Speak of the Devil // COMPLETED ✔

Gon Stays Up Past His Bedtime (He Is Baby)

His grandfather's TA visited that afternoon to play chess, and after one too many missed opportunities from Killua, Gon played as well as he could manage given his skillsets. He'd caught on well, but he was still no match for Kite, who was too much of a stickler to lose to Gon, and too eager to teach to let Gon lose on his own.

Killua sat on the sidelines not quite processing any of it. He took to sitting at the reading chairs with Chrollo. Hisoka was nowhere to be found, and his grandfather was working in his office.

"Dammit!" Gon groaned, slapping his own face twice for motivation.

Kite smiled graciously as they began resetting the pieces. "You're doing well for having only just learned two days ago. It's important to keep dominion over the center of the board."

Gon made a sound of utter bewilderment. "Really? I thought that area was dangerous."

"It is if your opponent gets there first," Kite said. He demonstrated with two pawns. "I have a lot of bandwidth here—I can play offensive from here very well, as opposed to keeping my pieces near the walls. You lose mobility."

"Oh. Oh, I understand now," Gon said. His next match faired a bit better, which Killua heard in his excited gasps and stiff, silent concentration between rounds.

Killua fiddled with a sheet of paper until it was torn into tiny, minute shreds on his lap. Chrollo was nearly done with his second book that day and it was only noon. "How do you read so quickly?"

Chrollo glanced up from the page and said, "Practice."

Killua didn't know how to answer to that. He'd been practicing all his life and had thought he was a fast reader until Chrollo came along. "What would you recommend? That I read, I mean."

He'd wondered how long Chrollo had contemplated this, because he moved without hesitation, and the book was at the top of his ever-growing stack of read-vs-to-be-read books. He tossed it over the coffee table, and Killua narrowly missed it.

He turned the cover over. It was blue and well-worn, printed in the sixties. Killua recognized the author. Altered States of Consciousness.

"Not necessarily about the conscience, which I think you're starting to get down," Chrollo explained, still studying his own book. Killua wondered if he was still reading as he spoke. "There's interesting articles on hypnosis and LSD that might apply to you..."

"Oh. Thank you. I guess?" Killua said, unnerved by the analysis.

"I'd also recommend a book from the 2030s, but it doesn't exist yet," Chrollo said, and at Killua's blank stare, lowered his book to say, "It's on post-psychosis. Patients who experience psychosis often experience severe depression after an episode. You could apply it to reflection with a restored conscience."

"O-Oh," Killua said. That could explain it. He didn't exactly count his trip with Gon as a psychotic break, but upon reflection, it was quite maddening that he'd considered killing Illumi. And it was certainly awful of him to have defended Gon for it.

A slow, disgruntled exhale drew Gon's attention from chess over to the reading area. Killua's hair glowed in the stained glass filter of evening light—reds and yellows peppered with green. Gon ran his thumb along his bottom lip as he considered Killua and the state of his affliction so plain on his tightened brow.

Kite's chess piece clinked onto the table. "Check, Gon."

When they were all called upon for dinner, Killua was the last to leave the room and only did so because Gon's concerned look back sent a rush of adrenaline through him. Only then could he stand, and only then did his grandfather take one look at him and say, "We'll handle cooking tonight. Rest a little."