Archive of Our Own ^beta

The lights pulsed, oscillating between blue, purple, and red. Music pounded through the speakers and made the floor shake. It made Killua's blood thrum harder in his veins and thumped absently against his ear drums. He was leaned against the club's bar, watching the mass of bodies on the floor shift and roll like an amoeba.

There was a man who came here every Thursday night to pop ecstasy in the bathroom, lounge himself over the couches in the alcoves, dance amongst the throng, and then leave with someone new. It wasn't always in that order, but that was what Killua was told. He nursed the small drink he'd ordered to blend in close to his chest and started wandering. Strolling the perimeter of the club and keeping an eye out for bright pink hair done up in ponytail, planted on top of the man's head. He would be wearing shades indoors, with a blue tint and silver frames. He had piercings up his ears and a leather jacket with no shirt underneath.

Killua knew he was a Yorknew local, that his father ran a media conglomerate whose headquarters were in the city, that Killua's client had put out a string of hits—hiring himself, his father, and Illumi—to make sure that the company could become his.

Pure ambition, and one Killua didn't really care about. He had a job, and he would get it done. And his job was perhaps the easiest, rather than taking out the father or the company's partner to make room for the client. Despite the restrictions the client requested—to keep it quiet, make it look natural, have no witnesses—Killua was in his element. He already liked to kill like that. He had everything he needed. A little poison, something slipped in the target's drink, make it look like an overdose. And if that wouldn't work, he had other things prepared, hidden in his pockets.

He spotted the target at the center of the floor with his arms raised up, his jacket long lost, and big black letters printed across his chest. Even from where he stood, Killua could clearly read it.

Fuck you too, man.

Black. Either a tattoo or a soul mark brought to fruition. It didn't change anything, so Killua told himself. Everyone had one, red or black, and it hadn't stopped him killing them dead before.

His own was red, as the words hadn't been said to him yet, and a thick scar ran through them. A part of his training. One of the many steps they took to make him better at killing. If he couldn't read the words, then he wouldn't know his soulmate when they said them. They weren't fully obfuscated by the scar, but they were still illegible. Not that he hadn't spent a lot of time when he was younger, before they took it away, reading and rereading the words. Memorizing them for that very eventuality.

His father's were white, proof that his true other half was dead. Killed by Killua's father or his grandfather or great grandfather, he didn't know for sure, but it wasn't important. Illumi's own were black. Killua knew them well. Are you going to kill me? He could imagine how it was said very clearly, with undue joviality and a smirk. A flash of a razor-sharp playing card. Killua knew why his father kept Illumi's soulmate around, even if Killua wished they'd just killed him and been done with the lecher. Illumi wouldn't take over. There was no need.

Killua wished his own words would stay red, so he didn't have to deal with the eventuality of their being white. Ah, sorry! Are you okay? They seemed so much kinder than he deserved.

When he slipped, his drink was fruity, as its blue and orange colors would suggest. Vodka, blue raspberry, and pineapple. He didn't know what the drink would be when he ordered it, but it was good.

The crowd leapt to his target's rhythm. The pink-haired man was jumping to the beat of the music in the center of the crowd, pumping his fists in the air, and yelling nonsensically. Killua began walking, intermittently keeping an eye on his path forward and his target as he made his way to the alcoves near the back of the club. Couches lined their interiors and dim white lights shined down on them. Killua assumed that, among one of the alcoves, he would find the cast-aside jacket thrown on the couch.

He passed some more club-goers—one nursing a drink with a dead look in their eyes, two swallowing each other's tongues, three nearly talking over each other rapidly about... What was it? Some video game he vaguely remembered stealing from Milluki and playing when he was fifteen. He only just recognized some of the terms they were using but didn't hang around long enough to listen more to them.

The next alcove he came to had a woman asleep at the table with a leather jacket pulled over her. On her arm were thick black words. Hey, fuck you. Killua tried not to think too much about it. He kept walking, noting mentally which alcove it was, noting the empty table and the possible witness. It soured his mood a bit. He could kill the two easily if he didn't need to make it look like an accident. Could slit both of their throats, rip out their hearts, and leave them where they were.

With a glance back toward the alcove and the woman, he left the club. The streetlights were bright, but they didn't strain his eyes as much as the lights of the club. He took stock of his surroundings. The tall buildings of Yorknew's downtown framed his sight—tall grey skyscrapers, glittering with office lights. Cars lined the street in front of the club, and he scanned their plates. His plan had been rewritten in his head as he left, and he was now keeping his eyes out for a few things. The right car, the driver, security.

It wasn't parked out front, which he sort of expected, but figured it would be nearby. So, he started wandering, glancing this way and that. The car, as he discovered, was parked in a nearby lot. The driver was hanging outside with two men in semi-formal wear smoking cigarettes and laughing about something Killua didn't hear the context to.

Silently, he moved around them, keeping to the darkness and out of their immediate sights, he rounded the car and slipped underneath it. He turned his hands to claws and, with an ear turned on the conversation between the driver and his companions, set to work on cutting the car's brake lines. For the final touch, he planted a small bomb he nicked from Milluki into the car's frame. He wouldn't be setting it off. It was an older one, so it didn't have all that much blast power on its own, but accompanied with the car being unable to stop, it would make any collision fatal.

He was almost sorry for the driver and the target's soulmate, assuming the latter would be in the car with him, despite what his father and brother had tried to drill in his head all his life, but he needed an accident. The bomb would make sure it was all a fiery mess, so that no one would discover the brake lines cut, so that there would be no problems for the client when he took over the company in the near future. It would just be a tragic accident. That, at least, is what the newspapers would say.

With the hit settled, Killua removed himself and slipped back into the darkness. The driver was laughing again, which told Killua that he'd been quiet and careful enough not to be noticed.

So he retreated, hands slipped into his pockets, and folded himself into the background on the opposite side of the road. He strolled, back towards where the nightclub shined brightly like a beacon. He wanted to make sure the job was done and the target was dead before he said anything to his father. Across from the nightclub, he tucked himself into one of the alleyways and waited, the hood of his jacket pulled over his head to cover his hair and make it a little less obvious that a Zoldyck assassin was waiting in the shadows.

He kept an eye on the clock, and just as the seconds marked it 12:02, the target stumbled out of the club with his soulmate. The woman was in a red dress, sleeveless, with black flowers stenciled up its side. The two were laughing as they slowly made their way to the lot where their car and driver were. Killua waited until they were a good distance away before he pushed off the wall he'd been waiting against—flipping his phone open and letting the blue light shine on him for just a moment before closing it again, pretending like he'd been waiting for something else—and began to walk in the direction of the lot. It was key to remain casual, to not walk too hurriedly. Having a destination but no rush to get to it.

The couple were stumbling, arms wrapped around each other and talking loudly, manically into the moonlight. He couldn't catch what it was they were talking about, but it didn't really matter. They were going to be dead soon.

He glanced down again at his phone. 12:04. And no messages from his father or Illumi asking for updates. Good.

Just as he was shutting his phone down again and slipping it into his pocket, the entire right side of his body collided with something solid and heavy. The phone clattered on the sidewalk, falling from its fragile path. Despite the fact that he had kept his own balance perfectly fine and wouldn't have fallen over anyway, a hand had grabbed his arm to hold him up, as though its owner had narcissistically believed that the blow was enough to put him on his ass.

"Ah, sorry! Are you okay?"

His stomach felt like lead.

"Move." He growled, beginning to shove himself away from the man. It felt like his throat was full of the hearts of everyone in the city but himself. His own was pounding hard in his chest.

It was then he noticed the mark on the man's hand. The hand that was slipping away from his arm, brightened by the streetlights. He watched as it turned from red to black. He tried not to focus too hard on it. He didn’t want to make the man notice when he didn’t have to.

Without another word, Killua scooped up his phone—there was a small crack in the screen, but otherwise good to go—and tore himself away from the man, passing around him on the sidewalk.

"Wait," the man said, voice a bit confused, as he turned back to Killua and again reached out. Killua ran. Not too fast, not Godspeed, but enough to get away. He ignored the echoing 'wait's that trailed after him.

A car sped past him, tearing down the road. He recognized the car. He could see his target in the driver's seat with a big grin on his face, and he let out a sigh of relief, ignoring the sound of shoes pounding pavement as the 'wait's got closer.

He turned on his phone again and sent a quick message to Illumi.

Coming back.

The man's hand fell on his shoulder as he quickly put his phone back into his pocket and turned again to look at the stranger to whom he was bound by fate.

"You're... Can we..." He seemed at a loss for words. His eyes were brown. Light brown. Killua thought they would be gold in the sunlight. He had dark hair and olive skin, tanned with hard labor. He was big. Only a little taller than Killua, with large arms that boasted of trained strength. He was in a hoodie with jeans tucked into brown lace up boots. He was also maintaining a solid ten as though it were second nature. Killua filed that fact away as well.

"We can't," Killua answered. "I have to go."

The man blinked. "We could—I don't know—later when we're not busy? We could meet? I'll give you my number so you can—"

He was interrupted by an explosion down the street. The man whipped around toward it as his phone started to ring.

And while he was suitably distracted, Killua dropped his zetsu and took off with Godspeed.

His father deposited his third of the contract's payment into his account before he had even crossed the perimeter of Kukuroo Mountain.

He walked through the front doors of the estate. He hadn't seen anyone since passing Canary at the boundary, so he slipped through the cold stone hallways of the estate without another word, passing no butlers, surprisingly, and no other members of his family.

He walked to one of the many training chambers littered throughout the manor. Some of the worst years of his life had been spent in these rooms, but it helped to come back. He threw his jacket against the wall as he entered the room. It was mostly bare, with a wall-length mirror to his left and hard stone floors. There were metal bars across the ceiling which would randomly become charged, if he turned them on. It was both a test of reflexes and pain tolerance. Killua liked it because it was a good place to recharge his Nen.

He flicked a switch on the wall and stripped off his shirt, leaving it with his jacket. He could now see where his mark had turned black; the top of the h, t, and l and the bottom of the ys were still visible beneath the thick reddish scar on his arm. Their black was thick and heavy in his arm. Turning his gaze away, he leapt up to the bars and began the exercise, waiting until the metal under his fingers started to tingle before leaping to the next.

He was able to work up a sweat, throwing his body around, and the strength he developed was helpful when he was launching himself up the side of a building with Godspeed. Sometimes, though, he would stay hanging from an electrified bar. Letting the biting and burning sensation flow through his bones and flaring ren.

He was hanging after about 20 minutes of jumping back and forth between the bars when Illumi came in. His brother was silent, watchful. Big black eyes stared at him while he hung there.

"Isn't it on?" He asked simply, not checking the switch.

"It's on,” Killua confirmed, feeling the electricity flee the bar he was hanging on into another.

Illumi gave an approving hum. "Obituaries for the last job are out. Dad has them if you wanted to read one."

Killua couldn't tell whether this was some kind of test or if his brother was actually interested in the types of things they wrote about famous corporate men in newspapers. "No thanks. How'd yours go?"

He got a stiff shrug. "Normal. Boring. He hung himself."

With a glance at his brother's unmoving expression, Killua dropped to the floor again and returned to the door, by Illumi, where he flipped the switch on the electricity. The slight buzz they emitted cut off, and the room was dead silent apart from some distant echoes at some other end of the estate.

"How'd you manage that?" Killua asked, interested.

"Needle under the fingernail. The puncture will be too small to notice in the autopsy. Yours?"

Killua shrugged, distantly wondering if it would cause any post-mortal bruising. "Car crash, if you can believe it. Heard he died on impact."

"And the car?"

"Barely a chunk of metal."

"Good." Illumi nodded, and his gaze drifted over to the bars again. "You hated this room."

Killua draped his shirt and jacket over his arm, not wanting to drench both in his sweat. They covered up the mark on his arm, so if Illumi hadn't noticed before, there'd be nothing to see now.

"Used to. I thought it was boring. It's useful now though," he said. "Did you need anything or are you just poking around?"

Illumi leveled him an unimpressed look, even more than what was normal for him.

"May I see your arm?" Illumi said with that same level of gravitas that he always seemed to. The way he seemed to float on the air, through action or through word. Not so much a doll as a marionette.

Killua presented the arm that wasn't holding the clothes. "What about it?"

"No,” Illumi’s voice hardened slightly, sending a chill down Killua’s spine. “The other one."

In response, Killua only brought the arm he had outstretched back to him, curling it with his marked arm and his clothes. He met his brother's steely gaze with his own.

"You noticed, then." There was no point in lying anymore. Not when Illumi had seen right through him.

"I did. You've met your soulmate."

"What about it?" He asked, trying not to sound as defensive as he felt. He wondered if other people, upon meeting their soulmate, felt such an adhesion to them. Killua did not want to remember every detail of the man on the sidewalk as much as he did.

Illumi, for a moment, almost looked kind. It could have been a trick of the light, but Killua almost wanted to believe that it was a genuine interaction with his brother.

"It's a loose end. You'll have to cut it. If you don't, one of us will." A trick of the light then. He should’ve thought so, but it still kind of hurt.

"And Hisoka isn't a loose end?" Killua asked―the question more pointed than casual, not at all coming out as he had wanted it to.

The kindness Illumi had captured in his eyes splintered, only slightly. They looked like the screen of Killua’s phone.

"You're more important to the family than I am,” he said. He meant it, but Killua did not believe him. The truth was hazy enough for the lie not to be blatant.

"Doubt I'd ever find the person again, anyway," he said, voice slipping back into a casual drawl. "Even if I looked, I was in a nightclub. Talked to a lot of people."

Illumi smiled pleasantly. "I have ways of finding what I need to know, Killu."

The final word was like a spear. Killua did not show it hitting him. Indeed, he did have his ways, and that was something Killua knew very well. But how likely would it be for Illumi to find that man after Killua had sworn he lost him. Killua looked into his brother's eyes and saw coiling emptiness. Incredibly likely, then.

The man from the sidewalk, if he really wanted to find Killua, as he expected he did, considering the way he’d acted when their marks had turned black, may be looking for him, inconspicuously asking around after him. Killua didn’t know if he’d caught any identifying features, but the act of looking itself could send Illumi right to him. Killua, too, could find him that way.

"Are you going to fight me about this?" Illumi asked him, and the words struck his ribcage like a hammer, sending shivers rumbling through his skeleton. He looked at his older brother quietly for a moment. Did Killua really care so much about this stranger that he'd go against the will of his family?

He thought of light brown eyes, the words on his scarred arm, and a mark turning from red to black. He ignored every aching feeling that began to creep into his head that even touched upon seeing those eyes light up in the sun, feelings those hands again on him. He tried very hard to ignore it all.

"Yes," he said.

Illumi looked about as surprised as a rusted nail and ran a hand through Killua's hair.

"Then let us begin." With that, he left. Were someone else watching the exchange, they might have said that Illumi vanished, but Killua was attuned to things that moved quickly. His brother did not disappear; he had left the way he came, leaving Killua’s sense before the door had even closed. He could no longer tell where Illumi was in the house―if he was, indeed, still in the house.

"Shit," he muttered. He really hoped his soulmate appreciated the inner mission he started over him.

There were two ways Killua figured he could resolve this: saving the man from Illumi or killing him himself. The latter option was only slightly appealing when he thought about all the trouble he was putting himself through for this stranger, but then again, why, after all the effort, would he kill the man?

As long as Killua could ensure his safety against the Zoldyck family...

Again, his stomach felt like lead, and he was wondering if this was worth it, if Illumi would simply forgive him if he came back with a white mark and none of the drama. He hadn’t stopped feeling like his bones were freezing under his skin since the inner mission had started, since Illumi had decided that Killua was, in a way, his enemy. Nonetheless, he found himself on his way back to Yorknew City, already sorting out a bit of a plan―though he knew it could be derailed at any moment―and hoping beyond hope that his soulmate had done the sensible thing and left.

When he finally made it to the city proper, he immediately surveyed the crowd. Perhaps looking for the man from the sidewalk, or signs of his brother, or any combination thereof.

People were going about their daily business, seemingly undisturbed. He didn’t notice anyone hobbling their way around the city center, dragging their limbs like monsters in a pulp horror movie, or any lax expressions. If Illumi had planned to deploy any needle-men, he either hadn't done so in Yorknew proper or hadn't done so yet. He kept his eyes open. The crowds would be good ammo and intelligence for Illumi, but as Illumi didn't know what Killua's soulmate looked like, deployment would probably wait until then.

Killua slipped as best as he could into the crowd. It was broad daylight, so the shades and ball cap he wore to obscure his features weren't too inexplicable. He was in zetsu, had been since before he even set foot in the city, so Illumi wouldn't be able to find the man through him. And Illumi wouldn't know that Killua's soulmate also had Nen, and so wouldn't be able to track him that way.

Killua also wouldn't be able to track him that way, despite knowing that, and mentally cursed the limitations of his own ability out of annoyance. He looked up, tracing the rooftops of the buildings for any sign of his brother but didn't see anything outright. That didn't mean much. They were both ostensibly master assassins; they could hide when they wanted. Killua adjusted his hat at the brim, settling it more snuggly on his head and followed the pull of the crowd.

The downtown of Yorknew was bright lights and open spaces filled to the brim—the former even though it was the middle of the day. The hot air of the desert sat thin and heavy, huddled about him and the bodies around him. He saw a man in a fitted suit fanning himself with a folder, but the heat didn't bother him much. He just kept his eyes on the crowd as he wandered toward the epicenter of the city.

The epicenter was an auspicious white paneled building with the Hunter Association logo prominently displayed near its top. At its roof, a zeppelin with the logo sat, haloed by the shining sun. This wasn't the headquarters of the Association, but it must have been a well-financed branch office. Traffic of people and vehicles curled around it, like a snake slithering through undergrowth. In front of the building was a group of, he assumed, hunters with their auras freely flowing. There were about five of them, and in their midst, Killua saw a familiar—almost startlingly so—shock of black hair.

He played it cool, ignoring how his heart pounded at the sight of his soul's missing piece and navigated through the crowd toward them. He did not approach his soulmate, assuming that there were eyes on him, and approached another. It was a tall, thin man with blue hair and a white jacket. Killua beckoned him over.

The hunter casually disengaged himself, and while the man was approaching him, Killua wondered how obvious he was being to Illumi. There were quite a few other men in the crowd of hunters, if Illumi decided to specifically target this man and his compatriots.

"D'you need something?" The hunter slipped a hand into his jacket pocket and smiled at Killua. That was a good start. They needed to appear friendly to some degree or else Illumi would certainly get suspicious.

Killua, in response, nodded, fishing a small paper note he'd prepared on the way over out of his pocket.

"Take this," he said, voice low but loud enough to be heard over the din of the crowd.

The hunter's face slipped into a puzzled frown as he glanced down at the note.

"Wait, what is this?"

Killua shook his head. "Hold onto it. Don't say anything. I'm trying to help him." As he had nothing more he wanted to say and nothing more he wanted to hear from the blue-haired hunter, Killua turned back and rejoined the crowd, not looking back until he was far enough not to be seen.

When he did, he saw the hunter had rejoined his fellows. He was scratching at the back of his head, and Killua's soulmate was scanning the crowd. He probably suspected something, but Killua was sure he wouldn't be able to find him. He'd already tucked himself soundly into the shadows.

He turned his gaze then onto the crowd, watching it mill about and keeping his eye out for pink, black, or blue hair. Killua didn't think Illumi would bring out Gittarackur because of how inconspicuous the appearance was, but he wouldn't put it above the elder. He still felt eyes on him and looked back toward the hunters. His soulmate had a sad-looking frown on his face, but it looked like the group was beginning to take off. Except one.

Near the back, closer than the others to Killua, was a short person with gray hair and a green dress. Her eyes were directly on him in the shadows, and he felt his heart rate spike as he bolted backwards and up the wall. Her eyes turned away from him, but clinging as he was to the alley wall, something told him that she still knew where he was.

He did not move until all of the hunters had gone their separate ways, and even then, he only scaled the building, abandoning his hat and glasses to the alley's floor, figuring he wouldn’t need an inconspicuous appearance if he was no longer trying to blend in with the crowd. He waited on the roof—flat, with a small boxy entrance into the building and a couple HVAC units—and kept his eye on the Hunter Association office.

Illumi was going to kill that blue-haired hunter―or at least, that was what Killua was hoping for. By engaging him, Killua was hoping that his watcher would take him to be his soulmate, and on top of that, he was hoping the hunter would be able to dissuade his soulmate from searching for him. The note, if the hunter heeded it, had asked him to convince Killua's soulmate to stop looking for him. It was the best he could do, not knowing names, and not wanting to direct too many arrows at the man. If Illumi could figure out that the black-haired man was his soulmate from a single note that described nothing of him and just told him to stop looking, Killua would freely admit that he had been underestimating his brother.

The hunters split apart, running in opposite directions into the city. He supposed they had their own job to do. That must have been what his soulmate was doing when they met, just as he was doing his own.

Maybe when this was all over, they'd meet and get to talk about everything. Who they were, what they wanted from each other. It wouldn't even have to be romantic if they didn't want it to be, though one thought of those eyes had Killua almost letting himself wish that it was. Even though that wouldn't technically be allowed by his family—lovers, friends, the lot of it―they would make it harder for him to kill, make him softer. He knew that. He'd had a phase of wanting friends as a child and a phase of wanting love as a teenager, and both times he'd realized that those kinds of things were meaningless to him. Unnecessary.

The mark on his arm felt heavy. He didn't know exactly why he was doing this, but he was doing this. And apparently it meant so much to him that he'd stand up to Illumi, even if he couldn't really parse it in his head.

He thought about killing his soulmate, but all he could really think about were those eyes smiling at him under a streetlight. The way they sparkled and shone. He tried to imagine himself stabbing the man in the chest, but he thought of them at a streetside café in Padokea, sipping too-expensive coffee and talking, instead. He was gone. Long and far gone, and he'd barely had a single conversation with the man.

His family was right. Soulmates were dangerous. He couldn't lose that man for anything in the world.

Two of the hunters returned an hour after they'd separated. The two older looking men—one with a briefcase and one with a large object wrapped in fabric strapped to his back—made their way inside the office. The others hadn't returned yet, but Killua still waited, sitting cross-legged, to see if the trap he’d set had sprung.

The sun had started to set, dyeing the sky blood red, when he was joined on the roof.

"You're doing a poor job." He felt the hard edge of something sharp rest against the side of his neck.

"Are you trying to threaten me? Because it isn't really working."

He tried not to imagine the look on Hisoka's face. The way he could hear his voice curl in amusement was more than enough for a portrait of the man. "Why not?"

Killua waved absently toward the playing card. "I’m assuming you'd count as family by now."

"Your father wouldn't."

"Illumi might."

The card was removed from his neck, and the clown knelt down beside him. "He wouldn't, which is just as well." Hisoka's arms stretched out in front of him, and Killua could very clearly see the word Yes written out in thick black ink on his forearm. "It'd take all the sweetness away if he did."

Killua pointedly did not look him in the eye. "So why did he send you here? Are you gloating?"

Two more hunters arrived back at the office. The person who spotted him and his soulmate. They looked harried. His soulmate ran inside, but the person he was with stopped just outside and put their hands beside their ears. Killua's brow furrowed.

"Gloating? Would I do that?" Hisoka drawled. "He was worried about you."

Killua rolled his eyes. "Sure. Worried."

"How's your arm?"

With that, he finally met Hisoka's gaze. He didn’t want to consider that he was hoping for openness in the man’s face and found none of that.

He was leering, face scrunched up in self-satisfaction which Killua assumed to be masking something else entirely. So, this was some kind of test. Killua wasn't sure what the right answer would be. If he should assume they'd offed the fake soulmate, or if they were holding him alive to catch Killua at his own game. His father hadn't mentioned any physical sensation that came with his mark turning white. It could have been a trap to make him check his arm, to see if it had indeed changed color.

His eyes dropped down to Hisoka's arm again. "How's yours?"

The clown had the gall to laugh. A reaction that in no way told Killua if he said the right thing. "Your brother is getting ready for his next move. We hope you're ready."

"Oh, completely. I hope he's ready to admit I'm right."

Killua nearly thought Hisoka's smile was genuine at that, but he wouldn't bet on it. He wouldn't expect much of anything genuine to come out of Hisoka except the mark on his arm.

"That would be a joy to see. I hope I'm around if he does." Hisoka then leapt to the next building, racing back to wherever Illumi thought he should go, and probably not taking a direct route lest Killua decide to tail him and for his own sense of amusement.

Killua didn't need to. He was exactly where he needed to be.

When he turned his gaze back to the Association office, the person who had noticed him earlier was gone, and he hadn't caught sight of anyone familiar in the area. To be sure, he rolled up his sleeve and checked his arm.

The black markings were still there. That was a relief. He rolled his sleeve back down.

"You are here!" An enthusiastic voice said from behind him.

The relief was perhaps premature, he thought as he stood up and turned around. Before him once again was his soulmate, with that shorter hunter beside him. She gave Killua a pleasant wave. Killua, in turn, quickly turned back the way he saw Hisoka leave. While he was no longer in the area, it would only take a fragment of a thought for either Illumi or him to come back to this roof.

"What the fuck are you thinking?" Killua hissed at him. "Can’t you just—!"

His soulmate crossed the distance between them with big, self-confident strides and looked him in the eye.

"Tell me what's going on, please," he said. "I can help you if I know what to do."

This man was far more stupid than Killua had begun to think―coming up here without knowing the first thing that was going on. "Absolutely not. You need to get out of here before you fucking die."

The man took the small note Killua had given to the blue-haired hunter out of his pocket and held it up. "Why shouldn't I look for you?"

"Because if you do that, you will be murdered. I'm trying to keep you alive." Killua gestured to the paper. "Do you have that because he's dead? The guy I gave it to?"

His soulmate nodded—brow furrowed. "Yeah, we... Senritsu and I found his body..."

Killua nodded. Then, Hisoka was probing, right? It didn't prove anything, least of all that Illumi thought the man was Killua's soulmate, but it did put a wrap on his first plan.

"Okay, then why did you come up here?"

The shorter hunter, Senritsu, raised her hand. "I recognized your voice from earlier. When you gave the note to Mic. When we saw what was on the note, I thought you might have been the one Gon was looking for."

Killua's soulmate—Gon, apparently—nodded. "And it is you. Why did you come back? Were you looking for me?"

Killua sighed and pressed a knuckle to his temple. "Senritsu, that's your name, right?" He turned to the shorter hunter. She nodded. "Can you take him back to the Association office before something happens?"

She nodded again, before her hands flew to her ears.

"Something's coming," she said in her soft tones with barely a second of delay, and Killua quickly dropped zetsu, activating Godspeed. The rooftop and the hunters were painted in the blue glow of his Nen. He barely saw the needle that came flying near his head, but he caught it, nonetheless.

He turned to find Illumi standing on an adjacent rooftop. It wasn’t the direction that Hisoka had left by, but the two were there, shadowed against the neon city lights that were slowly turning on as the sun drifted lower and lower.

"Oh, good," Illumi called. "Looks like I don't have to draw him out myself."

Killua swiped two playing cards from the air as well.

"Senritsu," he said. "Get to the office." He turned to Gon. "You, hold on."

Without another word, he plucked another needle thrown at them from the air and threw it away before heaving Gon into his arms and flitting off further into the city. He vaguely registered Senritsu bolting for the entrance into the building they were atop.

Gon was... a little too bulky to carry comfortably, but he was compliant which was all Killua could ask for right now. They shot through the darkening sky of Yorknew, and it was all Killua could do to ignore the hands clutching at him and focus on where they were going.

And there, it seemed, was on the far end of the city, where Killua landed behind some buildings and pressed himself against the wall, catching his breath and taking stock of his Nen. The alley was dark, all of its dirt and debris shined under his light. Based on how much charge he still had, he could probably get chased around by his brother for 24 more hours, as he hadn’t used much in the dash. He hoped it didn't come to that.

"Okay. Can I... Can I ask you questions now?" Gon said quietly. Killua switched off Godspeed, not wanting to waste the power if he wasn't going to be using it. He slipped into zetsu, and Gon followed suit. At least he was smart enough to take stock of situations and react accordingly.

"To answer one," he replied. "They want to kill you because you're my soulmate, right? I shouldn't have one." It was bad for business, but that wasn't something he wanted to explain right now.

"Why not?"

"Family stuff." Killua found it a fitting simplification.

"No, but everyone has one."

"Doesn't matter. I can't. Normally, it's not a big deal, and somebody offs them."

He wasn't looking at Gon. He was looking into the road beyond them. The streetlights were flickering on, slowly. They burned a bitter gold and buzzed with electricity.

"Am I different?" Gon asked.

Killua sighed. "Maybe." To him.

"What's your name?"

He let himself look again at those earnest eyes that seemed to burn with their own internal light. As though he were the source of something precious, something valuable, perhaps. Gon’s face was grim, pulled tight, almost sad and pleading.

"Killua. Nice to meet you, Gon."

That light sparked brighter, burning with such an intensity it was almost like daytime was held in the other man's eyes. Light brown turning into sunlight, or into gold.

"You too," he said, the words bursting with joy he couldn't keep in his chest.

They ran. They ducked through alleyways and into an abandoned office building outside of town. From the windows, Killua could see the desert outside Yorknew stretching into the horizon.

Gon's en covered the building and a good bit of the path coming to it, keeping them safer than under Killua's own ability. For what it was, Killua felt conflicted about it. He liked having his wellbeing in his own hands. Yes, there stood the fact that Gon was his soulmate, and if he was so keen on keeping him alive, maybe it would do him some good to trust him with something like this. Yes, it was good to let others, on his side, fill in where he could not. But as much as his soul yearned for him to, Killua could not completely trust Gon just yet.

"Are we going to wait for them to come to us?" Gon asked, eyes earnest.

"I wasn't planning to. We'd be under siege, and who knows how many men Illumi's picked up now." Killua began pacing, hoping it would help him think.

"And Illumi is..."

"My brother."

"Right. And the other guy?"

"His soulmate."

Gon frowned. "Why does he get one and you don't?"

"Because I'm our father's heir, and he isn't."

Gon's frowned deepened. "That's a fucked up double standard."

"Well." Killua crossed his arms over his chest. "It's not really... It's obligations and tradition and blood, and it's kind of hard to get into everything. We need to be thinking of a plan right now, not getting into my family's politics."

Gon didn't seem to want to drop the line of questioning, but he relented.

"So, what are we dealing with?"

"Manipulation and transmutation," Killua answered. "By the way, what are you? Mine's also transmutation."

"Enhancement."

"Great, okay. They might be trying to track our Nen, but we're fine on that front. Unfortunately, Illumi now knows what you look like, so he might also be sending needle-men." Killua shook his head. "If they can track us. I didn't see anyone while we were running. Doesn't mean there wasn't anyone, but Illumi could have some shit luck."

"Why can't we just fight them?"

Killua blinked. "He's my brother. I can't hurt him. It's against family rules, and he’s definitely stronger than me. Technically, I could go after Hisoka, but he'd like that too much."

"Okay… so how do we stop them from trying to kill me?"

Killua paused. He thought. Would Illumi change his mind for anything Killua did? He hadn't yet, but he could be fickle. The most important thing to Illumi, Killua thought, was Killua, or at least, he would have to be for any plan of his to work. Staying stalwart in his defense of Gon might sway Illumi's judgement, proving that in killing Gon, Illumi would lose Killua too.

He blinked again. Could it really be something so petty? Threatening his brother that he'd never come home again if he killed his soulmate? No. That wasn't it. Illumi knew as well as he did that, soulmate or no, it wouldn't keep Killua away from the estate.

Hisoka was a different case entirely. It was a lot harder for him to understand what was going on behind the man's eyes. He knew he valued strength above all else, but he didn’t know much else.

He looked at Gon again. Gon looked strong, even if appearances didn’t amount to much, but he couldn't just throw him to the wolves (read: Hisoka) in the hope that it would make them back down. It stood that this was Illumi's fight, first and foremost, and while there was a slight chance of Hisoka continuing to hunt Gon after Illumi called the mission, Killua expected the clown had better things to do.

"Wait," Killua said. "Those other hunters. Could they help?"

Gon shrugged, then nodded. "I think so. I'll let them know where I am." He pulled out a phone. Killua crossed the room and grabbed his wrist.

"Don't tell them where. Just to keep an eye out." He didn't know whether Illumi would be listening in, and he didn't really want to find out. "They should know the situation, but you can't say where we are. Do you have an encoder?"

Gon blinked, confused. "A what?"

"Like so they can't listen in or track your phone."

"Oh," Gon said. "No, I don't."

Killua pulled out his own. "Fine, use mine. No one can bust this thing."

Gon took it, dialing the number of one of the other hunters and turning it quickly to speaker. They waited as the other end rang.

"So, when I tell them what's going on, what should I say because honestly, I don't really get it either."

"You've got two highly-trained murderers hunting you down."

Gon made a face. The call connected.

"Hello?" An older man's voice said on the other end. He was obviously guarded, but he had answered, nonetheless.

"Morel? It's Gon. I need the team's help if you can spare it."

There was a crinkling on the other line that Killua couldn't differentiate before a short period of silence.

"Maybe. Paladiknight's got his hands tied, but I've got time. What's going on?"

Gon looked at Killua as he answered. "I'm being hunted down."

"Senritsu said you got attacked. They're going after you?"

Gon brightened up, hearing about her, and Killua felt a little relieved. Illumi was really losing his game if he'd let her get away. Killua frowned. Unless Illumi didn't let her get away and this was all a trap if they decided to get the hunters involved. He kept his gaze steady on Gon, ready to jump in if he gave any indication of where they were.

"She's okay?"

"She's fine. Got a bit scared, but she didn't get hurt. But she did get followed. Dropped dead once we got the giant needles out of their heads."

Gon looked back at Killua. "Is that one of those things you mentioned? Needle-men?"

Killua nodded.

"What was that? You know what these are?"

"I think it's the Nen ability of one of the people trying to kill me."

"Senritsu told me what happened when you were attacked. I'm assuming you two got away safe. Do you know who attacked you?"

"Uh, yeah. So, my soulmate's family doesn't want me to be alive, and that's who attacked me. Your brother has the needles, right? Manipulation?"

Killua nodded again.

"Okay. We can deal with that. What else do I need to know?"

Gon looked to Killua.

"I can give you descriptions," Killua said, finally speaking up. "I don't know if Senritsu was able to see them well on the roof."

"Right, go ahead."

"First, how do I know you're not being controlled?"

The man on the other end was quiet for a moment.

"Does this phone receive texts?"

"It does. What are you thinking?"

"Senritsu will take a video of me, so you can check for needles."

That was comforting. Killua told the man to send it.

When it did arrive, Killua put his end of the call on mute and examined the video with Gon. The man passed—his jaw was aligned and his brow straight where it sat above his sunglasses. In the video, Senritsu rounded him. The vantage point was low, but Killua was able to see his head and face clearly. Gon was hanging over his shoulder, watching the video with him, and confirmed that the hunter looked no different.

He un-muted the phone and described Illumi and Hisoka to the hunter, along with their powers. Gon seemed to be taking note of what he said, as Killua hadn't gone into detail earlier about them with him 

"What are you thinking so far?" Gon pitched in. He was standing close to Killua now, leaning his bulk into his arm. The man radiated heat in a way that had nothing to do with his Nen aura. His aura, Killua noticed, felt a little heavy against his own, but comfortable. Like a hand on his shoulder when he'd done well or a weighted blanket.

"I'm not sure yet, but if you two can stay on the run, you can buy us some time to figure something out. This number good to get a hold of you two?"

"Yeah," Killua said. "Just call us back here."

The man hung up without another word, and Killua returned the phone to his pocket. It felt a little strange to have someone he wasn't related to at his back, other than Gon. He didn't know how much he trusted the man, but an ally was an ally was an ally, he supposed, and would be needed against Illumi.

He looked at Gon, who was watching him. They could hold fort here or keep running. Killua didn't like the idea. There wasn't anywhere to hide once they reached the desert. They could go further into the city, but he couldn't be sure that Illumi wouldn't be ready to strike when they did. With Gon's en, they were pretty safe here.

"We should stay. It's a good spot."

Gon nodded in agreement, a wide smile on his face. "I think so too."

"The moment you sense anyone close, we bolt."

Gon gave no complaint.

They ended up sitting across from each other on the floor, surrounded by dirt and dust and what was probably, at one time, desks, chairs, and file cabinets.

"You know," Gon said. "When I thought I wanted a moment to talk to you, I didn't mean it like this."

"Yeah.” Killua’s eyes drifted to the windows that lined the room, letting in the cold light from the moon through smudged panes. The room was dark, but not oppressively so. Like a secret shared between friends. “I get that. What did you imagine?"

Gon's face reddened slightly. "You know. Like we'd get coffee or something from a food cart, and we'd be able to get to know each other. In a casual way. Not, you know, like this."

The scene was wistful in his head. Of him and Gon at that café in Padokea he'd thought about before, or the two walking down the streets of Yorknew with some kind of greasy sandwich wrapped in wax paper, laughing at a joke somebody made. Normal. Anything but a pro hunter and a Zoldyck.

"That would've been nice," he said. "If we were anyone else."

Gon frowned. "We can have that as ourselves too, you know."

"I can't," Killua said.

"Why not?"

Killua found himself down a new line of internal interrogation. He found himself wondering if, as he'd been assuming, Gon would be safer existing outside of Zoldyck politics. If he told him everything, Gon may be able to protect himself better than knowing next to nothing, as he did now. It would make things substantially easier for Killua if Gon could protect himself.

"What kind of hunter are you?"

Gon blinked. "Uh, wildlife. Like. I kind of specialize in ecological taxonomy and habitat preservation. But like on land."

It would have been easier if he were a Black List Hunter, but it was what it was.

"Okay, so," he began. "Have you ever heard of the Zoldyck family?"

"Uh. Yeah, I think so."

"I'm one of them."

Gon nodded, though he still looked a bit confused, with a see-through smile plastered on his face. "Right. So. Remind me what that means."

Killua sighed. "It means I've been trained to kill people for literally my entire life, Gon. And so has my brother."

Gon's face seemed to wobble a little. "Okay."

"The head of the family, they don't get to have a soulmate because that kind of attachment makes you soft and unable to fulfill your familial obligations. It makes you worse at killing. Especially when you're still young. My brother thinks that's still true for me."

Gon frowned, but he didn't say anything.

Killua winced at him. "I guess that's not great to hear. But it's the truth. I think I can still kill just fine, having met you, so I don't really know what the big deal was." He shrugged.

"Could you kill me?"

"Would I be trying this hard to save you if I could? I think you're right that it's bullshit, but I have to be... Illumi can have his soulmate, but I have to be better, right. Because one day, when my dad decides I'm ready, I have to be head, and I have to make sure there's still a Zoldyck family even if I don't want to."

Gon frowned. "Do you really have to?"

"So, I've been told."

Gon moved closer to him, grabbing hold of his arms. "Do you want to?"

His eyes were staring into him, burning through his own and casting deep down, as if he could see what desires really laid at the depths of Killua's soul. His eyes were powerful and passionate.

Killua used to think about whether or not he wanted to be the heir, back when he had phases of wanting more than what he was dealt. He used to think that he didn't want to be like his father. At some point, those thoughts of resistance died out, drowned by filial responsibility and years of maturation. But now. Looking at Gon with his eyes full of light and promise, looking at Gon as though he were bringing, for the first time, light into the world of darkness that he'd always known, Killua remembered how to doubt.

He knew he didn't want to. He'd resigned himself to it a long time ago. Resignation felt like choice, after enough time had passed.

"No," he said.

"Then don't."

It wouldn't be that easy, he knew that to the tips of all his fingers. After the time he spent wanting anything other than what he got, it could not be that easy. But getting the affirmation that he could stand his ground, being given a place to stand when he did, it felt like breathing was easier.

Gon told him about his life, his family, what he did as a hunter. He told him why he was in Yorknew (for a job involving a strange mutation occurring in the animals at the local zoo), how bad he felt for leaving his teammates in the lurch. He told Killua about how he'd always been a little worried about meeting his soulmate, and how happy he felt when the words turned black.

Though he wouldn’t admit it, Killua liked the look of Gon's mark. Crass as words were, he liked being able to see that part of him with Gon and know that it had been like that since the other man was born. He showed Gon his own mark, how it was no longer legible. He watched Gon's fingers glide over the darkened skin.

They talked about things, all of the things that Killua had always wanted to talk to his soulmate about. Like what they wanted from each other, and how both of them were secretly wanting something more than just friendship.

It hurt Killua to say it out loud, to confess that his teenage longings still hummed through his veins, but there was no judgement in Gon's eyes, and he found that he hadn’t been expecting any. Those eyes could be soft, tender, like warm hands cradling a fresh bruise.

Gon's hands were warm. They wrapped around his arms and his hands, and he felt his heartbeat in the tiny capillaries in his fingers as they warmed to meet Gon’s temperature, but he didn't pull his hand away.

He didn't pull away.

The connection of their souls would be one in love, and he refused to run away no matter how much the thought scared him. He wasn't sure if he knew what a worthwhile love felt like. He knew Illumi's prickly, oppressive love, his father's cold and distant. His grandfather was warm when it suited him, and his mother was like a boiling sea that he'd been unceremoniously dumped into. He stood in Gon's light and did not feel like he would suffocate. More than anything it made him feel small, and he felt the way he always did when he remembered what the mark on his arm said, like he was undeserving of it.

Gon's hand pulled out of his own. "We need to go."

Killua immediately stood, ears and eyes alert to their surroundings. "How close are they?"

"Close enough."

Lightning shot through his body as he activated Godspeed, stretching a hand out to Gon.

"Come on."

Gon did not hesitate in taking it, but at that moment, the window blasted open as bullets buried into the walls and the ceiling. They both dropped to the floor, covering their heads with a hand while they still cling to each other. The banging sound of gunfire filled the air around them with furious thunder.

"Shit," Killua muttered under his breath just as the bullets stopped.

"You gave me a good chase." Illumi, standing now beside one of the windows, gave them a once over and tilted his head. "I see he's still alive."

"Why the fuck would I kill him?" Killua spat out, shooting his brother a glare. Gon's Nen shrank back to a solid ken shield as they both rose from the floor. Killua noticed his hand pulling out of Gon’s―an instinct more than a conscious action.

"Do you really need me to do it for you? You're not a child anymore."

Killua heard Hisoka's feet land, softly, on the other side of the room. Gon's back hit against his as they kept their eyes on each of the men.

"You're not touching him. Neither of you."

"You don't even know the man."

"Yeah, and when did you decide to keep Hisoka?"

Illumi's eyes darkened. "You know it's different."

"It's not. It's the same goddamn thing. You just don't want to admit that."

Killua felt his back grow cold. He twisted quickly to look back to where he knew Gon was supposed to be, heart freezing as he watched him struggle against the pull of Hisoka's Nen. Gon’s own Nen flared up at the soles of his feet, trying to stick to the friction of the floor. Killua felt his hands contort to claws before he even registered it. He tossed himself to the other side of the room and tapped the sharp tips of his nails against Hisoka's chest, right above his beating heart, before he could think twice.

"Let him go," he demanded, glaring at Hisoka. "Now."

Behind them was a mutter that sounded a bit like a bad video game move and an earth-shaking crack, as a chunk of the wall was blown away onto the ground far below, a few of Illumi's needles with it.

Hisoka's Nen discharged. And when Killua finally looked behind him, he saw Illumi with a needle to Gon's artery. Gon was pitched forward, his fist balled up with a hand on his wrist. His eyes were wide in surprise. He was frozen. Killua couldn't tell if he was thinking.

Killua wasn't. He couldn’t remember when he’d stopped thinking things through. He didn’t know why his brain had decided to turn off now of all times. Because it was Illumi? Because it was Gon?

He crossed the room again just as fast as he had before and brought his hand to his brother's throat. He felt his pulse steady under his skin. The sharp points of his fingers pushed, but he did not break skin.

"Will you kill me as soon as I make my move?" Illumi said, he sounded almost amused in all the ways Illumi could be. "You know you can't do that."

Killua felt something sharp once more against his own neck and ignored it. His head began to hurt, and his heart thudded quickly and relentlessly in his chest. His entire body seemed to pulse. It wasn’t out of tiredness; he didn’t feel tired. But whatever it was, he couldn’t identify it.

"I don't give a shit what I can or can't do. I will end you if you hurt him."

Illumi's eyes fell over his shoulder, no doubt glancing back at Hisoka, before they returned to him. A dark, creeping static overtook his stomach and began to fizzle up his esophagus. Unlike before, he couldn't move now even if he wanted to. The heat that had begun to gather in his limbs drained, replaced by ice.

"You're acting like quite the hero, Killu," Illumi said, his voice dripping with honey-sweet acid. "It would be funny if I thought you actually meant it."

Killua tried very hard not to choke on his own lungs.

"I'll ask you again. Are you going to fight me about this?"

Gon hissed. Blood began to run in a small drop down his neck. Killua watched it.

Outside, the guns began to fire again. This time away from the building. While the sounds were pounding into the night, Killua couldn’t think, least of all answer. He didn’t speak again until they grew quiet once more.

"I'm," Killua said, voice low. "I'm not letting you kill him."

Illumi hummed, considering this. "And how do you plan to do that?"

He didn't know. He didn't have an answer to that.

Killua's mind raced for that very thing as smoke rushed into the room from the stairwell. He felt the pressure on his neck reduce, but he didn't move. Neither did Illumi. Gon's eyes, Killua noticed, brightened again as they turned to the doorway into the room.

The smoke curled around each of them, grabbing hold like hands and hauling them to different corners of the room.

Killua recognized the hunter with the shades when he entered, a giant tobacco pipe sat comfortably on his shoulder. He remembered, now, seeing him before, when he had returned to the Association office, and now realized what it was that had been on his back.

"Well, I guess that was just about as much time as I needed," he said. Senritsu quietly followed him in, her eyes flitting this way and that as she took stock of the situation.

"And you are?" Hisoka asked, his eyes glistening with excitement.

The hunter gave the man a once over before answering. "Reinforcements."

Illumi shot Killua a bored look. "You really asked for help, did you?"

"You know as well as I do that I can't beat you."

Something close to glee curled on Illumi's face. "Good. Yet you still tried something underhanded."

"Isn't that what you did? You gave yourself time to get in here by distracting us. You're just a shitty as I am."

The smoke slithered, and Killua felt it loosening around him. His feet once again touched the floor, and he glanced back to check on Gon, who was also now free. Illumi and Hisoka, on the other hand, we're still caught.

"So, what now?"

Illumi looked as far as he could behind him, toward the window. "I'm awaiting my own reinforcement."

And he had the nerve to criticize Killua for it. He shook his head and returned to Gon, making sure his fingers had returned back to dull nails when he reached out to the small cut on Gon's throat. He checked if he was okay and didn't leave his side.

The needle had left a short scratch, but it wasn't shallow. It was deep, not enough to actually puncture the artery, but enough to make a point.

Killua touched the pads of his fingers to it, focusing on Gon's neck.

"How long will the smoke hold?" Gon was asking.

The hunter took a measured breath. "Long enough to get you two out of here, I'd say."

A shrill, muffled ring filled the air, and Killua looked over at Illumi, who didn't seem surprised.

"Who's calling you?" Killua asked him, feeling lightning beginning to itch under his skin. The possibilities were limited, but they still rocked him to his bones.

"Like I said. Reinforcements."

Killua's chest burned. "Who did you call?"

Illumi's head tilted from side to side, dismissively, and he looked instead at Hisoka.

"What do you think after we're done here? Dinner?"

The air felt heavy. At least until he felt a hand rest on his shoulder, and he remembered that it wasn't just him against the two of them. Gon was here. He wasn't used to being comforted like this. He couldn't remember the last time he was, and while he understood that his connection to Gon permeated parts of him that he hadn't been able to reach in a long time, it felt ludicrous to him that a simple hand on his shoulder could undo the spiraling weight on his head. And yet.

"Did you see anyone outside, Morel?" Gon asked, and Morel shook his head.

"Apart from the, uh, needle-men I assume, not a soul."

Killua looked to Gon. "Put en back up."

Gon did so. They waited a moment, and he shook his head. "Nobody but us here." Killua sighed in relief.

"Then we'll head somewhere with a little more security," Morel said.

"That probably won't help," Killua said. "But it is away from here." Which they would need to be, and soon. Killua wouldn't be able to Godspeed them away, not with Morel and Senritsu in tow, but as long as they were moving, he didn’t have a problem.

Morel cast one last look at Illumi and Hisoka before the group left the room. Killua stuck next to Gon, following Morel and Senritsu down the stairs to the front of the building.

It wasn't a long way down, but it wasn't fast. The stairs and the sounds of the hunters' shoes clunking against them felt like it lasted for ten minutes, but they made it out the front doors and past the maybe-unconscious-maybe-dead needle-men to a car Morel had waiting outside. As Killua stayed close to Gon, Gon stayed close to him, and the two piled into the back seat of the car.

"I got word from the Association chairman," Morel said from the driver's seat as he started up the car and started off toward the city's epicenter where the branch office was. It was a more direct route than the one Killua had taken Gon to escape. "He heard that Mic died, and you were AWOL, so I caught him up with what I knew about the situation."

"And?" Gon prodded.

"It sounded like he was already boarding an airship to me." Morel flashed them a grim smile through the rearview mirror.

"Well." The tension in Gon's body eased, and Killua felt him lean against him a bit. "That makes things easier. How long would it take to leave Yorknew?"

Killua looked at him. "They'd still be able to track us."

"Just entertain me. How long?"

"Considering that the manipulator made it sound like whoever they called was already in the city," Morel said. "Probably not enough time for whatever you're planning."

Gon frowned in thought. Killua could almost hear the gears turning in his head.

"So, leaving the city out of the equation," Killua piped in, "where are you taking us now?"

"The branch office."

"That's what I thought, and probably what they'll be thinking too."

Morel looked at him, quiet for a moment. "We'll move you when we have to, but as far as I know, you'll be safest with other hunters."

Killua wasn't convinced, but Gon nodded. That much was almost enough for him, and Killua knew he could grab Gon and run if he needed to. He felt his power crackle under his skin, ready at any moment.

They pulled up in front of the Hunter Association branch office without much ado and were met with a stern-faced man in a blue suit and a manilla envelope in his hand. He waved it in the air, whether to get their attention or to express irritation, Killua couldn't tell.

That supposed irritation faded a little when Gon got out of the car, and the man ruffled his hair before turning to Morel. Killua watched them as he rounded the car himself. Gon was looking back at him and beckoning him closer, a hand held out. His fingers were spread out, and as the morning sun cracked between the leviathan buildings of Yorknew, it shined on him like a spotlight, making him glow with its warm, golden light.

Killua, with his hands shoved in his pockets, came to Gon's side. The man's hand was still in his hair.

"As I'm sure you're so concerned with," the man said, though the volume of his voice really strained the limits of the word, while pushing the envelope at Morel. "Here's all my paperwork. Now, what has been going on?"

Between them, Morel and Gon tried to simplify the situation as best they could as they entered the branch office. Killua would have liked to trail behind, but Gon had grabbed his hand, pulling it from his pocket, and did not let him go. Killua, for his part, was holding right back. There was safety in having someone to cling to, he discovered. There was a childlike joy to it. Gon's hands were warm where Killua's were cold, thick where Killua's were thin, short where Killua’s were long. They were both callused, battered, and scarred, but it was more whole than a hand that was smooth.

Killua was quiet as they walked down the halls of the office. The ceilings were high, the halls were wide, and everything was well-lit, even so early in the morning. They went to a room off to the side, that Killua vaguely registered was a meeting room, and filed in, standing around a big white table.

"Well, shit," the man said, as he collapsed into one of the chairs. It spun slightly as he landed, and he turned back to face them. "Do we know who else is coming?"

Killua squeezed Gon's hand before he answered. "My father or grandfather, I'd imagine."

"Is that bad?"

"For us? Probably." Killua was quiet a moment. "I can talk to them, at least. They're more reasonable than my brother."

Gon shot him a questioning look.

"I've proven myself to them in a way I can't with my brother, I think," he explained. "I've gotten my way with dad before." He didn't say that the way he had gotten with his dad had nothing to do with whether or not he'd kill someone and more to do with how they handled his training, but it felt like a solid enough leap.

"And you're sure it'd be one of them?" Morel asked.

Killua nodded. Illumi wouldn't have called on their mother. Milluki wasn't much of an issue to Killua, nor would he have left the house for this. Kalluto looked up to him too much to be a threat. No, it had to be Silva or Zeno.

"The chairman's heading down here, isn't he?" Gon asked.

Morel and the blue-suited hunter exchanged glances. "It's up to him if he gets involved in this, though."

"I know, but if we can convince him to stick around a bit after Leorio finishes up the report, then maybe he can help us get them to leave me alone." Gon's hand tightened around Killua's. "The chairman likes me. He'll give us an ear if he can spare it."

The Hunter Association office was startling. After six o'clock struck, regular people started coming into work and going about their days. The hunters—Morel, Senritsu, Leorio, and a late arrival called Vince—let their Nen sit in a natural ten which made Killua feel more natural having his own do the same.

He and Gon had sequestered into a break room—with its odd couch, tall metal tables, microwave, and vending machines—away from the bustle of regular life. Gon kept his hand on Killua, letting it wander from a tight grasp of the other's hand to a gentle sit on his arm or knee. It migrated like that while they sat in silence, waiting for word that either a member of the Zoldyck family had again sniffed them out, or that the Association chairman had arrived from headquarters.

As nervous as Killua was about the situation, he felt better that Gon was with him. He hated that it took so little, almost cursing their bond as soulmates. What then, he found himself wondering, could have brought Gon to him if they hadn't been? There would have been no reason to notice the other, except for maybe Killua's sketchy behavior that could have easily been brushed off.

He leaned his forehead on Gon's shoulder, feeling the warm blanket of the other man's Nen.

"You kids good?" Killua wasn't looking to see who spoke, but he felt Gon nod.

"Yeah. It's just been a lot," Gon replied. "Sorry for leaving you with the work, Leorio."

He pulled up one of the chairs; Killua heard it scrape against the linoleum floors.

"Don't sweat it," Leorio said. "It was my stuff left anyway. I wouldn't think you know too much about dissection."

Gon shook his head. His hand started to trail in circles on Killua's leg. The touch was like water, like a sun shower, a soft drizzle of rain splashing against him.

"Yeah, so I don't mind. I'm just glad you're okay. Been a busy night, huh?"

It had only been a night. That didn't seem right. It felt much more than that. Killua wondered if the whole soulmate bond thing was fucking with his head in new, unpredictable ways.

"Yeah," Gon said. "Not all bad though." Gon's dull nails scratched softly against Killua's pants, and Killua finally pulled away, leaving a hand on where he'd rested.

"And you're both good?" Leorio was now looking at Killua, directing the question to him.

"As we can be," he answered. He didn't like being trapped in another waiting game—either for the chairman or for his father.

Gon squeezed his knee, and it felt nice. Still like that gentle dripping of rain. He felt like he had been on fire, and now he was just charcoal and smoke. Or maybe, the core of his being becoming a tranquil pool under Gon’s careful touch. He still didn’t know how he felt about that. On one hand, it was a nice state to be in―either as a pool or as charcoal. On the other, he absolutely hated how much sway Gon had on him. Was it Killua himself letting this happen, he wondered, or was it something to do with soulmates? Was this calm vulnerability the real reason his family systematically killed the mate of the heir?

Most of all, Killua wanted to know if he was okay with it.

Leorio got up from the couch and crossed the room, popping a couple of coins into the vending machine and returning with a couple cans of juice.

"Not much," he said, steady eyes looking over them. "But here's breakfast. It's not a great breakfast, but I'm also not a dietician. Just drink the juice. It'll help; you two seem tired."

They accepted them, Gon with a small thanks. Leorio looked at them, something sad darting across his eyes, before he left them alone in the room. It was a mango juice, slightly fizzy. It was okay enough for what it was, tasting a little too much like the aluminum of the can to be mango.

Gon was frowning at his own, which had an image of a pear on it.

"Anything on your mind?" Killua asked him.

"I think I'm getting really tired of fearing for my life." Gon said before taking another drink of his juice. He winced. "I'm not going to abandon you, and I don't want you to regret any of this or think I do. But. It's exhausting."

Killua nodded. "And we stayed up all night."

"And that. Could we sleep here? Morel, Leorio, Senritsu... Anyone here really, they wouldn't let anything happen to us. And I could maintain en in my sleep if it'll make you feel better."

Killua considered it, before grabbing Gon's hand again, the one that was on his knee.

"Yeah. Yeah, we should get some sleep."

The chairman arrived at sunset. The sun burned red and orange on the horizon of the city while the hunters and Killua met him at the roof. Killua kept his gaze beyond them, at Yorknew and the sky above it, looking for any trace of his family. He hadn't seen anything yet, but that didn't mean they wouldn't show.

"Well," the chairman of the Hunter Association said as he walked down the stairs leading up to his airship. "Why don't we start with how the job I sent you all here on went?"

Leorio spoke up first, with the envelope he had shown to Morel earlier in hand and gave it to the chairman. The chairman took it and tucked it under his arm. Leorio droned about his findings during the dissection and how this matched up with what they suspected from their initial investigation. Killua followed about half of it, based on what Gon had told him of the job before.

"Senritsu and I are drafting up ways the zoo can handle this," he was saying. "We want to give them a list of precautions to avoid anything like this in the future, since the dissection confirmed Gon's thoughts that the mutations weren't natural and were harmful to the animals."

The chairman hummed and nodded. His eyes scanned over the group gathered.

"Right. And we haven't had any more casualties on this job?"

The hunters confirmed that there weren't.

"Then we can focus on the other matter," the chairman said before walking over to Killua. He stuck out a hand in greeting. Killua followed suit, though a bit confused.

"So you're the reason our Gon's been hunted like a dog," the old man said cheerfully, and Gon quickly joined them at Killua's side.

"Ah! Mr. Netero, please don't say it like that."

Killua, for his own part, was stunned by the man's straightforwardness. "Uh," he managed at first. "Yeah. I am."

The chairman smiled at him.

"Sorry about that," Killua finished, and received a jovial slap on the shoulder.

"Don't get so defensive," he said. "I'm assuming this has to do with that dumb little rule."

Killua blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"Yes, yes." The chairman waved a hand. "Something, something, the preservation of the Zoldyck family. Absolute drivel, all that. So, who are we waiting for then?"

Killua couldn't find any words to say. Beside him, Gon was looking at the chairman with wide eyes.

"Wait, you know who he is?"

The chairman nodded. "The Association has always had a close relationship with the Zoldyck family. But that's not anything you need to know. You haven't even made your star yet, Gon." His attention shifted back to Killua.

"Right." He still felt a bit stunned. He knew, logically, that nearly all of his family members had Hunter licenses for some reason or another, but it was quite a different creature for the chairman of said organization to walk up to him happily and proclaim it without hesitation. "Either my dad or grandpa. We don't know yet."

The chairman nodded behind Killua.

"I think we do."

With a muttered curse, Killua looked behind him, where Silva was standing by the roof access. It was testament to his father’s ability as an assassin if anything, that even while Killua was on alert for people, he’d still managed to slip behind him and leave behind no trace of how he’d gotten there. Killua wondered absently if he’d climbed the building.

The Zoldyck patriarch looked over the situation and strode forward to join the group.

"Nice to see you again, Isaac," he said pleasantly. Killua took a step back as his father and the Association chairman shook hands.

"Pleasure's mine, Silva. Now, I was hoping we could talk about this little issue concerning your family law." The chairman nodded at where Gon and Killua were standing.

Silva glanced over at them. "I'll consider, but I can't promise anything yet."

"Great. Let's go downstairs and have some tea."

The three of them gathered in a meeting room. Leorio, Morel, and Senritsu were waiting outside the room, in case something happened that would require their intervention. Gon told Killua that she would be able to hear what was going on anyway.

The chairman, Netero, got an assistant to bring them tea, and after around fifteen minutes of waiting in awkward silence for it to arrive, they each had a cup set in front of them. Killua had sat across from Silva at the table, with Gon next to him, and the chairman taking the head.

"Illumi told me I'd have to change your mind," Silva said, firstly. "He said you were attached, more than you should be."

"Maybe," Killua replied. "I've started thinking it's not a problem." He’d started thinking a lot of things. While he disliked the sway the connection had over him, he liked Gon. A lot. Gon filled in for all of the places Killua felt the connection forced.

And he’d been thinking about some of the things he’d talked about with Gon, like the family and how, maybe, they could, one day, go out and eat something and be people together.

"Why's that?"

"Think of it like this, Illumi still kills with no problem, so we can say that it's not because you think it'll make me weak. And... Father, you said that I should be allowed to do what I want, right?"

Silva frowned but nodded.

"Even if that means I don't want to be the heir?"

"That's not your decision, Killua."

"No, but isn't Illumi a better choice? He's stronger than me. He's the eldest. He trained me. Why shouldn't he be the head?"

Silva took a measured breath, looking more like a father in that moment than in the eighteen years Killua had been his son.

"When you told Illumi you didn't want to kill your soulmate, how did he respond?"

"Well, I don't think I actually said it like that at first,” Killua answered, frowning as he remembered the moment. Neither of them had actually said the words out loud, but Killua had, whether or not he had meant it like that, said it. Illumi, on the other hand… “He took it as a challenge."

"And do you think either of you were wrong?"

Killua hesitated, truly thinking over the words. "No. I don't think either of us were." Yes, he was mad at Illumi for hurting Gon, even if it were simply a small scratch, but he knew Illumi thought he had his best interests in mind. He couldn't hold it against him.

"Illumi would think you were. He doesn't look past the way things work and doesn't allow for nuance in others. Illumi is an asset to the family, yes, but he's doesn't have what we need in a leader."

He frowned. "Why can't it be my decision whether or not I'm your heir? It involves me too."

"I suppose that's true," Silva allowed. "You don't want to."

"I don't."

"What would you do instead?"

His throat clamped down on his answer. He knew, somewhat, what he wanted to do. There was no definite picture, but over time, given more time to think, he could probably come up with something.

"I'd..." Killua started. He reached over and took Gon's hand. "Honestly, I'd stay with him."

Silva looked between the two of them; his eyes betrayed nothing. He was quiet for a few moments. Netero calmly drank his tea, watching over the proceedings, utterly relaxed.

"Okay," Silva finally said, standing. "It's your choice."

It shouldn't be that easy, Killua found himself thinking. His thoughts echoing ones he'd had last night. It couldn't be that easy.

"That's it?" He asked his father, bewildered.

"You're an adult," Silva said. "I trust that you can make decisions you're not going to regret."

He could almost hear the fine print bleeding through his father's words. That if he ever did regret this choice, the estate would be waiting for him. Releasing Gon's hand, Killua stood.

"I'll see you out then."

Gon closed and locked the door behind them as they entered the room of the hotel he'd gotten for the duration of his mission. He had it for another three days, which they were both thankful for. Gon had said, collapsed against Killua in the taxi over, that he'd gladly sleep every one of those days.

Killua felt much the same, as the stress of the past few days and the weight of his whole existence melted off of him, and he finally found himself as just a man without much expectation of anything else. He looked at Gon, who had went over to a suitcase and pulled out some clothes.

"You can borrow my pajamas if you want," Gon said, looking up at him. His eyes were tired but happy. So damn happy.

"Yeah," Killua said, jolting into awareness. "Yeah. Are you... Are you going to take a shower? Can I?"

Gon nodded. "Go ahead. I'll go after you."

Killua gladly took the offered pajamas—pants printed with cartoon dogs and a shirt for a food store Killua wasn't familiar with but was emblazoned with a detailed fish—and retreated into the bathroom where he avoided his reflection in the nearly wall-length mirror. He grabbed one of the hotel's regulation towels and took the quickest shower he could manage while still getting clean.

It took about ten minutes. Killua dried, changed, and finally looked at himself. He really did look tired, with circles under his eyes and skin paler than normal. He was glad he and Gon were able to sleep a little, but that was on a couch in a break room and wasn't as restful as they both had desperately needed.

He managed his hair as best he could without a brush before exiting the bathroom and sitting on the bed. Gon had noticed, silently, and Killua watched as he trudged his way in. The other man seemed nearly asleep on his feet, in a way that would have had Killua laughing if he weren’t in the same shoes.

Killua laid back, putting his head on the pillow and kicked his feet up. He didn't want to crawl under the covers yet, wanting to wait for Gon, but the bed and pillows were soft. The room was only lit by a single lamp, whose yellow light struggled to fill every corner of the room. The steady sound of the water from the shower filled his head, even though it was muffled, and he let his eyes drift closed.

He tucked his arms over his eyes and breathed, feeling almost weightless among the softness and the sound. He felt his lungs collapse and expand; his head spun a little, like it always did when he went without sleep.

He was used to going longer than this. Sometimes he had to, but with the end of the inner mission, Killua had nothing to be on guard for, he had nothing to defend against. Gon was safe in a way that Killua couldn't describe.

He dropped off into sleep for a moment, before Gon joined him in the bed.

He startled only a little and pushed himself up, glancing toward the other.

"I was trying not to disturb you. You looked comfortable." Gon said as he slipped under the blankets. Killua joined him, climbing in as well.

"I was trying to wait until you were done," he said with a slight laugh. "Guess it was too comfortable."

Gon huffed a laugh right back at him, as he reached over and turned off the light. The room now dark, they laid down, facing each other under the covers.

"I've actually never done this," Killua admitted in a mutter. "Slept around anyone else like this."

He felt Gon's hand on his arm. It moved up and down, warming him.

"Every time I have, it's been for a job," Gon said. "First time, I think, was when I passed out during my exam after playing ball with Netero."

"The chairman?"

"Yeah. He was old back then too but fast."

Killua laughed, quiet, letting the atmosphere of the night settle in the air around them. He could nearly make out Gon's silhouette in the dark, outlined by the light of the moon. His hair hung limp and wet around his head, his ear poked out, a stark circle against the dull white of the curtains. He reached out and set his fingertips against the rise of Gon's cheek bones.

The hand on his arm drifted down and rested against his ribs. He was very aware, then, of the breaths he took and the beating of his heart.

"Can I hold you?" Gon muttered. The question waited in the air for a moment. Killua pushed himself forward, moving across the bed and into Gon's space. He moved his hand down, from Gon's cheek, to trail down his artery, and finally rest against where his heart beat. It was quick, he noticed, just as his skin was warm.

Big arms curled around him and held him. A hand tangled into his slowly drying hair, while the other still rested on his ribs.

Killua hadn't felt so safe in his life.

"Goodnight," he whispered.

"Goodnight," Gon answered, and he felt it breeze against his hair.

They slept, tangled up in each other. And when Killua woke up, with his face still pressed against Gon's chest, though now pulled on top of him while he slept on his back, he felt warm, comfortable. Even with Gon's arms still anchored around him, he felt as though his body were floating through the air, resting between two jettisons of wind that kept him floating. It was the best sleep he'd had in years, maybe his whole life.

He woke up first and angled himself off Gon's chest. The man's arms followed him, tangled up in his shirt, and he felt something bubble in his chest as he slowly untangled his fingers and slipped out of the bed. He stumbled his way into the bathroom, fully conscious of the light that pierced into the room behind him.

He didn't have a way to brush his teeth, but Gon brought mouthwash, so he gargled it before running his hands through his hair in an impromptu brush. He was a mess; he still looked like one, but he was less tired now, that much was obvious. His hair was flat against his head on one side and had twisted against the law of gravity for the rest of it. The clothes he'd borrowed from Gon were wrinkled, possibly beyond saving, but he looked good. If he were being honest with himself, he would have said that he almost looked normal.

He looked into his own eyes, clutched a corner of the shirt in his hand as that bubbling erupted into his head and his toes. Killua Zoldyck. Just a normal person. He couldn't believe how happy he felt about that.

When lunch rolled around, he decided, he was going to take Gon to a food truck, and they were going to walk through Yorknew like they were tourists. He smiled at his reflection. It was silly, but it almost meant something.

He went back into the room. Gon was still sleeping and was now hugging a pillow to him. Killua passed him and changed back into his own pants but stealing one of Gon's shirts. This one a plain light blue, but with some very neat stitch work along the hem, collar, and sleeves. He rubbed at some dirt that had stained the knees of his pants, wishing he'd had his own clothes here instead of relying on Gon's. Gon was broader than him, though Killua didn't really mind the way that his shirts fit.

A hum whispered through the air from the bed and as Killua once again tried to tame how his hair was sitting at the back of his head, he looked back and found Gon, flat on his back, awake and looking at the ceiling.

"You okay?" Killua asked him. To which Gon gave a stuttered nod.

"Doing a lot of processing. You?"

Killua shrugged. "I'm feeling pretty good actually." He crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, beside Gon. Gon reached for him, running the flat tips of his fingers against the inside of Killua's arm—his mark, and Killua could see Gon's own.

"Sorry about—" Killua gestured to the mark— "that. I was, uh. I was trying to kill somebody actually."

For a moment, Gon seemed to just be processing the words. "Like when we met?"

"Yeah, I was in the middle of a job. So were you, right?"

Gon nodded.

"Bad timing for both of us."

"Good timing now though."

Killua laughed. "Yeah, I guess. Had to fight for that a bit though."

Gon reached up and pushed at his bangs, not sorting them in any way that Killua found logical, but it still felt good, just to feel the soft touch of another person against his skin, ruffling his hair.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" Gon asked.

"That depends, but sure."

He was still playing with Killua's bangs—his fingertips dancing against the heat of his forehead.

"Did you know you've got, uh, well, a bit of Nen here?"

Killua blinked at him. "I have what?"

"Ah, so you don't." Gon sat up, leaning into him. Killua could see the aura flare up around his eyes.

"There's in, like a lot of it. Whatever it is, it's really supposed to be hidden." The more Gon said, the faster Killua could feel his heart start to beat in his chest. "Should we get rid of it?"

Get rid of it? "Where is it?"

Gon's index finger pressed against his hairline.

"In my head," he muttered. Foreign Nen in his head. "Gon." He didn't know what to say. He felt himself begin to tremble. His heart was pounding as his hand drifted up to meet Gon's. Dread filled his blood.

"Gon," he repeated, and a big, warm hand fell on his shoulder, twisting him so he was now looking Gon in the eye. "Yes. Get rid of it. Please. I don't."

He felt Gon's Nen brush against him, and he immediately shut his own down. Stripped bare of anything from the pressure and warmth of Gon's power. He did not look away from Gon's eyes.

He felt his skin break; the raw fire of Gon's Nen rang through his head so strongly that he felt he innately knew just how much raw power he was able to put into the things he did. His eyes remain fixed, watching the blurred colors of Gon shift as he steadily removed the Nen from Killua's head.

Killua knew he was crying, but he wasn't whimpering. His breathing was better controlled than it had been during any stalking exercise. He cried as if something had torn apart the dam in him that demanded he shouldn't.

When whatever it was had finally been removed, Gon held it out between them, and the light shined against the needle as if Killua's stomach hadn't dropped into his knees at the sight of it.

"Bastard," he whispered. He felt so many emotions all at once—anger at his brother, mourning the time wasted under his control, joy for Gon and being freed of it, panic at whether Illumi may intuitively know. "That asshole."

"How do you feel?"

Gon pressed a tissue against his forehead, crumpled up, to mop up the blood the oozed lazily from the small, deep puncture.

He didn't know what to say, so he shrugged. He grabbed the needle from Gon and, replacing his hand with his own to keep the tissue where it was, he stood from the bed and returned to the bathroom, dropping the needle in the trash bin, and turning away from it.

Now. Now it was time to be normal. Now it was time to exist separately from his family and their heavy name. He could not deny the revenge he wanted to take, but he also could not deny the absolute calmness he now felt in his blood.

"Killua?" Gon asked, hanging on the threshold of the bathroom. He was haloed by the light of day, bleeding into the room past the curtains. Killua couldn't turn his eyes away.

"I'm..." He said. "I'm mad. Mad as hell. But I think I feel better." Gon came forward, slowly, and turned on the tap, grabbing one of the small towels from the countertop and soaking it. He brought the wet towel to Killua's forehead and began wiping away the blood.

"I'm glad you feel better," Gon said, with a small smile. Killua nodded.

"How about you?" He asked. "It's been crazy."

"Yeah," Gon said with a nod. "But despite that, I'm more than excited for what the future holds. Because we fought hard to just be able to breathe, and I think it was worth it."

The radio inside the truck was playing a local station, and as they drifted away from it, the music faded into the squeal of tires and the numerous conversations that clouded the air around them.

They'd gotten crepes; Killua's was high with whip cream and strawberries, a chocolate drizzle wrapped deliciously overtop the fruit, and sprinkled with powdered sugar; Gon's was banana, peanut butter, and chocolate, with nearly as much sugar and cream as Killua's.

They walked, only not holding hands because of the food, and Killua took in the city from the sidewalk. He took a bite and looked up at the skyscrapers, the advertisements that were the size of the side of a building that were for some camera he’d never buy or some kind of makeup product that was too expensive for any lay person. In the light of day, the city was white. He kept close to Gon, not wanting to lose him in the crowd.

Their pace was slow, taking in what they could. Gon was smiling at him, getting cream on his nose with every bite, bringing him to a park deep in the city where they were surrounded by green and trees. He could hear birds singing with all their lungs. They sat on one of the tables and finished their crepes, not yet talking, just watching nature unfold around them and feeling the sun above them. Basking in its light just as they were basking in each other.

It was really something else, Killua decided, having a soulmate when his life wasn't hanging in the balance.

They took each other's hands, palm to palm, and twisted their arms together. Gon's mark faced Killua, Killua's faced the sky. Their hands together, it was a conversation, albeit not the best first impression.

Killua leaned his head on Gon's shoulder and closed his eyes to the singing of the birds.

He felt Gon take a deep breath, felt the rising and falling of his shoulders. He felt the waves of relief and contentment radiate from him as he tilted his chin to the sky.

"Killua," he said. "You know what I just realized."

"What?"

"I want to kiss you really bad right now."

Hiding a grin with a smirk, Killua sat up and squeezed his hand.

"Then do it, coward."

Gon took his face in his hand and leaned in, pressing their mouths together. It was warm, a little rough, but he felt complete and raw and unfinished and holy all at once. For all that they were drawn together, this felt like a sealing, a securing. Their souls shattered and reforged in an instant.

Gon moved back first, his eyes slowly opening. Killua grabbed his collar and pulled him back in, tasting that moment again.

The hand on his face moved to his hair, holding his head close, and their mouths opened slightly, and Killua knew truly what it was to taste, to feel. Time bubbled between them, and infinity tasted like chocolate, banana, strawberry, and whipped cream.