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York New was just as bustling as Killua remembered. He ducked and dodged through the crowd, slipping past cyclists and pedestrians as he made his way toward Hotel Bayloke. The summer sun had just dipped below the horizon, and the city’s neon lights were beginning to flicker to life. A Hunter party was being held at the hotel’s rooftop bar that night, and Killua was supposed to meet Alluka there once she finished her classes.
She was the only reason he had agreed to go in the first place. Alluka had been on his case about socializing with other Hunters, picking up “real” Hunter jobs, and finally choosing a specialty. Ever since the day he’d received that little ID card, though, the excitement had faded. He hadn’t gone out of his way to do anything with it.
That had been eight years ago. Now, freshly twenty-one, Killua couldn’t care less. They never stayed in one place long enough for him to land a steady job outside of Hunter work,not that he wanted one in the first place, and the constant moving had worn him down. Alluka had dragged him across the world, staying a week here, a month there, never longer. After years of persuading her, they’d finally settled in the suburbs of York New, and for the first time in a long while, Killua could breathe.
But even that peace was temporary. Alluka carried a never-ending list of things she wanted to try, hobbies, books, classes, and dreams she was determined to chase. Killua never got the chance to rest, let alone think about what he wanted. Somewhere along the way, in the shadow of her endless plans, he had lost himself. She had promised him years ago at the World Tree that it was only temporary, but the vice grip she held on him never seemed to ease.
His phone buzzed in his jeans pocket, the tone one Alluka had set for herself. With a groan, he answered.
“Alluka, please don’t tell me what I think you’re about to say,” he warned before she could speak. This was another routine he had grown to hate. Whenever they were on their way to an event, she’d suddenly change her mind, or something would come up, and the plans would fall through. He could almost feel the eye roll through the line as he came to a stop across the street from the hotel.
“Oh, big brother, don’t be like that!” Her shrill voice rang through the speaker, forcing him to hold the phone away from his ear. He watched the timer tick down on the crosswalk light while her excuses spilled out in waves. “I’ll be there, just later than I thought. Class is running over, and I really don’t think I can skip just to go to a party!”
It was Killua’s turn to roll his eyes.
“A party you wanted to go to, Alluka,” he reminded her bitterly, carefully stepping across the street on the white lines as the hotel’s music thumped louder with each step.
Alluka sighed. “Big brother… just do this for me. I promise you’ll have fun.”
There it was again, for me. Those were always the words she used, the hook she knew he could never resist. And once more, Killua felt that familiar trap closing in. His obligation to her should have ended years ago, but she never gave him the chance to break free. Alluka had learned long ago just how easily she could guilt-trip and manipulate him, and she wielded that knowledge without hesitation.
“Whatever. Do what you want.” He snapped the words out, ending the call before she could reply and shoving the phone deep into his pocket. There was no point in arguing with her, it would only spiral into a fight later, either back at their apartment or, worse, in front of the Hunters at this party. The last thing he needed was another reason for people to talk.
Pulling a hood over his silver hair, he ducked past the doorman and flashed his Hunter ID without a word. Hotel Bayloke’s lobby buzzed with polished chatter and the faint clink of glassware, but Killua barely heard it. His agitation still clung to him, coiling tight in his chest.
The elevator ride to the rooftop bar crawled by, each second stretching longer than the last. He leaned against the mirrored wall, watching his own reflection glare back at him, jaw tight. By the time the soft chime signaled his floor, he had decided he wasn’t here for Alluka anymore. Tonight, he’d drink until the edges dulled and let the music drown out the rest.
The elevator doors slid open to an open-air club crammed with Hunters of every kind. Music thudded through the floor, glasses clinked, and laughter rose in waves. Killua slipped into the chaos, hood low, cutting through the crowd with practiced ease. He kept his head down, praying no one stopped him before he reached the bar.
No one did. He dropped into a vacant stool, shoulders easing slightly.
The party itself was nothing special, no theme, no ceremony, just a mass of Hunters wasting money on drinks and fleeting thrills. Killua’s eyes drifted over the room: clusters puffing on hookahs, groups bent over board games, pairs tucked close together, shadows whispering. He didn’t know what he was looking for, only that something in him wanted to find it.
“Can I get you something?”
The bartender’s voice was flat, her gaze glazed with boredom as she polished a glass.
Killua scowled at the menu, everything was sticky-sweet, fruity, the opposite of what he wanted. He settled on a hoppy beer, then turned back to the crowd.
By the time his glass was nearly empty, Alluka still hadn’t appeared. Frustration bubbled hot in his chest. He tossed back the last bitter swallow, the taste burning his throat, and yanked out his phone. Call. Voicemail. Again. Voicemail. A third time. Voicemail.
His patience cracked. Pushing up from the bar, he stalked toward the railing, thumb hovering over the screen as he prepared to unload every ounce of irritation into a voicemail she wouldn’t dare ignore.
Then it happened.
“Killua?”
The single word pierced through the noise, cutting sharper than the music, sharper than the city itself. His stomach dropped, his grip on the phone going slack. That voice, one he had buried, shoved deep into the dark corners of memory, rose like a ghost.
Gon.
Killua turned, the world slowing to a crawl as the boy, no, man, stood before him. His throat tightened, words dissolving into nothing as he stared. Gon had grown, of course he had; he was twenty-one now, and twenty-one had treated him well. He was taller than Killua, lean but solid, hair longer, no longer defying gravity but tied into a low ponytail at the base of his neck. Seeing him was like touching a live wire; sudden, electric, and impossible to ignore. Killua felt every sound, every movement, every heartbeat around him.
“Gon…? What…” His voice caught as he hung up his phone, forcing himself to turn fully to face him. Gon scratched the back of his neck, a flush creeping across his tanned features, and glanced away.
“It’s… been awhile, huh?” Gon said, a shy laugh slipping past his lips. Killua felt a prickle along his spine, fingers tightening around the phone.
Eight years. Almost exactly. Neither of them needed to say it aloud, they both knew. Neither had reached out, not that Killua ever had the chance, and not that he hadn’t wanted to. And boy did he want to.
“Yeah…” Killua choked on the word, sinking into the chair nearest the railing, dizziness creeping in as the past collided with the present. The more years he spent with Alluka, the more he had convinced himself he’d never see or speak to Gon again, and eventually, he had stopped hoping. Before tonight, he had shoved every thought of Gon aside, trying to move on, trying to forget those lingering feelings.
And yet here he was. Tall, radiant, bright as the sun, looking at him like he was a ghost. Killua’s stomach tightened. Did he look like he had grown too? What did Gon think of him now? Heat rose to his cheeks, and he forced himself to look away, embarrassed by the flutter in his chest.
“What are you doing here anyway, Killua?” Gon’s voice pulled him back into reality, sharp yet gentle, and Killua almost laughed in relief. His eyes widened as Gon slid into the seat across from him, and he drew in a slow, shaky breath.
“It’s a Hunter party…” he scoffed, a small smile tugging at his lips despite himself. Blush crept across Gon’s face, soft and endearing, and Killua’s chest ached with longing. He missed Gon, terribly.
The memory of Alluka’s promise flickered in his mind: “It’s a promise! After I’ve had you to myself a little, I’ll give you back.”
Eight years. Alluka had had him to herself for eight years, and that promise had never come to fruition. Killua’s eyes drifted to the glitter-speckled table, his chest tightening with frustration. He hated feeling powerless in his own life again. He didn’t want to be angry at Alluka; she had sacrificed so much of her own life to survive their family’s torment, but the resentment lingered all the same.
“I’m sorry I'm here for someone else…” The words slipped out before he could stop them, and Killua felt his chest clench at the way color drained from Gon’s face. A deep sadness flickered across his eyes.
“Oh…” Gon’s voice was a whisper, soft and faltering, and a gentle flush warmed his cheeks. “I… see… well…”
“It was really good to see you though…” Killua pressed his lips together, heart hammering in his chest. It wasn’t a lie, he was waiting for Alluka, who “should” be arriving any moment, but the way Gon’s expression shifted gnawed at him.
“I wish… we could sit at the bar and talk… y’know?” Gon said, a shaky laugh escaping as he stood. Killua’s frown deepened. His hands clenched into fists, nails digging crescent moons into his palms.
Dammit, Alluka.
He wanted to stay, to talk to Gon, to hear about his life and all the adventures he’d had with Ging. He wanted to tell him about all the places he’d seen since they parted at the World Tree, all the things he’d done with Alluka.
He wanted to tell him everything he had ever kept secret, the feelings he had never let escape, the longing he had buried.
But the thought of Alluka showing up and shattering it all kept his lips sealed. His eyes stayed fixed on the glitter-speckled table, heart hammering, chest tight.
Why open a wound only to have it left exposed?
“Sorry, she should be here any minute.” Killua sighed, forcing himself not to look at Gon again, careful to avoid the hurt he could already see etched into his face. He bit his lip, a tight, bitter edge to the gesture.
He knew, without a doubt, that he still loved Gon. Seeing him again only sharpened the ache, reopening old wounds he had tried so hard to bury. But he had made a promise to Alluka, and she to him, and he refused to trap Gon in the mess of it, or make himself look a fool if it didn’t work out in the end.
“Oh… I guess… I’ll see you around?” Gon's voice wavered, thick with unspoken disappointment. Killua felt the sting of tears threatening behind his eyes but managed a tight, almost hollow nod.
Damn it, Alluka!
He cursed her name again under his breath as Gon turned, casting a wistful look over his shoulder before slipping into the throng of drunken Hunters. Killua watched him go, a hollow ache settling deep in his chest. Pulling out his phone, he saw no reply from Alluka and dialed her number with a numb, burning frustration.
He let it ring, each tone stretching his patience thinner, ordering another drink at the bar, a stronger one this time. The liquor burned as he downed it in one gulp, signaling the bartender for another. Still, Alluka did not answer.
If this wasn’t the norm, he might have worried. Alluka was infamous for ignoring her phone and showing up only when she felt like it. But now, with Gon still fresh in his mind, Killua’s irritation twisted sharp. He downed yet another drink, the burn dulling his fingers, his cheeks, and yet doing nothing to quell the ache in his chest. Across the crowd, he caught glimpses of Gon mingling, heart hammering an obnoxious, uncontainable rhythm.
“Let’s travel around and see the whole world together, just you and me.”
Gon’s voice from their childhood echoed in his mind, a promise whispered beneath quiet stars. How he longed to do that with Gon now, after all these years, now that he had spent time doing the same with Alluka. To show him every place, to hold his hand, to lean on him as they walked side by side, the yearning threatened to shatter the stone-cold resolve he had fought to maintain.
“There you are, big brother!” Alluka’s voice cut through the haze of his thoughts, and Killua spun around, slightly unsteady, to see her bright smile. She was still in her school clothes, her long hair braided neatly over one shoulder. She grinned as if being an hour late meant nothing.
Killua’s frown deepened. He slammed his glass onto the bar with a sharp crack.
“Took you fucking long enough, Alluka,” he snarled. His gaze slid past her scowl, scanning the crowd until it caught on Gon, lounging on a couch with someone else. His stomach twisted, bitter and hot.
Alluka’s voice buzzed at his side, words spilling out but never reaching him. Every part of him screamed to go, to be with Gon, to ignore her.
She’s had control of you long enough.
“Are you even listening to me, big brother?” Alluka snapped, her voice rising as she pinched his arm to drag him back.
Killua blinked at her, stunned, then shook his head. A smile tugged at his lips, reckless and sharp. Whether it was the alcohol loosening his restraint or simply the gravity of Gon’s presence, confidence surged through him.
“God… No, Alluka, I wasn’t listening.” He sighed, heavy and sharp. “And honestly, I don’t care. You wanted me here. You said you’d come if I went. You’re an hour late.”
He shot her a glare, though his attention flickered past her again, drawn to the sight of Gon disappearing into the crowd. Alluka scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. A whine was about to escape her when he held his hand up to stop her. Her eyebrows rose in response, not used to not having her way.
“I’m done, Alluka. This has gone on long enough.” Killua’s voice was firm, confident, steady in a way it hadn’t been in years. He locked eyes with her, taking a deep breath that felt like the first real one in forever. “I need to go. I’m actually here… for someone else.”
Alluka spluttered, laughter breaking from her in disbelief.
“Someone else? Big brother, are you out of your mind?” Her cheeks flamed red with embarrassment, her arms flailing wildly as she stammered. “You—you don’t even know anyone here!” Her voice rose, frantic, but Killua only stood calm, unshaken.
Her protests faltered when she saw the look in his eyes, the way his gaze was no longer fixed on her. She was losing. Killua’s heart hammered in his chest as his attention followed the one figure that mattered, Gon, stepping into the elevator.
“Sorry…” The word scraped from his throat, raw, before he pushed past her.
He dove into the crowd, weaving through bodies, dodging hands, shoving through clusters of drunken Hunters. Behind him, Alluka’s voice rang out, shrill and desperate, her calls chasing him like chains.
“I’m not done yet, big brother!” she wailed, stomping her foot like a child. “I haven’t had enough time!”
But Killua didn’t look back.
Eight years of regret. Eight years of longing and pining for his best friend, his first love. Eight years without a chance. He was not about to lose him again.
Just as the elevator doors began to close, Killua lunged, nearly losing him all over again. He tumbled into the space with a graceless thud, landing hard on the cold floor.
“Killua? What the hell?” Gon’s voice was sharp with concern. Killua blinked, the dizziness from the chase blurring the edges of the world. But when his eyes settled on Gon’s bewildered, beautiful face, a slow, reckless smile crept across his lips.
“Gon,” he breathed, reaching up to clutch the lapel of Gon’s blazer, pulling him down to his level. Gon didn’t resist. Killua’s arms wound tight around his torso, clinging like he’d been drowning all these years. He pressed his face into Gon’s shoulder, the scent of him, warm and familiar, undoing him completely. “I’m sorry.”
Gon let out a shaky, breathless laugh, and Killua could feel the quickening beat of his heart against his skin.
“Killua…” Gon whispered, his voice trembling between concern and something softer. “Are you drunk?” His hand reached past Killua, pressing the red stop button on the elevator panel. With a heavy jolt, the elevator stilled.
And then Gon slid down beside him on the floor, close enough that Killua could fully fold himself into him, as if no time had ever passed at all. A small laugh escaped Killua, and he looked up into those familiar honey eyes. They were brimming with concern, but Killua thought maybe there was something else there too.
“I missed you…” Killua whispered, his voice so raw it startled even him. His hand rose, trembling slightly, to brush against Gon’s cheek.
Gon froze at the touch, but then leaned into it fully, as if he’d been waiting years for it. His lips curved into that same warm, unshakable smile Killua had carried like a ghost all this time.
“I missed you too,” Gon murmured, covering Killua’s hand with his own. His palm was warm, grounding, a tether in the storm. “More than you might think, honestly.”
Killua’s throat tightened. He traced a faint line of freckles on Gon’s cheek with his thumb, memorizing every inch of him like he’d disappear again if he looked away.
“I’m sorry I didn’t reach out,” Killua said, the words tumbling out in a rush. He swallowed hard, eyes never leaving Gon’s. He needed to see, to know, to catch even the smallest flicker of judgment or forgiveness. “Being with Alluka… it was difficult. I wanted to. I hope you don’t think I didn’t.” His voice cracked, low and pleading.
Gon’s expression stayed soft, unreadable but open. He was listening. Really listening.
Killua’s chest ached with everything unsaid. He had wanted to reach out, so many times. He had even tried. But every time, Alluka needed something. Another plan. Another detour. Another reason not to. Somewhere along the way he had misplaced his Beetle07, cutting off the only direct line he had.
And yet the wanting never stopped. In every city, in every shop, he’d picked up things Gon would like: postcards, trinkets, souvenirs tucked away in the bottom of his pack. He had written letters too, dozens of them, words scrawled in the dead of night, letters that never left his hands.
Alluka always told him to wait. To hold on. “We’ll go to Whale Island,” she had said once, “you can give them to him then.”
But they never went.
“I’m sorry I didn’t reach out either,” Gon admitted, voice low and careful. “It’s not entirely your fault we didn’t keep in touch.”
His hand lifted, hesitating for only a moment before settling gently on Killua’s head. Fingers slipped into the silver mess of his hair, combing through in slow, soothing strokes.
Killua melted. His stomach twisted into restless butterflies, heat crawling up his neck. Every sharp edge inside him; the guilt, the longing, the years of silence, dulled beneath Gon’s touch. His thoughts scattered like loose pages in the wind, every carefully rehearsed word fleeing before he could speak them.
With a shuddering sigh, he leaned into Gon, letting the weight of his body say what his mouth couldn’t.
“Hey, Killua… can I admit something? And you won’t think I’m weird?” Gon’s voice was small, hesitant in a way Killua hadn’t heard since they were kids.
Killua nodded without hesitation. After everything, what could Gon possibly say that would scare him away now?
Gon inhaled sharply, nerves flickering across his face. He shifted beneath Killua’s weight, adjusting so their eyes could meet fully. Killua froze under that gaze, warm and unflinching, but trembling at the edges.
“I think…” Gon’s throat bobbed as he stopped, cleared it, and tried again. A flush of deep crimson bloomed across his cheeks. His fingers tightened just slightly in Killua’s hair, as if anchoring himself.
“I love you.”
The words dropped between them like a bolt of lightning. Killua sat up sharply, lifting himself off Gon, staring at him as something wild bubbled up in his chest. A laugh, sharp, ridiculous, and unstoppable, burst from his throat.
Gon flushed crimson, eyes darting away as he lifted his hands to his face. “I… why are you laughing?” he mumbled, his voice small with embarrassment.
Killua only laughed harder. A childish giggle shook his shoulders, breaking into full, breathless laughter until he was doubled over. For eight years he had dreamed of saying those three stupid words. Never had he imagined hearing them from Gon first. The sheer absurdity of it was too much.
Gon let out a wounded sound that only made Killua laugh harder, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “Okay, Killua. Please,” Gon begged, turning back toward him with a near pout, cheeks still burning.
Killua finally leaned forward, pressing himself against Gon’s chest, gasping for breath. He wiped at the tears streaming down his face, laughter dissolving into something softer.
“I don’t think you understand, Gon,” he whispered, a shaky smile trembling on his lips. “For eight years—no, even before that—I wanted to say that to you. I wanted to tell you I love you. That you’re my light, my everything. That I regret not going with you. That when you died… a part of me died too.”
Real tears broke loose then, spilling hot down his cheeks as the dam of silence shattered. Remembering Gon’s lifeless body, pale and still beneath the tangle of machines, still clawed at Killua’s chest. Even now, years later, the memory haunted his nights; his own desperate cries, the moment he begged Alluka to save him. Just speaking of it sent a shiver down his spine.
“What… What about Alluka?” Gon’s voice was hushed, careful. “Surely you don’t regret going with her…”
Killua’s eyes squeezed shut, the tears refusing to dry. Gon was right. He didn’t really regret it, he couldn’t.
“It wasn’t meant to be forever…” Killua whispered, a hiccup breaking his words.
“But it wasn’t.” Gon’s chuckle was soft, a balm against the ache. Killua opened his eyes to see that smile, the same smile that had carried him through so much darkness, and it blinded him.
“We’re here now,” Gon whispered, leaning forward until their foreheads touched, their ragged breaths mingling in the thin space between them. “And we both said it. It wasn’t forever.”
Another wave of tears welled up in Killua’s eyes, his lips trembling as he breathed, “It’s not too late?” His words brushed against Gon’s mouth, fragile and pleading.
Gon only smiled, closing the gap with the softest kiss, pouring every unsaid word, every year of silence, into the press of his lips. Killua melted into him, arms winding tight around Gon’s neck. His own kiss answered in kind, tender, aching, desperate to show what words could never hold.
For a heartbeat, the world stilled. Nothing existed but the two of them, locked in the moment they had both been denied for so long.
Then the shrill beep of the elevator alarm cut through the silence, warning them it had been stopped too long.
Killua startled, breathless, pulling back just enough to meet Gon’s eyes, only to see him grinning.
This time, it was Gon’s turn to laugh. With a grin, he reached over Killua and pressed the button, and the elevator lurched forward. The doors slid open, and there stood Alluka, crimson from head to toe, fists clenched, hair slightly disheveled, and steam practically rising off her.
“BIG BROTHER!” she shrieked, her voice a perfect storm of anger, frustration, and pure exasperation.
Killua and Gon froze, exchanging a glance that cracked them both up. Killua leaned against Gon, snickering through tears still clinging to his cheeks. Gon’s laugh shook the small space, his hand squeezing Killua’s.
Alluka stomped toward them, and for a brief moment, they watched her fury unfold like a spectacular, unavoidable storm. But somehow, even in the chaos, Killua felt lighter than he had in years. He had Gon. He was here. And no amount of red-faced shouting could change that.