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He wasn’t going anywhere when it happened, honestly. Walking. Wandering. Alluka was happily under Bisky’s wing, and took less and less kindly (though she hid it decently well) to him dropping in to check on her. Killua stopped taking the odd job to pay Bisky when she nearly punted him out her window for it. His friends were busy, on hunts of their own, doing whatever, and Killua was living, he guessed. Like he’d been doing. Traveling, trying foods he never did before, buying clothes Alluka might like, chasing thunderstorms. Whatever catches his slightest fancy, because all he had at the moment was slight fancies.
So he was a little aimless, and a little lonely, and a little lost in his own head, and he nearly crushes the steel railing he was leaning on when the voice rang out.
“Killua!”
It was distant. Made up for it in sheer volume. Killua knew, immediately, that there was nen bolstered behind it. Killua knew, intimately, what that meant. There was lightning under his skin and blood in his mouth. Nine years. Rounded up, a whole decade. Practically half of Killua’s life. It’s been what felt like a lifetime, and yet it hasn’t been anywhere near long enough for Killua to be ready. Just long enough for him to do and be anything but ready, and then get gutted with the awareness of how exactly none of that near-decade was spent on the most important training possible.
Not that he deluded himself into thinking that could be enough, or even something he could “train for”, but come on, now.
Killua turned, because nine years later he was still a pathetic idiot, and saw Gon’s waving wildly from several blocks down.
“Killua!” Gon cried out. He was getting closer. Gaining detail with every step until Killua could make out his hair, his grin, the buttons on his pants, the stitching of his jacket– “Killua! Killua!”
Every call of his name was louder, more desperate. Like if Gon didn’t keep saying Killua’s name, he’d vanish right in front of his eyes. Killua stared the other man (and he was a man, now, barely a trace remaining of the boy Killua had escaped) down like he was a speeding car, with all the same sort of static stillness as a criminal on an execution platform. The look on his past friend’s face was near manic. His eyes wide, his smile too bright.
“Killua!” Gon screamed, and Killua knew.
If he ran, Gon would chase him.
He couldn’t run. Killua knew, of all things, he could not run. Gon wouldn’t be able to help himself. He would give chase the moment Killua’s back was to him. Maybe even before then. It was practically built into Gon, was a hair trigger sort of instinct that couldn’t be beaten or bred out– if he smelled the sting of ozone, the hint of godspeed…
But was this better? Standing still, not breathing, impossibly hoping he wasn’t noticed? Pretending he hadn't spoken at all? Killua was a liar. He was born a liar, and despite it all he knew he’d die a liar– and none of that fucking mattered, because Gon could always somehow sense the lie the moment it left him. There was no hiding. There was no acting. There was no winning in standing still.
Gon was already chasing him. Gon had probably been chasing him for months, to have that sort of frayed restraint twisting his expression. What was Killua doing differently, by refusing to run?
The other skidded to a stop a perfect twelve inches away from the tip of Killua’s toes. Killua could see his pulse, hammering hard and fast in his throat. He could feel the numbness of Gon’s aura, spilling out like a cracked bucket even as he pulled it taut to his skin. It itched up and down his arms. It raised the hairs along the nape of his neck, pushing through even the cold sweat.
Gon’s face was unreadable but for hunger. “Killua,” Gon breathed. His eyes were huge, unblinking. He stepped half of that foot closer. “I–”
Godspeed crackled under Killua’s skin. Instant. Irreversible. The choice snatched right from his hands. Gon’s eyes went wild and dark.
He lunged, but Killua was already gone.
Fast! Gon was much faster than he was before– More confident about it, too, with the way he forewent any zetsu – Killua could feel his hatsu ricochet through the very earth as he pushed off after him. Could feel the signature of his aura flying through the air. Killua zigzagged through the city in nauseating twists yet Gon remained hot on his tail. Killua threw himself halfway through the city in a bounding leap, and yet there was Gon behind him. Killua ducked through a dense maze of construction and yet there was Gon behind him. Killua scaled a skyscraper, claws ripping through steel and concrete, and yet there was Gon.
Not close enough to catch him, not close enough to even see him, and yet he never fucking gave up. He charged after Killua with singular purpose. Mindless drive. Cold, steely determination– all aimed at Killua.
Killua let the thought of that go from fear, to pride, to fear again– he let it sink into his gut and contort itself into terror.
Give up! Just give up! Killua grit his teeth. His ren erupted tenfold. Thunder roared in his ears. Killua felt the lick of lightning like a distant slice of a blade, saw without looking how it jumped off his wind-bitten skin in explosive arcs. Weaving in and out. Threading through every muscle until Killua was little more than a live wire, reactive to every atom in the air. Give up, damn it, Gon! Give up on me!
Gon’s oppressive aura jerkily loosened its hold on Killua the farther he ran. By the time Killua had weaved his way out of the suburbs and into the surrounding mountains, he was near far enough to completely escape him. At least for the moment. Gon was fast, but he could never hope to match Killua’s top speed. It was his endurance Killua was more worried about. He was far, far faster, but where Killua exceeded his speed and his waiting patience, Gon was simply persistent.
Eventually, Killua would run out of charge. Eventually, he would slow to a stop. And there Gon would be, as steady as a damn rock, just as unwilling to give up on anything, even Killua, as he was a decade before.
Why now? Why now, of all time and places? What was the difference? What was so important, so peculiar, about Killua’s life now that Gon would attempt to find him? Did it have anything to do with Killua, even, or was it Gon himself? What changed?
Did it matter? Killua chewed on his lip until he tasted iron. Gon’s aura ebbed in the distance. Following Killua’s scent, or the lingering static of godspeed– who knew? Who cared? It didn’t matter how Gon found Killua– only that he would. There were many ways Gon hunted, before. There were probably even more now. Methods Killua himself had never seen him develop or watched him use. An unknown variable that Killua couldn’t judge, because Gon wasn’t trying to hurt him, he was trying to do worse!
Killua gritted his teeth. His heart raced dangerously fast, pounding unevenly against his ribs. His hands flung out– claws ripping through dirt and stone and trees in a fumbling, flailing attempt to slow to a stop. His body didn’t want to. His legs throbbed. Blood roared in his veins, muscles shrieking shrilly in protest. He felt hot and cold and his palms were sweating and Killua stumbled, wobbling, weak as a baby deer. He fell to his knees and crawled, trembling, to duck behind the nearest tree he could.
The world hazed in and out, too bright and too green and too loud. Killua swallowed over and over. He clenched his hands tight to his chest, pressing the backs of his hands to his chest. His nails wouldn’t go back to normal. He couldn’t force them, even with all his training. Killua wasn’t sure he wanted to.
His brain was ringing, screeching every warning bell it knew. He was going to fucking vomit.
Why-Why-Why-Why!?
What did I do to deserve this, this time!?
Killua gasped. He knew the moment Gon crossed the threshold into the wilderness– felt when his nen blinked out, leaving Killua reeling.
Hiding from him. How ironic– Gon hiding from Killua. Killua wanted to laugh. He felt it rise up in his throat and he swallowed, and swallowed, and swallowed, because whatever would come out if he left it would either be hysterical or bile. Killua forced himself to his feet. Pinched at his thighs until they turned red, speckled bruising beginning under the skin. Until his knees stopped buckling and he could feel his toes again.
His aura roared to life, desperate to feed off of his anxiety. Killua threaded lightning through his legs. It burned like hot oil through him, sparked ominously, turning all his hair on end– and broke into a grim sprint. He crossed over as much of the mountains as he could in a loose grid, reaching out to trail his hands along every blade of grass and tree and even animals he passed. He hadn’t worked up enough of a proper sweat. Cold sweat would have to do. Killua swiped at his nape and under his arms, wiping off his sweat in every random place he could find.
He felt supremely stupid, smearing his own sweat under a rock, but if it stopped Gon down it was worth it. If it slowed Gon down even by seconds it was worth it. Anything to buy precious time. Stave off the past just the slightest bit longer!
Killua paused at the first puddle he saw and shoved his arms up to the elbow in mud. Augh. Disgusting, but worth it. Killua scrubbed it up his arms, over his knees, onto his cheeks– he considered, for a moment, even putting it in his hair. Just a moment. No, that was enough. Pushing off the ground, Killua set his eyes on the first glitter of water he could see and set off at a breakneck pace, using a single spark of godspeed.
After that, he wouldn’t allow himself to break his zetsu. Godspeed bought time, but that was all it afforded him, against Gon. Hopefully the mud would be enough to throw off a trail directly to water. Keep him just a little more occupied on the random scent marks rather than Killua’s real path.
He dove into the lake soundlessly, barely rippling the surface. The mud washed off but that was fine. The lake would be enough. It would have to be enough. Killua stayed beneath the still surface, rappelling along the bottom. Disturbing as little mud as possible with every kick. Who knew what would be the next hint Gon would use to hunt him down? Who knew what the next straw would be? A single trace was one too many.
Killua only broke the surface once he hit the other end of the lake, lungs screaming– and immediately began moving again back towards the city. He stripped off his waterlogged shirt, burying it along the shoreline. It wouldn’t stay under long, but the lake wouldn’t wash it up before he was long gone. Better that than a trail of water behind him. Killua briefly considering kicking off his shorts, too– but no. No. He would manage. He wasn’t that desperate, yet. Gon was still decently far behind him.
He wrung out his shorts, flicking water back into the lake. It was going to be fine. Killua was fast whether using his nen or not. More importantly, he was untraceable. No light show, no stench of ozone. Gon could persistence-hunt him all he wanted, but if Killua wanted to disappear then he would disappear.
His phone chimed.
Killua froze. He unzipped the (thankfully, lined with waterproof material,) pocket in his shorts. His phone blinked cheerfully up at him.
Hi Killua! It’s almost eleven, are you busy?
It… wasn’t Gon. Killua swallowed thickly. Traitorous disappointment twisted like a knife in his gut. Killua didn’t let it. He stomped it down, broke it into something resembling anger. But it was too cloying, too oily. It kept trying to crawl its way up his throat and out his mouth. It tasted like blood and bile. Killua clenched his jaw tighter and tighter, until his molars creaked. He breathed out slowly and controlled. He typed a reply.
smth came up cnt call rn later pto
Okay. Good enough. Killua turned it off without waiting for a reply and jammed the phone back into his pocket. Alluka had gotten enough texts like that before; she wouldn’t immediately worry. She’d assume he needed to shut his phone off for a job and that was that. He was in for a long phone call later, but that was fine. Killua could do that.
It was one of the most important rituals he had, calling with Alluka every morning, and he was not going to break it for anything or anyone. Not even Gon.
He’d call her back that night, once he got... rid of him. Go back to the normal life he was enjoying before Gon tried to come back into it. The life he had spent a whole decade building without him.
Heat stung Killua’s eyes, familiar and pathetic. He scrubbed at them harshly. Let himself sob, just once, weak and wet and stupid, because he never just could fucking learn, could he? He was still the same damn coward, running away and crying over things he couldn’t change, that had nothing to do with him.
He was so fucking sick of this.
Sniffling, Killua kept walking. He let the tears flow freely down his face. They wouldn’t stop, and he was already soaking wet anyway. All he was doing was getting gross lake water in his eyes trying to get rid of them. Besides, there was no one to even hide them from. No Alluka, no Nanika, no Bisky or Leorio. He was fucking alone. He could scream his heart out and not even Gon was around to hear it.
Just him, in the middle of nowhere. And who did he have to blame for it but himself? The reality of it all was setting in. Panicked hysteria dribbling out, making way for the nostalgic, steady IV drip of misery. Fuck. Fuck, man, fuck…! He was a lost fucking cause. He was… was…
Another sharp pang ate at his heart, squeezing the air out of Killua’s lungs. His breathing stuttered out of its steady rhythm. Killua couldn’t seem to make it go back. His body wasn’t willing to listen to him, leaving him feeling oddly nauseous even as his steps remained steady and light through the undergrowth. His insides felt like they were eating themselves. Killua wanted to rip them out. Wanted to curl up like he was dying. Wanted to sink his claws into his stomach and pull. Wanted– He just wanted– fuck, what was he doing?
Killua chanced a glance behind him through blurry eyes. The lake was far. He’d walked a lot, already. Had covered more distance than he was comfortable admitting, without being aware of it. The city lights bled through the trees, glittering on the horizon.
He stared at it for a long moment. His mind was eerily blank. A buzzing numbness was rooting itself in his belly, combing out into his hands, his toes, curling behind his eyes. Gnawing at the twisting misery until he was cold and empty without even the glare of anger or the spark of fear. He was right back where he started.
Gon was somewhere in the woods behind him, searching the mountains for Killua, and Killua was– here. Like nothing ever happened. Just a lot wetter, and dirtier, and exhausted.
He wouldn’t bother showering. Probably wouldn’t even change. He definitely wasn’t ever getting that shirt back. Killua was never coming back to that lake, period. If he had it his way, Killua wouldn’t go back to the little room he had staked out of his current hotel, or even the city he was in. It was all poisonous, now. Tainted beyond repair. He hoped he never even thought about it again, let the day die back in his memories like none of it ever, ever happened. Pretend Gon wasn’t ever there, and never found him, and Killua was just dreaming like always about things that didn’t exist.
But he had promised Alluka gifts. Pretty, sparkly new charms to weave into her hair. Nanika had learned all her colors just to choose which kinds she wanted, and everything. After already failing to call them that morning on top of that? Alluka was annoyed enough with him being overbearing. Killua couldn’t risk… no, he just didn’t want to let down his sisters.
They deserved the best. He loved them, he wanted to spoil them, and it made all three of them happy. That was all. He couldn’t let himself think about things like risks and rewards. Love wasn’t bought or sold. Especially not his sisters’, for him.
Alluka, of all people, didn’t love him with conditions. If Killua ever fell into that tar pit, that yawning maw in himself that said not true, I couldn’t never have that, I don’t deserve that when it came to Alluka then he was too far gone to ever be better. Killua had lost Gon, that way. He had lost Gon in more ways than once, that way, and he would make the same mistakes over and over but not for Alluka, not to Alluka.
Killua was already pulling his phone back out as he stepped out of the treeline, eyes fixed on the black screen.
A hand clapped onto his wrist.
Killua twisted his arm sharply. His claws aimed for soft flesh, electricity sparking between his fingers.
A second hand grabbed that wrist. The world spun.
A strangled hiss was forced out of Killua as he was forcibly tugged off his feet. His back hit a broad chest. Muscled arms wound around him. They kept an unbreaking grip on his wrists as they moved, pinning Killua in a bear hug that lifted him off the ground. Killua snarled. He thrashed violently, nen cushioning the back of his head.
The impact felt like it rattled his eyes out of his skull. Killua grit his teeth against the pain and kicked out, aiming for the groin. It was like kicking reinforced steel. Killua’s heel throbbed but it was worth it for the way his assailant cursed, knees nearly buckling enough to let Killua’s toes touch the floor. It was wild he was picked up at all. Killua was taller than most people, bar maybe his dad, or fucking Illumi, and he certainly wasn’t easy to just pick up like a street cat–
No. No way. He had to be fucking kidding.
“Gon?!” Killua yelped. His arms flexed uselessly. The hold was downright ridiculous. He sooner could break the sound barrier than he could the hands locked around his wrists. They didn’t tighten, even as Killua struggled, diligently careful not to cause pain even as they refused to let go. Killua had no wiggle room to even feel the friction of callouses. “What the fuck are– put me down! ”
“K-Kee-woo-wah!” Gon sputtered. Something hot and wet splattered against the nape of Killua’s neck. “Jus’, Jus’ lissen ‘o me fw’a se’und!” He breathed hotly against Killua’s wet skin, grappling awkwardly with him in an attempt to pin Killua’s calves between his knees.
“Fuck you! No!” Killua hated himself for the way all his hair stood on end. Goosebumps pimpled up and down his arms and across his ribs. He twisted his spine, hips swiveling, trying to gain momentum. Gon yelped as their center of gravity shifted. He leaned forward the slightest amount and the toe of Killua’s sneakers hit the dirt. He snapped his heel down. Pulled, hard, yanking them both off balance.
Gon finally swung into his vision as the man sailed over Killua’s head. His face was smeared with red and his eyes were wide, pupils huge and black. His teeth were bloodied where he bared them, hissing as he thumped against the ground.
He barely got to look for a second. Killua shrieked as he was pulled after Gon, wrists unsuccessfully freed– his front teeth knocking so hard into Gon’s collarbone he swore he’d lose one. Gon pinned his hands between them, pressed tight against their chests. Killua’s knees ground into the dirt, soles pushing down for leverage. His hips fell flat to Gon’s with a shocked puff of air into Gon’s skin as the other swung his fucking steel-corded muscled legs up and around him, locking his legs in place.
Killua made a low, inhuman noise, a terrible mix of rage and unknowable fear. He struggled, if for nothing but to say he did.
He wasn’t going to get out. He knew he wasn’t. Gon got him fair and square. But that didn’t mean Killua had to accept that, because fuck him!
“Why are you fighting me?!” Gon grunted, veins bulging with the effort he used to hold Killua still, “Why are you so… so…!”
“‘Cause fuck you!” Killua shouted, voice muffled against Gon’s chest. “Fuck you, Gon, you don’t get to– let go, you fucking– you–” His voice, his traitorous, fucking voice, broke, “Fuck you! ”
Why-How could you- How could you-Why-Why-Why–
“Why now!?” Killua wailed, shaking, “Why do you just have to show up again, like nothing ever happened, when I’m finally getting better!?”
He pressed his eyes shut. The tears welled up anyway. They squeezed out between his lashes. Soaked into Gon’s tank top, wet with sweat and blood and dirt. “Why couldn’t you just g-give up?” Killua sobbed, high and reedy. He shook like a baby on top of Gon, unable to lift his head to look at the man’s face. His head spun. He was going to pass out. He was going to die. He hoped he did. Killua couldn’t stop talking. “Why cou-couldn’t I just f-fuck-ing give u-up on you?”
Gon was so quiet. He couldn’t even feel his heart beating, under him. Killua couldn’t register anything but the tightness choking his throat and the blood pounding in his ears.
Why was this happening to him? Why was this still who he was?
Killua raised his head and let it fall, thumping pathetically against Gon’s collar. The fight had sputtered out of him. His fingers were sharp, nails honed into razor tips, pressed right against Gon’s skin, but Killua couldn’t find it in him to so much as twitch them. He felt like soup. He breathed raggedly, gulping repeatedly in an attempt to drag the lump in his throat back down. It didn’t help. He pretended it did. “P-Please,” Killua said, quiet, wrung raw, “just… let go…”
Before we end up right back where we started. Before I hurt you again. Before I get hurt again. Before any of the endless ways we’re bound to go wrong.
There was no reply. Not one Killua could register. He wasn’t fit to do anything but lay on top of Gon, limp as a doll. He pressed his nose hard into warm skin. It hurt. His lashes were gunked up and his eyes were swollen, and Killua couldn’t just stop crying and he didn’t care anymore. He just wanted– needed to lie there. He just needed to pretend. Just for a moment. Just long enough so that he could breathe and think without throwing up. Just until he could drag himself into the assimilation of a person, again.
Killua laid still, and silent, and limp as a corpse. He laid there until the ringing in his ears was quieter than the thump of a heartbeat and the ragged wheeze of air. He laid until there were pins and needles in his fingers and lips in his hair.
Killua blinked. “Gon?” he whispered hoarsely, the sound dragged painfully out of him.
“Killua.” The shape of his name, murmured against his scalp. The sharp line of a jaw, nudging against his forehead. Gon’s chin scraped over Killua’s damp hair as if he was trying to pet him with it. “Can you hear me?”
Shame boiled weakly in his gut, and petered feebly out. Killua continued to breathe. He kept his face turned down into Gon’s skin. That heart beat, steady and strong as a drum, purring against Killua’s lips. “...Yeah.”
“Good.” Another pass of Gon’s mouth, pressed light and delicate between Killua’s tresses. He could probably taste the lake water. He could definitely smell it. Didn’t seem to care in the slightest, though, pressing the lightest kiss after kiss to Killua’s head. “I’m sorry.”
Killua’s eyes welled up all over again. He hadn’t realized it had even slowed, having become sluggish and muddy. His mouth was parched when he managed to work it open. “F-for what?”
“For scaring you.”
“You do that all the time.” It came out more bitter than intended. Killua pressed his forehead harder into Gon’s chest.
A thumb stroked down the bone jutting from Killua’s wrist. The hold didn't loosen in the slightest. “I know. I’m sorry for that, too. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to. I spent a long time learning what that meant. And a long time for how not to do it again.”
“What could you call right now,” Killua accused. “You’re still…” He wiggled pointedly. His claws grazed Gon’s skin. Not enough to break it. Just to remind him.
“Will Killua run? If I let him go?”
Yes. No. “I don’t know.”
Gon squeezed. Released. Squeezed. Just enough for Killua to feel it. The reassuring press of warm skin. The weight of a touch. Gon’s lips roved to his forehead, speaking into the clammy skin. “Is he unhappy, being held like this?”
No. Yes. “I don't know.”
Another squeeze. Gon’s hands shook. “Does Killua hate me, for what happened? For taking so long to come find him?”
I don’t know. “No.”
The breath releasing from the body under him trembled all the way through Killua and ruffled his hair. Gon’s voice was wobbly, when he asked, “Can we try again?”
Killua didn’t think he still had it in him to cry. He sniffled. His hands finally softened from claws to fingers. They curled into Gon’s shirt. Clenched until the fabric strained and tore.
Yes.
“Yeah.” he swallowed thickly. “I’d… like that.”
Gon let go of his wrists. Killua’s hands didn’t twitch from the front of his shirt, fingers locked stiffly into dirty fabric. He breathed harshly as Gon’s arms circled around him, holding him so delicately to his body that if Killua had any more water in him would have made him outright weep. “I missed you,” Gon tried to say. The words strangled into a whine. “So much. I w-worked… worked really, really h-hard. To be all-allowed to. To even, t-think of, of…”
He shook his head. Crushed Killua to him, more firmly. Killua felt the air leave him in a single, relieved gust. He held onto Gon like the other would be ripped away from him. He was trembling. Shaking like a tiny animal left in the snow. Killua finally managed to move, to tilt his head up, and his heart stopped. Gon looked down at him, face twisted in agony. His honey eyes were filled with tears, dark with the same misery Killua felt clench in his gut every time he looked in the mirror. His face was wet with blood still dripping sluggishly from his nose. It was definitely broken. Gon didn’t seem to care. He didn’t even seem to remember it. “I’m, I’m sor-rr-rry,” Gon finally cried, almost wailing with it, “I t-took so lo-oong!”
He curled inward, sobbing like a child, Killua cradled close to his heart.
“I m-miss-missed Killua so, so m-uch,” Gon whimpered, “I don– I don’t wanna be apart, a-anymore, ple-ease…”
Killua had been a liar his entire life. He was a liar and a pretender and he– he didn’t want to keep doing this. He didn’t want to be this anymore. He never did. He didn’t– know how to do anything else.
He could learn, couldn’t he? Surely– surely?
“I…”
Gon’s huge, pained eyes. Familiar and brown and wide, framed in an adult face Killua still saw remnants of in his nightmares. Twisted in despair Killua pretended not to recognize, and desperation that Killua spent nine years calling pathetic on his own features.
Fuck… what had he been doing?
Killua made his choice. He made it the same way he did every day of nine years, ten years, twelve.
“I’m… I’m sorry, for— for everything. It wasn’t— real. N-none of it was… I… I'm, fuck, I'm j-just sorry.” Killua squeezed his eyes shut. Forced them back open. He swallowed his beating heart and made eye contact, willing himself to speak. “I missed y-you too. I’d– I’d like that. To try again.” He flushed. Unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “With you.”
His choice smiled at him, wobbly and raw, bottom lip trembling and blood leaking down his chin– so radiant the pain washed from his face and left behind the boy Killua still saw remnants of in his dreams.