Killua x reader - 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒶𝓉 𝒻𝒾𝓇𝓈𝓉 𝓈𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉
Y/n's backstory.
You're the top student, literallly. Everyone has no doubt that you're perfect, you're a sunshine, and a lovely, optimistic student. You're the school's beauty, afterall, you took all the best traits from your parents, so a lot of boys are desperate to be with you, however, you reject them all, just because of the fear that your perfect facade will be cracked. Under that perfectism, there's always a depression, an anxiety of doing something wrong, the burden of all the expectations and rumors, and the trauma of having to listen to everyone's tragic.
Every smile you offer feels like a carefully rehearsed performance, a mask designed to keep the world convinced that you are as unbreakable as you are brilliant. While your classmates see a lighthouse of optimism, you feel more like a hollow shell, echoing with the weight of secrets that aren't even yours. You've become the city's unofficial confessor; people hand you their tragedies like heavy stones, never realizing that your pockets are already full.
The higher the pedestal they build for you, the further there is to fall. Every "A" on a paper isn't a victory—it's just a temporary stay of execution against the failure you're certain is coming. At night, the silence of your room is louder than the cheers in the hallway, filled with the intrusive hum of "what ifs" and the suffocating pressure to remain the person they all think you are. You are a masterpiece painted on a crumbling wall, terrified that one wrong word or one stray tear will finally make the cracks visible to everyone.
The reason behind this? It's your parents. They are perfectionists, your mother and father haves high expectations and goals for you. Your father is a trial attorney, while your mother is a medical specialist, since they're already that excellent, it's obvious that they want you to be better than them. Your parents' jobs are all high-paying jobs, no doubt that you live in luxury. But, even though everyone assumes you're very happy with your current life, you feel like you'd rather want to die. Your parents rarely even meet you, they work day and night, leave at 4 am and come home at 1am. They still message you, but those messages are reminders to study. They only call when you get a low grade - which I'm talking about is not F (cuz you never get a F), but an A minus. Those calls? You dread them. Those calls are cold, blaming, and insulting, like they're more scared that you'll ruin their reputation more than scared that you'll fail in your future.
The luxury surrounding you—the designer clothes, the pristine home, the latest technology—feels less like a reward and more like a gilded cage. To the world, your life is a dream, but inside those quiet, marble-floored halls, it's a graveyard of affection. Your home isn't a sanctuary; it's a headquarters where your only value is the data you produce. Every "A minus" is treated like a stain on a white silk dress, a blemish that your parents scrub at with biting words and disappointed silences until you feel raw.
You've learned to navigate the house like a ghost, moving between rooms that smell of expensive candles but feel entirely cold. When your phone buzzes, your heart doesn't leap with the hope of a "how are you?" Instead, it sinks with the weight of another digital command to work harder, do more, and be better. You are the crown jewel of their public image, a living resume used to win social battles you never signed up for. While they chase prestige in courtrooms and surgical theaters, you are left alone to manage the crushing realization that their love is conditional, measured entirely by the decimal points in your GPA.
That's until...you met Killua.
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