AN: so, this is an idea that i've had for a good looooong while, and when i began this, there was legitimately only a skeleton of a plot, hardly any exploration into the other characters, little diversity and overall, just a bland idea from a small marble. now though, writing it out and even though it's only the first chapter, it's blossoming into something i never thought possible. despite the slowness of the first two or three chapters, i hope this will really take off when i get to write more and more chapters.
as for a warning, yes, there'll be possible blood/gore/combat, as well as mentions of deadly sickness. this is also an oc dependent fic, so if that doesn't float your boat, you may wanna scoot. and for those looking for a disclaimer, well ... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
. . .
chapter one
in the beginning
When Killua reaches the bathroom mirror, he maps himself.
Watches how every curve, every twist of muscle and bone and atom make him up, this little pocket of space with stories to tell. His hands find his throat, cups it with tremors in his fingers like he is made of shattered tea-cup, as if there is no life under this pipeline. Here, where Gon anchored himself and sunlight bled from his tongue, he remembers. His eyes find his shoulders, two dense mountains under a blanket of silken soft snow, how they look more broken than stone beneath the fluttering, open-and-closing mouth of the bathroom light. Here, where Kurapika placed his hands and told him 'nightmares are nightmares if you let them.' Finally, he finds his face. Finds where horror has constructed a cheekbone with sharp fingers, where horse-fright fear has carved out eyes that now see things that he hadn't before. Here, Leorio had pressed his hand to muffle his childish cries of what to eat for dinner half a year ago, bumbling, indignant laughter in his breastbone.
He follows this mountain trail, jumps the cobble stones of the inside of his arm, follows the swallow of his ribs and the canyons of his fingers, where Gon had laid to rest worries, stories of islands shaped like whales, myths and legends of a life lived in sunlight. He can still feel the tattoos of where his hands lay, when sleep dragged them together for a few hours a night, where no one could find them caught together like twirling vines. Endlessly caught up in each other, even if their roots are spread miles apart.
So he only believes it is right, when he exits the bathroom in a billowing of steam and fluorescence, to ask what is the matter with Gon. Gon's legs swing, two pendulums in motion, off the edge of the hotel bed, socked feet brushing the carpet in their movements. His head is down, staring at the unused accompany card he had gathered, smuggled behind the facade of patch of shore in the Two Towers after Greed Island. A clever idea by a blissfully ignorant boy.
"Gon," Killua breathes, and the world seems to rush to attention in Gon, "what's wrong?"
"Nothing, Killua," Gon says, tapping out stars with the sheer weight of his smile on his features. Killua doesn't miss the tightening, the coil of fingers around the plastic that swallowed nen once upon a time. The flinch of a frown or a smile across drawstring lips. His brow shudders, wrenches wrinkles over the pair as he stares at Gon, trying to predict the unpredictable.
There's a standstill for a moment; Gon waiting for accusation, Killua waiting for confession. Then, suddenly, the air leaves his lungs and he hobbles, slightly sore feet from walking miles pushing him forwards until the edge of the bed touches the backs of his knees, fingers massaging away the blossoming of phantom pain in the balls of his feet. Killua shrugs, the ache seemingly more important than Gon's words. "Well, can we talk about the towers then? I mean, you could have used accompany to find Ging, but you didn't. You could have found someone who knew him, but you didn't. What you did do," and he enunciates, because Gon is a world away, caught in someone else's voice, a voice found in a box sealed by nen, "is make us walk around four miles until we found a boat out of there, wait a few days then walk another four miles to the nearest town, then scramble together a few hundred jenny to spend a night here. You almost sold paladin's necklace to stay for one night."
He peers up from where the pain begins to secede, when Gon finds his eyes again. They aren't filled with the sadness, or the pain, he had expected from not going after Ging instantly. Not even disappointment. Instead, there is a curl of hesitation, of a shyness to Gon's character he hasn't found looking at him before. He stops massaging his feet.
"Well, uhhh," his fingers scratch at his cheek, a mindless habit that once, when nervousness had chewed away at most of his confidence, had scored red welts downwards on the honey-glazed skin. He hadn't noticed until the scarlet had blossomed into pain at dawn. "I wasn't really going to sell it. The guy just looked interested and I was showing him and he didn't really want the jenny anyways, but -"
"You're rambling."
"Ah, sorry Killua," soft laughter exits his throat, no longer the weighted ambivalence he had been before in his mouth. That, alone, is what makes Killua slump against the wall. "The thing is, when I said I wanted to meet Ging, I do. But I want him to meet everyone, especially you! But, the only way I can do that is by calling Leorio and Kurapika."
"And you don't wanna bother them."
It isn't an admittance at all when Gon shakes his head; Killua had expected it. He knew Gon breathed unholy kindness, an affinity to include everything that occupied his heart into one place, one doorway. Even if the frame creaked, even if the door snapped off his hinges - Gon would bring everything and everyone he loved to the doorway. So Killua smiled softly, a gentle thing that only Gon got to see when night time wormed it's hands between their ribs, pulled covers over their rattle-snake hearts and told them it was time to be still, to no longer race for a few more hours.
His arms cross, head tilted up towards the ceiling. With the few jenny they'd had left over, Gon had begged for something of a souvenir to take home, something he could remember Greed Island by. So, he'd brought glow in the dark stars, because Gon's nen had reminded him of a supernova, a star falling to pieces as the days wore on. And he'd told him to wait, to take them home and stick them wherever he wanted too in his room at Mito-san and Grandma Abe's home; but Gon was excitable. They'd be yelled at by the hotel staff, be forced to shove their remaining jenny their way to pay for the damage a few jelly stars would leave behind but -
Killua looked at the stars, then looked at Gon. "I don't think they'd mind."
It is worth it when the light returns to the other. "Really? You think so?"
"Mm. They won't mind if it's you. Though, you may have to persuade Kurapika. He's gonna be the tough one; but if you can snag Leorio away from his studies, Kurapika may just listen."
"Wow! Thanks, Killua!" Gon hooks himself around Killua's neck, sends them tumbling in a billowing of pillows and hotel duvets. Laughter explodes, laughter becomes static in Killua's ears as they lay, a tumble of flower stems, across the bed sheets.
"Idiot! Get off!"
"Leorio!"
"Gon!" There is a smattering of skeptical looks around the quad thrown towards him, and Leorio ducks, becomes a curled in piece of paper under their hot-poker stares. Red dusts itself across his features and he hunkers closer. "Alright, I did it. What's up?"
It is worth the humiliation when he is rewarded with a giggle, a bumbling of happiness at the realization Leorio had done as Gon had asked; shout his name with the ferocity he had shouted his. His fingers flex around the phone, the cold biting away at them but he doesn't mind, the panini he's acquired is warmth enough other than Gon.
"Do you want to come to Pangaea?"
"What are you doing in Pangaea?" a mouthful of ham and cheese blocks his words, a muffling that Gon doesn't reply to instantly until he repeats it, and there's a pause before, "you're not even in Pangaea, are you?"
"Not yet, but Killua and I are going there right now. Say hi, Killua!"
Something crackles. Something rustles. "Hi old man."
"Oi! Don't be rude," he scolds, but it is punctuated with laughter, a fondness he hasn't quite been able to quench when the phone is released back to it's owner, filled with amusement at the exchange of pleasantries between the two. Leorio shuffles on his seat, scarf billowing slightly in the autumn breath. "So, why are you going to Pangaea then?"
"Well, Killua said it's a pretty good place to cash up on a lot of jenny," and this is what captures him, causes him to sit up slightly, "and it's full of people from loads of different places and it's apparently lots of fun! And we wanted you and Kurapika to join us before we asked you."
"Asked us what?"
"If you wanted to go meet Ging with Killua and me."
"Really?" Even if the money aspect had caught his interest, had grappled him into a sitting position, he almost topples back into the gushing mouth of the fountain in shock and, strangely, fierce pride. "Are you sure? I thought this was just a Killua and you thing."
"It was meant to be!"
"Killua! I wanted Ging to meet all my friends; so, do you want to come?"
He feels far warmer, awash with fatherly amusement at the gaggle of excited voices on the other end of the phone, when he says "when do we leave?"
"Gon."
"Kurapika!"
"Are you well? How was Greed Island?"
"It was great! We made loads of friends; Killua and I met Wing's former nen teacher, Bisky - she'd really like you, I think - and we played some dodgeball and -"
"That sounds exciting."
"It was!"
"Good, I'm glad; but, I may need to leave in a moment, so I-"
"Oh, wait, please," and it is the whine, the soft consistent scroll of his voice through the phone that causes the blond to stop, to still his earthquake hands. "I wanted to ask you something."
"Very well."
"Do you want to come to Pangaea next week? On the Tuesday?"
"I...I-I don't know Gon, I have a lot of work to do and a mess that isn't completely cleaned up yet, maybe-"
"Leorio's coming."
"You got Leorio to take a break from his studies?"
"He was already on break. Plus, it's meant to be lots of fun there and there's people from all over gathering every day! You love learning about new cultures, don't you? We wanted you to have some fun before we asked you."
"That's true. And Melody has said my condition will only worsen from after Yorknew, so - wait a moment, ask me what, exactly?"
"If you wanted to come and meet Ging with us?"
"I wasn't aware I was invited, initially."
"Of course you are!"
"This idiot only just thought it up."
"Killua! Don't listen to him Kurapika."
"Heh, alright. Are you sure though?"
"Uh!"
"...Alright, I'll be there."
"Really? Ah, thank you Kurapika!"
He can't stop the flow of a smile onto his mouth. "Anything for you, Gon."
Pangaea is an explosion of colour, a ticking time-bomb of smells and people that they've never had the chance to inspect, to fold their minds around and understand. Languages they haven't heard crackle in their ears, the pavement feels smooth and the wind rides a fierce current around the market. Children scatter, shriek with rat-tailed excitement at a game of hide-n-seek, mothers ringing up shopping in a clicking of words.
Immediately, Gon is enraptured. He can taste the salt from the sea, feel the wind dig it's fingers into his hair and as always, speeds forwards with Killua to watch his back. Halfway through touring the city, he turns back to Killua, halfway between a laugh and a yell. "Killua? Are you keeping up?"
"Of course I am, dummy. You're so slow and loud, Leorio could track you."
"He won't appreciate you saying that."
Killua flicks Gon on the forehead, a pleased smile forming when he yelps. "Then don't tell him."
After a few moments of rubbing, of pressing the short, soft pain back into a deeper part of him, their feet soon guided them through hidden streets, across the overhanging lips of houses, across window ledges and washing lines, strung up like veins between their arteries. As they studied, as they absorbed the skeleton of this city built from the homes of people from across the world, they talked. And they listened.
"So...Killua, why do so many people come here? I've only seen big crowds like this when there's a mob meeting, like back in Yorknew."
"That's because this is the site of the collision, I think," Killua comments, body slicing through the air as the rolling teeth of his skateboard clatter, glide across picked-apart rooftops and gravel; before he can speak again, he hits an upended slate and launches a few centimeters into the air, before landing. The bounce does nothing to shake him, landing on the wheels of his skateboard. "Apparently, when the world was formed, Pangaea was a full country, but the earth's crust was weak around it 'cause it sits on the equator," and to help, Killua lays his hands parallel and facing each other, moving them closer and closer until one slides over the other, so Gon understands what he says, "and because it was so weak, the earth's crust broke, forming an earthquake. It broke Pangaea; forming it into three small islands which, over the years, grew further apart. But, another tremor caused them to reverse their polarity, and it brought them back together, causing the collision."
"Wow," Gon murmurs, starry-eyed by such a story. Somewhere, in the deepest corners he hasn't tried to scrub at yet, he remembers a Whale island tale Mito-san had whispered to him in the dead of night. Neither of them were meant to be up; Mito-san was only a girl of seventeen and Gon a child of six, but oh, how lovingly she spoke of how the Gods had tied ribbons to each corner of the earth's rocks that formed their countries and one day, when the time would be right, would bring them back together and call it home. Although Grandma Abe caught them, giggling in the glow of torch light, she couldn't scold them, only chalk it up to an old myth's tale.
"Killua, how do you know all this?"
"I read, that's why."
"I bet you're a genius."
"Shut up; and watch it!" Killua's skateboard clatters as he halts, clutches a desperate hand around Gon's arm as he steps up to the jutted parapet of a rooftop's edge. Gon laughs away the danger, as always, and Killua is left to scrape up the jumbled pieces of his heart again, before recommending they scale the building downwards and walk on foot. The air density made their heads light anyways, spilling compliments so only the wind would hear.
It isn't long before they come to the heart of the city; a miniature festival producing dragons, dancers with bells, stalls of sweets that has Killua's blood popping in his ears. Colors blur into each other, and only because they have a tight hold on each other do they find them, a pretty girl trying to coerce them into joining a dance where they'd hang bells around their heads, already trying to slide some onto Leorio's blackthorn hair.
They're only saved by the sudden appearance of Gon, as he leaps over a pair of men crouched to tie their laces in tandem, to slam into Leorio's stomach in a billowing of laughter. It punches the air out of him, but the girl leaves with a soft, knowing smile and tries to wrangle the two men Gon had leaped over into the dance.
For that, Leorio is thankful, and squeezes Gon close.
"You came!"
"We said we would," answers Kurapika, and slides his arms wider, a gentle invite for the boy to fall into him, inhale the wood smoke and ink he has become accustomed too over the last two years. Kurapika's fingers dig into his hair, smooth away the errant strands that jut out of place and laughs when they fall further from their perch. A thumb glides it's way over the swell of his cheek bone, copper eyes finding a place along his features. "You look slimmer. Have you been eating?"
"Have you?"
"...Don't tell Leorio."
This earns the Kurta a soft gasp of amusement, and he free's the child back into Killua's care as he's released from a bear hug. The sight causes him to snort behind his hand, watching how Killua smooths away the wrinkles of his shirt as if they are anything but loved.
"So, you ready to get caught up in that mess?" Leorio jerks his head back towards the cacophony, the symphony of lives intertwined in one, fluid motion. They stamp stars from the pavement, tap out constellations as their feet bang in tandem, as bells alight the return of their bodies to the music. Gon and Killua watch in fascination; Kurapika's feet are already mimicking a box step that circles the fountain.
Gon looks at Leorio, unhooking his thumbs from his bag straps. "Definitely."
The day pulls to a soft close, drags the sunlight back to it's corner in exchange for the moon's aching return. It isn't bloated, not even properly in the sky but peering, shyly, across the ridges that circle the valley Pangaea is found in. And Gon is hanging his legs from the window sill, propped against the wall like a tired flower stem, wilting at the waist. He watches softly at the moon, how it grows to form something you can sleep peacefully beside.
He looks at Killua, half thrown over the bed they'll share. He smiles at the way the moon glow bounces between the whites of him, turning him into starlight. "Today was fun, right, Killua?"
"Yeah, definitely," mischief makes a home out of him in a moment, pulling himself up by the elbows to make a shark grin at the other. "Especially when Leorio and that old lady fell o-"
"Shut up!" A pillow comes sailing as Leorio exits the bathroom, towel ruffling away the wetness to his hair, fingers half curled from where the pillow left his grasp. It doesn't hit it's target, and falls uselessly from it's perch but it is enough for the elder male, who settles back into his own bed across the room, drowsiness pulling at his worn muscles as the dark hours approach.
Gon and Killua laugh, and Gon deposits himself, almost gingerly onto the edge of his bed. Any of the exuberance left over from the day had diminished, switched for a soft, unspoken anxiousness that Killua is too tired for, and Leorio's glasses are caught beneath the bed sheets, fingers itching around for them to bother paying attention to the way Gon's shoulders cave, become a shell slightly in his awkwardness. So it only leaves Kurapika, to slot the pieces together.
He does it by closing his book. He does it by turning himself slightly, and catching amber frosted eyes. "Gon?"
They'd danced around the subject all day, had tiptoed at it's corners as if stepping into it would cause the world to cave in, for avalanches to become real in soft bodies. It's a large favor, an honor for them to be invited to meet Ging finally, but even with all the excitement Gon has caught in the nets of him, like fish wriggling free of his fingers, he is still scared that he is not worthy. That when he catches Ging's eyes, somehow, he knows that he won't be seeing the father, the man - but the hunter and all his disappointment in his unworthiness.
His head snaps up, the static in him gone silent at Kurapika's voice and he smiles, half filled with teeth and sleep as he yawns, settles back against the bed of Killua's propped up legs. The moon plays shadows here, where night runs deep and cuts out the muscles of his calf, the itchiness of his toes as they flex and curl into the bed sheets beneath him.
"Ne, Kurapika, are you sure you all want to go?"
How innocence frames his jaw with such a sentence, all toed-in fear and knee-tucked, childish hope rooted in him, Kurapika doesn't know. His eyebrows rise, and Leorio seems to jerk to attention. A soft look is passed between them, worry caught, and he doesn't miss how Killua doesn't jerk, doesn't stumble to speak over the words and let the sound swallow them.
From that, Kurapika knows Gon needs to talk this out, release the stubborn thorn of hesitation in his chest. "What made you ask this?"
"I'm not saying I don't want you guys to come! No, no - I just...what if I'm not ready to meet Ging, or it takes way longer for me to find him than I thought?" he drags his words to a standstill, a breath of air rushing through his teeth. Among the water reeds of it, Kurapika hopes the thorn has come loose. "I don't wanna be a burden on you all; you've got other things you should be doing."
"Yeah, but this is something we wanna do with you, Gon," Leorio is a stride of starlight into the murky depths the room has been plunged in, a beam that Gon basks in when he smiles, thumb delving into his chest with the smile on his mouth. From here, Kurapika knows that the thorn has lost it's perch. "You're so determined to find Ging, you'll do anything. And we want to be right there next to you when you do. So don't underestimate us!"
"Besides, Gon," Kurapika nods at the child, who flicks his gaze back to him, the edges of his mouth plucked upwards in adoration. "Ging should meet all your family, right?"
This makes the boy blink, pure bewilderment scoring itself into his features before in one, fluid wave his mouth breaks into a grin, head a bobbing of exuberance. It makes Kurapika's heart swell and drum it's fingers across the inside of his ribs.
Behind him, Killua nudges his foot into the violin chord of the boy's spine, head tilted and hair masking the soft, starlight smile on his features. Gon reciprocates and jumps to his feet, laughing as Leorio digs his hands into his hair to mess up the careful spikes.
When he looks to Kurapika, his hands fold into determined rocks. "Uh! In that case..."
But as he reaches for the drawer which houses the card, the doorway to Ging, a shrill shriek breaks the silence and it's captives. Leorio jumps, hands thrown wide in a preemptive attack that has pain shooting through his fingers when he comes into contact with a bed post, and Kurapika cannot stop the laughter that bleeds over his tongue at the sight. Behind Gon, Killua digs into his pocket.
"Gon, uh, it's Mito-san."
"Eh?" Gon turns, mouth framed into a confused oval, hands reaching for the phone. "Wonder why she's calling at this time."
"Probably nothing important, just to wish you goodnight."
"Yeah, hopefully." With that, he put the receiver to his ear.