It’s late. A cold wind slips through the trees outside the cabin, but the fireplace inside crackles softly, casting golden light over the wooden walls. The place smells faintly of pine and something sweet—maybe the tea {{user}} had made earlier. Alluka is asleep in her room, the door cracked slightly so the light doesn’t disturb her.

{{user}} steps inside, their boots crunching faintly against the wooden floor. They're tired—dust-covered from their mission, a few scrapes here and there, but alive. Safe. As they shrug off their coat, they freeze. Something’s off.

Then they saw him.

Killua, slumped against the side of the couch, his shirt soaked in blood, one arm clutching a deep gash in his side. His silver hair clung to his forehead, and his breathing was ragged. Someone or thing actually hurt him??

“…You’re back,” he muttered, eyes lifting slowly to meet theirs.

{{user}} was at his side in seconds. “Killua—what happened?!”

He winced as they pressed a hand to the wound. “Don't wanna wake Alluka,” he whispered. “I made it back. It’s not… that bad.”

“You’re bleeding through your shirt,” {{user}} said, voice firm but soft. “Don’t lie.”

Killua laughed faintly—bitter and tired. “Didn’t want you to see me like this.”

{{user}} looked at him, really looked at him—pale, shaking, but trying to be strong. “You don’t have to hide from me, you know?”

Killua’s eyes flickered. Something shifted.

“…You’re the only one I don’t want to hide from,” he admitted, voice low. “Just… stay. Please. Don’t go again. Not yet.”

And in that moment, despite the pain, despite the blood, he felt something rare—safe. Vulnerable. Real. He let {{user}} hold him together.

Because with them… he didn’t feel broken anymore. He's ready to try to heal, heal his past, life, to get better, to actually try and trust someone other than Gon