Chapter Text
june 2, 2018
It was for a few broken bones when he first arrived at the city hospital.
Gon wasn’t a stranger to things like fractures and sprains — he had developed thickened skin striped with calluses, and firm limbs from the injuries he had accumulated like playing cards throughout his years. “Sturdy like a tree trunk,” Aunt Mito would tell him as she pressed into his back, kneading away the knots in his tired muscles like wet dough after a long day in the forest. “but reckless like a feral animal.” It truly was humiliating how he couldn’t deny he could be a little reckless, especially since his current dilemma was because he had tumbled off a tree like a limp sack of potatoes while hunting for bugs.
A broken right arm and a sprained ankle accompanied by a container of pills; nothing new, but enough for the doctors to generously grant him a bed in the hospital, which wasn’t that necessary. He could easily recover in the favourable comfort of home — where he could stare out his window through his ivy green frog curtains while savoring his favourite ceylon black tea stirred in with honey — but he had already gone through the trouble of riding an ambulance all the way to the main town square for simple treatment (he and Aunt Mito lived very far from the central facets of town) and relying on Aunt Mito to pay for everything. He might as well rest up here for a bit before heading back.
“You need to be more careful, Mr. Freecss, honestly,” he listened nonchalantly as the doctor, with a scowl, told him a phrase he hadn’t heard for the first time. He had memorized the feeling of pristine hospital walls, the cast being fastened to his arm, and the sound of painkillers clinking together in a tiny, translucent lime green bottle (Gon wasn’t sure if it was a good thing that he could remember so much, or a bad thing that he’d been to the hospital way too many times for a normal 16-year old boy).
What could he say? He was left an unsupervised, heedless kid for most of his toddler years without a proper parental figure. Before moving in with Aunt Mito in her humble cottage on the edge of Whale Island’s seaside for a good portion of his life, he would be left in a crib in his absent father Ging’s apartment while he was out and about. He couldn’t remember much, but he could recall an abundance of pizza boxes; piles upon piles of cardboard casings, stacked like thick mountains. He found it a great mystery; how Ging managed to keep both him and Gon alive during those times.
Living with Aunt Mito was a phenomenal improvement to his life — every night he came home to a warm feast and simmering bath prepared carefully by her. She was everything Ging wasn’t as a parent, and soon enough, Gon started considering her the only mother he needed. Aunt Mito was composed like a delicate hymn, fixed with soft touches and a gaze that could put you at ease with a single look.
Oh, how he wished to be home in her presence right now.
Once the doctors seated him into a wheelchair (another unnecessary thing), they rolled Gon into a sterile room, lit by white daylight pouring in like rivers between flimsy curtains hung on the windows. They slipped him into his thin sheets with a lecture and even more scowls, advising him to relax before setting up the last of his things and rushing out the door to assist some other patient. He couldn’t blame them; some broken bones were definitely not the worst matter they’ve had here.
One month. A reasonable quantity of time for his leg to at least heal (the doctors were well-aware of Gon’s immaculate way of healing), but damn, it really made Gon impatient.
He inhaled the robust, somewhat bitter air deep within his lungs and somehow, it felt impermissible for a reason he couldn’t unearth. It was heavy, fogged with foreign smells he could taste in his mouth. Maybe it had felt strange because the air was never this dense with the smell of drugs and topical creams on Whale Island.
Gon could easily admit to himself and anyone else that the mainland could never, in a million years replicate the charm and comfort Whale Island provided. It was a fishing port, acting as refuge to fishermen at sea. It amassed lush, verdant hills wrapped with layers of colourful greenery and various flora and fauna, with wistful blue skies that stretched so far past the horizon it melted in with the ocean. It was home to Gon.
But it was only practical for fishermen deep at sea. It acted as refuge to those lacking in supplies or gear, like a gas station on the flank of an isolated freeway. Friends his age weren’t plentiful, and stores easily went out of business (unless it was a fishing business. Fishing was quite literally Whale Island’s entire thing). So he understood why Aunt Mito decided to move them to the edge of Yorknew City; Gon could find friends more easily, and they were a little closer to the mainland’s better resources.
His fuzzy stupor was interrupted when he heard a weak cough coming from the other side of his bed’s curtain. Gon hadn’t realized until now that someone else was with him in the room; a very strange thing, considering his senses had always been awfully sharp since his early years.
With a slow, careful hand, he pulled back the curtain to catch a glimpse of this mysterious person he failed to notice. (Why was he doing this? Perhaps for a reason he didn’t remember, or maybe curious instinct? Gon had always been bold, but even he knew this was borderline stupid)
It revealed a boy with lanky, pale arms that looked like they could snap off like toothpicks, and profound eyes that stared straight into his own.
He glared, hard. He was like a lynx prowling about their prey in stagnant circles, testing the small animal — who, in this case, would be Gon. He didn’t seem friendly, but it didn’t stop Gon from prying. He looked so... ethereal. He looked about Gon’s age.
“Can I...” the boy started, narrowing his eyes as if picking a fight (Gon was not interested, he couldn’t bring himself to fight such a pretty boy). “...help you?”
Gon sat in silence for a few seconds, despite the uneasy feeling in the air around them. “Hello.” he started, fighting the urge to gulp so he didn’t appear nervous. “I didn’t notice you when I came in.”
He raised his eyebrows, and Gon couldn’t tell if he was amused or unimpressed. He was undecipherable, and it captivated Gon even further, his mysterious ambiance pulling him in a gentle embrace — immersing him the way a drug would.
“It doesn’t seem like this is your first trip here,” he remarked, turning towards Gon a little more.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Just a hunch, I guess. You sound very casual, you aren’t nervous.”
Gon wondered if that was good or bad. Perhaps good? He doubted that; this coercing teen couldn’t be complimenting him, although he quietly wished for that outcome very much. “Oh, I see. Maybe because it isn’t.”
“Huh. How did you get them?”
“Get what?”
“Dumbass, the broken bones.” he snapped. He appeared presumptuous and straightforward, painted in smooth strokes with the tinges of night like hanging shadows at the edge of a dark hallway. He focused his eyes onto his clean casts.
Gon leaned back into his pillows a bit, not breaking eye contact with the boy. “I fell off a tree.”
That seemed to get his attention. “Really? A tree of all things?”
“Uh... yes?”
A snicker escaped the boy’s lips, but it was hasty and he quickly grimaced after letting it out. Gon wondered why he did so — he found his laugh a little cute. “Why were you in a tree?” he asked once more.
“I was looking for bugs.”
As if the boy’s snicker wasn’t enough, Gon learned that his soft giggle was even cuter. It was short, simple and sweet, reminding him of the pleasant aroma of homemade shortcake and from that point on, Gon was completely smitten with this boy of pale skin and skinny arms he was sharing a hospital room with.
“Bu- bugs..?” he stuttered between his laughs. “That’s- that’s so cute, a-and childish—”
Gon didn’t know how long he watched him giggle like a baby (to him, it felt impossibly endless — like infinity within a single second), but for as long as he did, he gawked at him as his eyes crimped and he bent forward, struggling for air.
“I never really liked bugs,” he told him, tilting his chin down at a modest angle, wearing fond eyes that made him look like he was reminiscing. “I wasn’t afraid, I just didn’t see any appeal in catching them.”
“Well, it’s fun — fun for me, at least.”
“I can tell, since you’ve earned some nicely broken bones because of it.”
Gon rubbed the top of his nape as if sanding it, looking down in slight embarrassment as he laughed at himself awkwardly. “I wouldn’t have fallen if the butterfly didn’t fly away.”
This sent him into a quick giggle fit once more, all before asking as he gasped, nearly breathless, “Hey, what is your name?”
Gon could feel as a large smile overtook his mouth, tongue dry and mind racing. “I’m Gon, Gon Freecss. Can I ask for yours?”
The boy hesitated — his eyes had widened and he had placed the tips of his fingers to his mouth, as if he spoke without permission. Gon watched as he fidgetted with his narrow digits, the creases soft and his nails cleanly cut. He seemed uncertain, as if he was about to risk something of significance. A skeptical pout exhibited itself on his slightly chapped lips as Gon waited for a response; anything so that he could keep talking to this strikingly pretty boy.
Was he scared? Gon was always told by his great-grandmother his direct honesty and acute awareness of his surroundings frightened other kids. He could comprehend why she’d say such a thing — he had always been just a little superhuman. He could sense when someone was sneaking behind him, or when a kid was lying to him, which would grant him a boisterous reputation for being the “weird” kid in class — but that was when he was a toddler, still a resident of Whale Island (his aptitudes, however, hadn’t faltered one bit over the years). He was a teenager, and this boy clearly was one as well. He could take some chances.
He was, once again, knocked out of his reverie when the boy spit an uneven cough.
“You don’t need to know my name.”
“Eh-? Why not—?” Gon’s mouth tripped over his words, his sentence a thin rope of stammering about to snap.
“You... don’t want to be associated with me. Let alone be my friend.”
“But what if I do want to?” Gon answered a little too quickly, feeling the slightest increase in temperature spreading like wildfire along his cheeks.
The boy’s confused eyes — resembling polished sapphire — shifted to the floor, pondering long before again looking far into Gon’s pupils. His gaze was a chain, strangling Gon by the neck.
“Give me a nickname.” he requested firmly.
“Eh—? Why?”
“Friends are supposed to have nicknames for each other, right? Give me one, unless you don’t want to be my friend.”
Gon mulled over his options, hard and determined. “But I can’t give you a nickname, you haven’t given me your name yet.” he whined, only earning a peeved scoff.
Then the idea struck him.
“Can I call you ‘pretty boy’?”
The boy’s eyes enlarged to the size of dinner plates as he jerked away — so dramatically his bed quivered, the blanket falling halfway down his thigh. He sported a rich shade of red across his cheeks, contrasting with his pale hair in a manner that caused Gon’s heart to tremble, his breath coming to a halt in his throat.
“That’s—! What— how did–!?” he sputtered as he attempted to cover his warm face with the back of his hand (Gon made sure to made a mental note to stick to the inside of his skull that this boy got flustered easily). “That's so weird! Why would you want to call me that?!”
“Because it’s true! You’re really pretty!” Gon grinned, big and bright.
He heard a small groan before the boy relaxed back into his pillows, tugging up his blanket to drape over his nose. The boy looked away sheepishly.
“That’s embarrassing, just... ugh, just call me Ki.”
“Ki? That’s your name?”
“Yes— well, not exactly. It’s a shortened version of my name. That’s all I’m giving you.”
Gon grinned again with delightedly clenched fists; he’d finally obtained the name of the pretty boy in his hospital room! Although, it wasn’t his entire name, but he was firmly set on figuring it out in the days to come. “Nice to meet you, Ki!” he said, leaning towards him. “I’m so excited to be friends with you!”
Ki squinted a wary glance at Gon’s smile. It was genuine, bursting with sunshine and tasting like warm honey. His hair was bizarre to say the least — sticking out in all sorts of directions, and a messy arrangement of freckles was laid out like a carpet across his face. Most of all, he seemed so... strangely curious in him. The notion stunned Ki; nobody was ever this attracted to him, drawn in like a fly to a lamp.
“Hey, if it’s okay with you, can we play a game?” Ki looked as Gon raised his smoothly tanned finger, bashfully offering his proposal. His hands looked heavy and hard around the edges — but at the same time, appeared soft and gentle. Gon’s hands were an oxymoron.
“What kind of game?”
“It’s simple!” Gon tilted his head with an optimistic smile skipping along his face. “Within the one month I’m here, I have to guess your name.”
Ki raised a tentative eyebrow. “Is there gonna be, like, a prize or something if you guess it?”
“No prize! I just think it’d be fun,” Gon said, his smile an unwavering force of nature. “Unless... you count your real name as a prize,”
Ki pounded his fist onto Gon’s head hard enough to knock some sense into him, irate and flustered. “Idiot! If that’s the case, what do I gain, then?!”
“Ow, that hurt!” Gon whined. “Hmm...” he pondered as his head remained still under Ki’s fist. “A friend! Your prize is me being your friend.” Gon smiled up at Ki and it felt like an encompassing snowstorm of warmth and tenderness caressing Ki’s entire body.
“What happens if you don’t guess it within a month?”
“You still have to give me your name!”
“What?!” Ki exclaimed; guess his small punch earlier wasn’t able to clear Gon’s brain. The game didn’t make sense, Gon didn’t make sense. He couldn't even begin to grasp this boy’s thought process, how he made these strange decisions. Gon’s next words, however, appalled him enough to render him speechless.
“Even if I don’t guess your name right, I still want to be your friend! So promise me you’ll give me your name in the end no matter what!”
“What if I don’t want you to be my friend?!”
“Well, do you?”
Ki gaped, his lips in a loose “o” shape and his voice paralyzed with shock, almost in amazement.
Nobody wanted to know about the pale boy in the hospital with snow-white hair and arms that could totally pass as pipe cleaners.
“Fine, have it your way, stupid...”
But this excited, extroverted boy named Gon wanted to know. And maybe, just maybe, he’d let him know a little bit.
Gon’s new mission: guess the name of the pretty boy he shared a hospital room with within one month.