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Killua had learned very quickly that Gon was physically incapable of not helping someone in need. He was convinced it was hardwired into Gon’s brain or something. Killua found it incredibly endearing, but that didn’t make it any less inconvenient. He couldn’t even hazard a guess at the number of times Gon had made them stop in the middle of whatever they were doing to assist someone. He’d carried groceries for old ladies, found lost puppies, recovered stolen purses, and done what seemed like every other possible errand known to mankind.
And heaven forbid Killua tried to tell Gon no because they had somewhere to be, or people to meet, or any other obligation that they should definitely not be late for.
Gon would latch onto his arm and whine and pout that “It’ll only take two minutes Killua pleeeeaaaaaase,” and flash his biggest puppy dog eyes.
This would inevitably leave Killua blushing and flustered, relenting with a mumbled, “Fine whatever, but we’ve got to be quick.”
Then without fail, Gon would light up and cheer out a “Thanks Killua! We’ll be so quick I swear!” And he’d squeeze Killua’s arm and skip off to offer whatever help he could give, while Killua was left to sigh and press his fingers to his cheeks because he was still blushing like a moron.
It was basically routine at this point. Even after five years of friendship, Killua was still incapable of saying no to Gon.
In this particular case, they were definitely on a tight schedule, and they could not be late to meeting Leorio and Kurapika at a hotel to check in together. They had a ferry to board in the morning, the room was under Killua’s name, and Kurapika had no patience when he was tired.
As luck would have it, though, Gon spotted someone clearly in absolute, dire need of help; someone being threatened or murdered or something else equally awful. At least, that’s what it sounded like when he gasped sharply and whispered “Killua!” In a voice so urgent that Killua’s fingers sparked in reaction. He snapped his head up and followed Gon’s gaze to the other side of the road.
“Really, Gon?” Killua shoved at Gon’s shoulder, “I thought someone was about to die.”
“Sorry Killua,” Gon scratched the back of his head sheepishly, “She just really looks like she’s having a hard time.”
Killua sighed. The girl in question did look like she was having a hard time. He watched as she struggled to drag a nearly overflowing wagon full of groceries behind her, another bag spilling out of her other arm as she fought to keep the breeze from blowing her sun hat off her head. A handful of apples rolled down the dirt path, waxy skin glinting in the sunlight.
“Gon,” Killua warned. He turned his head to find Gon already pouting, lower lip jutting out pitifully, “Oh, come on.”
Gon clasped his hands in front of himself, foot scuffing the dirt, gazing sadly at the ground, “But we left early, Killua...” he trailed off quietly.
Killua threw up his hands, “Why do I bother?” He wondered aloud.
A grin crept across Gon’s face. Killua pointed at him threateningly. “If we’re late, you are explaining it to Kurapika, and I am not saving you.”
“Thank you Killua!” Gon exclaimed, throwing his arms around Killua’s shoulders in a brief, tight hug before skipping over to help pick the apples up from the ground.
Killua cleared his throat, smoothing his shirt down and willing away the flush at his cheeks before moving to join Gon. His skin tingles with the aftershocks of the hug.
“Excuse me miss,” Gon said brightly, apples in hand, “are you going far? That cart looks really heavy.”
The girl looked up, still clutching at her hat, and Killua watched her eyes widen the same way dozens before her’s had.
Killua had already acknowledged that maybe it wasn’t the inconvenience that bothered him the most about Gon’s unrelenting need to help people. Maybe, just maybe, it was the way that people looked at his best friend. He was well aware that Gon had grown into being tall and broad and strong. He’s watched the way people’s eyes have roamed over the freckled, sun kissed skin of his shoulders; the appreciation for the swell of muscle in his arms. Killua has watched people absolutely swoon when Gon has smiled at them. He can’t really blame them for that, because he knows what it’s like to be on the receiving end of Gon’s smile. It’s like looking into the human incarnation of a ray of sunshine on top of a rainbow.
Killua knows that Gon is attractive. He’d admitted that to himself long ago, with his face buried in a pillow to muffle his scream of frustration at the realization. However, knowing that doesn’t make it any easier to watch strangers fawn over him.
To make matters worse, but somehow better at the very same time, Gon is far too dense to realize that any of these strangers are indeed infatuated with him. Worse, because that makes them flirt harder to catch his attention. Better, because Gon has never responded to any such form of flattery. Killua’s favorite strangers are the ones that are too intimidated by Gon’s innate charm to even formulate the idea of making a pass at him. He thinks he identifies with them the most. He knows exactly how it feels to watch Gon, wistful, wishing and wondering and wanting.
Killua isn’t jealous or something, of course. It would be silly to be jealous, especially when he gets to spend day in and day out with Gon. They travel together, eat together, adventure together, laugh together. They do basically everything side by side. Being jealous of these strangers interacting with him for a few minutes would definitely be silly.
Well, maybe he’s a little jealous at the ease with which they try to show him their interest. Maybe he’s a teeny tiny bit frustrated that even at seventeen, after five years of Gon being the most important person in his life, he hasn’t been able to muster up the courage to even consider telling Gon how he feels. Killua keeps that locked up tight, pressed down into an ache in his chest that twists whenever Gon laughs. He can’t afford to mess this up, and he definitely can’t afford to lose Gon. He’s the one good thing that Killua has ever had in his life.
So sure, Killua grinds his teeth when girls bat their eyelashes at Gon. Which is exactly what this girl is doing as soon as she looks up at Gon’s brilliantly smiling face. She looks about their age, and if Killua was pressed, he guesses that he’d admit that she’s pretty. Sort of. If you’re into that sort of thing. She’s shorter than both of them, with a sweet heart shaped face and green eyes. Her red hair falls in waves over her shoulders, and the flowered sundress she’s wearing accentuates the hourglass shape of her figure.
Her expression easily slides into a grateful smile as she stares at Gon. Killua doesn’t miss the way she appreciatively sweeps her eyes over Gon’s shoulders. “Oh, I live just up the road,” she points somewhere back the way that Gon and Killua had come from. “I, ah, kind of overestimated how much I could pull in this wagon,” her cheeks flush, and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, looking up at Gon through her lashes. She has yet to acknowledge that Killua exists, and he can feel his irritation building. Not because he wants to be acknowledged, but because of how obviously smitten she is with Gon.
“I’m Gon! This is Killua. We could help you back home, if you wanted,” Gon offers brightly.
“Oh!” She exclaims, pressing her fingers demurely to her full lips, “That would be so kind of you! I wouldn’t be able to thank you enough!”
“It’s really no trouble! We’d be happy to help, right Killua?” Gon smiles widely at Killua, then. The girl still doesn’t spare him a glance, taking the chance to look Gon up and down when he turns from her. Killua watches as her eyebrows raise appreciatively, and she bites her bottom lip. He feels his eye twitch.
Gon doesn’t wait for her answer before he’s taking the grocery bag out of her arms to give to Killua, and grabbing the handle of the wagon himself. “Just show us the way!”
They start back down the road, and the girl wastes no time in engaging Gon in conversation. She introduces herself as Marlowe, tells him she has a big family she’s shopping for. She’s got a lot of siblings and she cares for them while her parents work. Gon tells her that she’s very kind for looking after her family, and for being the one to shop for everyone because it has to be a lot of work.
Marlowe takes the opening to praise Gon for his strength, drifting closer to him and remarking, “Gosh, you must be so strong to be able to pull this cart with no problem.” Her fingers come up to brush at the curve of Gon’s bicep, and Killua considers how mad Gon would be if he chucked an apple at the back of Marlowe’s head. He thinks it might be worth it to get her to take her hands off him.
Marlowe ‘stumbles’ over some rocks in her path, then, catching Gon’s arm for support. “I’m so sorry,” she squeaks, and Killua wonders if she makes herself blush on command as he watches red spread across her cheeks. She doesn’t seem very sorry, because she doesn’t take her hand away from where it’s wrapped around Gon’s arm. “This path just gets so rough in some spots. I’m so clumsy!”
“Don’t worry about it!” Gon assures her kindly, not commenting on the fingers that are curled into his skin. “We wouldn’t want you to fall and hurt yourself.”
The walk to Marlowe’s home takes years off Killua’s life. At some point she’d shifted so that her arm was looped around Gon’s, walking so close to him that her hip nearly brushed his with every step. Killua trails behind them, seething. It’s unfathomable to him that she’s so comfortable with putting her hands on Gon. Whenever Killua even thinks about touching Gon, his hands shake, and when Gon touches him, it puts goosebumps on his skin. It’s an event for him, touching Gon. It’s something he treasures, something to be cherished. On the occasions that Gon has hugged him, he’s barely been able to comprehend things for several minutes afterward. Yet, this stranger is wrapped around him as though it’s nothing more than a tool to try to get him to notice her.
They make it to Marlowe’s home eventually, and they find the place empty of the large family that she’d spoken of.
“My parents took my siblings to town today,” Marlowe explains while she unlocks the door. “They’ve never stayed in a hotel before and they got this idea in their heads that it would be super fun or something. They wouldn’t stop bugging my parents about it for weeks, so they finally took them. I offered to stay home and tidy up and restock us on groceries while they stayed out for the night.”
“It’s too bad you couldn’t go have fun with them,” Gon says sympathetically, completely missing Marlowe’s insinuation that her home would be empty until at least tomorrow.
“I don’t mind,” Marlowe smiles sweetly, “it’s nice to have some peace and quiet sometimes. There’s a lot I can’t get done with my family around.” There’s a predatory edge to the way her eyes roam over Gon’s arms, then. Killua’s nails dig into his palm with how hard he clenches his fists.
Gon wheels the wagon of groceries into the house, taking care not to spill anything when it crosses the threshold of the door. The house is cozy and feels very lived in. Pictures that show people with Marlowe’s same color of flaming hair dot the walls. Toys are scattered around the living room. The furniture is mismatched, but every piece looks plush and comfortable. Killua sets his bag of groceries down on the round wooden table when they enter the kitchen.
Marlowe makes a show of taking her hat off and shaking out her long hair. She stretches, arms over her head in a way that makes her dress crawl further up her thighs. Gon is too busy gazing around the room to take notice of the spectacle. Marlowe sighs, just loud enough for Killua to hear, and starts to take groceries out of the wagon.
Gon immediately attempts to set about helping Marlowe put things away, but she shoos him off with a hand to his chest. “Oh none of that,” she insists, “You’ve helped me enough.”
“Well then we really should be going-“ Killua tries, but Marlowe cuts him off quickly.
“At least let me make you lunch!” she exclaims. She looks at Killua for the first time, and it’s positively icy. “I’d like to thank you for helping me home.” She turns her gaze back to Gon.
“Ah, we wouldn’t want to trouble you or anything,” Gon waves his hands in front of himself, and Marlowe catches them. Killua feels an intense stress headache coming on.
“No no! It’s no trouble at all! You’re the one who went out of your way to help me home!” She squeezes Gon’s hands and guides him until his knees hit the back of a chair, “Please! Stay for lunch!” She reaches up to press at his shoulders until he’s sitting, and then whirls away to start preparing food.
“Gon,” Killua says sharply. He wants to get out of here and away from Marlowe and her grabby hands as soon as humanly possible. If she keeps touching him, Killua is going to say something they’ll all regret.
“It’s only lunch Killua,” Gon cuts him off, “It’d be rude to leave when she's trying to thank us. Plus, I’m hungry now,” he pouts. “C’mon, just sit down for a few minutes.”
Killua searches Gon’s face, the jut of his lower lip, his drawn together eyebrows. He’d been complaining of being hungry just minutes before they’d made this little detour. He didn’t seem to want to stay for the company, really. Killua sighs heavily, and drops into the chair next to Gon’s. He looks to Marlowe, who is gathering the ingredients for sandwiches. She sets out the bread for one sandwich, seems to consider for a moment, and then glances backward. She catches Killua’s eye, frowns disdainfully, and then takes out two more pieces of bread as though it’s the biggest inconvenience she could possibly imagine. He’s sure it is, him being here at all. He wonders how much more forward she’d be if she and Gon were alone. The thought makes his stomach lurch, and he pushes it away.
This is going to be the lunch from hell, Killua can feel it.
Marlowe sets a sandwich down in front of each of them, not without some contempt in Killua’s case. She takes the seat on the opposite side of Gon, but not before subtly dragging her chair closer to him.
“Woah, this looks so good!” Gon exclaims, eyeing the food in front of him. He claps his hands and bows his head to Marlowe, “Thank you so much!”
Killua doesn’t look down at his own sandwich. He doesn’t intend on touching it. Instead, he keeps his eyes locked on Marlowe as she leans onto the table. She props her cheek on one hand, drawing her other arm up under her chest to accentuate her cleavage. Killua takes in her posture, the tilt of her head, the exact way she smiles and twirls her hair around her finger. It’s practiced, every movement meant to make herself look as appealing as possible. He nearly gags at how obvious she is.
Gon is far too focused on absolutely inhaling his sandwich to notice that Marlowe’s chest is climbing up to sit near her chin. “This is amazing!” He praises through a mouthful of deli meats. Killua almost snorts out a laugh at how completely oblivious Gon is to her advances. Almost.
Marlowe, seemingly unfazed, changes tactics and leans even closer, “You have got to tell me what you use in your hair,” she implores, hand settling on Gon’s arm again.
“Oh,” Gon blinks, surprised, “I don’t actually use anything. It just kinda... does this,” he gestures vaguely about his head.
He’s telling her the truth. Killua has seen Gon with his hair wet and plastered to his head, and watched it stick back up as soon as he rubbed a towel over it. It was perplexing, to say the least.
“Oh my gosh you’re not serious,” Marlowe slaps Gon’s arm playfully.
“I’m totally serious!” Gon insists, “Here, watch!” He runs both hands through his hair, flattening it against his head. It springs back up as soon as his fingers leave it.
“That is sooooo crazy,” Marlowe coos, and reaches up to touch it herself, slowly sinking her fingertips into Gon’s dark hair and scratching along his scalp, “Oh my gosh it’s so soft!”
Killua realizes with a start that his fingernails are embedded deep in the edge of the table. He envisions himself ripping Marlowe’s hands away from Gon’s head and dragging him out of the house by the collar of his shirt. He’s seconds away from doing something rash.
Killua has thought about it so many times, being close enough to Gon to slide his hands into his hair and pull him close. He’s spent whole evenings curled against a pillow imagining what it would feel like, wishing he was brave enough to touch Gon as easily as Gon touched him. Wishing he could tell Gon what it meant to him. That Gon was the first, the only one to touch him with anything but the intent to cause pain. Killua has agonized over his feelings, lost countless hours of sleep, given himself panic attacks at the thought of doing something stupid. And this girl, this absolute stranger, is touching Gon like it’s nothing. Like it’s easy. Like it’s not the best thing that could ever happen to her. Like it’s not a miracle that Gon exists at all.
Killua is speaking before he can stop himself, “We really, really have to go,” he grits out through his teeth.
“I’m sure you can stay a little longer,” Marlowe counters sharply.
“We really can’t. We’re meeting friends,” Killua flashes something that he thinks could look like a smile, if not for the way it strains his whole face.
“If it’s that important, why don’t you go on ahead and meet your friends first?” Marlowe’s answering smile is sickly sweet. Her hands settle over Gon’s arm, as if to yank him away from Killua. “I really don’t think I’ve properly thanked him for his help yet,” she purrs.
A distinct image flashes through Killua’s head, of Marlowe perched on Gon’s lap, hands in his hair, mouth pressed against his. A strangled growl crawls its way up Killua’s throat and the air around him crackles with electricity.
Gon’s hand settles over Killua’s where it’s nearly splitting the wood of the table. Even that, a simple point of contact, settles Killua’s nerves enough to relax his hands. There’s something curious in Gon’s gaze when he meets Killua’s eyes. Something that Killua can’t place and doesn’t have the time to untangle.
“Ah, sorry Killua. I promised you we wouldn’t be late!” He winces, and has the decency to look sheepish about it. He moves to stand from his chair, and Marlowe follows him, not letting go of his arm.
“Are you sure?” She asks quickly, “It’s going to be getting dark soon. You could stay here if you needed to. He could go tell your friends where you are.”
“Sorry!” Gon takes a step back from Marlowe and bows apologetically, “We really do have to go! Thank you for lunch! It was delicious!”
Marlowe looks as though she wants to argue for a moment, and then seems to think better of it when she catches sight of the spark of electricity between Killua’s fingers as he stands.
“Let me walk you to the door,” she sighs.
Gon and Killua follow her to the front door, and when they’re out of the house, Gon turns back around to bow one more time. “Thank you for your hospitality! It was nice meeting you!” He smiles, wide and bright and stupidly charming.
Marlowe just stares at him helplessly for a moment before she answers, “Thank you for your help with my groceries. It was nice meeting you too,” she says forlornly.
Gon’s already turning to walk merrily back toward the road. Killua shares one final, tense glare with Marlowe. She frowns at him as though Gon’s lack of interest is absolutely his fault. Killua has the intense urge to stick his tongue out at her, but he turns to follow Gon instead.
They barely make it a few yards down the road before Gon is throwing his hands up in the air and exclaiming, “Marlowe was so nice Killua!”
Killua can’t hold back his derisive snort, “Yeah, maybe to you.”
Gon tilts his head curiously, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, “What?”
“She was nice to you, Gon,” Killua bites out.
A sly grin creeps across Gon’s face. “What, are you jealous, Killua?”
Killua’s whole body jolts at that. Had he been that obvious? He’d thought Gon had been too engaged in conversation to notice his irritation. He goes cold, head whipping around to look at Gon. “W-what?” He stutters.
Gon laughs, “You are! You’re so totally jealous!”
“Sh-shut up Gon,” Killua stammers, shoving his hands in his pockets. He doesn’t know how to explain it, how to put it into words that her boldness had unsettled him to his core.
“I can’t believe it!” Gon can’t seem to stop giggling, “You’re jealous because a pretty girl gave me attention and not you!”
Killua can only gawk at him. It takes him a second to recover, because that’s the absolute last thing that he expected to come out of Gon’s mouth. Marlowe makes his skin crawl, and he shudders when he thinks about her hands in Gon’s hair. The headache behind his eye throbs. “Seriously Gon, shut up,” he growls, terrified and irritated.
“That’s not even fair Killua,” Gon whines, “Girls we meet are falling all over themselves for you all the time. Boys too! And the first time we meet a girl who doesn’t give you attention you act like this?” He crosses his arms over his chest petulantly.
That observation doesn’t even register with Killua. Gon has no idea how wrong he is. He can’t explain to Gon that he’s not jealous of him, but rather of Marlowe. Killua was nauseated by Marlowe. He didn’t want her attention. He wanted her hands off Gon. But he envied her bravery. Her ability to put herself out there with seemingly no fear of rejection.
Killua’s irritation is building. Gon is good at getting under his skin. He’s afraid that if Gon keeps prodding he’ll admit it and ruin everything. He’ll tell Gon how he feels and Gon will laugh at him or be disgusted and that’ll be the end of their friendship. Gon will leave him on this road and go to meet Leorio and Kurapika. He’ll tell them about Killua’s stupid feelings and they’ll laugh about it together and Killua will have nothing. He needs Gon to stop.
“Gon,” Killua growls, low and pleading, “Shut the fuck up. I mean it.” He feels his hair on his arms stand on end in anxiety. Normally he’d take a stupid jab at Gon and they’d laugh and shove each other and that’d be the end of it. But today Killua has been on edge for too long. He’s been forced to stew in his own fear and jealousy and inadequacy. It’s eating at him and he’s too far into his own unease to brush this off lightly.
And Gon has never been good at stopping before he crosses the line. “How selfish can you be, Killua?” He sounds betrayed.
Killua nearly trips over his own feet, and he chokes on his next breath. He is selfish. His feelings are selfish, but not for the reason that Gon’s insisting. He almost can’t stand it, Gon thinking that he’s that jealous enough of some inconsequential girl to put a rift between them.
He turns to face Gon fully, “That’s not it, Gon!” He shouts, “Just drop it!” His eyes burn, tears threatening to well up.
“What is it, Killua?” Gon throws his hands out to the side, and it’s a tense, tight movement. His eyes are wide in disbelief, “What else could it possibly be?”
“You!” Killua blurts out, “It’s you, Gon!” He watches Gon’s mouth go slack with surprise, eyebrows furrowing. Gon’s hands drop to his sides. The tears do come, then, burning hot at the backs of his eyes and rolling down his cheeks. He whirls away quickly, rubbing his sleeve roughly over his face. He moves to start walking again, but Gon catches him by the elbow.
“What do you mean it’s me, Killua?” Gon asks, and it’s small and confused, “What did I do?”
Killua’s legs shake. He rips his arm out of Gon’s grasp, petrified and seconds away from admitting every single feeling he’s ever had about his best friend. His chest aches, and he wants to say it, wants to clutch at Gon’s shirt and let it spill out and beg for Gon to feel the same way.
Killua needs to run. He needs to bolt before he ruins everything. Before he can move, Gon takes hold of his arm again.
“I don’t understand why we’re fighting,” Gon admits, even quieter.
“Then why did you start it?” Killua snarls back. He winces at the way Gon recoils. He knows he’s being mean, too harsh and too petty. It’s not Gon’s fault he feels this way, not Gon’s fault he’s panicking. But he’s scared, and hurt, and angry, and he doesn’t know what to do with that besides lash out to try to defend himself. He expects Gon to let him go, to leave him there to stew in his own misery and hatred and self-pity. He deserves it.
But Gon doesn’t let go, doesn’t leave. Instead, he squeezes Killua’s arm gently. “Please, Killua, look at me,” he asks softly, “I wanna understand. Just talk to me.”
He sounds so sincere, so much like he really cares, and Killua craves that, wants to believe it so badly. So he looks up at Gon, then. His face bleeds hurt, and guilt, and that looks so intensely wrong on Gon’s face. His eyebrows are drawn together, lips turned down and trembling. It makes regret bloom in Killua’s stomach, hot and sickening. Gon shouldn’t look like that, shouldn’t have to feel anything other than happy and content. And Killua barely deserves to be near him in the first place, he deserves it even less if he makes Gon look like that.
“I don’t care about Marlowe,” Killua admits without really giving himself permission to. He’s overcome with guilt, and the need to explain, if only to stop Gon from looking like this is his fault. It’s Killua’s fault. It’s all Killua’s fault, it always is. His fear doesn’t matter, he doesn’t matter, not nearly as much as making sure Gon is happy.
“I don’t care about any of those other girls. Or guys. Or anyone.” He looks down, because he can’t stand to look Gon in the eye when he says the next part, can’t stand to watch the revulsion that he’s sure he’ll see, “I care about you. I have feelings for you.”
Gon lets go of Killua’s arm abruptly, and goes dead silent. Killua thinks that he might understand now, what it feels like to have your heart ripped in two. Gon let go of him. He’s disgusted. He doesn’t feel the same way. Killua has ruined the only good thing in his lonely, miserable life. He’s been through countless kinds of pain. It’s what he’s meant for. He’s been cut open and beaten and starved. He’s been denied everything he’s ever wanted. Why should Gon be any different? Why should Killua be allowed to have Gon?
Killua is actually going to run now. He can’t breathe. His hands are shaking and numb. The ground is blurred. He’s about to take the first step when Gon’s hand closes over his arm again, and he’s paralyzed.
“I didn’t think you wanted anybody,” Gon croaks, “Especially not me.”
Killua blinks in confusion, looking up to find Gon’s face flushed, and his eyes wide. “What do you mean ‘especially not you?’” He asks, ashamed at how unsteady his voice sounds. Because that doesn’t make sense. Gon is everything, has always been everything to Killua.
“Well,” Gon casts his gaze to the ground, looking horribly embarrassed, “We’ve met so many amazing people and they all look at you. They always look at you and I’ve always been scared that you’d pick one of them.” He stops for a second, takes a breath and seems to steel himself for what he says next, “I’ve had a crush on you for years. But I thought that if you didn’t look at any of them, you’d never even consider me. I mean, no one else ever has.”
Killua actually feels the exact second that his brain short circuits, sparks zipping up his spine and centering in on the feeling of Gon’s hand resting on his arm. The world tilts, spins and makes him dizzy. He has to be dreaming. He can’t have heard that right. Gon has feelings for him? Gon’s had feelings for him for years?
“Gon,” Killua breathes, “It’s always been you. It’s only ever been you.”
Gon’s eyes light up, and he looks like he’s just seen the sun for the first time. Like Killua has given him some great gift. It makes Killua’s stomach flutter wildly. Gon looks like that because of something he said. Because he told Gon that he cared for him. It’s almost too much to believe. He digs his nails into his palms, and it hurts, and that means he’s not dreaming. Gon brushes his knuckles over the curve of Killua’s cheek, catching a stray tear. Killua can’t help but lean into it, the warmth and intimacy of it.
“I’ve been telling myself that I should just give up already, because you didn’t want me,” Gon smiles, and it’s soft, something bright and tremulous and just for Killua. “I’m glad I didn’t.”
Killua’s heart is pounding now, and he’s terrified and exhilarated and he has no idea what to expect next.
But Gon has always been the forward one out of the two of them. So he presses closer and slides his hand from Killua’s arm to settle on his waist, and Killua wonders if it’s possible to actually spontaneously combust. He brushes his fingertips over Killua’s cheek, and murmurs, “I’ve wanted to kiss you for years, you know.”
Gon waits for Killua to look him in the eye again, so much more patient than Killua will ever deserve, and he’s so close that Killua can feel the warmth that radiates off him. “Can I?” He asks, quiet and hopeful and so sweet that Killua feels like he could drown in it.
Killua doesn’t trust himself to be able to speak, can’t catch his breath, so he just swallows and nods. Then Gon is pulling him closer still and finally, finally pressing in to kiss him, and it’s everything and nothing like Killua could have ever imagined. He’s not a person anymore, can’t feel his legs or the breeze or the way the sun beats down on him, only the gentleness in Gon’s touches. Gon’s hand settles on Killua’s cheek, fingertips curling into the hair behind his ear, and it makes him dizzy. Killua can’t help but press a hand to Gon’s spine to hold him because he never thought he’d be here like this, not in a million years. He gets to finally curl his fingers into Gon’s hair just like he’s wanted, and Gon is so stupidly warm against him when he smiles at the feeling. He can feel Gon’s heart pounding against his chest, the soft slide of his lips against Killua’s own.
Killua had never thought he’d be allowed to have this. He never imagined that someone would want this with him, to hold him like he’s something to be cherished, like he’s meant to be treated gently. He’s lost in it, intoxicated, and he knows that he’ll never be able to go back, not after he’s had a taste.
Killua has no idea how long they spend there, wrapped up in each other, making up for lost time. They only manage to tear themselves apart when a horse-drawn cart comes rumbling by. The driver shouts at them over the sound of the squeaking wheels, “Can y’all do this literally anywhere that’s not the middle of the road?”
Gon just laughs against Killua’s mouth, loud and overjoyed, and now that’s the best thing Killua has ever felt. He pulls away, framed by the sun behind him, and his cheeks are flushed a bright pink, and he looks like every single one of Killua’s dreams combined. Gon grabs Killua’s hand and breaks into a run, pulling him down the road.
They are so going to be late.