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Killua holds a hand up to shield his eyes from the late afternoon sun. Seagulls swoop overhead, and on the pier locals chat by the lines to their crab traps. The traffic hum from town is dull, washed away by the slosh of ocean waves.
Gon hops down towards the water. The black rocks encrusted with barnacles crunch under his boots, and his skirt—the one Killua got him after he mucked up one of Alluka’s—billows in the easy breeze.
He pauses and looks back, squinting and smiling wide. The sun reflects off the water behind him, dazzling as glitter.
Killua finds himself smiling back. He isn’t sure if Gon is pulling off the floral orange paired with emerald green, but it’s cute in a distinctly Gon way regardless.
“Hurry up,” says Gon, continuing his march down to the water’s edge. Killua limits his protest at being bossed around to an eyeroll.
The rocky beach is empty save for them. The boulders and slim, seaweedy shore are unappealing to the tourist crowd. Which, technically, they are, but it’s the kind of folksy town that Gon slips into as though he’s lived there all his life.
Tide pools held by the rocks like water cupped in hands are filled with translucent crabs, no bigger than Killua’s pinky, fishy things with hooked appendages, and flat critters that blend into the rock. The water reflects the sky, so Killua peers down into his own shadow as he walks through them, shoes left up on the sea wall. The myriad of darting residents flutter out of his way with every step.
He closes his eyes, basking in the salty air and refreshing water. He was skeptical when Gon insisted the town, one he’d visited with Abe and Mito when he was young, nothing more than a blip on the map and a fork off the main highway, would be a nice place to catch their breath between jobs. He’s starting to understand the appeal now.
Killua picks a shell out of a clump of weeds. It’s ridged and lilac, and makes a clack when he flicks it. He’s wants to make a wind chime for Alluka’s birthday, but realistically it’ll end up going to Leorio, the only one of his friends with a fixed address to hang it at.
Gon shrieks and Killua looks up in time to see him land on a rock cut off by the rising tide. Choppy waves break around it, splashing Gon to his shins.
“You’re going to ruin your boots.”
“The barnacles hurt,” complains Gon, skirt pulled up and bunched around his knees.
Killua rolls his toes. Sorta, he guesses.
“You’ll have to walk around barefoot for a day while they dry.”
Gon pouts. He grumbles something under his breath as he leans to unzip them.
“I’m sorry?” asks Killua, trying to keep his smile from creeping too far.
“Nothing,” says Gon, chucking the first one at his head. “I just said I’m so lucky Killua isn’t a cheeky asshole.”
“That is lucky,” he says, catching it effortlessly.
Shoes safe far from the water, Killua joins Gon on his little island. He flinches when frigid water splashes on his bare skin, climbing himself up to the peak of the rock.
There’s barely enough room for both of them to stand, a problem Gon solves by hopping down with a splash.
He sucks in a sharp breath. “Cold!” Gon barely catches himself from falling face first into the surf when a wave washes out, tugging at his knees. “And spiky. Cold and spiky!”
Gon looks up at him, smile genuine but frazzled.
Killua frowns, unsure whether to intervene. Gon makes the decision for him by lifting up his arms expectantly.
“Thanks,” says Gon, fighting off a shiver as Killua sets him down.
They return to drier dry land.
Gon walks along the shore and Killua sits down with his feet in a pool.
The sleek fish are fast, but he’s faster. Killua holds one in his cupped hands, marveling at its iridescent scales. It’s silvery, similar to the fish Kalluto kept in his room when they were young.
Killua releases it.
He digs through the weeds and finds more lilac shells, as well as a crustacean friend that has to be coaxed into letting go of his throbbing finger.
Gon is up to his ankles in the waves again, jumping from foot to foot and laughing all the while. Killua grins openly and it goes unnoticed by his partner, who bends over to look at something in the waves.
Killua leans back. The barnacles dig into his back when he moves, so he lies still, letting the wind tousle his hair and dry his legs.
They have three more days of lazing before they need to move on. Killua wishes it was longer—three days is hardly enough time to catch his breath, especially with the prospect of a tricky job ahead. Nothing that should kill him, in theory, but tricky regardless.
He sits. Gon is scouring the pebbly beach, an air of intensity about him.
“What is it?” he asks, pushing to his feet and walking over.
Gon’s eyes light up, the same way they always do when Killua asks questions.
“There used to be a pottery factory right by the shore,” says Gon, pointing to what is now a line of restaurants and tourist traps. “They made bowls and plates and stuff. And when things turned out bad, they would just chuck ‘em down here.”
“Oh?” asks Killua, picking up a slimy piece of seaweed with his toes. He tosses it at Gon, who yelps and jumps to Killua’s other side, smacking his arm on the way.
“Hey!” says Gon.
“Sorry, sorry,” says Killua, not at all even a little bit sorry.
Gon huffs. He turns his nose up and strides onwards with conviction but no actual destination in mind. Killua jogs to catch up.
“Anyway, when stuff turned out bad, it ended up on the beach. And then the water and the rocks smoothed it all down, and now—” Gon bends down and pops back up with a chip in hand “—smooth and pretty! Just like Killua!”
Killua snorts, covering up his smile. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
Gon nods vigorously. “You’re right. You’re never smooth.”
Killua’s smile sours. “Hey,” he grumbles, accepting the chip when Gon passes it his way. “I could romance the hell out of you if I wanted to.”
Gon sighs, tilting his head back and pouting dramatically. “I guess you don’t want to, then…”
“No, hey, watch me.”
Gon lifts an eyebrow, smile cheeky and daring.
“Shut up. Here, look, I can, tonight—”
Gon tilts his head.
“Stop that.”
“Stop what?” asks Gon, feigning innocence.
Killua frowns, waving his hand in front of Gon’s eyes. “Your face.”
“I have no idea what you mean,” says Gon, putting a finger to his lips. He tugs ever so gently.
Killua opens his mouth to try and argue but his blush creeps down his neck and chokes him. He groans and hides his face as Gon laughs at his expense.
Gon wraps around his shoulders. “I love you.”
“You’re the worst.”
“But you love me!” Gon giggles.
“Unfortunately.”
Gon slides off, ducking in to peck Killua’s cheek before returning to chip collecting.
The one in his hand is faded and scratched, and not much bigger than a guitar pick. Along the smooth edge is a delicate pattern of birds and flowers. He flips it over, and scowls at the greeny tinge.
“It’s kind of—”
“We can bleach them,” says Gon, squatting right by the waves, plucking up buried pieces. “And then you can use them for—”
“The wind chime,” says Killua.
Gon looks over his shoulder, and for a moment his eyes flare golden and Killua can hardly breathe.
He drops the chip in his pocket with all the shells. “Thank you, Gon.”
Gon springs over to add his handful of found treasures to Killua’s collection. “You never say thank you.”
“You like hearing it.”
Gon’s eyes widen. His cheeks flush pink.
Killua bites his tongue as Gon rests his forehead on Killua’s shoulder.
Killua laughs, clasping his hands behind Gon resting them gently on his hips. They sway, back and forth, slow and rocking as the sea.
“Hey,” says Killua. “Why don’t we ditch Alluka tonight and go someplace.”
“That feels mean.”
Killua winces. “Somehow I don’t think she’s going to complain about having the room to herself for an evening.”
Gon nuzzles closer. “Is this because I said you weren’t smooth.”
Killua is relieved Gon can’t see the surprise on his face. “Not at all. Just… this is nice. And you’re nice.” Killua punctuates his point with a kiss on top of Gon’s head. Gon leans into it. “And I wanna take you somewhere nice.”
“Careful Killua, you’ll spoil me,” says Gon, pressing a kiss to his neck.
Killua looks up at the crowded boardwalk. His blush returns with a vengeance. “Right. Yup.”
Gon laughs.
They poke through the rocks shoulder to shoulder, Gon rambling about how the factory went bankrupt when rail lines moved and the brief second life it had as a cannery before its eventual demolishment. Killua listens intently all the while.
The stroll ends only because it has to. The setting sun bleeds into the water as Killua’s phone buzzes and Gon pouts, shoving a last couple chips into Killua’s pocket as he picks up the call from Alluka, asking where they are.
Killua sits on the boardwalk railing as Gon wrastles on his damp boots.
Gon bites his tongue as he does up the zipper. It’s an expression that erases the weight of experience that’s weathered him like the waves have the clay chips.
Killua’s living a time he knows he’s going to miss someday. His smile twists melancholy as Gon bounces upright, and the fleeting ache passes.
“So where are we going?” asks Gon, tilting his head.
Killua blinks. “I honestly didn’t think that far. What’s even here?”
Gon boops him on the nose and Killua scrunches up his features. “It’s cool,” says Gon, smile easy. “You know a guy.”