His Favorite Color
It was another cloudless, starry night when Gon suddenly stopped talking about comets and constellations or whatever and asked him what his favorite color was.
Maybe it was because it was such a sudden question and Gon was the one who asked him—and because, well, no one had ever asked him that before—that put off Killua Zoldyck well enough to make him blurt out, "Well, it's not white."
Silence as opaque as the night sky hung between them and he swallowed the air caught in his throat. It was true; he hated the color white. But he hadn't meant to say it out loud like that.
Out of the corner of his eye, Gon shifted beside him and sat up. Killua braved a sidelong glance. The light from the campfire danced across the other boy's arms and back and made the tips of his spiked hair glow copper.
Killua's heart thumped as he waited for what he inevitably saw coming: "Why?" But not just the question Why? but the way Gon would ask it, the way he asked about everything and made Killua want to answer.
But he was still sitting quietly next to him, which left Killua to think.
So he did.
He thought about first sparring session with his father he could remember, the one where his father's massive hands had gripped him by the roots of his silver-white hair and tossed him. He thought about the way he skid across the floor and how it felt like an eternity passed before he was able to pick himself up from the ground.
And the first time his nails had pressed against the vein of a white throat and the stark look of still-warm blood running over his fingers.
He thought of the times his mother gently cupped his cheeks and murmured how he, so alabaster and perfect, was the ideal heir of the Zoldyck Family bloodline as she fed him another spoonful of poison.
And remember the curious way he used to watch all the cuts and welts from Milluki's whips and knives and cattle prods fade from stark black and blue to dull, rusty brown and white again on his skin.
And even now, when he felt his vision swim and the world turn white and heard
RunAWAYrunAWAYrunAWAYrunAWAY
and
killkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkill—
All of a sudden, the night sky and its tiny pinpricks of white stars were obscured by Gon's curious, searching face.
Killua had come to feel that nothing in the sky compared to the brightness in Gon's eyes—not the smattering of stars above head or even the sun itself—but in being so out of it, he hadn't been expecting them to be so close. He felt the same way he always did when Gon was very close to him, like his body was rising towards the atmosphere.
He inhaled sharply, to bring himself back towards the earth. "What."
Gon's face lit up infinitesimally, like a student excited over being called on by a teacher in class. "So Killua," Gon began, "if white is your least favorite color, then what's your favorite? I can't figure it out."
Killua turned his head to meet the other boy's gaze. They were close enough that he could smell Gon. His clothes still carried the scent of air-dried laundry and cedar. "…You've been trying to figure it out this whole time?"
"Yes. It's been kinda hard." Sure enough, Killua could see the confusion in his eyes and a bit of steam coming from his ears.
Killua felt the small rush of heat to his cheeks before looking away again. "What does it matter?"
"Because. It matters because you matter. And friends should know what each other's favorite color is."
Killua's glance snapped back to Gon, and he readied himself to tell the other boy that he should've been embarrassed to say that like he always should be embarassed to say nice things about him to him. But then he saw the light from the campfire across his face. Gon's skin shined as brightly as ever, like a glowing ember of yellow and red. Those shining eyes of his had become honey-brown and Killua was pulled into their universe again.
"Gold." He had said the word so quietly that he almost hadn't recognized that he had been the one to say it.
"Gold?" A piece of wood from the fire crackled, and the rush of light made all the shadows across Gon's face fade for a brief moment. "Gold."
A smile that Killua couldn't decipher came across Gon's lips before he pulled away once mre. "Gold's a nice color."
Thanks for reading. Fun fact: Gon and I make the same face whenever someone makes up a math problem. Math's the worst.