A long, out of tune horn spliced through the silence of first light. Hordes of brightly dressed people poured onto the dock from the large boat, milling about aimlessly and adding the sounds of intertwining chatter to the sleeping world they had arrived in. An air of excitement filled their midst, claiming the atmosphere each way they ventured.
Just beyond the loading docks (upon the sandy and mildly inclined shoreline) sat two boys. Neither spoke, each with a different string of thoughts possessing his mind and posture. The silver haired boy's knees were clutched to his chest, folded arms encasing them. His chin was lowered and tucked away from sight as he pondered his predicament. Anxiety and unrelenting torment seeped from his very flesh they seemed so unnaturally animate, with a fixed knot of guilt acting as the shackles which bound these things together as one entity. Guilt he knew not what was for, but nevertheless a definite sheath of guilt.
The second boy's thoughts were perhaps a little more concrete. His tanned legs were crossed at the ankles, leaving a reasonable platform with which to set his limp hands and elbows. The small stirring of crustacean life around the banks and in the sand borrowed the focus of his brown eyes while his mind worked to connect the dots of the days past. He pondered the legitimacy of L.I.G.H.T., of Haku and Misaki, and of his and Killua's current strategy. He considered his friend's sudden imbalance, and struggled to uncover its inspiration.
"Killua…"
His voice was ridden with a small sense of guilt that, having been feeling a similar sensation himself, the blue eyed boy glanced up in response to.
"I've been thinking… L.I.G.H.T. is not pretend. A bunch of people died on the island… They didn't know about Tanzanite, but those people who showed up after did."
Killua said nothing, only listened.
"So if L.I.G.H.T. is real, that means that the under water volcano is real. Everyone could really die."
'I could endure anything with you…' Killua thought, fighting to ignore his overwhelming misery.
"…And if people really could die, then I think we have a responsibility to at least try to save them."
'…Even the fires of hell. I'd sacrifice myself to save you from the beaks that would threaten to pick your flesh…'
"We shouldn't just run away, Killua."
The former assassin now lifted his chin, arching his neck in his comrade's direction. Perhaps Gon's words could have seemed motivational to him had they not been spoken so softly and skeptically. He was being cautious because of Killua's fragile emotional state, and the boy recognized this. Unfortunately this served to feed into his shroud of self pity, reminding him that he was weak and needed careful approach in order to lessen the risk of setting him off or breaking him entirely.
'No… only I will go to hell. Gon… you shine too brightly for a world born of darkness…'
The brown eyes were gentle and pleading. It was then that the paler boy understood the nature of his partner's speech; that he was not simply requesting that the two linger at their present location rather than escape to no-man's-land. It was not at all a suggestion for them as a pair, but to Killua as an individual.
'You're staying,' he realized with a painful tightening within his already damaged mind. 'You're staying here even if I'm not…'
"Gon…"
Even Gon would leave him eventually, he now comprehended. Gon would disappear, and he would be forever alone. No, not alone…because Illumi would never allow it. Illumi would always remain. He could die, and somehow Illumi's curse would follow him even into the lowliest pits of the underworld, or lie in waiting to consume him if so he managed to land there first.
Only the damned could ever truly eternally dwell amongst the damned, perhaps.
If Killua had not felt so formidably burnt out on his fate, he might have wept. Instead, his muscles clenched against his will, slowly wearing on his body the way his emotions and thoughts had been draining the strength of his mental capacity.
"I want you to stay with me," Gon said, his voice braver than before. "Fight with me, Killua."
…But he wanted him to stay. Did that change the scenario?
Gon would not follow him if he escaped… but he did express his desire for the pair to cling to one another. Was he abandoning him? No… no, he was not.
'He's giving me a choice,' Killua realized, a warmth threatening to offend his cold and dismal mood. 'Gon is letting me have a choice instead of telling me what to do.'
Somehow this was almost enough. Perhaps not enough to dispel his agony, fear, or confused guilt… but enough to matter. Enough for him to matter…
Before he could escape it and allow himself to further wallow dreadfully and (in his opinion) righteously in a cesspool of shame and inherited liability, Gon's light had touched him. Once again, he was a moth drawn to the light, where ever it so traveled.
'A moth is still an insect,' he reminded himself through a small, sad smile.
"I'll fight with you, Gon."
The tanned boy's expression brightened and lifted.
"You will?"
"I will."
The dark haired boy beamed, leaning back into open palms and tenting his knees for the sake of comfort. His chin raised to intake the sight of the rising sun over the waves and distantly running white peaks of water.
"I'm so glad! I feel so lucky to have you as a friend, Killua!"
Killua followed his friend's gaze over the water, the sound of gulls seeking their meals reaching him as if from within a far away dream.
'You're wrong… I'm the one… who owes everything to you.'
The world was filthy, cold, and unforgiving… but… perhaps there was at least a chance to defy fate, if only slightly. If anyone could prove that with him, anyone at all, Killua knew that it was Gon.
'Let's do it. Let's defy the world. I can endure… anything with you.'
A/N: I've been feeling pretty low, the last couple of days especially, so I hope that my personal problems did not interrupt the flow of the story. I just felt that I could either write this chapter and try to channel it into my writing or risk abandoning this story altogether in order to wallow in my own self pity. Obviously the latter option would not be my first choice, so I can only hope that my emotions for the time being do not destroy the plot or characters. Please forgive me if I've done so unintentionally.
I apologize if this note is sounding more like a whiny diary entry than a relevant message. I just wanted to explain myself in case I'm viewing this chapter through tinted glasses and cannot see how out of place it might possibly be.