Chapter Text
It has to be Killua. It cannot be anyone else than him. I really need you to hold the ball, Killua.
“Tch.”
Killua ran his nails under the bandages covering his hands, scratching hard enough to draw blood. It had been three days since the most intense dodge ball game in the history of dodge ball games, and it still hurt so much that he had thought about asking Bisky to knock him out for a few days.
It had been worth it, of course it had. And he was trained enough to resist pain that his face only showed the slightest annoyance whenever he moved his fingers. It was necessary : Gon had to focus on the upcoming fight, and there was nothing to be done about his hands anyway. Showing any weakness would just lessen whatever trust Gon had in his capacities, and would draw the usual ‘I told you so’ lecture on Bisky’s part, both things he could go on without, as far he was concerned.
I really need you.
He felt a the familiar warmth that he now associated with Gon settles in his stomach. Killua wasn’t like Gon. He could not say that. It wasn’t even about showing weaknesses, it wasn’t because he thought Gon wouldn’t value him as much if he uttered these words, or that he would see him differently.
He just couldn’t.
“Ah, Killua, you’re here ! Look what I got from the shop in Antokiba ! ”
Gon suddenly appeared in front of him, his too-bright smile lightening up the rest of the world as usual. He put two large mugs filled to the brim with a red, sparkling liquid.
“What is it ?” Killua frowned, half-curious and half-worried about this peculiar drink. “Also, aren’t you supposed to work on your technique ? You need to be as ready as possible before…”
“It’s okay, Bisky gave me a break” Gon said ( did she ? Killua doubted that somehow ), “and this is a regenerative potion. This is the best I could find but it’s supposed to help with physical damage and exhaustion !”
Killua fought the urge to grimace, already feeling pain that would rush through his hands when he would move them to seize the glass and to bring it to his lips. Because of course he was going to drink it.
Of course he was.
“Thanks” he said, turning his face into a mask on stone.
But before he was able to move an inch…
… Gon put a straw in his own mug, then another one in Killua’s. His eyes had the color of competition and determination when he looked at his best friend again.
“Race to see who is able to drink the fastest ?” He says, before sticking out his tongue.
Killua feels his eyes widens, and the warmth in his stomach spread through the rest of his body - suddenly, his hands don’t hurt as much as before.
I really need you. He probably will never be able to say these words aloud, he is almost sure of that.
But that’s okay because Gon seems to be able to hear them anyway.
He offers him his smuggest smile.
“The loser gets 500 push-ups !”