AN:/ Gon falls, succumbing to reality's vice-grip and he doesn't break free. [Part 2]
This is long overdo. I have no excuses but work and financial problems like always. Haha. I apologize greatly for taking so long but I'm going to push myself now and finish this thing. It's a little off, since I haven't written much in so long, so I hope it doesn't sound too weird.
Thank you, like always, for all the support. I'll make sure to try and make it worth your while, I hope! Nearing the end so expect things to escalate for the finale.
Enjoy.
HxH Kirugon fan: It's the past and reaccouting some of the story through Gon and his experience though it isn't totally in depth like it was through Killua. And he stole that bag though I'm not entirely sure if I made that clear or not.. hmmm. I hope so! XD and yes he does have a crush cause this wouldn't be Killugon if it wasn't MUHAHAAH. Thank you!
Mermaidindisguise: I cry too. THANKS AH MAN
iKudo: Your words are exactly how I feel and think haha. Thank you too for reading and reviewing. I thrive on all this lovely feedback!
Watching what you've got, slowly, circling the drain
"I'll wreck this, if I have to."
Gon flipped over the hand mirror and stared at his image; daunting, diluted by patches of red and gray and black and Gon frowned at how his image reflected back the darker side of himself. There used to be sunshine in those eyes, freckles on those cheeks, a tint of pink and rosemary and deep blood red color in his lips and now he was nothing but pale and ash like he had been burned beyond repair. Gon clenched the handle to the mirror, hard, before he could no longer stand staring at himself and smashed it full force to the floor next to him and effectively shattering the image that did not smile for him.
Gon was happy to see the glass fragments at his feet and did not look back to clean it up when he walked away and out of the bathroom stall.
"I'll do whatever it takes."
He scoffed, his insides coiling like they were being devoured and Gon clenched his fist at his side, bruised and painful. The burnt parts of his snubbed fingernails were aching like a distant reminder that this was the life he had given up and Gon bit into his swollen lips despite no blood coming forth for him. He shook his head to clear his thoughts but there were ever present, there, and he couldn't get rid of them no matter how hard he tried to fight it.
"I'll ruin everything."
Gon didn't want to give into his desires, no matter how persuasive they could be or how tempting they weaved a spell. He would not fall for it, for he promised not only to Killua but himself that he would make things better. But it was hard, what with the shaking in his hands and the tremble in his legs, to the deluged mind of his muddling thoughts going haywire where reality bent to fantasy and Gon couldn't keep track of dates, of time or names some moments and forget who he was.
It was scary, not being able to focus with the sheer determination he was best known for, or the courage he had once now lacking and leaving him hesitant and fearful.
Gon hated being weak but without his support, his crutch, his drug; Gon was nothing but a shell of his former self.
No, he wasn't even himself any longer. Just an afterimage of a hopeless dream that he could be better, could get stronger and make up for his wrongs and produce meaning in his life. But without anything there to guide him, Gon was as lost as an abandoned puppy. He whimpered, knowing there was nothing better to do but wait for the end and be stuck in this infinite loop of chaos.
"I'll do it."
Gon shivered and without thinking, shoved open the door out of the lobby and stepped into the fresh, breezy air of Yorkshin, to the smiling faces of Killua and Leorio waiting, and the blue sky that stretched overhead with a sun spotlighting his path.
He swallowed and marched towards them, ignoring everything, even himself. It was all he could do to ignore the haughty whispers of Meth beckoning to him, anyhow.
"I'll surrender."
At the very least, he hoped he could.
The introduction to Greed Island was primarily uneventful. They handed over a release of liability of course and several other meaningless documents to Gon, that they were quick to pass to Leorio for a check-up. Leorio was good like that; smart and reliable and older with experience and always kind. Too kind; he went as far as to wait an extra few days before he left on his flight back to his hometown to make sure they were readily prepared for the game. As much as Gon nagged and Killua sometimes offered a few snide comments against it also, Leorio insisted and so Leorio stayed; keeping tabs on them and always being kind, so kind, to make sure they were okay and mentally prepped for what lies ahead.
Gon admired Leorio for that, wishing he could confide in his old friend after the brutal fight he and Killua had experienced but wanting to save the bespectacled man from the harsh worry of a reality he wasn't quite in tune with yet. Leorio didn't know their situation so it was best he didn't get involved. Gon didn't want to hear the scolding of a lifetime from Leorio if he had found out about the drug world he had been drawn into or the alcoholic life Killua was spiraling through as of late.
Why, Killua still drank, but Gon noticed it had dropped half the consumption it was since he promised to quit and it was a reassuring feel. His friend wasn't going to sink like he did. Killua would be okay.
Gon was uncertain if he was going to be, however.
There was only a few hours left before they would be leaving for Greed Island and Gon was a nervous wreck. Not so much nervous on finally entering a virtual reality game known to let even death be real, but the jittery bugs stemming from his lack of drug. It kept him on edge, scratching and scratching when no one was looking like it'd calm the itch down but his blunt, melted-off fingertips did nothing and Gon was restless as ever when Leorio approached him, alone, and concerned.
"Is everything okay, Gon?"
Leorio's dark eyes darted from Gon to the bathroom door where Killua lingered, brushing his teeth and cleaning up, and Gon drew in a deep inhale then shuddered. Leorio rose a brow, propping his chin up on his fists from where he sat, his navy overcoat draped across his bent knees.
Amber eyes blinked, narrowed, then brightened. "Of course, Leorio. Why wouldn't everything be okay?"
"There's goosebumps on your skin." The doctor-to-be pointed out and Gon glanced downward at the line of soft bumps dotting his exposed arms, then to his knees and down his calves below the line of his boot. He gulped and Leorio tapped a finger on the inside of his elbow, chuckling, "That and you look rather flushed. Are you nervous?"
"I'm not nervous." defended Gon with a childish pout, arms crossed, "It's just cold in here."
"People who are cold don't get flushed."
"They don't?"
Well, that was a dead giveaway alright.
Leorio chuckled but it sounded darker in his voice then anything. He sat up, picking at the wrinkles in his coat absently with his nails. "Gon, if there's something wrong or going on, you know you can always talk to me right? I know-" There was a softening in his eyes and then quiet. Gon caught it and he knew the exact reason why – As he felt the same way too about a special someone – but he looked away, trying his best to appear distracted and not so focused this time on Leorio's behalf. "-I know you." He cleared his throat and sighed. "I know you're nervous and this is a huge deal. I mean- For Christ's sake, you can die! That's a pretty big deal honestly and like hell I want to turn around and the next moment you two are dead because of some stupid game! So, please, if there's something wrong, you would tell me right? Wouldn't you, Gon?"
Gon bit his lip. Would he? Back then, back when he was himself and not whatever this thing is that he had become, maybe he would have confided in his friend. His friend's. But now? Gon wasn't so sure anymore.
"I would." He lied and the smile flitting over the future medic's face made his heart sink and his fake grin grow even wider. "Of course I would, Leorio! I'm just over thinking things a little, that's all. I'm finally going to find a clue about my father! That's a lot to think about, isn't it?"
Leorio nodded. "It is. Are you excited?"
"Yes!"
"Good!" Leorio leaned forward on his elbows and his face shifted from relaxed and calm to utmost serious and Gon couldn't help but gulp then. "But, Gon, you know I'm serious. There's something going on beside you just being nervous, and I think you should really tell me-"
BAM. SMACK. "LET'S GO, LAZY ASSES."
Killua's high-pitched bark bounced off the walls. Leorio fell backwards in his seat, somehow, in a comical fashion. Gon bust into a fit of laughter and was never more thankful for his best friend's interruption then ever before.
A genuine smile swallowed Gon's face as he watched Leorio and Killua bicker, wishing that distractions like these would come more often.
And cover up every mistake he's ever done, period.
Because Gon made a lot of mistakes, he realized. The introduction into Greed Island was a breeze as was the initial start-up when they arrived. It was easy to fool Killua at rock-paper-scissors and guide their directional choice in his favor - Gon's secret cheat move always paid off in the end – but that was probably a mistake on his part. Because his choice was what guided Killua straight into the trap of some strange man's spell and still, they did not know how to fix or curb it.
Was it harmful? Was it poisonous or dangerous or life-threatening? Killua appeared fine and waved it off like it was nothing and Gon knew it was from all his extensive training that Killua had little fear when it came to outside threats but Greed Island was a totally different ball park.
And Gon was terrified inside,, because maybe it all would have been prevented if he hadn't made constant mistakes. If he hadn't picked that direction, they may have steered clear of the danger. If he had tried to intervene and take the hit or even just stop the man, Killua would have been safe.
Gon made a lot of mistakes.
His constant spell of causalities continued to hit when they arrived at Antokiba, city of prizes and a swell of information for new coming players. There was a plethora of things to do in town from the curtains of reward posters with cards in return for favors and the monthly contests held here showcasing fabulous rare prizes with extravagant appeal. In every corner and every shop, there were people, and Gon was both overwhelmed and overloaded with excitement about what may come to them now that they finally entered the game world with nothing but a thin string leading him in the destination of his father and the clue that could just give him what he's been searching for so long.
Again though, it was his mistakes that Gon stumbled through; again and again.
Firstly, Gon suggested they enter in a contest on the pretense of winning a rare card. Sword of Truth sounded cool either ways and Rock-paper-scissors was his specialty. It was a cinch to decimate the competition, especially when he and Killua could cheat and simply play off their wins and losses against another to sail through the masses on a breeze. The winning, prized card felt good in their hands when they walked away, and left their palms feeling cold and clammy when it was stolen not more then an hour after from a band of thieves who'd obviously knew the game far better then they did.
Back to the beginning, they insisted they try a different tactic to gather more cards and stepped into the next section of card-earning: Reward posters. They picked something relatively easy to do – Find a lost dog.
It was simple hunting for a stray up, getting dirty and crawling through all the trash and back alleys with their noses practically pressed to the ground (at least Gon's anyway). That it was, until they were cornered up by a group of strangers who chased them down and bathed them with random spells, leaving Gon and Killua winded and paranoid. For a pair of young adolescent teens caught in a storm with nothing but the clothes on their backs, defenseless; it was easy to make them into clear targets for the harassment of seasoned gamers with nothing but free time to torment newbies like them.
They climbed under a bed of leaves, sticks in their hair and rips in their clothes on day one with nothing to gain and everything to lose.
Day two worsened. Gon suggested a stealthy approach to avoid unwanted attention and the pair split up, tempting solo card-hunting behind the backs of whispers and gathering eyes trying to signal them out. It was obvious Gon's luck would not hold out, caught twice by several huge, shaggy men with beards as wide as their biceps and steal cards that left Gon dryly disappointed. Killua fared no better, his quest guiding him into the arms of a group of skilled Nen users with enough cards to drown the rich. Anything he came up with was quickly gone.
For the second time on Greed Island, Gon and Killua crawled under the dirt and buried themselves there, hungry and pathetic again.
The third day brought clarity to their situation and reality into Gon's mind that Greed Island was much more complicated then he anticipated. Even Killua; boasting how he'd spent a good portion of his life wasting away on mindless video-gaming, admitted that this was proving harder then he liked.
And ever-the-optimist, Gon, insisted they not give up; because his mind was clouded over in a blanket of despair waiting to wretch his heart and Gon didn't want to fall behind it. Not quite yet, anyway.
"Gon."
Killua whispered, his voice practically drowning in the sea of clambering footsteps, of bells and whistles and words all around from the people on the streets to the people indoors. Killua had his hand clasped to his cheek, like maybe it'd guide his voice to Gon's ears and he only shrugged in acknowledgment, bitter from the earlier heist to successfully keep their prize intact. Winning hard contests they had no skill in was brutal but neither was the cruel beating of sick bastards who thought it funny to pick on young kids just for one pitiful card.
Gon was, indeed, fuming.
"What, Killua?"
"Tch." His white-haired friend scoffed and carded his fingers through his bangs with a sigh, "Look. I'm thinking we need to get out of here, stat. We've already wasted three days here trying to get cards. I think we need to change tactics and try a different city and, like, maybe way far away where any of those guys can't tail us anymore. What do you think?"
"I guess." Gon loathed the sour tone in his voice but he couldn't bring himself to care.
"Don't sound so agreeable, idiot. I was only suggesting it."
Glancing down at his full plate of pasta that yet to appear desirable in his own gut, Gon grunted. They still had twenty minutes to finish the plate and Gon wanted to waste every second of their time staring at it and not filling his growling, empty stomach for the sake of suffering. He scratched at the underside of his green coat, taking great care to keep the sleeve pulled down and the bloody scabs hidden.
Killua had enough to worry about already.
"Yeah, okay." Gon relented once he successfully drove away an itch on the inside of his coat collar and breathed out heavily, hoarse. "You're right- Killua's right. Let's leave after tonight and go to the next city." A light in his head switched, a smile tossed his friend's way. "Maybe we'll find something really cool in the next town over!"
Killua's lopsided grin didn't go unnoticed. "Now that's more like the Gon I know. Come on, dork." He jokingly punched Gon in the shoulder, the amber eyed boy glad his attention turned back to his pasta and missed the wince Gon made afterward. "Finish your damn food and let's hit the road already."
"Hai!"
Gon was wrong. It couldn't be better, he thought, because when things began wrong, they finished wrong. The people were worse; not only were the spells awful but the brute force was becoming a pain in the ass and Gon wished for nothing more then a bag full of white powder and something thick enough to wrap around it.
Gon could really used a good smoke right about now.
Beside him, Killua was on edge, his nails sharp and ready to slice through the next person who dare near them with so much as a foreboding glint in their eye. Gon could see it in the corner of his vision, the way Killua sweat bullets from over thinking so much about their situation. He'd fidget and chew on his lips until they were raw, chapped and bleeding and Gon noticed the spots of blood on the insides of his dirty sleeves and the crusts of tear stains around his elbows. There was a stiffness in his shoulders, a body so tense it could snap at any given moment and break into two.
Gon didn't like it one bit.
As the grave peril of their situation sunk in, Gon slunk beneath the shreds of his green jacket and stared at the moon light bathing the back of his friend's nape line, shivering cold and restless. He was using his t-shirt as a thin pillow, silver hair splayed across the tattered remains of clothing Gon admittedly smelled sometimes right before he tossed it into the laundry, high on the scent of a Zoldyck who's hormones reeked like perfume.
His knees bunched together, thighs rubbing, and Gon swallowed hard.
It can't hurt, can it?
Gon scooted forward, pulled himself into Killua's embrace with soft words and seductive whispers against his temple. His mind was a haze, consumed by the lust and need for a relief; brain fuzzy without the Meth to stimulate it. Killua was willing, legs spreading, drawing him in and coiling like vices, like snakes that choked him and refused to let go. It was his little whimpers and moans dragging Gon further and further into mindlessness where all he could think about was a distraction from the madness inside of him, of this insatiable crave that had been building and building and all Gon could think was why not?
The bugs under his skin were burning like acid and his mind was too far gone to turn back now.
Is it okay?
Of course it is.
Killua peppered kisses over Gon's face like a reassurance and when Gon drew back to observe his face, there was a light there flickering back in big blue irises. His breath caught in his throat and he instantly recognized the look in those eyes, the same that stared back at him in the mirror when he thought of his certain someone. His deadly attraction, he called it; the one whom he rolled beneath the sheets of their bed when alone, with one hand pushing drugs into his mouth, hungrily, and the other clutching hard on the arousal between his legs, desperate.
It was love.
Right?
Gon thrust forward, regretting nothing, and the echoes of Killua's blissful cries never left him since.
It was luck; most likely not his own doing, that brought Biscuit to them and Gon was appreciative for the change. He had grown weary of strangers and Biscuit was the light that brought new hope to their dark escapade. Even Killua, bitter and spiteful to anyone who wasn't familiar, of the norm, grew to accept her quickly and Gon was glad. Not only had she saved them from a disappointing failure fighting a man who wielded scissors with a Nen-like expertise, but she was willing to train them in preparation to face the harsh reality that was Greed Island and it was all Gon wanted to do to keep his sanity in check.
The lack of drugs in his system was the nightmare he couldn't wake from and all he really wanted to do was sleep it off.
Training was a distraction as was the budding magnetic attraction sparked between him and Killua, throwing themselves up against the backs of trees, rolling on the grass floor, slaps of bodies and echoing breaths up against the cave walls, and Gon felt unstoppable, uncontrolled, and wild. Killua was a bi-polar lover, Gon found out; his personality switching as many times as it took for Gon to maintain a balance on his tip-toes. He'd be as pliant as a kitten one moment to a ferocious tiger the next and Gon admitted he liked it very much so, because he never found himself bored.
It was a void in his gut he finally found satiety for.
But Gon continued to squirm on the ground alone scratching at his elbows and his wrists until they bled, slumped against trees and peeled off his boots to scrape at the scabs and scars there, sat in utter silence some nights in complete darkness with nothing but one hand on the overhanging boulder's rope and the other with fingers shoved down his throat, stifling his sobs. Sobs of pain, of sorrow and frustration and pent-up emotion that even good sex couldn't guard him from, not even Killua's arms offering him solitude from the creepy crawlies tickling down his spine and collecting in his rib cage. There was a burning on his skin, printed like a second layer that was sticky and slimy and Gon frantically wanted to wipe it off, to wash it all away and he would scrub as hard as he could beneath cold, unforgiving water to no avail.
The ache of his fix refused to leave him and Gon was haunted. Truly haunted.
Gon realized he could no longer hold himself together at two weeks and three was absolute torture that he choked on his own words; the promise he made to Killua against his addiction that he could not counter, and tears soaked his shorts where his hands busily scribbled sloppy words and a flood of lies to his poor, Aunt Mito. Gon hated himself worse when he sneaked away on bathroom break, pleading with a strange in-game character to send a simple letter to a simple but cherished woman until they relented. And Gon hated himself until he could almost burst into flames when he saw the small set of rings laying in his hand then, clutched tight by bone-white fingers and a skeletal, shaky wrist before he marched forward, intent on making this sacrifice all worth while.
I'm sorry, Killua.
Gon scrubbed at his ghosted tears and stepped into a barter's trading post, focused on fixing an appropriate amount redeemable for his Aunt's rings, his inheritance per say, and prayed that God forgive him for his crime.
But he couldn't hold back any longer.
"I'm sorry but we do not accept real-world items here." The big, bulking man said in a low monotone. Gon's eyebrows furrowed, puzzled.
"But this is a trading post, right?"
"Yes."
"Can't you make an exception? I mean- I thought places like these would trade anything! Can't you take them?"
"I'm sorry but we do not accept real-world items here." The man repeated and Gon practically slammed his fists onto the desk in an outrage.
"But why not?!"
"We only accept in-game items that have been earned, bought, or traded on Greed Island."
"But-"
"I'm sorry but we do not accept real-world items here."
A vein popped on Gon's forehead and in a fit, he twisted to the side and his kick crumpled the small stand beside the desk, shattering the quaint little flower pot perched upon it to pieces. Dirt scattered around the remains of the dead plant and Gon stomped off, hand glowing translucent from squeezing the rings in his grasp so hard he could crush them. He was steps away from unleashing his temper and his strange, sadistic desire to crush the in-game character's face in when a young, solemn man bumped past him and blinked, dazed.
"Watch where you're going, kid."
"Oh," Gon paused, noticing his anger got the best of him and stopped, bowing his head to the person he bumped into, "Sorry."
The man turned his way, bearded lips pursed in a frown. "Is something wrong? You sure look pretty fucking edgy for a little kid."
"I'm not edgy." Gon responded but then realized his mistake. He was edgy. But it was none of this guys' business, either ways. "I'm just not having a good day is all."
"Couldn't make a good deal with that asshole could yah?" A laugh. "Neither could I earlier but I think this time might be a better bet."
"That's nice." Gon turned to leave but he underestimated how tense he truly was and the unintentional popping of his wrist caused the rings in his hand to fall, clattering to the floor loud like a bell ringing. The man next to him opened his mouth, brow upturned and a smile graced his lips at the sight of two shiny jewelry Gon was bending over to retrieve with a low whistle.
"Nice rings, kid. Where did you get them sweet pieces from?"
"My Aunt." He answered and almost regretted it, revealing his own painful lie to a complete stranger, "Gave them to me as a gift."
"Is that why you are here?Were you trying to barter those off to that ass over there?"
His thumb was pointed over at the bulky guy still poised in his seat, completely unscathed by the mess Gon left behind. His face was etched with thick lines, emotionless and unbending and Gon felt a shiver go up his spine at the way it hadn't changed. It wasn't natural.
"Yeah. I was." He relented and the stranger nodded his head in understanding. "But they don't take real-world items."
"Want to sell them to me?"
"What?"
Gon had to do a double take, blinking slow and breathing quietly as his sight crept up, straight into this newcomers face. He was shaggy and his chestnut eyes were crusty with white stuff like the scabbed edges around his lips and the bits of dried blood below his nostrils and Gon immediately recognized the signs before they could speak for themselves.
"Want to sell them to me? I think I can make a deal that might be worth your while." The man with the stoned face said and Gon thrust over the rings without a second thought that it startled the guy, throwing him off balance.
"Yes, please, yes!"
A grin overtook the hairy, prominent beard on the person's face and Gon beamed, knowing hope really was shining on him, if even for a moment, once more.
It was the turning point in Gon's Greed Island tale that affected him from there on out.
"Nothing comes for free, punk, so what do you got to offer?"
Gon stood before a group of young men; presumably all in their mid-twenties, maybe older, somewhere between the cramped alleyways of the infamous Masadora bar and accessory card store. Gon wasn't a good judge of character nor age like Killua was and that was why he left the scrutinizing to his snowy-haired friend.
He didn't come tonight with his friend, however.
Standing alone, Gon felt small beneath their stony gazes; hard and calculating and rusted over white with drugs and Gon breathed in a hard whiff of the sweet scent. He missed the bleach smell, flowers and vines dripping honey and pine-trees and all the goodness of home Gon associated with – He found them in this drug. Although Gon was on the short side himself, posing before a group of strangers certainly would have been awkward if it weren't for the smoke leaking from their noses or the specks of ash and powder forming rings around their lips and chins that urged Gon to draw closer.
And experience just a taste of the good life, again.
"I- uh, I have a lot of money on me." started Gon, voice jittery and unstable. He was shuffling on the balls of his feet, trying to will away the nervousness and find his bravado again, but it seemed to had fled somewhere between the time he entered Greed Island to his defeat up until now. "Well, quite a bit anyway. Greed Island money. I figured that would be enough."
"Hah!" One adult barked and Gon inwardly cringed, "Did you hear that guys? This kid thinks he has enough Greed Island dough to settle with us?! Ain't he a riot?"
"Hahaha, fuck, wow, this kids' got guts alright!"
"Fucking crack job!"
"What an idiot!"
"Moron!"
"Fucking dumb ass!"
"Shut up!" Gon's loud, strangled cry tore through the air and all but a constant tidal wave of laughter followed, relentless.
"Well, kiddo." The first one to speak cleared his throat past his chuckles, Gon holding back on a surge of tears as he clenched the sides of his shorts with strangling force. The others still continued to laugh, all around him like sinful echos and Gon wished above all they would just shut up and let him think properly, what with the men snapping up an uproar and his emotions swirling like a hurricane in his chest. He was ready to explode and take them all down with him if need be. "Someone sure has a lot of gusto tonight, must I say! Confronting us so suddenly with that meager amount of crap you have and you expect us to give you the prize. Am I right?"
Gon didn't nod, simply narrowing his eyes and reaffirming his challenging stare down with whom he believed to be the supposed leader. He was the tallest and broadest of the bunch after all. "I just want to buy some, sir, " Gon tried real hard not to replace the word with a harsh string of cuss words instead, "And then I'll be gone and you will no longer have to deal with me for the time being. But I won't give up until I leave with something, so I would appreciate it if you would settle some sort of deal with me at least."
"Sounds like a threat, my little boy."
"It can be if it must come down to that."
He actually did regret his own words that time; a full-blown mistake on his part, especially when Gon was shoved down to the ground by four sets of fists and two pairs of legs all crashing into him at once. He compared the feeling of their limbs like hammers, unforgiving as they all beat down at once and it was all Gon could do but curl up with his arms covering his head, his pathetic Ten doing nothing to alleviate the pain or the humiliation he faced.
He was determined to leave with something worthwhile, even at a price.
"Show me his face for a moment, guys."
Gon hardly registered the slurred voice of his tormentors because his skull was aching at how hard one man was gripping him by the hair, nails to the scalp, fingers digging into his head with violent force. He grit his teeth, reflexively reaching up to pry at the offending hand but two more people confiscated control over his arms and forced him to his knees, forced his head up and his eyes forward straight at the forefront man with large hands unzipping the fly of his jeans right before him.
A shudder wracked his frame and Gon averted his gaze to the left, avoiding the sound of a button popping open and a chuckle from the man who's face resembled nothing but sick satisfaction. Gon remembered that face and he dare not drink in a second sight of it.
"Hold him still guys and I think I can make this kid worth our while for a good payment, what do you say?"
Everything and everyone around was closing in and Gon refused to speak a sound and to his relief, he never did, not even once.
I'm sorry, Killua.
Staring at a backpack filled heavy made the dull ache of Gon's bruises tolerable, at least for a few nights hence. He laid curled up on his side, one arm cradling his prize and the other himself; clutching at the wounds and the scars he prayed would not plague him of nightmares just yet. Killua was beside him, sound asleep apparently, and Gon wanted nothing more then a hug, tear stains on his cheeks and teary crusts at his eyes.
Gon Freecs was so much stronger then this and still he was not. It was but a lie.
He promised he'd make it through this, by the end of Greed Island the least, if he could resolve to stay strong for a little while longer.
Life resumed to semi-normalcy. Gon avoided running into the same gang twice in this world, for they were all spiteful, all vengeful, all out for blood and Gon kept the slices in his flesh and the thick, purple bruises under wraps from prying eyes and a wary Killua. It'd be a disaster if Killua found out and Gon used any method possible to obtain his fix, especially when the first taste was a blissful awakening back to heaven – Light that Gon had experienced now only better and he was definitely never letting go again.
A steal card flashed in his hands and Gon laughed. It felt right in his palms and felt even better when he used it on a lonesome bystander who thought he could keep the scent of freshly chopped chestnuts and mint from his uncanny sense of smell. The bar beside them soaked in the scent of sex and booze was nothing compared to the scent of Meth and Gon was quick to steal it, ravish in ecstasy when he rubbed it against his mouth, inhaling deep, before exhaling out a puffy gray cloud of smoke with a groan.
It felt good to get high again.
And it was short lived.
Gon waved, half of his heart torn at watching Killua have to go but the other reassured that he was going simply because he needed to earn his Hunter's License and now was his last chance to enter before the deadline was over. There was a hurt in those sapphire irises Gon did not like seeing but he didn't say a word, content on keeping quiet for the time being and observe. Besides avoiding to alert suspicion, Gon didn't want to see him hurt by his actions or his lies. It would happen sooner or later but Gon prayed to prolong the inevitable.
Biscuit on the other hand, was another case.
She was wise and it was troublesome how tight her focus was. She was a dedicated Nen-teacher, even Wing could not compare how her knowledge and expertise stretched beyond her years and Gon was excited to be under the tutelage of someone who knew so much about Nen. He had been striving for so long to find his fix in the Hunter world and advancing himself in the world that was Nen was his forth-coming.
It was Biscuit who guided him into developing his Rock-paper-scissors technique, Gon's lips twisting in varying smiles and frowns whenever he witnessed his own display of power at his fingertips. Some days he would spend in secrecy, back pressed against the cold alleyways with pathetic souls sprawled at his knees, fist raised aglow with obscene power. His awakening to this strange, otherworldly force was a breathtaking sight to behold; how the orange and yellow hues gleamed, red and fierce and angry and coated with blood. Gon found destruction and chaos easier then reasoning and idle threats, because his words were already empty when he smashed some weird druggie's face in and Gon felt the emptiness all the way to the pit of his stomach.
You're insane.
A violent streak embraced him and Gon was tired of wasting his breath and how there was nothing left but a numbness in his chest; a malevolent chill down his spine. He felt lost, not soon after Killua left and he figured it'd be because he lost his crutch through this ordeal. Not just with how hard it had gotten to secure himself Meth in a virtual reality world, but the fading connection he had with his best friend. Killua was drifting and to watch him climb aboard and take that ship away, though temporary, made him feel lost.
"Gon. Relax."
Killua shook his head, hand clasped onto Gon's bony shoulder and he wordlessly motioned for Killua to come closer, just so he can place a chaste kiss on the underside of his jaw where he'd accidentally been elbowed from.
It was a silent apology after how rough Gon had been during their practice match and Killua faintly smiled, like he always did when he was forgiving Gon for his mistakes, and it made his chest ache more for how stupid he'd always been in believing he could be gentle when he was so doped up on drugs.
Gon had witnessed too many of these random outbursts of strength, of violent tendencies and lack of physical restraint. It was forming a habit he was not proud of and still Killua forgave him; the fifth time now and still kept smiling despite the pain.
"Relax." Killua tried again and Gon chewed on his lip, disappointment clear in his face.
"I'm sorry, Killua." He said, head bowed, body hunched; defeated as a dog. "I'll try better next time to watch my strength. Promise."
"Idiot. Don't sweat it. Besides, you shouldn't make promises that are too hard to keep, right?"
Killua leaned forward, his chapped lips dry against his cheek and Gon smiled, forced and fake.
"Yeah. I know."
Biscuit was the only one however who could not drop it. She was on Gon every time he stepped out of bounds, every time he moved too far forward with an intent to inflict bodily harm and Biscuit was displeased as Gon was anxious. He moved like a machine, serious and gestures robotic sometimes and Gon could hardly tell the difference between what was him and what wasn't. There were times he'd lash out before he could comprehend his own will, staring straight into the discarded pile of tattered clothes and bloody skin lying at his feet the next.
White powdered cigar in hand, every single time.
Gon's sense of normalcy was out of balance. He was stumbling and once Killua was gone, no longer there to whack him with a hiss when he was acting irrational, Gon was losing control and falling.
His smokes weren't doing the trick and the high he sought after was always just out of reach.
"If you can't lighten up, Gon, I'm not sure we can keep up this training regime anymore."
Biscuit frowned, Gon's chest heavy and his ears ringing when he saw how solemn her facial expression was; peering down at him with dull, fuchsia eyes. Gon loathed himself more, wishing he could escape her gaze; her sad, sad eyes. And Gon loathed it, very, very much.
"I'm sorry, Bisky."
Gon knelt low, examining the dead body of the older woman; the lines in her face taut like puppet strings even in death. She was controlled, calculating, and Gon liked that about her when they first met; agreeing to keep their transactions as discreet as possible. Gon provided a sum of cash and certain numbered cards and she would supply him. It was must easier to go through her then many of the unruly men he dealt with; all horny as fuck and speaking through the brain in their pants, not their heads.
Gon hated it and after one too many unwanted encounters he was fearing that the dirt, the stench, and all the icky grime would never come clean and Gon settled for the hefty price of dealing with this she-wolf then groups of perverted older men.
Her name was Lynn and she was as easy going as a porcupine fish with its needles always exposed.
And the formalities between then never escalated to his preference. He kind of wished he hadn't snapped and killed her when she was on another one of her scary outbursts. She screamed in a rage, like she always did, and Gon was so eerily silent it scared even him. All he had seen was white, then black, and her carcass at his feet, rotted and gross with blood and strands of her brown hair fanned against the gray cement.
He realized then, that whatever was growing inside of him; this insatiable desire untamed by the constant surge of Methamphetamine in his system, wasn't going to go away.
Gon wiped the blood off his hands with his ripped tank top, discarded the remains of his saturated clothes over her body before it fizzled out of existence and took the material with it.
In nothing but his boxers and boots, he walked away without a word.
Gon hit the breaking point when his last and only available supplier informed him that they were leaving the game. It was all fake laughter and taunts when they passed him that a bag with a official notice slipped inside and Gon slumped, defeated. Biscuit thought something was wrong, then, and in her motherly sort-of way, she tried to console him for whatever problems he was having, but Gon was ignorant and Biscuit left him be; a little more broken and a little more upset. It was evident in her expression, Gon clutching the folds of his shirt with a painful swallow.
As if he wasn't facing enough already. He was at the end of his rope.
One last bag to go and it was all over for Gon in his mind.
Traumatized, Gon swore to himself he would make this and the final bag last. He pulled out the first cigarette and lit the tip of his rolled up joint with his Nen, a dying promise on his lips floating away in the breeze of a congested smoke cloud.
He woke up the next morning with an empty back pack and blood in his mouth, his nose, and all over his shirt; crestfallen.
Biscuit sighed, her gloved hand squeezing Gon's tense shoulder blade.
"Gon, please, won't you talk to me?"
Disconnected, his amber eyes stared fixedly out at nowhere and shook his head.
"I'm okay."
"You and I both know you aren't okay. Is it because Killua's not here right now?"
"I miss him." said Gon, words hollow in his throat.
"You and I both."
Pushing himself to his feet, Gon strode away and Biscuit remained still, head lulled to the side with a mumble. "You don't have to lie to me though, you know, Gon."
"I know."
"You say that an awful lot lately."
"Is there something else Bisky wants me to say, then?"
A questioning glance sent shivers down the blonde woman's back and she pushed to her feet, standing beside him with both gloved hands now clasped at his shoulders, tight.
"I want you to tell me what's going on with you this past few days. You've been really off, acting one way one moment and different the next. What's going on Gon?"
There was an awful energy emanating from Gon and Biscuit tried in vain to ignore it. It was creeping upon her steadily, like worms and beetles and snakes slithering their way up her legs and grasping hold; squeezing angry and ruthless. But it was growing and there was a flash of Nen across her vision until a fist swung and it was only thanks to her years of experience and training that she caught it in time before it could clip her. The power behind it rumbled through her bones and Gon instantly drew back as if he had never even tried to strike her down, full force and intent.
"It's nothing."
He walked away and Biscuit wished she hadn't let him.
"There's gaps in your memory."
"Huh?"
Gon turned, not more then an hour later before dinner and Biscuit shrugged a shoulder, nonchalant.
"I think you've got some kind of memory problem, Gon."
"Memory problem?"
"Do you even remember what you had for breakfast this morning?"
"Eggs and toast..?"
"Wrong. I made you pancakes."
"Oh."
Gon looked down, shook his head, and exited the cave without a word; leaving Biscuit to sigh with her fists digging into her hip bones and all her hopes dying on the wind.
Back to reality, Gon stared at the needle in his hand as he crouched low; the alley around him eerie, like a haunted house only condensed into a thin strip of land sandwiched between two high, looming walls. There was heavy footsteps all around him, echoing on the slick plaster walls where rain seeped through cracks and holes. The wall cried, the droplets of dew leaking down like tears and Gon flinched away from the somber feeling, immersed in the sloshing liquid contained within a narrow, plastic tube.
He swallowed.
Can I do this?
He flipped the needle between his fingers a few times experimentally, flashes of his memory fading in and out. Reality felt so weird; one moment he'd be hearing one conversation across the wall and it would quickly change to the next. He'd be breathing and suddenly he would not, he'd be holding his breath in anticipation and Gon's shoulders shook all the way to his fingertips, rattling. Gon wasn't entirely sure who or what was going on; his mind acting in spurts, as he pushed and pulled the needle back and forth, uncertain.
Should I do this?
There was a blank then, Gon dropped the needle once and wondered where the hell he even got a needle full of liquid from – Only to pick it up a split second later and half his face split to grin, the head of the needle kissing the inner skin of his wrist.
What's wrong with me?
His fist slammed down, out of the blue, cracking the cement beneath. Bright crimson discolored the edges around his knuckles now bloody. Amber eyes drank in the sight of red there, bruising the bone underneath and Gon laughed.
It's going to be different now.
A switch. Flip. He lowered his arms and slunk against the side wall, blearily remembering all the times he'd been called coward for not trying a needle. How he couldn't drink down the idea of something much stronger. Just how smooth would it had been, to have but one taste at least?
I'm a fool.
There was some distance images in the back of his head, of Killua frowning behind him as he watched Gon swallow pill after pill, of endless amounts of drug and poison and Gon wished he'd never had to be there to witness the hurt and betrayal voiced in his best friend's soft, blue eyes.
Killua.
He convulsed for a moment, seizing up, then stiffened like an iron rod after. Numb fingertips brushed across the cold ground and lingered over the rim of the needle point, tracing it's edges before he made a grab, yanking it to the air and in one swing, stabbed down with grit teeth and eyes aflame with vengeance.
What the hell am I doing?
"Gon!"
Gon twisted at the shout of his name, his vision blurred, head spinning, and cracked a smile. His mouth must have moved at some point but the words never reached him. His own thoughts didn't even reach him, feeling as far away as his soul did. His mind was absolutely empty, like the hollow in his chest, the hull of his beaten, damaged heart.
Gon collapsed into the darkness shrouding across his lashes; a tear on his face and a smile still on his lips.
I don't care anymore.
And he fell, fearing that this was where he wouldn't ever get back up again.
He couldn't remembered if he ever did.