"I've been sitting in this chair for four hours. I'd do it four more. You do mumble in your sleep, though. I'm not going to tell you what you said." partially because Gon missed some of it, drifting in and out himself in small bouts of sleep between making sure to change the cloth keeping Killua's temperature down and that he has everything he may need in case he wakes up for more than a few minutes at a time. Like right now -- a cup of tea that is just right in terms of warmth and some easy on the stomach snacks.
❝ i do not. don't you know lying is bad? ❞
& he’s sticking out his tongue, defiant & a tad bit sulky, if he’s to be completely transparent with himself. killua isn’t the kind of person to find solace in stillness ; his life had been lived upon a knife’s edge, always moving, always aware. where gon might have been told to rest & recuperate when sick, killua had learned to walk it off. illness is a display of weakness, & any visible weakness gets you killed.
gon’s concern, though flattering, is 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐥 for killua, & it’s a little [ … ] disconcerting. how is he supposed to handle this sort of care when it prickles at his very skin with a strange sort of unease?
arms cross, & he’s elbowing gon in the side, none too gentle. ❝ ugh. how long are you planning to confine me to bed rest anyway? don't you understand that i know my own limits?! ❞
domestic starter prompts. answered.















