Work Text:
Gon perches on top of the gnarled root, thick as a school bus and slick with moss. Underneath him are layered caverns, carved out by Whale Island’s old growth forest, stretching on for miles uninterrupted. Hidden below are rotund moles, the occasional foxbear, and, currently, a thief.
Gon yelps as his shock of white hair pops back up. Killua smiles at him tauntingly, his cackle wicked and goading. He lifts up Gon’s hat and waves it around.
Gon pushes off and practically soars through as he chases after Killua, who’s laughing as he jumps from root to root.
“You’re going to break it, Killua,” says Gon, breathless but still eager to play the game.
“It wouldn’t be in any danger if you’d just let me have it.” Killua glances back to see if Gon’s is keeping up and smiles at the shrinking distance between them.
They break through the tree line and race across an open field. Gon manages to catch a hand on his shoulder, and they both go tumbling into the long grass and wildflowers.
Gon ends up on top, an open hand on Killua’s throat.
A tingling chill races up his arm. He’s flipped on his back, and his head impacts with the ground. Gon gasps at the pain. His vision flashes black.
And then it’s over.
Killua hands are frozen and tight on his arms. Gon wriggles.
“Shit, shit, shit,” hisses Killua, pulling Gon up so he’s sitting. “Are you okay?”
The world dapples back into colour and form. Killua catches Gon by his shoulders when vertigo tries to pull him down.
“Gon, can you hear me?” asks Killua, his voice shaky but commanding.
Gon hums an affirmative.
Killua pulls Gon forward and Gon rests his chin on Killua’s shoulder, closing his still blurry eyes as Killua runs a hand along the back of Gon’s head.
“Does it hurt?” asks Killua.
Gon shakes his head. The ache hits him all at once, radiating out from the base of his skull and collecting as a pounding pressure behind his temples. Gon sucks in a breath.
“Maybe a little,” he says.
Killua helps him to his feet. Gon clings to the front of his vest.
“We’re going back,” says Killua.
“I’ll be fine,” says Gon, trying to break away. Killua lets him go, reluctantly, but Gon only gets two steps before Killua has to catch him from crumpling to his knees.
“You are not fine,” says Killua.
“It’s just a bump,” says Gon.
Killua growls his frustration as Gon tries to push him away again. This time he doesn’t let go, and Gon is too dazed to gain the upper hand. After a few moments of struggle, his motivation to do so wears out anyway.
They stand in the middle of the field, Gon upright only because Killua has a vice grip around his arms and chest. Everything looks fuzzy. His head hurts, blood pounding in his ears with every move or jostle. The light is too bright.
“Ow,” says Gon lamely, covering his eyes with his hands.
“I’m sorry,” says Killua, anguished.
“It’s okay,” says Gon. “Let’s go home.”
He leans on Killua, who keeps asking him about the different mushrooms they run across. It’s longer going back than Gon remembers it being.
“How much further?” he asks.
“Half hour, I think,” says Killua, readjusting his arm. “Do you not recognize it?”
Gon looks up into the canopy, and over his shoulder at the path they’ve come from. He definitely recognizes it, he thinks.
“Can we stop for a bit? I’m tired.”
Killua flinches. “No.”
“Killua,” whines Gon.
“You need to stay awake for now, okay? At least until we call and talk with Leorio.”
Gon yawns. Killua starts them walking again.
They’re back out in the open again and it’s too bright. Mito asks too many questions. Gon tries to answer, but Killua, mercifully, takes over the talking. Gon is passed off and Killua runs to call Leorio. Mito walks him the last stretch of the way, up the hill home.
“What happened?” she asks, shaking fingers brushing over the back of his head.
“Hit my head.”
He can envision the watery smile that accompanies the sigh she gives him. “Well, I knew that already.”
He sits on the living room couch and Killua kneels in front of him, making uncomfortably unwavering eye contact as he talks with Leorio. Gon glances down at the floor to avoid the intensity of it.
“Gon, is your headache getting better, or worse?”
“It’s bright.”
“What?”
Gon waves his hands in front of his face, fingers splayed open.
Killua looks over his shoulder for a moment and shares a look with Mito. She moves to shutter the offending windows. Killua looks back to Gon.
“Is your headache getting better, or worse.”
“Better,” says Gon. “Can I sleep now?”
Killua repeats the question to Leorio. Gon starts to nod off waiting for the answer, loud and scratchy through the phone, to end.
When Killua speaks again, it’s to address Mito, not him.
“Someone needs to be with him all the time for the first couple days in case his symptoms get worse, but otherwise he just needs to rest.”
“Is he sure we don’t need to go to the doctor?”
Killua shrugs. “Not yet, at least.”
Gon falls asleep on the couch. It’s a fitful, uncomfortable sleep, and he’s half-woken by pain every time he moves his head. He feels trapped in his semi-consciousness, and his dreams repeat, brassy and vile, leaving him nauseated and anxious.
Abe is sitting across from him in her rocking chair, a half-finished scarf pooled in her lap, when Gon finally forces himself awake to escape from it.
“How are you, love?” she asks.
Gon tries to sit up and regrets the idea as soon as his headache returns. He lies back down as gently as he can.
“Where’s Killua?”
“Mito made him sleep,” says Abe. “Do you remember waking up before?”
“No.”
Abe’s nose wrinkles. “He had to step back for awhile. And then I made her sleep, too.”
Gon gets up, eventually, and goes to the washroom before making himself and Abe tea. He almost falls back asleep while leaning on the counter, waiting for the water to boil.
Outside, the sky is a soft blue dawn that seems just slightly fuzzier than usual. Gon holds his hand out as far as he can and slowly pulls it towards himself. His eyes don’t seem to be able to catch onto it.
He sighs.
Clarity is slowly returning to his glazy thoughts. He remembers the fall, and the look in Killua’s eyes. It had only been for a split-second, but they had been bleak and vacant. It wasn’t the first time Gon had seen it, but it was the first time they’d been staring at him.
He brings Abe her tea and sits down on the coffee table, resting his elbows on his knees. He’s tired, in a deep, earthy way. Nodding off seems so inviting, but the ache in his back and between his shoulders tells him he’s been out for long enough.
Gon isn’t particularly motivated to move around, though, so he ends up sitting on the ground beside Abe, his head leaned back against the loveseat, a silver rose scarf slowly growing in his lap.
“When did they go to sleep?”
“A few hours ago. Why?”
Gon closes his eyes and sinks deeper against the chair. “That’s good. It’ll be loud once they’re back up.”
And once Killua’s up, at least, they’re going to have to talk about it, and Gon doesn’t want to talk about it, he just wants his headache to go away and his eyes to clear up.
He’s afraid that Killua will be afraid, that Killua will shut him out and pretend he’s fine out of guilt. Just thinking about it makes him ready to crawl under the table and close his eyes. Reading Killua is tricky at the best of times, and right now Gon can still feel the latency in his thoughts, his hands.
It’s uncomfortable, like he’s pushing through molasses. Gon picks up the scarf and squeezes it. It’s the kind of soft that usually makes his palms burn with excitement, like tightly coiled springs are layered right underneath his skin, but now he can barely feel it at all.
Abe runs the backs of her fingers down his temple and Gon leans into the touch.
“It’ll work itself out,” she says.
Gon hopes she’s right. They’ve been through worse and come out stronger for it, but this is different. It’s proof that the irrational fears haunting Killua aren’t entirely unfounded. Gon knows Killua would never want to hurt him. He just hopes Killua knows that, too.
Mito is up first. She tries to fuss, bombarding him with questions he can’t even process before she’s moving on to the next, flustered hands running through his hair or pressing on his knee or leaning on his shoulder. Abe gets her to carry away her nervous energy to the kitchen, and for that Gon is grateful.
It still hangs in the air though, the anxiety and fear. It’s infectious, crawling up Gon’s spine in shivers. She slams cupboards too hard and clacks forks too jarringly. Gon covers his ears with his hands and squeezes his eyes shut.
Abe gets up from her chair. Five minutes later, after a hushed conversation Gon doesn’t care to try and make out, the front door opens and closes with soft clicks.
“She’s just running out to grab some food,” says Abe, sitting back down. “Kitchen might be a little much right now.”
Gon hums his gratitude.
Killua arrives not long after that. There are bags under his red-tinged eyes, and his hair is stuck out at odd angles. He glances at Gon with weariness, before giving a weak smile Gon knows is genuine.
Abe gets up to make him tea, and refuses Gon’s request for a second cup.
Killua sits down beside him on the ground and bumps his shoulder against Gon. Gon leans into the touch, and Killua slowly defrosts, until his head is rested on Gon.
“I’m sorry,” he says, quietly enough that Abe won’t hear them.
“Later,” says Gon. “I’m not upset, I just can’t think great right now.”
“Is it getting better or worse?” asks Killua, with a forced non-chalantness.
“Better.”
“That’s good.”
Killua picks up his hand and rubs his thumbs into Gon’s palm. Gon hums happily.
“I love you.”
“I love you too,” says Killua.
Abe returns and the three of them sit in comfortable silence. Killua and Abe chat idly, and Gon finds himself nodding off. Killua offers they actually sleep, and Gon leaps at the offer.
The stairs are tricky. Gon holds the rail and Killua hovers at his back despite Gon insisting he’s fine. He huffs impatiently and refuses to mention it when Killua has to reach out and steady Gon with two hands around his hips.
The blankets on Gon’s bed aren’t touched.
He scowls at Killua, and Killua gives a guilt shrug before leading Gon across the room by the small of his back.
“That’s why you look like shit,” says Gon, changing out of his grass-stained day clothes into sweatpants and a t-shirt.
“Rude,” says Killua, pulling back the covers and scooting over to the wall so Gon can squeeze in beside him, which Gon does, before leaning over to press a chaste kiss to Killua’s lips. He pulls away but lingers close for a moment, and Killua reaches a hand to the back of his neck and pulls Gon forward so their foreheads are touching. Killua sighs, and Gon suddenly feels the need to wrap his arms around Killua’s shoulders and squeeze as tightly as he can, so he does.
When they finally untangle from each other, Gon is asleep before his head hits the pillow.
His dreams are a scattered mess again, and Gon eventually forces himself awake just like before. Judging by the light, it’s mid afternoon. Killua is still asleep, so Gon does his best not to move. Killua’s a notoriously light sleeper, though.
“Hey,” says Gon, when Killua blinks his eyes open. Gon realizes with a start that he can see the twists and snarls in the blue of Killua’s irises.
Killua groans and turns his face into his pillow. He mumbles something that could have been good morning.
Gon closes his eyes and yawns, before stretching his arms up and arching his back. Killua, begrudgingly, sits up beside him.
“How’re you feeling?”
“Tired,” says Gon. “But my eyes are better. And the headache is almost gone.”
Killua nods, tight and thin lipped. “Good.”
Gon sits up and touches their knees together. Light, glowing and striped by the half-closed blinds, falls over Killua’s arms and legs. Gon reaches out to hop between the patches of brightness, pretending his fingers are legs.
Killua snorts a laugh, and Gon smiles with him.
“I really am okay, you know,” says Gon.
“You’ve certainly had worse.”
Gon wrinkles his nose. Thinking about all that leaves a bad taste in his mouth. “Yeah.”
Killua rubs his hands over his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he repeats.
“Me too,” says Gon. Killua’s hands drop, clutched together and tense.
“What?”
“I scared you,” says Gon. Killua opens his mouth to argue but Gon cuts him off. “We aren’t talking about whether I meant to or not, Killua.”
Killua pouts in annoyance and glances away, his profile backlit. “It doesn’t matter why—”
“Yes, it does. You didn’t mean to, Killua.”
“That doesn’t make it any less dangerous,” says Killua, his tone suddenly turning clinical and detached. Gon hates it. “I could have killed you.”
“Yeah, you could have,” says Gon. Killua stiffens. “So could, like, Mito, or Abe. Accidents happen all the time.”
“This is different,” says Killua.
“How?”
Killua looks up at him with pleading eyes, then buries his face in his knees.
Killua is quiet for a long time as Gon fights against the nagging daze that’s fraying his attention. His mind is willing to dance around thoughts, but can’t reach out and grab them, solid and living, without strain. He has to say something though, because Killua is locked behind the shield of silence he never seems to be able to put down for long.
“Please don't leave.”
“I didn't say that,” says Killua.
“But you were thinking it,” says Gon.
Killua's head snaps up, eyes wide. “Gon.”
“At least not until we talk, okay?”
“We’re talking right now.”
Gon gabs his mouth at that, trying to wrangle words onto his tongue. They slip and wriggle away from him, wisping off into the atmosphere of his mind. Gon presses the heels of his palms into his temples, frustration stewing into frantic anxiety in his chest. He feels trapped and slow, like he’s trying to sprint on dry sand.
“Promise not to go.”
Something in Killua’s eyes shifts. He sighs, and holds up a pinky. Gon locks with it quickly, worried Killua will renege on the offer.
“I promise not to go before we talk,” says Killua.
Gon nods, his mouth pressed in a thin line.
That afternoon they walk out to grab Gon’s hat, forgotten where Killua dropped it. Killua plops it back down on Gon’s head.
“You win,” he says, without the usual grumble.
Gon smiles shyly. “Pity victory.” Usually that would wound his pride, but right now Gon doesn’t particularly care.
They take a break on one of the roots before starting back. Gon ends up dozing off with his head in Killua’s lap. It’s the first thing that’s felt truly restful, and when Killua nudges him to wake up Gon yawns and wishes he’d had five more minutes.
The fluorescent lights in the kitchen are harsh, so the four of them eat reheated leftovers in the living room. Gon sits beside Mito, pulling faces at her whenever she glances at him with sharp, critical eyes, looking to spot any sign that he might be unwell. He eventually gets her to laugh, which lifts a weight off his shoulders.
Killua insists on doing the dishes. The soft clack of clay plates chimes from the kitchen as Mito and Abe trounce Gon at Hearts. Usually he’s pretty good at counting cards, but tonight it’s near impossible.
Mito smiles as she tallies up their scores for the round. Gon groans, resting his chin in his palm.
Killua leans against the door jamb and watches them for awhile before announcing he’s headed off to bed. He gives Gon a quick peck on his forehead, and then Mito one on her cheek when she pouts at him.
Gon stays up for another two hours, until keeping his eyes open becomes too exhausting to manage. He grips the rail hard on his way up the stairs, but most of his vertigo has passed.
Killua is still awake, sitting on the bed with his elbows rested on the frame of the open window.
“Can’t sleep?” asks Gon.
Killua shakes his head. “Just didn’t want to play cards.”
“Oh.”
Gon stands awkwardly, his toes digging into the thick carpet, feeling as though he’s intruding. Eventually he manages to tear himself away from looking at the back of Killua’s head and goes through his routine. Killua doesn’t move, not even when Gon pads up behind him, nervousing his thumbs together.
He waits for a few moments, but Killua doesn’t acknowledge him.
“Is something wrong?”
Killua hides his face in his crossed forearms. Gon crawls onto the bed, slow and cautious, holding his hands out halfway.
“Killua?”
Killua sighs, weary and deflating. “My brother knew this would happen.”
“What?”
“He said I’d want to kill you someday, just to see if I could. Way back when we first met.”
Rage. It’s sudden and blinding, licking inside his chest and up his throat and behind his eyes. Gon’s hands curl into fists. He wants, not for the first time, to destroy Illumi.
“That is not what happened.”
“What difference does it make, in the end?”
“A really big one! You weren’t trying to kill me, and you didn’t want to kill me. So that isn’t what happened, and you aren’t who your brother said you are.”
“That’s not what—I mean, I know that, but… shit, Gon, I was so scared. You froze, your eyes weren’t moving, I thought—I thought—”
Killua cuts himself off with a growly clearing of his throat and sinks further into his own shoulders.
Oh.
Gon wraps his arms around Killua’s waist and presses his cheek into Killua’s shoulder.
“I’m okay.”
Killua nods weakly.
They sit together until long after the far off docks have fallen quiet. Mito and Abe have retired to their rooms, and outside, the summer sky is black and twinkling. A lonely howl calls out from the woods.
“Killua?”
“Mm?”
“You’re staying, right?”
The next morning, when Gon blinks himself awake, his headache is almost completely gone, and Killua is still asleep on his arm.