Chapter Text
Be good… So good…
Killua wasn't sure how much time had passed. Everything was colored over in a rosy haze, as if he were walking through a thick fog of perfume. He couldn't seem to focus on anything. There was only the overwhelming buffet of happiness. It was so strong it made him dizzy, keeping his vision spinning and his stomach in fluttering knots.
Stay still… Quiet and meek…
He phased in and out of awareness. There were brief glimpses of something almost like lucidity— a spark of pain breaking through as Illumi held him too tightly. A moment of nausea as his jaw was pried open and a fork forced past his lips, cold fingers massaging his throat until he swallowed. Water too cold or too hot, leaving him shivering and raw as nails raked through his hair and shampoo stung his eyes.
Nothing is wrong… relax…
"Good job," Illumi's voice murmured through the fog, layered overtop his own heartbeat, "You're being such a good boy. I always knew you could."
So, so good…
He could. Killua was so good. He didn't know how to do anything else. He didn't know anything at all…
You don't need to know anything…
"Such a shame this can't last forever. But I'll cherish the next version of you, too.... Even if it needs a little tweaking. Just as I always have. "
You're perfect as long as you obey.
Killua floated. Nothing made sense but the joy and the warmth of the love crushing him.
"More time would have been better, but this should be enough. You can behave while I'm gone, can't you? It'll just be for a little bit."
Be good… Be good…
His head was beginning to hurt. Why did it hurt? It wasn't going away. All the other pain was brief. Little nips, to remind him to be obedient. But this pain lingered. A dull ache, familiar and unfamiliar, refusing to wither away.
Killua curled up on his side, sore muscles twitching. Every part of him… was so heavy. As if he had been in a deep, deep sleep. It took so much effort to drag his shaking, numb arms up, pressing lighter than a butterfly against the source of the pain. His forehead was hot. Did he have a fever? What was wrong with him?
Nothing is wrong. Be good and wait!
He couldn't. It hurt.
The saccharine happiness was no longer strong enough to overpower the pain.
Killua shivered as his artificial joy splintered apart like fiberglass.
His headache roared to the forefront. He writhed, clutching at his head. It did little to ease the agony as it expanded tenfold, no longer muffled by the fog of joy implanted through the needle.
What the fuck… What had happened to him?
Killua struggled upright. The sheets were… slippery. Silk? He didn't use silk sheets. Where—
He was in Illumi's bed.
Unnerved, Killua jumped up. His knees buckled, clumsy and slow. He tried to grab at the blankets but they slipped through his hands, letting him slide like a newborn foal to the floor. He didn't care. At least he was out of that thing. How long had he spent there? Hours? Days? Killua had the snatches of recollection— family meals he didn't remember eating at, conversations he didn't remember speaking in, mornings he didn't remember waking for. All of it dismembered and scattered through the fog.
The only sure fact he knew was that Illumi had always, always been there. Always with a hand on him. On his shoulder, on his head, even holding his hand like a child. Fighting off the proximity headache while keeping him in a convenient fugue state.
Killua shivered. He rubbed at his arms, toddling unsteadily to his feet. He was perfectly clean, no dirt under his nails, no greasy weight to his hair… But he felt weirdly unclean.
Illumi had been with him the entire time. Feeding him, holding him, bathing him. He did that when Killua was a baby, and even a toddler. But that was when Killua couldn't always do everything himself— when he was young enough to need help.
He hadn't needed or wanted help. It had just been forced on him anyway.
Killua pressed his lips tightly together. He squeezed himself, trying to will the rabbiting thump of his heart down. If it rose any higher in his throat he would throw it up. He nearly yanked Illumi's door off its hinges in his haste to get out.
He honestly hadn't thought it was possible for Illumi to have more power over him. To be reduced to no more than a corpse, puppeted around at his brother's whim…
Killua slammed his bedroom door shut behind himself, breathing hard. He stumbled to his closet, yanking his shoes on. His shaking hands locked so tightly around the straps of his backpack he barely managed to put it on.
It was no longer an option to wait. Killua needed to escape now— before Illumi returned.
NO.
The needle screamed, but it was predictable. He could brace for the pain a little, if he at least knew it was coming. For all the time Illumi had to tweak it while he was comatose, that reaction remained the same.
Things that didn't change were things he could figure his way around. What was a little more pain? The headache wasn't going to go away. A little extra agony buttered overtop was practically ignorable.
"I'm going to enjoy having you ripped out," Killua snarled. It hurt. What was new?
He could do this.
Killua shook out his limbs, grimacing at the staticky feel in his fingertips. Did Illumi not let him even walk on his own? It took several stretches before his toes were responding the way they should! It was fine if they hurt, but they needed to function.
He looked around his room one last time. Did he need anything else? He didn't want to waste time packing— there was pretty little he actually needed from home. Pretty much nothing, honestly. He could get a new phone, he could get new money, he could get food or water or clothes— It felt better to leave everything behind. As much of it as possible.
Killua didn't belong here. It was only right he leave everything associated with his past here, wasn't it? Even his backpack… Well, he could trash it outside the walls. If anything, maybe he should have grabbed first-aid supplies…
The bandage.
Killua darted back into the closet, pulling his sock drawer apart. Gon's bandage… Even if no one ever found it, he didn't want to leave it. Not even for one of the butlers to throw away. It was Gon's! It had his blood on it, his smell, his— It was his! Not even a hair from Gon's head deserved the fate of being trapped in the Zoldyck manor.
It was unreasonable, and a little insane, but Killua didn't care. He earned the right to be both. If it made him feel better to take every part of Gon away from Kukuroo, then he fucking would. Screw them all!
He stuffed the bandage into his pocket and climbed up onto his desk, scooting out onto the windowsill. The estate was huge. If he was lucky, Gon had escaped— but Killua didn't fool himself into believing he did. Nor did he allow the possibility of Gon having been caught during his fugue to sway him. If he had, Illumi wouldn't have let it go quietly. His brother would have made sure to show him. He would have made it into a lesson. There was no future where Illumi didn't take any chance to show Killua "his place".
Gon managed to evade even Hisoka for days during the Hunter Exam. That was nothing to sneeze at. Even if he was weaker than the weakest staff member, he knew the wilderness. Killua could… trust him… to stay hidden.
It was the first thing he had to do— Killua couldn't leave without finding Gon. What if, because he didn't know Killua had escaped, he would come back to the manor? He got out the first time because of Killua and Canary— he got out the second time because Illumi didn't feel like chasing him.
There would be no third time.
When would Illumi come back? Who was currently home, who was out on jobs? What staff were on shift, and where? Killua wasn't sure how much time he had to look for Gon, and had no basis of how far he could go before the needle began to really hurt him— Illumi already warned him that the distance would punish him. How far was too far?
He hadn't been able to so much as step outside the manor since the needle had been planted in him. Killua swallowed nervously. Would Illumi have restricted his radius even inside the property?
He'd just have to find out.
Where are you going?
Killua crept down the roof. He could afford to move much more gingerly this time, at least. There was no Gon in his arms, and no one waiting to find them gone. It was just Killua. Killua was allowed to roam wherever he pleased in his own home. With luck, he'd even run into Canary. He had a feeling she had been sent out of the manor while he was here. Probably given petty work around the perimeters, instead. Fuck, if she had just been older—! If they both had been older, stronger, maybe they would have had more sway.
Then again, maybe they wouldn't.
Killua suppressed a shudder at the idea of being older, taller, stronger… with a needle to match still embedded in his brain.
He shoved down the immediate urgency to escape before it could bubble back up. It was difficult to suppress the most familiar thought he had while trapped at home, but he had no other choice. He could handle the pain, but it was still a waste of time. He couldn't allow Illumi to cripple this chance.
Who knew when he'd next get an opportunity? He might never. With every failure, the window closed another precious inch.
Where are you going?
Killua landed in the grass at the base of the manor. He barely glanced, checking for any prying eyes, before he was ducking back across the gardens into the undergrowth. He had a solid sense of deja vu. The last time he'd done this, he had been utterly terrified. Every clumsy step had felt as urgent as a knife, with Gon so dazed and bleeding, his hand freshly broken, both of them barefoot in the woods—
Please, he thought, uncaring how useless it was, let this be easy. If it can't be easy, let it be fast. If it can't even be fast, then let it just be over at all.
He just had to keep moving. Keep moving, keep searching. Killua wished, for the first time, that he had Gon's nose. Killua was trained extensively in tracking. He could probably lock down a target from across a city with nothing but a description of a jacket. He could grid-search a country for a single human. It was all just another part of his assassin's regime.
But Gon— Gon was almost more a wild animal than he was a human. Killua had lived in the estate his entire life, yet Gon moved as if he was a part of it. Not the house, but the woods.
Killua had a better chance finding a particular leaf in all the trees than he may have luck finding his friend…
…and the further from the manor— from Illumi— that Killua got, the worse his headache became.
Where are you going?
Without Illumi in the room, it had been at an undercurrent. The tiniest bit of extra sensitivity to harsh light, or sharp sounds. Barely noticeable.
By the time he reached the ends of the gardens, it had evolved into a dull pulse. Deeper into the undergrowth, and Killua's ears began to buzz and hum, ringing faintly. Within a few minutes, he was struggling to hear over his heart beating behind his temples. It felt as if the organ had dragged its way up his throat, using his spine as a ladder. It forced its way up and into his skull like a cat trying to fit into a small box.
Where are you going, Killua?
Killua swallowed hard. He pushed on. It didn't matter how bad it got. He just had to get to where he was going. He just had to stop thinking. No more thinking, and only walking. At least walking was productive.
He achieved nothing by staying still. That's why Illumi wouldn't let him leave.
Family sticks close together.
He gritted his teeth and steeled his jaw. Killua kept walking, picking up his pace even as a sudden uptick in his headache nearly made him trip. He was still okay. Even when he got far enough that it became a migraine, he'd be okay. Even if he vomited. Even if he went blind and deaf.
If he kept walking, his chances of finding Gon kept changing.
Family must stay close. You can never leave your family.
As long as he could still walk, he'd be okay. Killua breathed harshly, almost panting. Not enough air was getting in his lungs. He felt like he was being compressed. Crumpled like a napkin in an unforgiving fist.
If he couldn't find Gon, maybe Gon could find him. He'd hear Killua coming. He'd smell him on the wind.
He just had to keep walking.
You're getting too far away.
His head pounded. It was so loud. Like a gong being repeatedly struck. Crashing waves, over and over and over. He stumbled over a tree root and the world spun sharply to the left.
The nausea was kicking in. He was getting further. This was bad. Soon, he wouldn't be able to… to… Killua swallowed shakily as his mouth went wet. No, this was good. This meant something good. He couldn't think of what. He couldn't think of— of anything.
He pressed one foot in front of the other. His knee folded for a moment under his weight and he jerked awkwardly to catch himself. The world yanked sideways.
Come back here.
Nausea sent him reeling for one blistering hot second that felt like eternity. Killua's eyes went wide. Fuck, shit—! He was going to throw up— He needed to hold on to something— Killua's good arm pinwheeled, trying to blindly grab for a tree, a branch, a bush, anything—!
His hand buried itself into something soft and long.
Killua curled his clawed fingers around it. He held it tight, breathing ragged, staggering towards it. A tree. Please. Something he could just lean against for a second. Something cold, something cool to press his burning cheek against. Please, fuck, please.
Instead he collapsed against something warm. Killua keened, a noise half between confusion and pain as he seemingly sank into the warm, soft thing. He kneaded his hand into it uselessly. What was it? He couldn't see. The pain was so bad. Did he even have a head anymore? It felt more like his head had been reduced to a thing, a swollen, throbbing lump of meat in place of his hair, his ears, his face. A piece of putty squished between a giant's fat fingers.
At least the warm soft thing blocked out the world. The harsh light, the ear-splitting sound— all of it muffled, just barely, by a cloud of something.
A warm breeze gusted against his skull.
A second later, something large—wet?—dragged up his hair.
He knew that feeling. The realization broke through the haze of pain.
"Mike?" Killua managed to whisper. Even speaking hurt. The vibration of his vocal cords felt like it traveled up into his brain and echoed 50 times louder. Another hot wind blew over his head. It smelled so bad that Killua almost lost the battle against throwing up a second time. Like rotting meat. "M-Mike… I need…"
What did he need? What could he say? Help me? It hurts? I can't walk? Take me to Gon? Mike was smart but he was still a dog. Not even a service dog, but a hunting dog. He was bred to track and kill and nothing else.
Killua's eyes flew open. His shaking hand slid over his pocket.
"Mike," Killua breathed. he was so quiet he could barely hear himself. Still, the tiny words made his migraine pulse angrily. Killua pulled the little piece of bandage out, soaked with Gon's dried blood, and held it up to where he hoped Mike's face was. A wet nose bumped against his knuckles, snuffling quietly. "Find."
A huff was his only warning. Killua barely managed to grab a handful of Mike's long fur as the hound turned, head dipped low, and bounded off into the undergrowth. Wind whistled past his ears. Killua grit his teeth against his headache, burying his face deep into Mike's fur. His bad hand screamed as he forced his bandaged fingers to curl. The animal's huge heart pounding against his face made his head spin.
Still, somehow, every breath was becoming a little easier. The pressure in his skull was slowly lightening, as if Killua was rising up from deep water to the surface. It was getting easier and easier to think. The pain was loosening its grip.
Was… Mike going back towards the manor?
They slowed as Mike paused to sniff hard at a tree's lower branches. Killua dared to look up but regretted it as light blasted into his sensitive eyes. They were close enough to the manor now that the pain had devolved from a migraine back down to a headache. It still hurt, made him a little off-balance, but he could think.
Killua took the time to climb further up Mike's back. It was awkward and painful. Still, there was something weirdly… cool about it. Mike remained a giant no matter how tall Killua grew. It made even the pain nostalgic; like the days when Killua used to sneak out of his room. He always did after a job, too pent-up and upset to stay in the manor— he remembered, vaguely, the wind in his hair. The fur twisting between his fingers and caught under the corners of his nails. The burrs and branches scraping his knees as the hound patrolled the estate, Killua perched high up on his nape.
Mike whuffed loudly. Killua ducked down into the long fur just in time for the dog to take off again. He pretended, just like he used to, that Mike had been waiting for him to get comfortable.
"Thanks, Mike," he mumbled. The hound's huge ear swiveled back for a moment before flicking forward.
They banked left. Right. Doubled back between two, three trees. Crossed a small stream Killua forgot ran through the property. Mike got no closer nor farther from the manor itself, seeming to follow some invisible perimeter just far enough into the tree line to keep unseen from the gardens. Killua glanced up to see the front of the manor, the back, the sides—
His eyes widened.
Gon's path… He had been circling the manor. Like a wolf around a rabbit's burrow, waiting for an opening. Had Killua's open window been that opportunity? To have seen that small change, that little crack to wiggle through… He'd have to have been there all along as Killua suffered inside without him.
Just how long had Gon escaped before charging right back in!? Seconds!?
How long had he continued to circle, peering through windows with his keen eyes as Killua lay in a stupor in Illumi's arms?
Maybe he hadn't seen him. Maybe Killua could be spared that one humiliation. Illumi likely coveted him too closely for Gon to have caught a glimpse. But…
Killua's anxious nausea bubbled against an unfamiliar, fluttery feeling. His lips twitched. Yes, being seen like that was humiliating. Worse than humiliating. It was— vulnerable. So why did it make him so… happy?
Gon had never abandoned him. He didn't give up, no matter the situation. Even after being kidnapped and needled. Even after getting a free ticket to run away. Even after seeing Killua reduced to nothing but a puppet for his sick family's whims— He came back for Killua over, and over, and over.
Wow… Was this really what it meant to have a friend?
Killua was going to yell at him so much once everything was over. Gon was far too reckless! Everything he did was practically a death sentence. Was he suicidal!? First at the exam, and now—!
Mike's hackles suddenly rose, nearly jostling Killua to the ground.
"Mike?" Killua started, surprised. He glanced around. They weren't circling the path anymore. Mike had stepped off it, coming to a stop before a fork in the stream. His nose twitched as it passed over a gnarled clump of roots. Killua leaned over him, trying to peer down into the darkness snared beneath it.
There in the hollow was a flash of vibrant green. Too green to match the pine needles and dark oaks. A familiar, vibrant green. Killua's eyes were pinned to it. He leaned forward, thighs straining to keep him from losing his balance. "Did you find—?"
The branches rustled. A leaf fluttered down between his eyes.
DANGER.
He wasn't alone! Killua whipped around, claws out. He wouldn't go down without a fight, regardless who it was!
He blocked a hit to his face and dodged a kick to his knee.
Killua didn't manage to stop the snag of something hooking into the back of his shirt.
It tore him off Mike with enough speed that he accidentally ripped up a handful of the hound's fur. The hound jerked, startled. It whipped around with teeth bared. Killua barely avoided his massive jaws snapping closed where his foot was as he sailed away from him. Something whizzed back his cheek and smacked Mike's muzzle, making him rear back with a snarl— but Killua didn't get the chance to see what. The thing attached to him yanked hard, sending both him and his attacker rocketing through the canopy.
The needle only screamed louder as the hound was left behind.
Killua tried to twist midair to see his opponent. Did one of the butlers see them after all? Did Illumi realize he was gone? But the needle pulsed in artificial fear, screaming that he was in danger, to run, to flee—
The air forced out of him in a choking huff as his back hit the bend of a branch. A hand, blistering hot, forced his shoulder down against the wood. Killua didn't let the impact make him falter. He twisted like a snake, lodging his knee against his attacker's stomach and flipping them. The claws on his bad hand screamed as he drove them into the wood beside the stranger's throat. His other hand reared back to strike.
A warm hand caught his wrist. It didn't stop him. This person wasn't strong enough.
This person…
GET AWAY.
Killua blinked hard, trying to breathe. The needle continued to scream in his head made it hard to think, hard to see, but he knew that hand. He knew this warmth. This person…!
GET AWAY FROM HIM NOW.
"Killua," Gon said, eyes flinty with determination, "Where is your needle?"
"Gon," Killua gasped. He strained to see through his spinning vision. The needle was going absolutely haywire in his head. Adrenaline was shooting through him. His whole body was violently wracked with goosebumps. He was shaking like a leaf, so tense it hurt. It took everything to stay still when his body— When the needle— screamed at him to run. "Gon!? You're— you're here— I—"
RUN.
He grit his teeth, words cutting off with a sharp noise of pain. It felt like he was being electrocuted the longer he was pinned under Gon. His friend's hands glowed hotter and hotter, until Killua felt as if they were blistering him where they touched.
The needle screamed and screamed. Killua couldn't think. "Let— Let go," he was unable to bite the words back. The world was dissolving into noise. His spine went ramrod straight as the needle trigger another sharp burst of adrenaline through him. It was like being repeatedly struck with lightning.
RUN!
Gon faltered. His face pinched, an odd expression swimming between concern, pain, fear, and anger muddying his features into a poisonous soup.
Killua shook his head, lungs heaving uselessly. Every word felt as if he were reaching into his chest to get enough air for it. He thrashed in panic. "Let— No! D-Don't let go! No, I— Fuck, I can't! The— The needle— It's making me—"
RUN!
Killua spasmed. His muscles went tight, tendons threatening to snap.
His body was moving without his consent.
He managed a jerky shout of Gon's name. His friend barely managed to duck in time to avoid having Killua's claws through his head. The needle screamed with the opening made between them. A gap in arms and hands and chests just wide enough to fit, for Killua to throw himself at and flee—
Gon grabbed at Killua as he leapt. They careened out of the tree, limbs flailing. Gon's face, in that split second of being airborne, was raw, molten determination. They twisted as they fell. Gon's back hit the grass with a thud. Killua feinted to the left and launched himself right. But his knees buckled under him. The strain of the needle was too great, overloading his synapses— He face-planted in the grass and kept moving, near blind in panic, the world spinning faint and fast. Gon's hand was a burning shackle on his wrist.
"Where is it!" Gon shouted, glare blazing over Killua's arms, his chest, his face, "tell me where he put the needle!"
His other hand reached for him. A shadowy, looming thing. Killua's brain was short-circuiting. Why did he have two hands? Something was wrong. Gon had two hands, and he was using them both. Why was that weird? What was going on? He couldn't think! That hand reached for him. It grabbed Killua's shoulder and pushed him down against the grass. It reached for his face.
Illumi's hands. His long, porcelain fingers. The flash of thin steel. The rush of joy he didn't know. The certainty that he was going to be violated. The recognition that he could do nothing about it.
The needle screamed at him to run. Killua agreed.
Killua could barely hear Gon's words. He snarled, thrashing like a cornered animal. Gon hacked wetly when Killua's knee buried itself in his gut. His golden eyes unfocused. Spittle splattered Killua's cheeks. He swayed sharply to the side, barely catching himself before he could topple off of him.
Yet his hand didn't even twitch. It was as if Gon's fingers had welded shut around Killua's wrist.
RUN.
Nothing short of tearing the limb off would free him. Killua couldn't escape.
RUN!
He could not run.
The certainty in him changed, evolved— Killua was going to die.
ACT OR DIE.
Killua went blind and deaf. His brain entirely shut off. All that was left was a feedback loop of panic. A rush of static replaced his heart pounding in his ears. His entire body flushed lava hot. The world was reduced to flashing colors and urgent need.
The order blasting in his skull transformed.
SURVIVE.
He had no other choice.
Killua reared back and bashed his head into Gon's. The needle shrieked with the impact. Every nerve lit on fire in one white-hot moment. Killua cried out, seizing in shock. He lost precious seconds to the backlash, the wash of nauseating agony that forced its way through him like sludge in his veins into every organ, every limb, every nerve.
A smudge of green blurred around the undergrowth. Killua whipped his head up, trying to follow it. Bile rushed up his throat. Bright colors flashed behind his eyes and Killua gagged hard. He heaved painfully, hacking up nothing.
Gon's hand branded itself on the nape of his neck. Killua's trembling arms did nothing to stop him from shoving him back down into the grass, practically snapping like twigs under his weight. He was completely overloaded. His whole body was one open nerve. It was unlike any pain he had ever felt. Killua thrashed mindlessly against the ground.
"Where is your needle!" Gon demanded. His strained voice broke as he struggled to keep Killua down. He grunted in frustration as Killua bucked under him, nearly throwing him off. "You have to— tell me—!"
YOU CAN'T.
Killua let out a garbled scream. Fear and panic, none of it his own. There was grass in his mouth. Dirt under his nails as he gouged handfuls out of the ground. He was unable to stop even as his broken fingers shrieked in upset. The bones radiated pain like a struck bell with each clawing attempt to move.
FLEE!
He was trying! He didn't want to! He couldn't! "No!" Killua shrieked. He pushed hard at the ground.
Gon grunted as he was forced up, flailing to cling to Killua's back. His determination faltered. His eyes were wide, near manic with desperation. "Please," he began to beg. Killua gritted his teeth hard enough to break as tears welled up in his eyes. He clung tightly as Killua stood on teetering, trembling legs. "Please, please, please, just stop!"
Killua sobbed, thrashing his head side to side. He was trying! Gon's hands clasped tight around his front, holding on even as Killua whipped around and around, bashing them both up against trees. Blood smeared against bark. It was graceless. It was untrained and desperate and hurting them both. How was Gon still holding on!? How was he so much stronger than before!? How did his arm heal so quickly!?
It didn't matter. Killua was still stronger. He was far stronger, even as the needle barraged him. He couldn't gather enough of a thought to puzzle it out. He couldn't think, he couldn't plan. There was only acting, bolstered tenfold as the needle ravaged his senses.
Gon's legs swung up. His knees locked around Killua's hips. He held Killua tight enough for his ribs to creak. His hands clung to Killua's chest. His shoulders. His neck. His face.
The needle threw an absolute tantrum, screaming in Killua's skull nonstop. It got impossibly louder with every second Killua failed to dislodge Gon. Loud to the point he became deaf to his friend's words, his breathing, their fighting, even his own heart. The world narrowed down to the mantra in his head.
RUN-RUN-RUN-RUN-RUN-RUN-RUN-RUN-RUN
Killua stumbled sharply to the side. His shoulder slammed into something hard. He was blind and deaf to whether Gon was even jostled by it. Killua just forced his spasming hands forward. He dug the claws of both hands deep into the hard thing without regard for injury, unable to register as it splintered under his fingernails.
RUN-RUN-RUN-RUN-RUN-RUN-RUN-RUN-RUN-RUN-RUN
RUN-RUN-RUN-RUN-RUN-RUN-RUN-RUN-RUN-RUN-RUN
RUN-RUN-RUN-RUN-RUN-RUN-RUN-RUN-RUN-RUN-RUN
"Killua!" Gon cried.
Killua slammed his head against the tree.
His head was splitting. It was exploding open like a flower.
Good. If it did, the pain might stop.
Killua blinked wetness out of his sightless eyes.
Then reared back and did it again.
Again.
Again.
The needle yelled at him, voice thick with panic. Killua couldn't parse out anything it said, too garbled and drowned out by the ringing in his ears.
Ha! It couldn't tell the difference between him trying to smash his own brains in and Gon trying to help him. It was to the same ends. If Gon got him, no more needle. If Killua died, no more needle! Either way, his family lost. Illumi lost! He couldn't have Killua— Killua won!
Killua laughed, half-crazed, spittle and blood splattering the backs of his hands.
The needle shrieked at him to stop, but that was all it could do! The needle couldn't stop him— It could only scream. The stupid thing had so much power over Killua— Too much power! So much that it overloaded all of Illumi's careful programming!
He should have done this all along. All he had had to do, all this time, was suffer!
Killua was the best at suffering.
He was going to get out or die trying.
A thrill of adrenaline almost blanked out his mind for one glorious, painless millisecond.
Killua managed one more violent bash against the tree before it was pulverized by his grip. Wood snapped. Something under his hands gave.
That something was all that had been holding him up. Killua pitched forward. The forgotten weight on his back suddenly moved, jerking him sharply to the right. Killua might have made a sound somewhere beyond the roaring in his ears. His shoulder hit the grass. He wheezed, crumpling in on himself as he landed on his broken hand. Despite all the pain, the white hot shock of it was still startling.
Everything was pain.
He wasn't moving. The world spun anyway. His head hurt so much. His eyes went dark. Maybe they weren't open at all. His whole body was one throbbing, agonized organ.
Killua lost track of time. Long, long seconds stretched out that felt like moments or hours. Someone might have screamed. Something maybe touched him. Killua couldn't tell, too drowned in the rush of sensations roaring through him. He lay in the grass, gasping, unable to even roll over.
At least all the screaming in Killua's head had melted together. It was so loud it was almost quiet. There were no more words, no more orders. Just a loud ringing that left him twitching on the ground like a dying fish.
It was kind of nice. Killua let his head loll, breathing in as the cool grass touched his burning forehead. It was wet. Everything was so wet. Killua kept blinking rain out of his eyes. Why was he outside, again?
Warmth wrapped around his upper arm. Killua groaned as the pain spiked. Was it his body, or his head? he didn't know what hurt anymore. Just that it did. He let the person roll him onto his back, blinking idly upwards. His lashes were heavy. They struggled to let him blink, clinging to his cheeks as if sticky with glue.
The sky was green. And moving. It reached down and cupped Killua's cheeks, brushing away splinters. It made muffled, far-away noises. It brushed his bangs back.
Illumi…
Killua could barely even feel the fear anymore. Everything was utterly drowned out by throbbing, never-ending pain. Still, he twitched. A last, feeble protest forced through his body. The needle prodded his nerves to react even with nothing left to react with.
It did a fat lot of good. Warmth on his cheeks held him gently, but sternly. Killua's face turned back towards the green.
A buzz like a human voice mumbled over the din. It was familiar. Killua closed his eyes, trying to focus on its cadence instead of the ringing in his ears. His eyes were forced back open when he was jostled. The pain spiked roughly and he huffed, annoyed. He was in enough pain, now. The needle was finally quiet. He didn't need extra agony.
Still, his eyes were drawn back to the green. The hovering figure that was slowly starting to condense back into shapes that made up a human. A head, dark hair, a torso and arms. Hands that rested on Killua's chest, as if prepared to give CPR.
As he watched, blinking slowly, those hands moved. Not pressing up and down, like expected, but sliding up his chest. Up to his shoulders. Trailing over his neck.
Killua twitched as fingers glided over his vulnerable throat. The hands paused, but after a moment moved on. The nape of his neck was given special attention. Up into his hairline. His ears, his cheeks. His temples.
The needle sent an wordless order pulsing down his spine, making his knee jerk. The questing fingers froze over his forehead.
Run, the needle begged, a tiny, muffled demand breaking through the pain.
What a joke. He couldn't.
Killua tried to laugh and managed a single cough.
Surprisingly, the hands moved away. Something moved in his peripheral.
Killua's head turned, ever so slightly, away from the green sky.
His blurry eyes landed on two figures standing over him. Tall, dark blue. Bright yellow and blue. A sharp red, like the laser sight of two snipers. There was something familiar about it, something even foreboding. Who were they? Were they trespassers? Were they staff? It was weirdly ironic to him, somewhere floaty and distant, that he couldn't use the needle to tell if they were friend or foe. When had he started relying on it like that?
Well, he couldn't anymore. Killua was in too much pain to tell whether his feelings were from the needle or himself— The needle couldn't do more than make him twitch in place, anyway.
Even that hurt. Killua thought he might have moaned in pain. He couldn't hear himself. Couldn't hear much of anything; the figures voices hovered over him like a miasma. Were they arguing about something?
He didn't get a chance to try and tell anything further, flinching as they crouched down beside him. Killua's focus sharpened, pinning to the stranger. The man in dark blue loomed over him, moving frantically. It's hand hovered over his face. It touched his forehead.
Killua exhaled sharply. The nails on his good hand went sharp. They just as quickly sunk back into his skin. He couldn't even lift a finger. That was all the fight he still had in him.
Despite his fear, he was… glad. He didn't want to hurt anybody. He didn't want to kill. He just wanted…
The hand moved away from his head. It didn't make the pain lessen any, even as the needle calmed with distance. Agony pooled into the empty spaces the needle left. The reprieve was short as the hand returned, holding something small and white. Killua flinched as it touched his face. It was shockingly cold. Somehow even wetter than he already was. It rubbed his cheeks, his nose, even his chin. Gently, so light it could have been a breeze, it dabbed at his forehead.
…Cleaning him?
He blinked slowly, lashes sticky with blood. This… made sense. It had to be one of the servants. Gotoh, maybe. Killua trembled, teeth bared in a lopsided smile. He sunk into the grass, his body relaxing. He really was caught, then. He'd failed. Again. Hopefully, Gon had snuck away before they had arrived. He wouldn't get a third chance to do so. Killua wondered if he'd ever get one himself.
A shudder ran through him. Killua wished he could laugh.
His ears buzzed uselessly as sound floated over him. Gotoh turned to the other butler(?) barking something. The butler's blond hair was a blinding smudge of yellow as they settled on the grass by Killua's head.
The weight on top of him shifted. Killua wheezed, startled. He'd forgotten there was anything there. He'd been too busy trying to watch Gotoh. Hands closed around his wrists. The blond butler's elbows braced on his shoulders, keep them flat to the ground. Killua jerked. He dragged his lead-filled knees up, trying to move. His leg just flopped uselessly, as if he were trying to throw around loose weights tied to his hip instead of his own limb. A warmth washed over his thighs. The small figure on top of him settled back heavily in his lap, pinning his hips.
Killua breathed shallow and fast, the air whistling out of him in a whine. What was going on? Were they not even going to bother bringing him back to the manor, first? This wasn't normal! He squirmed, only getting more panicked as his restraints got tighter.
Warmth clamped around his cheeks, forcing his head still. Killua's eyes widened up at Gotoh, unable to look away as the butler leaned over him. His large hands reached for Killua's head.
His brain shrieked in protest and Killua had no clue whether it was the needle or himself.
Killua twisted hard. He pulled at his arms, kicked at the dirt. One hand actually managed to slip free— His bad hand, gone numb up to his elbow with agony— Killua forced those mangled fingers into claws. He swung wildly.
One of those small, warm hands left his face, instead grabbing him by the wrist. Killua snarled as it pushed his arm back down beside his head. He jerked, twisting his head away as something rushed towards his face. Was it going for the needle!? Was he being hit!? Which was it now—!?
Killua blinked, chest heaving and eyes wide, as something pressed against his mouth. He froze. It wasn't a gag. Wasn't even a hand. His mouth fell slack in confusion and the lips against his moved, warm and soft.
The last time he had felt this…
Killua was wholly distracted from his pain and panic for a solid second or two. Who the fuck was kissing him!? What kind of— Who was this?
Gon?
It couldn't have been Gon. No, even if the figure in his lap was wearing green. Even if their hands were so warm, too small to be an adult. Canary's hands were small, too. The younger apprentice butlers, male and female, had smaller hands. His mother's hands were small. She would never kiss him like this. The thought made Killua want to throw up. Only the familiarity stopped him— because he knew this feeling, knew this mouth against his, and yet it couldn't be Gon.
It made no sense for him to kiss Killua. Killua had done it, sure, but that was— it was to distract him! It was to help Gon get the needle out. And Gon wasn't here! Gon had run. He had to have, because he was in danger if he hadn't!
Pain stabbed violently through his head, sharper than even the screaming ache from before. Killua startled. He struggled, yanking his head to the side. A burning hand shot to his face, holding him so tightly it nearly dislocated his jaw. It kept him agonizingly still as burning pain, raw as a hot iron pressed to his skin, shot through his forehead. Fuck, what were they doing to him—!? He had gotten lost in the confusion of what was happening— Too lost to fight until it was too late.
Gotoh slowly pulled away. There was something in his hand. Killua's blurry eyes couldn't make out what it was beyond that it was shiny.
He didn't get enough time to figure it out. The stranger in his lap grabbed him by the face, shoving the other butler's hand aside to force his head back towards them. Their palms were burning hot braced on Killua's cheeks. He made a muffled noise when they kissed him again. A little less firmly, their teeth no longer clacking together— more just sliding their lips together gently. They didn't even seem to care if Killua kissed back. Just that he was focused on them as they kissed him. When Gotoh touched his forehead again, back with that damn white cloth, the smaller butler actually licked Killua's lips. When the familiar burn of disinfectant touched him, they bit Killua's bottom lip.
It was surprisingly gentle. All the same tips and tricks Killua had tried himself. He'd only ever gotten the chance to practice them on Gon, but still.
They kissed him so adamantly, for so long, that Killua's head spun a little when they finally pulled away. He struggled to catch his breath. The restraints fell away as they climbed out of his lap. Killua stared up at the sky. How long could this butler hold their breath!? Not even his family could just casually stop breathing for so many minutes! Even as Killua struggled to count, barely managing the split focus for it, nine minutes felt like forever.
The three figures bent over him, blocking his view. Gotoh slipped his palm under Killua's chin, carefully tilting his head back.
Killua flinched harshly as light suddenly blasted into his eyes. He whimpered, pulling away, but Gotoh held him firmly in place. His thumb stroked Killua's cheek. It trailed up, gently nudging at his eyelid. He hissed. Still, Gotoh didn't move away. He was used to his antics. Killua didn't fight as the butler carefully pried open his right eye, then his left, shining that hateful light into both of them.
He eventually pulled away, letting Killua melt into the grass. Their voices flew over his head. The ringing in Killua's ears was… better? More controlled, maybe? There was less of the needle screaming and more of just the tinnitus that came with a severe concussion.
It was practically a reward. If Killua knew beating his brains out would help sooner, he would have done it first thing.
Was that what Gotoh was checking for? A concussion? It wouldn't be the first time by far, though his technique was a little different than usual…
He struggled to stay focused on his thoughts. The disorientation from head injuries always sucked. Killua had a feeling if he tried to force himself to sit up, he was going to vomit. The world spun even as he lay flat on his back, unmoving but to breathe.
Killua didn't notice when the butlers went quiet. He only did when they moved, wincing as he was picked up. Gotoh lifted him with such gentleness Killua could have mistaken himself for glass. He arranged Killua's body with a sort of expert stiffness he could only associate with the older man— He carefully leveraged Killua's bad hand where it would be less disturbed, and cupped under the curve of Killua's skull to reduce the jostling from his steps. The butler was never unkind with him, but this was a level of delicateness Killua only maybe remembered from when he was a little kid. He could barely hear the butler speaking through the ringing, something about "bad", and "Mike", and "move".
Fuck, they were going to set Mike off after Gon, weren't they? The hound had his scent. He would find him in seconds. It was amazing the hound hadn't, even after Gon had pulled them both so far away. Gon was stronger, for a normal kid, but he wasn't strong enough to stop Mike. He'd last maybe two seconds before the giant dog bit him in half. He'd used up any luck he may have possibly had.
Killua flopped his arm across his stomach, shoving hard at Gotoh's chest. "Let go," he tried to say. "Don't." It came out garbled, barely loud enough to be above a harsh exhale. He wasn't entirely sure even that had escaped.
Gotoh looked down at him. Killua squinted but couldn't make out his expression. His eyes, nose, and mouth were just smudges on his face, smeared around like paints on a child's palette. His chest rumbled against Killua's side. None of the low words reached his ears.
Something touched his good hand. Killua's head whipped around, teeth bared. It only made the world spin sharply to the right. His teeth clicked shut around a gag. The light through the trees was making him too nauseous to keep his eyes open.
He wondered who held his hand. It was warm.
There was nothing he could do but let them keep walking. Gotoh carried Killua through the woods and Killua stared mournfully up at the sky, his heart clenching painfully. How long would he be punished for this stunt? It would likely be a long time before he was let out of the dungeons. Even after that was over…
Would he get a chance like this again, after Illumi "fixed" him?
Warmth brushed his face. Killua blinked out of his trance. He turned, starting when he realized he had let his head rest against Gotoh's shoulder. Something warm was pressed against his cheek. Killua looked at the arm attached to it. Traced it back to its source.
It was… green. A green-sleeved arm attached to a green-shirted boy. He had dark hair and dark brows and dark eyes. That hand moved up his cheek. It thumbed away tears Killua hadn't noticed shedding.
Killua blinked owlishly.
His neck clicked with the speed he looked back up at his carrier. The same smudges for dark eyes, dark brows, thin glasses. A burst of adrenaline puttered through him, fueled by newfound hope—
Killua reached up and nearly smacked the man.
He jerked his head away, yelping loud enough for Killua to feel it, but didn't stop him from touching. He leaned in, even, giving Killua an easier reach. Killua's shaking fingers brushed a narrow jaw. High cheekbones. Sharp nose.
…The man was missing the dark tuft of hair Gotoh kept on his chin. The shape of his glasses was wrong. The curve of his eyes was wrong.
Killua's heart beat a little faster. He looked over at the bright yellow-blue-red "butler". He looked at Gon.
"Holy shit," he slurred out.
Why…
How…
What the fuck were Kurapika and Leorio doing here?