Work Text:
Is this how it works?
Killua sticks a finger in the batter and licks it, his nose crinkling.
Too bitter...
He dumps more sugar in, and he can feel Bisky’s judging stare from a mile away.
“My goodness. I give you two brats a few hours to relax, and this is what you’re doing?”
Killua flinches and sighs, poking at the questionable monstrosity with a spoon.
“It’s for Gon…”
Bisky raises a brow, staring at the concoction.
“I know you kids are going through something rough, but is killing him really going to help?”
Killua sighs and shoves the spoon in deeper.
“I-I’m not trying to kill him! I just thought…”
Killua bites his lip and looks to the side.
“I thought it’d mean more if I made it myself…”
Tears well up in his eyes, and Bisky lets out a small sigh, walking over and patting him on the head.
“I know, kid. It hasn’t been easy for you brats.”
Killua stares at her in confusion, tears falling from his big blues.
“W-What?”
“I’ll help, although I don’t know how much we can salvage.”
ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹
Killua taps his knuckles softly against the door.
“G-Gon?”
He opens the door and steps in, holding the plate with a very deformed-looking piece of chocolate cake.
Gon is standing by the window, looking out of it with his fists clenched, and Killua closes the door quietly, exhaling.
“Gon?”
Gon turns around with a smile, but it feels fake in a way that makes him shudder.
“I made you this. The old hag helped… I thought it might…”
Help. Like it could really.
He shyly looks away and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, looking down and biting his lip.
Gon takes the plate, and Killua quickly turns away, grabbing the edges of his sleeves and pulling them over his hands, covering his eyes.
The fabric grows wet, and he hears the fork clink against the plate.
“Woah… Killua. This is… very good!”
Gon sounds like he’s straining on the words, and Killua can’t help but tilt his body, slowly peeking out to see Gon forcing a grin.
“Y-You don’t have to lie, idiot. I know it’s awful…”
Gon shoves another big bite into his mouth.
“Nope! ‘S gweat! You’d make a gweat wife someday!”
He speaks with his mouth full, and Killua blinks and goes red.
“S-Shut up, idiot! Don't just say things like that!”
Gon nods and keeps chewing, swallowing.
“But you would!”
Killua rubs at his eyes, and Gon cocks his head, his brows furrowing.
“G-Gon…”
His lower lip trembles, and he rushes forward, stumbling, gasping, his nose colliding with Gon’s chest.
“Whoa!”
Gon catches him, dropping the plate, and they both wince, hearing it shatter.
“Killua?”
Killua grips Gon’s shirt tight.
“S-Sorry… I felt woozy…”
It’s a lie. He just wanted to be close.
Close to Gon.
Gon looks down in worry, and he wraps his arm around Killua’s waist tighter.
“You okay, Killua?”
N-No…
“G-Gon… I’m so sorry…”
His shoulders barely tremble as tears soak Gon’s shirt, and Gon’s eyes go wide.
“Killua?”
Killua’s crying…
“It’s alright. ‘Cause Kite is fine!”
Killua flinches and raises his head slightly.
“G-Gon…”
He wants to believe it’s true… but…
He looks up into Gon’s eyes, and they still hold some sparkle of hope.
Killua moves his arms and wraps them around Gon’s neck, hiding his face again.
“Killua.”
Killua lets go reluctantly and quickly pushes away, heading to the mess of broken glass.
“I’ll clean this up—"
“Killua. You should rest.”
Oh. Right.
Killua smiles wryly and nods, weakly stumbling over to the bed and sitting down.
“Right. Need to be in tip-top shape to save Kite, right?”
So he can be a useful tool.
Gon’s brows furrow, and he walks over to the bed, taking Killua’s wrist.
“It’s not that.”
His grip tightens, and Killua winces.
“I don’t want to lose you, too.”
Tighter.
And those eyes are so cold. It scares him.
“G-Gon… you’re hurting me.”
Gon snaps out of his trance and lets go, his eyes going wide at the red blooming against Killua’s pale skin.
“Killua. I’m sorry.”
Killua shakes his head.
“No. It’s okay, Gon.”
He slumps over on the bed, his body feeling unnaturally heavy.
“I’ll just rest a bit…”
Normally, it takes everything he has to rest, but for some reason today, his eyelids just feel so heavy.
His eyelashes flutter over his eyes, and Gon stares at him, his brows furrowed.
“Killua,” he mutters gruffly under his breath.
Gon takes the blanket and pulls it over Killua, moving his hand to his forehead and moving a few strands of hair gently.
It’s hot.
How long has he been feeling unwell and telling no one? Did he even know himself?
Gon glances back at the plate, and his heart thuds painfully.
Killua whimpers and shifts, and Gon’s eyes go dark.
“Killua. If anyone tries to hurt you, I’ll tear them limb from limb.”
He sits on the bed, and Killua opens his eyes with a whine.
“G-Gon, what’s wrong?”
Even now… his concern isn’t on himself.
“Nothing, Killua.”
Killua doesn’t look convinced, but he closes his eyes.
“G-Gon… I know I don’t have any right to ask… b-but can you hold my hand?”
Gon’s eyes go wide, and he carefully intertwines their hands.
Killua sighs contentedly.
“Of course, Killua. And no matter what happens…”
“I’ll protect you.”