Gon Freecs was, unequivocally, extraordinarily odd.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Killua let out the breath he had held. It felt like he was breathing snow from a dream, where all physics deviated and common sense was unnatural and rare.
“Why?” Killua, soft snow in his lungs, asked.
“I can just feel it.” Gon replied, and he glowed. He glowed like the stars got swallowed into his smile, he glowed like the world was only dimmed in shadow because he was there to cast it with his light, he glowed like magic straight out of a children's fantasy book. It didn't matter that he was tired, soul one foot somewhere else, somewhere Killua saw many times but never touched, it never mattered. Gon was captivating the way sunrises were, filling him and wrapping strings around his soul, honeydew syrup heavy in his throat. “For four years, Killua, I've been looking for yo—ugghgg!”
He couldn't take it anymore, fuck curiosity. Killua had the shower head faucet open at full capacity straight into that stupid anomaly’s face. It got in his mouth, his pretty eyes, into his hair— Gon reached behind him for the second head, and Killua got drenched.
Chapter eight is here!! 🥳🥳🎉🎉🎉