Lucilfer (ChrolloxReader)

Chapter 54

Morning greeted me kindly, a gentle white light swirling in through the wispy curtains and dancing with the soft yellow incandescence of the bedside lamp. Gleaming replays of the prior night leaped composedly through my thoughts in flickering sequences, painted crimson by mutual desire and dimmed in its harshness by tender caresses and the relentlessly seething, delicate melody of love. It roused me out of unconsciousness compassionately, and reminded me that I could now commit one more evening of my comforting darkness to memory, despite the steadily rising sun.

A smile breezed through my sleepy expression and lifted the tired muscles of my jaw before I hazily blinked my eyes open, adjusting to the early glow. My limbs felt soothingly relaxed, sinking down into the heavy mattress and absorbing the fluffy warmth of the thick red blankets, and I wondered briefly if I would actually gain the will to move eventually—as I peered inattentively over towards the standing wardrobe, I realized there was still makeup on my eyelids, and I knew I'd need to shower, as well. But I didn't want to leave the bed; I didn't want to move away from where Chrollo clutched tightly to my body.

Tilting my head lower, I gazed with brimming bliss down at his limp, resting form, untouched by any lingering tension—only the smallest reverberating flex disturbed the smothering peace when his arms shifted around me. He laid on his side before me, one arm tucked securely beneath mine and draping weightily over my waist. I could feel his hand pressing loosely into my backside. The other was shoved haphazardly under the pillows below us, and he buried his face into my chest. His shoulders rose and fell slowly, following a steady, deep pace of slumber. I released a long sigh and stroked gentle fingers through his hair—it had loosened and felt soft against my skin, but it was still pulled back.

Pretty Chrollo.

Distractedly, I wondered where my phone was. Last night, I'd put it in the pocket of the leather jacket I'd worn, but I couldn't remember if I'd thrown it somewhere on the floor, or if it was entangled in the slew of blankets somewhere on the bed. There was a chance Machi or Shalnark might've responded, and also a chance that Kurapika might've texted me, although he usually didn't message me after I missed a call from him—he hated feeling as though he was bothering someone. I contemplated finding time to call him back, but not because I felt like I owed it to him this time.

If he's doing business with the Hunter Association, there's a chance he's found more information on the whereabouts of any of the Spiders.

If I couldn't work up the nerve to tell Chrollo the truth, then I would at least do my best to discreetly advise him of any moves the chain user might make, despite the small twinge of guilt I felt at betraying Kurapika. And even so, that guilt was nothing compared to the agony I'd endured, and still endured, at keeping him a secret from Chrollo. I would gladly, eagerly take the relieving replacement of guilt on Kurapika's behalf rather than Chrollo's.

As I allowed my thoughts to wander, I briefly considered what would happen if one of the Troupe members decided they didn't want to be a part of the Troupe anymore. What would Chrollo do? Would he let them go? Or would there be some sort of a de-initiation that would need to take place?

Would they have to fight their way out?

The contemplation terrified me for my own sake, although I knew that my relationship to him was different than his relationship to the Troupe. Still, it was run by many of the same principles, and governed by his same belief system. But it didn't terrify me because I feared not having a way to escape; it terrified me because I dreaded the thought of Chrollo ever becoming so cold towards me that he would let me go, or throw me away.

But I knew what I needed to do. It wouldn't be easy, but nothing in this wretched existence was easy, as much as I believed it should be. Why would humans be put into this world, this universe, with the unending yearn for rest, for peace, and then be forced to slave away under the whip of hardship and suffering? Of loss and of misery? The only tangible relief from which would be the phenomenon of discovering a soul to twine one's own with, but even then, the harrowing mental journey of simply existing beside that one soul with the knowledge of everything else that could possibly hurt or torment it was sometimes too much to bear. But it is continually trekked, anyway—in the end, that harrowing journey is the only walk to keep one sane in this trivial dimension.