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Gon stared at the blank paper and it stared back at him.
He didn’t know what to write. His fingers bounced on the table as he blankly eyed the small paper card in front of him. The wind was blowing softly on his face from the open kitchen window, the sun shone brightly outside, everything smelled good and it all looked like today should be a day for everyone to relax and enjoy the breeze. But he wasn’t relaxed and much less enjoying anything. He wasn’t because no matter how hard he looked at the empty letter, no matter how hard he thought about it, tried to put it all together, the words wouldn’t come out of his brain and imprint themselves on the white surface. It was driving him insane.
Gon grabbed his face and let out a long, exasperated sigh, the kind Killua would give him when he wasn’t able to solve a simple maths problem. This was worse than any homework his aunt had tried to put him through.
Focus. Find something. Write something . Anything! Come on you idiot! He chanted in his head, trying to picture Killua scolding him, focusing on the way the boy scrunched his blue eyes, frowned his brows, and pointed an accusing finger. Gon actually wished Killua had scolded him for good before they separated. It had been a little while since then, but he still couldn’t get any of it out of his head. There he was, back on Whale Island, but his mind was still travelling, running circles really far from here. Running around Killua, bouncing, trying to tell him. To show him . But whenever he spoke, it came out wrong. It was like every time he tried to express his feelings his words jumped all over the place like a bunch of lost foxbear cubs, and in the end what he meant got lost in the bushes of his head.
As he sat there, silently pestering against himself, the bells on the window frame rang, gently swayed by the wind. Almost subconsciously, Gon looked up. The sky was a gorgeous, intense blue outside, with a few fluffy white clouds sticking out in tufts here and there. Usually he would have been able to spot a ton of different creatures amongst the clouds, but today the shapes seemed indecisive. Exasperated by the task in front of him, Gon decided to blankly stare at the sky instead. It made no difference, the clouds were just as white and shapeless as the letter he was trying to write. He watched in silence, getting lost in thoughts as the air currents mindlessly blew them away.
Eventually, his eyes took in the books sitting on the counter underneath the window, and a wind chime rang.
“A dictionary!” Gon sprung up from his seat like a startled frog, and bounced to the book pile. He demolished it, looking for the one thing he was after. After a few minutes of figuring out what was what- reading had never been his forte- he managed to find that one red and green book he feared so much as a little kid. The dictionary. The one Mito used to bump onto his head whenever he made a spelling mistake or spaced out during the short lessons she managed to fit into his adventure-filled schedule. This time though, Gon thanked the skies for having created a book with all the words he could never fathom on his own, and with an included explanation of what they meant as well! He eagerly opened his new found treasure, ready to finally do something smart.
Unfortunately, the wind swayed the pages and his hope along with it.
How could he find what he wanted when he didn’t actually know what he was looking for? How was he supposed to look up a word that expressed his feelings if he both didn’t know what his feelings were and had no clue what words expressed them correctly? This was going to take a while, for sure.
Gon sighed and closed the book, casting a look back at the table, the chair, the empty letter, and the single pen waiting next to it. He couldn’t do it. His eyes fell back onto the cloud cluster floating high in the blue sky. There was a big, messy shape that didn’t make any sense. A messy, fluffy, chaotic shape that started to get polished by the wind, sculpted sway after sway, every time the bells hanging from the window jingled. Gon never stopped watching, trying to learn what he could from nature itself. It had always been his way of doing things. That’s how he’d learned to fish, hunt, hide, track, and fight. He needed to experience things first hand in order to understand them. It felt scary to try expressing himself in a way that seemed so unnatural and complicated to him. His love language had always been through showing rather than telling . But he’d batted around the bush too much when Killua was there and now he was having to deal with the consequences. It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried to express what he felt! He had tried. Several times. But somehow it always came out a little too far from what he actually meant to say, or it just sounded too lighthearted. “You’re my best friend.” “I like having you by my side.” “I think you’re so cool.” All true, but not close enough to the real truth: You’re my everything. I want you by my side forever. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
Gon stayed still as stone, until the clouds finally merged into one. They formed a singular shape: a heart. Promptly though, the wind blew again and the cloud parted in two. Gon took it as his cue to do something. He didn't want to be like that cloud any longer. He’d waited around too long doing nothing and in the end he and Killua had parted ways. He wanted to fix that. More than anything, he wanted to make sure Killua understood how much he mattered to him.
Feeling a wave of sudden motivation overcome him, Gon seized the dictionary, the letter and his pen, and climbed up to his room. Once up there he set everything down on the table and got to work. He flipped through pages and pages, trying to rule out the words he already knew the meanings of -which weren’t numerous- and to focus on the complex looking ones to try and find the perfect words. The words that would glue the heart cloud back together. He started making a list, word after word, minute after minute, of what he felt reflected his emotions the best, (and sounded the smartest): adoration, desiderium, infatuation, kairosclerosis, longing, passion, sehnsucht, yearning…
Someone knocked on the door.
“Gon? Tesoro, it's getting late. Is there anything you want for dinner?” Mito pushed the door softly and her red hair reflected the moonlight piercing through the window. Gon snapped back to reality; he hadn’t realised it had gotten so late. Mito sighed and came in.
“You should turn on the light, it’s bad for your eyes to read in the dark.” She said as she turned on the little lamp on his desk.
“I’m surprised you’re reading. What book is it?” She casted a glance over his shoulder and her eyes widened in surprise. “A dictionary? Sweetie what for? You don’t need to hammer all those words into your head like that to get smarter, it’s alright to learn in your own way, you don’t have t-”
“It’s not for me.”
“Huh?”
Gon pointed at the still painfully empty letter on his desk, “It’s not for me.”
The woman next to him stayed silent for a while, eyes sliding back and forth between her protégé, the letter, and the lengthy list as Gon felt himself becoming more and more nervous. He wasn’t sure why.
“Is it for Killua?” His aunt finally asked.
“Yes…” Was all Gon could mutter in response. He felt stupid, sitting there, tugging at his shorts like they were magically going to drape over him and allow him to disappear like a kiriko in a crowd.
“Gon, look at me.”
He turned around and looked up. His aunt’s hand came to stroke the side of his face, one of her maternal movements that proved she was the only one worthy of being called his mother. “You don’t need all those complicated words to express it. Just tell Killua what you would tell me. Say it to him like you say things to me when you feel like you can’t explain them.” She ran her thumb on his cheekbone gently. “You always were great at getting your point across, even as a little kid. When you felt happy you’d look up at me with your big baby eyes, and say ‘I want to hug you really tight!’.” She squeezed his cheek and smiled, forcing a chuckle out of him.
“And likewise, when you were sad, you’d simply say ‘Zia , I want to cry.’” Her eyes softened and her hand dropped to his shoulder. “This is the same. Whatever is on your heart, say it. It doesn’t have to be long, and it doesn’t have to be a complicated poem full of words he won’t know half of. Just tell him, sweetie.” She kissed his forehead, rubbed his back swiftly, and added that she was going to make gnocchi and vegetables for dinner and that she’d call him down when it was ready. Gon simply nodded.
Once the door was closed he casted a look at the still painfully empty letter, and the ink pen next to it, already building up dust. He pondered what his aunt had told him. What did he want Killua to know the most? What was it that could convey everything without having to be explained over and over again? He shook his head and pushed the dictionary and list to the side. After a deep breath, he slid the letter in front of him, and seized his pen.
Just tell him.
***
Killua was having breakfast when he read the only line of ink jotted down on the carded paper. Instantly, he choked on his milk, flipped the butter over with his elbow, and turned as red as the strawberries on his plate.
“Big bro? Is everything all right?” Alluka asked worriedly, a hand still on her pastry.
“Y-yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” Killua managed to articulate, his clear blue eyes glued onto the words in his palm. He read it again, just to make sure. Then he read it once more, just to be utterly, completely sure that his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. But every time, the words remained the same, in the exact same order, behind the exact same swarm of fuzzy butterflies in his belly. There, in his palm, was a letter containing a small green leaf, and Gon’s handwriting.
“I want to kiss you.”