Speak of the Devil // COMPLETED ✔

Gon Does Something Bad

TW: DRUGS, AND SOMEONE SAYS A SLUR.
WE AREN'T SUPPOSED TO LIKE THEM ANYWAY HAHHAHA OPE

It didn't take long for Killua to grow tired of dancing, but that was normal for him. He never did like dancing—unless it involved Alluka and the intro song to their favorite show, but only at 2AM. It was not 2AM. It wasn't even midnight yet.

Killua circled the dance floor in search of Gon, which was more difficult than he anticipated. Within seconds of joining the floor, Gon dissolved into the crowd and became one with the people and the music clustering around him. The claustrophobia suffocated Killua enough to half-fight his way out of the mob.

Feeling foolish and out of his depth, Killua pulled himself up onto a windowsill to get a better view.

"Oh. You're here," someone said below him.

He glanced left, then right, and found Machi.

Killua jumped down from the sill. "Oh, now you recognize me," he said.

"Yeah, you're Gon's roommate."

"Figures."

"What's your name again?"

Killua blanched at the realization that he really never did give her his name. "K-Killua. Sorry I didn't give you my name sooner."

"The professor called it out Thursday, but I wasn't paying attention," she admitted. "How's Gon?"

Killua grimaced. It wasn't her usual line of questioning and seemed rather typical. Totally brainwashed, he thought, but then again, he might have been losing his mind. He reassured himself that the acid had another three songs to kick in. "Beats me. There's too many people in here and the humidity is nauseating."

Machi gave a cursory glance at the window and dragged her finger across the condensation. "Agreed. Well, when you see Gon, tell him I say hi."

Killua's flippant hand-toss was pure exhaustion. "Yeah, sure."

When Machi left him, her place was swiftly filled by Gon. Killua was amazed by the speed and ease with which Gon found him when Killua had spent the last five minutes attempting the same exact thing.

"Wh-Where were you?" Killua said.

Gon was out of breath. "Dancing. One last song?"

"What are you, a dog? Do you need me to throw a ball for you to catch, too?"

Killua's raised tennis ball-throwing gesture was caught by Gon's hand spinning him toward the dance floor. They were at once closed-in and Killua strained against the back he was pressed against. It only succeeded in pushing him further into Gon's front.

Elbowing his way around proved both painful and fruitless until the noticeable, sweltering heat of Gon's hand centered Killua's attention again. "Relax!" Gon shouted above the bass. He gave a vague, flowing sweep of his hand and said, "Follow the people around you!"

Killua ceased pushing. The person behind him had a rhythm, and it matched the person to his left. He let them lull him to and fro, and Gon's grip on his back loosened to his waist.

He watched the word "Good," form a pleased smile on Gon's lips.

It was a shot of pure dopamine. Killua grinned back. As aware as he was that he was inadvertently grinding against Gon, Gon was following the flow just as much as he was. The crowd wasn't as hectic and uncoordinated as Killua had observed form a distance—they moved as one.