Lucilfer (ChrolloxReader)

Chapter 45

Black dots swirled in front of my vision and blood drained coldly from my face as I strived to focus on the fiery irises, now blurry and shifting, before me. In my mind, I knew that I was safe, that I wasn't being hurt, and that, truthfully, I probably deserved this reaction from Kurapika, but being in such close proximity with him by such a forceful action, one I would have never seen coming from him, as gentle and kind as he usually was, sent me into a lashing state of panic. My head felt woozy with a loss of oxygen, and at the time, I could almost hardly notice how erratic and gasping my wild breaths were, my chest rising and falling in a rapid, jagged rhythm.

He's too close. He's too close.

Shove him away. Tell him to stop. Do something.

But I couldn't—it felt as though I lost connection to my arms and all other means of autonomy within me, reverting back to some fragile, stiff shell, terrified and rigid on my unsteady feet. In that moment, there was nothing I could use to ground myself. My brain felt like it was spinning and rising higher and higher away from the earth, and the odd sensation of every blood vessel in my body contracting sent a rush of uncomfortable pounding to my temples. My vision was dimming; my fingers were wrenching painfully against the wall. However, there was a detachment in my thoughts from the feelings coursing through my body—all I knew was that hardly two seconds had passed, and I could process nothing from the chaotic series of events.

I'm going to pass out.

Calm down. Find a way to breathe. Don't pass out.

Is he speaking? What did he say, again?

"Is there something you want to tell me, (Y/n)?"

A chill raked down my spine at the threat in those words, the violence in his eyes. But it wasn't a calculating violence, and perhaps it wasn't even directed towards me—it looked like some sort of an inner turmoil, like his words carried a double meaning, as if the question wasn't meant for me to answer in the way that I so dreadfully assumed, in my thrashing head.

Confusion and guilt and sadness and yearning climbed higher in my subconscious—the fleet of relentless emotions never ceased their taunting. Looking back, his action, itself, was not enough to elicit such aggressive, ferocious panic, but it was certainly the last straw before every drop of the bottled anxiety from the entire week exploded into an unmanageable stress reaction.

Breathe. Breathe.

I couldn't breathe; I couldn't remember how to. I couldn't recall how it was possible to connect my body to my mind anymore, and as a result, my body was acting on its own, a trembling ball of fear, of alarm and sirens and warnings screaming at me to get free of his stifling body.

Kurapika's passionate anger was something I was so unfamiliar with. I only wished to comfort him as a friend, as someone who cared for him. But I had begun to entirely separate this outburst from any feelings of security I might've cultivated beforehand—his legs were pressed against mine, and I could feel his seething breath on my lips, his nose practically grazing mine, his hands planted on either side of my head. I was leaning so flush against the wall that my body had involuntarily straightened out, as if looking for another way to move away from him.

Proximities of such closeness were entirely unknown to me from anyone but Chrollo. He was the only one I genuinely wanted, with authentic trust in his understanding of exactly how to go about approaching me, to be curled up against, the only one who elicited desire from me when his body was pressed against mine, rather than fear.

In such stark contrast, the quickness of Kurapika's movement shocked me away from anything I'd ever known of him—I felt as though I was looking, or straining to look, into the eyes of someone I didn't know anymore, someone unsafe, though there was still the inherent comprehension of the fact that I knew he wouldn't hurt me.