[damn it. it's moments like these—actual clarity from actual adults who actually know them—that it's hard to argue with Kite. he hates how smart he is, and how even though he's like a bug-eyed sentient stick who looks like he doesn't have any room in the band of his hat to have anything but a fucking brain stem, he's... so emotionally eloquent, sometimes.

when Kite asserts Killua's meaning, he remembers Palm. how he broke down, screaming for her to help bring him the sort of peace that only Killua can really bring Gon. he just couldn't reach him, then. no one could. but he wouldn't have been like that, if Kite hadn't been killed.]

...There's nothing to talk about, Kite.

I know I mean a lot to Gon. It's not like his position as my best friend isn't reciprocated.

I'm healing, too. You didn't see what I saw. Gon changed. I still see it in his eyes, sometimes—I still see a man who looks like him, standing over someone's long dead corpse, telling me it's okay when he's dismembered in front of me.

[Killua's eyes narrow, his breath shuddering as it starts to tighten, coming short.]

...It's already so delicate. I just want things to be easy for him.

[Killua's getting away from his own points; his emotions are clouding his thinking. the air around him is cold.]