Characters and world aren't mine.
WARNING: Contains description of vomiting. It's not over-graphic, but if that stuff really freaks you out, you might not want to read.
To clarify any confusion, the first section takes place when Killua's about 4 or 5, the second when he's 7, and the final one when he's 12.
Sweets.
"Kills."
His brother's voice made him look up.
Illumi's head tilted. "You like chocolate."
He nodded, even though it wasn't a question.
Illumi nodded back, and Killua smiled hesitantly at him, popping another piece of candy into his mouth.
The next day found him doubled over in the corner of his room, retching up everything he'd eaten in the past two days. His eyes found the packet of sweets, resting innocently on his bed. The taste of poison, chocolate and bile imprinted itself on his tongue.
Killua frowned, crumpling the packet of chocolate in his hands slightly. It crunched faintly, almost cheerfully, but only made him frown. Usually, he wouldn't have even looked twice at the candy, much less used his hard-fought money to buy it. But he'd seen something on the street, while walking back to the tower after his dinner. There were half a dozen boys, sharing a package of chocolate between them. Smiling. Laughing. Fighting over the stuff.
It brought back weird memories in him. He almost remembered the taste of it. He almost remembered that it made him smile, just like those boys had been.
Still. He was afraid to open the package. His stomach was churning, already protesting the thought of putting the sweet into it.
"It's not poisoned this time," he told himself. It couldn't be. His parents and his brother didn't even know (or care) where he was. There was no way that they could have slipped poison into this small box of Chocorobokun.
Besides. He wasn't about to get shown up by a couple of six year olds. If they could handle the chocolate, so could he.
That thought echoing proudly in his head, he ripped open the package, holding his breath to keep the smell from reaching him first. One of the candies was popped into his mouth. For a moment, a taste touched his tongue. One that was both sweet and bitter at the same time.
He barely made it to the toilet in time, as the sound of him retching up the chocolate filled the air.
He sat back up against the wall, the tiles cool against his sweating neck, as he wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand. What was wrong with him? There was no poison, no reason for him to vomit back up a piece of freaking candy. So what was wrong with him?
He shook his head, and flushed the toilet, making his way back into the room to glare at the box sitting innocently on his bed. He was seven years old, a 140th floor contender in heaven's arena, and a Zoldyck for crying out loud. There was no reason he couldn't keep down a little, inconsequential ball of chocolate.
Despite the bile already rising in his throat, he grabbed up another piece of candy, throwing it into his mouth and biting down hard.
He had run out of food to vomit up. After fifteen minutes.
After a full hour, his throat was burning, muscles aching from the exertion. His eyes watered harshly, and a sheen of sweat coated his skin. He was in his now permanent position, hunched over the toilet bowl, leaning against it as he glared again at the innocent box a foot or two away from him.
How had something so simple brought about his downfall in such a terrible way? He didn't even want to eat it anymore. But now, it was a matter of pride. If those six year olds could handle it, he could. Right?
He spit out the last of the acid from his mouth, and grabbed the box, leaning up against the wall. It was cool against his nearly feverish skin, though it did little to help the headache pounding through his brain. He shook the box, and it rattled. He nearly groaned. There was still some left. He almost wanted to be out of the stuff. Then he could burn the box, and pretend the whole incident never happened. But no.
He tipped the box, and one chocolate ball fell out. One. He shook the package to be sure, but indeed, there was only one left.
"Alright," he said to himself, voice raw. "It's a piece of chocolate. You like chocolate."
More humiliating tears burned at his eyes and his stomach writhed in anticipation. He was so done with this. He wanted the torture to be over. Not yet, the little candy seemed to taunt him.
He raised it level with eyes, and took in a deep, bracing breath.
"Kills. You like chocolate."
His brother's voice rang out in his memory so clearly, he almost thought Illumi was in the room. But that was impossible. He closed his eyes against the too-realistic image of his brother's unblinking eyes, and forced the chocolate between his lips.
He clamped his jaw shut, all of the muscles in his body going tense. His stomach protested viciously, his throat convulsing, spine rippling.
But then. It all went still.
His mouth...was empty. As was the toilet bowl. The chocolate...was...In his stomach.
He jumped to his feet, grinning suddenly. "I do like chocolate! You hear that, bro!?" he spat at the walls of the bathroom, almost jumping in ecstasy. "I like it!"
He became aware of a taste on his tongue, cutting through the taste of bile and humiliation. Sweet. And bitter. And chocolate! He was tasting chocolate! And it was in his stomach! And he liked it!
He sort of slid down the wall as his exhausted muscles gave out. "Got it bro?" he murmured, voice sounding and feeling like gravel, despite the sudden shot of adrenaline that had burst through his veins. I like chocolate.
He fell asleep that night, in the cold corner of his bathroom, the taste of chocolate, vomit and triumph on his tongue.
Without the sweetness of poison.
"Aunt Mito says that eating sweets before bed is bad for you," Gon intoned from the door.
"Killua says that I don't care," he drawled back, popping another chocolate ball into his mouth.
He could hear the frown in Gon's voice even without looking at him. "You'll never get to sleep properly, though."
"Don't worry," Killua said, giving him a dismissive wave. "I've done this before."
"But Killua—"
"Goodnight," he chimed, tossing away his empty Chocorobokun box.
"Don't—"
"Good. Night," he repeated, before skillfully throwing a pillow, and slamming the door of his room shut in his best friend's face.
Once the room was silent, he flopped back onto the bed. He was long past sugar affecting his sleep schedule, luckily. Elsewise, Gon would have been totally correct. And one does not simply prove Gon Freecs correct. With a sigh, he closed his eyes.
Kills. You like chocolate.
"Hell yeah I do," he murmured into the darkness, a smile finding its way onto his lips.
The taste of chocolate and freedom filled his mouth.
I wasn't planning on posting this...It was actually just a practice run of writing Killua for another fanfiction. But I might as well start myself into the fandom now, right? I'll probably do another few chapters of this with a similar format to this chapter, but focusing on different subjects. So let me know if you have any suggestions for other chapters, and please let me know what you thought of this! Reviews are my lifeblood. Thanks for reading!