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so small and insignificant in the big wide world. no one to everyone and nothing to anyone but an empty shell of a cold murderer and no passion, needs, desires and hobbies except for bloodlust and death.
death was something so close and yet so far from reach. each day that passed, the thread seperating life and death only became thinner and thinner and he doesn't recall when he lost touch with reality the way he has now. it felt so natural; like he's always been like this. maybe there was never a before, maybe he was always like this. it felt like he had to. with every punch, kick, whip and electrocution it only became more apparent for him that he had no other purpose in life but to serve as a murder machine and later on take over his family.
but who wants to live a life like that, anyway? of course...no one. of course...not killua. he doesn't want that. but because he is who he is, he has no choice and his wants don't exist to be granted. there wasn't a difference between being alive and dead- except the latter which sounded more pleasant than his current.
every glance at his reflection was a new reminder of who he is. he couldn't escape from it no matter what. he couldn't escape from what he was shaped to become and his body, hair, muscle was all proof of it. there was truly no hope for someone like him. his family had succeeded in creating a cold blooded murderer and it was far too late for him to suddenly gain a change of heart.
it was sad to admit at first, but now that killua has grown used to this reaccuring thought it barely phased him.
it is only a passing thought, a reminder of who he's learnt to accept.
he has discarded the sadness, burrying it deep down in his heart and locking it behind a cold and heartless facade because emotion only brought an assassin down.
but to see a life so different from his- so normal to someone else and so abnormal to him made him feel something he doesn't quite know the name of. it hurt and stung and he regretted so much even though there wasn't anything to regret.
his hands were relaxed by his sides, his heart was empty of anything and anyone and all he did was idly and quietly watch gon jumping into his mother's arms as she covered him with love and care. it only lasted for a few seconds, but it was longer than anything he'd ever experienced in his entire life.
he didn't mean to stare, but it was just so bizzare. but he shouldn't quite be so surprised over it, giving his friend's joyful personality. it's no wonder he was engulfed in warmth and care growing up. it's obviously no surprise for him and it was something he was able to tell by just one look at gon, so why is it so surprising now?
he almost wanted to laugh. he knew they were so different. but why were they deserving of different things as well? wasn't he an innocent child once, too? was all he ever deserved then loneliness and cold?
a warm and frail hand fell on top of his cold shoulder, snapping him out of his deep thoughts. he felt tired, more than usual and despite not doing anything relatively physically tiring. he glanced up to see more unfamiliar warmth and light, he almost wanted to crawl away into a cave and hide from shame.
someone like him doesn't deserve warmth and light.
"you can think of this as your second home."
...
mellow. warm. home. he knows the dictionary definition of those three words, but he never understood them at a personal level. although when he entered your home he suddenly realized. the place wasn't extraordinary of any kind at all, if anything it was rather tardy, the furniture wasn't modern or even new and a lot of the decorations either hung up on the wall or sat on the tables were random with no aesthetic or color coordination. it wasn't an eyesore by any means, but it was obvious that there wasn't a single thought spared for such things. maybe they were objects that were gathered or brought home slowly throughout the years.
despite the flaws it felt warm. cozy, homey and relaxing even.
the food wasn't anything extraordinary either. he's had better before. the chefs that his parents have in their home cook only the highest quality food for the zoldyck's, with the perfect amount of nutriens and protein required to keep them at their best health and despite that he could easily say that he liked this food better than that which he's used to.
"the secret ingredient is that it's made with love!"
he laughed at his friend's response, who seemed dead serious with his words. doesn't he know how foolish he sounds? made with love? is there really such thing? it's childish and dumb.
but as he watched you cook, talking to him or gon about your day while you skillfuly cut up the vegetables before clumsily scrambling through the kitchen to the overflowing pot that you forgot about because of the conversation you were so caught up on. the sigh of relief you let out upon saving your food and the laugh you shared with gon over the little accident he felt he understood.
it's so easy to laugh at things or look down on them without knowing that you're truly the foolish one deserving to be looked down on that's missing out.
it was just food, but it made him want to cry.
...
soon he was able to put a word to the emotion he felt. it was envy, bitterness and yearning.
"i wish we met earlier. i wish i was born to this family instead!" he wanted to scream at the top of his lungs until his throat bled just to make sure the heavens above heard him to regret the decision and life they'd given him. to know he's still standing and hasn't yet given up like he always thought he has. to regret abandoning him down here.
he couldn't help the jealousy and envy he felt from his friend. he knew his friend meant no harm and that it wasn't his fault, but no matter how shameful or guilty he felt he just couldn't help it. he liked to think that he has the right to feel that way, giving his childhood circumstances.
he'd stand in the corner and watch as you peppered gon's face with kisses as he giggled and smiled without worries. as you held him tightly in your arms and whispered the love you had for him and listened to him talk on and on about stupid shit and no matter how god damn stupid and pointless it was you'd just sit there and listen attentively, even engaging with a few words or questions. gon was someone and he was someone precious to someone. he was a person.
he belonged somewhere.
she was his adoptive mother and they had a better relationship than he did with his biological mother.
was the so said connection of a child and their biological mother really all that true? if it was, how can his situation be explained?
killua could only stare.
...
"was there anything you needed, killua?"
no one has ever asked him that with such care.
"but you're still just a little boy."
"are you okay killua? did something happen?"
"you're welcome to stay here as much as you want and to come here whenever you want!"
and warmth engulfed him. it was so pleasant and comfortable his legs almost wanted to give out and he almost wanted to fall asleep. you held him tightly in your arms, squeezing softly and he felt like a person. someone that's not looked past or ignored, instead someone seen and someone real.
a sob left his parted lips before he slowly moved his arms to wrap around her figure. tears wet her shirt as he shoved his head deep in her shoulder, basking in the warmth and comfort of her hug.
he never wanted to leave and he never wanted to be anyone else than who he was this current moment.