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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.]
[1:17AM]
I know it's late, so I'm sorry. I thought about writing you a letter, but I decided I would get too anxious waiting for it to arrive, and also, it's kind of embarrassing, you know?
So I'm sorry, cuz I know it might seem kinda cowardly, but I decided this is the best way to share some stuff I've been thinking about. You aren't obligated to respond a certain way, or respond at all, but I've been thinking a lot. Also, if this comes across as rambling or incoherent... I'm sorry for that too. I'm not good at this stuff.
I've felt like for a while, back in NGL, that I felt misunderstood by you. But I realize finally that it's probably kind of my fault....I never felt like I had to be super clear about anything, because things were always much simpler before then, so I didn't say anything. That's stupid, because things change. And I decided that's natural--we're growing up, right? I thought things would be less complicated once I found my own purpose.....and I have, but recently, I've been feeling like even this can't last forever. It depends on what Alluka wants as we both grow, even if I want this to be it forever.
Which I know is so annoying of me...... You must think I'm so wishy-washy. It's girly, right? But I can't help it... I thought things would change, and they haven't in a lot of ways. I think it's a problem, how I can't stop thinking about you all the time. That might sound normal, because we're best friends no matter what...... but it's not. It's not normal. The way I miss you feels too deep, and too complicated, and too weird.
I put off talking about this for forever because I hoped this feeling would just go away. And because things aren't simple, they can't just be easily fixed. You can't use Nen, I have a lot of dangerous high profile attention--and so do you!--and I have Alluka to take care of, who's just a normal little girl... and it's similar to when I ran away from home, maybe. I wanted a normal life as a kid, and Alluka actually has a better chance of attaining that.
[Killua's lip dimples, staring at his screen. the text fogs, becoming unclear, and he hiccups a little, wiping across his eyes and taking a deep breath before he continues. he's sending things paragraph by paragraph, so he can't take anything back, even as his panic timidly wells... so he has to press on.]
I was too happy to see you. I can't stop thinking about being around you. I can't stop thinking about how I want to be close to you, and how good it feels to be near you.
You really changed my life, in a lot of ways..... and some of those ways scared me. But that was just me being a coward.
I really miss you, Gon. So much I don't know what to do. I just want you to know.... even with everything, I'm always thinking of you. I always miss you.
I'm sorry this is so lame.
no subject
Having personally invited desecration upon himself, he can't tell when he'd first went astray. If it began with Kite, or if it was something he'd invoked himself, faulty logic made in the name of recklessness that starved itself into something voracious for the paltry weeks he'd spent in the NGLβ the same tendency toward malice that screamed through him that day, right on the cusp of self-annihilation.
Stranded on the event horizon of everything, none of it mattered. As long as Kite could return, with recompense as his sticking point; there'd be nothing left to forgive then, which is perhaps only indicative of the worst in Gon. (The part that sought forgiveness so badly, possessing hope, or being inanely possessed by it.)
It's always the uncertainty he hates; the nascent possibility that he'd been wrong all along.
And here, bereft of a single justification that could make his position any less indefensible, he'd cut himself apart from his best friend, left him to dictate the distance that he should've been owed from the start. Of all the people he'd hurt, it'd only been Killua who carried that indefensible burden of responsibility when he'd been too busy carrying out some self-fulfilling prophecy of derision like he'd been owed it. Too much time spent staring at the sun of some feverish dream to tell that he was shredding his retinas, unwilling or unable to back down until he'd, with intention, purposefully blinded himself from the truth.
Gon understood that much. So their encounters plays out just as it has, meeting Killua infrequently, every feeling coagulating between the two of them. Alluka's no deterrent; on the contrary, she's the only one that can keep the peace so it doesn't subsist on strain or crumple fast under pressure. Spending time alone with Killua brokers on all the loose ends, and they're both all the more tetchy for it. Something's off. The exoskeleton of their friendship's stripped down, or its rotting from the inside, decaying in absence and proximity alike.
But when they're apart, the days appear to run together, one bleeding messily into the next. Nights go on longer than anything. Gon takes its cues and buries himself in whatever it'll take to remember that this was the worst outcome: no incendiary end, but the slow, bitter fade of something he'd held so precious, slipping irrepressibly between his fingers. Months go by like that on Whale Island.
To Gon's credit, it takes all that time and more to work on freeing himself from the entropy he imposed on himself, then a little more to strip off the pretense of loss and move forward. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
He's fitful at first with his schoolwork and everything he'd left to the wayside when he first embarked on his adventure. It's laborious progress, arithmetic and literature and the sciences, reacquainting with the small world he'd left behind. It's on one of those ploddingly long, balmy evenings that his phone pings him from his desk.
Wandering over to read it is rote; it's a Pavlovian kind of reaction, given how less and less Killua messages him now. But it's a whole other thing to answer, curling up in bed, sleepless, and later on spending the hours in a daze, from breakfast to lunch to dinner. But volatility always gets the best of him, and late afternoon is when he texts the location in mind, then callsβ and is promptly directed to voicemail.
One, two seconds pass in that fashion, his mouth gone dry, never all that decent at anything resembling eloquence. It's probably for the best it's unrehearsed, though, off the cuff, like every other endeavor he's ever devoted himself toward. ]
Killua, let's meet again. You should have the address. [ Another pause inhabits his mouth until it cleanly breaks it with a click of his teeth. ] I'll answer you properly then, so take care of yourself until we see each other, okay? I'll be waiting.
[ Ending the call just as abruptly, he packs his belongings and takes the next ship out. Even with his Hunter License, sans Nen, he might as well be every bit the amateur he was at the beginning, entailing new risks. But Gon's never been anything but brazen, so it only makes sense that he handles it like this, on the expectation that Killua will meet him halfway.
They're friends, after all. ]
no subject
not that he knows what to do, but at least things are changing in a way that makes him feel less insane.
but their friendship...
that's part of what makes this so hard, and confusing. truthfully, Killua doesn't want the feelings that he has. it makes him feel weirdly disingenuous, maybe, making him doubt his own intentions—because while he had none at all, specifically, wasn't it wrong to look at your best friend that way, and to feel such longing? couldn't it ruin everything?
or did it matter, if things were already half way to completely messed up?
he has no idea.
Killua sucks in a tight breath through his teeth, putting his phone on airplane mode as he tucks his head into his arms, letting his phone clatter on the floor of the balcony, his legs dangling through the railing there as he sits on the edge's floor. his face is hot with anxiety, and he damns himself for being so cowardly as usual—but not tonight. he thinks Gon will be asleep, but doesn't know if he'll impulsively explode to respond—or if he won't respond at all, having no clue what to say to such craziness, or... what. but anything too immediate, Killua can't handle.
he takes another deep breath, and heads to bed. and through the next day, it anxiously occupies the back of his mind, Killua thinks about it; wonders, his hand nervously over his phone, still in airplane mode. he chooses instead to take Alluka's hand, nervously curling his around hers in a specific way that accidentally gives him away, somewhat—a way that draws her curious eye, sensing Killua's edge, that he's seeking comfort.
then when he finally gets the gumption, Killua listens to Gon's voicemail—thankfully not too much longer after he's sent it. and his eyes widen with panic, and Alluka peers up at Killua curiously, asking what's wrong.]
Shit...!
That idiot! Like I don't have things to do... [fussing, Alluka's concern deepens, and Killua takes Alluka's hands, kneeling.] Hey. I'm going to introduce you to someone, okay?
[worried, she asks Killua if everything's okay—and he explains that he has to talk to Gon alone about some personal stuff, and that some of the subjects could get scary. or worse, Killua doesn't mention, he might reveal something about his feelings no one really wants to know about their older brother. yuck. expressing her hesitation, Killua soothes her worries.
then, Killua makes a phone call. there's some casual dismissal, apology (insincere sounding), angry haggling, yelling, and Killua hanging up. he meets Alluka's understandably concerned face, and Killua beams.]
Don't worry. Call me whenever you're nervous, but you guys are gonna get along great, I promise!
[after lots of pleading for Alluka's forgiveness, and bribery for her compliance, Killua meets Bisky for their appointed rendezvous—where she scolds Killua briefly. he hadn't given her the full details, citing that it was something too dangerous for Alluka to be around, but it might take some time...
whatever, they could hash it out later. it's clear Bisky isn't buying it, but Killua promised Bisky he'd leave Gon behind if he couldn't do what he had to do to be his partner in battle... she'd definitely kick his ass for this. it's just a brief thing, but he knows she'd probably criticize their behavior... or something... but she's the best for the job. girly, decently maternal, too powerful to fuck with... and Killua feels like Bisky would be gentle with Alluka for many reasons.
and so, buzzing with nervous energy, fists curled over his knees, Killua heads out to his next rendezvous point—with Gon. first time for them to be alone, but it somehow felt implicit in Gon's response. and of course he'd respond that way—so suddenly with such an inconvenient order, phrased like a suggestion, over a voicemail... his heart thuds heavily, thinking that Gon wanted to talk. he's nervous. but he can't just keep running away from big, scary feelings.]
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Despite leaving the rest of their relationship up the air, he doesn't begrudge Killua for his reluctance to run the final nail through the coffin. For the entirety of the trip, he glances at his phone all of two times: once aboard the ship's deck, and once when he's properly on land, cooling his heels on a response that doesn't come. There's no telling if he's seen it when it's merely an open invitation than anything concrete, but he trusts Killua to find the drive to see this through. Barring that, lay it all to rest.
The port-side city's relatively quiet: sea form curdling on the tide, the tang of salt coasting the water. The sky's humungous, blue as far as he can carve his gaze to watch. There's so much that goes by his notice without Nen, but it's more than he'd bothered to take in before.
He doesn't have to wait long. It starts out as a prickle on his skin, this preternatural knowledge, then the white shock of Killua's hair entering his vision, one out of many in the crowd.
Killua looks well, as if composure's cut its hands on him and made him calm, so unlike that desperation that sits in Gon, like his feelings can never find a reprieve or an outlet. Waving as wildly as Gon does gives too much away, but so does upending the distance when he promptly breaks into a flat sprint. ]
Killuaaaa! Over here!
[ First-degree shamelessness, second-degree foresight: taking off, he doesn't leave Killua any room to lodge a complaint about the gross invasion of his personal space, all but colliding into him.
His windpipe kind of closes around the words after, in light of the achy feeling of squeezing Killua into a hug that's two parts greed and one part fondness. As usual, he errs on the side of rashness. Gon's mouth is busy baring a grin, but it's unseen, tucked against him like he is. No mention of that rambling tangent Killua left him yet, even when he casually extricates himself to sweep his gaze left, then right. ]
How's Alluka? Where is she?
no subject
and to say Gon's exactly as Killua expects when he spots him is simply, absolutely, correct. but he can't help the way his eyes widen, his heart fluttering with excitement in his ribs. somehow, every time he sees Gon, it ignites this tremendous well of emotions that Killua's always so hesitant to pick out and name. but it's dazzling. somehow, every time, it's like that. but aside from the slight parting of his lips, like he's surprised, Killua's reaction is deliberately subdued.
he doesn't even think to guard himself as Gon comes barreling towards him, which definitely does kind of knock him a little off center. he sputters when Gon's arms crush around him, the pressing subsequently of their torsos, the warmth and closeness thankfully so muffled by many layers of clothing.
he lets out a heavy breath when Gon relents, and for how much Killua likes Gon's hugs—he seldom reciprocates them... too shy.]
...Um.
[Killua had wondered if he should have told Gon that he wanted Alluka to stay behind, this time—after all, Killua knows Gon is just aware of how tense and fraught things really are, between the two of them. but Alluka is a bridge without support in those issues, right? and Killua had contacted Gon with his earnest feelings... so maybe it was best that they didn't have an out.
probably dangerous, too. Killua knows that as well. hopefully it's the right decision, but it feels like... right and wrong is totally random, and Killua sometimes can't see what's what until it's too late.
so... they'd see. Killua swallows, scratching his cheek.]
...She's good. She's with Bisky, actually. Just for this trip.
no subject
Gon laughs like the sound's lodged in his windpipe, the sound blurry and appropriately abashed in his throat. ]
Mhm. So we're by ourselves this time? [ Disentangling, Gon rubs the nape of his neck, looking a little more abashed than anything. He'd arrived with the expectation that Alluka would be there, so in that way it's just like before, the two of them and every indiscretion they've shared thus far.
Oh, well.
Hinged on this new development, he abruptly turns, straightening his backpack by its straps. ] ... Alright! Let's get going!
[ It should be readily apparent Gon operates solely on spontaneity and little else, given how neatly he's folded Killua's fingers in his, interlocked as long as it takes to guide him through the crowds from the dock onto the main street. No mention of the message yet, even though he's obviously determined to subject Killua to the kind of torture he's least suited to deal with: emotional torment, the sort liable to flay skin from bone, or chutzpah from resolve. What an absolute degenerate. ]
I'm glad you're here with me. [ Squeezing Killua's hand for emphasis, Gon keeps his eyes trained on the road ahead instead of his best friend, who may or may not be fighting his handhold every inch of the way. ] You're probably feeling hungry after the ride, right? Or... maybe not?
[ Better tell him now before he subjects Killua to the unspeakable horror known as sharing a meal with him. ]
no subject
there's a cold, childish remorse when Gon lets up, and Killua's ignoring the pleading way his stomach twists with longing, expression unbothered. he feels like he can tell Gon's a little nervous, and there's the first curls of sticky self doubt within Killua—he knows it's risky, but he thinks it's the right thing. but his mind already falling spellbound, steadily, in Gon's company, and seeing Gon's politely repressed anxiety... well. too late to worry, right? ugh.
Killua's about to put his hands in his pockets until he feels Gon's fingers interlock with his, and he jumps, eyes flying wide as his voice catches in his throat in an ungraceful, strangled little sound. his heart races again, and Killua looks annoyed. with all the content in his letter, Gon was going to do something like that!? they seldom held hands even when they were younger, so it's a little... does Gon even realize?!
then Gon's words, coupled with the squeeze of his hand, cause Killua's lip to wobble a little bit as he bashfully glances away. he strokes his thumb along the sides of Gon's hand, feeling inappropriately gross for it—like Killua's indulging in something Gon doesn't understand, but Killua does. but it's hard to ignore—harder to resist.]
...Yeah, [predictably, is all Killua manages, and he swallows the lump in his throat. his fingers curl anxiously at his chin, and he glances back at Gon, finally.]
I'm not hungry, but I will be soon.
[the truth is, Killua was pretty hungry on the ship—now that's all been replaced by butterflies and nerves, but he doesn't want to tell Gon that all of this affection has somehow effectively killed his appetite. he'd take it over a meal, anyway—for all his shyness, Killua's a very physically affectionate person. but there's about a hundred reasons he doesn't seek it out as an instigator, with Gon—aside from the occasional piledrive or headlock, a more excusable way to tidily get out his urge to touch.]
no subject
Killua's thumb climbs up his knuckles like ivy on a trellis and it's telling that Gon doesn't relinquish his grip for it. On some unspoken level, maybe that makes him indubitably selfish, clutching to keep contact that only falls short of busying himself with lugging Killua around in the constriction of an embrace, as if that's a viable option at all.
Sorely, he's missed Killua. In lieu of hugging the ache home, he turns his gaze sidelong in askance, taking the sight in. Gon himself is hardly unsatisfied. Maybe a little wanting beneath as he abruptly halts in the middle of the street. Don't go accusing him of being inept, he can do that plenty on his own. ]
Oh! Do you need to go to the bathroom?
[ Clearly. Clearly, self-evidently, as Gon takes a detour into the nearby bistro and calmly extricates himself without any further precursor, unceremoniously depositing him right by the restroom door. ]
I can wait. Take your time.
[ It wouldn't be much of a trip if he couldn't accommodate Killua's needs, like that blush stealing hotly into his cheekbones. No need to be embarrassed now, Killua. Worse terrors await. ]
no subject
then Gon stops suddenly, and.......... asks him...a question like.. that. which certainly snaps Killua out of his feelings, even distracting him from the alluring warmth of their joint connection.]
Uh—[is Killua's graceful initial response. does he?? man, probably, he didn't really—okay. also he could—he doesn't want to sever their contact, but... it's honestly not a bad idea... though Killua feels kind of dazed and foolish, just tossed in front of the door of the cafe.] Yeah, I probably—should... Be right back.
[and so Killua does his thing, and stares at himself in the mirror as he washes his hands, wondering just what the fuck he thinks he's doing. it's predictable that his flight instinct would kick in while he's trying to own up to things, trying to confront hard feelings and to maybe put hard work into where it may need to go... he gazes tiredly at himself, unfairly sick of his own nonsense, and once his hands are dry, he pops his head out to swivel his head around for Gon.
once he finds him, he coolly approaches again—his hands back in his pockets, so he doesn't just...explode.]
You know... since we're here, I think I'm actually in the mood for something sweet to drink.
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This encounter's going disastrously so far, but he's compelled to be the same as always, while Killua's dodgy, skittering in his touch and skittering in the absence of it. Still, the most horrible atrocity Gon's committed thus far is the one that goes unacknowledged: that he hasn't confronted Killua's feelings head-on yet while the tension of this predicament is teething to bite them both. Hm. Faced with a plight of this obscene magnitude, there's really only one thing to do.
By the time his best friend ambles out of the restroom, Gon's waving him over, the huge-ass parfait crowding most of the tabletop beside him obnoxiously saccharine. A dollop of cream on fruit on diabetes in a glass cup. It's not to his own taste, not exactly, so he's pretty unrepentant about offering the spoon over to Killua. ]
Really? I was thinking we could share. [ He wiggles the utensil for emphasis. ] Ah, but...
[ The warning's just his outstretched hand coming up to spread over one shoulder and drag Killua into the undertow of the plush seat, bumping elbows in the process, so Gon can bestow on him the miracle that is the laminated menu. ]
Here you go! [ Gon pulls away shortly after, busying himself with destroying dessert. First course on the menu is the strawberry: it's the first to go sliding down his throat, and then he's wolfing down an apple slice, munching to swallow before answering. One, two bites. ] You don't have to be so nervous, you know. I'm still me, and you're still you. That won't change.
[ Though Gon hasn't addressed the message Killua left him in the slightest yet, he's intent, a little too perceptive than a boy chomping away at sweets has any insufferable right being. ]
Did you miss me, Killua?
[ Like he doesn't already know. ]
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relentless... physical affection. the touching of his hands, holding them, hugging him, and now—while momentarily distracted by the alluring sight of the parfait, though he indeed isn't hungry (but it's not like calories mean anything to someone like Killua)—Gon has his arm over his shoulders, saying ridiculous things, asking ridiculous things. all of these things as individual aspects aren't really so strange, from Gon—as individual aspects, they're common occurrences, but all at once... is a lot.
Killua doesn't even respond when Gon pushes the menu towards him, much, simply taking it hollowly. thankfully, he feels his brain begin to reboot when Gon pulls away to busy himself with his parfait...
then he—says all...that.]
G-Gon! Jeez!
[Killua flushes, pushing Gon's face as he snatches a spoon, taking a greedy, heaping spoonful of the parfait, balancing it somewhat miraculously.]
I know!
[the truth is—these feelings have been with Killua so long... of course he hasn't changed. but these feelings being out, if Gon even understands the extent of them, as they share this tiny booth cushion... it's not like their dynamic wouldn't be at least a little bit altered. to his question, Killua blinks, sweat rolling down his cheek, and he pushes harder on Gon's face, shoving the spoonful of the parfait into his mouth, talking rudely around the handle of the spoon.]
Of courf I did!! Why woulf I say a bu'ch'a dumb stuff like tha' if I didn' miff you!!
[Killua extracts the spoon, scowling. but it's a little unsteady, his voice similar in its wavering, and low.]
You're killing me, you idiot...