Three

Gon

There was something soothing about Sunday mornings on Gon's back porch.

Black birds swirled above, speaking in a language that was foreign to him, and yet Gon smiled as he assumed the nature of their conversation. He covered the sun's beam from his eyes, head tilted back to observe them in their pure nature. A soft breeze chilled the back of his neck, and he shuddered at the first signs of autumn's arrival.

The birds cawed and flew before leaving their meeting spot. Gon frowned, wondering if he was the cause of their scattered disruption. He sipped on the hot tea that his aunt had provided for him only moments before. The soothing liquid spilled down his throat, heading straight for the empty stomach that had not been fed yet. Gon took a deep breath in, letting the aroma and steam relax his nerves as he studied powder blue sky that had been recently kissed by the sun.

I wonder, he scratched the surface of his chin, if Killua wants to hang out again today?

Gon was beginning to assume that meeting Killua two weeks prior was no accident. Throughout his years at Yorkshin High, he had only been known as the bubbly bright boy, who made everyone smile no matter their social status. Zushi was the only friend that he had managed to let in, and sometimes Gon wondered how far he would string him along until Zushi drowned in the puddle of Gon.

It had been exhausting, trying to remain positive for everyone else's benefit. Even going through the typical adolescent puberty was a chore that he placed on the back burner, always reminding his self that someone else out there had it worse than him. So every morning was started with a bathroom mirror motivational speech and reminders that he mattered, but that did not mean that he had to burden others with his problems.

It was a daily routine: go to school, talk to students, make them smile, swallow his feelings, don't stare too hard in distant spaces, make sure to smile, be a shoulder to lean on, go to the bathroom if it gets too rough. It was a clockwork activity and he had not managed to budge from his disposition.

And then along came Killua. He didn't seem to need Gon, as others so frequently did, and Gon found the atmosphere a relief. Killua's blue irises were always intense, sharing stories with Gon even when his lips were pressed together tightly. Perhaps it was too soon to consider Killua a friend, but how long does one need to determine a bond?

Gon sighed, fear setting in that he would push Killua away if he came on too strong. But there was something about the silver haired, lanky teen that Gon couldn't help but to want to be around. In a world of sun and rainbows and glitter, Killua was a welcomed rainfall in a blazing desert heat. Gon wondered if he was depressed as he found himself more drawn to Killua's sadness.

He smiled through the thought, instinctively blocking out the negative thoughts that tried to intrude his brain. I think, although I'm still not sure, that he wants to be my friend just as much as I want to be his.

Gon placed his hands on his lap, anxiety causing his fingers to fumble with his green satin shorts. It hadn't been this way with Zushi; the teen practically gravitated towards Gon's radiance due to his own loneliness. Not that Gon minded, Zushi was an amazing friend and Gon could always count on him for fun times and an equal balance. But Gon never felt a strong connection with Zushi; days could run into marathons of each other and he would never become sick with missing his friend.

Killua, on the other hand, became something Gon found himself fixated on, from the moment they opened their mouths in Art Studies. He swallowed the lump in his throat, wondering if he was just using Killua and excusing their friendship as a temporary fill in for his real problem.

It's just that, you remind me so much of him, Killua.

Mito hated when Gon painted her freshly cleaned kitchen with dirtied palms.

No matter how many times she scolded, Gon would dirty up dishes with the ink from his charcoal pictures. She could never find herself too upset with him, at least he had found a distraction from the sadness, but she wondered how in his eighteen years of life he had never seemed to break the habit.

"Gon," she pressed her lips together in an attempt to show stern demeanor, "what will you do with yourself next year?"

Gon stuffed a wildberry muffin in his mouth, cheeks puffing out like the fish that swam in the aquarium they frequented. "What do you mean?" He carefully parted his lips, trying not to let the crumbs fly in various places.

Mito sighed, turning around and handing him a napkin. "I mean, you're pretty much an adult now. I won't be around next year with you at college, and I worry that you won't be able to take care of yourself properly."

Gon swallowed the thick breading in his mouth, grunting in satisfaction at the delightful taste. "You don't need to worry about me, Aunt Mito. You have to trust yourself that you raised me right. Although, I will miss your homemade muffins; I don't think anything compares."

"Oh?" she turned her head around, simultaneously stirring the dumpling soup in front of her. "Not even that café spaghetti that you like so much? I saw the container of leftovers in the fridge. Honestly, Gon, you don't know what they put in that stuff."

"Oh I'm sure lizards and toads are a part of their recipe," he walked over to the stove, taking a deep whiff of the soup concoction, "you worry too much, you know."

Mito looked down, eyes dulling into dark shades of oranges and browns. "Can you blame me, Gon? You're all I have, and I don't want to mess up with you like I did-" She stopped herself, becoming aware with where the conversation was headed. She swallowed the after words, afraid to look at Gon for his reaction. "I'm sorry," she murmured somberly, "I shouldn't bring that up."

Gon forced a smile on his face, knowing well that the topic hurt her just as much as it hurt him. He placed a palm on her shoulder, gripping it gently before releasing his muscles. "It's okay, Aunt Mito. I'm over it, like you said, I'm pretty much an adult now. It was so long ago."

Mito turned her head, orange-ish, yellow eyes staring into the depths of his soul. Gon coughed and removed his hand, knowing that Mito was seeing through the wall he had so carefully constructed. She couldn't find the words to say to him, but Gon heard her message loud and clear.

You never get over something like that, Gon.

She turned back to her soup, leaving Gon to drop the disguised grin that split his face. He turned to head to his room, his stomach swirling with emotions that he wished he could throw up. "Call me when dinner is done, I'm going to study."

It was never okay, and it was never going to be okay.

Gon knew it, Mito knew it, but both of them were afraid of the cyclone of events that would happen if they allowed those feelings to spill over.

So instead they immersed themselves in various activities. Mito tried to be the best role model in Gon's life, focusing on the meticulous cleaning rituals, and Gon was transfixed on the art of others. If he couldn't paint the true him, the true darkness that lingered in his heart, he would capture others true nature. A tortured artist, of sorts.

He lay back on his bed, eyes focused on the ceiling as the sun was beginning to set for the evening. He wondered what Zushi was doing right now; his mother and father were probably setting the dinner table, the three of them in smiles and giggles over his bright future. He smiled, happy that someone as genuine as Zushi could experience a loving home.

Gon reprimanded himself the moment he thought those words. It was a slap in the face for Mito, who had given her life up to make sure he had never wanted for anything, even down to the simplest version of love. It was internal battle for him, caught between gratefulness and spite.

He pulled out his cell phone, scrolling through his contacts. His phone was littered with names and icons, but most of them were there because it was the nice thing to do. Neither party had bothered to actually contact each other, but it was courtesy to say, "Yeah, I'll call you sometime!" Gon knew that at the end of the day, he would remain in the acres of land that he and his aunt shared. It was how it had been, and it was how it was going to be.

But things were going to be changing in a little over a year. Gon would be going to college, and starting the life that he saw fit versus the one written for him. He had hoped, all throughout his adolescence, that he would grow as a person and find himself the way others so poetically did.

Yet, he remained as lost and conflicted as his ten year old counterpart.

His digit roamed over Killua's name, hesitant to press the contact under his thumb. He didn't want to scare him away completely, but the gravitational pull that Killua manifested was hard to deny. Somewhere, between the colored lines and the not quite perfect photographs, lay an acceptance between the two that Gon wasn't sure was mutual. He wanted it to be mutual, damnit.

But that was the problem, as Gon discovered many years ago: loving someone too hard can push the ones that he wants away.

He clicked his phone screen shut, locking his arm behind his head. The pinkish orange rays of the sun illuminated the side of his face, creating a portrait of surreal beauty. Gon took a deep breath, closing his eyes and allowing his mind to wander.

No matter how far his mind journeyed, the destination remained the same.

What was so bad about me, that you didn't want to stay?

He had fallen asleep, a note plastered on his door letting him know that the soup was in the microwave.

He sat up, absorbing the moonlight that slivered through his window. He rubbed his eyes, drawing his hand away to discover crust. Reaching down to feel his pillow, he was disappointed to see that it had been wet. I cried again, I've got to stop doing that.

Gon cracked his door open, careful not to step too hard on the creaky floors and wake Mito. He crept down the stairs, surprise taking over when he realized a light was still on in the den. After fixing himself a bowl of dumpling soup, he walked over to the lit room, forcing back a yawn that threatened to escape his lips.

Mito sat on the couch, a large book in her lap and several more at her feet. She had a warm hazy smile attached to her face, flipping through several pages with the occasional long glance.

"What are you looking at, Aunt Mito?" Mito shook with startle, clutching her chest and laughing faintly at her reaction. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

She smiled warmly in return and pet the spot next to her. "No, don't apologize; I was just caught up in old memories. I'm getting to be a silly old bat."

Gon spooned a good amount of broth in his mouth, letting the flavors play over his tongue before swallowing. "You're not old, Aunt Mito. You could compete with many girls my age in terms of beauty."

"Don't say such things," Mito scolded, but not too sternly, "all women are beautiful in their own way."

"Sorry, I didn't mean it like that." Gon scanned over the book that she was fingering through, chuckling upon discovering the photographs. "I had a lot of hair back then."

She giggled, flipping through the pages of more baby Gon photos. "Yes I remember. You were so cute, eyes always full of wonder and adventure. I'm glad that you haven't lost that touch, in spite of everything. I remember when you were so small, and now you're taller than I am. I wish I had a time machine."

"Aunt Mito," Gon placed the bowl in his lap, a serious tone brewing underneath, "will you be okay when I'm gone?"

"Of course not." She didn't hesitate to respond, closing the book and turning to smile at Gon, "But I'll manage. I know you won't be gone forever."

"Never." A simple word full of conviction that resonated within Mito's heart, "I'd never do that to you."

"I know you wouldn't," she reached out and touched his hand, giving it a light squeeze, "I'm sure I'd hunt you down if you ever tried to."

They mildly laughed before Mito turned serious again. "Seriously, Gon, I want you to make a good life for yourself and not get caught up in the past. You can't always be afraid to get close to people; they can be good for you. Zushi is a nice young man, and I know you have been friends for a long time, but promise me that you'll find deep connections that won't break so easily."

"You think Zushi and I will break our bond easily?"

"No," she shook her head defiantly, "like I said, I think he's a nice young man. But I don't see him bringing out the real you. Only real connections can do that and it's okay if every friend you meet can't draw that out for you."

Gon frowned, a hazy picture of Killua clouding his mind. "How," he sighed, finding the right words to convey his question, "do you know when a person can do that?"

"I suppose," she drew a finger to her chin, head tilted back in thought, "it will be someone that you don't have to pretend for. You and I both suppress our real emotions, but I know that if need be, we can be vulnerable with each other. When you find someone that makes you not care about seeing you in a darkened frenzy, then you know that person is special to you."

Gon looked down at the mesh carpet, hands gripping the sides of his bowl tight. Being vulnerable was Gon's biggest fear in getting to know someone, and it was one of the reasons he had always gotten just 'close enough with others'. Shallow waters, only sticking your feet in the pool type of bonds that reacted as a defense mechanism. His new found friend made him feel as if they could collaborate on their pain, and Gon wanted to believe that, even if it was a fabrication based on his own desires. Besides, if Gon didn't radiate like the sun, would anyone truly love him?

I'm afraid that my darkened frenzy will swallow me and anyone I love whole. Why am I once again desperately trying to grab something that isn't even mine?