Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You dreamed of me?

No, I thought of you.

***

Gon—how have you been? Alluka has spring break next month and she and Nanika have been pestering me about a vacation. I know you’ll be in the area—want to meet up?

***

The first thing Killua notices, after they break apart, is how deep Gon’s voice is. The second is how broad his shoulders are, and the third, finally—Killua’s taller than him now.

Around them, the sounds of the airport terminal return—Alluka stands a little off to the side, her hand to her cheek.

“Hi,” Gon says, the first to break the silence. He’s smiling, his hands warm weights on Killua’s shoulders. He has, rather impossibly, even more freckles dotting the bridge of his nose. “I missed you.”

“Hi,” Killua chokes out. His own hands rest in the bend of Gon’s elbows—despite the green leather of Gon’s jacket between them, he can feel warmth under his palms. “Hi, Gon.” He’s smiling, too. “How’ve you been?”

***

Killua dumps the suitcases—all four of them—in front of the unlit fireplace of their little beach cottage.

“Wow!” Gon says, not an ounce of judgment in his voice.

“Half of it is the girls’ stuff,” Killua defends anyway.

“That is such a lie,” Alluka says, still scoping out the kitchen. Killua can hear the eye roll from here.

“Whatever,” Killua says, but he catches Gon’s eye and grins. He will not be shamed for having a sense of fashion, thank you very much—a fact that everyone here knows quite well. He needs variety, unlike Gon, who seems to have graduated from the one outfit he wore when he was twelve to the one outfit he wears now at nineteen. Green leather is…a surprisingly good look on him, paired with the faded cargo pants.

Killua rips his eyes away from how the jacket sits on his shoulders and clears his throat. “Anyway. Let’s just get unpacked. I’ll take the couch, since apparently I’m the one with all the baggage.”

“Uh-huh,” Alluka snorts. Okay, yeah, he walked into that one.

“Killua,” Gon says, and hell, even if his voice has deepened, there’s still that same whine to it. “The couch is uncomfortable—I’ll take it.”

Alluka returns from the kitchen, sweeping her bangs out of her face. Due for a haircut soon. “Gon, don’t be ridiculous,” she says, not unkindly. “Let him take the couch, or we’ll be here all day.”

Gon, true to form, continues to be ridiculous. “I’m serious,” he says. “I really don’t mind—I’ve been sleeping in the back of Kite’s truck the past year; this’ll be an upgrade.”

“Gon,” Killua begins, and it occurs to him that the shape of his voice is one he hasn’t made since Greed Island. Exasperated and fond, not so much facing Gon’s stubbornness as he is curving around it. Not giving in—not yet. “You know that I can sleep anywhere, right?” Like suspended from my family’s dungeon in chains he doesn’t say—somehow, he knows that’s not going to earn him any brownie points.

“Yeah, of course I know,” Gon says with a frown. It’s strange—he’s standing kind of…still. Like he’s holding back from saying something, too. Perhaps it had been kind of a silly question; of course Gon knows that.

Oh.

The realization dawns slowly, more a thought that spreads than strikes. He can’t read Gon right now—has no idea why he’s hesitating. The room suddenly feels very cold, as if the screen door were still open, chilly spring wind draining the warmth from Killua’s hands.

The last time he couldn’t recognize Gon—well.

Alluka pads over to prod at the cushions. “Well, I suppose I could always—”

“No,” they say in unison. This, at least, they can agree on.

The moment breaks, and Gon smiles, slowly. His face is more filled out now, his jaw squarer, but it’s him—it’s him. The realization finally sinks in, after the hour car ride from the airport with Gon in the backseat, the dust from his last mission with Kite still in his hair: five years and his best friend is standing here in front of him, smiling like no time has passed at all.

Warmth returns instantly, suspiciously fast. Shit.

Gon holds out his hand. He has several new freckles splashed on the inside of his wrist, and a scar Killua doesn’t recognize across his knuckles.

“Rock, paper, scissors?” he asks.

Gon somehow wins, because of course he does. He used paper, Killua rock, and with a cheer he flings himself onto the sofa, launching the too-brightly-colored throw pillows to the floor. “Oh, it’s cozy,” he says, grinning up at them. “You should be jealous.”

Killua rolls his eyes; Alluka giggles. “C’mon,” he says, hefting his bag. They all graciously pretend that he isn’t smiling, and for once Killua is glad that Nanika is asleep—she’d definitely point it out.

The house is small but cozy—just behind the couch is the kitchen, and just past the couch lies a little hallway with three doors—two bedrooms and a bathroom between them. The walls of the house are all the same seashell gray as the smooth stones of the beach just a few hundred steps away; there’s even a little balcony down the hallway with a gravel path to the water.

After Killua drops his stuff off at his room—the one closer to the backdoor (this way the girls’ room is sandwiched between him and Gon, not that he’s expecting any home invasions)—he steps out onto the balcony to survey their small backyard. Like the rest of the plant life, it still seems to be recovering from winter. The grass is pretty much dead, but there’s a garden sleeping just behind the wooden fence, barely high enough to be called a fence. The air is cold and bracing; it feels good on his face. He can hear the waves on the shore, regular as breathing.

Not for the first time, he wonders if this had been a good idea. Texting Gon. After the World Tree, they’d kept in touch sparingly, a text every few months. Birthdays and selfies every now and then. The last they’d seen each other was at Leorio’s graduation party, but even then, there hadn’t been much time—he and Alluka had an airship to catch early the next morning; Gon could only stay the evening because of Hunter stuff with Kite. They had hugged, and joked, and elbowed one another, but it had felt like acting out the past, not starting something new. There had been no time.

Well. Now there was time, apparently. More time than Killua could’ve hoped for, and yet.

“Two weeks,” says a voice, and Killua turns.

Gon comes to stand next to him, rubbing his hands together. Killua frowns—since when does Gon get cold? “It’s not much time,” he says, putting his hands in his pockets.

This kid. Always able to read his mind, even now.

Killua scoffs out of habit, looks down at his sneakers. “Yeah, well,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Blame it on the fancy school Alluka was smart enough to get into.”

“She’s growing up well,” Gon says. An agreement. “She’s even prettier than when I last saw her.”

Killua’s neck shoots up so fast he’s surprised it doesn’t snap off his shoulders. “Oi. What the hell does that mean?”

Gon just laughs, that same carefree thing in his voice that Killua remembers. “I’m just saying you have very reason to be proud of her. Of both of them.”

The emotion swirling in his chest—part protectiveness, part panic, part something else he refuses to identify—simmers down. Gon does not want to date his sister. “Damn right I’m proud,” he says gruffly. “They’re both growing up way faster than they should. She’s already sneaking out at night, and Nanika gives me shit all the time.”

“How does she manage that?” Gon asks, laughing. “The sneaking out part, I mean. You’re very easy to tease, even for someone as sweet as Nanika.”

Killua clears his throat. He ignores the comment about being easy to tease—his sisters and Gon are really the only people who get to do that, and that feels…weird to say out loud. “I, uh. Maybe followed her. Only when it was dangerous.” Which was always, he doesn’t say. He glances at Gon, whose expression is a mix of amused and horrified. “Relax, relax—she totally caught on. Yelled at me right there in the middle of the street—I’m much better about it now.”

And he is, although it pains him to see her go out sometimes—what if something happens? The biggest threat, Illumi, fucked off somewhere to the Dark Continent with his pervert of a clown husband (Killua has no idea why, not that he’s complaining), and his contacts would let him know if the asshole so much as stepped foot back here. But still. There are horrible people out there—and yeah, Alluka can defend herself and Nanika well enough, Killua’s not so overprotective that he won’t teach her as many self-defense moves as humanly possible.

But again. Still doesn’t hurt to be a little cautious.

“Well, you have good reasons to be worried,” Gon says.

Killua blinks. Gon is…agreeing with him?

“But,” he continues—ah, there it is, “I’m glad you two figured it out.” He looks out, towards where the sound of the waves echoes up the shore. He leans on the railing, jacket snug around his shoulders. “It must be hard. I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like for Aunt Mito, that first time. Even now, it’s probably really hard for her, to see me go.”

Killua…doesn’t know what to say to that. Yes, Gon has always been honest to a fault, but there’s a depth to this kind of honesty; the words don’t sound like they mean everything he’s saying. For the second time today, Killua feels off-balance—he had been prepared for cheerful Gon, excited Gon, but this—Gon not saying everything—this is new.

It must be hard for you, too goes unsaid, but they both hear it.

“Yeah,” Killua finally says. He wonders if the space between them—about a foot of cold air, has widened. It seems he has some adjusting to do—to this new Gon.

Gon turns to look at him, his eyes crinkled as he smiles. “I like your hair,” he says, apropos of nothing. He makes a little twirling motion with his finger near his ear. “It looks good. You look good.”

That is…huh. Killua goes to touch the blue hair tie that Nanika made for him last summer. It’s one of several—he keeps pretending to lose them so she’ll make more. His hair nearly touches his shoulders now—he had meant to cut it along with Alluka’s, because sometimes it gets in the way when he cooks.

His ears burn, and he is very glad for his beanie. “Thanks,” he mumbles. He glances down at Gon’s own hair—it’s shorter now, still spiked, but more the length that Ging’s was, from what he can remember. His jacket, now that he looks closer, looks faded and worn, a dull luster that comes with frequent wear and tear. How long has he had it? “I, uh. Like your jacket.”

“Aw, really?” Gon straightens up, grinning. He bumps Killua’s shoulder with his own. “Thanks, Killua! You wanna wear it sometime?” He doesn’t say anything else—instead, he raises an eyebrow, as if daring Killua to say yes.

Is…is he flirting?

Fuck, Killua’s definitely blushing now, his beanie doing absolutely nothing to hide the flush on his cheeks. He turns quickly to the door to head back inside. “As if. Too big for me, probably.” And, well, shit, now that just sounds like he’s been ogling Gon’s shoulders, which, to be fair, he has. But still.

“Okeedoke,” Gon chirps. “Just say the word. I think you’d look great in it.”

His eyes are wide and earnest, and Killua relaxes. He’s not flirting. He’s just Gon.

Killua shakes his head. “Yeah, yeah.”  Just needs to adjust to Gon’s…everything, is all. It’s been a long time. Nothing weird going on here. “Let’s go get the girls and find something eat. I’m starving.” It’s an obvious subject change, but Gon nods, and relief floods Killua.

What is happening?

As he passes by the mirror in the hallway, he tugs at the end of his little ponytail. Maybe he’ll keep his hair long. Just to try it.

***

They find a noodle shop just down the road.

The town is quaint and touristy, with colorful buildings and a warmth that permeates despite the chill of early spring. The streets near the beach are lined with shops and green lamps that glow warm light on the cobbled sidewalks. Their rented house is only a few minutes’ walk from the lively town square, which, judging from the covered stalls whose tarps flap in the fading evening light, is a farmer’s market.

The place kind of reminds Killua of the Greed Island towns—minus the death game, of course. In a strange moment of sense memory, when Gon holds open the door for him to the noodle shop, he finds himself thinking Book.

But the sensation fades; they cross the threshold, which is busy with the evening dinner rush, and a hostess shows them to their booth. Out of habit, Killua sits across from Alluka. Gon, perhaps also out of habit, sits next to her across from Killua, looking around with a broad smile.

“This place is so cute,” he says. He glances at a menu. “Dessert section looks good, too.”

He’s right—they have three kinds of chocolate cake.

“So,” Killua says, once they’ve ordered—he got a spicy soup, because it’s chilly outside. “What did you find online, Alluka?”

Alluka nods. “Well, there’s that festival I was telling you about, but it doesn’t start till next week. Whatever y’all wanna do until then sounds good to me.” She takes a sip from her water. “There’s an aquarium and a ferry ride that looked fun.”

“Hmm…” Killua checks the weather on his phone—tomorrow will be sunny, and the day after that there’s a slight chance of rain. “Maybe ferry ride tomorrow.”

“What’s this about a festival?” Gon asks.

Alluka shows him her phone. “This town is famous for their whale watching festival.” Gon’s eyes get big and wide. “It’s five days, and on the last day there’s a gathering near the water.”

“Wow,” Gon breathes. “These pictures look amazing—are those cliffs?”

“Yep,” says a voice, and they turn to see their waitress. She puts three bowls down in front of them. The food smells heavenly. “You guys here for Homecoming?”

“Homecoming?” Killua says, already blowing on his spoon.

The waitress, a young woman with short, dark hair and a beauty mark in the shape of a…maybe a duck? near her temple, smiles. “Happens every year—the whales in the area all come back to the area to spend the spring and summer here.” She refills each of their glasses. “It’s the busiest time of year for us, so if you want a boat, you’d better rent one soon. Or you could watch from the cliffs that you see on your phone there—they’re just outside town. Don’t need to rent anything to watch from there.”

Gon slurps his noodles. Killua has no idea how someone can chew and talk while still sounding charming, but he’s somehow doing it. “Can you see them from that far away, though?”

The woman smiles. “It’s not so much about seeing them as it is hearing them,” she says. “Trust me. On the water or on the cliffs, I guarantee it’ll be worth your time.” She finishes topping off their water. “Enjoy your food.”

“Well,” Killua concludes, once she’s walked away. “Whale watching it is, then.”

“I just left Whale Island, too,” Gon says brightly. “What a coincidence!”

Killua coughs. “Yeah, totally.” He ignores the look that Alluka shoots him. Thankfully, Gon doesn’t see it, head in his bowl.

It’s not that he invited Gon specifically because the whale thing reminded him of Whale Island, but the association hadn’t slipped his mind, either. He shoots a look back at Alluka, one that says just because I’m an idiot doesn’t mean you have to point it out.

She smiles at him, a little fond, a little exasperated, which is somehow worse than if she had teased him.

Killua drinks his soup.

***

The next morning, they go to the harbor for the ferry tickets.

It’s almost as big as the town itself, the docks stretching out like fingers from the rocky shoreline. There are boats of all shapes and sizes docked—the largest big enough to cast a shadow all the way to the end of the street, and the smallest a fishing dinghy.

“There!” Alluka says, pointing at the booth.

“I can get them,” Gon offers, his wallet already out.

“Very funny,” Killua says. He starts walking. “You paid for dinner last night—” a very sore point on Killua’s part; he doesn’t know how Gon had snuck past him “—so this one’s on me.”

“You were the one who invited me,” Gon insists, matching Killua’s stride without missing a beat, because of course he does. “It’s only fair.”

“How is that fair? You can’t use that excuse for everything. Besides, this is Hunter job money anyway.”

“So’s mine,” Gon says, still smiling. It’s distracting—why is he smiling when they’re clearly arguing?

Killua is smiling too. Fuck.

“Okay then,” Killua sniffs. They’re almost at the booth. “How’s this—I pay for today, you pay for the next thing. Deal?”

“As long as I get to pay for Alluka and Nanika, too,” Gon says.

“Absolutely not. They’re my sisters.”

“And you’re my friend,” Gon says, and whatever comeback Killua had gets stuck in his throat.

“You—”

The woman at the booth clears her throat. “Excuse me,” she says, very politely. “But will you two be purchasing tickets today?”

“Yes,” Killua says. He shoves his card under the glass a little too quickly, but whatever.

She looks at the card, then at Killua. Then at Gon. Her eyes shift behind them both to Alluka a few yards back, no doubt laughing her ass off, based on the giggles she’s failing to stifle.

“Boys, don’t take too long!” Alluka calls in falsetto, and for a moment she sounds so much like their mother that Killua shudders.

“Okay,” the ticket lady says slowly, seeming to come to a decision.

She hands them two child tickets and one adult ticket.

Killua’s ears burn beneath his baseball cap. “Thank you,” he mumbles to the lady, then hightails it the hell out of there, towards the boats.

“What’s wrong?” Gon says, peering over his shoulder. Alluka comes to join them.

Without saying a word, Killua hands him the tickets. He knows he has a bit of a baby face, especially standing next to Gon, whose jawline is…very pronounced. But still. “Just…let’s get on the boat,” he says.

Gon laughs so hard Killua’s afraid that he’ll fall in the harbor.

Killua can’t even bring himself to be mad about it. Gon’s laughter has always been—is still—his favorite sound in the world.

“I still can’t believe,” Gon says, once they’re standing on the railing of the boat.

“Shut up,” Killua says. "She thought you were a kid, too."

"That's because I'm eternally young," Gon says, batting his eyelashes.

“To be fair, Brother,” Alluka says. She’s wearing her sunhat and sunglasses, every bit a young woman on vacation. No wonder the lady had thought she was an adult. “Even though you’re taller, you still have…a youthful look about you.”

This is unfair. Killua groans and folds himself as far over the railing as is safe, his head on his arms. “I’m nineteen.”

“Brother looks like a baby,” Nanika supplies helpfully.

“Nanika!” Gon says. They haven’t spoken since the car ride—Nanika had gotten a bit sleepy after all that time awake. She and Alluka have gotten better about having a schedule for who’s up and who’s not, but sometimes, on days like this, they’ll take turns. Gon’s taken to it like a duck to water, as unfaltering as ever in his acceptance of others.

It makes Killua feel warm, like he’s been lit up from the inside.

“Oi,” Killua says, still staring out at the blue depths of the ocean. Maybe if he falls in, they’ll let him drown. “Just because no one in our family grows facial hair until they’re a hundred doesn’t mean I look like a baby.”

“I don’t think you look like a baby, Killua,” Gon says. Killua looks up warily—he knows that tone. Gon is about to say something ridiculous. “I think it’s because your hair’s so long, and your face is really pretty. It makes you look younger than you actually are.”

“Hmm,” Alluka says.

“Wow,” Nanika agrees.

Yep. The ocean it is for Killua. “I am not—” he buries his face back in his arms, groans. “You know what, never mind.”

Gon just laughs.

They’re on the open water now, and the salty wind feels good on Killua’s heated face. The boat is fairly large, enough for two decks, and the other passengers—a few humanoid, a few not—bustle around and behind them.

“I’m going to go look around,” Alluka says wryly. Clearly giving them space. Oh, he’s gonna hear it from her later.

“Be careful,” Killua says automatically, and he ignores the eyeroll she most certainly gives him.

But despite the sass—“I will,” she says as she leaves, because they’ve both lived with Killua’s overprotective tendencies for years now, and eyeroll aside, this is the compromise.

Her footsteps fade, leaving only the sound of the wind.

Killua chances another look at Gon; he’s still standing next to him, his own arms folded over the railing. He’s looking out to sea, the wind in his hair.

He doesn't know how the woman had mistaken Gon for a kid—this morning, Killua had found his razor by the sink, and had to take one minute and twenty seconds to process the fact that Gon probably gets the same scratchy stubble as Ging.

How would Gon’s face feel after a full week of not shaving? Perhaps like sandpaper, although neither Killua nor Alluka shave, so Killua has no point of reference. He hadn’t been kidding about the Zoldycks not growing facial hair—he’s honestly convinced that Gramps somehow uses Nen. Maybe he’d ask Gon about it—surely after all they’ve been through together it wouldn’t be too weird. Right? After all…

Killua straightens up again, joining Gon’s silent consideration of the sea. It’s not like he can ask his dad or Illumi about this kind of stuff. The past few years have been a joy, yes, to raise his little sisters as best he can, but sometimes he wonders if he ever missed out on raising himself. Not that he had much of a childhood to begin with.

He chances a glance at Gon and finds that he’s already looking at him. He wills the heat in his cheeks to back down.

“What’s up?” he asks. Always best to just go for the direct approach with Gon.

“Nothing,” Gon says, his hand in his palm. Despite the relaxed slope to his shoulders, his eyes are focused. “Just thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

He gets a little kick for that, dodges it without missing a beat. Oh, how he’s missed this—their back-and-forth, the banter. Despite the years between them, it’s good to be back at Gon’s side again.

“I was just wondering what Kite and the gang were doing,” Gon says. “Right now they’re on a hunt for a new species of rabbit in the Mimbo Republic. Kite texted; they say hi.”

“Hi back,” Killua says, smiling. “You’ve been with their team for…what, two years now, right?” He’d gotten the newsletters, although he’s long since stopped watching his inbox for them. That had been…a bittersweet day, when he realized that.

Gon nods. “Two and half. It’s been great. Whale Island is always home, but…I missed it.”

Killua swallows, his smile fading. He looks back out to sea. “And…your Nen?”

“Nope,” Gon says, popping the P. “Still don’t have it back yet.”

“Yet,” Killua points out.

Gon smiles, close-lipped. “Mm-hm.”

That’s…interesting. Gon kicks his foot through the slats in the railing, over water, over wood. He doesn’t offer anything else—does he not want Killua to know? Waiting for Killua to ask? It’s so strange—he doesn’t seem too concerned about it. Doesn’t seem concerned about it at all.

“Huh,” Killua says, for lack of anything better to say. “Are you…do you…?”

The foghorn blares, and Killua nearly jumps out of his skin.

“All passengers, if you would like, we’re passing by Lover’s Leap just over here on the right, one of our local landmarks,” says a voice over the loudspeaker. It sounds oddly familiar—and oh, that’s definitely the woman who sold them their tickets. “See that white line running down the side of the cliff face? Legend has it that long ago, two lovers would meet where it touched the land and sea, in secret.”

Gon listens intently, his head turned away to look at whatever the lady just pointed out. Conversation over, apparently.

Killua won’t lie—it stings, a little.  

“One lover was from the sea, and the other from the land,” continues the voice. “They couldn’t be together, so they both vowed to meet each other on their own terrain. However, they made their plans without telling each other; one of them cast themself over into the rushing waters below, while the other climbed the cliffs. When the second lover arrived at the top of the cliff and did not find the first, they vowed to wait until their beloved returned. People say that they waited so long that they turned to stone—that little outcropping you see at the top of the cliff there.”

“It does kinda look like a person,” Gon murmurs, squinting against the midday sun. He raises his hand to his face, his eyes shadowed.

Killua lets out a breath. Yeah, it’s…the Nen stuff is none of his business. He turns and tries to find whatever it is the announcer is pointing out…there.

Huh. Gon’s right—it kinda does look like a person, although only vaguely. The little pillar of rock stands just near the cliff’s edge, and there’s a small indentation in its middle that gives the impression of a waist.

“I think they’re looking out at the water,” Gon says, still squinting.

“Really?” Killua says. He tries to look for anything that might suggest a face and finds nothing. “How do you figure that?”

Gon lowers his hand and hums thoughtfully. “They wouldn’t stand so close to the sea if they weren’t looking at it, right?”

Killua considers this. “But the lady said that they came to land to look for their lover. So wouldn’t they be facing the land, away from the sea?”

“Maybe they already knew,” Gon says, voice thoughtful.

“Knew what?”

Gon shrugs. “Knew that their lover had already jumped. But they still decided to keep climbing anyway.”

“Why the hell would they do that?” Killua says. “They should’ve jumped right back in once they’d realized.”

“I dunno,” Gon says, grinning. “Maybe we’ve decided to remember the wrong part of the story. Maybe they should call it Lover’s Climb.”

Killua snorts. “You’re ridiculous,” he says, and Gon just laughs again, bright and warm and a little sad.

It’s fine. They can talk about…the Nen thing later, or not talk about it at all. Maybe there’s nothing to really even talk about.

Killua’s fine with it. Really.

***

“I wonder what happened to the lover who jumped,” Alluka muses on the way back to the house.

“Prolly drowned,” Killua says. The sea is a calm grey today—low tide.

“That’s kinda sad,” Nanika says.

Gon just looks thoughtful.

***

Alluka corners him while Gon is at the supermarket to pick up the items on their agreed-upon grocery list for the week. He realizes, belatedly, that her request for him to help her wash the dishes had been a trap.

Well, she is still a Zoldyck.

“Brother,” she begins, rolling up her sleeves for the dishes. She hands him the first plate for rinsing.

“Sister,” he says, taking it from her. He already knows where this is going, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

“You still like him,” she says, almost gently, which is. Bad. Gentle is bad, because that means she knows this trip had been a test, and that he had failed the moment he and Gon had locked eyes at the airport.

Not even a good-natured rib about how he’d stared more at Gon than the cliffs today. Straight to the point—and that’s not Killua’s doing, that’s something she became all on her own. He’s almost proud, if only that honesty wasn’t currently being used at his expense.

“And?” he says, perhaps placing the plate on the drying rack with a little too much force. “I can behave myself, I promise.” Alluka hands him a spoon next.

“That’s not what I’m worried about, and you know it.” Mug next, chipped on the handle.

Another plate. “What do you mean, then?”

She sighs, turns off the water. Gives him a look. “He likes you too,” she says, her voice gentle again.

He lowers his hands. He thinks about how Gon had looked at him at the airport. The way he looks at Killua when he thinks Killua’s not looking. He may have gotten better at hiding his thoughts, but his emotions…

Well, Killua’s always been particularly attuned to Gon when it comes to that.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “I know.”

The look turns to something like exasperation. “Brother, maybe this isn’t—”

“I know,” he says again, some of the desperation leaking into his voice. He takes a breath, tries to scale it back some. He’s had lots of practice with that. “I’ll figure it out, okay? I just don’t want to ruin your vacation, or you or Nanika’s time with him either.” He stares at the silvery bottom of the sink, watches the suds meander down the drain. “I know you’ve missed him, too.”

A moment.

“My vacation is not more important than your happiness,” Alluka says firmly, then turns on the water again.

Killua tenses, preparing for the argument, but Alluka knows him too well, knows now’s not the time to push.

“Just…” she says, handing him a fork. “If you want to talk, I’m here. Nanika, too.”

Slowly, Killua relaxes. He takes the fork and doesn’t say thank you; he doesn’t need to with family, after all. Alluka has always understood. “I will,” he promises.

She’s come a long way since Killua scooped her out of that godforsaken basement—they both have. Gon is right—she is growing up well.

With an approving nod, she hands him a knife, blade down. “Good.”

They wash the remainder of the dishes in companionable silence. Killua will never deserve his sisters, their quiet care of him.

“And,” Alluka says suddenly, sounding thoughtful. “If you ever need me to clear out for an afternoon, just say the word—”

Killua throws the sponge at her.

***

After dinner, they walk on the beach.

Killua supposes he should’ve seen this coming too; Alluka is very clearly giving them space, running ahead to look at tide pools and generally being very considerate.

“I think I’m gonna turn in for the night,” she announces after twenty minutes.

“Sleep well,” Killua says.

“Night, Brother,” Nanika says sleepily. She smiles at Gon. “Good night, Gon.”

“Good night, you two,” Gon says with a return smile that is just as sweet.

They leave with a wave, back to the lighted path that leads back to the house.

And then it’s just him and Gon.

Killua shoves his hands in his pockets and clears his throat. “So,” he says.

Gon looks at him, and it’s an effort for Killua to keep his breath even. It’s new moon, so there’s no light beyond the path Alluka just took, but Killua has never had trouble seeing in the dark.

Neither, Killua remembers, has Gon.

Gon smiles and nods, like Killua’s just said something interesting. He rubs the back of his head, looks around. “So,” he says. “What do you wanna do?”

Killua supposes that Alluka is right. About him and Gon needing to figure it out. If nothing else, he doesn’t want his…dramatics to ruin their vacation.

Heart pounding, he looks around the beach. Is this a conversation he wants to have sitting or standing? He thinks standing, maybe. “Want to walk down a little further?”

They walk parallel to the shore. The beach is rockier here, this far away from the residential areas, stones smoothed out and coated with bits of sand. It reminds Killua of the breaded chicken he’d made for dinner.

“So how is—”

“How have you—?”

They both stop and blink.

“Ah,” Gon says, smiling again. “You first.”

A gentleman—Killua can’t help but smile back. “How are Aunt Mito and Abe?” Mito still sends him chocolate every year on his birthday—he feels bad that he hasn’t visited since that first time to thank her in person.

Gon brightens. “They’re doing well. She and Abe still doing the same stuff on the island. Abe’s getting a little older—” an understatement, Killua has no idea how old that woman really is—“so I’ve been helping out a bit more around the house when I can.”

“Ah,” Killua says. Man, it’s been a while since he’s done this—small talk with Gon is still new. He frowns. “Wait, so you’re living there now? I thought you were with Kite.”

Gon nods. “I go back and forth every few months.” He looks out to sea, as if he could swim all the way back to Whale Island. “It’s been nice. I get to see them more often and still do my Hunter work. Best of both worlds.”

Killua smiles. “I’m sure Mito is happy to have you home more often.”

Gon snorts. “That’s one word for it. She’s always asking me to bring her and Abe stuff, now that she knows I’ll come back.” He shakes his head, turning to smile at Killua. Despite his words, he seems pleased. “It’s a new feeling for her, I think.”

Ah, yes. Well. “That checks out,” Killua says. He can’t imagine what it’s like to have Ging for a cousin.

They stand like that for a moment, side by side, facing the sea. Gon picks up a stone and skips it; twenty skips. Killua does the same; twenty-two.

“Damn,” Gon says, grinning.

Killua huffs, grins back. “Gotta try harder, Freecss.”

They keep walking, and Killua savors the silence—breathes it in with the sea air. He’s missed this—doing nothing with Gon.

Then, the air changes. Gon speaks.

“Earlier today,” he says, and Killua’s heart drops to his feet. “You wanted to ask about my Nen.”

Quiet, thoughtful. Not a trace of accusation or fishing for a reaction; simply a statement of the truth.

Killua swallows, stops walking. “I did.” A pause. “I do.”

At first, Gon doesn’t say anything. Instead, he walks a few meters past Killua, towards a giant rock. Killua has no idea how it got there; perhaps it cracked off the cliffs and rolled all the way here, or perhaps someone moved it.

Gon sits on top of it. Guess they’re going to be sitting down for this, then.

Killua follows him, dusting the sand off the spot next to Gon, and leans back on his hands when he sits. Gon leans forward, and they both face the sea.

“I don’t want it back,” Gon begins. “I gave up too much, and I accept the consequences of my choice.”

Killua tries to breathe around the thing in his throat. “Okay,” he says. Okay. They’re really doing this, then. “You…accept that you don’t have your Nen anymore,” he says, confirming.

Gon nods.

“But… ‘yet.’ On the ferry today, you said that you didn’t have your Nen back yet.”

Gon looks a little guilty. “I’m sorry for not giving you an answer right away,” he says. “I wanted to wait until we were alone to have this conversation.”

“Okay,” Killua says again, slowly. “We’re having it now. What’s…what’s up with your Nen?”

Gon shrugs. “I just haven’t looked,” he says with a wry smile.

“You…haven’t even looked? Like, at all?”

“Nope.”

Killua blinks at him once, twice. “Why?” he asks, and it’s almost funny, how confused he sounds.

Gon sounds just as confused, like this is something Killua should grasp. “Because I don’t deserve to. I gave it away. Condition and covenant.”

“Yeah, I know how it works,” Killua says, unable to keep the snippiness out of his voice. He picks at a faint line in the rock with his fingernail—he doesn’t make his hands claws anymore, but he almost wants to, now. Just to see if he can still break stone. “You said ‘yet’ on the boat, so you’re obviously waiting for something. What is it?”

“I want to make it up to you.” Gon turns so that he’s finally facing Killua, not the ocean. Killua almost wishes he hadn’t—this was much easier when they weren’t looking at each other, when they were skipping rocks. “It doesn’t feel right to go looking for something that hurt you so badly, not until I make it right.”

“Make it right,” Killua repeats. His voice isn’t shaking, which is…an improvement to how this conversation might’ve if they’d had it a few years ago. Still. “Gon, you realize how unfair that is, right? Your Nen didn’t hurt me. You did.”

Gon looks stricken, like Killua’s just hit him. “I…I know. And I’m so sorry.”

Fuck. That’s not what Killua had meant to say—really, truly, he’s forgiven Gon. He forgave him a long time ago.

Because Gon might not have forgiven himself, but Killua has long made peace with it. Back in that hospital, he had accepted that Gon had made a choice to push him away, to destroy himself, and that Killua had let him. They were just dumb kids, but they were dumb kids in the middle of a war, and he had learned that there was a part of Gon willing to trade everything away when enough pressure was applied, when he felt grief enough to drown in it.

But that’s also beside the point, because again—he’s also long forgiven Gon for it, for that part of himself.

He’s not here to air out dirty laundry. So instead, Killua shrugs. “It’s okay,” he says. “Water under the bridge Gon, seriously. But…you do realize how unfair it is to both of us, right?”

“I…” Gon’s brow furrows, and even though Killua is kinda angry at him, he also finds it endearing as hell. Fuck. “How?”

“Because,” Killua says. “Now you’re waiting for me to…give you some kind of permission to do something you clearly want to do, when I’ve already told you, several times, both now and back then, that I’m okay.”

Gon blinks at him. “Oh,” he says, after a moment.

“Yeah, oh,” Killua says, pinching the bridge of his nose. He gets sand on his face for his troubles. “Get it now?”

That little line is back between Gon’s brow. “But it’s not permission I’m looking for,” he says, because his skull is still as thick as ever. “I just want to show you I’ve changed. I thought, when you texted..." he trails off, sounding lost. “That you were ready to talk again.”

"So you thought this was, what, some kind of test?” Killua says, dread pooling in his stomach. He hadn’t—that’s not. Not what he’d meant when he texted him. If this was a test, it was for Killua, not for Gon, and he’s pretty sure he already knows his results.

Is…is that what Gon thinks? That Killua had been…testing his loyalty, or something? Killua feels a little sick. “I didn’t save your life so you would feel indebted to me,” he says, his voice shaking. “And I didn’t invite you here because I wanted to see if you’d—if you were fucking worthy, or whatever. I did it because—” he swallows, forces the words out like they’re punches. Gon has to know. How can he not? “Because you’re my friend and I couldn’t lose you. Can’t.”

Gon’s eyes are wide; looks like the punches landed. Killua doesn’t know if he wants to hit or hold him.

“I saved your life so you could live it, idiot,” Killua says weakly. Preferably with me he doesn’t say.

Gon shifts, the first sign of discomfort the entire time they’ve been talking, and Killua is viciously glad for it, that Gon looks like he’s finally questioning…whatever led him to these ass-backwards conclusions. “That…makes sense. I guess I just wanted to see if you still wanted me around. The Nen stuff is secondary, always has been.” He sighs, sounding just as weary as Killua feels. “I’m sorry, I should’ve started this another way.”

Killua eyes him wearily. “Okay,” he says, and it sounds like go on.

“Killua,” Gon says, and oh. It’s been years since he’s heard his name with that rhythm, that cadence. He takes a breath, takes Killua’s hand and laces their fingers together. Killua stares at their hands, Gon's nails square and strong, a scar on top of his hand that Killua doesn’t recognize. “Give me another chance? I want to show you that I’m serious about this.”

Killua’s face feels so hot that his brain is starting to leak out of his ears. “You,” he says. He’s dying, he’s sure of it. “You—what do you mean, serious?”

Gon doesn’t look embarrassed at all, which is unacceptable, considering Killua is five seconds away from combustion. “Whatever you want it to mean,” he says earnestly. His hand is warm. Killua’s is definitely sweaty. “Friends, boyfriends, either, neither. I just…would like to be in your life again.” He dips his chin a little, has the audacity—the fucking audacity—to look shy. “That is, only if you want.”

Killua’s brain is definitely making its way to the ocean by now, spilled out of his ears and winding its way over the smooth stones to where the water kisses the land. “Boyfriends,” he parrots. He can’t—he. What. What the hell is happening.

Wildly, he thinks of his parents. Dad in his room of animal furs in silence and Mom in the computer labs shrieking at the monitors. He immediately discards that line of thought. He and Alluka and Nanika have long established that their family should not serve as a role model for any kind of healthy relationship. The exact fucking opposite, in fact.

He tries to think about the fact that he and his siblings exist at all, and how that might’ve happened, and his brain stops working entirely.

“You don’t have to give an answer right away,” Gon says, breaking the tide of Killua’s crisis. He looks a little concerned—how long has Killua been quiet? “Just—can you answer one thing?”

Slowly, Killua nods. Anything, always, for Gon.

Gon takes a breath. Says, “Is it okay if I stick around? Just these two weeks. Whatever happens after…well. That’s your decision. But now you know my side of it.” He squeezes Killua’s hand. “Whatever you decide, I’ll be happy with it.”

Killua latches onto that last paradox, still compartmentalizing everything else for later. He and Gon have been bickering for as long as they’ve loved each other, and doing the former is much easier than saying the latter. “But you just said you wanted to stay,” he says. “What if I say no?”

A flash of sorrow across Gon’s eyes—but it’s fleeting, and quickly replaced by warmth. Warmth and acceptance. He smiles that small smile of his, reserved only for Killua. It’s small only in its size—it still rips the air from Killua’s lungs, drowning him. “Then you say no,” he says. Simple, easy.

Killua swallows. Look at their hands, the thin white line in the rock beneath them. Looks at Gon, who is still smiling, and waiting.

“Okay,” he whispers, head swimming. “Yeah—I. I’d like that. If you stayed.” He doesn’t realize how hard he’s squeezing Gon’s hand until he lets go. “I don’t know about—about labels, or what we should do after the trip—”

“No problem at all,” Gon says. He lets go of Killua’s hand to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, Killua’s face burning all the while. “If you want, it’ll never be a problem. I just want you. And let’s not think about the end of the trip. Let’s just…see where it goes. How’s that sound?”

Gon is going to be the death of him, Killua’s sure of it. “That sounds…” he says.

It sounds like everything he’s ever wanted and more. Like the thing in his chest that’s been healed over for years is suddenly aching again. Like he’s waking up to possibilities he’d long put to rest, like he’s standing in the street watching the light fall across his back and thinking, part joy, part despair, I’m the one who should be thanking you—

“That sounds cool,” he whispers.  

Fuck, he’s going to die. Cool?  He buries his face in his hands, his hands and voice shaking. “I’m so sorry.”

Gon just laughs, bright and loud into the night air. “No, no,” he says, and his voice sounds like it did that day they were standing at the foot of the World Tree—full of wonder, almost far away. “I think you’re cool, too. The absolute coolest, Killua.”

Killua peeks through his fingers and avoids Gon’s smile, instead staring at the dark tumble of the waves. This is humiliating. This is the best day of his life. He maybe wants to laugh. He definitely wants to cry. “Stop laughing,” he grumbles. “Stop stop stop.”

Gon laughs even harder. “Okay,” he says, “I will,” and they both don’t care that he’s lying.

***

That night, after they walk back to the house and say good night, Killua dreams of Gon, standing on the cliff’s edge, the sea below him. His arms are at his sides.

He turns, and Killua can’t see his face.

Killua thinks, not again.

***

He wakes up silently, as he always does. He’s sweating bullets. The air is still outside his window; with a grunt, he kicks off the blankets.

Just before he slips into sleep again, the thought slips in, unbidden: have they both changed too much?

Chapter Text

The aquarium, like the ferry ride, is pleasant enough. The one in Yorknew is bigger, but this one is well known for its—

“Whales!” Nanika says, pointing at the life-size models that hang from the ceiling of the entrance atrium. Blue spotlights slide over the walls, bathing the room in a watery glow.

“Oh,” Alluka breathes. “They’re beautiful.”

Killua begrudgingly agrees—even replicated, there’s something gentle and powerful about them. Their sheer size alone is incredible; it’s hard to believe something that massive lives on the same planet as they do.

“Wow,” Gon says. The blue lights bathe his upturned face. “This reminds me of Whale Island.” His eyes slide to Killua. “Don’t you think?”

Well, yeah, Killua wants to say. But beyond the name and shape of the island itself, this cool, blue place is nothing like the warmth and sunshine of Gon’s home.

I just want you, he’d said.

“Yeah,” Killua says.

“You guys should all visit sometime,” Gon says. “Aunt Mito would love you have you.”

“Ah, the girls have school,” Killua says. Usually he and the girls take a trip every summer together, but maybe…maybe this summer.

That’d be nice, Killua thinks.

Ah, but Gon will be going back to Kite…right?

Killua looks back up to ask, just in time to see Gon paste on a smile. It happens so quickly that if Killua had blinked he would’ve missed it.

“For sure!” Gon says. “We’ll have to work out our schedules.”  

Killua’s stomach drops. What had he said?

He opens his mouth to say something, anything, when Alluka steps in for him.

“We’d love that!” she says. “Brother always says he had a great time when he visited you guys.”

Heat immediately floods Killua’s cheeks. He clears his throat. “Well, I did,” he says defensively, not even sure what he’s defensive about.

“I’m glad!” Gon says. He’s smiling again, although it looks a little odd. Gon’s smiles are always genuine, of course—he smiles at everyone the same way—but this…it’s like a window’s been closed. Killua can still see through the glass, but the air has died. He’s been shut out in some way.

He thinks about all the birthday gifts he’s received over the years from Mito and feels a rush of shame.

“I’m glad you had fun then,” Gon says. He turns back to the whales, his eyes far away.

Alluka looks between them, frowning. She opens her mouth, then closes it.

Killua looks down at his shoes. Well. It’s not like Gon had asked to visit him all these years, either.

Nanika speaks, and the moment eases. “You guys wanna check out the jellyfish?”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Alluka says. “Brother, didn’t you say they had one of those giant tanks that’s like three stories tall in the main hall?”

“Wait, this isn’t the main hall?” Gon asks, and they start walking.

After a moment, Killua follows them, his hands in his pockets.

As they roam the shadowed halls, Killua wonders. Wonders: why hasn’t he visited Whale Island in all these years? Why hasn’t he called Gon?

Gon hadn’t said it, but the answer had been there, fading away with the blue lights. The uncomfortable truth, simple and devastating as he steps back to look at it:

He hadn’t wanted to.

And Gon knew that—knows that.

No wonder he’d looked so sad.

Killua stands in front of the blue tank. Watches Gon and his sister point at something from across the glass. Gon smiles and turns to look at him, not a trace of disappointment in his eyes—only light.

Fuck.

***

For dinner that night, they go to a bistro just across the street, because Alluka and Nanika are craving some soup and Killua has yet to deny his sisters anything.

“Shall we take it to-go?” he suggests as they step inside the shop, blessedly warm after walking through the balmy spring air. It hadn’t been this chilly when they arrived, but perhaps the incoming storm is to blame; the sky over the sea is almost black. It’s a little odd to see, since the sun’s still out on their side of town.

Alluka nods. “Sounds like a good idea. Wouldn’t want to get caught out in the storm.”

Gon agrees. He grins, turning to look through the windows at the clouds. His eyes are almost hungry. Lightning flashes near the horizon, over the sea. Gon whistles. “Look at that lightning,” he murmurs, almost too soft for Killua to hear. “Beautiful.”

Did Gon always like thunderstorms this much? Killua doesn’t think so—he’d heard the story from Leorio about how he and Gon and Kurapika had met on that boat, and how Gon had been giving people water and passing around buckets for every poor bastard who’d had a headache. Maybe that first adventure had planted some fondness in him for storms.

Killua nearly smiles at the thought—Gon, just before they had met. Gon, just before he changed Killua’s life, and neither of them had known it.

“What’s so funny?” Gon asks once they exit the shop, paper bags in hand. The wind is beginning to pick up, salty and charged.

Killua raises an eyebrow. “I’m not laughing.”

“You were smiling about something,” Gon says, elbowing him. “C’mon, tell me.”

There’s that voice again—the one that’s wheedled everything from Chocorobos to mumbled confessions out of Killua.

“I was just thinking,” Killua says hotly.

“About what?”

There—that lilt, that upturned corner of his lips. Smug bastard.

“None of your business, Freecs.”

Ahead of them, Alluka calls back, “Ask him again, Gon—you’re nearly there.”

“Hey!”

Gon neatly sidesteps the kick that Killua aims for his ankles. “Jenny for your thoughts?” he says, grinning.

“If you had to give me money every time you asked me that, you’d be broke,” Killua says. But Alluka’s right—they both learned this little dance a long time ago, and it seems they still know it.

“But Killua,” Gon says, his smiling fading a little. He tilts his head. “I can’t read your mind, you know?” A strange little laugh accompanies this, a bit sad. “So I have to resort to bribery.”

“That’s not very ethical,” Killua says automatically. Can’t read his mind? What does that mean? He feels thrown off, like he’s missed a step in the dance.

They walk another half block before he says anything.

“I just,” he begins. “I was remembering some stuff Leorio told me. About how the three of you first met. I just thought…well, around that time I was probably just leaving my house. It would’ve been cool to have been there with you guys.”

Silence. Killua blinks, then turns back to find Gon beaming at him.

His face heats up immediately. “Shut up,” he mumbles.

“But I didn’t say anything!” Gon says, still smiling. God, even his freckles are shining, the weird sunlight from the half-stormy sky making his shadow darker, his eyes lighter. He looks oddly bright, like he’s been plucked from somewhere else and placed here, in front of Killua.

How the hell can someone look holy while holding a paper bag of tomato soup?

The light is weird—the sky is black but the sun is out, and it’s nothing like that day when he’d carried Gon back to the border from their encounter with Pitou. But it’s weird, how some moments overlap—unbound by time—and for a moment Killua is sitting at the foot of a bed bathed in light and thinking I don’t deserve to be here, I don’t deserve to be here—

“Killua?”

Killua blinks.

Now Gon is staring at him again, eyes no longer alight with mirth—he looks…not concerned, exactly. A little curious, like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle.

Even Alluka has stopped walking, stopped at a crosswalk and half-turned ahead of them, watching him out of the corner of her eye. She raises an eyebrow. You okay?

There are no cars coming; Killua can’t see what color the light is, if it’s okay to start walking.

“Killua?” Gon says again, this time taking a step towards him. He looks more concerned now, that little line between his brows. “Are you okay?”

Green. The light is green. Okay to walk.

“Yeah,” Killua says. He suddenly feels lighter than he has in years. He has never deserved the people in his life, but maybe that’s okay. They still stay. There’s nothing he can do to earn that, he’s learned. Maybe there never was.

As soon as the thought forms, the familiar wall of Illumi’s eyes rises for a moment, unbidden, but he blinks it away—not anymore. He doesn’t do that anymore, just like he doesn’t kill people anymore, just like he doesn’t hate himself anymore. (Well, most days. But he’s trying).

He elbows Gon, careful to avoid splashing their soup. “C’mon. Light’s green,” he says, and he doesn’t smile, but he’s steady.

Gon considers him for a moment longer, that unknowable emotion crossing his face once more—I can’t read your mind, you know?  he’d said, and perhaps Killua should’ve replied Me neither—before he, too, blinks it away. “Alright,” he says, still unsure, but Killua’s not having it.

He grabs his hand, the one not holding their soup, and pulls them both after Alluka, into the strange, stormy sunlight.

***

They crack open their containers at the kitchen table. Killua’s handing Alluka her spoon when the sky opens up.

“Made it just in time,” Gon murmurs. He has a red mustache of tomato soup above his lip.

Killua hands him a napkin. “This weather is crazy,” he says. He’s seen a lot of different climates in his travels with Alluka and Nanika, and even more when he’d been traveling with Gon, but he’s never quite gotten used to how quickly the wind can change on the coast.

“It’s like this on Whale Island, too,” Gon says. “The weather can change so fast on the coast.”

Killua can’t help it; he snorts. For someone who claims to not be able to read Killua’s mind, he has an uncanny way of knowing what Killua’s thinking.

“Well,” Alluka says. “That means tonight will be even cozier than usual. We should play a game!”

Cozier, right. Killua rips off a chunk of his bread and dips it in his soup. Gon does the same, and Killua realizes that he can’t remember if he picked that habit up from Gon or the other way around.

His stomach feels warm—stupid, stupid. Over bread, of all things. He shovels more in his mouth and says an approximation of, “Do you have anything in mind?”

Gon’s eyes light up. “Kite and the gang taught me this really fun card game when I first joined up—I could teach you guys, if you’d like?”

It’s strange to see the years framed like that—when I first joined up—years ago, now. Card games, a leather jacket, impulse control—what else has Gon picked up?

Outside, the rain washes steadily against the windows—maybe, hopefully, there’ll be thunder with this storm.

Killua leans forward and relishes the curl of satisfaction when Gon does the same.

“Teach us,” he says.

Gon grins, never one to back down from a challenge.

To no one’s surprise, Alluka wins.

“You just need to get better at lying, Brother,” she says, looking far too pleased with herself.

Killua groans, throwing his cards on the table—over half the deck. (Gon has the other half). He sinks into the warmth of the couch and pokes her in the side. “It was literally my job to lie, you know. For like, the first twelve years of my life.” Well, his job had actually been murder, but lying had come with the gig. “I lie all the time.”

“Yeah, to other people,” Nanika says.

Alluka nods. She gestures to Gon, who’s sprawled out in despair in front of the fireplace. “Not to us, though.”

Killua bites back the retort—I’ve lied to everyone here and you had no idea—just in time. Probably not the best thing to say.

“Killua’s lied to me before,” Gon says from the floor. His voice is so mild that despite the shock that jolts down Killua’s spine, he can only snort.

“Me too,” Alluka says, also mild. “But I’ve done the same to him too, so.”

“Liars, all of us,” Killua sighs. He glances over at Gon, who’s still puffing out his cheeks. Has Gon ever lied to him? Like, he’s definitely bent the truth a bit, but an outright lie…what would that even look like?  

“Wait,” Killua says. He sits up with a grin. “Let’s play two truths and a lie.”

Gon sits up too, his eyes gleaming. “Yeah,” he says, eyes on Killua. His voice is still easygoing, but there’s something almost heated in his voice that makes color creep up Killua’s cheeks, unbidden.

“Are you sure?” Alluka says, frowning. “Nanika and I will just win again.”

Killua shoots her a look which she returns with an angelic smile. Oh, it’s on.

“Alright,” he says. “Fine. To make it fair to Gon, neither of us can play against each other.”

“I think I’ll be fine,” Gon says earnestly. “I know both of you pretty well. Especially you, Killua.” This last part said with a wink.

Alluka’s eyes flick to Killua’s, which Killua pointedly ignores. He clears his throat. “Okay, great! Who wants to start?”

“I will!” Alluka says brightly. “Okay.” She scrunches her nose as she thinks—a habit picked up from one of her school friends. “One: Killua cuts me and Nanika’s hair.”

“Truth,” Gon says immediately, which makes all the Zoldycks in the room raise an eyebrow.

“That’s a compliment!” Gon protests, but he’s holding back a smile. “I swear, your hair looks really pretty, you two. Killua does a great job—that’s how I know it’s the truth.”

“Well, you can’t know that for sure,” Alluka says with a sniff, but she looks pleased. “Okay, number two: after I graduate, I want to go to medical school like Leorio and become a psychiatrist.”

It takes every old assassin trick Killua’s ever learned to not react—truth or not, this is the first time he’s heard of this. He catches Alluka’s eye, and she gives a tiny nod when Gon's not looking. Truth.

The shock subsides a little, becoming secondary to the warmth in his chest.

His little sister—a doctor. Someone who helps people, who saves lives.

He’s so proud he could cry.

But the game’s still going—after a moment, Gon nods. “Okay. Number three?”

Alluka smiles. “We first met in a hospital.”

Oh, she’s good.

Gon tilts his head, then smiles back at her. “Lie.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I met Nanika in the hospital,” Gon says without hesitation. “Not you.”

Alluka blinks, and Nanika smiles at him. “That’s right,” she says, pleased.

“Congratulations,” Alluka says, beaming. “You get a point!”

Heh—they’re crafty, his sisters. They didn’t need to test Gon, but perhaps even the girls have the equivalent of a shovel talk. If she and Nanika had asked anyone else, Killua doubts they would’ve given a right answer.

But this is Gon, and now he’s winning their game.

“Okay, my turn!” Gon says. He drums his fingers on the floorboards. “Hmm…okay.” He puts up a finger. “One: when I was seven, I almost drowned when I got pulled out to sea by a riptide.”

Huh. That one could very well be true.

“Two,” Gon says. He grins at Killua. “I can hold my breath longer than Killua can.”

“Lie,” Killua says immediately. Killua can hold his breath for seven minutes—they had tested this, at some point in their time together, and Killua had won. At the time, it didn’t really feel like a win, just further proof of his own otherness.

But Gon only flashes him a smile—that smile that Killua can’t read. “Three,” he says. “When I got your text, I was so happy I couldn’t sleep for a week straight.”

Killua blushes all the way up to the back of his neck, red spreading faster than Gon’s soup had stained his napkin.

“Well?” Gon says, his eyes as earnest as always.

Killua picks at the corner of his sweater.

“Huh,” Alluka says, finger to her chin in thought. She thinks a moment longer. “Three is the lie,” she says finally, nodding.

Gon looks at Killua.

This was a bad idea; oh, why did he think he could get the drop on Gon in a game of honesty? Why did he think this would be easier than just…asking Gon what he means when he says things like I can’t read your mind, Killua?

Another game he’s played with Gon and lost. And the worst part is—he’s not even upset about it.

“Also three,” he eventually mumbles.

Because—back when they traveled together, Gon would usually sleep like a rock, but whenever he got really excited, he wouldn’t sleep at all. He’d stare up at stars and hotel ceilings and forest canopies, so excited for the next day of their grand adventure that Killua, who was always lying beside him, wouldn’t be able to sleep either. He’d say things like Mito used to make me the best chocolate cake, you’d really like it—what’s your favorite flavor of frosting? and Tell me about your favorite spots on Kukuroo Mountain, and Killua, who could go for weeks without rest, would indulge him, and neither of them would get any sleep that night.

He’d texted Gon a full two weeks before their rendezvous at the airport—not one week. Logically, then…

“It was longer than a week,” Killua says with a cough. “And uh. You seemed really excited about this trip, so.”

When Gon smiles, it’s without an ounce of shame or embarrassment. “Right on,” he says, so pleased to have been recognized that it almost makes Killua forget that he’s finally won a point.

Almost.

***

In the end, it’s a tie between the two teams. Killua learns that Gon is an excellent liar, but he has a tell—his smile looks different. His lips kind of…scrunch. It’s endearing as hell.

“M’kay,” Allluka says, after the well of things they no longer know about each other dries up. “I think we’re done for the night.”

Killua grins at Gon. “Next time, Freecs.”

Gon punches his shoulder. “Fine by me.” He smiles, close-mouthed and true.

***

(Later that night, Killua dreams of the cliffs again, except this time he’s standing on the edge, where Gon had been. He recognizes the scene this time—there’s that same odd feeling of detachment that he gets whenever Milluki got a little too enthusiastic with the whip. Floating, aimless.

He peers over—the sun’s not out but it’s daytime, sky a lighted gray. Below, the waves crash against the cliffs in white sparks.

When I was seven, says the sea.

Killed four people, says the sky.

Hold my breath longer than you can, say the waves.

Below, in the swirling darkness, floats a fishing pole, red bobber dragging up and down and up and down—)

***

He feels, rather than sees, Gon register his waking up.

A hand on his shoulder, Gon’s breath sweet and warm against his lips. He takes in the planes of his face in the darkened room—internal clock says it’s around two thirty.

“Gon?” Disorientation falls away. In its place comes something that feels comfortable and heavy, draping around his shoulders.

“You were having a nightmare,” Gon says matter-of-factly.

Ah. It’s been a while since they’ve done this, but those nights on Greed Island rise up, their warmth tangible even now, even in memory. Somehow, he always knew when Killua was having a nightmare, even though Killua has slept soundlessly since he was three.

“Thanks,” Killua says roughly.

He doesn’t ask why Gon is in his room, but Gon offers him an explanation anyway. “I was just about to head out,” he says, his voice soft. “Wanna go for a walk on the sea wall? Rain’s stopped.”

“Sure,” Killua says, not bothering to keep the relief out of his voice.

Gon only smiles. No, he has never pitied him, Killua thinks. Perhaps that is why.

***

They pass a bar that’s still open. Gon nudges his shoulder. “You hungry?”

Now that he asks—yeah, Killua is actually kind of hungry. “I could eat.”

The bar is quaint and charming, much like the rest of the town—with red booths and wooden walls and warm lights hanging from the ceiling. There are a surprising number of people out for the hour, although Killua doesn’t really know what a normal amount of people for a bar would be.

Their waitress squints at Killua. “You old enough to drink?”

“Yes,” Killua says at the same time as Gon.

Gon laughs because he’s a jerk. “But we’ll be dining in,” he says, flashing her that trademark Freecs smile.

She visibly brightens; Killua frowns. “Follow me,” she says.

She leads them to a small booth in the corner, beside the window on the side of the restaurant facing the ocean.

To Killua’s surprise, Gon orders a beer.

“You drink?”

Gon smiles. “Sometimes. With Kite’s people, if and after we have a good Hunt.”

“Huh,” Killua says, filing the information away. He doesn’t drink himself. Mostly because he physically can’t get drunk, but also because he’s never really seen the appeal. “What’s it like?”

Gon trails a finger around the edge of his glass. “Getting drunk?” he says. He has one of Killua’s hair ties around his freckled wrist—one of the girls must’ve given it to him. “Everyone’s different. I get giggly.”

“You’re giggly sober,” Killua points out.

Gon snorts. “Yeah, that’s true. But everything seems funnier after a few glasses.” He takes a sip, making eye contact with Killua the whole time. When he finishes, he props his chin on his hand, still looking and Killua, and Killua can’t breathe.

Fuck, he’s beautiful. Killua wants to…he doesn’t know. For some reason, his jaw aches. He clenches his fists under the table.

Then Gon smiles and says, “See? One sip and you look funnier already.”

The moment breaks. Killua sputters and throws a fry at him, which Gon catches in his mouth because he’s an animal.

“Shut up,” Killua mutters, face burning. He glares at his soda and wills the heat away.

A little later, as they’re polishing off their burgers, Gon says. “I wonder, though. Could you use your Nen somehow?”

Killua scraps the last of the ketchup from his basket with a fry. “Use Nen for what?”

“To get drunk,” Gon says. “Like, Godspeed changes how you react to stuff, right?”

Huh. He has a point.

“Only if you want to, of course,” Gon says hurriedly. “It was just an idea.”

“No, no,” Killua says, already waving over their waitress. “I wanna try.”

Gon’s so…so square.

Killua informs him of his as they leave the bar, bellies full of fried food and Killua’s head feeling pleasantly airy. “Gon,” he says, very seriously. “You’re square.”

Gon snorts, then hiccups, then burps, which should be gross but isn’t, for some reason. "What does that mean?”

Idiot. Doesn’t even know he’s square. “Means you got—you’ve got these stupid shoulders and—” Killua tries to remember the word— “Jaw. Like your Dad’s. Kinda.” Killua frowns. You look like Ging wasn’t exactly what he was trying to say, but now he can’t remember what he was trying to say.

“Thanks?” Gon says.

“You’re welcome.” Man, this is weird. Everything seems brighter, blurrier, like a watercolor painting still drying. And Gon is literally glowing, like he’s all lit up from the inside.

Killua’s mouth decides to inform him of this as well. “You’re glowing,” he says, the words tripping over each other. “You’re like—it’s like you’re light.”

Silence, and. Ah, fuck.

“I’m light?” Gon says, giggling. (See? Killua had told him. Giggly).

And okay, yeah. Right now it sounds funny—hell, everything’s funny right now. Even Gon’s leather jacket is funny, the funniest thing Killua’s ever seen.

“Yeah, Gon,” Killua says, and it’s almost a sigh. “You are light.”

They’re quiet for a moment, swaying down the street. Killua sighs.

“So’re you,” Gon says suddenly, voice serious. He stops walking, so Killua does too. Then he looks at Killua, so Killua looks at him, too.

Where has he seen this before? Gon’s eyes are wide and dark, like he’s looking at the World Tree or the small-billed swans or any of the other beautiful things they’d seen together on their travels a lifetime ago—like he’s looking at one of those impossible things, instead of Killua with a ketchup stain on his shirt and his hair a rat’s nest from his nightmare.

“You always were,” Gon continues, almost to himself. “Are. Like—” he furrows his brow, makes a wavy hand motion that Killua can’t even begin to interpret. “Like a lighthouse. Showed me the way home when I was lost.”

And Killua—Killua can’t stand it. He sways forward, gets his face right in Gon’s—a mirror of Gon waking him up earlier tonight.

“Gon,” he says, voice equally as serious. “Can I kiss you?”

Gon freezes, and his eyes grow, if possible, even wider than before. He nods so fast he nearly headbutts him. “Yes,” he breathes. Killua’s heart soars. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Killua closes his eyes.

Gon’s lips are warm and chapped, and he tastes like French fries and beer. Killua makes a noise—half sigh, half laugh—and Gon’s hand comes up to cradle the back of his head. Everything is warm and messy and a little wet, and when Killua pulls away, he wonders how long ago he could’ve been kissing Gon, because he definitely should’ve done this sooner.

Gon’s eyes are bright, his hand still cradling the back of Killua’s head. He drags it through the long strands, down the back of his neck, around the curve of his jaw, up to his cheek. Killua shivers, rooted to the spot. A tsunami could hit right now and he wouldn’t notice—Gon’s warm hand on his cheek the only thing keeping him from floating away into the moonless night.

“Okay?” Gon whispers. They’re still standing in the street, a few steps away from the yellow light of a streetlamp. Behind them, steady as always, the ocean.

Killua feels something in him shift, just an inch. He wonders, oddly, what time it is, and whether or not the girls know they’ve left. He wonders how long this sleepy warmth spreading through his lungs will last. Wonders if he can hold on to it for a little while longer.

It isn’t fair. It’s so fucking unfair. He’s just gotten to know him a little better—they’ve just started to relearn each other, and now they’re running out of time.

“Let’s head back,” he says in lieu of a real answer, which seems to trouble Gon, that line between his eyebrows reappearing like an old friend. It disappears, though, when Killua holds out a hand, blushing furiously all the while.

They walk back to the house in silence, through the back door, into the hallway. They stand in front of Killua’s door.

Killua lets go first. “Good night, Gon,” he says softly.

In the soft darkness, Gon’s eyes are bright. His lips part. Close.

“Good night, Killua,” he says, even softer, and walks away.

***

He should’ve drunk water before he went to sleep.

“You should’ve drunk some water,” Alluka informs him as she flips a pancake.

He groans and presses his fingers to his temples—he didn’t even drink that much. Who would’ve thought that under the assassin’s immunity, he was actually a lightweight.

Gon, of course, looks totally unaffected, although a little sheepish about it. “I’m sorry,” he says. “It was my idea.”

“Yeah, well,” Killua says, wincing. He knocks back the headache medicine that Gon picked up this morning. Gon had somehow woken up at the crack of dawn to get it from the convenience store, even though it must’ve meant he hadn’t slept any more than a few hours. “I was the idiot who followed through, so.”

“When did you guys leave?” Alluka says, coming over with a plate of hot pancakes. She puts the chocolate chip ones on Killua’s plate. He mumbles his thanks.

“Hmm,” Gon says. “Must’ve been a little past midnight?” It’s technically not a lie.

She puts the blueberry pancakes on her and Gon’s plates. Her voice, when she speaks, is casual. Too casual. “And when did you come back?”

“What is this, an interrogation?” Killua says around his pancakes. They’re good—he taught her well.

“You don’t get to say anything,” she says primly. “You did this every time I went out for a year.”

Fine. He can admit that.

“It wasn’t too late,” Gon says, the picture of innocence.

Killua shoves more pancakes in his mouth.

***

They don’t talk about it.

Like, not even a little. Killua keeps glancing over at Gon when he’s not looking, his mind usually between holy shit I want to kiss him again and holy shit I shouldn’t have done that.

He’d expected…he doesn’t know. Perhaps a step forward, a refusal (stupid, he knows, when Gon is the one who asked him to stay)—some kind of change, at the very least.

Instead, Gon acts like everything is the same. He cracks jokes with Alluka, plays cards with Nanika, smiles that same smile at Killua that makes his stomach feel all warm and scrambled.

It’s a new kind of torture—the few days to the festival unchanged from the days before it, and Killua still has no idea what they’re going to do when it’s all over.

“Hey,” Gon says, the night before they’re due to go out on the water. The night before the whales are supposed to start showing up.

They’re getting ice cream. Killua got chocolate, of course, and Alluka and Nanika chose strawberry. Gon got pistachio, because he has horrible taste.

Said ice cream is currently forming a mustache above his lip, which he licks away. Killua is finding that most of the gross things Gon does aren’t actually gross at all, a phenomenon he refuses examine any further than acknowledgement.

“Are you okay?” Gon asks.

Killua bites into his ice cream; it feels good against his teeth. Does he bring it up? Is there even anything to bring up?

Does the kiss mean they’re…he doesn’t know. Together, now? What the fuck does together even mean?

Gon tilts his head, ice cream temporarily forgotten. He looks…concerned. Killua wonders when this kind of attention from Gon stopped being twisted proof of their friendship, something that secretly pleased the part of himself not locked away behind Illumi’s needle, and instead something to avoid.

“I’m okay,” Killua says, and it’s not so much a lie as it is a half-truth. Weirdness with the kiss aside, he is okay. Somehow, he didn’t blow up their friendship. He knows that they’re okay, because Gon’s still here.

He just doesn’t know what that means. Doesn’t know what he wants. Because Gon has pursued self-reflection in their time apart as relentlessly as Killua has avoided it, and now that they’re here, he has no fucking clue what to do.

Gon looks at him carefully. Killua looks back and wonders what he sees.

Finally, Gon smiles. “Great,” he says, nudging Killua’s shoulder. “Hey, can I try your ice cream?”

Killua sighs. Gon is no help here, as per usual. He hands over the ice cream anyway, because he’s probably being unfair—as much as it seems like he can sometimes, Gon was right—he can’t actually read Killua’s mind.

Gon’s hands are sticky. It should be gross. It isn’t.

Dammit.

***

It rains the first day of the festival—hard enough that it’s not safe to go out on the water. And the next day. And, much to Alluka and Nanika and Gon’s dismay, the next.

“Man,” Alluka says, looking out the window. She purses her lips, drums her fingers on the sill. “This sucks.”

“I’m sorry,” Killua says. He joins her in the seat next to the window and glares at the sky, as if that would be enough to stop the downpour.

She just sighs and pats his knee.

“’S okay, Brother,” Nanika says. “Not your fault.”

Killua knows it’s not, but for some reason, he can’t shake the feeling that he could’ve prevented all this. He doesn’t know how, but he should’ve been able to predict this.

Three days until they have to go back. Seventy-two hours.

Outside, the rain falls. Killua wonders if the whales are doing alright.

***

On the fourth day, Killua wakes up feeling oddly rested.

As he does with most things that go right in his life, he frowns. Waves of unease lap at the walls of his chest—not overwhelming, but still odd. Manageable.

He hadn’t dreamed of anything.

***

The fifth day arrives, and the rain lets up enough for them to safely visit the cliffs.

“Where are they?” Alluka says. She cranes her neck over Killua’s shoulder. They’re not super close to the edge, but to avoid the crowd they came to a smaller set of cliffs, farther away from town and narrower than the more popular spots.

“Oi,” Killua says. “Be careful.”

“Gon’s close to the edge,” Nanika points out.

Gon is indeed standing right at the edge of the cliff, green jacket wrapped around his shoulders. His arms aren’t in the sleeves, so they flap in the wind, trailing behind him like wings. He stands, back straight, facing the sea. His hands are on his hips.

Killua swallows. “He’s fine.”

“Do you see them, Gon?” Alluka calls.

“Yeah!” Gon says. “But they’re kind of far away—I think they’re heading towards the inlet.”

“Where, where?” Nanika steps a little closer. Alluka fully commits to testing Killua’s sanity and steps them around him.

Killua sighs. Well, if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.

“There!” Gon says, pointing. Alluka gasps as Killua makes his way past her, scanning the ground for any slippery rocks.

“Where—?”

The wind dies. Killua looks up, then out. That’s when they hear it.

Singing.

It’s somehow exactly what Killua imagined whale songs would sound like and somehow something entirely different. Drawn out and pitched low, then high, as if in mourning or in joy; ringing across the cliffs and echoing back out to sea. Each cry clear, like a bell.

The first voice is joined by a second, and then a third, and a fourth, and then too many to count—all overlapping one another like notes in a chord.

Killua’s seen and heard and lived a lot of things in his travels, but man. This—this is holy.

He closes his eyes, sways, and listens.

In the darkness, on instinct alone, he thinks: Gon would really like this.

Ah.

Slowly, he opens his eyes.

Huh. It really is that simple, isn’t it?

In all the whirlwind of the past few weeks—in all the whirlwind involving Gon, he had forgotten a simple truth.

He turns to say something, but the words die in his throat; Gon is already looking at him, waiting. Smiling.

“I wonder what they’re saying,” Gon says.

Nanika looks between them. She blinks, and Alluka’s looking out to sea.

“Beats me,” Alluka sighs. “But it’s beautiful.”

***

“Gon.”

They sit watching the sunset, their feet dangling over the cliff’s edge. The girls had wanted to go out on the water with the last tourist group before the festival in the town square tonight, and who was Killua to deny her? (Also, he can very clearly see the boat from here—a blue and white button on the ocean. If it so much as dips, he’ll be there.)

Gon looks at him, a question in his eyes.

Killua takes a breath. “I’ve loved you since we were twelve. I love you still.”

Gon goes very, very still.

Killua looks out at the sky. All those colors. The whales aren’t singing anymore. Perhaps the girls had just wanted to give them some privacy, now that he thinks about it. They’ve always been so sweet; he loves them so much it hurts.

Gon is still quiet, and Killua takes the offered invitation to continue. “I don’t think I was fully prepared when I invited you here.” He should’ve been, but then again—is there really any amount of preparation that would’ve been enough?

He sees movement out of the corner of his eye—Gon tilts his head. “Prepared…for what?”

“For you.” Killua kicks his sneakers out over open air. “Gon, you terrified me,” he admits. “Since the day we met, you’ve scared the shit out of me. I mean, I was an assassin. I killed people. And you…you didn’t care. I was so scared you were gonna leave once you realized what I really was, but you knew the whole time. And that was fucking terrifying. But then…”

Gon waits, holding himself still again.

Killua swallows. “Then you did leave. But it wasn’t because of me.” He tries to put it into words, the clarity that years of hindsight have given him. “And I think that was the scariest part—that you could leave, and it would have nothing to do with me. Because that meant there was nothing I could do to make you stay.” He looks out at the ocean, the boat where his sisters are. “No one had ever had that much power over me—except for Illumi, maybe, but that wasn’t by choice. I’d chosen you. And it scared me.”

Gon is silent again. Thinking. Killua can see the gears turning; his eyes fixed somewhere. He sees the moment it clicks. He says, soft, “And now?”

Killua shakes his head. “You’ve changed.” Pauses, then gestures towards the boat below. “So have I.” When he smiles, it is small, warm. “But you don’t scare me anymore. This.” He gestures between the two of them. “This scares me. And I guess…I was so scared of losing you again, I’d forgotten how much fun it is to be with you. How easy. It’s stupid, but…” He thinks. “After last week, when we…”

He feels his face warm. Oh God, okay. Here goes. “When everything was still okay after we kissed, and you acted like everything was normal…I dunno. It felt…” He clears his throat. “It felt confusing, but also really good? Like nothing had to really change, I guess. We could just be us plus kissing.” He winces. “Sorry, I have no idea how this kinda stuff works. Really, properly works.”

He reaches for Gon’s hand. “Which I guess makes sense, given how royally fucked my family is—” Gon snorts, and Killua smiles “—But it’s also kinda dumb. You’re still Gon. And I’m still…” In love with you. “I’m still me. So…”

Killua’s shaking so badly he’s surprised the cliff hasn’t crumbled beneath them into the sea. “So I guess what I’m trying to say is: I’ve figured out what I want. It’s like you said. I just want you. So, uh.” He looks up at Gon, makes himself look at him. “Do you still want the same thing you said on the beach? Will you…will you stay?”

Gon stares at their joined hands, then at Killua. He opens his mouth, and when his voice comes, it’s something Killua has never heard before. “I…”

He’s…is he crying?

“Yes,” Gon says. He breathes out the word like a prayer. “Killua, yes.”

Killua stares at him. Yes. He’s.

Oh.

“These, um.” Gon’s hand is shaking. “These past few years have been about giving you space. Giving us space. I know you needed it, and I probably did, too. But…” Oh fuck, he is crying. Heat pricks at Killua’s eyes, and his nose starts to itch.

Gon sniffles. “But Killua, I’ve missed you so much. I hope that’s okay.”

Killua stares at him. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Gon squares his shoulders. Looks Killua in the eye. “I hurt you,” he says. Quiet, a statement of fact.

“Yes,” Killua says. Also quiet, also an admission. It no longer costs either of them so much to hear it. “A long time ago. I forgave you a long time ago, too. For a while, though, I think I just wasn’t ready to see you.”

Because maybe they’d both needed to do little growing up to meet again. And yeah, maybe they could’ve done it differently, done it a little better, done it in a way that hurt less. But maybe there had been no other choice but to move on, lest they both turn to stone. Maybe both could be true—the necessity and the hurt.

But.

“But I’m sorry for not calling,” Killua says softly. He traces his thumb along Gon’s hand. “It’s just taken me a second to realize that us…becoming different people, I guess? That it wasn’t a bad thing. So thank you. For meeting me here when I called, and for giving me a chance, too.”

And different people they have become—and yet. And yet he still loves him. How strange and wonderful is that?

“I—I didn’t.” Gon’s voice finally breaks, tumbling off the edge.

He has snot running down his face, and his nose is all scrunched up. He takes two wet, gargling breaths, and Killua thinks it’s the most endearing thing he’s ever seen in his life.

After a few gasps, Gon reels it back with visible effort. It takes two rushes of sea water against the rocks below for him to gather himself. “I didn’t think I had the right to miss you,” he finally whispers.

Killua’s heart breaks with the next wave. “Gon…”

What does he even say to that? How does he convince Gon how wrong he is? Because Killua knows better than anyone what it’s like to feel unworthy. He knows the size and shape of that void, how it wraps its tendrils around the heart and squeezes.

He thinks of his sisters, their patience with and care of him. Of Ikalgo, of Leorio, Palm, Bisky. Of how they send him texts on his birthday and how they meet up every few months to grab dinner or lunch or even just a dessert, because they all know how much he and Alluka and Nanika love dessert. How they are always happy to see them, even despite the minor inconveniences that come with rearranging schedules and the occasional missed train or flight.

He thinks of how there will be no more needles, not for the rest of his life.

“It’s not something you earn,” Killua says. Perhaps he was wrong—all these years, he hasn’t avoided looking inward at all. He’s looked out, perhaps for the first time, at the people around him, the people who love him.

This, then, is what they’ve taught him.

“I love you,” Killua says. “And there isn’t anything you can do to convince me otherwise.”

He waits while Gon processes this. Watches how he stills, shoulders slowly withdrawing from his ears. He looks up at Killua, eyes bright as if he were facing the sunrise.

After a moment, Gon finally speaks. “I love you, too,” he says, and despite the tears, the quaver to his voice, his hands are finally steady. “And…I just. I need you to know. Even if you had never forgiven me…” His hand tightens. “After what I did, that was your right.”

Killua squeezes his hand back and tries to breathe.

Gon loves him. Oh, fuck. He loves him back. “Can’t get rid of me that easily, Freeccs,” he says weakly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Gon laughs—a gasping, joyous sound. “Please don’t,” he says. “Don’t go anywhere, that is.”

He loves him back, and they both want to stay. Miracle of fucking miracles.

Killua barks out a wet laugh, the relief so palpable it aches. “I won’t,” he says. "I promise.”

With Gon’s eyes on him, he slowly detaches their hands, then holds up his pinky finger.

On sealed with a kiss, Killua is the one who moves first. Gon meets him halfway.

He tastes like salt and sea air. His lips are chapped. His hair on the back of his neck is short and bristly between Killua’s fingertips, and he’s grinning so wide that Killua can feel his teeth.

They break apart.

“I love you,” Gon says again, the words more sigh than sound. He has the dopiest grin on his face that Killua is going to remember for the rest of his life.

***

(In the dream-that-is-not-a-dream, two boys stand on a cliff. One faces the land; the other, the sea. For the first time in living memory, they also face each other.

One boy holds out a hand. The other takes it, smiling.)

***

On their way down to meet the girls, Killua remembers—what he’d meant to say, what he’d realized when the whales had sung their way home. What he’s felt all this time.

“Gon?”

Gon pauses. Turns.

Killua grins and presses their hands to his lips. “I missed you, too. So, so much. Like, it’s really stupid how much.”

Gon just laughs, the joy in his voice ringing across the cliffs. Out to sea.

***

On the final night of the festival, the three of them walk through the stalls of the town square. Warm light bathes the early evening, and a breeze makes the crowd feel cozy instead of claustrophobic.

Gon’s hand is slightly sweaty in Killua’s right hand, and Alluka and Nanika’s are slightly dry in Killua’s left.

“Aunt Mito would love this,” Gon says at a stall that sells little glass whales. He peers closer—the seller has all kinds of glass sea creatures—stingrays, dolphins, starfish. She has streaks of gray in her hair and laughter lines around her eyes that crinkle when she winks at Killua.

“Pick one out,” Killua says, already opening his wallet.

“No, I’ll pay for it,” Gon insists. He picks up one of the animals and examines it—a little blue whale. “I’m going to visit her after this anyway.”

Killua tries to keep his voice nonchalant. “So am I,” he says.

Gon freezes, and beside him, Alluka smiles.

“What…what’re you saying?” Gon asks. He’s still holding the whale in his hand.

Killua clears his throat. “If it’s, uh. Okay with you Aunt Mito and Abe. And you, of course,” he says. This sounded a lot less lame in his head when he was rehearsing this morning. He’s pretty sure either Nanika or Alluka heard him practicing in front of the mirror while Gon was out buying lunch, based on the thumbs up they flash him behind Gon’s back, but whatever. “It’s been a long time, so I’d like to go with you. Pay a visit.” He looks at his shoes. “If that’s okay?”

Silence. Killua’s heart feels like it’s going to leap out of his chest. How is this still so mortifying?

“Of course it’s okay,” Gon says, rushing forward and tackling him in a hug. The relief Killua feels is just as physical. “Oh, Killua.” He holds both sides of Killua’s face in his hands and kisses him, warm flash of lips on both cheeks. “Yes, of course. We would love to have you.” He looks at the girls. “And you guys should come too!”

Killua doesn’t think he’s ever seen them look so delighted, the look on both their faces rivaled only by, perhaps, the first time they’d ever tried ice cream. “After finals,” Alluka says, that gleam in her eye.

Nanika nods. “We didn’t forget our promise. He’s all yours.”

“Ah,” Gon says, nodding. “Well, I’m honored—I’ll take good care of him, I promise. And you both are welcome to visit anytime.”

“Wait,” Killua says. Alluka is nodding—what the hell is happening? “What promise?”

“We made a deal at the World Tree, remember?” Alluka says. “We got to steal you for a little bit—”

“—And now we’re releasing you,” Nanika finishes. She makes a little flourish with her hands. “Be free.”

“What am I, a fish?” Killua mutters.

Someone clears their throat, and the four of them startle—the woman at the booth is still smiling at them, but it’s a bit gentler than before. “Excuse me,” she says. “This is lovely, but there seems to be a queue forming. Have you made your decision yet?”

Killua looks at Gon, still clutching the glass whale. It’s beautiful—swirling dark blue on its belly and little black raindrops for eyes. It seems to glow in the palm of Gon’s hand, the light of the lanterns shining through the glass as light shines through water.

Golden.

Gon nods.

“Yes,” Killua says. He points at the whale in Gon’s hand. “This one, please.”

The woman smiles. “Excellent choice.”

Killua agrees. It is, he knows, the last in a long line of choices that have led them all here, and the first that begins the rest of their lives.

“I love it,” Gon says. Alluka nods in agreement, and so does Nanika.

Killua feels so warm. He doesn’t believe he’s ever felt warmer in his life.

He smiles. “Then let’s bring it home, shall we?”