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Following behind Gon was what Killua was best at. Killua often felt lost, but the blinding light of Gon shone the way. And, sure, Killua had his issues, but did they even matter? When they were together, everything was okay. Even if it meant lost sleep, or horrible injuries, it was okay, as long as they were together. Gon wouldn’t leave him. It’d always be them together, because Gon was the one who found him.
Back when he’d known nothing but pain, Gon had lifted him up, saved him from himself. And honestly, Killua himself didn’t really matter. What mattered was Gon. He hadn’t protected him before, but maybe just this once, Killua could do something. After all, what was he worth without Gon? And maybe this type of obsession wasn’t the best for either of them, but did it really matter? It worked. Gon had someone to stop him from doing stupid shit, and Killua had someone to follow. After all, Killua only wanted one thing. To be by Gon, to just be with him, was enough for Killua.
Gon kept him grounded, kept him for going insane from bloodlust. Honestly, Killua didn’t think he could live without him. Why would Killua live without him? All he’d cause would be death and destruction, but Gon. Gon made people smile. Gon helped the old women cross the street. Gon was perfection himself. In the end, without Gon, Killua was just garbage.
And yeah, it wasn’t the best situation, but it was fine. Everything was fine. Gon would be fine. Even if Killua had to leave, Gon was fine. Without Killua, Gon shone just as brightly as he had before. Gon was the sun, bringing life and joy to the world. Killua was the moon, simply reflecting the sun’s brightness. Without Gon, Killua wouldn’t know what to do. He’d probably go back to his parents, then. He had to stay strong, to stay calm, for Gon.
Controlling his bloodlust was probably the hardest part of being with Gon. Illumi really hadn’t been lying about wondering if he could kill Gon. He’d never go through with it, but sometimes, it just scratched an itch. To hold a knife to Gon’s throat, and know that if he wanted to, he could end it. End the joyous, perfect being that was Gon. He’d never do it, no matter how much the Illumi in his head wanted to. For himself, that was another matter.
It was second nature, really, to be bleeding. In most of his childhood memories, someone was bleeding. Whether it be him, Illumi, Milluki, Alluka, or Kalluto. No matter how much he talked about Kalluto being babied, the torture they all endured was part of life for him too. Soon, Kalluto would start taking joy in his killings. To savor the end of the life on his blade. Soon, too soon, Kalluto would start enjoying the torture. God, they were all fucked in the head, weren’t they? Soon, his little baby brother would relish the blood flowing from the cuts in whatever poor soul he was torturing’s body. And maybe, he’d start to turn the blade on himself, too.
Maybe Kalluto’d find someone to follow. Maybe Kalluto wouldn’t become a monster. He chuckled. Now, that was a funny thought. The little boy who’d started killing and torturing at the earliest age, the kindest of them all. He wondered if Kalluto was doing alright, if he was happy. Latest Killua’s heard; he’d joined up with the phantom troupe. God, that kid was insane. Age 10, joining a gang. His parents would’ve never let Killua join a gang. The privileges of the youngest, he supposed. God, he missed the days when he was happy.
Sure, he was happy with Gon, but he missed his family. Even though they’d hurt him, one of his fondest memories with his family was with Illumi. He checked the time. 2:41. God. He needed to get some sleep. Yeah, sleep’d be nice. He laid back in bed, eyes fixated on the sleeping boy on the bed beside him.