Arms coiling tight around their bodies, Killua stills his breathing and melts into Gon. Their two heartbeats blend together, eerily in synch. This is what he wants more than anything. Compared to this, everything else means absolutely nothing.
Killua closes his eyes and savours these feelings. All his emotions bubble up to the surface at once, struggling for control in the inner reaches of his brain. Underneath all the joy and passion, there's a premature longing, a nibbling fear and a worrying premonition. The thought of losing all this, losing Gon, tugs at his heart and hurts too much to think.
"Killua? Is something wrong?" Gon asks, searching Killua's eyes for traces of sadness.
Perceptive as always, Gon.
Killua forces a smile, trying not to think about anything else than the closeness of Gon.
"It's nothing, Gon."
Yet the truth is that it's not nothing. However much Killua tries to block it out, it's always there. In every smile and every word he speaks, there's a bleak undercurrent of pain and fear, and it's getting stronger with each passing day.
Perhaps there never was any hope for him. Perhaps a murderer simply cannot love.
...
A brief flash of silver in the dimness.
Running down Gon's skin, a sharp claw leaves behind a trail of dark red. Killua thirsts for every drop. Fresh wounds making contact with the seeping blood from where Killua cut his own tongue, they seal their blood pact anew.
Killua runs his fingers along Gon's face and neck. Unable to hold it in, Gon lets out a weak sob as a claw grazes bone just below his jawline. The sound is beautiful to Killua, something he lives to hear. On his lips settles the shadow of a smile.
Killua remembers loving Gon's gentle smile and his joyful laugh, but those are things of the past. Gon's smile was ethereal... something untouchable to him. Gon's ragged breathing and his pleading eyes, like a helpless animal's, remind him bitterly of home. Suffering, at least, is real and tangible.
A strange sound escapes Gon's ravaged throat. Killua thinks it has a familiar ring to it, almost sounding like Gon's trying to call his name. Letting out a humourless chuckle, Killua lifts a hand to each of Gon's cheeks and responds in kind. "Gon."
"Gon," Killua repeats, solemn as a prayer.
There's nothing else left for either of them to say. And even if there was, Gon could hardly speak without the tongue Killua's ripped out months ago.
Even so, Killua seems to hear a semblance of his name fly out once again from Gon's parted lips. He seals them shut with a kiss, his blood and Gon's mingling on his tongue.
He'll never again hear Gon laugh and say his name with the kind of fondness the boy used to hold for him before. It doesn't matter anymore. Gon's screaming, for him, is a better serenade.
Gon lifts his head up, bloodshot eyes looking at Killua in front of him. Killua stares right back, his face betraying no emotion.
It's no use. He knows Gon too well. The look in his eyes speaks more than words ever could. He's asking if Killua still remembers. The silver-haired boy hangs his head in shame.
How could I ever forget?
The happiest moment in his life was the first time Gon called him his friend. And when he told him he was happy to have met him, Killua was glad to be able to say the same. For the first time in his life, he suddenly knew how it felt like not to be alone.
It was a wonderful feeling, something to grab onto and never let go. Gon had given him a gift. But at the same time, by freeing him from his loneliness, Gon had also saddled him with a terrible curse.
Dependency.
Killua soon grew insanely attached to Gon. And before he knew it, he was too far gone.
His father had been right all along. There can be no friends or lovers for the likes of them, only victims.
Gon's his last victim, and the most precious one of all.
…
If everything is now and nothing is forever, what is there worth living for?
A silver claw cuts a path through skin, soft and supple. Gon once said they'd be together forever, but he didn't really mean it, did he? Of course he didn't. To him and to everyone else, such promises are nothing more than an idle exchange of words.
But don't you worry, Gon. I can teach you the meaning of forever.
Killua slows down his breathing and listens. The rapid thumping of Gon's heart sings to him a song of life. He puts his palm against Gon's chest and presses down, hard enough to make the other boy struggle. Gon's face scrunches up in agony, but Killua ignores it. He can feel the pulse just beneath his palm, but he wants to get nearer. He wants to hear that sweet song up close. Terror flashes in Gon's eyes and Killua smiles softly at him.
Not yet, love. Not yet.
Someday, he's going to see their two hearts joined up together, draw the still beating heart of Gon beside his own as the lights go out in the eyes of them both. But that day is not today. He kisses Gon's bloody lips and caresses his bruised cheek.
These hands give pleasure, and these hands give pain. His lips speak both the words of love and those of despair.
Gon, don't you see? I'm everything to you. You don't need anything else.
They complete each other as surely and perfectly as two separate pieces of the same broken mirror.
Killua trails a deep wound from Gon's shoulder to his armpit. The black-haired boy leans forward in his restraints, his mouth opening up into a wordless scream.
Admiring his handiwork, Killua locks his eyes with Gon's and grins savagely.
"Well, well, well. That's definitely gonna leave a mark."
...
Tearing him apart, each cut rips a hole in Gon's sanity, unraveling the fabric until there's nothing left. Rebuilding Gon in the image that only he desires, Killua is the sculptor and Gon's his priceless artwork.
"Gon," Killua whispers, in a trance, as he moves onto the next one of Gon's limbs.
Killua savours the look of horror on Gon's face, eyes following him as he performs the cut. Too far gone to even scream, Gon watches his self fade away, no longer whole.
Taking a hold of Gon's chin, Killua forces their eyes to meet. Not sure Gon can understand him anymore, but hoping he does, Killua whispers.
"Now you see me, now you don't."
Then he plunges his claws into Gon's eyes and shuts off his vision forever. His ears Killua leaves alone. From now on, Killua's voice would be the only world Gon knows.
I'm sorry, Gon. I truly am.
Sometimes he remembers Gon's smile and a part of him regrets it all. But it was too late then and it's too late now. Gon was too innocent for this world, too precious not to break.