Melancholic

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GON WILL ALWAYS SAVE KI SLAMS HANDS DOWN ON TABLE

I JUST AHHHHHHHHHH POOR KI

KI IS JUST A TINY BABEY AND THE WORLD WAS SO MEAN TO HIMI JUST LOVE THE IDEA OF KI JUST WHISPERING FOR HELP BUT GON WOULD HEAR OKAY OKAY💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓Canon? Throws it out a window I am an emotional baby but I started crying writing this cuz poor Ki my heart

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Gon's an idiot and a weirdo, Killua's decided.

He's weird. Killua can't figure him out. He still doesn't know why any of them had come. But it made him feel happy. He thought he was just gonna be stuck in that house forever. Again. And this time, it would be permanent.

Gon's a weirdo. What kinda person goes to an assassin's house? Gon's an idiot. He always got this fire in his eye when fighting, like he enjoyed it. For Killua. Fighting is just a necessity. Training too. It's always been...

A necessity. That he once dreaded. But it's sort of fun with Gon.

Sometimes he still feels like he's three, crouched down in the corner of his room with the thin blanket over his head and blood caked against his skin, blending with the bruises, shaking, terrified.

Sometimes he still feels that way. This bed is way too big, and the room is too quiet...

It feels like the whole illusion will just break. It's not real. Why would anyone want to save him? Be friends with him? Just that heavy weight of waiting. He only cries when he thinks no one will see. Clutching the red velvet fabric up to his chest, staring out the window at the full, bright moon. He doesn't want to sleep.

He grabs one of the pillows, letting his feet hit the edge of the bed, jumping down.

Killua can go nights without sleeping, but sometimes he can just feel the heavy strain, and he just doesn't want it anymore. He doesn't want any of it! The pain. The anxiety that wells up in his chest. He just wants to be a normal kid. He's sick of it!

But they wouldn't go a day without reminding him. Looking at him, disappointed when he'd rather play than train. He can easily slot his fingers against the rough, uneven, deep cuts in his skin or the small circles from Milluki's cigarettes.

Everyday.

Until...

Gon.

That was the most fun he had. Free from the watch of everyone. Even with the annoying old man yelling at him. He thought he was free, at least...

But he couldn't escape it even if he wanted to. So now. He's just scared. Of it ending.

He sinks down to the floor, hugging the pillow like a lifeline. He was going to go throw it at Gon and ask, 'Yo, Gon! Wanna train?' he wanted the distraction, but... he can't go now.

He can feel the cold brush of his brother's fingers against his shoulder now, making him slump over onto the floor, closing his eyes and trying to keep a natural breathing rhythm, tears warm on his cheeks.

'Kil.'

No! He hates it all! Even back then, when he was so young, he knew what each cold tone of voice meant, and he hated it. He'd press his face into Mike's fur, begging every god up there. He hates electricity training! No! He hates it!

But he'd have to go.

And then he'd go back and try and not sob; he learned from an early age how to weep quietly; it hurt so much. Even throwing the big stick for Mike to fetch.