*killua hesitates to take the gift from his brother, reminded of scraping flecks of origami paper from his moistened skin in the aftermath of an embarrassing loss of control he's not too sure was truly private. he clears his throat, hands retreating awkwardly to his sides.*

do you -- uh, do you remember leaving some paper on me the first time you showed me your ability?

*he eyes the paper in his brother's hands warily, wondering if the connection is voluntary or always active, trickling his guilting moans into his brother's ears.*