The one person Killua fears loosing against most -- is himself.
Written as a gift-fic. All comments and critisim welcome.
He'd waited until Gon had trained himself into unconsciousness, celebrating the return of his nen. (the coward's way out, of course, but what was he if not a coward?) It was only luck that Gon was too ecstatic (too trusting, too stupid, too much of everything) to notice that Killua was conserving his strength and only pretending to be worn out.
"Come on, let's sleep," Gon had mumbled drowsily from his pallet, "You don't have to look out for me anymore." So Killua had smiled and flopped down next to Gon and listened with an ever tightening chest as Gon's breathing became even and deep with sleep.
He hadn't wanted to move from that spot, not then and not ever. To spend the rest of his life listening to Gon snore, to forever have that warmth within arms reach---there was nothing he wanted more.
But the time had come (too fast, too fast, thirty day wasn't long enough, forever wasn't long enough) and Killua only had this last obligation to fill. He'd left no explanations behind, like Biske had ordered, only the belongings that would slow him down.
And now he ran between the trees; quick and silent through darkness that was so familiar to him, leaving no trail for Gon to follow.
Because that's what Gon will do. Follow him and drag him back and trust him until Killua's heart breaks from the weight of it, or his weakness gets Gon killed. (because he never fights a fight he can't win and he can't win against himself, he can't, he can't)
So, he'll have to hide. He's no Gin, but Killua knows how to vanish without a trace and he only has to do it for a little while. Just long enough for Gon to realize that he's better off without him.
And when that time came, he would return home. After all, where else was there for him to go?
He chews on his thumb, feeling the shape of the tiny scar on it with his tongue. So much more meaningful than the numerous other scars that mar his body. Father had known, of course; he had known all along.
The smirk that twists Killua's lips is almost painful.
It doesn't matter. He had his happiness; for one year he learned what light and laughter was and he'll always remember it, even when Gon forgets. But for now he will return to the cold shadows, to the screams of the dieing and the sticky blood of nameless victims between his fingers. To the family that asks nothing of him but his loyalty and his ruthlessness.
Because it's better to run than fail.
Better to run.