In Killua's chambers, Gon occupied his time with physical activity. He assured himself he'd tidy up before any of the other servants visited and scolded him for sweating. The quiet of the castle unnerved Gon, made his palms cool to the touch. As time passed, Gon pushed himself harder, praying for an interruption, another distraction.
He couldn't get Killua's pained expression out of his head.
Gon paused in the middle of a push-up, lingering there until his shoulders released and he collapsed, chest first, to the floor. He pressed his cheek to the cold stone and released the air in his lungs. Something didn't feel right. He wanted to see Killua.
"What an interesting position," a honeyed voice sounded from the balcony, accompanied by a soft, playful tune. "You'll have to teach me."
Gon lifted his face, his skin prickling. Perched on the edge of the white railing, as if held up by strings, was Hisoka. With an outstretched hand and a sly smile, he leered down at Gon, the moon silhouetting him with pale light. Delicately, Hisoka dropped down to the balcony, adjusting his pose only to avoid damaging his lute.
"Hisoka," Gon said, pushing himself into a kneeling position. "What do you want?"
Pouting, Hisoka drew closer until he loomed over Gon, dwarfing him. "Why does everyone always suspect I want something?" he asked innocently enough, tilting his neck until it looked, from Gon's perspective, as if it were broken. As he stared down at Gon, he licked his lips, sending a tremor of disgust through Gon. "Now, while I love seeing you like that, wouldn't it be better to talk standing up?"
Without pausing to think, Gon leapt up from the floor to his feet, cold sweat forming at the back of his neck. Hisoka still towered over him, but the suggestive look in his eyes had dissipated. "If you want to talk, then talk," Gon said, planting his feet beneath his shoulders.
From Hisoka's vantage point, he noticed how rigidly Gon stood, how his hands remained by his sides, slightly open, as if he were prepared to grab whatever were close enough and make it into a weapon. Hisoka smiled and folded himself onto one of the chairs by the window, one leg tucked beneath. "You're rather close with young Killua, aren't you?" he prompted, tracing the seams of his leather shoes, flicking his eyes up to watch for a reaction. None came. Gon stared straight, his lips a firm line. "It's a wonder how that development occurred. A simple peasant from a faraway land, hired as a stableboy, promoted to personal servant. Quite a story."
"I'm lucky," Gon said, his voice lower, his tone controlled. The answer jerked Hisoka's head up. He concealed his own surprise by raising his eyebrows, as if asking for elaboration. "Killua was kind. That's all."
"'That's all?'" Hisoka repeated, enunciated the short syllables, allowing his lips to exaggerate. "Killua favors you, does he not? What a privilege."
"And Prince Illumi favors you; what's the difference?"
A delicious tightness wound inside of Hisoka's chest like a coiled spring, and he bit his bottom lip to control himself. He forced the air from his lungs and allowed his body to settle before speaking. "Our circumstances are much different, boy," Hisoka said. "You'll learn the difference one day. But that's unimportant."
Before Gon could react, Hisoka had lurched forward, seizing Gon by the collar, his long nails skimming along the tender skin of Gon's throat. Gon swallowed, but did not resist.
"Good boy," Hisoka purred, stroking Gon's hair with his free hand. His lute rested on the floor, momentarily forgotten. "What I've come to say is this: A day will come when the young king tires of you and casts you off."
"Killua would never." Gon stayed still, but his words were vehement, stinging with spittle and something even Hisoka couldn't place.
Pressing a finger to Gon's lips, Hisoka silenced him, the golden color of his eyes molten, glittering. "He will abandon you," he said. "You will come to bore him, and he will send you back to the streets from whence you came." Though Gon's stoicism had persisted, his eyes wavered, and Hisoka's grin grew. "Are you prepared to face that reality?"
"I…" Gon cast his gaze downward, submitting. His heart raced, and he brought a hand up to clutch at his chest, as though he could externally slow the beating.
"Gon," Hisoka said, in a voice that was almost tender. Gon lifted his face. "When he does, you can come to me. Keep that in mind. You will always have me to fall back on."
"But I— But Killua—"
As soon as Gon spoke Killua's name, he regained some sense and clarity, and he yanked himself away from Hisoka's hold, scraping the jester's nails along Gon's throat only enough to leave streaks of red, irritated flesh. He gripped his neck, and feeling no blood, turned eyes of fire and fury on Hisoka.
He crouched, at the foot of the bed, his eyes burning; Hisoka considered, for a moment, that the young man looked like a wild animal, and he almost took a step back.
But before Gon could move or speak, the door to Killua's chambers creaked, and Gon straightened, all traces of wild nature vanished. He turned back to mark Hisoka's location, but the man had already left, seizing his lute so violently a few discordant notes were the only indication he had even been there.
"Gon?" Killua pushed open the door almost tentatively. When he entered enough that the moonlight pooled at his feet and tangled in his hair. The pained look which dampened his eyes and tugged at his lips made Gon mute; with thoughts of Hisoka's dangerous claims in mind, Gon couldn't muster the courage to speak.
He didn't have to.
In the time that Gon blinked, restrained by his fears, Killua had raced toward him, embracing him so forcefully, Gon had to steady himself. With Killua's hands trembling against Gon's back and his face pressed against Gon's chest, Gon didn't think, just wrapped his arms around Killua and pulled him even closer.
"I have to go." Killua's voice was muffled, but the words were clear enough. Gon pulled away only enough to prompt Killua to look up.
"What do you mean?" Gon asked in a softer tone, as though he were speaking to a wounded creature.
It was Killua who broke the embrace, wiping at the corners of his eyes as he moved to his wardrobe. "I have to leave. Now."
"Where? What's wrong?"
"I'm running away."
Gon paused for a moment, studying Killua's back—the stiffness of the muscles, the frantic motion of his arms—before nodding. "I'll get the horses."
Killua hesitated, his hands still clutching a tunic. "Are you coming with me?"
"Of course."
A sudden panic fluttered in Killua's chest, and he paced closer to Gon, fear in his eyes. "If anyone in the castle finds out, you'll be tried for treason. Do you understand? I can't ask you to do that. You could be killed."
"I'm not doing this as your servant or as a member of this kingdom," Gon said, clasping Killua's hands together and spreading warmth to the cold fingers. "I'm doing this as your friend. Now, hurry. Pack your things. I'll gather supplies and ready the horses."
As Gon turned to go, filled with a newfound sense of determination which nearly washed away the doubt Hisoka had instilled, Killua reached out, snagging his shirt sleeve. Gon said nothing, just turned his face.
"Gon, I… I can't ride a horse."
Gon blinked. "What?"
"I never learned how," Killua confessed, his cheeks burning. "Father said it wasn't important at the time, and I've had other things to learn like scaling and archery and—"
Placing a hand on Killua's shoulder, Gon responded with the brightest smile he could muster, and Killua felt the shame and fear ease from his body, if only a little. "You can ride with me," Gon said. "I'll teach you when we're in the forest."
"The forest?"
"Where else would we run to?"
Killua nodded, then released his hold on Gon's shirt. Before he resumed his search for items to pack, he said, "Thank you, Gon. For everything."
"I haven't even done anything yet," Gon said, laughing.
"Still," Killua said, pouting. "You've done a lot. More than I could ever ask for."
Gon's smile suddenly felt forced, but he maintained it anyway. "That's just what friends are for," he said. "Now finish packing, and meet me in the stables. Be quiet about it."
"For a stableboy," Killua mused, "you sure have a lot of nerve, ordering me around all the time." He grinned, his eyes crinkling to show sincerity.
Gon shrugged and turned to leave. "I suppose I get it from my family," he joked, waving over his shoulder before pulling the chamber door shut behind him.