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trypanophobic) wrote2019-09-22 02:05 am
trypanophobic) wrote2019-09-22 02:05 am
toplevel for rem!
[it's been an interesting year for Killua.
he's finally found something he wants to do—a vague life path, so much clearer a year ago. take care of Alluka, something he was prepared to commit himself to for the rest of his life. to protect her, and, regrettably, to some larger extent, to busy himself.
it's a symptom of his upbringing as a tool conjunct with his depthless well of love that he can't really seem to figure a way out of—a purpose lackluster without an utter devotion to some person as his cause. and after NGL, after he'd seen what had become of Gon under such impossibly unfavorable circumstances... it had shocked him out of a spell he didn't realize he was under. the whole walk from the site of Neferpitou's defeat, Gon's hair too long, sticky and coarse with blood, warming and wetting the side of Killua as he numbly trudged forward, determined, tiredly, to right Gon's wrong—yet again—he'd thought about this. he'd thought about Greed Island, how he'd destroyed his hands purely for Gon's simple, earnest affirmations... the nature of those feelings became more and more clear the further Killua felt that Gon was slipping away from him.
and now, sitting on the balcony of his hotel room, Alluka peacefully asleep in the next room, Killua is pensive. unable to sleep, though that isn't unusual, it's one night of many where he's ruminating on these things. the gravity of Gon's emotional depths, and the dark places it could go, as well as his own, and how those two things tangled and bred such a horrific, twisted beast... it wasn't what Killua wanted, from their friendship. and there was some association to his feelings with that beast—realizing an aspect of their codependency, at least from Killua's perspective, was something less than platonic. a lot less, even. for years. and distantly, how Killua had felt it, and subconsciously, how he'd known it, and how actively, he'd stifled it.
and neatly, he'd tidied it away, coldly and casually dismissing Gon as his number two from then on. shutting it down, putting up a wall... but that wasn't right either, was it?
it always feels like Killua's forced to make decisions, and that there are no true right answers.
he'd hoped, taking Alluka into his care, that maybe without that obsessive devotion, without the light of that right under his nose, he might be able to stray his thoughts from it. and for most days, it feels like it works. it's not to say that Killua doesn't correspond with Gon; they mail a few times a week, occasionally doing a video call if something interesting is going on, like the great migration of the volcanic cranes. and even to Alluka, Killua's ritualistically downplayed his feelings for Gon, even as he lays empty headed and empty hearted in the night, uncharacteristically still as Alluka dozes close to him, or against him, staring at the ceiling, somehow, despite all of this, selfishly—so selfishly—still having the audacity to feel lonely.
that, above everything else, highlights Killua's feelings. the distance is easy until some nights where it unbearably isn't, and he keeps it to himself—growing increasingly withdrawn, inward, and serious. not to say he doesn't joke easily with Alluka, or through his correspondences with Gon, but... there's something he's holding back. just like before he snapped before Palm, beseeching her as someone more worthy of Gon's emotional depths than him, he's just letting something he's too scared to name build.
but the distance helps, too, to bring clarity to it. maybe. he's not sure if he should really address it—but it's like a sickness. it hasn't cleared up on his own... so what can he do, right? it's not like he really has anyone to talk to about it. and he and Alluka visited Whale Island, recently—but just once, which felt so criminal and bittersweet. without Alluka, Killua's not so sure he could convince himself to leave in a timely manner—which might be why he visited Gon at all, having Alluka in tow.
but it's been a couple months, since then—and being physically apart from Gon for so long...
he thought it was bad before, how sometimes a catching of their eyes would give his heart an urgent little hiccup, increasing the rate of its pulse... how even though they could bathe together, Killua couldn't stand it if Gon accidentally touched his hand, and how at the same time, he coveted their nearness like any casual vice. but after visiting... it was hard not to seek that out, almost hoping and praying for points of contact from Gon, feeling gross for it—like a bad friend&madsh;who feels like that, who wants that, from their best friend?—and in leaving...
that yawning yearning deep within Killua is more apparent than ever, and it's more and more clear... maybe this just isn't something he can run from.
Killua scrubs his palm down his face, taking his phone out of his pocket again with a weary, dry sigh. he's waffled on this idea for a couple of weeks, but he's decided if he can't stop thinking about it, he just has to. so he does.
he's thought about what to say, over and over again—addendums, additions, thinking about what is and isn't productive to say... and most mystifying of all, what he's trying to convey, or what he hopes to get out of anything. it's purely selfish, isn't it? solely to unburden himself from his own feelings, to his helpless friend, hundreds of miles away...
it wasn't like they'd be apart forever, so Killua's told himself this whole time to keep his shit together, and to ween himself off his feelings. but then, those feelings didn't ebb. he doesn't know what to do.
so he sends a huge, risky text. the night breeze calmly shuffles the snowy strings of his bangs, gaze downcast, worn eyes lit from the blue glow of his screen. and he types away. it's only 1, but he knows Gon is surely asleep by then. Gon can read it whenever, respond whenever—and if he doesn't respond at all, Killua can just pretend, like the feelings that brought this on in the first place, like nothing ever happened.]
he's finally found something he wants to do—a vague life path, so much clearer a year ago. take care of Alluka, something he was prepared to commit himself to for the rest of his life. to protect her, and, regrettably, to some larger extent, to busy himself.
it's a symptom of his upbringing as a tool conjunct with his depthless well of love that he can't really seem to figure a way out of—a purpose lackluster without an utter devotion to some person as his cause. and after NGL, after he'd seen what had become of Gon under such impossibly unfavorable circumstances... it had shocked him out of a spell he didn't realize he was under. the whole walk from the site of Neferpitou's defeat, Gon's hair too long, sticky and coarse with blood, warming and wetting the side of Killua as he numbly trudged forward, determined, tiredly, to right Gon's wrong—yet again—he'd thought about this. he'd thought about Greed Island, how he'd destroyed his hands purely for Gon's simple, earnest affirmations... the nature of those feelings became more and more clear the further Killua felt that Gon was slipping away from him.
and now, sitting on the balcony of his hotel room, Alluka peacefully asleep in the next room, Killua is pensive. unable to sleep, though that isn't unusual, it's one night of many where he's ruminating on these things. the gravity of Gon's emotional depths, and the dark places it could go, as well as his own, and how those two things tangled and bred such a horrific, twisted beast... it wasn't what Killua wanted, from their friendship. and there was some association to his feelings with that beast—realizing an aspect of their codependency, at least from Killua's perspective, was something less than platonic. a lot less, even. for years. and distantly, how Killua had felt it, and subconsciously, how he'd known it, and how actively, he'd stifled it.
and neatly, he'd tidied it away, coldly and casually dismissing Gon as his number two from then on. shutting it down, putting up a wall... but that wasn't right either, was it?
it always feels like Killua's forced to make decisions, and that there are no true right answers.
he'd hoped, taking Alluka into his care, that maybe without that obsessive devotion, without the light of that right under his nose, he might be able to stray his thoughts from it. and for most days, it feels like it works. it's not to say that Killua doesn't correspond with Gon; they mail a few times a week, occasionally doing a video call if something interesting is going on, like the great migration of the volcanic cranes. and even to Alluka, Killua's ritualistically downplayed his feelings for Gon, even as he lays empty headed and empty hearted in the night, uncharacteristically still as Alluka dozes close to him, or against him, staring at the ceiling, somehow, despite all of this, selfishly—so selfishly—still having the audacity to feel lonely.
that, above everything else, highlights Killua's feelings. the distance is easy until some nights where it unbearably isn't, and he keeps it to himself—growing increasingly withdrawn, inward, and serious. not to say he doesn't joke easily with Alluka, or through his correspondences with Gon, but... there's something he's holding back. just like before he snapped before Palm, beseeching her as someone more worthy of Gon's emotional depths than him, he's just letting something he's too scared to name build.
but the distance helps, too, to bring clarity to it. maybe. he's not sure if he should really address it—but it's like a sickness. it hasn't cleared up on his own... so what can he do, right? it's not like he really has anyone to talk to about it. and he and Alluka visited Whale Island, recently—but just once, which felt so criminal and bittersweet. without Alluka, Killua's not so sure he could convince himself to leave in a timely manner—which might be why he visited Gon at all, having Alluka in tow.
but it's been a couple months, since then—and being physically apart from Gon for so long...
he thought it was bad before, how sometimes a catching of their eyes would give his heart an urgent little hiccup, increasing the rate of its pulse... how even though they could bathe together, Killua couldn't stand it if Gon accidentally touched his hand, and how at the same time, he coveted their nearness like any casual vice. but after visiting... it was hard not to seek that out, almost hoping and praying for points of contact from Gon, feeling gross for it—like a bad friend&madsh;who feels like that, who wants that, from their best friend?—and in leaving...
that yawning yearning deep within Killua is more apparent than ever, and it's more and more clear... maybe this just isn't something he can run from.
Killua scrubs his palm down his face, taking his phone out of his pocket again with a weary, dry sigh. he's waffled on this idea for a couple of weeks, but he's decided if he can't stop thinking about it, he just has to. so he does.
he's thought about what to say, over and over again—addendums, additions, thinking about what is and isn't productive to say... and most mystifying of all, what he's trying to convey, or what he hopes to get out of anything. it's purely selfish, isn't it? solely to unburden himself from his own feelings, to his helpless friend, hundreds of miles away...
it wasn't like they'd be apart forever, so Killua's told himself this whole time to keep his shit together, and to ween himself off his feelings. but then, those feelings didn't ebb. he doesn't know what to do.
so he sends a huge, risky text. the night breeze calmly shuffles the snowy strings of his bangs, gaze downcast, worn eyes lit from the blue glow of his screen. and he types away. it's only 1, but he knows Gon is surely asleep by then. Gon can read it whenever, respond whenever—and if he doesn't respond at all, Killua can just pretend, like the feelings that brought this on in the first place, like nothing ever happened.]