Disclaimer: HunterxHunter and all associated characters are property of Yoshihiro Togashi.

Warnings: nothing except this may be vaguely confusing (although I hope you guys get it D:)

Implied Killua/Gon, although this can be interpreted as friendship if you wish.

His eyes were clouded with tears that he had yet to shed, face set and determined. It suited him…I thought. He always had that unrelenting fire in his spirit, which he would never give up, no matter what. The boy could be about to die, with the enemy's knife at his throat ready to kill, and he still would believe that he would win…that he WOULD win, and that surely, SURELY there was a perfectly good reason that the person trying to brutally murder him was trying to brutally murder him. He always saw the best in people, all people….even me. Even when he didn't have a REASON to see the good in a person, even if the person had no good in them…

And then he realized that there were people who were evil because that's who they were, that there really WAS no good in them. But he still preferred to see the world his way. I guess that's why I liked him so much. ..The way he chose to see the world. I could never see the world in such light. My world was consistently covered in shadow, and no matter how hard I tried not to I would always treat everyone (except him, of course) as though they were about to try to kill me. I couldn't help it, that's how I was raised. And those habits die hard…very, very hard. I liked to believe I was getting better though, that with my dark paired with his light that maybe, MAYBE, we balanced each other out and that as long as I was with him I would be OK…that I could redeem myself.

But then, I left. I didn't want to leave, but it wasn't hard. That's what makes me hate myself…the fact that after all we've been through and all he's done for me that I still could just leave so easily. It should have been harder, I should have tried to resist it...I didn't HAVE to leave him, after all. I even had a perfectly justifiable reason not to leave; I could have explained why I didn't leave. I could've said that another promise I had made cancelled out the promise that I'd leave him, and I made that one first…I don't even think that when she made me promise to leave him that she meant it…I think she was just using it as extra motivation so I wouldn't fail. Even so…I left him….I left him so easily.

Honestly, I was lost without him. I ran, but I didn't know where to go. I skipped from town to town for about a month before I decided to go home. Maybe I thought that home would be the first place he would look…maybe I wanted him to find me. Maybe I just thought that home would be the easiest place to return to and that I could always leave there as easily as I had left home the first time. I...that wasn't a good decision, I know that now. I should have realized that going home would make it easier to fall back into habits and mannerisms that I vowed not to ever do again. But…I suppose…that promise was made to him, wasn't it? I promised a lot of things…I broke a lot of promises the night I left. I don't suppose it matters anymore, but I still feel guilty. The fact is, I was stupid, and I went home knowing that any punishment they could put me through couldn't be worse than this.

As per usual…I was wrong. I didn't think that they could do anything to me that would put me in a worse state than I was already in, no physical punishment, no length of verbal abuse…but it was my father who delivered the worse punishment. He didn't look at me like he was disappointed that I had broken my promise…but he smirked. He smirked because, even though I vowed never to come back, I did and he always knew I would. He smirked and then smiled and welcomed me back, "What a good child you are…coming back." What a pile of shit, this was just another job well done for him and we both knew it. I guess his track record of never failing a job would be kept clean…

The rest of my family, however, remained predictable. My grandfather watched with a humorous grin as my mother smothered me, she had missed me oh so much, so much that after she was done hugging me until I couldn't breathe she felt the necessity to scream at me until I could no longer hear. My second eldest brother yelled at me, but he always does that…he can't touch me and he knows it. My little brother smiled sweetly at me and welcomed me back with a polite bow…he was a good kid, he really was…I kind of feel bad for him, almost. My eldest brother gave me one of those irritating looks, the ones that I can't read no matter how hard I try. Damn him, he always does this…I don't think he can feel anymore. I really don't…he hasn't given a genuine show of emotion since I was young. I dislike my eldest brother…no, I HATE my eldest brother. He dragged me back here after I left the first time, and I wanted him to be smug that I had come back but no. He looked at me, patted me on the shoulder, and moved on. Damn him.

Dad said that I'd start taking up jobs again. I didn't care, I didn't really care about anything anymore…I made myself not care. If I cared, then I'd start to care that I'd just left him, and I wouldn't be able to go back to not caring. So I started doing work again. I found that I was doing I worse job of it then I had when I was a kid. I could never do the job like grandpa, or dad…or even my eldest brother, but now…it was hard to do it at all. I couldn't keep a cool, emotionless mask up and I always got "too involved" as my father put it. But I get the job done, and I get paid, and that's what really matters after all, isn't that right?

I found my life falling into a routine. It was monotonous and boring, but the occasional interesting job would keep my mind from falling back to thinking about him. That's what mattered, not thinking about him. My family hadn't changed at all, and my home was still the cold, cruel place it had always been. The only difference is that my eldest brother wouldn't look at me anymore. After several months, after I was on my way to my next job (another victim without a name, I never ask for names, or else I'd start caring too much. I just get a description and work from there) he finally spoke to me. The first words since I had returned home. He looked at me in the eye and said "You shouldn't have come home." And that's all he said. He told me those five words, turned, and left…and I could've sworn I saw a tear rolling down his face as he left, face as impassive as ever.

I know why he was crying now…I should've asked for a name, I should've refused the job I…I should've realized this would've happened. It was all going so WELL, too. That was the frustrating part. I was finally starting to forget the silly little morals he had taught me, and was remembering how to ignore my conscious, and forgetting that you couldn't place a price on human life… I have to admit, he is cleverer than I ever gave him credit for. I thought that if, I had to stop myself from thinking "when", he came looking for me he would just burst in headfirst, recklessly ignoring any possible consequences of his behavior. I guess he had learned from me too, that maybe the only way to catch me was to act like me. I never thought I'd have to do this…I never thought I'd have to see him again like this.

And that brings me to where I am now, looking into his determined and fiery black eyes as he tried not to cry. Whether he was happy to see me or sad to see what I had become…no, reverted back to… I didn't know.

"You came…" he whispered, and I could hear his voice shaking. I stayed silent; trying not to look at him…I didn't think I could.

"You…broke your promise…you said we'd…we'd always be together." He had grabbed my hand, and I let him. He bit his lip before speaking again. "Y-you…left. Why did you leave? I've…looked for you…I've looked for you for so long… I-"he broke off and looked away as a tear began to make its way down his cheek.

I finally looked back at him, and felt my heart sink. Why, WHY did this have to happen? Why could he always make me feel so…so GUILTY, so pathetic, so weak…? "I…" but I couldn't finish. I didn't know what to say, I couldn't think of anything. I couldn't feel anything anymore, it was as if I had gone numb, and he…he had barely done anything.

"I don't care." He stated bluntly, his face returning to stony determination, "You're coming back with me, you're going to apologize to everyone for worrying them, and then we're going to be together and you won't leave again."

I felt bad, I really did…but…but I laughed when he said that. Not cruelly, I don't think so, but…I laughed. And I kept on laughing. I couldn't stop myself; I didn't know what I was doing. I was clutching my stomach, and I could feel myself crying from my incessant giggling. And then he looked at me with this shocked expression on his face, and then I finally found words to say to him. "You haven't changed, you know that? Not at all. I thought that I had…I had finally escaped and that-that you couldn't do anything even if you found me. I thought it wouldn't matter even if you did because I didn't care anymore but…you…" I managed to stop laughing long enough to catch my breath before continuing, "You still can do that to me...you still can make me care. It hurts, it really does…brother was right, I shouldn't have come home…it would've been harder for you to find me."

And then you did something I never thought you'd ever do to me in seriousness. You hit me…punched me straight in the stomach and I could tell that anything you felt before had been replaced by indignant anger. "You make it sound as though it was a chore to be with me! I would've found you anyway; I wouldn't have stopped until I got you!"

I smiled again, "I know…" and then you looked at me, and I looked back at you and mentally cursed myself for so shamelessly falling into the cliché as you smiled back and hugged me and I just stood there and let you. And I hated myself because I knew that I'd leave here with you, again, and break more promises, again, and let myself get dragged into your reckless adventures and like it, again. And I knew, above all, that as soon as I left with you again, that wouldn't be able to forgive myself for letting you have this effect on me and you'd tell me I was being too hard on myself again and then I'd be overcome by that warm and comforting feeling that you always make me feel. But…that's OK, I guess because it's you, and I think now I finally realize that after all this time that there is no point running away because I'll always go back to you because…

"Let's go, Killua." You cut my thoughts off and turn to leave, confident that I'll follow you. And I will…I always will and you know it because…because…

"Because I love you, Gon."

And I always will.

Author's Notes (yep, this again :D)

This...this wasn't SUPPOSED to turn into a fanfiction. I SWEAR that this started out as a perfectly respectable work of original fiction before "Do You Feel Like I Feel" started playing on my playlist and my protagonist started turning into Killua. Before I knew it...I had a fanfic on my hands...again. Why does this always happen to me? WHY? I tried to be as annoyingly vague as possible, by not using names. The entire thing is told from Killua's POV, if you didn't get that :P Also, when not directly referring to an aformentioned person, "he" and "him" are reffering to Gon.

I won't beg for reviews, but if you do you shall be rewarded :D