"And found himself alone."
Killua really wasn't one for crying. No, the last time he had ever shed tears was maybe as a young child; when he was first being introduced to killing; the feel of the blood and muscle tearing under his nails and the squishy pieces clinging to him, constant. When he received his first beating; the sting and pain of scars which would never heal a forever reminder of the profession he had been born into, fated. His first poison; throwing it up for hours on end and feeling so sick and crummy afterwards, endless. It had always been only a little bit, a droplet or two, but nothing substantial to be considered a full-blown sob fest like some hormonal-frustrated teenage girl crying over the loss of her first crush to her best friend.
Haha, losing their first crush. What an understatement.
"Gon.." muttered Killua against his palms pressing roughly into his eyes, fighting the water works threatening to blow any second now as he curled up further under the sheets of their shared bed.
It really shouldn't had been any surprise. This had been going on for a week now; Gon sneaking out at night to go hang out at those back alleys hidden behind the clubs and bars where actual life breathed and talked and not the empty; dank and cold recesses of where drugs and death were dealt from behind. Not in those cramped little spaces where all the starving, greedy people smoked away their worries and cares away on a false high.
Killua had only caught him once and only once in the middle of Gon's attempt to be 'stealthy' and get away. Caught in the middle of his own nightmare and finding your best friend crawl out the window had been a little much. Just a little.
"Gon? Where are you going?"
"Out."
"Out where?"
"Does it matter?"
"Of course it matters, idiot! I wouldn't ask if it didn't matter."
"Just go back to sleep, Killua. I'll be back before morning."
"Gon, wait-!"
And then he was gone. But it didn't stop there. Killua tracked him down; swearing to himself he wouldn't let things slide that easily. No way in Hell he'd let Gon off the hook like that.
When he eventually found him, huddled close to six other random and strange people, his mouth inches from what was possibly a shared cigar; white powder visible to the naked eye and falling out the other end, as they all breathed together in unison to make one big smoke cloud in the air - Killua felt a newly formed crack in his world.
Watching Gon with his cheeks flushed pink and scarlet on an already darkened skin tone, honey eyes half-lidded and dopey, and a body so relaxed and at ease smiling satisfactory the whole time; Killua couldn't even hold back the bile hitting the back of his throat at just the thought of this cursed scenario. Wasn't he supposed to be the one; somewhere in the distant future, seeing that blush? Looking into those hazy, drunken eyes? Holding and hugging that box so lax? Kissing those aforementioned lips that were all too eager to be sharing saliva and air no less with total strangers? He barely made it to the nearest trash can, his retching more then enough to scare away the few people who weren't busy smoking to flee in a panic, less they be snatched up in Killua's own inner turmoil.
When he finally rose back up for air and finished wiping the stray bits that had landed on his shirt, Gon was nowhere to be found. Figures.
And of course, to top it off, as soon as he returned to their hotel; Gon was already fast asleep in bed, wrapped up in all the blankets and his back to him. Killua stood off to the side, his clammy skin hardly containing his uncontrollable shaking as he reached out to touch Gon, but he came up short and dropped his hand half-way there. Gon looked so at peace; cradled under the covers and a face of utmost serenity. Killua couldn't disturb the perfect image before him for all the chocolate in the world. It warmed his heart, if only for a moment, before his sight caught the deep, sunken shadows under Gon's lids, those faintly white patches of dead skin around his mouth now even more noticeable in the darkness, bigger. His hair was a mess, unnaturally upright ends jutting out and tangled, a few sticks and leaves poking through. How long had it been since Gon showered? Even Killua knew Gon had the crazy habit of being excessively clean, ingrained in him from Mito-san.
But here he was, dirty, coated in a layer of dust and smelly chemicals that hung in the air like a fog. A fog Killua was fairly accustomed to. He had seen it before many, many times. But seeing it anew; painted on the face of his best friend, was much more disconcerting then it should have been.
The fog of encroaching death.
Tears were spilling fresh from the Zoldyck's eyes when he blinked them back open to the creak of the window shutting behind him and Gon's not-so-quiet foot falls on the carpet as he made his way back to their bed. He felt the mattress sink under the weight a moment then rise, the rustle of something else and a very soft, almost wordless 'Shit', before Gon apparently settled down and instantly started dozing away. The murmurs of a snore confirmed it.
Killua didn't dare turn though, because his pillow was already soaked with his own tears and the hand clapped over his mouth was trembling, much like his shoulders which took the brunt of his shakes, as he stared through the blurry droplets on his eye lashes at the far off hotel room wall.
What was worse, was the smell of all things. Sweet. Aromatic and sweet like honey and pine together. Gon and Crystal Meth. As one.
It was a math equation that didn't involve Killua, no matter how many things you added onto it.
It'd never let him fit in and give a legible answer.
That was the first night Killua; even with all his training and sheer, unbreakable will power, finally had a melt down in absolute silence.
Better yet, he was alone. Absolutely and horrifically alone.