Speak of the Devil // COMPLETED ✔

Blah Blah Blah Chemistry Meme About Basic And Acidic Chemicals

TW: DRUGS

If it weren't for Killua's promise to Machi, he might have run sixteen miles away from the party. Instead, he spent the evening keeping Gon on the first floor of the party and listening to oblivious people flirt with Gon just to be flirted back. Half of the time, soto voce, but the devious look on Gon's face made it difficult for Killua to imagine Gon was doing anything else.

By the end of the night, Killua was both surprised and relieved to find Gon being accompanied out by only him.

"I'm sorry I made you so uncomfortable tonight," Gon said on their walk. "I did return the CD player."

Killua buried his hands deep in his pockets. "It's fine. I think I've just been high strung lately with classes starting."

"Did you have fun tonight though?"

Killua wouldn't exactly call it fun. Machi ignored him the rest of the night, and when their paths did cross, she didn't appear to recognize him. It made him want to melt between the floorboards.

"Not really. But I'm not much of a partier anyway."

"Second time's the charm!"

"I think it's 'third time's the charm'. And anyway, everyone seemed to really like you."

"I think they liked you too."

"Be serious."

"I do! You've got this whole moody, mysterious vibe going on. It intimidates people."

You're one to talk, Killua thought, but Gon had actually been approached that evening. Killua suspected it was the change in apparel—the flannel and undershirt combo did wonders to soften the hard edges of Gon's appearance.

He didn't read in to the exposed peaks of Gon's thorny collar tattoo.

"I was invited to another party tomorrow," Gon said. "It's at one of the frats. You should come with."

"What? No."

"Come on! This is me paying you back for inviting me out tonight. It'll be fun—more fun than tonight, I promise," Gon said, twirling around the sidewalk and lamenting Killua's wet-blanket attitude. At the promise, though, Gon toiled back to Killua with his pinkie outstretched.

Killua gave the jewelry on Gon's fingers only cursory acknowledgement. Compelled once again to believe Gon, Killua hooked his pinkie with Gon's and gave it a firm downward shake.

"Fine, I'll go."

That early morning as Killua fell back into his bed, he turned onto his side and stared at the wall. He swore sometimes that Gon didn't sleep, but he was respectful about it. The small reading lamp clipped to Gon's bed frame flicked on, casting a warm hue to the edges of Killua's shadow.

He closed his eyes and listened to the buzz of activity down in the courtyard and in the hallways as students returned to their rooms drunk and prattling on about their Thursday night exploits.

_________

Killua only had one class on Fridays, and it was one he regretted excelling at thanks to his upbringing at a catholic boarding school. Latin came easy to him, but that didn't mean he enjoyed reading St. Jerome's latin translation of the Old Testament.