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“Killua?” Gon rubs soothing circles in the space between Killua’s shoulder blades as he continues to wheeze. “Are you alright?”
“I—I’m f-fine. I’m just…” Watery, blue eyes turn to Gon. “What did you just say?”
“I asked if you were alright.”
“Be—” cough, “—Before that.”
“Oh. I said ‘Killua, let’s get married’.”
Killua stares at him. Gon stares back. He stares at pale skin blushing pink, at white eyelashes that flutter with every blink, at soft lips faintly stained with too-sweet chocolate—
“Gon,” Killua rasps, forcing Gon to focus back to the matter at hand. “We started dating a month ago.”
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