course, looks totally unaffected, although a little sheepish about it. “I’m sorry,” he says. “It was my idea.”
“Yeah, well,” Killua says, wincing. He knocks back the headache medicine that Gon picked up this morning. Gon had somehow woken up at the crack of dawn to get it from the convenience store, even though it must’ve meant he hadn’t slept any more than a few hours. “I was the idiot who followed through, so.”
“When did you guys leave?” Alluka says, coming over with a plate of hot pancakes. She puts the chocolate chip ones on Killua’s plate. He mumbles his thanks.
“Hmm,” Gon says. “Must’ve been a little past midnight?” It’s technically not a lie.
She puts the blueberry pancakes on her and Gon’s plates. Her voice, when she speaks, is casual. Too casual. “And when did you come back?”
“What is this, an interrogation?” Killua says around his pancakes. They’re good—he taught her well.
“You don’t get to say anything,” she says primly. “You did this every time I went out for a year.”
Fine. He can admit that.
“It wasn’t too late,” Gon says, the picture of innocence.
Killua shoves more pancakes in his mouth.
***
They don’t talk about it.
Like, not even a little. Killua keeps glancing over at Gon when he’s not looking, his mind usually between holy shit I want to kiss him again and holy shit I shouldn’t have done that.
He’d expected…he doesn’t know. Perhaps a step forward, a refusal (stupid, he knows, when Gon is the one who asked him to stay)—some kind of change, at the very least.
Instead, Gon acts like everything is the same. He cracks jokes with Alluka, plays cards with Nanika, smiles that same smile at Killua that makes his stomach feel all warm and scrambled.
It’s a new kind of torture—the few days to the festival unchanged from the days before it, and Killua still has no idea what they’re going to do when it’s all over.
“Hey,” Gon says, the night before they’re due to go out on the water. The night before the whales are supposed to start showing up.
They’re getting ice cream. Killua got chocolate, of course, and Alluka and Nanika chose strawberry. Gon got pistachio, because he has horrible taste.
Said ice cream is currently forming a mustache above his lip, which he licks away. Killua is finding that most of the gross things Gon does aren’t actually gross at all, a phenomenon he refuses examine any further than acknowledgement.
“Are you okay?” Gon asks.
Killua bites into his ice cream; it feels good against his teeth. Does he bring it up? Is there even anything to bring up?
Does the kiss mean they’re…he doesn’t know. Together, now? What the fuck does together even mean?
Gon tilts his head, ice cream temporarily forgotten. He looks…concerned. Killua wonders when this kind of attention from Gon stopped being twisted proof of their friendship, something that secretly pleased the part of himself not locked away behind Illumi’s needle, and instead something to avoid.
“I’m okay,” Killua says, and it’s not so much a lie as it is a half-truth. Weirdness with the kiss aside, he is okay. Somehow, he didn’t blow up their friendship. He knows that they’re okay, because Gon’s still here.
He just doesn’t know what that means. Doesn’t know what he wants. Because Gon has pursued self-reflection in their time apart as relentlessly as Killua has avoided it, and now that they’re here, he has no fucking clue what to do.
Gon looks at him carefully. Killua looks back and wonders what he sees.
Finally, Gon smiles. “Great,” he says, nudging Killua’s shoulder. “Hey, can I try your ice cream?”
Killua sighs. Gon is no help here, as per usual. He hands over the ice cream anyway, because he’s probably being unfair—as much as it seems like he can sometimes, Gon was right—he can’t actually read Killua’s mind.
Gon’s hands are sticky. It should be gross. It isn’t.
Dammit.
***
It rains the first day of the festival—hard enough that it’s not safe to go out on the water. And the next day. And, much to Alluka and Nanika and Gon’s dismay, the next.
“Man,” Alluka says, looking out the window. She purses her lips, drums her fingers on the sill. “This sucks.”
“I’m sorry,” Killua says. He joins her in the seat next to the window and glares at the sky, as if that would be enough to stop the downpour.
She just sighs and pats his knee.
“’S okay, Brother,” Nanika says. “Not your fault.”
Killua knows it’s not, but for some reason, he can’t shake the feeling that he could’ve prevented all this. He doesn’t know how, but he should’ve been able to predict this.
Three days until they have to go back. Seventy-two hours.
Outside, the rain falls. Killua wonders if the whales are doing alright.
***
On the fourth day, Killua wakes up feeling oddly rested.
As he does with most things that go right in his life, he frowns. Waves of unease lap at the walls of his chest—not overwhelming, but still odd. Manageable.
He hadn’t dreamed of anything.
***
The fifth day arrives, and the rain lets up enough for them to safely visit the cliffs.
“Where are they?” Alluka says. She cranes her neck over Killua’s shoulder. They’re not super close to the edge, but to avoid the crowd they came to a smaller set of cliffs, farther away from town and narrower than the more popular spots.
“Oi,” Killua says. “Be careful.”
“Gon’s close to the edge,” Nanika points out.
Gon is indeed standing right at the edge of the cliff, green jacket wrapped around his shoulders. His arms aren’t in the sleeves, so they flap in the wind, trailing behind him like wings. He stands, back straight, facing the sea. His hands are on his hips.
Killua swallows. “He’s fine.”
“Do you see them, Gon?” Alluka calls.
“Yeah!” Gon says. “But they’re kind of far away—I think they’re heading towards the inlet.”
“Where, where?” Nanika steps a little closer. Alluka fully commits to testing Killua’s sanity and steps them around him.
Killua sighs. Well, if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.
“There!” Gon says, pointing. Alluka gasps as Killua makes his way past her, scanning the ground for any slippery rocks.
“Where—?”
The wind dies. Killua looks up, then out. That’s when they hear it.
Singing.
It’s somehow exactly what Killua imagined whale songs would sound like and somehow something entirely different. Drawn out and pitched low, then high, as if in mourning or in joy; ringing across the cliffs and echoing back out to sea. Each cry clear, like a bell.
The first voice is joined by a second, and then a third, and a fourth, and then too many to count—all overlapping one another like notes in a chord.
Killua’s seen and heard and lived a lot of things in his travels, but man. This—this is holy.
He closes his eyes, sways, and listens.
In the darkness, on instinct alone, he thinks: Gon would really like this.
Ah.
Slowly, he opens his eyes.
Huh. It really is that simple, isn’t it?
In all the whirlwind of the past few weeks—in all the whirlwind involving Gon, he had forgotten a simple truth.
He turns to say something, but the words die in his throat; Gon is already looking at him, waiting. Smiling.
“I wonder what they’re saying,” Gon says.
Nanika looks between them. She blinks, and Alluka’s looking out to sea.
“Beats me,” Alluka sighs. “But it’s beautiful.”
***
“Gon.”
They sit watching the sunset, their feet dangling over the cliff’s edge. The girls had wanted to go out on the water with the last tourist group before the festival in the town square tonight, and who was Killua to deny her? (Also, he can very clearly see the boat from here—a blue and white button on the ocean. If it so much as dips, he’ll be there.)
Gon looks at him, a question in his eyes.
Killua takes a breath. “I’ve loved you since we were twelve. I love you still.”
Gon goes very, very still.
Killua looks out at the sky. All those colors. The whales aren’t singing anymore. Perhaps the girls had just wanted to give them some privacy, now that he thinks about it. They’ve always been so sweet; he loves them so much it hurts.
Gon is still quiet, and Killua takes the offered invitation to continue. “I don’t think I was fully prepared when I invited you here.” He should’ve been, but then again—is there really any amount of preparation that would’ve been enough?
He sees movement out of the corner of his eye—Gon tilts his head. “Prepared…for what?”
“For you.” Killua kicks his sneakers out over open air. “Gon, you terrified me,” he admits. “Since the day we met, you’ve scared the shit out of me. I mean, I was an assassin. I killed people. And you…you didn’t care. I was so scared you were gonna leave once you realized what I really was, but you knew the whole time. And that was fucking terrifying. But then…”
Gon waits, holding himself still again.
Killua swallows. “Then you did leave. But it wasn’t because of me.” He tries to put it into words, the clarity that years of hindsight have given him. “And I think that was the scariest part—that you could leave, and it would have nothing to do with me. Because that meant there was nothing I could do to make you stay.” He looks out at the ocean, the boat where his sisters are. “No one had ever had that much power over me—except for Illumi, maybe, but that wasn’t by choice. I’d chosen you. And it scared me.”
Gon is silent again. Thinking. Killua can see the gears turning; his eyes fixed somewhere. He sees the moment it clicks. He says, soft, “And now?”
Killua shakes his head. “You’ve changed.” Pauses, then gestures towards the boat below. “So have I.” When he smiles, it is small, warm. “But you don’t scare me anymore. This.” He gestures between the two of them. “This scares me. And I guess…I was so scared of losing you again, I’d forgotten how much fun it is to be with you. How easy. It’s stupid, but…” He thinks. “After last week, when we…”
He feels his face warm. Oh God, okay. Here goes. “When everything was still okay after we kissed, and you acted like everything was normal…I dunno. It felt…” He clears his throat. “It felt confusing, but also really good? Like nothing had to really change, I guess. We could just be us plus kissing.” He winces. “Sorry, I have no idea how this kinda stuff works. Really, properly works.”
He reaches for Gon’s hand. “Which I guess makes sense, given how royally fucked my family is—” Gon snorts, and Killua smiles “—But it’s also kinda dumb. You’re still Gon. And I’m still…” In love with you. “I’m still me. So…”
Killua’s shaking so badly he’s surprised the cliff hasn’t crumbled beneath them into the sea. “So I guess what I’m trying to say is: I’ve figured out what I want. It’s like you said. I just want you. So, uh.” He looks up at Gon, makes himself look at him. “Do you still want the same thing you said on the beach? Will you…will you stay?”
Gon stares at their joined hands, then at Killua. He opens his mouth, and when his voice comes, it’s something Killua has never heard before. “I…”
He’s…is he crying?
“Yes,” Gon says. He breathes out the word like a prayer. “Killua, yes.”
Killua stares at him. Yes. He’s.
Oh.
“These, um.” Gon’s hand is shaking. “These past few years have been about giving you space. Giving us space. I know you needed it, and I probably did, too. But…” Oh fuck, he is crying. Heat pricks at Killua’s eyes, and his nose starts to itch.
Gon sniffles. “But Killua, I’ve missed you so much. I hope that’s okay.”
Killua stares at him. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
Gon squares his shoulders. Looks Killua in the eye. “I hurt you,” he says. Quiet, a statement of fact.
“Yes,” Killua says. Also quiet, also an admission. It no longer costs either of them so much to hear it. “A long time ago. I forgave you a long time ago, too. For a while, though, I think I just wasn’t ready to see you.”
Because maybe they’d both needed to do little growing up to meet again. And yeah, maybe they could’ve done it differently, done it a little better, done it in a way that hurt less. But maybe there had been no other choice but to move on, lest they both turn to stone. Maybe both could be true—the necessity and the hurt.
But.
“But I’m sorry for not calling,” Killua says softly. He traces his thumb along Gon’s hand. “It’s just taken me a second to realize that us…becoming different people, I guess? That it wasn’t a bad thing. So thank you. For meeting me here when I called, and for giving me a chance, too.”
And different people they have become—and yet. And yet he still loves him. How strange and wonderful is that?
“I—I didn’t.” Gon’s voice finally breaks, tumbling off the edge.
He has snot running down his face, and his nose is all scrunched up. He takes two wet, gargling breaths, and Killua thinks it’s the most endearing thing he’s ever seen in his life.
After a few gasps, Gon reels it back with visible effort. It takes two rushes of sea water against the rocks below for him to gather himself. “I didn’t think I had the right to miss you,” he finally whispers.
Killua’s heart breaks with the next wave. “Gon…”
What does he even say to that? How does he convince Gon how wrong he is? Because Killua knows better than anyone what it’s like to feel unworthy. He knows the size and shape of that void, how it wraps its tendrils around the heart and squeezes.
He thinks of his sisters, their patience with and care of him. Of Ikalgo, of Leorio, Palm, Bisky. Of how they send him texts on his birthday and how they meet up every few months to grab dinner or lunch or even just a dessert, because they all know how much he and Alluka and Nanika love dessert. How they are always happy to see them, even despite the minor inconveniences that come with rearranging schedules and the occasional missed train or flight.
He thinks of how there will be no more needles, not for the rest of his life.
“It’s not something you earn,” Killua says. Perhaps he was wrong—all these years, he hasn’t avoided looking inward at all. He’s looked out, perhaps for the first time, at the people around him, the people who love him.
This, then, is what they’ve taught him.
“I love you,” Killua says. “And there isn’t anything you can do to convince me otherwise.”
He waits while Gon processes this. Watches how he stills, shoulders slowly withdrawing from his ears. He looks up at Killua, eyes bright as if he were facing the sunrise.
After a moment, Gon finally speaks. “I love you, too,” he says, and despite the tears, the quaver to his voice, his hands are finally steady. “And…I just. I need you to know. Even if you had never forgiven me…” His hand tightens. “After what I did, that was your right.”
Killua squeezes his hand back and tries to breathe.
Gon loves him. Oh, fuck. He loves him back. “Can’t get rid of me that easily, Freeccs,” he says weakly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Gon laughs—a gasping, joyous sound. “Please don’t,” he says. “Don’t go anywhere, that is.”
He loves him back, and they both want to stay. Miracle of fucking miracles.
Killua barks out a wet laugh, the relief so palpable it aches. “I won’t,” he says. "I promise.”
With Gon’s eyes on him, he slowly detaches their hands, then holds up his pinky finger.
On sealed with a kiss, Killua is the one who moves first. Gon meets him halfway.
He tastes like salt and sea air. His lips are chapped. His hair on the back of his neck is short and bristly between Killua’s fingertips, and he’s grinning so wide that Killua can feel his teeth.
They break apart.
“I love you,” Gon says again, the words more sigh than sound. He has the dopiest grin on his face that Killua is going to remember for the rest of his life.
***
(In the dream-that-is-not-a-dream, two boys stand on a cliff. One faces the land; the other, the sea. For the first time in living memory, they also face each other.
One boy holds out a hand. The other takes it, smiling.)
***
On their way down to meet the girls, Killua remembers—what he’d meant to say, what he’d realized when the whales had sung their way home. What he’s felt all this time.
“Gon?”
Gon pauses. Turns.
Killua grins and presses their hands to his lips. “I missed you, too. So, so much. Like, it’s really stupid how much.”
Gon just laughs, the joy in his voice ringing across the cliffs. Out to sea.
***
On the final night of the festival, the three of them walk through the stalls of the town square. Warm light bathes the early evening, and a breeze makes the crowd feel cozy instead of claustrophobic.
Gon’s hand is slightly sweaty in Killua’s right hand, and Alluka and Nanika’s are slightly dry in Killua’s left.
“Aunt Mito would love this,” Gon says at a stall that sells little glass whales. He peers closer—the seller has all kinds of glass sea creatures—stingrays, dolphins, starfish. She has streaks of gray in her hair and laughter lines around her eyes that crinkle when she winks at Killua.
“Pick one out,” Killua says, already opening his wallet.
“No, I’ll pay for it,” Gon insists. He picks up one of the animals and examines it—a little blue whale. “I’m going to visit her after this anyway.”
Killua tries to keep his voice nonchalant. “So am I,” he says.
Gon freezes, and beside him, Alluka smiles.
“What…what’re you saying?” Gon asks. He’s still holding the whale in his hand.
Killua clears his throat. “If it’s, uh. Okay with you Aunt Mito and Abe. And you, of course,” he says. This sounded a lot less lame in his head when he was rehearsing this morning. He’s pretty sure either Nanika or Alluka heard him practicing in front of the mirror while Gon was out buying lunch, based on the thumbs up they flash him behind Gon’s back, but whatever. “It’s been a long time, so I’d like to go with you. Pay a visit.” He looks at his shoes. “If that’s okay?”
Silence. Killua’s heart feels like it’s going to leap out of his chest. How is this still so mortifying?
“Of course it’s okay,” Gon says, rushing forward and tackling him in a hug. The relief Killua feels is just as physical. “Oh, Killua.” He holds both sides of Killua’s face in his hands and kisses him, warm flash of lips on both cheeks. “Yes, of course. We would love to have you.” He looks at the girls. “And you guys should come too!”
Killua doesn’t think he’s ever seen them look so delighted, the look on both their faces rivaled only by, perhaps, the first time they’d ever tried ice cream. “After finals,” Alluka says, that gleam in her eye.
Nanika nods. “We didn’t forget our promise. He’s all yours.”
“Ah,” Gon says, nodding. “Well, I’m honored—I’ll take good care of him, I promise. And you both are welcome to visit anytime.”
“Wait,” Killua says. Alluka is nodding—what the hell is happening? “What promise?”
“We made a deal at the World Tree, remember?” Alluka says. “We got to steal you for a little bit—”
“—And now we’re releasing you,” Nanika finishes. She makes a little flourish with her hands. “Be free.”
“What am I, a fish?” Killua mutters.
Someone clears their throat, and the four of them startle—the woman at the booth is still smiling at them, but it’s a bit gentler than before. “Excuse me,” she says. “This is lovely, but there seems to be a queue forming. Have you made your decision yet?”
Killua looks at Gon, still clutching the glass whale. It’s beautiful—swirling dark blue on its belly and little black raindrops for eyes. It seems to glow in the palm of Gon’s hand, the light of the lanterns shining through the glass as light shines through water.
Golden.
Gon nods.
“Yes,” Killua says. He points at the whale in Gon’s hand. “This one, please.”
The woman smiles. “Excellent choice.”
Killua agrees. It is, he knows, the last in a long line of choices that have led them all here, and the first that begins the rest of their lives.
“I love it,” Gon says. Alluka nods in agreement, and so does Nanika.
Killua feels so warm. He doesn’t believe he’s ever felt warmer in his life.
He smiles. “Then let’s bring it home, shall we?”