Chapter Text
On their first night at Whale Island, Killua had dragged his exhausted body into Gon’s bed and fallen asleep there. Wrapped up in the sheets that still smelled of Gon (the smell of soil after rain, of sunlight seeping through clothes drying on the clothesline), nothing could touch him. Nestled under the duvet Killua could simply exist, and that was enough. There was nothing to prove to anyone, no family bearing down on him, nothing expected of him. He had fallen in love with the sweet taste of the ocean air whispering through the cracks in the windowsill, with the noises of the house sighing and settling as the warmth of the day turned cool. Shocked awake by a nightmare in the dead of the night, the sound of Gon’s soft snores had lulled him to sleep again.
The weeks passed, and falling in love had become part of his daily routine. The tickle of blades of grass rubbing between his toes as he and Gon raced across the fields surrounding his house. The smell of smoke that clung to his clothes long after their campfires had died down to embers. The lightness that filled his chest whenever he looked at Gon, like a surge of the combination of anxiety and exhilartion that comes from holding a secret.
But now, standing on the doorstep of a small house overlooking the sea, hair matted down with sweat and covered head to toe in dirt, Killua feels his chest contract at the sensation of Gon’s hand on his shoulder. Though he is no stranger to the feeling of Gon’s brown, calloused skin against his, since last night, try as he might, Killua hasn’t been able to hold back the cold waves of fear he feels whenever his body is too close to Gon’s. Every brush of skin feels like an overstepped boundary; every held gaze, a taboo. Killua lets out a shaky breath and curls his fingers into fists.
“You gonna knock, or should I?” he asks Gon.
Gon fidgets, pulling on the edge of his mud-spattered shirt. “I was gonna do it,” he says.
“Then hurry up and do it. Let’s just get it over with.”
Gon does. He punches a tentative fist against the wooden door, and it flies open immediately to reveal an indignant Mito-san.
The ensuing lecture lasts for a solid hour. Slumped in his chair at the kitchen table, Gon bears the brunt of it, his eyes wide and watery. Killua stares blankly at the wall, arms behind his head. A verbal lashing is nothing he can’t handle. He tunes out the sound of Mito-san’s voice with ease, but it’s harder to keep his thoughts away from anything related to the night before as Gon babbles on, explaining what happened. Gon offers apology after apology, agreeing that, yes, Mito-san, it was his fault, he should have been more careful, they should have walked home that night, no, of course he won’t worry her like that again. After softly batting them both on the heads, Mito-san sends the boys off to bathe and change their clothes while she prepares lunch.
Trotting up the stairs after Gon, Killua whispers, “She does know you’re a Hunter now, right? You’re a Pro Hunter, and I might as well be one too. She shouldn’t be so worried about it. It was only one night.”
Gon looks over his shoulder to reply. “Maybe, but it still was no good of me to tell her we would be back by nighttime and then never show up.”
“Hey, Gon, when you made up that ‘plan’ of yours, didn’t you know that was going to happen? You had to have known she would get worried, right?”
Hopping up the last few steps, Gon pauses on the landing. He taps a finger against his chin in thought. “Well, yeah,” he says. “But I was being a little selfish when I came up with it. But it all ended up okay in the end, and I got to spend more time with Killua, so it’s no big deal anymore, right?”
Killua gives a noncommital shrug and slips past him and down the hall to their shared room. By now his body has memorized how many steps it takes to get from the top of the stairs to the threshold of Gon’s room (ten, by his usual stride). He listens for the familiar creak of the loose floorboard near Gon’s door, feels it settle beneath his weight as he walks by.
The door to Gon’s room is already open a crack. Killua nudges it, but it doesn’t get very far before hitting the pile of laundry that has been building for the past month.
“We should probably do something about that before we leave,” Killua says to Gon. He pushes the door all the way open and plops down on the floor, shaking the dust from his hair.
“We’re so dirty,” Gon comments, holding up two hands covered in dried mud. A slight blush threatens Killua’s cheeks.
“So?” he says, looking away. “Go take a bath, then.”
There is a strange pause before Gon quietly says, “Okay.” He picks out fresh clothes at random and turns to walk back downstairs, letting the door swing shut behind him.
Gon is still uncharacteristically somber when he returns from his bath. He enters the room without a sound, walking over to collapse into his unmade bed.
“I left the water warm for you, Killua,” Gon states. “The way you like it.”
“Thanks,” Killua replies, but the word feels hollow for some reason.
All Killua feels now when he looks at Gon is the sudden sensation of his stomach dropping and a heaviness in his chest so painful he fears it might rip through the core of his being. He washes up and tumbles into the kitchen for lunch, but when Gon flashes a hesitant smile in his direction, he can hardly meet his eyes. Their hands brush against each other when they reach for the same plate, and Killua jerks back so suddenly that Gon almost laughs at him. But he goes silent when he sees Killua staring at him, wide-eyed. With big, wet eyes Gon turns away and goes back to the table to slouch down in his seat, arms crossed.
Killua’s entire body only feels heavier after that. Even Mito-san senses the sudden shift in atmosphere. She brings it up as tactifully as possible, asking if they had quarreled. Gon, trying to smile away the wetness forming in the corners of his eyes, just laughs it off and explains, “Killua and I are just tired from the walk home. That’s all.” She lets it drop after that, but her brow remains furrowed for the rest of the meal.
When they finish, the two boys excuse themselves. Gon moves to go back upstairs, but Killua heads for the front door. Standing in the sunshine, he breathes a sigh of relief. The fresh air fills his lungs and clears his head. He places a hand over his chest to feel his heart pounding inside.
Gon must be so confused. Even Killua himself is confused. Wasn’t it just this morning that he was reassuring himself that nothing had changed since last night? That they were still the same Gon and Killua, Killua and Gon, just friends who hold hands sometimes and maybe kissed on the lips once? He shakes his head, trying to will away the great knot of anxiety twisting in his stomach.
He’s so absorbed in his own thoughts that he doesn’t notice Gon’s hand on his shoulder until it’s too late. Killua whips his head around, confusion turning to fear in an instant. He moves to step away, but Gon’s grip is firm.
“Killua, why are you acting so weird?” Gon asks, and Killua pretends to ignore the crack in Gon’s voice. He also pretends to ignore the unwanted heat rapidly rising to fill his cheeks, and the way Gon’s fingers feel soft and warm against his bare shoulder.
“I don’t…know?” Killua replies, and it’s not exactly a lie. He presses the back of his hand to his forehead as a throbbing sensation begins to grow in his throat. A thousand different thoughts race through his head. Maybe it’s because he’s never had a friend before, so he doesn’t always know how to act around one. Maybe it’s because a not-so-deep part of him truly believes in the words of his brother that echo in the back of his mind every night when he’s on the edge of sleep, telling him he isn’t qualified to have friends. Maybe it’s because he went right ahead and developed feelings for said friend, feelings beyond casual friendship, the depth of which is beyond anything and everything he had ever dreamed of experiencing in his entire lifetime, and—
“Killua, are you feeling okay? You look like you’re gonna cry.”
Killua blinks, shaken from his emotional reverie.
“I’m fine, Gon,” Killua says, pushing his friend’s comforting hand away and dragging his own arm across his face.
Unconvinced, Gon leans in close, his nose almost brushing against Killua’s cheek. He rests his chin on Killua’s shoulder.
“Then…do you wanna go somewhere and play?” he asks. Killua’s heart jumps.
“What do you mean? Where?”
Gon shrugs. “Anywhere! Ah, I have an old kite that Mito-san used to let me fly when I was little…” He trails off, looking toward the sea. The ocean breeze runs salty fingers through the boys’ hair, leaving it tousled.
Killua crosses and uncrosses his arms. No matter what he does, it feels wrong somehow. He gives up on trying to feel comfortable with Gon in such close proximity and resorts to scratching at the dry skin on his nose.
“Okay,” he concedes. “I get to fly it first.”
“Fine…” Gon huffs. He darts off, returning moments later with a tangled mess of color and cord that Killua would hesitate to call a kite.
Twenty minutes and a pair of scissors later, the kite is airborne. Killua’s feet are planted firmly in the sand, his toned arms moving back and forth with the wind. Gon crouches close to a nearby rock, bullying a crab. For a long time neither of them says anything, content to just enjoy the sunshine and let the tension from earlier dissipate.
When Gon decides he’s bothered the poor crustacean enough, he shuffles over to where Killua is standing and lifts a hand to shield his eyes. Though the colors have faded over time, his childhood kite retains most of its former glory. Gon watches as a determined smile crosses Killua’s face, his teeth digging into his lip in concentration.
“You’re good at this, Killua,” Gon notes.
“I am, aren’t I?”
As he speaks, a large gust of wind hits the shore. The kite shudders. Killua wraps the string around his palm, trying to reign it in, but the kite still threatens to break free.
“You should bring it down now,” Gon says. Killua offers a grunt in response. He pulls back on the cord and the kite protests. It makes a flapping sound and spins in a tight circle, straining against Killua’s hold.
“Just a little longer. I think I can do it—“
Gon frowns and yanks on the cord himself. The kite plummets, crashing headfirst into the sand, and Killua stares at him open-mouthed.
“What’d you do that for?” he asks. “I coulda kept it going!”
“You were gonna lose my kite!”
“Was not.”
“Was too!”
“Was not!”
Gon inches closer. He sticks out his tongue, wipes his thumb across it, and places the wet finger on the point of Killua’s nose. “Was too!” he yells, jumping out of the way before Killua can grab hold of him and wrestle him down. But his ankle catches the string of the downed kite and he yelps, tumbling backwards into the sand. Killua flops down too, the cord still wrapped tightly around his fingers. He looks disgusted as he reaches up and wipes Gon’s spit off of his face.
“What was that for?” he hisses, trying to bite back a smile.
Gon leans back on his elbows and kicks sand in Killua’s direction. “I was checking to see if Killua was Killua again!” he explains.
Killua grabs a handful of sand and lets it sift through his fingers.
“I think so,” he says. He swallows. “Gon—“
“I know.”
Killua recoils, face flushing pink for the thousandth time that weekend. He looks at the sea, at the clouds, at the crashed kite; anywhere but Gon. With all the courage he can muster, Killua asks, “H—How long have you known?”
Gon whistles. “I figured it out, after I told you that I crashed the boat on purpose. Last night was fun,”—he lets loose a dramatic sigh—“but this morning I figured it out…that you were starting to get tired of always being around me, Killua. So all of today, when you didn’t want to take a bath with me, and when you would barely look at me, I knew I was right. It’s okay though! I know we can still be friends, even if you get tired of me sometimes.”
Killua chokes on air. He fights back the urge to laugh at the absurdity of Gon’s conclusion.
“What? You’re completely off base, Gon! That’s not it at all.” He almost lets slip the fact that he could never tire of Gon’s company, never in a million years, that there’s nothing Gon could ever do or say that would drive Killua away, he’s sure of it. But he restrains himself.
Gon scoops up a handful of sand and places it on Killua’s thigh. “Ah, so I was wrong,” he says.
Killua nods. “Completely.” It’s difficult, but he supresses the sudden urge to kiss him again to show him just how wrong he is.
“Killua, I remember kissing you,” Gon blurts out. Killua jumps, eyes shooting upwards to catch Gon clamping a hand over his mouth and half laughing, half coughing. “I’m sorry. That just came out. I don’t know if you remember ‘cause it was late and dark and didn’t last very long, but I remember. Is that weird?”
“It’s not weird,” Killua says slowly. The warm panic that rushes into his lungs feels so familiar now. Clearing his throat, he tries to change the subject. “Let’s get the kite and go back inside.”
“Yeah, I think Mito-san wanted us to do some things around the house before we leave tomorrow!” Gon replies. “We can talk more tonight.”
Before Killua can protest to that, Gon is pulling him by the wrist and dragging him back up the hill toward his house.
As it turns out, “things” means hauling the massive load of laundry out of Gon’s room to be washed, changing the sheets on their beds, sweeping the upstairs hallway, and helping Mito-san bake a giant chocolate cake to be eaten after their last meal on Whale Island tonight. Killua slacks off on the first three chores, yawning and letting Gon do most of the work. When they finish cleaning the house, the boys tumble downstairs to announce that they’re ready to cook.
“I’ve never made a cake before,” Killua confesses, flipping through a cookbook on the kitchen counter.
“Huh? Really? It’s not that hard. I’ll teach you!” Gon says. He pours a cup of water and a cup of flour into a bowl and begins to mix them together. Leaning over Killua’s shoulder to check the recipe, he begins to add more ingredients, humming all the while.
From her seat behind them, Mito-san laughs. She says, “Gon, you’ve always been so good at making meals and doing chores. Whoever you end up with will be one lucky girl!”
Killua’s jaw clenches, teeth grinding against each other. He snatches the bowl away from Gon and begins to stir violently, turning away to hide his reddening face. Gon looks down at his now empty hands, alarmed. He glances over at Mito and chirps, “Ah, is that so? I always thought the only girl for me was you, Mito-san!”
“You’ve always been such a charmer. You’ll have no trouble at all, I’m sure of it,” Mito-san replies. She stands up, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I’ll leave you two to it now. If you have any trouble, I’ll be outside.”
Gon nods, and then they’re alone.
“Killua, if you wanted to stir so badly you could just ask. I would have let you. You didn’t need to grab it from me—“
Killua whirls around. He cracks an egg in his bare hand, letting the yolk drip down into the batter.
“No, I’m fine,” Killua says blankly.
Gon raises an eyebrow. “That’s not even what I asked!”
Killua blinks. “Huh? Oh, sorry. I got distracted. Can you pass me the chocolate?”
“No.”
“Wh—why not?”
Gon grins sheepishly as he scratches the back of his neck. “Because you’ll eat it all before we can finish baking!”
Killua doesn’t argue with that. He perches on the countertop and lets Gon take care of the rest of the baking. Gon pours the batter into a tray and Killua nonchalantly reaches over to stick his fingers in it when Gon isn’t looking. He manages to scoop a tiny bit of chocolate batter into his mouth before Gon whips around and smacks his hands away.
“Killua!” Gon complains.
“I couldn’t help it! It was right there!” Killua protests. Gon digs a mitt out of a nearby drawer and shoves the cake pan into the oven, slamming the door behind him.
“Let me see your other hand!” he says, holding his arm out expectantly. Killua frowns but obeys. He holds up a hand dripping with batter and sticks a chocolate-covered thumb in his mouth.
“Happy?” Killua says.
“If you give me some, I won’t tell Mito-san you stuck your hands in the cake,” Gon replies cheerfully.
“Oh yeah? How am I supposed to do that, genius?”
Gon opens his mouth. “Just give me some!” he says, pointing to his tongue.
Killua recoils. “That’s disgusting, Gon!”
“You can’t call my mouth disgusting after you kissed it!” Gon whines loudly. Killua slams his hand against Gon’s mouth, smearing chocolate over his face.
“Shut up!” Killua roars. “Stop bringing that up; it’s so embarrassing!”
Gon pushes Killua away and wipes the chocolate from his mouth. “Why’d you do it, then?” he asks.
“Because you wanted to!”
“You brought it up! I just said I wouldn’t mind! You didn’t have to actually do it.”
“So it’s my fault?”
“Yeah!”
“Shut up! You’re an idiot!”
“I know I’m an idiot!”
“Then shut up!”
Gon turns his back on Killua and crosses his arms. Killua wipes his hand on his shorts and sticks his tongue out at Gon’s back. They stay like that for awhile, neither willing to look at the other. Finally, Gon lets out a sigh and says, “At least you’re acting normal again now, Killua.”
Killua tugs on a strand of his hair, twirling it around his finger. “Whatever,” he says. “I’m bored. Let’s go do something while we wait for the cake to finish baking.”
Gon snaps his fingers. “Let’s play a game!” he shouts.
Killua slides off of the countertop, shuddering as his bare feet hit the cold tile floor. “Oh yeah? What kinda game?”
“The loser has to do anything the winner says, for the rest of the day!”
Killua’s heart skips a beat.
“I guess, but…what kind of game?” he asks again.
Gon wrinkles his nose. He tilts his head to the side, tapping his foot.
“I have no idea,” he confesses. “How about rock-paper-scissors?”
“No way! That’s way too fast, and you always end up winning somehow, so it’s no fair either!”
Gon pouts. “But I want to win!”
“So do I!” Killua retorts. “Okay, I have a better idea. Let’s do a tournament. We’ll pick three games, and whoever wins two out of the three will be the winner.”
“Sounds good to me!”
Gon motions for Killua to follow him upstairs, and the two boys race into the room at the far end of the hall.
After a few minutes of deliberation they decide that their tournament will consist of a two-player racing game Killua had bought for the JoyStation awhile ago, a dusty old checkers board Gon digs out of the closet, and, finally, at Gon’s request, rock-paper-scissors.
Despite his lack of experience, Gon catches on to the controls of the racing game with incredible speed. After a heated practice match they move on to the real game. Killua navigates the menus with ease to build a custom-made vehicle of his liking, while Gon fumbles his way through and ends up with a generic default car. On the first lap, Killua takes full advantage of the secret shortcuts, zooming his way through obstacles and crossing the finish line in record time. But by the second lap, Gon catches up, causing Killua to spin out of control and crash. Gon clears the third lap in no time at all and Killua throws his controller down in disgust.
“There’s no way you could have won! You must have cheated somehow!” he protests, reaching over to pinch Gon’s cheek.
“Ow, Killua, that hurts! I didn’t cheat, I swear! We can even play again if you want!”
Killua shakes his head. “Whatever. Rules are rules,” he says.
Shaken by his loss, Killua focuses all his attention on winning the next game. And so he does. In the blink of an eye Gon finds himself gawking at an empty checkers board, bewildered.
“Are you sure that last move was legal—“
“Huh? Of course it was! What are you implying, Gon!”
Gon smacks his lips together. “Anyway, it’s fine. You win. Now, let’s finish this!”
He stands up, holds out his fist, and grins. Killua can barely hold back the smile forming on his own face at the look of determination in Gon’s eyes. A part of him wants to lose just to see what Gon will ask of him, but it’s mostly drowned out by the part of him aching to win.
“First comes rock!” Gon shouts.
“Rock…”
“Paper…”
Killua yells, “Scissors!” at the very instant that Gon triumphantly announces, “ROCK!”
They both stare at each other for a moment. Then Gon bursts out laughing and Killua falls to his knees, dragging his hands through his hair.
“How do you do it every single time!” Killua whines.
Gon bends over to pat Killua’s head. “It’s a secret!” he whispers.
Killua flops backwards, head hitting the floor. “Ugh. Fine. You win. Now what’re you gonna force me to do?”
Gon’s eyes go wide. “I hadn’t really thought about that,” he admits. “Ah, first off, you can go check on the cake for me!”
Killua reluctantly drags himself up off the floor, out of the room, and down the stairs. He hears Gon’s soft footsteps padding after him, and the two find themselves in the kitchen again, breathing in the warm smell of baking chocolate.
“I realized after I said that, you probably don’t know what to check for,” Gon says. He tosses the oven mitt to Killua, who examines it with a furrowed brow before slipping his hand inside. Killua opens the oven door. Immediately the smell overwhelms him. His eyes flutter shut and he sucks in a deep breath through his nose.
Gon hands him a knife and instructs him to stick it in the cake. “If it’s ready, the knife will be clean when it comes out,” Gon informs him.
Killua stabs the cake, but the knife comes out still covered in batter. He licks it off, ignoring the heat as it burns his tongue.
“Let’s leave it in,” Killua says, removing the oven mitt and kicking the oven shut. “So, what’s next?”
Gon smiles, his hands firmly planted on his hips. “Carry me outside and give me a massage!” he says.
“Hey, that’s going too far! You’re too needy!”
“Nuh-uh!” Gon objects. “You agreed! If Killua had won, I would have done anything he asked me to do, so you gotta do the same for me!”
Without another word, Killua barrels toward Gon and scoops him up onto his back with ease. He spins around a few times, trying to make Gon dizzy, but Gon just laughs and tells him to hurry up.
The rest of the afternoon passes in a hazy blur of laughter. Gon exercises his power to the fullest, making Killua wait on him hand and foot. Killua rolls his eyes but always indulges him. A part of him enjoys being at Gon’s beck and call, unable to deny him any request. The glee that shimmers in Gon’s eyes every time Killua carries out one of his tasks makes Killua’s heart swell. He pushes the discomfort and hesitation from earlier out of his mind, focusing only on Gon’s happiness.
Eventually Mito-san calls them in for dinner, scolding them for leaving the cake in the oven unattended. They enjoy a warm meal, Gon swinging his leg so that it bumps into Killua’s shin occasionally. At the head of the table, Mito-san stares into her soup.
“You’re really leaving tomorrow,” she says with a sigh. Gon looks up from his rice, his legs going still.
“I’ll be back soon! Maybe I’ll bring Kurapika and Leorio next time, too!”
Mito-san laughs. “The more, the merrier,” she tells him. “Well, I won’t keep you boys for too long tonight. Don’t worry about the dishes. I’ll take care of them. You can bring some cake upstairs, but be careful not to get crumbs all over the floor.”
“Thanks!” Gon says. He hops over to the counter and cuts out two pieces of cake. Killua lingers by the table.
“Thanks, Mito-san,” Killua mutters. Before Mito-san can open her mouth to reply, Killua dashes up the stairs, Gon following close behind.
Seated on the now clean floor of Gon’s room, the two boys quickly gobble up their shares of cake. Darkness has just begun to creep in, smoothing the sharp edges of daylight. Even with his highly trained eyes, Killua’s world goes soft as the light disappears. He listens to the sound of Gon breathing next to him. The warmth of his presence feels soothing.
Killua tries to break the silence a few times, but the words always get caught on his tongue. It feels as though there is something caged in the space between his ribs. He traces a finger in circles across the floor. Tomorrow they’ll leave this little world and return to a place where fear is the norm and time passes in the blink of an eye. There will be no time for games, no afternoons to waste bathing in the sun. This might be their last chance in a long time to really sit and talk, to just exist in each other’s company without the burden of responsibility or life-and-death matters looming like storms overhead.
Beside Killua, Gon keeps moving around. He positions himself so that he’s lying on his stomach, head propped up on his hands and staring at Killua.
“Hey,” he whispers. “Killua, you have to answer this question without lying, okay?”
“That’s a weird request, but okay,” Killua responds. He shifts so that he’s sitting with his legs crossed, facing Gon. “What is it?”
“What makes Killua happiest?”
Killua’s stomach ties itself in a knot. At the very least, this means that Gon doesn’t remember his brief sleep-talking conversation the night before. He opens his mouth, then closes it. Things like that are easy to confess on the cusp of sleep, words half lost in the cadence of a yawn, but to stare into someone’s eyes and speak the truth is an entirely different matter.
“Huh,” Killua says at last. “I guess being here. Whale Island. Home-cooked meals. Fishing, the ocean. My little sister. My mattress. Chocolate. Video games. Getting stronger and training.”
“That’s all?” Gon asks.
“Honestly, what more do you want me to say? That’s all I can think of.”
Gon goes quiet. He rolls onto his back, arms forming a pillow beneath his head as he stares up at the ceiling.
“Hey, what’s wrong, Gon?” Killua asks, almost teasingly.
“Maybe it’s kinda selfish, but I was hoping I might be on your list somewhere.”
Ignoring the pang in his ribcage, Killua pretends to consider this. “Okay then. Video games, getting stronger, training, and then Gon.”
“I’m really last?!” Gon squawks. Killua shoots him a smug smile.
“Looks like it.”
Gon shuts his eyes. A shaky breath rattles through his chest. “Oh. I thought I wanted to know the truth,” he whispers slowly, “but I guess I just wanted to hear you say nice stuff about me.”
“At least you admit it,” Killua comments with a laugh. But guilt settles like lead in his stomach.
“Even if I don’t make you happiest, I still make you pretty happy, right?” Gon asks. He pushes himself back up into a sitting position, eyes wide and face far too close to Killua’s for comfort.
“Y—yeah, I guess you do,” Killua mumbles.
Gon rubs the edge of his shirt between his thumb and index finger. With a jolt Killua realizes that his friend’s face is flushed, the ghost of a grin beginning to form on his lips.
“Other than Mito-san, you make me the happiest I think. I’m glad I have you, Killua.” Gon bites his lip. “I can’t stop thinking about what happened last night. I was really glad…I still am.”
Killua can hardly breathe. His head feels warm and fuzzy, kind of like he imagines a fever might feel.
“I…ah, okay,” is all Killua can manage to choke out.
Gon lifts two trembling hands to hold Killua’s face, pressing their foreheads together like the night before.
“Thanks for being my best friend in the whole world,” Gon murmurs. Killua’s entire body freezes as Gon presses a kiss to his forehead. His head spins. He wills himself to move, wills his arms to wrap around Gon and pull him in, try to give back a little of what Gon has give him. But he stays frozen, the flood of emotion rising in his lungs almost unbearable.
When Gon pulls back to look Killua in the eyes, Killua covers his burning face with a hand and looks away.
Gon lowers his hands and tilts his head to the side. “Sorry, I kind of got carried away,” he tells Killua. “I just wanted you to know. We’ll be working even harder after tomorrow, so we won’t have a lot of time like this.”
Killua swallows. “I know,” he says, trying to ease the ache in his throat. “Uh, I don’t really know what to say.”
“It’s fine, I didn’t really expect you to say anything, actually.”
“You really do make me the happiest, Gon,” Killua blurts out suddenly. He clears his throat. “I mean, that is…”
He trails off, watching Gon rock back and forth, beaming from ear to ear.
“I knew it!” Gon says under his breath.
Killua shakes his head. “You’re so weird.”
“You still love me, though.”
There’s a pause. The sun still hasn’t quite dipped below the horizon. Killua studies Gon, who sits half bathed in blood red sunlight and half shrouded in the shadows creeping into the room.
“Looks like it,” he replies.
“Then, do you think we can try it again?” Gon asks.
Killua blinks. “Try what?”
“You know…kissing.”
“I guess that sounds okay,” Killua answers, a shy smile creeping up his lips.
They move onto Killua’s mattress for the sake of comfort. Killua finds himself more at ease with the thought of touching Gon now that he knows that Gon doesn’t mind; knows that he welcomes it, even. He sits cross-legged, a pillow wedged between his back and the wall behind him. Gon wraps his arms around Killua’s neck and they find themselves as they were the night before: close, but neither of them willing to make the final move.
“So,” Killua finally mutters. “Well.”
“I still don’t really know what to do,” Gon informs him.
“Neither do I. I guess if you just stay still, and I’ll, uh—Gon, stop squirming!” Killua hisses, embarrassed.
Gon responds by leaning forward and rubbing his nose against Killua’s.
“I can’t help it; I’m so excited, because it’s you, Killua!” he laughs.
“That’s not really helping,” Killua says through gritted teeth. He jabs a finger into Gon’s ribcage, earning a yelp of pain in return. “Stupid. If you keep it up I’ll tickle you until you die.”
Gon’s eyes widen and his eyebrows shoot up comically. “Geez, Killua, you’re scary sometimes!”
“Hey, you’re stalling again!” Killua teases. He slides a cold hand under Gon’s shirt and tickles his soft stomach.
“Don’t!” Gon yelps. Killua rolls his eyes but stops, moving his hand to grab a handful of Gon’s shirt and pull him even closer.
This time Gon moves first, his lips slightly parted as they press against Killua’s. Killua tightens his hold on Gon’s shirt. His free hand finds Gon’s neck and he strokes the stray strands of hair sprouting from the back of Gon’s head. All he can feel is Gon, and all he can smell is the familiar scent that brings back vivid memories of his first night on Whale Island. His stomach clenches, filling with warmth.
Gon pulls away to ask, “Is it okay?”
“I guess it’s nice,” Killua replies. He can’t tear his eyes away from Gon’s chapped lips.
“Can I try something, then?”
Killua frowns. “Depends on what it is…”
“Just close your eyes.”
“Fine.”
Killua’s eyes fall shut, his body on high alert. He feels Gon moving, but he can’t tell exactly what he’s doing. He breathes in and out, stamping down his growing anxiety.
A few seconds later Gon presses his lips to Killua’s again, but this time he uses his tongue to part Killua’s lips. Immediately Killua’s eyes fly open and he smacks his hand against Gon’s forehead, shoving him away.
“What was that!” he pants.
Gon sticks out his bottom lip. “That’s how they do it in the movies!” he explains.
“It’s gross! I don’t want your tongue anywhere near my tongue! Besides, you still taste like chocolate!”
“You like chocolate!” Gon protests. “You like chocolate more than you like me!”
Killua’s jaw falls open. “You’re terrible! Don’t make me choose between you and chocolate.”
Gon crosses his arms and sticks his tongue out. “I was trying to let you have both!”
“YOU are impossible,” Killua says defeatedly.
“YOU…are mean, Killua!” Gon retorts. He turns around and lets his head fall back into Killua’s lap. With a sigh, he asks, “Should we go out and watch the sunset? It’s our last one here.”
Killua absentmindedly runs his fingers through Gon’s dark, wiry hair. “Mm,” he replies. “Sure.”
Outside, the air has begun to chill as dusk continues to settle around them. Killua casually reaches for Gon’s hand and they slowly make their way down to the beach together. The distant sound of cicadas wailing echoes from the forest. Around them, fireflies start to flicker awake, tiny yellow lights blinking in and out of existence. Gon hums as he swings their hands back and forth.
“It looks like the sky is bleeding,” Gon comments, using his free hand to point at the massive blotch of red in the sky.
“We’ll have good sailing weather tomorrow,” Killua says, nodding.
They find a log wedged in the sand and sit. Gon rests his head on Killua’s shoulder.
“I can’t wait to tell Leorio and Kurapika all about Whale Island,” Gon says. “What do you think they’ll say? About us.”
Killua traces a circle in the sand with his bare foot. “No matter how much you want this to last, Gon, in the end it’s just a temporary thing, right? Once we leave tomorrow, we’ll have to go back to the real world. There’s no time for stuff like this.”
“Maybe. I don’t think anything will change, though. But we don’t have to talk about it anymore once we leave, if you don’t want to.”
“If you say so. We still have time till then, though.” Killua leans over to press a kiss to Gon’s forehead. Despite what he says, he knows his feelings won’t change so easily. But to save himself the heartbreak later, he decides to start bracing them both for it now.
For the past month, Killua has grown accustomed to falling in love. He has discovered joy in the way the floorboards creaked under his weight when he walked. He has watched sunset after sunset slip away, each more beautiful than the last. He has grown to love Gon’s little world, and with it, he has grown to love Gon even more deeply than before. In ways he can never hope to express, Killua is infinitely thankful for the opportunities his friend has given him.
Killua kisses Gon once more. He holds his friend’s head in place so he can’t turn away, can’t look at anything but Killua. When he leans back, taking in the way the light illuminates Gon’s face, the slight curve of his lips, the freckles dancing across his cheeks, he locks the memory away somewhere deep and precious.
They stay until the last beams of light leak back below the horizon, but neither of them bothers to watch the sun. When it’s dark enough that Killua’s world starts to blur at the edges, Gon pulls him up and they pad across the sand. As they walk, their footsteps fall into perfect sync, and they blend into the same silhouette.