Chapter Text
You dreamed of me?
No, I thought of you.
***
Gon—how have you been? Alluka has spring break next month and she and Nanika have been pestering me about a vacation. I know you’ll be in the area—want to meet up?
***
The first thing Killua notices, after they break apart, is how deep Gon’s voice is. The second is how broad his shoulders are, and the third, finally—Killua’s taller than him now.
Around them, the sounds of the airport terminal return—Alluka stands a little off to the side, her hand to her cheek.
“Hi,” Gon says, the first to break the silence. He’s smiling, his hands warm weights on Killua’s shoulders. He has, rather impossibly, even more freckles dotting the bridge of his nose. “I missed you.”
“Hi,” Killua chokes out. His own hands rest in the bend of Gon’s elbows—despite the green leather of Gon’s jacket between them, he can feel warmth under his palms. “Hi, Gon.” He’s smiling, too. “How’ve you been?”
***
Killua dumps the suitcases—all four of them—in front of the unlit fireplace of their little beach cottage.
“Wow!” Gon says, not an ounce of judgment in his voice.
“Half of it is the girls’ stuff,” Killua defends anyway.
“That is such a lie,” Alluka says, still scoping out the kitchen. Killua can hear the eye roll from here.
“Whatever,” Killua says, but he catches Gon’s eye and grins. He will not be shamed for having a sense of fashion, thank you very much—a fact that everyone here knows quite well. He needs variety, unlike Gon, who seems to have graduated from the one outfit he wore when he was twelve to the one outfit he wears now at nineteen. Green leather is…a surprisingly good look on him, paired with the faded cargo pants.
Killua rips his eyes away from how the jacket sits on his shoulders and clears his throat. “Anyway. Let’s just get unpacked. I’ll take the couch, since apparently I’m the one with all the baggage.”
“Uh-huh,” Alluka snorts. Okay, yeah, he walked into that one.
“Killua,” Gon says, and hell, even if his voice has deepened, there’s still that same whine to it. “The couch is uncomfortable—I’ll take it.”
Alluka returns from the kitchen, sweeping her bangs out of her face. Due for a haircut soon. “Gon, don’t be ridiculous,” she says, not unkindly. “Let him take the couch, or we’ll be here all day.”
Gon, true to form, continues to be ridiculous. “I’m serious,” he says. “I really don’t mind—I’ve been sleeping in the back of Kite’s truck the past year; this’ll be an upgrade.”
“Gon,” Killua begins, and it occurs to him that the shape of his voice is one he hasn’t made since Greed Island. Exasperated and fond, not so much facing Gon’s stubbornness as he is curving around it. Not giving in—not yet. “You know that I can sleep anywhere, right?” Like suspended from my family’s dungeon in chains he doesn’t say—somehow, he knows that’s not going to earn him any brownie points.
“Yeah, of course I know,” Gon says with a frown. It’s strange—he’s standing kind of…still. Like he’s holding back from saying something, too. Perhaps it had been kind of a silly question; of course Gon knows that.
Oh.
The realization dawns slowly, more a thought that spreads than strikes. He can’t read Gon right now—has no idea why he’s hesitating. The room suddenly feels very cold, as if the screen door were still open, chilly spring wind draining the warmth from Killua’s hands.
The last time he couldn’t recognize Gon—well.
Alluka pads over to prod at the cushions. “Well, I suppose I could always—”
“No,” they say in unison. This, at least, they can agree on.
The moment breaks, and Gon smiles, slowly. His face is more filled out now, his jaw squarer, but it’s him—it’s him. The realization finally sinks in, after the hour car ride from the airport with Gon in the backseat, the dust from his last mission with Kite still in his hair: five years and his best friend is standing here in front of him, smiling like no time has passed at all.
Warmth returns instantly, suspiciously fast. Shit.
Gon holds out his hand. He has several new freckles splashed on the inside of his wrist, and a scar Killua doesn’t recognize across his knuckles.
“Rock, paper, scissors?” he asks.
Gon somehow wins, because of course he does. He used paper, Killua rock, and with a cheer he flings himself onto the sofa, launching the too-brightly-colored throw pillows to the floor. “Oh, it’s cozy,” he says, grinning up at them. “You should be jealous.”
Killua rolls his eyes; Alluka giggles. “C’mon,” he says, hefting his bag. They all graciously pretend that he isn’t smiling, and for once Killua is glad that Nanika is asleep—she’d definitely point it out.
The house is small but cozy—just behind the couch is the kitchen, and just past the couch lies a little hallway with three doors—two bedrooms and a bathroom between them. The walls of the house are all the same seashell gray as the smooth stones of the beach just a few hundred steps away; there’s even a little balcony down the hallway with a gravel path to the water.
After Killua drops his stuff off at his room—the one closer to the backdoor (this way the girls’ room is sandwiched between him and Gon, not that he’s expecting any home invasions)—he steps out onto the balcony to survey their small backyard. Like the rest of the plant life, it still seems to be recovering from winter. The grass is pretty much dead, but there’s a garden sleeping just behind the wooden fence, barely high enough to be called a fence. The air is cold and bracing; it feels good on his face. He can hear the waves on the shore, regular as breathing.
Not for the first time, he wonders if this had been a good idea. Texting Gon. After the World Tree, they’d kept in touch sparingly, a text every few months. Birthdays and selfies every now and then. The last they’d seen each other was at Leorio’s graduation party, but even then, there hadn’t been much time—he and Alluka had an airship to catch early the next morning; Gon could only stay the evening because of Hunter stuff with Kite. They had hugged, and joked, and elbowed one another, but it had felt like acting out the past, not starting something new. There had been no time.
Well. Now there was time, apparently. More time than Killua could’ve hoped for, and yet.
“Two weeks,” says a voice, and Killua turns.
Gon comes to stand next to him, rubbing his hands together. Killua frowns—since when does Gon get cold? “It’s not much time,” he says, putting his hands in his pockets.
This kid. Always able to read his mind, even now.
Killua scoffs out of habit, looks down at his sneakers. “Yeah, well,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Blame it on the fancy school Alluka was smart enough to get into.”
“She’s growing up well,” Gon says. An agreement. “She’s even prettier than when I last saw her.”
Killua’s neck shoots up so fast he’s surprised it doesn’t snap off his shoulders. “Oi. What the hell does that mean?”
Gon just laughs, that same carefree thing in his voice that Killua remembers. “I’m just saying you have very reason to be proud of her. Of both of them.”
The emotion swirling in his chest—part protectiveness, part panic, part something else he refuses to identify—simmers down. Gon does not want to date his sister. “Damn right I’m proud,” he says gruffly. “They’re both growing up way faster than they should. She’s already sneaking out at night, and Nanika gives me shit all the time.”
“How does she manage that?” Gon asks, laughing. “The sneaking out part, I mean. You’re very easy to tease, even for someone as sweet as Nanika.”
Killua clears his throat. He ignores the comment about being easy to tease—his sisters and Gon are really the only people who get to do that, and that feels…weird to say out loud. “I, uh. Maybe followed her. Only when it was dangerous.” Which was always, he doesn’t say. He glances at Gon, whose expression is a mix of amused and horrified. “Relax, relax—she totally caught on. Yelled at me right there in the middle of the street—I’m much better about it now.”
And he is, although it pains him to see her go out sometimes—what if something happens? The biggest threat, Illumi, fucked off somewhere to the Dark Continent with his pervert of a clown husband (Killua has no idea why, not that he’s complaining), and his contacts would let him know if the asshole so much as stepped foot back here. But still. There are horrible people out there—and yeah, Alluka can defend herself and Nanika well enough, Killua’s not so overprotective that he won’t teach her as many self-defense moves as humanly possible.
But again. Still doesn’t hurt to be a little cautious.
“Well, you have good reasons to be worried,” Gon says.
Killua blinks. Gon is…agreeing with him?
“But,” he continues—ah, there it is, “I’m glad you two figured it out.” He looks out, towards where the sound of the waves echoes up the shore. He leans on the railing, jacket snug around his shoulders. “It must be hard. I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like for Aunt Mito, that first time. Even now, it’s probably really hard for her, to see me go.”
Killua…doesn’t know what to say to that. Yes, Gon has always been honest to a fault, but there’s a depth to this kind of honesty; the words don’t sound like they mean everything he’s saying. For the second time today, Killua feels off-balance—he had been prepared for cheerful Gon, excited Gon, but this—Gon not saying everything—this is new.
It must be hard for you, too goes unsaid, but they both hear it.
“Yeah,” Killua finally says. He wonders if the space between them—about a foot of cold air, has widened. It seems he has some adjusting to do—to this new Gon.
Gon turns to look at him, his eyes crinkled as he smiles. “I like your hair,” he says, apropos of nothing. He makes a little twirling motion with his finger near his ear. “It looks good. You look good.”
That is…huh. Killua goes to touch the blue hair tie that Nanika made for him last summer. It’s one of several—he keeps pretending to lose them so she’ll make more. His hair nearly touches his shoulders now—he had meant to cut it along with Alluka’s, because sometimes it gets in the way when he cooks.
His ears burn, and he is very glad for his beanie. “Thanks,” he mumbles. He glances down at Gon’s own hair—it’s shorter now, still spiked, but more the length that Ging’s was, from what he can remember. His jacket, now that he looks closer, looks faded and worn, a dull luster that comes with frequent wear and tear. How long has he had it? “I, uh. Like your jacket.”
“Aw, really?” Gon straightens up, grinning. He bumps Killua’s shoulder with his own. “Thanks, Killua! You wanna wear it sometime?” He doesn’t say anything else—instead, he raises an eyebrow, as if daring Killua to say yes.
Is…is he flirting?
Fuck, Killua’s definitely blushing now, his beanie doing absolutely nothing to hide the flush on his cheeks. He turns quickly to the door to head back inside. “As if. Too big for me, probably.” And, well, shit, now that just sounds like he’s been ogling Gon’s shoulders, which, to be fair, he has. But still.
“Okeedoke,” Gon chirps. “Just say the word. I think you’d look great in it.”
His eyes are wide and earnest, and Killua relaxes. He’s not flirting. He’s just Gon.
Killua shakes his head. “Yeah, yeah.” Just needs to adjust to Gon’s…everything, is all. It’s been a long time. Nothing weird going on here. “Let’s go get the girls and find something eat. I’m starving.” It’s an obvious subject change, but Gon nods, and relief floods Killua.
What is happening?
As he passes by the mirror in the hallway, he tugs at the end of his little ponytail. Maybe he’ll keep his hair long. Just to try it.
***
They find a noodle shop just down the road.
The town is quaint and touristy, with colorful buildings and a warmth that permeates despite the chill of early spring. The streets near the beach are lined with shops and green lamps that glow warm light on the cobbled sidewalks. Their rented house is only a few minutes’ walk from the lively town square, which, judging from the covered stalls whose tarps flap in the fading evening light, is a farmer’s market.
The place kind of reminds Killua of the Greed Island towns—minus the death game, of course. In a strange moment of sense memory, when Gon holds open the door for him to the noodle shop, he finds himself thinking Book.
But the sensation fades; they cross the threshold, which is busy with the evening dinner rush, and a hostess shows them to their booth. Out of habit, Killua sits across from Alluka. Gon, perhaps also out of habit, sits next to her across from Killua, looking around with a broad smile.
“This place is so cute,” he says. He glances at a menu. “Dessert section looks good, too.”
He’s right—they have three kinds of chocolate cake.
“So,” Killua says, once they’ve ordered—he got a spicy soup, because it’s chilly outside. “What did you find online, Alluka?”
Alluka nods. “Well, there’s that festival I was telling you about, but it doesn’t start till next week. Whatever y’all wanna do until then sounds good to me.” She takes a sip from her water. “There’s an aquarium and a ferry ride that looked fun.”
“Hmm…” Killua checks the weather on his phone—tomorrow will be sunny, and the day after that there’s a slight chance of rain. “Maybe ferry ride tomorrow.”
“What’s this about a festival?” Gon asks.
Alluka shows him her phone. “This town is famous for their whale watching festival.” Gon’s eyes get big and wide. “It’s five days, and on the last day there’s a gathering near the water.”
“Wow,” Gon breathes. “These pictures look amazing—are those cliffs?”
“Yep,” says a voice, and they turn to see their waitress. She puts three bowls down in front of them. The food smells heavenly. “You guys here for Homecoming?”
“Homecoming?” Killua says, already blowing on his spoon.
The waitress, a young woman with short, dark hair and a beauty mark in the shape of a…maybe a duck? near her temple, smiles. “Happens every year—the whales in the area all come back to the area to spend the spring and summer here.” She refills each of their glasses. “It’s the busiest time of year for us, so if you want a boat, you’d better rent one soon. Or you could watch from the cliffs that you see on your phone there—they’re just outside town. Don’t need to rent anything to watch from there.”
Gon slurps his noodles. Killua has no idea how someone can chew and talk while still sounding charming, but he’s somehow doing it. “Can you see them from that far away, though?”
The woman smiles. “It’s not so much about seeing them as it is hearing them,” she says. “Trust me. On the water or on the cliffs, I guarantee it’ll be worth your time.” She finishes topping off their water. “Enjoy your food.”
“Well,” Killua concludes, once she’s walked away. “Whale watching it is, then.”
“I just left Whale Island, too,” Gon says brightly. “What a coincidence!”
Killua coughs. “Yeah, totally.” He ignores the look that Alluka shoots him. Thankfully, Gon doesn’t see it, head in his bowl.
It’s not that he invited Gon specifically because the whale thing reminded him of Whale Island, but the association hadn’t slipped his mind, either. He shoots a look back at Alluka, one that says just because I’m an idiot doesn’t mean you have to point it out.
She smiles at him, a little fond, a little exasperated, which is somehow worse than if she had teased him.
Killua drinks his soup.
***
The next morning, they go to the harbor for the ferry tickets.
It’s almost as big as the town itself, the docks stretching out like fingers from the rocky shoreline. There are boats of all shapes and sizes docked—the largest big enough to cast a shadow all the way to the end of the street, and the smallest a fishing dinghy.
“There!” Alluka says, pointing at the booth.
“I can get them,” Gon offers, his wallet already out.
“Very funny,” Killua says. He starts walking. “You paid for dinner last night—” a very sore point on Killua’s part; he doesn’t know how Gon had snuck past him “—so this one’s on me.”
“You were the one who invited me,” Gon insists, matching Killua’s stride without missing a beat, because of course he does. “It’s only fair.”
“How is that fair? You can’t use that excuse for everything. Besides, this is Hunter job money anyway.”
“So’s mine,” Gon says, still smiling. It’s distracting—why is he smiling when they’re clearly arguing?
Killua is smiling too. Fuck.
“Okay then,” Killua sniffs. They’re almost at the booth. “How’s this—I pay for today, you pay for the next thing. Deal?”
“As long as I get to pay for Alluka and Nanika, too,” Gon says.
“Absolutely not. They’re my sisters.”
“And you’re my friend,” Gon says, and whatever comeback Killua had gets stuck in his throat.
“You—”
The woman at the booth clears her throat. “Excuse me,” she says, very politely. “But will you two be purchasing tickets today?”
“Yes,” Killua says. He shoves his card under the glass a little too quickly, but whatever.
She looks at the card, then at Killua. Then at Gon. Her eyes shift behind them both to Alluka a few yards back, no doubt laughing her ass off, based on the giggles she’s failing to stifle.
“Boys, don’t take too long!” Alluka calls in falsetto, and for a moment she sounds so much like their mother that Killua shudders.
“Okay,” the ticket lady says slowly, seeming to come to a decision.
She hands them two child tickets and one adult ticket.
Killua’s ears burn beneath his baseball cap. “Thank you,” he mumbles to the lady, then hightails it the hell out of there, towards the boats.
“What’s wrong?” Gon says, peering over his shoulder. Alluka comes to join them.
Without saying a word, Killua hands him the tickets. He knows he has a bit of a baby face, especially standing next to Gon, whose jawline is…very pronounced. But still. “Just…let’s get on the boat,” he says.
Gon laughs so hard Killua’s afraid that he’ll fall in the harbor.
Killua can’t even bring himself to be mad about it. Gon’s laughter has always been—is still—his favorite sound in the world.
“I still can’t believe,” Gon says, once they’re standing on the railing of the boat.
“Shut up,” Killua says. "She thought you were a kid, too."
"That's because I'm eternally young," Gon says, batting his eyelashes.
“To be fair, Brother,” Alluka says. She’s wearing her sunhat and sunglasses, every bit a young woman on vacation. No wonder the lady had thought she was an adult. “Even though you’re taller, you still have…a youthful look about you.”
This is unfair. Killua groans and folds himself as far over the railing as is safe, his head on his arms. “I’m nineteen.”
“Brother looks like a baby,” Nanika supplies helpfully.
“Nanika!” Gon says. They haven’t spoken since the car ride—Nanika had gotten a bit sleepy after all that time awake. She and Alluka have gotten better about having a schedule for who’s up and who’s not, but sometimes, on days like this, they’ll take turns. Gon’s taken to it like a duck to water, as unfaltering as ever in his acceptance of others.
It makes Killua feel warm, like he’s been lit up from the inside.
“Oi,” Killua says, still staring out at the blue depths of the ocean. Maybe if he falls in, they’ll let him drown. “Just because no one in our family grows facial hair until they’re a hundred doesn’t mean I look like a baby.”
“I don’t think you look like a baby, Killua,” Gon says. Killua looks up warily—he knows that tone. Gon is about to say something ridiculous. “I think it’s because your hair’s so long, and your face is really pretty. It makes you look younger than you actually are.”
“Hmm,” Alluka says.
“Wow,” Nanika agrees.
Yep. The ocean it is for Killua. “I am not—” he buries his face back in his arms, groans. “You know what, never mind.”
Gon just laughs.
They’re on the open water now, and the salty wind feels good on Killua’s heated face. The boat is fairly large, enough for two decks, and the other passengers—a few humanoid, a few not—bustle around and behind them.
“I’m going to go look around,” Alluka says wryly. Clearly giving them space. Oh, he’s gonna hear it from her later.
“Be careful,” Killua says automatically, and he ignores the eyeroll she most certainly gives him.
But despite the sass—“I will,” she says as she leaves, because they’ve both lived with Killua’s overprotective tendencies for years now, and eyeroll aside, this is the compromise.
Her footsteps fade, leaving only the sound of the wind.
Killua chances another look at Gon; he’s still standing next to him, his own arms folded over the railing. He’s looking out to sea, the wind in his hair.
He doesn't know how the woman had mistaken Gon for a kid—this morning, Killua had found his razor by the sink, and had to take one minute and twenty seconds to process the fact that Gon probably gets the same scratchy stubble as Ging.
How would Gon’s face feel after a full week of not shaving? Perhaps like sandpaper, although neither Killua nor Alluka shave, so Killua has no point of reference. He hadn’t been kidding about the Zoldycks not growing facial hair—he’s honestly convinced that Gramps somehow uses Nen. Maybe he’d ask Gon about it—surely after all they’ve been through together it wouldn’t be too weird. Right? After all…
Killua straightens up again, joining Gon’s silent consideration of the sea. It’s not like he can ask his dad or Illumi about this kind of stuff. The past few years have been a joy, yes, to raise his little sisters as best he can, but sometimes he wonders if he ever missed out on raising himself. Not that he had much of a childhood to begin with.
He chances a glance at Gon and finds that he’s already looking at him. He wills the heat in his cheeks to back down.
“What’s up?” he asks. Always best to just go for the direct approach with Gon.
“Nothing,” Gon says, his hand in his palm. Despite the relaxed slope to his shoulders, his eyes are focused. “Just thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
He gets a little kick for that, dodges it without missing a beat. Oh, how he’s missed this—their back-and-forth, the banter. Despite the years between them, it’s good to be back at Gon’s side again.
“I was just wondering what Kite and the gang were doing,” Gon says. “Right now they’re on a hunt for a new species of rabbit in the Mimbo Republic. Kite texted; they say hi.”
“Hi back,” Killua says, smiling. “You’ve been with their team for…what, two years now, right?” He’d gotten the newsletters, although he’s long since stopped watching his inbox for them. That had been…a bittersweet day, when he realized that.
Gon nods. “Two and half. It’s been great. Whale Island is always home, but…I missed it.”
Killua swallows, his smile fading. He looks back out to sea. “And…your Nen?”
“Nope,” Gon says, popping the P. “Still don’t have it back yet.”
“Yet,” Killua points out.
Gon smiles, close-lipped. “Mm-hm.”
That’s…interesting. Gon kicks his foot through the slats in the railing, over water, over wood. He doesn’t offer anything else—does he not want Killua to know? Waiting for Killua to ask? It’s so strange—he doesn’t seem too concerned about it. Doesn’t seem concerned about it at all.
“Huh,” Killua says, for lack of anything better to say. “Are you…do you…?”
The foghorn blares, and Killua nearly jumps out of his skin.
“All passengers, if you would like, we’re passing by Lover’s Leap just over here on the right, one of our local landmarks,” says a voice over the loudspeaker. It sounds oddly familiar—and oh, that’s definitely the woman who sold them their tickets. “See that white line running down the side of the cliff face? Legend has it that long ago, two lovers would meet where it touched the land and sea, in secret.”
Gon listens intently, his head turned away to look at whatever the lady just pointed out. Conversation over, apparently.
Killua won’t lie—it stings, a little.
“One lover was from the sea, and the other from the land,” continues the voice. “They couldn’t be together, so they both vowed to meet each other on their own terrain. However, they made their plans without telling each other; one of them cast themself over into the rushing waters below, while the other climbed the cliffs. When the second lover arrived at the top of the cliff and did not find the first, they vowed to wait until their beloved returned. People say that they waited so long that they turned to stone—that little outcropping you see at the top of the cliff there.”
“It does kinda look like a person,” Gon murmurs, squinting against the midday sun. He raises his hand to his face, his eyes shadowed.
Killua lets out a breath. Yeah, it’s…the Nen stuff is none of his business. He turns and tries to find whatever it is the announcer is pointing out…there.
Huh. Gon’s right—it kinda does look like a person, although only vaguely. The little pillar of rock stands just near the cliff’s edge, and there’s a small indentation in its middle that gives the impression of a waist.
“I think they’re looking out at the water,” Gon says, still squinting.
“Really?” Killua says. He tries to look for anything that might suggest a face and finds nothing. “How do you figure that?”
Gon lowers his hand and hums thoughtfully. “They wouldn’t stand so close to the sea if they weren’t looking at it, right?”
Killua considers this. “But the lady said that they came to land to look for their lover. So wouldn’t they be facing the land, away from the sea?”
“Maybe they already knew,” Gon says, voice thoughtful.
“Knew what?”
Gon shrugs. “Knew that their lover had already jumped. But they still decided to keep climbing anyway.”
“Why the hell would they do that?” Killua says. “They should’ve jumped right back in once they’d realized.”
“I dunno,” Gon says, grinning. “Maybe we’ve decided to remember the wrong part of the story. Maybe they should call it Lover’s Climb.”
Killua snorts. “You’re ridiculous,” he says, and Gon just laughs again, bright and warm and a little sad.
It’s fine. They can talk about…the Nen thing later, or not talk about it at all. Maybe there’s nothing to really even talk about.
Killua’s fine with it. Really.
***
“I wonder what happened to the lover who jumped,” Alluka muses on the way back to the house.
“Prolly drowned,” Killua says. The sea is a calm grey today—low tide.
“That’s kinda sad,” Nanika says.
Gon just looks thoughtful.
***
Alluka corners him while Gon is at the supermarket to pick up the items on their agreed-upon grocery list for the week. He realizes, belatedly, that her request for him to help her wash the dishes had been a trap.
Well, she is still a Zoldyck.
“Brother,” she begins, rolling up her sleeves for the dishes. She hands him the first plate for rinsing.
“Sister,” he says, taking it from her. He already knows where this is going, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.
“You still like him,” she says, almost gently, which is. Bad. Gentle is bad, because that means she knows this trip had been a test, and that he had failed the moment he and Gon had locked eyes at the airport.
Not even a good-natured rib about how he’d stared more at Gon than the cliffs today. Straight to the point—and that’s not Killua’s doing, that’s something she became all on her own. He’s almost proud, if only that honesty wasn’t currently being used at his expense.
“And?” he says, perhaps placing the plate on the drying rack with a little too much force. “I can behave myself, I promise.” Alluka hands him a spoon next.
“That’s not what I’m worried about, and you know it.” Mug next, chipped on the handle.
Another plate. “What do you mean, then?”
She sighs, turns off the water. Gives him a look. “He likes you too,” she says, her voice gentle again.
He lowers his hands. He thinks about how Gon had looked at him at the airport. The way he looks at Killua when he thinks Killua’s not looking. He may have gotten better at hiding his thoughts, but his emotions…
Well, Killua’s always been particularly attuned to Gon when it comes to that.
“Yeah,” he says softly. “I know.”
The look turns to something like exasperation. “Brother, maybe this isn’t—”
“I know,” he says again, some of the desperation leaking into his voice. He takes a breath, tries to scale it back some. He’s had lots of practice with that. “I’ll figure it out, okay? I just don’t want to ruin your vacation, or you or Nanika’s time with him either.” He stares at the silvery bottom of the sink, watches the suds meander down the drain. “I know you’ve missed him, too.”
A moment.
“My vacation is not more important than your happiness,” Alluka says firmly, then turns on the water again.
Killua tenses, preparing for the argument, but Alluka knows him too well, knows now’s not the time to push.
“Just…” she says, handing him a fork. “If you want to talk, I’m here. Nanika, too.”
Slowly, Killua relaxes. He takes the fork and doesn’t say thank you; he doesn’t need to with family, after all. Alluka has always understood. “I will,” he promises.
She’s come a long way since Killua scooped her out of that godforsaken basement—they both have. Gon is right—she is growing up well.
With an approving nod, she hands him a knife, blade down. “Good.”
They wash the remainder of the dishes in companionable silence. Killua will never deserve his sisters, their quiet care of him.
“And,” Alluka says suddenly, sounding thoughtful. “If you ever need me to clear out for an afternoon, just say the word—”
Killua throws the sponge at her.
***
After dinner, they walk on the beach.
Killua supposes he should’ve seen this coming too; Alluka is very clearly giving them space, running ahead to look at tide pools and generally being very considerate.
“I think I’m gonna turn in for the night,” she announces after twenty minutes.
“Sleep well,” Killua says.
“Night, Brother,” Nanika says sleepily. She smiles at Gon. “Good night, Gon.”
“Good night, you two,” Gon says with a return smile that is just as sweet.
They leave with a wave, back to the lighted path that leads back to the house.
And then it’s just him and Gon.
Killua shoves his hands in his pockets and clears his throat. “So,” he says.
Gon looks at him, and it’s an effort for Killua to keep his breath even. It’s new moon, so there’s no light beyond the path Alluka just took, but Killua has never had trouble seeing in the dark.
Neither, Killua remembers, has Gon.
Gon smiles and nods, like Killua’s just said something interesting. He rubs the back of his head, looks around. “So,” he says. “What do you wanna do?”
Killua supposes that Alluka is right. About him and Gon needing to figure it out. If nothing else, he doesn’t want his…dramatics to ruin their vacation.
Heart pounding, he looks around the beach. Is this a conversation he wants to have sitting or standing? He thinks standing, maybe. “Want to walk down a little further?”
They walk parallel to the shore. The beach is rockier here, this far away from the residential areas, stones smoothed out and coated with bits of sand. It reminds Killua of the breaded chicken he’d made for dinner.
“So how is—”
“How have you—?”
They both stop and blink.
“Ah,” Gon says, smiling again. “You first.”
A gentleman—Killua can’t help but smile back. “How are Aunt Mito and Abe?” Mito still sends him chocolate every year on his birthday—he feels bad that he hasn’t visited since that first time to thank her in person.
Gon brightens. “They’re doing well. She and Abe still doing the same stuff on the island. Abe’s getting a little older—” an understatement, Killua has no idea how old that woman really is—“so I’ve been helping out a bit more around the house when I can.”
“Ah,” Killua says. Man, it’s been a while since he’s done this—small talk with Gon is still new. He frowns. “Wait, so you’re living there now? I thought you were with Kite.”
Gon nods. “I go back and forth every few months.” He looks out to sea, as if he could swim all the way back to Whale Island. “It’s been nice. I get to see them more often and still do my Hunter work. Best of both worlds.”
Killua smiles. “I’m sure Mito is happy to have you home more often.”
Gon snorts. “That’s one word for it. She’s always asking me to bring her and Abe stuff, now that she knows I’ll come back.” He shakes his head, turning to smile at Killua. Despite his words, he seems pleased. “It’s a new feeling for her, I think.”
Ah, yes. Well. “That checks out,” Killua says. He can’t imagine what it’s like to have Ging for a cousin.
They stand like that for a moment, side by side, facing the sea. Gon picks up a stone and skips it; twenty skips. Killua does the same; twenty-two.
“Damn,” Gon says, grinning.
Killua huffs, grins back. “Gotta try harder, Freecss.”
They keep walking, and Killua savors the silence—breathes it in with the sea air. He’s missed this—doing nothing with Gon.
Then, the air changes. Gon speaks.
“Earlier today,” he says, and Killua’s heart drops to his feet. “You wanted to ask about my Nen.”
Quiet, thoughtful. Not a trace of accusation or fishing for a reaction; simply a statement of the truth.
Killua swallows, stops walking. “I did.” A pause. “I do.”
At first, Gon doesn’t say anything. Instead, he walks a few meters past Killua, towards a giant rock. Killua has no idea how it got there; perhaps it cracked off the cliffs and rolled all the way here, or perhaps someone moved it.
Gon sits on top of it. Guess they’re going to be sitting down for this, then.
Killua follows him, dusting the sand off the spot next to Gon, and leans back on his hands when he sits. Gon leans forward, and they both face the sea.
“I don’t want it back,” Gon begins. “I gave up too much, and I accept the consequences of my choice.”
Killua tries to breathe around the thing in his throat. “Okay,” he says. Okay. They’re really doing this, then. “You…accept that you don’t have your Nen anymore,” he says, confirming.
Gon nods.
“But… ‘yet.’ On the ferry today, you said that you didn’t have your Nen back yet.”
Gon looks a little guilty. “I’m sorry for not giving you an answer right away,” he says. “I wanted to wait until we were alone to have this conversation.”
“Okay,” Killua says again, slowly. “We’re having it now. What’s…what’s up with your Nen?”
Gon shrugs. “I just haven’t looked,” he says with a wry smile.
“You…haven’t even looked? Like, at all?”
“Nope.”
Killua blinks at him once, twice. “Why?” he asks, and it’s almost funny, how confused he sounds.
Gon sounds just as confused, like this is something Killua should grasp. “Because I don’t deserve to. I gave it away. Condition and covenant.”
“Yeah, I know how it works,” Killua says, unable to keep the snippiness out of his voice. He picks at a faint line in the rock with his fingernail—he doesn’t make his hands claws anymore, but he almost wants to, now. Just to see if he can still break stone. “You said ‘yet’ on the boat, so you’re obviously waiting for something. What is it?”
“I want to make it up to you.” Gon turns so that he’s finally facing Killua, not the ocean. Killua almost wishes he hadn’t—this was much easier when they weren’t looking at each other, when they were skipping rocks. “It doesn’t feel right to go looking for something that hurt you so badly, not until I make it right.”
“Make it right,” Killua repeats. His voice isn’t shaking, which is…an improvement to how this conversation might’ve if they’d had it a few years ago. Still. “Gon, you realize how unfair that is, right? Your Nen didn’t hurt me. You did.”
Gon looks stricken, like Killua’s just hit him. “I…I know. And I’m so sorry.”
Fuck. That’s not what Killua had meant to say—really, truly, he’s forgiven Gon. He forgave him a long time ago.
Because Gon might not have forgiven himself, but Killua has long made peace with it. Back in that hospital, he had accepted that Gon had made a choice to push him away, to destroy himself, and that Killua had let him. They were just dumb kids, but they were dumb kids in the middle of a war, and he had learned that there was a part of Gon willing to trade everything away when enough pressure was applied, when he felt grief enough to drown in it.
But that’s also beside the point, because again—he’s also long forgiven Gon for it, for that part of himself.
He’s not here to air out dirty laundry. So instead, Killua shrugs. “It’s okay,” he says. “Water under the bridge Gon, seriously. But…you do realize how unfair it is to both of us, right?”
“I…” Gon’s brow furrows, and even though Killua is kinda angry at him, he also finds it endearing as hell. Fuck. “How?”
“Because,” Killua says. “Now you’re waiting for me to…give you some kind of permission to do something you clearly want to do, when I’ve already told you, several times, both now and back then, that I’m okay.”
Gon blinks at him. “Oh,” he says, after a moment.
“Yeah, oh,” Killua says, pinching the bridge of his nose. He gets sand on his face for his troubles. “Get it now?”
That little line is back between Gon’s brow. “But it’s not permission I’m looking for,” he says, because his skull is still as thick as ever. “I just want to show you I’ve changed. I thought, when you texted..." he trails off, sounding lost. “That you were ready to talk again.”
"So you thought this was, what, some kind of test?” Killua says, dread pooling in his stomach. He hadn’t—that’s not. Not what he’d meant when he texted him. If this was a test, it was for Killua, not for Gon, and he’s pretty sure he already knows his results.
Is…is that what Gon thinks? That Killua had been…testing his loyalty, or something? Killua feels a little sick. “I didn’t save your life so you would feel indebted to me,” he says, his voice shaking. “And I didn’t invite you here because I wanted to see if you’d—if you were fucking worthy, or whatever. I did it because—” he swallows, forces the words out like they’re punches. Gon has to know. How can he not? “Because you’re my friend and I couldn’t lose you. Can’t.”
Gon’s eyes are wide; looks like the punches landed. Killua doesn’t know if he wants to hit or hold him.
“I saved your life so you could live it, idiot,” Killua says weakly. Preferably with me he doesn’t say.
Gon shifts, the first sign of discomfort the entire time they’ve been talking, and Killua is viciously glad for it, that Gon looks like he’s finally questioning…whatever led him to these ass-backwards conclusions. “That…makes sense. I guess I just wanted to see if you still wanted me around. The Nen stuff is secondary, always has been.” He sighs, sounding just as weary as Killua feels. “I’m sorry, I should’ve started this another way.”
Killua eyes him wearily. “Okay,” he says, and it sounds like go on.
“Killua,” Gon says, and oh. It’s been years since he’s heard his name with that rhythm, that cadence. He takes a breath, takes Killua’s hand and laces their fingers together. Killua stares at their hands, Gon's nails square and strong, a scar on top of his hand that Killua doesn’t recognize. “Give me another chance? I want to show you that I’m serious about this.”
Killua’s face feels so hot that his brain is starting to leak out of his ears. “You,” he says. He’s dying, he’s sure of it. “You—what do you mean, serious?”
Gon doesn’t look embarrassed at all, which is unacceptable, considering Killua is five seconds away from combustion. “Whatever you want it to mean,” he says earnestly. His hand is warm. Killua’s is definitely sweaty. “Friends, boyfriends, either, neither. I just…would like to be in your life again.” He dips his chin a little, has the audacity—the fucking audacity—to look shy. “That is, only if you want.”
Killua’s brain is definitely making its way to the ocean by now, spilled out of his ears and winding its way over the smooth stones to where the water kisses the land. “Boyfriends,” he parrots. He can’t—he. What. What the hell is happening.
Wildly, he thinks of his parents. Dad in his room of animal furs in silence and Mom in the computer labs shrieking at the monitors. He immediately discards that line of thought. He and Alluka and Nanika have long established that their family should not serve as a role model for any kind of healthy relationship. The exact fucking opposite, in fact.
He tries to think about the fact that he and his siblings exist at all, and how that might’ve happened, and his brain stops working entirely.
“You don’t have to give an answer right away,” Gon says, breaking the tide of Killua’s crisis. He looks a little concerned—how long has Killua been quiet? “Just—can you answer one thing?”
Slowly, Killua nods. Anything, always, for Gon.
Gon takes a breath. Says, “Is it okay if I stick around? Just these two weeks. Whatever happens after…well. That’s your decision. But now you know my side of it.” He squeezes Killua’s hand. “Whatever you decide, I’ll be happy with it.”
Killua latches onto that last paradox, still compartmentalizing everything else for later. He and Gon have been bickering for as long as they’ve loved each other, and doing the former is much easier than saying the latter. “But you just said you wanted to stay,” he says. “What if I say no?”
A flash of sorrow across Gon’s eyes—but it’s fleeting, and quickly replaced by warmth. Warmth and acceptance. He smiles that small smile of his, reserved only for Killua. It’s small only in its size—it still rips the air from Killua’s lungs, drowning him. “Then you say no,” he says. Simple, easy.
Killua swallows. Look at their hands, the thin white line in the rock beneath them. Looks at Gon, who is still smiling, and waiting.
“Okay,” he whispers, head swimming. “Yeah—I. I’d like that. If you stayed.” He doesn’t realize how hard he’s squeezing Gon’s hand until he lets go. “I don’t know about—about labels, or what we should do after the trip—”
“No problem at all,” Gon says. He lets go of Killua’s hand to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, Killua’s face burning all the while. “If you want, it’ll never be a problem. I just want you. And let’s not think about the end of the trip. Let’s just…see where it goes. How’s that sound?”
Gon is going to be the death of him, Killua’s sure of it. “That sounds…” he says.
It sounds like everything he’s ever wanted and more. Like the thing in his chest that’s been healed over for years is suddenly aching again. Like he’s waking up to possibilities he’d long put to rest, like he’s standing in the street watching the light fall across his back and thinking, part joy, part despair, I’m the one who should be thanking you—
“That sounds cool,” he whispers.
Fuck, he’s going to die. Cool? He buries his face in his hands, his hands and voice shaking. “I’m so sorry.”
Gon just laughs, bright and loud into the night air. “No, no,” he says, and his voice sounds like it did that day they were standing at the foot of the World Tree—full of wonder, almost far away. “I think you’re cool, too. The absolute coolest, Killua.”
Killua peeks through his fingers and avoids Gon’s smile, instead staring at the dark tumble of the waves. This is humiliating. This is the best day of his life. He maybe wants to laugh. He definitely wants to cry. “Stop laughing,” he grumbles. “Stop stop stop.”
Gon laughs even harder. “Okay,” he says, “I will,” and they both don’t care that he’s lying.
***
That night, after they walk back to the house and say good night, Killua dreams of Gon, standing on the cliff’s edge, the sea below him. His arms are at his sides.
He turns, and Killua can’t see his face.
Killua thinks, not again.
***
He wakes up silently, as he always does. He’s sweating bullets. The air is still outside his window; with a grunt, he kicks off the blankets.
Just before he slips into sleep again, the thought slips in, unbidden: have they both changed too much?