Oh My God, They Were Roommates

[ 23 ] It's The End Of The World

Killua loathed to be sitting in the back of a Tesla that evening when his mind was scattered elsewhere. He blamed his thoughts on Gon, seeing as they all revolved around that little shit, but he couldn't pinpoint which part of Gon's life had him more worked up. Did it have to do with their recording session?

No , he thought, rubbing his thumb idly beneath the hem of his sleeve. This has to do with that guy who misgendered Gon .

How could Gon know a person like that? In fact, Gon seemed excited to see the guy. As much as he wanted to ask Gon about it, it wasn't his place. He felt inclined, however, to spit in Ikalgo's coffee mug if he ever got the chance.

"How are you feeling?" Pariston's voice came from beside him, resting no more than an arm's length away in the back seat of that Tesla.

Killua straightened a touch, his hand flattening over the front of his black suit and button-up shirt. "Fine. I'm glad to be here with you," he said with a faint, charming smile that made the frustration in his gut churn to a boil of fury. How could he be sitting here playing doll when he could be recording with Gon or interrogating the rat bastard about Ikalgo.

Who the hell did Ikalgo think he was? Did he really transfer to USFC just for Freecss?

"Oh, there's no need for a facade," Pariston hummed, the glow from his phone screen reflecting off of Killua's window. Killua glanced at him, and Pariston offered a short smile. "Just be yourself."

"Sounds like something a mom would say," Killua said, to which Pariston praised with, "See? Infinitely better."

Killua let out a hollow laugh. "This must be a kink of yours I have yet to hear about. Rest assured—stowing away my sass for the night. I'm not here to cause trouble."

Pariston reached a hand out, and pressed it firmly to Killua's arm. Killua shivered. Sly move , Killua thought, breath completely vanished, evaporated, vamos, I thought he was about to grab my thigh .

Killua met his eyes as Pariston said, "Perhaps I want you to cause trouble," before turning back to his phone and leaving Killua's arm be.

The dinner was taking place at an elaborate ballroom event center where, surrounded by guilded sculptures and marble columns, Killua found himself thrust back into the life he used to have with his parents. The Zoldycks were a family of affluent individuals who surrounded themselves with well-behaved children to put on display at events like this just to garner the attention of impressive white men saying, " You've done so well raising them. "

It made him want to gag.

Instead, however, he was here for a different but similar purpose: to be put on display.

The first conversation he stood in on, Pariston turned to Killua to introduce him as nothing more than, "my nephew."

The person seemed just as alarmed as Killua, but Killua was quicker to recover. He shook the man's hand and said, "I know, shocking that people adopt."

And that, it seemed, was precisely what Pariston had hoped for when he paid Killua under the table for his services. The bright way Pariston's eyes lit up at Killua's comment had Killua grinning, pleased that he had not only (likely) scored a tip, but had also managed to make one of the guests at the event laugh.

As they mingled and brushed elbows with usually-stuffy business men, Killua kept to Pariston's side through the first hour of their night. The guy had , after all, paid quite a hefty sum to get Killua there, and so Killua would oblige his presence. However, after the cocktails and the appetizers, they drifted from the cusp of the bar to find their seats, at which point Pariston plucked a flute of champaign from an oncoming silver tray and held it out in front of Killua.