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How it began.
Unfortunately, they lost their chance to go to the NGL.
Killua would almost be glad for it if it weren’t for seeing Gon so anguished from failing.
If it weren’t for the mound of decapitated and torn apart dolls of Gon, stuffing scattered across the room like spilled blood.
If it weren’t Palm crouched over, gleaming knife in hand, muttering threats and dark promises under her breath, a hollowed broken look in her expression.
And if it weren’t for the fact that Gon decided to go along with her insane demands and date her.
Killua couldn’t believe it.
After the… date plans were made, Palm left, muttering something about finding the perfect dress, and Gon briefly left to make a phone call, scheduling something Killua would rather not know about, and Killua found himself alone, standing in front of the pile of decapitated Gon dolls, wondering what the hell had just happened.
He felt thawed out, vulnerable. Something twisted inside him, something ugly and unignorable. He sort of wanted to scream. To punch something.
But above all else, he wanted comfort.
He wanted someone to tell him that everything would be okay, that he was allowed to feel… whatever he was feeling about the situation.
But he didn’t have that someone.
His eyes fell to the dolls.
An idea formed. An embarrassing and inappropriate one. But as soon as it appeared, it took hold, and his body was moving before he could tell it not to.
It took only a brief search to find what he was looking for. Buried beneath the beheaded and sliced up carcasses of dozens of Gon dolls, lay a pristine, unblemished one, not a thread out of place. It had somehow survived Palm’s wrath.
Killua’s heart thumped.
He wanted it.
Badly.
Could he?
Killua’s head shot up, eyes darting around to see if anyone was looking. Not spotting a single soul, he grabbed the doll and unceremoniously stuffed it in his pants.
Sorry Gon, Killua thought internally. I have nowhere else to put you.
It made walking a bit awkward, but it would have to do for now. While his pockets could fit a lot, keeping the doll there would stick out too obviously. At least in the eyes of Palm. And the last thing he wanted was her finding out. Even though she was currently clothes shopping, she could return at any moment and he was under no impression that she would take kindly to her taking one of her lovingly handcrafted possessions. Even if she had destroyed the majority of them, the dolls were still hers. Taking one would no doubt be seen as a slight against her.
He would rather not deal with such a nuisance.
So he waddled, hoping that Gon wouldn’t appear, until he made it to their room where he kept his belongings. Safe from outside view, he slipped the doll out of his pants.
He looked at it. It really did look like Gon. It had his spiky green hair, and smile, and most impressively, his every day green outfit, accurate down to the little shoelaces and pockets. You could say a lot about Palm, but you couldn’t say she wasn’t dedicated. The details were incredible.
The fabric it was made from was soft in his hands.
It would probably feel nice to hug.
He bit his inner cheek, fighting the impulse briefly until he gave in.
He hugged it.
First, he felt embarrassed. He was too old to be hugging a doll, let alone one of his best friend, but the feeling quickly gave way to a sense of calm, His heart slowed and his head felt lighter, the softness of the fabric calming against his skin. And even though he knew logically it wasn’t really Gon, it was sort of nice to imagine it was. That it was Gon in his arms, soft hair tickling his chin.
There was the slam of a door from somewhere inside the building, and Killua jumped, dropping the doll. He quickly grabbed it and stuffed it into his backpack, piling clothes atop of it so it wasn’t visible when opened.
There it stayed for a long time.
The in between.
The Gon doll didn’t get to see the light of day much. Not until long after, when Gon had lost his Nen and they’d decided to make their seperate ways.
It took a while for it to truly hit him that he wouldn’t see Gon every day. That he wouldn’t have him by his side.
But he had Alluka.
And for a while, with so much to catch up on, and so much to do together, he barely thought of him.
But that didn’t mean he never missed him.
And when he did, it hit him acutely.
One night, he felt the pang of missing Gon so badly he felt restless. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t settle down.
But then he remembered the doll.
It hadn’t left his backpack since he first put it in. So after so much time, it had become crumpled and stuffed in the very bottom of his bag.
He drew it out and wiped it of the stray crumbs and hair-ties and dirt that had accumulated in the depths of the backpack, and immediately felt better.
It looked so much like Gon.
Without further hesitation, he closed his eyes, brought it to his chest and squeezed tight. It wasn’t quite big enough to truly replicate what he thought hugging Gon would be like, but it was enough for now, the sting of longing fading, just a tad.
He buried his face into the soft fabric and sighed.
“Killua?”
Panicked, he threw the doll so hard it hit the opposite wall, falling to the ground with a thud. His cheeks burned as he looked up at Alluka who was staring between him and the doll.
“…Okayyy. Didn’t mean to disturb you and… Gon.”
“Shut up,” he said, voice pitched higher than usual. “It’s nothing.”
“Right.”
His felt his cheeks get redder.
“Why are you embarrassed?” she asked, moving to where the doll was splayed sadly on the ground. “I don’t care.”
She picked it up, lips quirked as she gave it a single squeeze and tossed it back to him.
He caught it, and cradled it to his chest like it was fragile. Sorry for throwing you against a wall.
“It’s not weird?” he asked.
She snorted. “Maybe to some people, but I’m not judging you. I don’t think Gon would either.”
He didn’t know about that.
But he took that small permission and ran with it.
When he next slipped into bed, he took the doll with him too, hugging it until his eyes grew heavy.
And that night, he slept better than he had for a long time.
From that moment, it became the norm. Every night he would sleep with it against his cheek or chest, arms wrapped tightly around it, getting to the point where, without it, he couldn’t sleep. And by then, he wasn’t even ashamed anymore.
He would bring it with him everywhere and packed it surrounded by blankets to keep it protected. Alluka wouldn’t even blink an eye, though she couldn’t resist teasing him about it every now and then.
It became his coping mechanism, his one comfort.
How it ended.
A long time later, longer than Killua would’ve liked, they found each other again.
Gon was both similar and different now. His voice was deeper and his shoulders were broader, but they were slightly slumped as though weighed down, and he sometimes had a faraway look in his eyes. But he still had those freckles and that dimpled smile that made Killua’s heart hurt. There was a slight distance, one that was inevitably created from time apart. But it wasn’t uncrossable. One day that gap would narrow until it became non-existent. Killua was sure of it.
But first they had to dance through the uncertainty.
And so yet again, that craving came: The want for comfort. And his brain went to its most reliable and accustomed source of it.
The doll.
Just knowing it was in the bag was a comfort, but he was craving more. Chest tight, he drew it out and immediately he relaxed, feeling lighter from the soft fabric and the familiar green. Without hesitation, he sighed and pressed the doll to his cheek.
“What is that?” came a voice.
It was Gon.
“Nothing!” Killua squeaked, whipping the doll behind his back.
Gon cocked his head, eyes narrowing, trying to look over Killua’s shoulder. “It’s not nothing.”
“It is,” Killua insisted.
Gon drew closer, a smile on his lips. “It’s not. You were cuddling something and now you’re hiding it.”
“I’m hiding nothing and have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” Killua said, strained.
“Very convincing.”
“I’m telling the truth.”
“Right. And I’m normal about my friends,” Gon said flatly. “Fess up.”
“No.”
“Fine.” Gon sighed and shrugged with an annoyed but accepting frown and briefly Killua really believed that Gon was going to let it go.
But then he pounced. In one quick motion, he knocked Killua over, punching the breath from his lungs, arms snaking behind him, but Killua held strong, keeping the doll out of Gon’s reach and sight.
It became a full on brawl.
They rolled around shrieking, knees aiming for crotches, and elbows digging into stomachs. Their shirts stretched as they both fought to gain on the other, their positions flipping again and again as they tumbled across the floor, and despite the fear of Gon finding out about the doll, Killua grinned. This was so fun.
But inevitably, it had to end.
It should’ve been an even fight, but Killua was at a disadvantage. One handed and with more to lose, eventually Gon won out, sitting atop of Killua, hand clenched securely around the doll behind Killua’s back. It didn’t stay there for long. With one hard tug, Killua lost grip of it and Gon held his prize aloft triumphantly.
Until he realised what it was.
Gon’s mouth fell open. His eyebrows jumped up his forehead.
His eyes swept over the doll again and again, as though trying to make sense of what it was.
Killua looked away, cheeks heating with shame. He couldn’t look Gon in the eyes, unable to bear seeing the surprise turn to disgust, for Gon to cringe away, or to laugh at him.
Silence stretched interminably between them. It felt like torture.
Killua would’ve run away but he was still trapped beneath Gon’s body weight.
“Killua, look at me.”
He shook his head, eyes trained on the ground.
“Please look at me,” Gon repeated, voice soft.
He couldn’t resist Gon’s request, not when it was asked of him so nicely.
Their eyes met.
Killua’s breath caught in his throat.
Gon was looking down at him with bright eyes, and his cheeks were pink even through his tan. He was still holding the doll, almost cradling it.
“This is… this is of me, right?” he asked.
Killua frowned. Was Gon making fun of him? “Obviously.”
“Oh.”
Gon didn’t say anything else, and being unable to bear the silence anymore, Killua spat out, “I’m sorry. I know it’s weird and probably really disturbing to find out I have a doll of you, but I promise I didn’t make it or something. It was one of Palm’s, you know, from when she was stabbing a bunch of them? Well, there was one that was undamaged, and then I just sort of took it? And ever since I just looked at it, or… hugged it, whenever I missed you and—“ Killua groaned, palms pressed against his face. “Why did I say that? I’m making it worse. I’m sor—“
Gon made a noise that must’ve been disgust and Killua scrunched his eyes shut, trying to fight back tears. This was stupid. He was stupid. He should’ve expected this, or done the right thing in the first place and never taken one of the damn dolls.
“I’m so sorry,” Killua whispered.
“It’s not fair,” Gon said.
Killua flinched. “You’re right. It wasn’t fair of me to do that to you. I’ll get rid of it or—“
“No, it’s not that,” Gon said quickly. “Just it’s unfair, isn’t it? Why do you get to have a doll of me and I don’t get to have one of you?“
Killua’s eyes flew open.
“What?”
“Why don’t I get to have a Killua doll to cuddle when I miss you? I want that. Do you think we can get one made somewhere or do we need to ask Palm?”
“No thanks,” Killua gritted out, “Anything but that.”
Gon snorted. “You’re right. Wouldn’t want to give her the opportunity to stab you too.”
Killua laughed but he couldn’t fully relax. “You… you don’t find it gross or strange that I kept it?”
“Why would I?” Gon said plainly. “I… I think it’s sweet.”
“Sweet,” Killua said drily.
“Yes. Sweet,” he said, and then pressed his own Gon doll down to Killua’s lips, so he gave it a faux kiss. Killua pushed it away with a smile, but Gon had a funny look on his face.
“Is something wrong?” Killua asked.
Gon shook his head. “No, but… do you think it’s bad of me to be jealous of a doll?”
It took ages for Killua to understand the implication, and when he did he flushed what was sure to be a bright red. A rush of nerves ran through him, blood thudding hard in his head, but a kind of stupid courage appeared too. Gon had basically admitted to wanting to kiss him, right?
“You shouldn’t be,” he whispered. “Jealous, I mean.” When Gon said nothing, he continued. “Surely… surely you know that every time I hugged the doll I wished it was you.”
Gon eyes darted across Killua’s face, a smile split across his cheeks to showcase those goddamn dimples. “Oh really?”
Killua huffed, “Really.”
Gon’s gaze dipped to his lips briefly, and Killua’s breath caught in his throat, before he said, “You know, despite spending years together, we never hugged. Not once.”
“I know,” Killua said quietly. It had haunted him during their time apart, angry at himself for never having had the courage to ask.
“Can I hug you now?” Gon asked. He said it casually, but his smile had become strained, as though he genuinely believed that Killua might refuse him.
He couldn’t have that.
So just like he would with the Gon doll, he wrapped his arms around Gon and squeezed him tight so that the lines of their bodies met, but that was where the similarities ended. Gon was so warm in a way the doll couldn’t be, and his body weight pressed down against him made him feel safe and anchored. And then Gon hugged him in turn with strong arms and a huff of a laugh against his ear that tickled, and Killua felt his eyes prick with tears. He’d wanted this for so long.
Killua didn’t know how long they laid there locked in each other’s embrace, but eventually, Killua’s breathing slowed and his eyes grew heavy.
“Am I boring you?” Gon teased.
Killua shook his head. “You’re just so warm.”
“Hmm. Go to sleep,” Gon murmured.
And so, the Gon doll pressed between them, they fell asleep.
After much insisting, eventually Gon got a doll of Killua too and they made sure to always place the two dolls next to each other.
Forever side by side.