Bliss—that's what being with Chrollo felt like. Perhaps it was his ethereal presence, or his magical laughter, or the way he loved me first, the only one in my entire life who had given himself to me fully and completely, unapologetically. It was profound to me, the way he could soothe any fear or anxiety in my mind, in my heart, and it was also profound, the way I could entrust every piece of my soul to him, the way I could bare each facet of my identity to him. Every moment with him felt like the first and the very last I would ever spend, and so I always spent them as present as possible—time seemed to slip away, and yet a few minutes could feel like hours.
In the month leading up to his departure, I felt as though I was loosening, releasing the dread which so often plagued my thoughts about being without him. Part of this was because I considered it a responsibility of mine, to allow him the freedom he had always deemed for me; part of it was due to my effort at grounding myself in security, in the fact that he meant what he said when he promised to always come back, that he would always love me. But none of that even mattered as much as the promise in my own resolve, the resolve which sprouted from the helpless way I loved him. Even if he left and never returned, I could never stop loving him, and I could never stop trusting him—if he were to leave me in a pile of rubble, and then call me one day to say he needed me, I would drop everything and run back to his arms, because he'd done the same for me, first.
But such was the nature of acceptance—I understood that a catastrophe, a breakage, a shattering of our dynamic, of that magnitude would never occur. There was simply no possibility of it. He was my best friend, my perfect partner, my supporter. And though everything I'd ever known had tried to sabotage this discovery many times, and most likely would never cease in its efforts, I could still emerge from that stifling darkness and see it as truth, as a plain fact of life, of my life, and of his life.
I could also see that it had made quite a change in him, as well—his demeanor was always fringed with that tragic melancholy, that never-ending wondering about the purpose in our minuscule existences, the minuscule existence of the earth and the universe and the cosmos, but he seemed easier now, less bothered by it, his curiosity having lost its harsh edge that used to cut into his very soul and tear him apart in the quiet of the night. On another seemingly unrelated note, his sleep had improved greatly—of course, he didn't sleep every night, but when he did sleep, he rarely ever awoke early anymore, remaining unconscious beside me until I'd awaken to stroke back the pretty locks of hair obscuring the view of his occasionally-dreaming eyelids, framed with a fan of thick lashes and still-purple circles. But I knew that his lesser insomnia had been caused by the same peace which had convinced me of each promise he'd made me.
February was passing too quickly. As much as I knew everything would be alright, that those irrational fears were only irrational, it still made me a little sad, a little despondent. Sleeping without him would feel strange, even if it were only for a single week. It was always my assumption that days lengthened with the coming of spring, rather than shortened, like they so seemed to be. Before I could barely blink twice, two weeks had passed, and then three weeks, and the first of March loomed threateningly on each horizon.
Chrollo's energy never shifted, though; he never distanced himself, and he stayed the same, if not more doting, as if he were not just about to leave to another continent for a week or two. I was grateful for it, too—it almost convinced me that he wasn't leaving at all, and when I reminded myself that he would, it didn't seem so bad, so drudging, so egregious.
Machi and Shizuku agreed to allowing me to stay with them in their hotel room, and they even asked if I wanted them to set up the extra guest room for me, but I didn't really have a preference—sleeping on the sofa would feel a bit tighter, more snug, and it would ease the strange cold sensation I always experienced whenever I slept alone, but sleeping in a room would feel more like home. Apparently, they owned a penthouse at the top of a hotel building, so I suppose it wasn't really a single room.
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Lucilfer (ChrolloxReader)
Fanfiction*ChrolloxFemReader* (Y/n) is a powerful exorcist, running from a fate bestowed upon her since childhood. She isn't looking for anything besides a way out, even if death becomes the answer. She comes into contact with Chrollo Lucilfer, a man who's N...
