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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.]
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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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...