Speak of the Devil // COMPLETED ✔

Killua's Roommate Might Be A Thief, Or He Might Just Be A Demon From Hell

Content warnings:
Gore, drugs, mind control, brainwashing, dubious morality

The mystery of Killua's roommate's identity was resolved traumatically and, most importantly, criminally. There were a number of unexplainable occurrences leading up to the occasion, but in hindsight, Killua was only just now reading them as what they were: evidence.

Evidence that his first week of college was cursed from the start.

Killua's parents were none too pleased to learn he wouldn't be attending an ivy league but instead chose a quaint, private, and vaguely religious college his grandfather had attended. His grandfather was now a professor there and in the summers of Killua's childhood, he would spend blistering afternoons running amuck from his grandparents' house to the campus.

His grandfather liked having him around after his grandmother died back then.

An ivy league experience was something his parents always wanted for themselves but could never afford. Now that they could, their golden child had chosen the comfort of familiar pastures instead. Killua snubbed their privilege, and he tried not to feel guilty about it.

Moving into campus that first week meant moving Alluka's things back into their parents vehicle. It was an annual exchange altered only by the lack of Killua's things accompanying Alluka's pink suitcases in the backseat.

Killua shut the trunk and brushed off his hands. "That's everything."

"Do you really not want help moving in?" Alluka asked.

"Do I really want mom and dad sniffing around my neighbors dorms and causing a scene?"

"Okay, fair point. But I'm only asking because I'm nosey and I want to see your dorm room."

"That's what texting is for and that stupid disposable thing you gave me—"

"It's a camera! It's not a new concept."

"Whatever."

"You never use it! Use it!"

"I said whatever." He stuck his tongue out at her, which earned him a finger to his cheek. He gritted his teeth against the pressure as Alluka dug her forefinger in with contempt.

"Easy now, before you bruise him on his big day!" their mom chided from the porch. Their dad was stepping out the front door and shutting it behind him, grandfather nowhere in sight.

Killua's jaw clenched as his mother approached. She was dressed to empress an executive chairman—another reason Killua loathed to even consider letting her anywhere near his dorm room. His neighbors would think he was a nepo-baby (which he debatably was, not that he wanted to admit it).

He grimaced against her weirdly affectionate hug. The skin of her collarbone was milky and warm from the summer heat and the fact that she was wearing a blazer. He couldn't remember the last time they'd hugged, but he hoped it was the last.

"Mom, stop."

She squeezed tighter. "But I'll miss you—"

"Okay, I'll miss you too," he said, straining through every word until she released him.

Her satisfied sigh made him feel like he'd lost his integrity. He staggered back a little, heel slipping off the pavement and into the grass. His mother dabbed her eyes with the pad of a manicured thumb.

"I don't know why I'm so emotional," she said, reverently. She sniffed, smiled, and patted Alluka on the head as she passed to reach the passenger door. "Imagine if we'd been dropping you off at Yale. I'd be inconsolable."