Guardian

Never before have you felt more grateful for your incorporeal state. It robbed you of three of your senses which, in any other circumstance, would have frustrated you. However, staring at the various puddles of vomit, you only felt relief.

You don’t know how Gon could stand it with his enhanced sense of smell. He hopped over a groaning man with ease, unbothered by the stench, humming lightly as he knelt down in front of a man leaning against the wall.

Clearing your throat to catch Gon’s attention, you stood up. He glanced over and you gestured to the other side of the room. Gon shot you an understanding smile, waving briefly before turning back to the man.

Scrunching your nose at the ill men in your way, you didn’t bother jumping over them, just walked right through them. As expected, they didn’t react. You had a feeling they wouldn’t.

The bespectacled male leisurely sprawled across several boxes, reading a book you didn’t care to examine just yet as you were already moving your gaze onto the blonde in the hammock also reading a book.

Your lips twitched upwards. What a funny coincidence.

Taking a few steps forward, you peered over the cute blonde’s shoulder. You could make out the text, but just barely. The last time you saw this language was most likely before Ging. Maybe...what? 30? 40 years ago? It didn’t really matter.

Time didn’t really matter.

Humming under your breath, you reached forward to move aside his hair. You spotted metal glinting in the light earlier and you wanted to see what caused it.

Your hand passed through his head.

Sighing, you pulled away, dully noting the way he twitched, his grey eyes darting around the room, frowning when he found nothing anywhere near him.

Quickly losing interest, you left his side to examine the other one relaxing nearby.

Hopping onto the boxes, you phased through his legs. He continued to read, adjusting his sunglasses.

Your attention drifted downward and you furrowed your brows, lightly poking at his legs. Why the suit? Wouldn’t he get all hot and sweaty? I mean if he wanted to take off a few layers, it’s not like you’d stop him. Sure, the sunglasses and perverse expression on his face took away a bit of his attractiveness, but it wasn’t a deal breaker.

And while the 18+ magazine wasn’t either, you still stood back up, brushing yourself off, despite there being no dust, and headed back to Gon. Frowning at your flustered demeanor, you remembered a time when it took a lot more than women in bikinis for you to get caught off guard.

You’re growing soft.

It would be hypocritical of you to claim it a bad thing.

But, you thought, sitting by Gon as he took the cup of water from his new friend, this isn’t a good thing either, is it?

There are things you needed to hold onto, lessons you must remember if you hoped to keep him safe. The world was deadly, it’s inhabitants deadlier. The innocent and naive very rarely ever lived past their 80’s - unless they isolated themselves. Unfortunately, Gon would never agree to that.

(you don’t really think that; you’re a selfish creature through and through and time could not take that away. You don’t want to be stuck in isolation. You’ve done your sentence. You’d hate to carry out the rest of it.)

You refused to exchange Gon’s safety for your own comfort. A single hint of a threat and you’d drop everything, anything to protect him.

Placing your hands in your face, minutely shaking your head, you chuckled quietly, careful to ensure Gon wouldn’t overhear.

It was funny, really, how warped your original goal became.

How warped you became.

Some would consider it a good thing; others would crucify you on the spot. 

No, no, that’s not quite true. That implied there weren’t those out there trying their hand at playing executioner. They failed, of course. They always failed, but that fact never stopped more from coming.

It’s why you needed to stick close to Gon. He was strong, intelligent in his own way, capable of defending himself.

Against natural threats.

You believed in him, but only in that. The things you dealt with, the things you will experience in the future, he should never, could never go against.

They know of your attachment; they will target him.

Gon twisted his torso so he could tilt his head at you in confusion. “What are you so quiet for? Did you find something interesting?” At that thought, his hazel eyes sparkled with excitement, turning his body the rest of the way to give you his full attention.

Your face softened, muscles relaxing as you reached over to gently pet his coarse hair. “Nothing of importance,” you murmured. He didn’t seem very disappointed in the loss of a good story, content with reveling in your touch, leaning into it.

He’s grown.

Some of the previous baby fat you enjoyed squishing had melted away to more defined lines and edges, arms hardened into a lithe muscle that strained whenever he pushed himself too far - which was often, the exasperatingly hardworking little tyke - eyes sharpened to a more calculating gaze that understood how the world worked just a little bit more.

You could still carry him, but, he could now carry you. It shocked you, the first time Gon picked you up. Pulled a shriek from your lips the infuriating boy giggled at, teased you about.

He’s grown, you repeated to yourself. He opened his eyes, expression open, honest, never one to hide his emotions.

”You’re staring,” Gon stated. Not accusatory, not angry or uncomfortable, just that age-old curiosity tinting his words.

But, this still needs to be protected.

You shared so many precious moment with him that you cherished deeply. So you did what anyone else would do in your stead. You engrained them to your memory, seared them into your brain; that fear of the day they, too, would be torn from you dogging your every move.

“I love you.”

Your fingers froze in their ministrations, still entangled in his hair at your admittal.

You don’t know where that came from. This was the first either of you said that to the other. It’s been implied in your actions - giggling praises for mundane accomplishments, singing off key to improvised lyrics, clinging tightly as smother kisses forced the recipient to attempt an escape, surprising tackle hugs that sent you sprawling into the grass.

But that’s the thing, they’ve always been implied. Never talked about; never touched upon. Neither of you ever acknowledged your love for each other.

Until now.

A beat passed.

He stared in bewilderment, shock overwriting his previous tranquil state.

And then your words finally registered.

That beam you swore rivaled the sun and the moon and stars and everything light and warm shined across his face, and suddenly, you could breathe again. “I love you, too!” He cried with enthusiasm, wrapping his arms around you, crushing you into an embrace you never wanted to leave.

He still needs to be protected.