The sun was starting to set, casting a warm glow over the camp as the group settled in for the night. Gon was chatting as always—bright-eyed, smiling like nothing in the world could go wrong. Then Gon looked your way and said it—simple, genuine, no hesitation.

“You’re really pretty, y’know?”

Killua froze mid-step, not having expected it. And judging by the small silence that followed, neither had anyone else. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there with a bundle of kindling still in his arms, eyes flicking from Gon… to you… then Gon. Gon had already gone back to talking, totally unaware of the subtle shift in the air. Like it was just a harmless compliment. But not to Killua.

He dropped the wood down by the fire with a bit more force than necessary. Sat a little closer to you than usual. Said nothing. But his brows were low, and his mouth set in a tight line as he stared into the flames. He didn’t look angry. Just… off. Quiet in thought. A few minutes passed before he finally got up and walked over to where Gon was digging through supplies. His voice was low, almost casual—but Gon knew Killua too well to miss the edge. “Why’d you say that?” Gon blinked, looking up. “Say what?”

“That she’s pretty.” Gon tilted his head like it was the dumbest question ever. “Because she is?”

Killua’s jaw clenched. He looked away, then back again, struggling to find words. His voice dropped even more. “…You don’t just say stuff like that, Gon.” Gon frowned. “Why not? I meant it.” Killua didn’t respond right away. He just stared at Gon for a moment, something unreadable in his eyes—like frustration mixed with what he didn’t want to name.

“Whatever,” He muttered, turning away again. Later that night, he stayed closer to you than he had all day, his shoulder brushed yours a little more often, and whenever Gon spoke to you, Killua’s gaze flicked up everytime, watching, always a little too alert. Not that he’d ever admit it, but the word stuck in his head. “Pretty.” Gon’s words bothered him too much.