~♡Gonkillu Oneshots♡~

Shake

Im gonna fucking kms take another guess.
Trigger fucking warning.

There's a shake in the way he stands and the way he sits. There's a shake in his voice when he speaks, a shake in the way he holds the gaze of another. The shake never stops.

Sitting in a group of four and never feeling more fucking alone is none other than the disappoint of the Zoldyck family. He stares at his phone, at nothing and everything as he scrolls through his apps frantically. His leg bounces rather aggressively, and rock blasts in his headphones. Like if he stops moving he'll disappear completely. Like if he hears the sounds of his professor or the students for even a single second he'll fuck everything up and scream and cry on the spot.

It's another long 31 minutes left of this sick feeling. Then he's finally fucking free of school and he can run his way to home. Though that place isn't any better.

But right now everything feels like too much. It's hard to breathe and he's scared that if he does breathe he's breathing too loud. The people around him, though he considers them friends, are making him anxious. They're minding their own businesses as he suffers in his loud and overwhelming state of mind. Suicidal rock playlists are the only thing keeping him from snapping. The scream of guitars, the cracky shouts of different bands and the crashes of drums.

Killua's tried to text a trusted friend. Tried to reach out and say how shitty he's feeling and how his throat is tightening and the corners of his eyes are beginning to feel wet, but no. They're busy. Indulging in a conversation he has no part in. He deletes the text.

There's nothing but the urge to cry now. He doesn't like to ask for help. So he sits. He sits and he sits and he shakes and he shakes, staring down the time on his phone and doing absolutely nothing with the smaoo device rather than using it as an excuse to not participate in socialization and classwork.

Thank god last period is a chill elective class. Otherwise he'd be slouched on his desk and staining the fake wood with silent tears and strangled breaths. Killua couldn't stop the shake of his leg, of his hands, of his eyes. He can see the laughter and smiles of the three around him and it makes him sick. He feels sick. He's going to be absolutely sick.

25 more minutes.

Killua just needs to make it through his last class without breaking the fuck down. Sure, he can do that. He can manage. Easy. He's done it before. For longer periods of time. Easy. Easy, easy, easy.

He's going to puke his guts out.

The only thing Killua's had to eat is a chocolate chip cookie that his crush, Gon, bought for him. He can feel that emptiness in his stomach. He's so hungry that it's making the sickness worse. But he's so nauseous that he definitely won't manage a single meal when he gets home. Killua tends to starve. It's not even intentional sometimes. School lunch is just total crap, and his "home" didn't supply much. The perks of being the family disappointment; Being effortlessly skinny.

Killua glances up at the time on his phone, glances around the classroom with anxiety before returning those blue eyes down to his cracked screen again. How the screen ever cracked in the first place, Killua can't remember. He didn't drop it, didn't set it down too hard; it just happened. However the fuck that works.

21 minutes left.

God, that feeling in his stomach worsens by the second. Every time he checks how much longer he needs to deal is an increase to the shake. His knee bounces harder. His hands tap more aggressively on the poor, defenseless phone. If only the max volume for these shitty headphones could be higher. The music isn't loud enough. Glimpses of conversation sneak their way into his ears and it makes him clench his teeth.