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“Killua, Killua, Killua!” Gon chirps excitedly, peering down at the boy in question. It’s kind of funny, since he’s perched up on a tree branch; you could compare him to a dog pretty easily, but he’s a lot like a bird. Always flitting from place to place, but he still returns back to the nest, back to Whale Island sooner or later.
Killua, on the other hand, is just sitting underneath him on the grass, boredly carving shapes into the dirt and bark at the bottom. He lifts his head just a little to look up at Gon. “Mm?”
“Ki-llu-a,” Gon enunciates.
“Yeah?”
“Killua!”
“What?”
“I really like saying your name,” Gon grins. It’s bright and honest and completely unexpected; Killua squints and looks away and tells himself it's because the sun is shining in his eyes. He’s not technically lying.
“Don’t be weird,” Killua mutters. “It’s just a name.”
“Well yeah, but it’s a pretty name,” Gon hums. “I never get to say it just to say it but I always think so.”
“How can a name be pretty, idiot? It doesn’t look like anything.” Killua can’t look at Gon while he speaks, feeling oddly warm and squeezed all the sudden.
“Things can sound pretty too, I think. Like bird calls and wind chimes. I like saying it. Killua,” Gon says again, as if to prove his point.
“You say it all the time,” Killua points out. “And I say yours too, so. Gon,” he adds, unwilling to be defeated.
Gon hangs down from the tree by his feet, staring at him upside down and destroying any hopes Killua had of avoiding eye contact for this conversation. “I like it when you say my name too! You should say it more often.”
“What, just blurt out Gon, Gon all the time for no reason? That’d be stupid,” Killua scoffs. “It’d get annoying after awhile.”
“Nuh-uh, I wouldn’t be annoyed. Not if it’s you, Killua!”
Killua sometimes feels like he’s getting a sunburn just from the intensity of this boy’s stare. “Well, I’d get annoyed.”
“You would?”
“Yeah,” Killua says, because it’s true, he thinks. Wouldn’t it be annoying for someone to say your name all the time even when they don’t want something? It definitely sounds annoying, but. Gon is frowning, disappointment plain on his face and it’s almost scary how quickly Killua reconsiders. “...Eventually, I guess.”
“Eventually?” Gon chirps, brightening up. “So, is it okay if I say your name until it gets annoying?”
“Geez, you’re so blunt. You don’t care if you do it right up to that point, huh?”
“But up until that point it wouldn’t be annoying, right? And I want to, so.”
As if that settles the whole thing; Killua laughs, easy and light. “Okay, whatever. Say it if you want to.”
“I will! Killua,” Gon grins. “Ki-llu-a.”
“Now you’re just being cheeky.”
“Really, Killua? Well, if Killua thinks so, Killua must be right, huh, Killu—”
Killua groans and pokes him in the forehead with a twig, though in truth Gon was probably right. It does sound nice, having your name said by someone else, weird as it is. But then Gon retaliates by letting himself fall out of the tree, landing on Killua and forcing the air out of him with an oof that signals the start of their tussling, the two of them rolling around on the grass and mock-fighting.
The whole time, Gon is giggling and repeating “Killua, Killua, Killua” until Killua starts joining in, “Gon, Gon, Gon” back and forth like children and it strikes him in the middle of it all that they are, huh?
They really are just children.
Well, he'll be a teenager this year, technically, and he hasn’t asked when Gon’s birthday is— he should ask, probably, he doesn’t want to miss it. Still, it’s the most childish he’s ever felt. More and more often, with Gon, he remembers what he really is. Sometimes he still feels like he’s being childish, ridiculous, but Gon reminds him that they are children, and Gon is ridiculous enough to make Killua feel normal in comparison no matter what they do.
He’s not any less of an assassin. His killcount won’t go down, and he won’t forget what his hands look like covered in blood. He might have to kill again, too, or he might get swept up in the moment and end up killing anyway. He knows that, but so does Gon, and Gon has never shied away from any of it. Even sweet, docile Aunt Mito referred to his claws as just a scratch. He can’t be any less than what he is, but… he kinda feels like he can be more.
They end up grass-stained and out of breath by the time they collapse, but that’s mostly just from the laughter; there might have been some tickling thrown in there too, on Killua’s part, but it’s Gon’s fault for being so ticklish.
“Killua,” Gon says again, but the tone is different, satisfied. He’s ended up with his head on Killua’s stomach, legs stretched out on the grass and eyes slipped closed even though he’s still smiling.
In a little bit they should probably get moving, head back before Aunt Mito complains about them being late for dinner, but Gon seems content to lay on top of him and Killua doesn’t feel much like getting up either. The grass is soft underneath him and Gon is warm against him and he’s content, he thinks. It’s a new feeling.
“Killua.”
The name sounds sleepier this time, Gon’s smile morphing into a yawn. “Killuuua…”
Killua isn’t annoyed by it yet, if he’s honest. It’s hard to be even a little bit bothered when the name sounds different every time. “Gon,” he murmurs back.
“Yeah, like that,” Gon hums, sleepy smile settling back like it belongs there. “You know, no one else says my name like you do, Killua.”
“You pay attention to the way everyone says your name? Weirdo. That’s kinda egotistical too…”
“It’s not!” Gon whines, opening his eyes just to add emphasis to his pout. “It’s really interesting! Coz Kurapika and Leorio, they didn’t say it the same. You kinda say it like Aunt Mito does.”
Killua lets his own eyes slip closed; it’s dangerous and stupid to relax in open territory, he was always taught that, but this place is the closest he’s ever felt to safe. He could fall asleep right now in these woods and not regret it. “What, I sound like a girl?” Killua scoffs. “You wanna fight again?”
“Maybe, it’d be fun to spar!” Gon grins. “But no, Killua sounds like Killua. And Killua, you say my name like you love me.”
Strike when your opponent’s guard is down, huh?
Killua barely stops his breath from leaving in a pained wheeze as his eyes snap back open. As it is, he tenses without meaning to, and Gon surely notices. Of course he can say something like that without flinching. And Killua knows he means it, even as denials and scolding remarks bubble up in his throat, because while Gon sometimes goes back on his word or hides things if he thinks he has to, he doesn’t lie.
Neither of them have had a friend before, but it doesn’t take a genius to realize saying you’re wrong would hurt Gon’s feelings. He’s trapped.
“...Shut up,” is all Killua manages. It falls short as a biting remark, and he can’t quite manage eye contact, looking anywhere that isn’t Gon. Love? It’s a concept so ridiculous he doesn’t even know where to start. He’s not sure he’s ever loved anyone; not even his parents, not really. Their family doesn’t work like that, with concepts like this.
Gon, though. Aunt Mito. Everyone here. This sleepy, cozy little village that hurts, somehow, even though everyone is so kind. This is the kind of place that runs only on love and Killua doesn’t know if he can work like that, if he can belong with someone like that. If he’s allowed to.
“Hey, Killua.”
“What d’you want now?”
“You’re coming, right? With me?”
“I already said so, didn’t I?”
“I’m really glad,” Gon laughs, words slurring into each other. “Coz, I say Killua’s name the same way, y’know.”
Killua doesn’t breathe, not for awhile. The words hang in the air and it’s like he’s forgotten his own language. It’s not what he’d expect from Gon and somehow it’s also exactly what he’d expect.
When he finally remembers to inhale, when he looks back down again with wide eyes, Gon is already asleep, contentment on his face, like it’s that simple.
Maybe it is.
“...Shut up, Gon,” Killua mumbles again to the clear sky, feeling the blush burn his cheeks as he lets his fingers brush against the boy’s soft black hair.
Even in the quiet, it still sounds like he’s saying I love you.