Chapter Text
Killua spotted the spiky haired man in the doorway of the station hall. Rain dribbled down the windows, pit-pattering on the cracked concrete outside. Well, his hair wasn’t necessarily “spiky” anymore. The rain had flattened it significantly. It reminded him of when they were kids.
He used to beg him to let his hair down, but of course he would always deflect it by saying it was in style. (Which to be fair in the early 2000’s it was– unfortunately– cool). Gon was always the type of person to find something then stick with it as long as possible.
His long black hair always looked so.. Majestic when it wasn’t styled. It made him feel like he could run an ultra marathon twice just thinking about it.
He snapped out of his thought as he caught him walking closer out of the corner of his eye, heart skipping a beat when he sat in the crusty bench seat next to him, shoulder brushing against his own.
I’ll kill you, God, you son of a bitch.
“He should be here any minute now,” Gon whispered casually next to him.
His voice had changed a lot over the years, it was deeper and a little gravely, his slight accent still noticeable as he rolled his Rs. However, it never lost its bright tone, that happy-fun-loving pep.
Being near Gon brought back feelings in his life. Well, he had feelings but he was feeling… other stuff now. His heart would flip flop whenever Gon flicked his hair away from his eyes the rest of the day. The chill outside with the rain made his crooked nose twitch when he sniffed and it made him want to jump out a tenth story window. Even the way he would look at him, he could see it out of the corner of his eye, how the mask of his disinterest fell when he would glance at him. His gaze would soften ever so slightly, those wide eyes turning gentle.
God he wanted to forgive him. He did, truly. But he knew he wasn’t sorry, Gon pitied him. Pity was the only emotion he could think of that would make his look at him like that. He wasn’t good enough, he trusted too much and Gon knew it too damn well.
The job was over, they were already on their way back to the hotel, his blood stained hands caressing his phone as he pretended to text Alluka. His eyes were really on Gon, sitting in their train booth with his feet kicked up on the empty seat next to him, dozing off.
It was dark, nearly ten P.M. and the rational side of his brain concluded he needed some rest, and while the irrational side of his brain agreed, it also suggested that he join a certain someone.
He could imagine it clearly, getting up and laying beside his ex- best friend, feeling his warm chest pushed against his back, how in his sleep deprived state he would wrap an arm around him gently. Maybe his fingers would caress his cheek like he did two nights ago, his spare hand resting on his hip… maybe his thigh… or maybe even…
That was it for him, he couldn’t help it. Being near the twit had done something to him and he couldn’t tell if he liked it or not. That giddy bubbling sensation rose in his chest whenever he glanced at him, talked to him, smelt his cologne.
Fuck his stupid horny brain.
He looked around the train cart, not a single other person around other than him and his partner. His partner.
After he double checked that Gon was asleep, his breathing slow and heavy, he reached his hand down to the front of his pants. His bulge had tented in his jeans, hot and sensitive to his touch.
He sighed in relief and pleasure when he cupped it in his palm, gently rubbing it through his trousers. His eyes were on Gon, still, watching as he slept. A part of him knew he was so terribly wrong for doing this, watching him without knowing– while touching himself even.
But he didn’t stop, it felt too good to stop now. He hated him– oh he hated him, but he loved him too. And fuck did he love him. He caught him whimpering and groaning in his sleep every now and then, only fulfilling his fantasies further. He rubbed harder, faster, knowing he was going to be sore with the memory of it all later, but that didn’t matter.
Gon whined quietly, “ Ngh– mm…” and it was all over for him.
He came with a yelp, clutching on dearly to his chair and dick, waves of relief passing through him like a hurricane.
Gon shot up with the noise, quickly rubbing the sleep from his eyes, “Huh– Are you okay? Wha– What happened?” his big brown eyes rested their gaze on Killua, hand still holding to his now deflated bulge for dear life.
He tried to move, he did. But in that split second he realized the mess he made all over the front of his pants. It would be embarrassing either way, but he decided that Gon didn’t need to see the evidence.
“Uh–”
“I need to pee! Yeah– I’ll be right back!” he lied, jumping up from his seat and rushing to the door at the end of the carriage, ripping his sweatshirt off to tie around his waist.
Once he made it to the bathroom, he pulled down his jeans and briefs to assess the damage.
He ended up with two options: either he kept the shirt tied around his waist on and gaslight the ever-loving shit out of Gon, or, kill himself.