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Killua flopped down into his bed, the room dark, his door closed. Him and Gon had been roommates for a few months and Killua still refused to talk to him about any struggles he had. That was weak and Gon couldn’t see him as weak, he would ditch him, surely.
His heart yearned for Gon’s warm touch and gentle words, but his brain yelled at him to keep it down, stay low. He Hated himself for listening to it.
He was in one of his low points, which is what his therapist called his “episodes”. He’d be doing just fine and then, boom! Guess who’s gonna be randomly suicidal for a few weeks?
He hated this, all of it. Peacing out felt like the only easy, plausible option. He fought and fought against it, knowing that it would be something his soul would regret.
He couldn’t lose Gon, either. His death would be a pain in the ass for him, being one of the only people Killua trusts enough with his will. Alluka would hate him for it too. He couldn’t have them hate him, even if he had to lie. He couldn’t lose them like he was losing himself.
He fought and fought, scars marring his inner thighs and shoulders, where they could be easily concealed. He needed to feel something that wasn’t whatever the fuck he was feeling at that moment.
He needed to escape through something he wasn’t a stranger to; pain. Pain and suffering and blood and… and what? And feeling? No, that can’t be it, he thought. He wasn’t used to feeling what he was feeling. That was much too dangerous. Too scary, although he would never admit that to himself.
He sniffed, tears running down his face in silence, maybe a quiet hiccup every now and then. He raised his hands up to his forearms, gripping them tightly as he squeezed his eyes shut. Pain blossomed from his shoulder, still raw from his fresh burns and cuts. He shuddered in pain, mental and physical and crawled out of his bed to the door, stiff holding his arm to his side.
He reached up to his bedroom door and paused, did he really want to take a chance? He took a deep breath and twisted the doorknob.
“Gon?...” he called out into the living room of their apartment.
Gon's spiky head of green-black hair popped up from the couch, “Oh, hey Killua! You okay?”
The question was simple, easy, he could do this.
“Yeah,” he lied. Fuck.
Gon raised an eyebrow and looked to his hand covering his shoulder, his long sleeve covering it up fully anyway, “Really?” he asked.
Gone was simple as far as people go but he could tell if something was wrong with someone by just a glance.
Killua gulped and looked down at his feet. He was wearing his fluffy cat socks that night, “... No,” he admitted, a tear falling to the hardwood floor.
Although he wasn’t looking, he knew that Gon was frowning. He heard soft footsteps coming in his direction, “Hey, what's wrong? Tell me,” Gon irked, placing his hand over Killua’s.
Killua sniffed and wiped his nose with his sleeve, “you’d think it’s stupid,” he mumbled, his voice cracking.
Gon took him by the chin and lifted his head so that they made eye-contact, “nothing that has to do with you is stupid,” he whispered, pulling him into a hug. “If you don’t want to talk about it right now, that's fine, but please tell me at some point. Okay?”
Killua nodded and shoved his head underneath Gon’s chin, crying into his collarbone. Gon’s calloused hands rubbed his back up and down, up and down. He moved them to the coach to lay down.
Gon whispered soft words to him and hummed soothing melodies in his ear. Killua sighed in content, his crying stopped. He lifted his head up to look Gon in the eyes, “I don’t know how to say this, but… I think I love you,” he whispered.
Gon smiled, a warm smile, “I know I love you, so much. I’m here if you need me, always,” he gave him a short kiss on the forehead.
Killua blushed and smiled softly, what he had been going through was forgotten for that moment, his sadness overridden by the feeling of warmth that engulfed him when laying in Gon’s arm.