AN:/ Gon reflects on his past, the very thing that haunts him the most. [Part 1]

HXH KiruGon fan: No, no, thank you for your long review haha. I love to hear all forms of critique especially the parts that people really like so I can note it for future installments shhh. I appreciate it so thanks. And yes, I love watching characters be broken down then rebuilt back up. It's uplifting yet a huge gross sob fest as well haha. Thanks!

MermaidInDisguise: Thank you! Yes Meth and all forms of drugs do mess you up, no matter what they are. Long term abuse is horrible, like a nightmare. So be careful is all I can say heh. Glad you liked.~

Show me, is what you really want

Gon was not a patient person. He liked to think that he was, but he knew that to lie to himself believing he had patience would only lead him to ruin. So Gon knew, despite the odds, that he had very little patience.

Unlike Killua, who seemingly had almost unrivaled patience, Gon would rush into anything and everything headlong; burst into the fray with reckless abandon. Gon was easily compared to a bull – The type of person who stampeded around thoughtlessly full strength, never conservative of one's own energy or fortitude, and would challenge anything that stood in his way. Gon liked to think that to play off being daring meant to be courageous but he was far from that.

Gon was just as fearful as any.

The first time Gon dove straight into a bad situation was the time he came out torn but not terribly so, yet it was only thanks to Kite and his quick thinking – His innate desire to assist Ging, his mentor, and Gon's association was enough stipulation to risk his own life for that cause – that Gon outlasted with nothing but a mere scratch from encroaching into Fox Bear territory.

It was one of many times Gon would find luck smiling upon him but his impatient foolishness was frowning, shadowed at his back.

When Gon first tried smoking a whiff of Crystal Meth, he was stoked. Gon hated to admit, but he was a slight bit of an adrenaline junkie; or so Hisoka had laughed at him once back at Heaven's arena. And Crystal Meth was like breathing in pure adrenaline. His adrenaline drug.

"You like the rush, 'ey Gon?" ~

Gon was glaring but it was nothing that the magician wasn't used to, so he simply leaned forward and smirked, inches from their faces touched. "You do, don't you boy?"

"What rush?" Gon asked, oblivious to what this 'rush' meant. The only kind of rush he knew of was the sugar rush Killua got whenever he overloaded on candy, but apparently there were more? "What are you talking about, Hisoka?"

"Ah. So naive and innocent." The elder man reached forward, running the tip of his crimson nail up Gon's chin and pulling a uncontrollable shiver through him. There was still goosebumps on his skin from where their previous match had his heart beating like wildfire, his lungs racing like he ran a marathon, his body hardwired to fight, to defend, to win. But Gon hadn't won and now he was merely bruised and battered but not worse for wear – Because he had luck on his side – and this strange, intoxicating swirl of emotions in his belly wanting to burst.

Gon swatted his wrist over and knocked back Hisoka's finger, casting a hard-earned glare his way. There was darkness in those yellow eyes and Gon was, in some twisted up logic, enthralled by that gaze.

He wanted more of that look, directed at him, aimed at his direction, and firing to kill.

"I'm not naive." Gon said as the magician licked his lips and made him twitch. "And I'm not innocent."

Hisoka barked a laugh and straightened, hands propped at his hips while his chest protruded, vibrating with his laughter. Gon rolled his eyes and stomped past, not wishing to waste time when Killua was waiting for him, probably frantic with worry like he always did whenever Gon put himself into a wary situation. He'd be waiting to dress his wounds however minor, Gon bet, and he didn't want to keep his friend standing around forever.

His patience wouldn't let him.

"Yes, yes, that is so like you, Gon." Hisoka said, his voice echoing in the distant hallway, "My little adrenaline junkie loves his rush. We'll meet again. I know you can't resist the rush either ways."~

Gon knew what adrenaline was then, after asking and confirming with Wing-san sometime after that; in privacy of course. He didn't want Killua to worry – Or at least he didn't want to bicker with his friend about how much of an idiot he may be sometimes. Gon knew he was moronic but having it reminded to him constantly was a little tiresome, though he did appreciate Killua being there to support him enough to let him know when he was doing something stupid.

But he couldn't help himself. Gon didn't have the patience to wait and in turn, he did stupid things, and his luck was good so he didn't worry too much. His foolishness may still be frowning, but if his luck was smiling in his favor then why should he care? The rush he got from his adrenaline was an addiction, a habit Gon was certain he couldn't curb, and Gon didn't want to change that about himself to the very end even if it was wrong.

He liked it so what was so wrong with that?

Unfortunately, Gon picked a difficult thing to like. It was hard to find much of that adrenaline rush in the things they did, albeit they would always be so small and so little compared to what he favored. Big and catastrophic. There may had been the brief slivers of a rush when, together with Killua and Leorio and Kurapika, they combated the Phantom Troupe and handicapped the Spiders from their leader – But it wasn't enough. He was wound up thicker then knotted rope without the tingle of adrenaline to untie him. Gon wanted more and he found himself desperate, on high hopes that Greed Island possibly might provide that much needed taste of his addiction.

And when Gon was introduced to Crystal Meth, somewhere caught between Greed Island and the end of the Phantom Troupe incident, he was totally stoked. Crystal Meth was like a form of adrenaline; or so the teenagers that ushered him forth had informed, and Gon was stoked. This was exactly what he wanted and when he pressed his lips onto that offered cigarette and breathed it in, he was enamored. There was a pungent sweetness hovering on his lips, like sugar and honey and all those good kinds of sweets that even Killua would find bliss in.

Gon loved adrenaline and Crystal Meth was like an outside source of it that he could attach to whenever he felt like he needed that rush. He didn't have to do anything either to produce that feeling. The drug did it all for him.

As Gon puffed on his first joint in the alleyway, his luck was frowning in the shadows.

"Hey, Gon."

Gon turned on his side of the bed, turned to face the other ivory haired boy beside him and smiled, lopsided and lazy. Killua quirked a brow but wordlessly shrugged, brushing their slotted legs together at the toes that Gon couldn't help but shiver at.

"What is it, Killua?"

Killua looked sideways, the tints of his blue eyes unfocused and hazy while peering at the ceiling and not entirely at Gon like usual. He had a contemplative look on his face; taut lines and a creased brow all Gon needed to know that Killua was in deep thought, throat rumbling in uncertainty on whether or not to speak. Gon liked that about Killua sometimes – When Killua got all shy and withdrawn but all the obvious signs showed that he wanted to try, wanted to talk to him.

Gon could only imagine how challenging it was for Killua to open up since his childhood and never complained that Killua wasn't entirely straight-forward with him. As long as he knew he was trying and taking consideration into letting Gon in, then that was all he needed to know.

"Well," Killua said after a few minutes of passing silence, "I just. I'm worried."

"Worried?"

"Do you think we will find a clue to your dad in Greed Island? Or even maybe find him?"

Raising a brow, Gon scooted closer so the dim lighting would illuminate Killua's face better, allow him a peek at that troubled expression on his best friend. He was frowning and Gon disliked seeing such a sad face on Killua. "I don't know." admitted Gon with a shrug but the smile never left him. "But I do know that we will definitely find something there that will surely lead us somewhere in finding Ging. My gut says so and I know luck is on our side!"

"How can you be so sure?"

"I'm just positive about it, Killua. I know we will and we've always been so lucky together. Trust me?"

Killua snorted. Gon's face was like a spotlight, grinning ear to ear and Killua averted his gaze, staring at the wall. Gon laughed halfheartedly at how Killua's pale cheeks tinted red even in the dark and he leaned forward, pressing their noses together with a giggle. Sapphire eyes widened, turning on him in surprise, then visibly calmed as Gon's smile did not relent. Their warm breaths mingled and Gon shivered, giggling lowly in his chest so it vibrated. Killua's body relaxed then.

"Okay." Killua said and Gon felt the weight of his words deep in his heart, dug down in his bones "I trust you, Gon."

The following night, when Gon climbed back into bed after having a heated clash with Killua over the sharing of his Meth, Gon was hard wired to erupt. He had been smoking the stuff all day into the next night, too enticed by the flowing rush pumped through his veins to come down, and to have his friend bash him for feeling good was the noose around the neck. Everyone he had grown up with had reminded him that there was nothing wrong with feeling good, so then why was Killua so upset?

Killua had called this Meth 'drugs' but what exactly were drugs, anyway?

If Gon felt motivated more, maybe; just maybe, he would find out exactly what 'drugs' were. The only type of drugs he was known about was the medicinal ones, why, even the sailors back on Whale Island with thick, ugly brown cigars pressed between their lips swore that what they smoked was purely medicinal. It relieved their pains and helped their anxieties – was good for them they swore – and it was simply a past time, nothing more.

Gon had spent much time staring and examining the wrapped up white powder inside the slips of paper he made and never once found anything wrong looking about it. Killua said it smelled awful but Gon was so used to the scent by now that it smelt nothing but fresh and alluring to him. After receiving nearly an entire backpack full as per first timer to Crystal Meth; much to the extent of a couple thousand well spent, Gon found nothing wrong with any of it. None of it was foul, old or expired, or showed any sign of mold or tampering as far as he knew.

The Meth seemed completely safe to him.

And with the high he received – now he knew what Killua was referring to when he said he was high – Gon was soaring towards heaven without the risk of death involved.

But the fact that Killua probably trusted him less, wasn't any sort of consolation prize.

Nor was the high so much worth the price of seeing that hurt, betrayed expression from his best friend when Gon fled the fight scene, so focused on his need to breathe on the sweet smoke that he left Killua hanging; wounded like an animal from the sting of Gon's own slapped words. He regretted his angry outburst, thinking back on it now, and Gon twisted in the bed to stare at his friend's sleeping face so at peace and relaxed that it was a stark contrast to the early pissed-off despite he saw earlier.

All that succeeding tightness in his chest and limbs was washed away in an instant.

Gon gulped down a lump there and frowned, reaching out with his hand like he may just touch Killua but he settled on his fingertips pushing away the bangs there; showcasing that pale face in the moon light of their bedroom. The curtains were just peeked open enough to allow a sliver of a ray in and with it bouncing off the back wall; it gave Gon a clear view of Killua's full, pink lips and long eyelashes. Heat rose from his chest, up into his face and Gon rubbed the warmth out of his cheeks with a smile.

As if he could ever stay mad at Killua, no, because Killua was his best friend.

And more, but that was his secret then at least.

Gon placed his index finger against the moistened lips of Killua's and chuckled.

"Good night, Killua."

It was a week after that passed, that Gon began to spiral downhill. He realized that he couldn't last even a day without the Meth at his side, because when he and Killua were busy researching the exact date and times that the Greed Islands would be sold off; he couldn't stop twitching or fidgeting.

Killua's snide comments about it didn't help either, a grim reminder that Gon lived for his adrenaline addiction.

"What's wrong with you, idiot?" Killua barked out a laughter, watching Gon shuffle around in the chair while they waited for the woman to bring them the Southernpiece Auction book. Leorio insisted they invest their money into this thing – It contained the exact information they needed on the Greed Island game pertaining to the auction. And, seeing as it was their only lead, they had to take spend on it. "Someone sure seems hyped up."

"I am." said Gon, forcing on his best winning smile. Thankfully, Leorio hadn't been paying much attention to either of the boys, too busy occupying himself in the beautiful young ladies filtering through the cozy lounge dressed in tight blouses and small skirts to notice them.

"Oh?"

"I'm finally going to get my hands on a clue that leads me to Ging."

"Well, yeah," Killua scoffed, leaning back on his hands with his feet propped on the table; all public manners discarded, "We better find something after all this. That was a huge hunk of money for a stupid book."

"It's not stupid book." Leorio countered, coming out of nowhere. He swatted at Killua's legs but the ex-assassin easily evaded him, tongue poked out for taunting measure. Gon chuckled. "And get your damn feet off the table, brat. This place is way too fancy for you to act like a kid. Do you want them to kick us out before we even get the book?"

"Fine, fine. I'll be on my best behavior, old man."

"I'm not old-"

"Your book, sir."

Gon wished he had been paying at least a shred more attention then usual, because really he was interested, but the jitters in his legs and the twitching in his hands was agony and the dull ache of a lack of adrenaline was getting to him. At least Gon could afford a few more minutes pretending to listen and dash out as soon as he can to find his fix. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his shorts and kept his feet buried under the table, all the while his body with its lack of fuel suffered from an unwelcome tremor. The fake smile on his face stayed glued on the entire time through.

It wasn't the first time he experienced withdrawal from something, why, Gon remembered faintly the one time he went on a sugar binge at the cost of Mito-san's scolding. Although it had been worth it, Gon found himself craving sweets not even a day after and for a week he would moan and plead and beg to no avail, because Mito-san reminded him that addiction was bad and to never let himself sink so deep. But on the other hand, she encouraged that the things which he found made him feel good, made him happy; he should hold close and never let go.

If his addiction made him feel good, then it was cross-countering itself out, was it not?

That made it okay, didn't it?

"Thanks." murmured Gon, passing aside the envelope stuffed with cash over to 'Lenny' as he called himself. A lot of the teenagers he spoke to when he was drug dealing all had code names or fake names to avoid suspicion and slip around the police. Yorkshin was such a big place, trafficked for all kinds of criminal activity and underground dealings that police piloted around every corner. Even the shadows didn't feel safe and after the first incident with Gon attracting a lot more then just unwanted attention, he was trying to play it safe.

Gon never wanted to have to elude pursuit from five very angry officers and place their lives in danger ever again – Not when he fled and lead them straight into a close-collision with a dangerous car accident.

He was lucky the three that took the brunt came out broken, but breathing.

Lenny rolled his dark brown eyes and Gon swallowed, unnerved how frustrated and annoyed the older male's expression bore down upon him. "Your welcome." A small parchment bag was handed over to him and Gon bowed his head, thankful.

"See yah." Lenny said before Gon could get another word in and his hunkered body melted into the darkening corners of the alleyway. Gon blinked, pulling up the bag and unzipping the sack to the pile of plastic baggies filled with an assortment of goodies.

These goodies cost Gon a few thousand jennies but he hoped this would last longer then the first batch. He hated sneaking out at night sometimes – Kind of wishing he could sleep, actually, more then anything – and he hated how Killua always curled in so tightly on himself like he was hiding a secret. Hiding Gon's secret, at least. But Gon couldn't help himself.

Something was starting to crawl under his skin and Meth was the solution he needed to pour right over his wounds and mend him. Or so, he was told at least.

What with the nights of constant scratching and intolerable itching during the day while trying to be subtle about his predicament in the face of his friend – Gon wasn't sure how much longer he could take waiting around for a cure to come.

They said the drug was the cure but then why wasn't it getting any better?

"I'll give you a week, no more." Felix passed along the cigar so filled with white powder that it was flaking out the side. Gon brought it to his lips and puffed out a perfect ring of smoke. Lenny and Suzie were off to his side, both enamored in the same shared cigar not to do anything but giggle every once and awhile to something they said. Gon thought it was silly, or at least, thought something about it when his head wasn't hammered by the foggy haze of his rush.

"A week?" asked Gon and more giggles followed. He knew he was ignorant but he wished he had the mental capacity to catch onto their jokes or hints more often. Where was Killua when he needed him?

"Yeah, a week. A week before you start feeling the creepy crawlies and come running back for more." informed Felix, licking his lips after rimming his mouth around the joint Gon passed back.

"A week? I give the kid three days." interrupted Suzie from the side.

Lenny but in with a laugh. "Four days and he's hooked. End of discussion."

The three around him burst into tearful laughter and Gon sat rigid and numb, wanting to belong but feeling like he wasn't in the right place to begin questioning his status either ways.

He just wanted his rush. That was all. And if it was enough to get rid of the bug then Gon could settle for this.

For this silent haze in silent loneliness.

Gon cracked, a week into it and indeed, Felix was correct. He couldn't last a week let alone another without Meth, hoping beyond hope that he could cut back on his spending, cut back on his intake, cut back on his friend's betrayal and pained expressions day in and day out. But Gon was hopeless, a week on his smokes and his brain was short circuiting without the unexplained swirl of feelings and emotion flooding his system, drowning his brain, for however long he planted his lips on the sweetness and inhaled.

Although the thick, black and sickly cloud that spilled out the spaces of his teeth and through the flare of his nostrils was because he was smoking Meth; Gon still didn't like staring at the lingering fog. It reminded him of death, of smoke and ash that burned countless forests, endless buildings and homes, and eradicated all manners of plant life, of flourished animal species, of human beings. It reminded him of the terrible stories focused around fires; how fires could kill, and Gon always associated this smoke with fire. Could the smoke he breathed out kill, too?

Gon coughed more then he should, finding comfort in dragging his blunted nails down his legs, inside his arms, and all over the places that were easy to hide under his clothing because he found those to be the most itchiest. The scratch distracted him from the gray plume haloed around his head whenever he smoked and the sour face Killua gave him whenever he sucked greedy and needy on another joint was like rocks bottoming in his gut.

His stomach hurt almost as much as his pride.

He didn't expect the bruises on his pride either when he willingly agreed to join Felix's gang in payment for his supply of drugs. Running low on cash and steam – and caught between the Phantom Troupe and the sink hole that was Killua's disappoint shadowing him – Gon was forced no more then three weeks in to barter his body in exchange for some drugs. By then Gon's body was already a shredded slab of flesh; he had torn apart so much skin away with his nails that the bandages stained red and the tips of his fingers coated with scarlet color. The bugs infested his brain and Gon swore some days he felt something crawling under bits and pieces of his skin, or tickling under the flesh and bone of his head.

Gon picked at his eyelids and his lips every now and again, when Killua had his head turned and Kurapika shut his eyes to think and Leorio was indulging himself in the opposite sex; all of them too busy to notice how Gon shoveled his fingers beneath his skin in hopes of striking gold.

Of striking the irritating creatures that took shelter below the surface of his flesh.

Felix swore that the drugs would make it better, promising satiety from the pesky things that bothered Gon in his life and Gon sometimes wondered, too, if those things included more then just the bugs in his body. Could the drugs solve all his problems?

"Yes, yes they can." Felix guffawed, "If you give yourself up to them, then the drugs will take the reins."

Gon's brow line furrowed, thoughtful. "And then what happens if they do?"

"Why, Gon." A crystallized piece of rock was pushed against Gon's puffy lips and Felix snickered, foreboding enough to make the young hunter shudder. "Anything can happen when there's drugs involved. They will saddle you up and break you like a wild stallion then ride you into the ground."

There was a chimney of smoke coming out of Gon's ears and it wasn't from smoking this time, but his brain frying. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Felix nudged the rock against his mouth further, splitting his lip with blood, before the crystal dropped into his open palms and a laugh followed.

"Why don't you give in and find out what happens yourself, instead?"

It wasn't long after that Gon sunk deep into the meaning of those words when a blonde girl waltzed his way, hips sashaying side to side with odd shaped candles in one hand and a baggie loaded with multicolored pills in the other. She held them up, dangling Gon's bone to safety like a red flag.

Aphrodisiac is what she told him and escape was her promise. Gon had ran out of spaces to stash his blood-lathered bandages in their hotel room so it was best he curb his scratching habit sooner then never. There were tears on the inside of his jacket's sleeves and his shorts were worn and damaged that it was too time costly to sew them constantly. This blonde girl – Evie – offered him a cure and Gon latched like a fish to the bait; hook, line, and sinker, and he fell.

Gon fell, hard, into the other side of drugs where the world was no longer so much focused on the rush of adrenaline and weightlessness there and straight into the pool of pleasure and ecstasy; where his body was caught aflame and burned away the bugs and instead burned anew with lust and satisfaction.

He discovered the high of sex; per say, locked in a fantasy of his undying crush for his best friend sprawled below him, wrapped around him as a moaning mess where the two of them were trapped in this dreamland. The blue sparkle of the girl's eyes reminded him of Killua and the sweet scented candles kissed with Meth filled the room in its intoxicating scent. Her long, blonde curls fanned out behind her; Gon picturing the way Killua's ivory white hair splayed around his face and highlighted those pale features. It was so similar to his best friend's appeal that as Gon drove his hips forward, plowing them into the pliant body below him, he could just relish in the dream's sticky sweetness of the Zoldyck son under him coaxing him with his aroma.

Gon felt invigorated, thrilled by this new discovery that to have sex while on his high, that he could enjoy these moments where his body exploded to life and his mind falsified reality enough to bring him bliss. The added pills were a bonus; mixtures of Cocaine, Heroine, Marijuana,Viagra and other assorted things – Gon promising to invest in them more if it brought him this kind of rush – and coupled with the Meth, Gon had entered into an entirely new realm.

Adrenaline, sex, and fantasy. Gon claimed this heaven for his own, selfish and hungry for more.

As long as he could escape from the spiteful bugs that crawled beneath his skin in grim reminder that he was addicted. Addicted.

Gon swallowed his shame for his high hopes in keeping possession of this cure for as long as possible. Already selling his soul off long ago for the embrace of drugs; Gon was eager to provide for the group he joined in payment for more. Felix giggled, insane and moronic with his head cocked sideways and grin lopsided like it was never set quite right on his face. Gon offered whatever he could but Felix was the first one to shrug him off with taunts and casual conversation that never actually got finished, cut half-way before it was ever finished.

The pieces of their talks was spliced in Gon's frazzled mind that he wondered if it was he who was going crazy or Felix was already mad himself.

"What are you talking about Gon?"

Felix's shoulders were trembling from carrying the weight of the large shot gun in his hand. Gon was staring through the gaping hole in the cashier's chest where the blood seeped out and pooled in the middle on the cold tiled floor. This was the fourth time he had experienced this;bad blood, bankrupt, out of love and luck. They were little on cash, little on the luck department where unfortunate things followed their way, with no one to care about them or their actions. The police sirens were sounding off in the distance, Gon counted three cop cars this time figuring how shorthanded they were with the others following similar routines. Rob at multiple places and the same time and the cops would be easily scattered like scared rats in a trap.

The cash was overflowing in the register's open drawer and yet no one had made a move to grab. It was Gon and Felix left now, neither one making a move to take the stash and run. Why, Gon was transfixed by the blood that encompassed the paler body of a young unshaven man just fresh into college and Gon couldn't get his shocked, frozen face out of his mind. It wasn't helping that Felix couldn't stop giggling in the background, the punishing weapon smoldering out the barrel just how the drugs burn fragrant from the cheap paper wrap they smoke it out of.

"We're already fucked up."

Felix rounded on Gon, cocking the gun's line of vision straight into Gon's right cheek bone. Amber eyes blinked, unfocused and unfazed and Gon considered himself mentally unstable staring into the barrel of a gun that had already killed once and did not fear killing again.

"We're fucked up."

"We aren't." Gon said, monotonously, and turned away from the gun's eye. He shut his own, vision blackening, and laughed. Although he liked the oncoming rush of being caught doing a dangerous deed, this was nothing like what he expected to happen in return for his need. There was a hole there, in his chest, and he promised himself later to indulge more then necessary in some stress-relieving physical activity to rip his mind away. It always helped before.

"You-" Felix started. Gon spoke over him, laughing.

"Not yet, anyway, we aren't."

Between the late night robberies and the early morning binge fests, Gon was tired. He followed the advice of Evie to start applying make-up to cover up the ugly skin – A trait Gon noticed a lot of the Meth user's around him had – All warped up and grotesque like a messed up painting. Gon didn't like his image reflected back in the vanity mirror either; where the ribbons of reddish scars from his scratching left indentations on his skin and the patches of bloody scabs stuck to the edges of his eyelids, the corners of his lips, and around his inner nostrils.

Gon, too tired to bother bathing and cleaning up, layered multiple applications of make-up to any spot on his body that didn't match; keeping it thick and congealed whenever a sliver of something else peeked through. Gon felt proud of himself for keeping up a normal appearance in the face of the others but he was ashamed of the fake identity rearing it's ugly head at Killua. The backlash of his relapse without drugs would snap and bite at Killua when he was around and this in turn pushed his friend to be defensive, snippy, and sink into a tub of bubbling booze that Gon frowned upon when their backs were turned.

He knew Killua turned to alcohol as a fix to deal with Gon's drugs but the sting of seeing his friend fall into toxic water was nonetheless painful.

"What's that?" Gon pointed at the crisp, silver colored liquid sloshing in the skinny and tall glass Killua held. It was frothing a little at the top and smelled faintly of a deep, rich musk Gon remembered passing by the nearby bars near their meet-up alleyways. Like grapes and vanilla.

"It's a mix of a few things." Killua shrugged, nonchalant, "Why?"

"Such as..?"

The white-haired boy sighed, knowing Gon wasn't going to give in to his curiosity or his absurd nosiness when it came to Killua's behavior and lifestyle. "Brandy with a little bit of Tequila and Vodka mixed in it. 70 proof."

Question marks popped up in Gon's mind and he blinked, mouth agape. "What?"

"What, idiot? Didn't you know there's different kinds of alcohol just like there's different types of DRUGS?" Killua mocked, smirking smug and tight. Gon glared, crumpling up a charred piece of paper and chucking it Killua. The ex-assassin easily caught it then chucked it behind him with a scoff. "Tch, don't get your undies in a knot babe. I was just kidding with you."

"What's 70 proof mean?"

"35% alcohol. Cut the proof number in half and that's what percent of alcohol the drink is. The higher the proof, the higher your alcohol is, genius."

"Do drugs have proofs like that?" asked Gon, wondering if Felix would tell him about those too. He already knew about several types of drugs, their uses and good affects, along with several other types of things that better enhanced his 'high' experience. Perhaps there was levels of potency too like alcohol?

"No. Of course not." reaffirmed Killua with a wave of his hand. "Either you take a lot of that shit for more of a rush or you don't. It's as simple as that. Though I do know there are some drugs that are better then others."

"What's Meth ranked as in?"

"Why the fuck are you asking me?" Gon frowned as Killua stood and marched out of the room, half-emptied glass in hand and snorted. "Talk to your drug buddies, I'm sure they will answer your questions from there."

The door slammed shut and Gon's heart sunk with it.

"Sorry, Killua."

Like Gon on his drugs, Killua changed with his alcohol. With the aid of his Methamphetamine's buzzing in his system, it opened Gon's eyes to the coming attraction he had for his ivory-haired friend with big, enticing sapphire eyes. They were slender and curved, like the shape of his calves and the definition of his back side as Gon got caught staring at him from behind, licking his lips in silence at the heat pooling low and sweet. Many of the people he chose to escape reality with always resembled his Zoldyck friend; the girls boyish with and light features or the boys – He thanked Kurapika for introducing him into the advancement of homosexuality – he fawned over that were spitting images of Killua but never quite fit the puzzle like his best friend did.

The slip into sex only made his secret crush grow strong and it was sometime between alcohol and drugs that Gon's eyes opened to the realization that he wasn't the only one who was crushing hard.

Even though Killua often gazed at him with resentment in his eyes, his soft and supple features bared openly to him spoke otherwise. From the pink tint of his cheeks and the way his lips moistened in his presence, the small shuffle of Killua's small feet beside him and the stolen glances caught when Killua thought Gon wasn't looking was enough consolation to give him hints to something more hidden then his own undying need for his friend.

Killua liked him; maybe loved him, more then Gon did.

When he tested out that theory, ebony hair brushing over white with how close their faces touched, how tightly knit their lips pressed, Gon knew. Kissing his best friend was the greatest feeling he could ever ask, with Killua clutching him as their mouths roamed, teeth gnashed, and tongues dueled for dominance; Gon knew. He knew when he pulled away and saw the emotion dripping with lust in those azure eyes that Killua felt something for him. And if it weren't for the drip of drugs in Gon's veins and the hungry beast inside him baiting to steal his friend away; he would have taken the opportunity then and there to seal the deal.

But Gon fled with nothing but, I knew it, and slumped by the door in which he closed, shutting up off from revealing either of their secrets.

Although he had been crushed, Gon swore to himself he'd find a way to claim Killua his.

If he could just rein in control of his drugs and his feelings and the spiraling of his drug gang predicament, he'd have a chance the least.

"You're so innocent."

A stranger commented and Gon peeked back, half his face smeared with blood. Their expression was nothing but blank and Gon was partly amazed at how composed this girl was, after having been tortured and held captive for so long at the ransom for drugs by Felix's gang. Gon had been left to watch over her and though he was tempted to slip into insanity, he kept his cool and waited. For he was reminded of the same incident before with a woman colored black then dipped in red because of him. The first woman he held hostage – Now this, this girl almost as young as him and just as innocent, sitting there tied to a chair with punishing steel chains for a crime she didn't commit.

The metal links looked ready to crush her and yet she was calling Gon innocent.

How cliché.

"I'm not innocent." replied Gon, the words rumbling hollow in his chest. "I've hurt a lot of people."

"How many exactly?"

"I haven't kept count." Gon didn't want to think about it, either, how many people he had spent hurting for drugs. How many people he had beat with bats and shot in the 'unimportant extremities' or the people he smacked around to rip away their possessions and hearts for the price of his drugs. He didn't want to think about the thrilling rush of adrenaline he swam through in the beginning, knowing that he was in danger and at the risk of getting caught; or even dying, for the sake of feeding his addiction. Didn't want to know how it felt to watch those random, innocent people around him fall at his feet while he stood there, clutching at himself for control with Meth at his shoulders as everybody died.

It was his guide, a guardian angel that did little to guard him from the horrors of the back alleys and the dark, lurking corners of murderers and rapists and thieves and criminals. None of it made any sense and Gon knew, then too, that this may have been what Killua felt like as a child.

Killing and hurting people because you were told to. Because you had to.

Because you had no choice.

"Do you wish you did?" She asked, quiet as Gon approached her holding up a gun. His bruised finger pressed the bullet into its chamber with a click and gently Gon pulled up the blindfold that had slipped from her face to cover her eyes from view. He swallowed, she smiled. "Do you wish you had kept track?"

There was a beep on Gon's pager and he held it up, scanning over the two words there before the gun in his hand rose to eye level, pin point between her two eyes and right against her temple. He pressed forward, allowing the icy cool steel touch her skin and the young girl drew in a breath with a hiss, shivering. But she was still smiling and Gon felt sick and he couldn't help but let his lip tremble and his eyes water because the demon that was Meth was at his back, reminding him that it was okay and it was there for him.

Do it.

Gon said to himself that he wanted this, but he never wanted this.

It was too late.

"No." he finally answered and the sound of the gun shot's bang echoed throughout the empty cellar for the rest of his life.

Gon's life sunk, fast, faster then he thought possible. The sex only pulled him from reality for so long before the bugs came back and the pleasure went stale and he could not longer imagine Killua beneath him but the real people he fucked and he hated it.

Gon hated it all. He tossed aside compassion and gave into the adrenaline rush for the sake of having something to pass the time – Not because he found it exhilarating anymore. Gon hurt people, shot them down and stepped over their corpses without looking back because he had nothing else to do nor did he have any control of himself. Felix and the others told him to and he no longer sought out their approval, simply did as he did. He was on autopilot, moving forward without pause and Gon frowned as his luck diminished and Killua was lingering at his side on the cusp of falling too.

And Gon hated it.

As his life spiraled down head first, Gon grew spiteful and bitter. His nights spent cold, sleeping curled beneath thin covers, or huddled in dark alleyways watching people stray by at night with nothing but smiles on their faces and light at their feet. A trail of smoke led from the cigarette perched between his lips, hopeless. There was no light where Gon tread and he missed it, feeling the positives of sunshine bloom within yet now all that existed was darkness. Gon remembered how Killua had said he was born from darkness and how those who were born there never escape. Gon remembered how he said otherwise, thoroughly convinced that there was always a way out no matter what; but now he was not so sure.

Was there even a way out?

Gon was on the tips of grasping a solution sometime later, or at least a miracle he hoped, when he strolled in on the massacred bodies of his comrades; or so he often lied to himself that they were.

All their corpses lay sprawled and strung about, dismembered and slashed like a bad horror film and Gon screamed. He screamed and screamed and he screamed until there was nothing left because this was reality; his reality, and the note that held bloody in Felix's boneless fingertips reassured the fact that darkness did indeed follow him. That there was no escape from it once he was in its clutches and Gon was honestly fucked, just like Felix said. They were fucked up and he was fucked up and this world was fucked up.

He sunk to his knees and screamed, vengeful and angry and all kinds of torn apart emotions wishing to extract revenge on the ones who did it. There was a beast in him that begged to tear, to attack, to feed and claw his way out of this mess but Gon sunk to the floor in a defeated heap; a cowardly, wrecked heap that gave in the second he considered the idea of revenge.

In the darkness, there was war, and Gon knew that he alone could not be the one-man army he hoped for, could not stand alone to fight off all the drug gangs they battled or the suppliers they stabbed and shot each other over. It was a turf war, a war meant to fight in groups, not solo. He knew he alone was unable to win and now, truly alone without the support of his other starved companions, Gon would run empty and out.

Desperate, Gon tried to barter, to lie and cheat and even hurt his way into a solution that did not come. Only pain and scars came his way with hateful words and a pathetic reality that Gon had lost his thread to sanity in one quick swoop. That he lost the food he starved himself over, the key to his addiction and the crutches that pulled him upright and kept him sturdy; that all of it was gone and he couldn't get it back no matter how much he pleaded, begged, cried and sobbed and threw a tantrum over.

It was over. Gon's life of drugs had ended with the death of Felix's gang and his only available supplier of Methamphetamine.

In a fit, Gon rampaged the hotel room blindly, unable to control himself. He was by himself at first; sneaking in while Killua was probably out stocking up on his booze, and the second Gon stepped foot on the carpet he snapped. He snapped, like a twig in a hurricane and broke apart as he screamed, high and hoarse and agonizing. He upturned the chairs, the table and the dresser and flipped the bed and threw anything he could get his hands on. It felt relieving, being able to take out all the pent up emotion he had been stockpiling for so long – All in one go.

He unleashed his inner beast, he thought.

There was literal tears streaming down his face when Killua came in, panicked and alarmed and frazzled like a cat on edge. His friend did his best to console him, to control the situation that Gon could not and all the ebony-haired boy could do was scream relentless, crazy and wilder then an unruly animal in an unsafe place. Chokes of sobs bruised his lungs from the strain of breathing on scratchy coughs bubbled with tears and blood and the lack of drugs there made it worse.

Killua insisted he know what was wrong but all Gon could lie and accuse was that there was No more. It's over. I can't get anymore. I'm out. It's the end.

Whatever came up to mind, Gon could distantly remember, and before he knew it his fist was knocking the blood out from inside Killua and spraying it on the walls, the carpet, the furniture; as he punched blindly and clawed his way up out of sheer desperation. And his friend let him, Killua allowed every hit like every hit would solve the problem and make it better. But it didn't and Gon was a crying, insane mess when he fled the scene and starving himself on the emptiness inside that would not leave.

Go away.

Leave me alone.

Please, don't.

Don't do this.

Help.

Give me a break.

Make it stop.

Shut up.

Is this the end?

The blanks in his memory felt unnerving when Gon switched back to reality, a rubber band affect that bounced him from scene to scene and left him placed flash frozen in front of a shocked Killua. There he stood, his friend a little bloodied and bruised, winded as well with the way his breath came out in puffy pants of cool clouds in the chilly night air with Zepile at his side; concerned. And here Gon stood on the opposite side of the sidewalk, a heavy weighted backpack in his hands that obviously had drugs inside. There was plastic peeking out and bleach and chemicals accentuated the heavy odor in the air. The backpack was moldy and the musk of rot hung like afterthought.

But Gon didn't care, didn't think too long about why Zepile was there beside Killua or why his best friend was crying out to him because he finally had what he wanted – His demon inside him was happy and satisfied and Gon had to escape while he had the chance to break free.

So, Gon ran. He ran and ran and ran until his feet hurt and Killua's screams echoed like a chime around the lonely corridors of slick cobblestones and chilled brick walls cornering him in. The further he ran, the more the world around him seemed to narrow, seemed to close in on him with no escape. The less chance of escape that came, the more Gon ran, until his unfortunate luck drove him straight into a dead end and nothing but he and Killua remained; trapped.

"Gon."

Run.

"Please."

Run.

"Listen."

Run.

Gon sunk, to his knees, at a loss. The two halves of his being were tugged, yanked and pulled in either direction and Gon's mind raced. Where should he go? What should he do? He gazed down at the bag in his hand and back at his friend; Killua, the one he had sworn to travel the world with back on Whale Island, promised to help him against his family and find the one thing he wanted to do in life. And Killua, in turn, was the one who assured him he would help him find his father and he has. He's done so much for Gon that he couldn't comprehend, couldn't fathom the many things Killua has done for him since they first met that the debt he'd owe him would succeed that of his drug addiction.

Gon owed Killua so much and here he sat, betraying him with these drugs. These enticing, alluring pieces of white and crystals that glittered like gems and gold that promised him endless riches of feelings and adrenaline and all sorts of pleasure Gon couldn't deny surviving without. But neither could he survive without Killua; his best friend, his crush and first love and Gon was betraying him for something tangible and easily discarded.

Was he really this stupid?

The second he dropped the drugs was the second he gave in and ran to Killua. Gon didn't need to think long about his decision or the one he'd choose and although the demon whispered at his shoulders, clutching, Gon clung to Killua with every fiber of his being with the leech at his back.

Tears slid down his chin and Gon cried, smiling into Killua's hair with such a relief in his system that left him breathless. The grip tightened behind him, making him stiff, but Gon squeezed Killua as hard as he could.

I don't want to let go.

He whispered soft, silent promises into the smooth tuft of white, pleased how Killua responded so eager and Gon hoped against hope that his luck would be smiling at his back again. That he could escape this nightmare, once and for all.

But, it was just the demon smiling, and nothing more, and Gon knew things would never be the same.

I promise.