Work Text:
They’re all sick. Leorio thinks Gon must have been the one to bring it home, since he’s the one who never cleans his hands, especially not before eating. Leorio chooses to blame him, even though he has no actual proof, because he’s sick and uncomfortable, and so is his husband, and he needs to be mad about it.
If he were being fair, he’d probably remember it’s flu season so it’s equally likely any one of them brought it. He does not want to be fair.
It feels like misery is leaking out of the very walls with how they’re all acting. Everyone is in a perpetually sour mood, refusing to properly speak with one another. Even the barest passing comments result in being snapped at. Tensions are running high.
The best part is it’s really nothing more than the flu. Sore throat, muscle aches, fever, chills, a bit of a cough. That’s basically it.
It takes three days for Leorio to start feeling better. Gon is next, then Kurapika a few days later. Their fevers lower to degrees manageable with nothing more than light clothing. The aches abate and their throats stop hurting so terribly they can’t eat. Within a week they’re nearly back to normal.
All except for Killua. He stays curled up in the living room chair, wrapped in a fluffy blanket, a cold rag on his forehead as he watches Gon play games. He hasn’t gotten even a little bit better in the week since he’d originally caught whatever bug this is. If anything he seems to be getting worse.
“I’m really worried about him,” Leorio tells Kurapika, both of them standing in the boys’ doorway, watching Killua’s chest rise and fall. His breathing doesn’t sound too bad, but it could absolutely be better.
“I’m sure he’ll get over it,” Kurapika says, leaning into Leorio’s arm. “Some people are just hit harder than others, right?”
“Yeah,” Leorio agrees, reluctantly. “He’ll be fine.”
Leorio wakes up for water that night, around three in the morning. The house is quiet, calm, it’s a nice night. Offhandedly, right as he’s about to head back to his bed, he decides he wants to check on Killua.
He pushes open the door as softly as he can, wincing at the squeak of the hinges. Hallway light enters the room, illuminating it at the perfect angle for him to view Killua.
The poor boy’s chest is rising and falling rapidly. His sweaty forehead glints in the light, his pallor nearly matching his hair. His head thrashes back and forth, his face twisted up in pain. Beneath his eyelids his eyes move, quickly and erratically.
Leorio is at his side in moments. He’s afraid to touch. Killua has dangerous reflexes, and Leorio thinks that waking him when he’s already having a nightmare is probably not the best idea. But Killua is tossing and turning and panting, and Leorio’s heart is aching.
“Killua,” he says, softly. “Killua, wake up.” Killua doesn’t, so, cautiously, Leorio lays his hand on his head. The heat sinks into his palm. Killua’s fever has definitely risen, and while he doesn’t know by exactly how much, it is almost certainly dangerously high. With the other hand he gently shakes Killua’s shoulder. Eventually his eyes open, shiny, blue, and half lidded.
“Mmm-uhhhh,” Killua moans. He blinks.
“Hey, buddy, how do you feel?” Leorio asks, trying very hard to not sound as worried as he feels. Killua simply stares, tears pooling on his waterline. “Woah, don’t cry, you’re alright.” The boy sobs, face crumbling. “Come on, Killua, everything’s ok. Don’t cry.”
“Sorry,” Killua whimpers, a shaking hand coming up to cover his eyes. “I’m fine.” It lacks all the conviction Killua usually has, his voice trembling and a touch too high, like a whiny kid. He gets his hands beneath him, just barely, and pushes himself up, wobbling all the way.
“Killua, lay back down,” Leorio orders, gently. Telling Killua what to do sometimes ends in a fight, and Leorio doesn’t really want that to happen right now. “Stop, you’re fine, you just need some water and medicine, and rest. Lay down.”
“‘m ok.” Killus keeps pushing himself up until he’s almost seated.
“Why don’t we go back to sleep? Huh?”
“No, no, I can be awake.” Killua shakes his head.
“It’s ok, you don’t have to be,” Leorio soothes. Or, at least, he tries to. Killua vehemently refuses. “What’s wrong? Why do you need to be awake?” Killua looks at him with shiny, pleading eyes.
“It’s scary,” he breathes. His lips move for a moment like he’s physically searching for words. “I don’t feel good.” Leorio makes a sympathetic noise, and places a hand on the crown of Killua’s head, right atop his fluffy, sweaty hair.
“I’m sorry,” he says, running his hands soothingly through that hair. “Would it help if I stay with you?”
“I don’t want to see the monster,” Killua murmurs. He does, however, drop onto his side, eyes still wide open, but lying down nonetheless.
“Monster?” Leorio prompts, shifting so that he’s sitting cross-legged, his hand still moving robotically. “What monster is it?”
“Me.” Killua’s words are hardly audible, they’re so breathy. “I’m the monster.”
“You’re not a monster,” Leorio denies, automatically. This isn’t the first time he’s heard Killua refer to himself like that, but it’s the first time he’s ever heard him say it so seriously, without him joking. Killua just stares, though, like the reassurance doesn’t mean anything at all. Leorio moves on. “What does the monster do?”
“It kills,” says Killua. “That’s all it does. It kills.”
“Who does it kill?”
“You. Kurapika.” He swallows. “Gon.” A tear falls, sliding over Killua’s nose and dripping onto the pillow beneath him. “It has big claws, and it slices things. It likes blood. Likes to- to make them scared.” He shivers, looking frightened. “It’s scary.”
“It sounds scary,” Leorio agrees. “But it isn’t you.”
“It looks like me. I see it in- the blood. It looks like me.” Killua shifts, his knees coming up to his chest. He looks so young like this. Leorio doesn’t like it.
“That doesn’t mean it is you,” he insists. “You’re no monster. You never wanted to hurt anyone.”
“I did,” Killua says. “Sometimes I did.”
“I don’t believe you,” Leorio asserts. “I think they made you think you liked it. I don’t think you ever did.” Killua’s eyes droop. “You’re good. You are. There’s no monster. No one’s going to kill us.” Killua nods sleepily. “You go to sleep now, and I’ll stay here.”
“Keep the monster away?” Killua slurs, bringing a hand up to fist it in Leorio’s shirt.
“Yup, I’ll keep it away from you.” He affirms. Killua nods again, and his ever so slightly strained breathing evens out. “You’re safe, now.”
Killua’s fever has broken by the morning, and Leorio does not bring up the monster.