Death's Door // COMPLETED ✔

Partner In Crime

What Gon thought was the sewage system turned out to be the subway tunnels, and if it weren't for his ghostly appearance, flattening himself to the sides of the subway walls might not have succeeded in keeping him alive.

By the time he climbed out onto the empty end of a loading platform, he was exhausted and seriously lacking that golden glow that kept him functioning for so long. Without it, he was panicked, breathing, and jittery with nerves. It was all he could do to stop from starfishing out on the subway tiles and yellow-buttoned strip before the train doors.

Trudging to his feet, Gon realized that the world was once again spinning. The golden hue flickered and feathered out on his skin. Passengers were exiting the train and ignoring him—he was just another staple of the NYC subway system to them.

Death didn't come for him as he expected. He blamed it on the unseemliness of the underground, but the subway wasn't nearly as terrifying as his Auntie had warned.

At least, they weren't terrifying, until time stood still again.

Gon halted at the freeze in traffic. He'd merged with the commuters heading to the surface, but when the current stopped, so too did Gon.

Oh no, he thought, because the only sound he heard now beyond a distant hum in the tunnels was the click... click... click... of heels descending the stairs.

Death's shadow carried dark and heavy down the subway stairs. Gon held his breath, but he couldn't stop the frenetic buzz in his muscles. His pulse was heavy in his throat as he hid himself behind the businessman in front of him.

He couldn't see Death, but Gon felt him in the chill underground. It froze over the subway and turned that hollow hum into an incessant buzz that filled Gon's rattled head with terror.

Gon shut his eyes as that radio static passed, slow and steady, through the gated entrance to the subway. Past the commuters—

—and past Gon.

His lungs ached to breathe, but he held fast, nails biting into his palms. With Death behind him, it was all he could do to keep from screaming.

It took another minute before traffic continued, startling Gon forward. Relief swelled as he raced skyward.

He didn't see me, Gon marveled, panting, as he climbed to the surface.

He took a deep breath of stale city air and reveled in it. The street lights and neon signs were a godsend.

When Gon returned to the scene of the crime, the police had moved on and his apartment was in the clear. It dawned on Gon then that Killua hadn't called 911 at all.

Gon tried the front door, but it was locked.

"Fuck," he said, because no amount of pushing would put his hand through the door.

Fists clenched, he braced himself for a fight. "Ghost on!" he cried, but nothing happened. He punched the air a little. "Come on! Come on!"

A couple hurried down the street, heels clicking faster away from Gon chanting to himself on the stoop.

Half-sobbing with exhaustion, Gon slumped against the brick beside the door. His eyes lingered on Killua's room number, pathetically.

Defeated, Gon rang Killua's buzzer.

His hand flopped down when he wasn't graced an answer. So much for that, he thought.

And then—

"Who the hell is it?" Killua's voice crackled through the speaker.

Gon perked up. "I—Fuck," he swore, scrambling to press the mic button. "H-Hey! It's Gon—The... The guy from earlier."