Gon was being hugged by the beautiful nurse, and her boobs were pressing into his cheek, while the rest of her upper body was mashed into his.
He let his head rest lightly against her shoulder, savoring the feeling.
Suddenly, collapsing after the fight didn’t seem so bad.
If this was the reward, maybe he should let himself pass out more often.
After a while, Celia slowly pulled away, her arms loosening around him as she straightened up. The warmth of her body faded, replaced by the cool air between them.
"That should be enough to make you feel better already," she said, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
Her tone was firm, but there was a lingering softness in her expression, as if she was still half-expecting him to complain.
And complain, he did.
Gon shook his head dramatically, his entire body swaying as if the very act of being without her support had weakened him further.
He even let out a pitiful sigh for good asure, letting his shoulders slump.
"I don’t think it did," he said, his voice low and mournful, like a child insisting they were still sick to avoid school.
His eyes, wide and pleading, locked onto hers, silently begging for just a little more sympathy.
Celia narrowed her eyes.
There it was, that suspicious overacting.
She had a feeling she was being played.
"You don’t?" Celia asked, her voice laced with impatience now. Her arms folded across her chest as she studied him, her earlier sympathy quickly fading.
Perhaps this so-called ntal treatnt had gone on long enough. Maybe it was ti to return to a more practical approach,,like actual dicine.
Gon, however, remained undeterred.
"Yes," he insisted, nodding solemnly. Then, with a hopeful glint in his eyes, he added, "But I think I know what will definitely make feel better."
Celia raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" She had a feeling she wasn’t going to like whatever he was about to say
"What is that?" Celia asked, though part of her already regretted entertaining whatever nonsense was about to co out of his mouth
Gon hesitated for the briefest mont, as if gauging her reaction, before flashing a small, almost sheepish smile. "A kiss," he said simply.
Silence.
Celia blinked. "What?"
For a second, she thought she had misheard him.
But no, his expression remained completely serious, though there was a hint of mischief twinkling in his eyes.
Then it hit her.
"You’re crazy," she blurted out, shaking her head in disbelief. "Absolutely crazy."
Gon only grinned wider, as if he took her outburst as anything but rejection. "Think about it," he said, shifting slightly on the bed. "A hug already helped a little. Imagine what a kiss could do."
Celia groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "You must be feeling better if you have the energy to joke around like this," she muttered, her patience thinning.
But Gon wasn’t backing down yet.
"Just a short one," Gon added quickly, holding up a hand as if making a reasonable negotiation. "On my cheek, not my lips."
Celia narrowed her eyes, studying him carefully. The boy was definitely overstepping his boundaries here. She knew it. He probably knew it too.
But at the sa ti... maybe humoring him would speed up his so-called recovery. If a simple hug had already brought so improvent, then maybe this was just another step in his strange idea of ntal treatnt.
With a sigh, she crossed her arms. "Fine," she muttered. "But only because I really want you to stop complaining."
Gon tried to hide his excitent, but the eager way he straightened up betrayed him.
Celia hesitated for only a mont before leaning in, the space between them shrinking until her face was re inches from his.
Her breath, soft and steady, brushed against his skin, sending the smallest shiver down his spine.
"Turn your cheek," she instructed, her tone carrying both reluctance and quiet resignation.
Gon obeyed imdiately, shifting just enough to expose the side of his face to her.
His heart pounded in his chest, though he made sure to keep his expression composed—at least as much as he could. His skin tingled in anticipation, every nerve awake, waiting for the mont her lips would make contact.
Celia, however, took her ti.
She lingered just a second longer than necessary, as if ntally debating whether this was a good idea after all.
He could feel her hesitation in the way her breath fanned against his cheek, warm and fleeting.
Then, finally, she closed the distance.
Celia took a slow breath, steadying herself as she leaned in.
The air between them felt heavy, thick with an unspoken tension, but she ignored it. It’s just a quick peck on the cheek, she told herself. Nothing more.
Her lips hovered close, barely an inch away from his skin.
She could feel the warmth radiating from him, the quiet stillness in the air as he waited.
Then, just as she was about to close the gap,
Gon moved.
It was so quick, so deliberate, that she barely registered what had happened until it was too late.
At the last second, he turned his head, just enough to redirect her aim.
Instead of landing on his cheek as intended, her lips t his, soft, warm, and completely unexpected.
Celia froze.
For a heartbeat, ti seed to stand still. Her mind went blank, her body caught in the shock of what had just happened.
Gon, on the other hand, wasn’t nearly as frozen.
Though he had acted fast, the mont her lips touched his, he savored it, just for a second, before finally pulling back, his face the picture of pure satisfaction.
Her face burned as realization hit, her breath catching in her throat.
Then, all at once, the shock transford into sothing much sharper—frustration.
Anger and infuriation filled her face, her fists clenched at her sides as she glared at him with a fiery intensity.
Her breath ca in short, sharp bursts, her chest rising and falling with each harsh inhale. "Why did you do that?!" she demanded, her voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and fury.
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