Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Gon realized he was looking a lot at the sky lately. Not that he had much else to do—after being lectured for what felt like years (and may have actually been years), then barred from leaving the Heavenly Realm for the next few centuries—he was back to spending his doldrum days lounging around, trying to discover something new, something interesting, but always coming up short.

To Gon, the human world was still preferable in that regard.

He didn’t remember much about his time there. From the dregs of his memories he knew there were a handful of humans who seemed to have left their mark on him but their figures blurred in his mind, like there had been one string tying it all together and that string had snapped, leaving everything to float in a void.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried to pick up the pieces. It wasn’t like he hadn’t attempted to scoop it back up only for it to fall apart in his arms. It was unfortunate, but his years upon years of searching for answers had bore him no fruit.

Gon had thought hard—well, as hard as he was able to—to no avail. He had used his magic. He had seen an oracle and a prophet, neither of which had anything useful to say. He had even gone as far as asking the Gods’ Association if they had anything to do with it, to which they had shook their heads and told him to go back to writing his lines, and then paid him no further attention.

If Gon had remembered, it might have made the punishment worth it. But as things were, he was grasping at straws, only recalling how he had arrived in the Heavenly Realm with the taste of something on his tongue, and nothing else.

His memories stayed under a solid lock and key. He had done everything in his power to open the box but the lid stayed stubbornly shut.

However, there were moments where he would find himself staring at the sky, at the blueness of it all, both during the daytime and during the nighttime, and his chest would hurt. It would hurt in a way that Gon couldn’t describe to anyone else—because somehow, he knew no one else would understand. It was a unique pain. The pain of longing, of reaching for something far away.

The sky made him feel like he was missing something important.

The stars and the moons at twilight would glimmer and his hand would instinctively clench against the grass. The clouds would drift over the horizon; white, fluffy, and airy, and his skin would echo the sensation of something similar against his cheeks. The blue coaxed something like feelings and emotions from him. It made his breath come shorter, made his heart flutter like dove wings. The ache would weigh on him as though berating him for forgetting, as though pointing in the distance and saying “there—he’s right there, how could you not see him?” and it made him desperately, desperately want—

“Gon? You alright?” Knuckle asked.

Gon snapped back to reality. “Sorry—what were you saying?”

Knuckle looked at him suspiciously. He also didn't take Gon’s transition. “It wasn’t anything important. Listen, Gon—I’ve been meaning to tell you this, but haven’t found the right time. Figure it may as well be now,” he said. He stretched his legs out onto the grass. “You’ve been acting pretty weird lately. I know you came back a few years ago, and you look the same, but something about you has changed.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. You’re different, somehow. You smell different.”

Gon laughed. “No I don’t!”

“You do!” his friend insisted. “I’ve got as good of a nose as anyone, and it's faint, but it's there. I’d bet half my lifespan that something from the human world made you like this.”

Gon shrugged. “There’s no way. I’m a god. There’s nothing in that dimension that could have changed me.”

Knuckle sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Change or not, I’m worried about you,” he said. “You’re distracted. I mean to begin with, you were always a bit distracted—but now, more so than usual. If my memory serves me correctly, you were different from us in that regard. Distracted, and never one for rules. You’d break them all the time. And sometimes, you’d even get away with it.”

“I only broke them because no one else would,” said Gon.

“Your stunt in the human world was the reason the Association passed a new law,” said Knuckle, chuckling. “Most of us stopped going to the human world eons and eons ago. But you’re still fascinated with the place.”

Gon twiddled his thumbs. “I just feel like there’s something waiting for me there,” he said. “There’s something about it which keeps drawing me in. It’s interesting. I can’t stay away.”

Knuckle snorted. “You’ve always liked interesting things. It’s just that—well—just take care of yourself, okay? I know there’s not as much to do here ever since the war ended, but you should take some time to yourself. You know, to relax. And if there’s anything I can do to help you, just let me know.”

Gon nodded. He looked up. The sky in the Heavenly Realm wasn’t supposed to look any different than it usually did, but at that moment, it was strangely beautiful.

Maybe Knuckle could help him with something.

“Hey,” Gon said. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure. You know you always can.”

“Do you...do you ever feel like you’re missing something?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Like...feelings. Emotions.”

“We do have feelings and emotions,” said Knuckle. “We carry those on from our past lives. Or do those not count?”

“It’s not that. It’s more like...you’re missing something you’ve felt before,” Gon continued, “But it’s impossible for you to have felt it.”

“How can you miss something you don’t even realize is missing?”

“I don’t know. Maybe if it's love.”

“Love?” Knuckle said slowly, rolling the foreign word on his tongue, “What’s that?”

Gon thought back to that starry night, when he and Kite had sat on the same hill that he and Knuckle were currently sitting on. The way Kite had smiled. The way he had moved the stars. The way his calm, soothing voice had spoken softly, wistfully.

“It’s a magic that has existed since the universe began,” said Gon, repeating the phrase from memory. “It’s older than godscript, more powerful than you or me. It's mysterious. Some wish they could get a taste of it, if only once in their lifetimes.”

“...Who’d you learn that from?”

Gon shuffled his feet against the grass. “Kite.”

“Ha. Kite was an odd one too,” Knuckle said quietly. “He would think about that sort of stuff all the time. Makes sense you would chase after that if your mentor did. You two were close after all.” He looked at Gon, eyes stern. “But no, I don’t think about that. I don’t feel like anything is missing from the life I have right now. I’m happy with the way things are, and with the way I know things will be. I’m content. I have no other desires, nothing to chase.”

There, his friend paused, his eyes a bit kinder. “But how about you, Gon? Do you feel like something is missing?”

Gon lied down on the hill. The breeze was warm against his skin. He closed his eyes, and tried to imagine being in love, loving someone, having that person love him.

“Yeah,” said Gon. “I think so.”

Gon was in the middle of writing his millionth set of lines (I will not leave the Heavenly Realm without permission, I will not leave the Heavenly Realm without permission, I will not leave the Heavenly Realm without permission) when the back of his neck prickled as though electricity were tracing over his skin. He shivered and nearly dropped the quill in his hand. The last line of “permission” looked less like a word and more like a scribble.

It had caught him off guard but it was a welcome distraction from his current task.

A new soul had appeared in dimension twelve.

A new god had been born.

Sure, there was no crunch in the air this time, but more important signs had been missed in past deity ascensions. Gon could barely keep his excitement contained. It had been so long since he had met a new god. He wondered what kind of past life they must have led—what amazing things they had accomplished, which dimension they had originally hailed from. What remarkable traits they had in order to be chosen.

The other gods would wait until their new god had passed through the gate to welcome them in.

Gon wasn’t one for waiting.

He looked briefly at his unfinished writing, and without a second thought, he scrambled upwards and bolted for the gate. His heart was racing in his chest. A laugh bubbled out of him.

Finally. Something interesting.

He sprinted through the meadows, took leap after leap over the rushing streams, weaved between the trees of the forests which sparkled with fresh morning rain—all whilst wondering how he should greet them. A simple hello? A wave? A smile? He wanted to be there immediately. He wanted to be the first one to introduce them to their new home. He would show them everything there was to see in the Heavenly Realm—show them the best spots to watch the sunrises and sunsets, teach them the best rivers to bathe in, the best mountains to scale to get closest to the moons.

He hoped they could be friends.

“Oi—Gon! Where are you going?” someone called to him, but Gon just hastily waved a hand and said, “I’m going to welcome the new god!”

It took him no time at all to reach the border of dimension twelve. In the distance, the gate to the Heavenly Realm stretched to the sky; a golden structure which went upwards, farther than the eye could see. It was meant to be a doorway but had inadvertently become their world’s symbol. Not that the Heavenly Realm had much use for it to begin with—although it was one of the most beautiful dimensions in existence, the prerequisite of immortality prevented anyone who wasn’t a god from entering.

Each time a god accomplished something of note, their story was engraved on its frame. To date there were thousands of stories etched there, most of which detailed battles from the war, others in medicine advancement, new magic research, and the like.

Gon pressed his face next to the image of a goddess curating flowers. He squinted.

Yes, there was someone there beyond the gate, but they were too far away to make out. And with Gon’s enhanced eyesight—that was saying something.

“Come closer!” he called.

The figure seemed to perk up at the sound of his voice. They turned around. They stopped, as if stunned by something. They walked cautiously forward. They stopped again. Then, they were running—swiftly, gracefully—the new god must have been a warrior, royalty, something like that in their past life—Gon was sure of those traits at least, because fluid movements like that only came out from honed years of practice.

When the new god was close enough for Gon to finally pick out the details in their face, in their stance, in their eyes, the more Gon’s heart thudded in his chest like the beat of a drum, thrumming through his blood, lighting every nerve he had on fire. His hands grew sweaty, and he couldn’t look away, he never wanted to—something painful stung inside his soul but it was crying out of relief, because for some inexplicable reason, Gon felt like there was a hole in his heart which was being patched back together.

The figure running to him was a young man, pale as a waxing crescent, with a head of white hair that curled at the ends. He was dressed simply, his clothes slightly scuffed and well-worn; the only item of note on his person being a dark cape around his shoulders, inner lining shimmering with the cosmos.

The new god ran to him. The sunlight filtering through the clouds exposed the dew in his eyes—which Gon realized with a start were actual tears—and Gon felt the urge to tell him not to cry, that they had just met, so why was he so sad? He shouldn’t have been sad—he was a god, gods didn’t—well, they couldn’t feel sadness that often, but those words stayed in his throat, because the new god was also smiling, a smile which dazzled and sparkled and exuded joy, and wasn’t that a contradicting thing? How could one smile while crying? How could one laugh while tears were coursing down their cheeks?

The young man slowed his pace when he reached the gate. He padded over, bare feet against the clouds, gripping the sleeves of his shirt in his hands. He hurriedly wiped his face so the tears disappeared.

“Hi,” he said, voice like bells, and he lifted his head to look at Gon, and Gon wanted to swallow the lump in his chest, but he found he couldn’t do anything else but stare. His throat was dry. He wished the gate wasn’t there. He wanted to touch him.

Was there a spell embedded in the god’s eyes? Was there magic in them? Was he part gorgon, to be able to turn Gon into stone? There was something inevitable in them, something which transcended magic and logic and the rules of the world, because there could be no other reason as to why they could hold Gon captive so easily.

And, when Gon finally took the chance to catch his breath, he nearly lost it again. The blues of everything beautiful were melded together into a prismatic collage to create this god’s eyes, they must have been, they had to have been, because no one was born with eyes like his. In them, there was the blue from the midnight sky, the blue from daybreak, the blue from bellflowers, the blue from the sea. Blue from the berries which grew on the left side of the mountain, blue from the rain, blue from the lightning that ran from heaven to the earth.

Blue. So very, very, blue.

They shone with the remnants of tears which his sleeve had been unable to catch in time.

The god reached towards the gate. He tentatively touched the golden borders. “How do I get in?” he asked softly.

“Oh.” Gon said. “Right. That. You just...uh. You just push.”

The god’s mouth quirked up in a half smile. It was fond. “Everything alright there?”

“Yeah—yeah,” Gon said breathlessly. “Everything’s fine. Hey—have we met before? You—I mean, this may sound strange, but—you look really familiar.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah. I don’t remember you at all, but I feel like I’ve known you. Maybe before I became a god? In a past life, or something?”

The young man fished something out of his pocket. It was a red gemstone the size of a pea. “Some suave words you’re using on someone you’ve just met,” he said casually.

Gon was quick to defend himself. “I don’t have any ulterior motives!” he said adamantly.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Gon’s heart was about to explode. It hurt so much he felt as though his soul were ripping in two.

They were bantering with each other.

Gon liked that. He really, really liked that—he must have done something right in order to meet this person, because the new god was interesting—he was so, so interesting. All the other new gods he had met were polite, and well-spoken, and filled to the brim with etiquette—and honestly—all the same. But this god was different. He had left an impression on Gon. A lasting one.

It wasn’t just the way he looked, for one. Sure, the god was absolutely beautiful, but then again, all gods were. (It didn’t matter that he was, quite possibly, the most beautiful person Gon had ever seen in his life—and he had lived for a very, very long time). The fact of the matter was, Gon wanted to know more about him. He wanted to know everything. He wanted to know about his past, about his family, about what he liked to do, what he liked to see, where he liked to go. About his hobbies. About his interests. If he thought gods with tan skin, dark hair, and golden eyes were attractive.

Gon’s hand twitched, and he had to physically refrain from reaching out. His body was acting strangely. He wasn’t in control of his own limbs.

The new god popped the red stone into his mouth and swallowed. Then, with a tentative movement, he placed one hand onto the gate and pushed. It glided open easily. He breathed a sigh of relief.

“What are you nervous for?” Gon teased. “You’re a god. The gate always lets gods in.”

The man blinked. “I’m not a god though,” he said.

Gon laughed. “What do you mean you’re not a god? You were chosen. You’re here, after all.”

“I’m not here because I was chosen,” the new god said, shaking his head. “I’m no god. I’m just a witch.”

Gon was confused. “But witches can’t come here. They live a long time, but they aren’t immortal. How did you open the gate if you aren’t immortal?”

Here, the man smiled again. It was mischievous. “It’s a secret,” he said. “I’ll tell you later. Say—why don’t you show me around for a bit? I’ve always wanted to see the Heavenly Realm.” He stuck out a hand. “I’m Killua, by the way.”

Gon took his hand in his own and shook it. It was warm. “I’m Gon.”

For now, he would let the secrets stay hidden. He would get to know the newcomer. He would fight to understand why his chest constricted so tightly, why he wanted to reach his arms around him, why he wanted to hold his face in his palms and press kiss after kiss upon his face and lips. Sooner or later, he would figure it out. Sooner or later, he would coax the secrets out of the man who showed up at the gates of the Heavenly Realm, who smelled of starlight and the drizzle of a summer shower.

“Tonight we’re going to go stargazing,” Gon declared. “It’ll be better than all the other places I’ve taken you to. I’ve got the perfect place picked out already—I’ll grab some fruit from the garden, some cheese and bread from the cellar, and we’ll set a small fire on the grass and watch the meteor shower.”

Killua gave him a wry look. “Don’t you have lines to write?” he asked. “Last time I checked you were still...hm, several thousand words away?”

Gon ignored him. “And tonight, both moons will be blue. Blue moons. Only happens once every few millennia. You’re in luck.”

“Lines, Gon. You have to write your lines. Or you’re going to get in trouble again.”

“But you’re my guest,” Gon whined. “It’s my duty to take care of my guest. Not that anyone knows you’re not a god, you smell like one of us anyways—” Here, Killua’s face turned a rare shade of red— “But if anyone else takes you around it's not the same, you know?”

What Gon didn’t tell Killua was that his real motives were indeed, for his own self interest. He didn’t want Killua to get to know the other gods. He had met a few of his friends already, sure, but it was all peripheral—sharing Killua with anyone was an all around bad, bad idea. Because Gon liked the way Killua looked at him and him alone. He liked the way Killua’s attention was ensnared by any word he said, the way his eyes would trail after him like they would follow him anywhere. It was pure selfishness which drove his actions and nothing else.

Witch or god, Killua was most definitely the most intriguing, captivating being to ever enter Gon’s life.

Killua scoffed. “What do you mean ‘it’s not the same’? I could easily go with Knuckle. Or with Shoot. Or even with Ikalgo. You’ve got lines to write, and I’ve got time. I can keep myself preoccupied.” He stood up. “I’ll see you later, Gon.” He shot him a quick smile. “Come get me when you’re done. I’ll wait for you.”

Gon couldn’t stop his instinct in time. His hand reached out to grab the hem of Killua’s shirt, and before he could figure out what his mouth was saying, the words were already out.

“Don’t go.”

Killua flushed red to the tips of his ears. Gon released his hold on Killua’s shirt, and made the bold move to go for his hand instead. His soul sighed as his restraint caved and their skin made contact.

Ah.

It was intimate somehow, holding hands with Killua. Gon hadn’t wanted to do that with anyone else before. But Killua was special. Killua was—Killua was—

Gon’s heart lurched, and for the briefest of moments, he caught a glimpse of something in his mind, something which made the fogginess of his memories clear slightly, like focusing in with a lens. It evoked a sense of longing in him like he was looking back at a life he used to have. As quickly as it came, it faded, but there was the lingering sentiment of magic which ignited their touch, and Killua’s hands, his skin against his, was hot.

Hot. Hot. Hot.

Gon squeezed, just a little, and it felt right—the way their fingers interlocked like pieces of a puzzle which fit perfectly together. “Don’t go,” he said again. “Stay with me. Please? I promise I’ll be fast.”

Killua was making eye contact with the floor. His bottom lip trembled slightly. For some reason, he looked like he was on the verge of tears. “Okay,” he whispered, “I’ll stay.”

True to his word, Killua kept him company as Gon finished all of his lines in one sitting. In a herculean effort, Gon finally dotted his last sentence and stood up to stretch his limbs. It was already dark outside.

He glanced down at Killua who had fallen asleep on a mound of pillows. He was breathing softly through his nose. Gon crouched back down and traced the constellation of freckles across the witch’s face, brushing his fingertips lightly against his white lashes.

Curious. How curious, that he wanted to watch over Killua forever, that he wanted to run his fingers through his hair, that he wanted Killua to stay by his side. How curious it was, that even with the pain gripping his heart, he wanted to get closer, that he still wanted to know more.

“Who are you?” Gon murmured, “Why do I feel as though I know you? Why are you here? Are you looking for someone?”

Killua didn’t answer, but rather let out a quiet sigh and leaned into Gon’s touch.

The action was so shocking that Gon was already halfway bent over him, lips just about to touch his brow, when he clenched his teeth and pulled back.

He had almost done something bad.

He took a deep breath and composed himself.

It would be fine. Things would be fine. Whatever Killua was doing to him, whatever it was, it was fine.

Gon reached down and gently shook Killua’s shoulder. “Hey, Killua—I’m done. Let’s go.”

“Five more minutes,” Killua mumbled.

“You’ve been sleeping for hours,” said Gon. “Come on.”

Killua rolled over and blinked groggily at him. He smiled at him, a dopey kind that was filled with a tenderness Gon hadn’t seen on anyone's face before. “I’ve missed you,” he said.

The phrase was an arrow to the heart.

“I’ve been right here, Killua,” said Gon, doing his best not to kiss him.

“Hm, I suppose you have, in a way.” Killua sat up. He stretched too, looking more like a cat yawning in the sun than a witch who had just woken up from a nap. “Alright, I’ve slept enough. I’m ready. Let’s go.”

The moons were already climbing into the sky by the time they made it to the top of the mountainside cliff. Killua hadn’t complained at all about getting there—even Knuckle had expressed his grievances when Gon first showed him the location—but his new companion wordlessly toed off his shoes, rolled up his sleeves, and gripped the rock with his slim fingers. He scaled the side with an elegance and strength not lost on Gon. He looked as though he had been climbing mountains his whole life.

Gon hauled the basket of food over his shoulders and followed right after him.

Killua, lighter on his feet and with a head start, reached the top first. His bare legs dangled off the edge as he took in the view. Gon tossed the basket up and swung a leg over. The wind was remarkably silent.

Gon gathered some wood. He was about to write a spell to light a fire, but Killua just smiled and said, “Allow me.”

With the smallest of breaths, he blew a stream of sparks onto the kindling. It caught easily, and soon, they had a blaze.

“You’re amazing,” said Gon honestly.

Killua grinned. “So I’ve been told.”

“By who?”

“By you.”

“But this is my first time telling you that,” said Gon.

Killua hummed. “I guess it is.”

Gon didn’t press further.

Up above, the clouds parted and the two moons finally reached their apex. They beamed down upon them like two smiling giants, round and whole, and Gon wordlessly sliced the bread and cheese and passed a few pieces to Killua. The witch, between munches of that and fruit, would ask Gon questions in a hushed tone, like they were sharing a secret moment. None of Killua’s questions were difficult to answer but they were strange questions Gon hadn’t heard prior to Killua asking them; like if Gon had liked anyone romantically in the past few decades (until Killua’s arrival, he hadn’t), if he had enjoyed his time in the human world (he confessed he couldn’t remember if he did), and if he ever felt like something was missing.

“I used to feel that way,” Gon said.

Killua looked at him. “Used to?”

“Yeah.” Gon moved his fingers like he had seen Kite move them a lifetime ago, and the stars rearranged themselves—orion’s belt, cygnus, a miscellaneous flower. “I felt as though I was forgetting something important. Really, really important. More important than my life. It really bothered me. I couldn’t figure out what it was.”

“But you don’t feel that way any more?”

Gon laughed and leaned back. “I guess not? No—actually, I’m sure I don’t. I mean, this is going to sound crazy—I know we just met, I know it's only been a few weeks, and I swear I don’t have any ulterior motives when I say this—but Killua, from the moment you got here, I’ve felt whole. I was unsettled ever since I’ve returned to the Heavenly Realm, but now, with you by my side, I finally feel like everything is right in the world. Is that weird? I’m sorry. It’s probably weird.”

Killua’s face was red from his cheeks to his ears. “You mean it?” he asked hoarsely. “You really mean it?”

“I mean it,” Gon said.

Killua bit into an apple slice. He wrinkled his nose, then looked up into the sky again. He was thinking.

“It’s your turn to ask me something,” he said after a moment of silence. His voice was back to normal.

“My turn?”

“You answered all my questions. So yes, it’s your turn now.”

Gon had a lot of questions. He wanted to ask the same things Killua had asked him. Mostly if he was romantically interested in anyone. He wanted to know how he had gotten past the gate. What that small, ruby stone had been. How long he was staying. If he could stay forever. For eternity. If he thought Gon was good company. If he thought dimension twelve was boring or fun. What he thought of gods. If he ever thought about kissing gods, as Gon had thought about kissing witches. But instead, as the first comet fell from the sky, followed by the second and third until a canvas of stars was scattered across the heavens, Gon settled for asking, “Why are you here?”

Killua answered his question smoothly. “I’m here to fulfill a wish.” Then, he added, “With a meteor shower, I guess a lot of people will be fulfilling wishes tonight.”

Gon’s heart rate increased. “What kind of wish?”

“A wish from a very long time ago. From someone near and dear to me. It’s...kind of hard to explain.”

With that, Gon felt his soul split down the middle. So Killua had someone he cared for in that way. Well, it was Killua after all; talented, fierce, quick-witted Killua. Even though they hadn’t spent all that much time together, Gon could tell this man was someone special. It was obvious. It was in the way Killua carried himself. It was in the way that he spoke. It was in every kind gesture he made. So Gon shouldn’t have been surprised. He shouldn’t have been surprised that Killua had already found a person for himself, because anyone would have jumped at the chance to be close to someone like Killua.

But despite knowing that, there had been a part of Gon which had held onto a desperate kind of hope, that if Killua was with him longer, he might have taught Gon what it was like to love instead.

A sudden pain struck Gon’s head with the thought. It hurt. He gripped the grass with a tightly clenched fist.

There was a pressure behind his eyes. It throbbed and his heart ached with it—in some faraway, echoed version of the past, he saw a flash of white hair and lightning on a person’s fingertips—it looked like Killua, but that didn’t make any sense, because they had just met, hadn’t they? They had just met a few weeks ago. It was as short of a time as any. And he would have remembered someone like Killua, even if a million years had passed. Someone like Killua was unforgettable.

It couldn't have been him.

A ghostly memory slid its hand into Gon’s. It was cool and cold. It was familiar. That same hand had touched his face in a dream.

It disappeared as soon as Gon had realized it was there.

Killua laughed. His eyes twinkled like the stars. “You look confused.”

Gon shook himself out of his trance, willing the pain in his head away. “Was just thinking about something, is all,” he said.

In the background night sky, a pale blue grew across the face of the moons, gradually changing their warm, white surface to the color of forget-me-nots. And further in the distance, the stars continued to drift across the sky, painted lines of light which carried thousands of wishes along with them.

More days passed. More days of heartache, of pining, of longing, of wanting to touch Killua and refraining from doing so. Words would catch in Gon’s throat like raindrops in a well and it took every ounce of willpower to keep them from spilling out—and it didn’t help that Killua would smile at him and lean against his shoulder as they sat on the seaside cliff each evening, that Killua would joke around, laugh in a way that shook his shoulders and left him in stitches, and just as quickly, get up and run faster than Gon through the golden meadows, the color of the sunrise in his hair.

It only made it that much harder, that much more painful.

Emotions stirred inside Gon, begging to be released, to be set free, and Gon could only quash them down in panic because what was he doing feeling things like that, and especially towards someone like Killua who had already devoted himself to another? He was a horrible friend. Killua was there for a reason. He was there to fulfill someone’s wish, and whoever that someone was, they were so incredibly lucky, because Gon would have given anything to be in their shoes.

He was jealous of them. They would never understand his position—of wanting to get closer despite the daggers digging into his heart, of wanting to capture Killua’s attention every waking moment, because they already had it. Gon couldn’t stand the thought of it; the thought that Killua’s smile had been monopolized by another, that the person dearest to his heart wasn’t Gon, but rather some stranger instead, some person who didn’t know how fortunate they were, who wouldn’t feel thorny vines in their flesh whenever Killua was around. Gon didn’t dare imagine what would happen when the witch finally fulfilled the wish he had mentioned because such thoughts always involved him leaving Gon in the Heavenly Realm, alone, for another. He would thank Gon for their time together, give him a soft smile which wasn’t reserved for him, which didn’t hold the intent he hoped it would, and go back to his precious person, because that person already had Killua’s heart, his love—Gon knew it, because every time Killua would talk about them his features would soften and his eyes would become even more beautiful, even more sad, like he missed them terribly.

If there were higher deities than gods, Gon would have prayed to them, begged them, to let him experience what it was like to be loved by someone like Killua. He would have relinquished his godhood, given anything short of his life to feel it—but there was no one to pray to. Not even the power of the heavens could control the will of love.

Killua had obtained its magic. Gon had too. But his love was misdirected, a black hole’s gravity which weighed on his being. This desperate kind of longing was something Gon was unused to.

His emotions clashed against one another. It was a push and pull, a constant war within himself, because part of him wanted to steal Killua for himself, the other part wanted to keep his distance so as not get hurt even more than he already had.

The first part always won.

And every time it did, his heart ached even further, wondering what it had done to deserve such a torturous, wonderful feeling, because loving someone, and hoping for their love in return, was nothing less than waiting for a downpour during a drought.

Gon was finding it harder and harder to ignore his feelings. It was difficult to set the pain aside, to look at Killua and not want to embrace him, to not want to kiss him, to not want him the way his soul kept telling him he did. Because Gon did. Gon wanted him, wholly, undeniably, entirely, wanted him in a way he hadn’t thought he could. And through it all, his head continued to give him the sensation that something was right within reach but still untouchable, that something was on the tip of his tongue but he still wasn’t quite there—but with Killua by his side, he was getting closer and closer to the answer. He would catch glimpses now, of images he understood to be important, though the reasons for their importance remained a mystery.

Things like tea sets.

Like circles with pentagrams within them.

Green and blue aprons, hung side by side.

Killua poked his leg. “You’re getting distracted again,” he said. “If you wait any longer to reel that carp in, you won’t catch it at all.”

Gon cleared his thoughts, swiftly pulling back his fishing rod so a gleaming, silver fish landed squarely in their basket. It wriggled against the twine before settling down.

“On the contrary,” Gon grinned, “You forget I’m great at fishing.”

Killua’s mouth twitched up in the semblance of a smile. “All luck,” he said. “I’ll catch three times that amount.”

“What are we going to do with three times the amount of fish?” asked Gon, but Killua was already diving gracefully into the stream, barely making a splash—and Gon could only admire him through the clear water as he swiped at the fish with his hands, grabbing an additional five before breaking the surface and tossing them into the basket to join Gon’s catch.

Killua swam over to the dock. He looked like a mermaid.

“Told you,” he said airily, as though he had successfully proven a point, but in all honesty whether or not he proved it was of little consequence because Gon was sure that whatever Killua did, no matter what it was, it could only make him love him more.

“We have too many fish for the both of us, Killua!” Gon said in mock exasperation. “Maybe we can give some to Knuckle? He was always partial to—woah—!”

All of a sudden Killua had grabbed his ankle, and after a brief struggle (which Gon had lost), had pulled him into the water to join him. Gon’s entrance was significantly less graceful than Killua’s. He landed with a loud splash, scattering the fish in the area to the furthest ends of the stream. After he got over the surprise it was rather enjoyable—the water was shallow and warm after being cast in sunlight for an afternoon, and as Gon resurfaced, he was determined—no, ready—to wrestle Killua as payback.

But Gon found that he couldn’t.

He couldn’t, because the light was catching against every droplet of water on Killua’s skin, on Killua’s eyelashes, glittering like he had been bathed in stardust, and he was so, so, so beautiful, laughing like he wasn’t made of diamonds, like he didn’t see the way Gon looked at him, like he had no idea of the reverence Gon held for him. Killua’s eyes crinkled up in the corners, a glimpse of blue barely peeking out, and Gon’s heart swelled in his chest, expanding like hot air in a balloon, crushing his lungs, sending a tingling feeling up and down his spine. He was filled with the sudden yearning to hold Killua tight and never let go. He wanted to sing of his praises, to kiss every freckle that dotted his nose.

And his heart kept beating. It banged against his ribcage, yelling something, something which Gon had tried to ignore but could do so no longer. Its call made its way into the golden blood which threaded through Gon’s veins, it lit a flame under his skin, it filled him with a power and desire beyond his own comprehension. Underneath it all, someone was fitting a key into his box of memories, and they were turning it, slowly, surely, deliberately.

The well in Gon’s throat was filled to the brim now—there was no more space for waiting, no more room for him to breathe—it was overflowing, the words that he had tried so hard to keep hidden for Killua’s sake and for his own were spilling out, and he couldn’t stop them, not this time.

There was a click on the lock. It was hardly noticeable.

“I love you,” Gon breathed, and he watched as Killua’s eyes went from small crescents to round in shock, and now the blue was that much bluer.

Oh.

He had said it.

It was too late now.

The words left his mouth, like they were running, like they were running for freedom, not knowing that a wall would be in their way, a wall of denial—but Gon had made a mistake and he couldn’t retract it even if he tried.

“I know it's not fair to say that to you,” Gon said, overlooking the small flower of hope in his chest which took Killua’s red face to be a sign of reciprocation, “Because I know you’re not here for me, you’re here to fulfill a wish—and I’m just...just a godly companion, or something. But I’ve never met anyone like you before. I’ve never wanted to be close to someone the way I’ve wanted to be with you. Look—even as I’m saying all this, my hands are shaking, because I’m nervous—I can’t even remember the last time I was nervous!” Gon laughed, holding his hands up, and sure enough, his fingers were shaking.

“My heart hurts when I’m with you, Killua. You can’t see it, but if you could, you’d find that it hangs on to every word you say, you’d realize that even in my dreams, ever since I saw you at the gate, it's thinking about you. Each day, each moment we spend together moves too fast and I keep falling deeper and deeper for you—it’s like I’m drowning, but I don’t want to come up for air. And—I can’t explain why—why it is that I love you, why it is that I think you’re perfect, why it is that I want to be with you during every waking moment. I can only explain to you that I do—that it’s engraved in my being.

“I can’t put it into words. I can’t, but I’ve had a feeling that you’re the key to something important, because my hazy memories get clearer when I’m with you—and yes, it hurts sometimes, but it hurts even more to know that some things have stayed forgotten when they shouldn’t have. And it’s like you’re the piece that’s been missing in my life, it’s like I haven’t been whole until I’ve met you, that I’ve loved you a lifetime ago, that you’ve changed me for the better, that you’ve made me who I am—and I know that you don’t feel the same for me, but I just...I couldn’t hold it in any longer.”

“...What makes you think that?” asked Killua quietly, and Gon looked at him for the first time since the words had spilled out, and for some reason tears had joined the water dripping down Killua’s cheeks, and he buried his face in his hands, palms against his eyelids.

“What makes you think that?” Killua asked again, louder this time. “What makes you think I haven’t felt that way towards you? What makes you think that I haven’t done everything just so I could see you again, just so I could be with you, so I could touch you, just so I could spend even just one more second with you? What makes you think that?”

“I—”

Killua angrily took his hands away from his face, and he waded over to Gon, water splashing against his legs. He stood close enough to Gon so that their noses were touching, close enough so that Gon could see blazing aquamarines in his eyes.

“I have loved you,” Killua said, staring straight into Gon’s soul, “For years. I never stopped. I have never stopped loving you, never stopped thinking of you, never stopped wishing and hoping and searching for an answer, for a way to fulfill my promise to you. And worst is, I still wasn’t confident in myself, because a dark part inside of me always wondered if you had found someone else during our time apart. But I charged on forwards anyways because not seeing you was a fate even worse than that.

“And it was painful, so, so painful, to see you at the gate, and see that you didn’t know me at all—it was so hard to shake your hand when all I wanted to do was kiss you and hold you in my arms again, it was so hard not to just pretend like things hadn’t changed because they had, and it was so hard not to just tell you everything because if I did, it wouldn’t have been natural, and it wouldn’t have worked.”

He brought his hand to Gon’s chest, fingers clenching against the wet fabric as if he were reaching for Gon’s heartbeat, as if he were reenacting a scene from his past.

“I’ve waited,” Killua whispered, “I’ve waited for so long for you to love me again.”

And with a press of his lips against Gon’s, the box opened and everything came flooding back.

Gon’s memories slotted themselves in their rightful spots. The bridge connected, the string which had fallen wrapped itself against the pieces and bound them tight again, and everything he had lost was stitched back together with the power of love. They came to him in fractals, one by one, reminding him of who he was, the people he had met, how his journey had begun and ended, and the witch that had started it all, the witch he had fallen in love with each iteration, the witch that he had given his entire heart to, his entire being, the witch that was his and his alone.

“You summoned me? On your first summoning attempt?”

“You’re funny, human. It’s a simple wish. I shall grant it.”

“Have either of you ever fought a Zoldyck witch before?”

“I want you to make a wish.”

“You can still wish for things and I’m contractually obligated to fulfill them, but I won’t be happy about it, you hear?”

“Take care, Gon. Thank you for everything. I was happy.”

“You need to escape Gon. I’m glad I got to see you, even for this short moment, but this place isn’t safe for someone like you.”

“I’m so sorry Gon, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

“What cost did you pay?”

“I have loved you, all this time, and I want you to love me, if even only a fraction, of how much I love you.”

“Wait for me. I promise I’ll fulfill your wish. I promise.”

And Killua had done it—Gon knew he would—and it really was him, it really was Killua in his arms, kissing him, warm breaths between them and Gon cupped his face with his still-shaking hands, but this time they were trembling out of sheer, unbridled happiness. Killua tasted just like he remembered, tasted like they hadn’t been separated for years, like they had just confessed how they felt a day ago.

It was like the old was turning to new, like death was turning to life, like the mundane was turning to magic. It was the explosion of a supernova in the depths of space. It was the touch of a fairy’s wing on the first snow of winter. It was the dappled rays in the quiet forest, the smell of lightning before the storm, the spray of seawater upon marbled rocks. The feeling flickered on his lips with the brush of a blue moon: calming, sweet, and mystical.

Killua tasted like eternity.

“Killua,” Gon breathed, kissing him again. “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you.”

“You remember?” Killua whispered against his lips. “You really remember?”

“I do. I remember everything.”

“It took you long enough.”

“I’m sorry for keeping you waiting.”

“Do you know how hard it was to get here? How difficult it is to make yourself immortal?” asked Killua, pausing only for a moment before he went in for another kiss, “Let me give you a hint—even with Alluka on my side, I had to visit over a hundred dimensions to make one tiny, little rock.”

“Is that what you swallowed at the gate?” asked Gon, kissing the corner of Killua’s mouth, then his cheeks. “The red one?”

“Yes. I named it after you, you know. It’s called a sorcerer’s stone.”

“The first of its kind?”

“Mm. And its existence will stay a secret. I won’t be making one again. Too dangerous.”

“But you made it.”

“I had to, or else I wouldn’t have been able to enter the Heavenly Realm.”

“You’re amazing, Killua.”

“I’m really not.”

“You are. You really, really are.”

Gon knocked on the door of the Gods’ Association headquarters. Although their main building was a large, sprawling palace in the center of the Heavenly Realm, the god Gon wanted to see was never there.

After the war had ended, the leader of the Gods’ Association had reincarnated and ascended back to godhood in record time. He hadn’t wanted to lead again, preferred the younger generation to carry the charge, but as soon as he had returned to the Heavenly Realm everyone had already chosen him as their unofficial head. He took the title but refused to handle most cases. He was never one for administrative things. Paperwork was not his forte.

The leader of the Gods’ Association would rather spend time in his small hut near the riverbank, surrounded by his carefully planted vegetable garden.

Killua squeezed Gon’s hand. “It’ll be fine,” he said, but Gon wasn’t sure if the words were more for Gon or if they were more for himself.

The door creaked open. Gon peeked inside.

An old man was already sitting at the singular table in the hut. There was a pot of steaming tea and three cups set on its surface.

“Are you going to stand there till the sky goes dark, or are you going to come in?” Netero asked. He opened a tin of small cookies and dumped them unceremoniously on a plate. One of them rolled away, twirling briefly before falling flat.

Gon and Killua both entered and took a seat. Netero wordlessly passed them each a cup of tea, then rested his chin on his hands, waiting.

Gon spoke. “I know I haven’t fulfilled the terms of my punishment yet. But I’d like to leave.”

Netero blinked at him, then took a long sip from his cup. He leaned back into his chair. “According to Knuckle,” he said, “The last time you reported in, you still had several hundred thousand lines to go. And, I believe I heard through the grapevine that the Association has created a new law restricting travel to other dimensions unless absolutely necessary. If I acquiesce to your request it would be breaking both rules. I’d be setting a bad example.”

“Rules have never stopped me before,” said Gon.

Netero chuckled. “Well, I can’t argue against that. But the rules are there for a reason. We can’t just let gods ignore them or they would fail to do their jobs in the first place. Why don’t you explain to me why you want to leave?”

“I’ve found love, you see.”

“Hm,” said Netero, eyes flicking to Killua. “I do see that. It’s been quite a while since a god has fallen in love—and with a witch, nonetheless.” He popped a cookie into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “But there are other places you could go to be together. Why not stay in the Heavenly Realm? We have one of the most beautiful dimensions in existence. You could stay here, and then no rules would be broken. I would think that option is much easier.”

“We can’t do that. Our home is in the human world,” said Killua.

“Oh!? Is it?”

“It is.”

“Interesting. Hm.” Netero picked up another cookie. Silence stretched within the confines of the hut as he inspected the biscuit in his hands. He was contemplating his next words and Gon and Killua sat motionless in their chairs, waiting. Their tea grew cold.

“Tell me,” Netero said finally, “Do you understand why love is the most powerful magic in existence?”

Gon shook his head. Killua’s fingers clenched against the wood table. They both didn’t say anything, not knowing what answer the older man was expecting.

“You youngsters,” Netero sighed wistfully, putting the cookie down. “I forget how much older I am than you sometimes.”

He leaned forward. “Listen closely. I’ll tell you why. It’s because love is unexplainable. No amount of research, no amount of experience, no amount of teaching can ever prepare you for it. Only until you feel it for yourself can you understand why that is so. It’s power comes from its unselfishness and from its sacrifice. It is wholeheartedly given and not taken. It expects nothing in return.”

Netero smiled, his white mustache lifting upwards. “Why is it that flowers love the sun? Why is it that the birds love the trees? Why is it that children love their parents? Is it out of necessity? Or is it something ingrained in the very souls of existence, a magic which has tied the living together, in hopes that such emotion will bring us together, so we can build up instead of tearing down?

“I cannot claim to understand it. But I’ve lived a long time, both in this life and the last two, and I’ve noticed things about it. Love heals wounds. It breaks curses. It evokes happiness and positivity. It is a magic which everyone is capable of wielding, and does not discriminate—it cares naught for where you come from, what origins you have, what you’ve done, who you are. It only hopes that you spread it, that you give it, that you pour more of it out into the world.

“Whatever love is, there is still much to learn about it. And, how lucky the both of you are to find it in each other, to find love in your lifetimes, to find a love that most can only dream of having.”

Netero put both his palms on the table. His explanation was finished. He didn’t say anything else. He pushed his chair back, stood up, and without a glance back, strode out of the hut. Gon and Killua looked at one another and then hurried to follow him. Behind the hut, the vegetable plants were growing tall and facing the sun, leaves wide and green.

Netero bent down in his wooden sandals and rustled around near the roots. When he turned back around, there was a tomato in each of his hands. He passed them to Gon and Killua. The vegetables were both perfect—round, red, and at the peak of ripeness.

“For you to eat on the way back home,” Netero said simply, and that was that.

Together, Gon and Killua pushed open the golden gates to the Heavenly Realm. They waved goodbye to Gon’s friends, who promised to visit the human world when they could. The Gods' Association's law was still in place, but hopefully not for long—with rumors already spreading of the dimension’s delicious baked treats (Killua had attested firmly to it), it was only a matter of time before the ban was lifted. Who would have thought food would have been the thing to entice the gods? Gon sure didn’t.

They walked to the edge of the Heavenly Realm. A spark glittered in the air, expecting them. It traced a circle into the atmosphere and a portal opened up, lined by the colors of the rainbow. A girl with ribbons in her hair peeked out around its side.

“You both took forever,” Alluka said, and then she was wrapping them up in a tightly armed hug. “I’ve been waiting.”

Gon smiled against her hair. “Sorry we took so long. My fault.”

“If only I could have passed through the gate too, it would have gone faster I’m sure,” Alluka said, but her actions betrayed her words. She sniffed, suddenly teary, and buried her face into Gon’s chest. “I really missed you.”

She led them through the portal, and as they stepped through it, space rippling against their skin like silk, for the first time in what felt like eons, Gon saw five humans gathered around a white wicker table. The aromatic smell of jasmine and citrus wafted through the air. His friends were chatting amicably in the front garden which had grown larger and more abundant in their absence. Someone had planted a rose hedge. There was a small patch dedicated to herbs now. And even though their shop hadn’t been visited in ages, the windows had been wiped clear of dust and a fresh layer of red paint had been added to the door.

Kurapika noticed them first. He was positioned directly in front of the portal so he caught sight of them as they appeared in the human world, the landscape of the Heavenly Realm at their backs. His eyes widened in shock. He stopped mid-sentence.

The teacup he was holding dropped onto the grass.

The other four members of the tea party turned to face Kurapika’s line of sight, confused by his strange reaction until they saw Gon, Killua, and Alluka, and then their faces too, took on the same surprised expression.

Relative to their lifespans, time moved faster for humans. While Gon and Killua hadn’t changed in appearance, their friends had clearly gotten older. Bisky’s hair had gone grey. Kurapika and Leorio had lines around their eyes and mouths. Zushi was significantly taller (he had obviously hit a late growth spurt). Wing’s hair was tied around his nape.

The humans sat in stunned silence, appraising the two people they thought they would never see again, the two people they thought had disappeared forever, and a young girl they had never seen before.

The stagnant pause lingered in the air for only a moment.

Then it broke.

If Kurapika had been the first to notice them, there was no doubt Leorio was the first to move. He leapt out of his chair and vaulted across the table, knocking over the pot and saucers, spilling tea everywhere, long limbs flying. He didn’t ask any questions, he didn’t say a single word, but Gon saw that he was crying behind his glasses as he swept them up into a hug. His grip was just as comforting as Gon thought it would be.

He smelled like cinnamon, like earl grey tea leaves, like patchouli and honey.

Gon felt safe.

“Welcome home,” Leorio said gruffly.

And then the others followed suit—chairs clattered to the ground as Gon’s family ran to them, touching his and Killua’s faces as though they couldn’t believe they were real, laughing amongst their tears. There were questions now, many, many questions, but for once in his life, Gon had all the time in the world to answer them.

“Neither of you have aged a day!” exclaimed Bisky, inspecting their appearances.

“That’s because I’m a god,” grinned Gon.

This news didn’t seem to faze anyone in the slightest, which Gon was grateful for. If he had to explain the nuances, he was sure he wouldn’t have been able to do it justice. 

“Figured as much—your excuse about ‘sending magic outwards’ and ‘being born with a special ability’ was a tad too convenient,” said Bisky, rubbing her temples. “Things are always clearer in hindsight.”

Leorio whooped. “I knew something was off about you—”

“And,” Gon interrupted smugly, “I’m not the only one with an extended lifespan. Killua’s immortal now.”

“How did you manage to gain immortality?” asked Kurapika suspiciously.

Killua winced and spluttered an excuse. Gon laughed. Even if they were older, he found reassurance in that his friends’ personalities hadn’t changed.

“Uh—well, it was more trouble than it’s worth, honestly. Definitely won’t be doing that again. Ever. So don’t worry about that. It took a lot of time, blood, sweat and tears—and even with my sister’s help, it was a giant pain. Oh—I need to introduce her—Alluka, get in here. And bring out Nanika too, if she’s available.”

“She says she’s shy.”

“Ah, okay then. Maybe next time.”

“I like your ribbons,” said Wing kindly. “Won’t you tell Nanika that I like them too?”

Alluka beamed and nodded vigorously. “I will!”

“Looks like Alluka’s not the only one with some new accessories,” Killua said, pointing at Leorio’s apron with a sly smile on his lips. “That’s a new apron you’ve got there, my friend. You finally opened up your other ‘Spice and Nice’ shop or something?”

“It’s ‘Herb and Spice and Everything Nice’, for your information!” Leorio said proudly. “And yes, I have. Kurapika’s been helping me out in his spare time.”

“Oh, nice. Is that why you guys have matching rings?”

Kurapika and Leorio both flushed red at the same time.

“We haven’t had snacks with our tea since you left,” Zushi said, transitioning the topic so his friends wouldn’t have to answer Killua’s question for the time being, “We all tried, but unfortunately, none of us have a penchant for baking and nothing from the stores taste quite like your cooking. Leorio nearly killed us with his last batch of cookies—”

“You take that back, I did not—”

“—But more than that, I think I speak on behalf of all of us when I say that more than your cooking, we’ve all just missed you. Very, very much.”

Kurapika leaned over to brush the hair out of Gon’s eyes. He looked directly at him, searching for something in his gaze. “Will you be staying a while?” he asked quietly.

Gon reached for Killua’s hand. Killua slid his fingers in between Gon’s, and stars bloomed where their palms touched. It was a gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by their friends. Leorio’s eyebrows instantly started waggling.

Killua grinned and let out a laugh which sounded like all of his dreams had finally come true.

“I think we’ll be staying forever.”

Gon and Killua planted the two tomatoes Netero gave them in their garden. It didn’t take long at all for them to sprout from the earth. The vegetables were tart and sweet, and found their way into sandwiches, into soups, into salads and bread and sauces, through the seasons of summer, spring, winter, and fall.

A full year passed.

Killua hauled the last of their baskets into the back room. They had finally gathered enough ingredients to restock the shop. The fruits of their labors were sprawled across every surface, stacked and piled on top of one another.

It was time. They were ready.

After buying new aprons (Killua in green, Gon in blue), they began working again in earnest. Killua started up the cauldrons. Gon picked up his quill. The light in the shop stayed on through the day and through the night. It took both of them a few more weeks to get everything in order, but they soon had a fresh selection of goods lining their shelves, bottles gleaming in the sun, scrolls carefully arranged in their jars.

Gon flipped the sign in the window.

“Well would you look at that,” a man said, doing a double-take as he walked past the store, “I haven’t seen that sign say ‘open’ since I was a boy. Hey, love—want to take a look around? It’s been a while.”

The older customers who had remembered the shop were only too happy to see that it had opened again. They didn’t question the mysterious owners who hadn’t aged, didn’t ask about what magic spell they had used, because to them, the only thing that mattered was their kindness and the love they had for one another which was written plainly in their eyes.

As the seasons moved onwards, so did the years. Killua and Gon’s family passed away one by one. The onset of age, growing older—those were things outside of their control. It was never easy. They would cry each time out of sadness, out of heartache, out of understanding that this too, was a consequence of immorality. But the cycle of life continued. Time flowed forwards. They were all reborn, reincarnated, and they became their family again, in each version of their lives, showering them in their smiles and their embraces and their love.

Gon’s friends from the Heavenly Realm visited their shop too, and although their trips were less frequent, they were no less enjoyable. The gods finally seemed to realize why the human world was so interesting—they would frown when the magic wouldn’t do their bidding, they would whisper in hushed tones in the workshop as customers entered and left, a sparkle would gleam in their eyes when Gon would come out with a tray of baked bread. The tea table became crowded rather quickly, far too small to fit everyone, so Bisky was forced to snap her fingers so that it extended from one end of the garden to another.

There was more room after that.

And each morning, Gon would feel as though he were in a dream. He would wake up next to Killua, who would sit up with his hair jutting out in every direction, and say in a dry, bleary voice, “Good morning. What do you want to do today?” And Gon’s heart would beat contently in his chest because he was able to smile, to admire the person curled up by his side, and answer him with “whatever Killua wants”. His response would be well received, for Killua would laugh softly under his breath, happiness shining in his eyes as he said, “But I already have everything that I want.”

They would scooch closer under the covers to press a kisses to each other’s lips and would refuse to get out of bed until Killua’s stomach rumbled, which would then prompt him to declare that he was starving and that Gon should make him chocolate pancakes if they had the ingredients available.

They always had the ingredients, and Gon always agreed. 

And so, there lived a god who had fallen in love with a witch, and a witch who had fallen in love with a god, who operated a little magic shop together and traded kisses without wishes for all eternity.