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It starts before Killua can even try to grasp what's going on around him.
It's almost inevitable, and mesmerizing, his brain throws at him, but he shuts that small, giggling voice before it can become anything more than a soft whisper plaguing him.
Gon looks at him, all rough edges and shy touches of his hand against Killua's.
Gentle movements that feel natural and premeditated, maybe even unintentional, Killua would dare suggest, if it wasn't for the shine in Gon's eyes that can only be compared to that of the stars twinkling in the night sky, and despite the heavy and comforting sense of belonging that courses through him, Killua could pass out from the amount of blood that has been rushing to his face in the past half an hour.
For the hundredth time, Gon turns to look at him with careful eyes, and all Killua can do is look away, hands shaking in exhilaration as his breath fails him once more, catching in his throat with a stutter, because no matter how many times Gon has looked at him with those adoring eyes filled with delight, Killua can never seem to get used to the natural warmth they radiate.
But Gon's gazes still burn into him, soft and alluring in ways only Gon can manage to express, in ways only he can use to twist Killua's insides to the point where he can no longer stand on his two feet, and butterflies fill him with a constricting feeling of ease and tranquility. The nature of safety, of home. Killua thinks fondly, and before he can even catch it, he smiles.
And of course Gon, as the simply marvelous idiot he is, smiles with twice as much fervor, his eyes wrinkling in that way that makes Killua's knees go weak.
"Killua." Gon says, shifting, the noise of the covers that lay on him the only noise in the dark room, and the sweetness in his voice makes Killua's skin tickle with electricity far stronger than any lightning storm could ever emit, as he looks into his eyes.
Killua never thought there could be as many ways to say his name as there were drops of water in the ocean, but with the passing years, Gon has taught him the wonders of letting yourself feel, and the different ways in which different tones of voice can change three syllables in such a drastic, and quite honestly, wonderful way.
He might never admit it out loud, but by far, his favorite is Gon saying his name in between puffs of laughter whenever they tell silly jokes at 4 am, whispering, even if there is no one else to wake up in the apartment they share.
"Gon." he answers, looking at him, feigning disinterest, but Gon beams so brightly Killua knows he sees through it, and he finds that he doesn't mind all that much to be caught.
"Will you dance with me?"
A huffed breath in surprise rolls through his throat.
"Excuse me?"
Killua can barely contain the shock out of his response, his eyes growing wide with the unexpected question, words lingering softly in the air, dandling, like dust. Killua could see through them if there was any light in the room, he's sure.
Gon smiles even more.
And stars, whenever Killua thinks he can't smile wider, he's wonderfully proven wrong by this piece of sunshine in front of him.
"Yeah! Dance with me!" He exclaims, voice barely more than a breeze that envelops Killua with delirium, because it's three in the goddamn morning, and they're already in bed, just waiting for sleep to take over them. So much for any hopes left of getting sleep.
The absurdity of it all makes Killua snort, followed by a laugh that makes his lungs fill and expand, leaving a pleasurable burn in his abdomen.
He expects to open his eyes and see Gon pouting beside him, but when he does, he's only staring, and it's way more raw affection than Killua can handle. He just knows it. So, he flushes, and avoids the gaze that makes him flood with love until his eyes become cloudy with a softness that's intoxicating beyond measure.
"Stop looking at me like that!" Killua exclaims, and despite his better judgment, he giggles, and that only worsens when he can hear Gon's laugh echo with his own in a harmony so meticulously right his bones ache deeply, and he can't quite place if it's from the rumbling laughter, or the quiet, unintentional adoration that has been so everlasting Killua knows it's dug deep like roots within his lungs, beating with the same rhythm as his heart, the very same Gon's own heart possesses; steady and sure, never backing down. Never fading, never breaking.
And the laughter fit is over, but Killua's eyes settle on Gon's face, still calm with joy, and his heart pangs with longing -is it even possible to yearn if you're already in a relationship, Killua? How hopelessly in love are you? he asks himself- just as strong as to make his heart give a flutter inside his chest, so he takes Gon's hand in his, relishing in the feeling of how right they feel against one another, like pieces of a puzzle that come together, fitting and meant to be.
They have always been like that. It makes his chest contract, that thought, and so, he makes a decision.
"Okay." Killua whispers and looks up. He's met with brown eyes, soft and familiar, and it tugs, and tugs, and tugs at his limbs, at his heart, and at the very tip of his trembling fingers, until their noses bump gently and he no longer has control over his body. "Let's dance. Even if it's three am, and you’ll definitely be complaining tomorrow during breakfast."
Gon smiles, and leans his forehead against Killua's.
It's unspoken, as they get up from their bed, and head downstairs to their kitchen, because it's the only room in the house with enough space for them to move around without needing to worry about knocking over more portraits with photos of them and their family than they can count with two hands, and homemade ceramic pots of all colors holding plants all around the place, -You really can't blame Killua. To quote, Gon wanted "to bring the woods inside their home.", and who was Killua to say no to him?- scattered around in a messy way, but just organized enough to not be, well, a disaster.
“Okay… are you prepared?” his voice sounds soft, softer than he intends when he commands it to come out of his throat, but it often happens. It’s a side effect of being in Gon’s presence, Killua has come to notice after all this time. He would be lying if he said he minds, though.
“Aha!" Gon grins. He pulls out his phone and clicks on it various times before music is flooding the room. It's a gentle piano, notes that echo as they're played until they're softly surrounded by the sound of violins and flutes so calm they could bring Killua to tears with their hopeful melancholy. "I was born prepared, Killua!"
The discreet sound of the celesta contrasting against the chords of the piano fills his ears as it camouflages with the rest of the hidden instruments throughout the song, and Killua closes his eyes and breathes deeply.
Gon knows how much he enjoys this piece, humming it to himself during quiet and peaceful nights unintentionally, or singing along to it as he lays on Gon’s arms, hands in his hair, and his guard let down.
The melancholy and quiet tone of the melody transforms with the intense power and energy of a waltz.
He can't help but smile, as his arm is tugged into a messy pirouette. He laughs because he's allowed to because he's with Gon because he's happy. And he knows he deserves to be. That everything, as long as he's beside his light, will be okay.
Killua takes Gon’s arm, softly, and if his mother was here, she would without a doubt scream and cry in horror, because This is not the proper way in which you dance a waltz with someone Kil!, but Killua knows he feels more throughout this dance -even if it’s all over the place, really- than he ever did with the lessons he was taught, in which, no matter how graceful his movements were, they were dry, and shallow a mere weapon.
They could never compare to the amount of emotions this fills him with, the compelling tenderness he drowns in as he’s surrounded by the warmth of Gon's strong arms embracing him, with no judgment or expectations being placed upon his shoulders, as he holds him softly like Killua would break like porcelain with a wrong touch like he deserves the gentleness you would use when taking something precious into your hands.
And the way in which Gon, and only he is capable of reading his thoughts will never cease to amaze him, because his face is being cupped with Gon’s hand, so carefully as his gaze locks straight with Killua’s.
He can only smile, honest, and smitten in a manner that probably makes him look like an idiot, but he can't help it, and Gon, in return, gifts him the same lopsided grin.
It makes Killua's stomach fuzzy, like they're silly teenagers again, sharing their first dance under the moonlight with the breeze blowing on the cliff they stand at, the very same one in which years before they promised to follow each other to the edge of the world, hand in hand, and it’s intoxicating, with the smell of salt from the ocean that envelops them both until they lose track of time in genuine laughs, and the sun begins to taint the sky with pink dusting as it rises, proclaiming the start of a new day. A new beginning.
Killua doesn't think he will ever stop feeling that way when he dances with Gon, to the same song, with the same strength to his feelings swimming in his blood, in his heart, boiling and gleaming as they burn, but never consume into themselves, unbeatable and unbreakable in the most unconditional of ways.
He decides, he is very much fond of the way his heartbeat speeds up, and the way Gon's does as well, in tune with his own, as they always have been.
Together, against anyone or anything that could try to pry them apart, because at the end of the day, they come back to eachother, like magnets, with a force , pushing, pulling like the tide.