Speak of the Devil // COMPLETED ✔

I Should Know That You're-Not Gonna-CHAAANGE 'CAUSE YOU'RE HOT AND YOU'RE COLD-

POV: You break up with your hot emo demon boyfriend so you decide to bust out the depressing Beethoven vibes.

Once Meruem found Gon, it was easy for him to return on a whim and join Gon on his extra-dimensional shitshow of a migraine to help ease him out of it. Meruem would sit on the edge of the bed, rest his hand on Gon's cheek, and close his eyes.

It took upwards of half an hour before Gon was made solid again, and even then, his awareness was inextricably linked to Meruem.

Gon came to with an unsteady sigh, a hand reaching up to his forehead. His palm fell to Meruem's hand, fingers clutching onto him. "I feel so..."

"I know," Meruem said.

"You don't," Gon half-whined, and broke into a groan of annoyance, like a child being empathized with by their parent.

"Okay fine, I don't. I've never had to be reincarnated before," Meruem admitted, which earned him another screech of annoyance from Gon, who rolled around on the bed until he was face-first, and Meruem had no choice but to pat his back instead.

"Have you decided what you want from me?" Gon asked, muffled in the pillow.

"I can't make a deal with you when you're in this state. We'll wait until you're better—"

"Well, I wouldn't be in this state if you'd told me sooner!" Gon shouted, and followed up with a scream that, even muffled, vibrated the floor.

In the sitting room down the hall, Killua felt Gon's frustration resonate in the sudden sting underfoot through the slippers.

Killua looked at his grandfather, who sat in the adjacent chair. The sitting room was calm all except for the fact that Killua could not unsee the spiderwebs clinging to the rafters overhead. Illumi had gone for a walk.

"Do you think Gon's okay being alone with Meruem?" he asked.

"Certainly," his grandfather said, but just then, the chandelier creaked overhead, swaying as if caught in a breeze.

In the other room, Meruem was trying to calm Gon down. The mattress was smoldering even more than it had before when it was just Gon and Killua. The room smelled of rancid, melted hair and charred plastic.

"What did I even do to deserve this?" Gon sobbed, rising up on his fists and elbows. His shoulders curved inward, steam emanated from his clothes. The collar of his shirt started to smoke, embers dancing along the fibers.

"This is temporary, Gon," Meruem reassured. His voice had an extricable edge that magnified when Gon's mind scattered. Just as he was everywhere, so too was Meruem, and that echo went on into infinity.

But Meruem's hand was very present, intentional, and singular. Gon grasped for it again and, for a moment, believed himself to be in the ruined gallery where Killua was meant to be.

____________

Fatigue weighed on Gon. Where his eyes strained, that tension trickled down to every muscle in his body until he was helpless against the pressure of Meruem's hand on his shoulder, easing him back down.

"How long has it been?" Gon asked. It felt like he'd just sprinted through half a century. "Is Killua still here?"

"Yes, he's in another room. It's been a few hours," Meruem said, knowing full well that an entire two days had passed and they were running out of time.

The floors had started to warp into waves, like the forces at play were crushing the hallways into an accordion. It all started in the ballroom where, during Gon's fitful rest, the tiles beneath the bed began to cave in. All the while, Gon fazed in and out of the present.