Lucilfer (ChrolloxReader)

Chapter 74

How could I remain angry at the one I loved? That, in and of itself, was an ethereal tragedy. I knew that I wouldn't, but for the sake of my newfound knowledge, my newfound comprehension of only the slightest elaboration upon the horrors which were endured at his actions, I wanted to. I knew too much now; I felt too much. But it didn't stop me from admitting to myself the unavoidable.

I'll always forgive you, Chrollo.

Was I naive for such a statement? It was so calloused, so passive and flippant of the vulnerability I'd just been offered. I'd thought, for a long time, that I, myself, was innocent of the evils of this world, and perhaps I was innocent of many of them, but not of this. My own emotional awareness afforded me the understanding that I was wicked for this forgiveness, but not the tools for changing it, nor even the will to desire to change it. I would turn a blind eye to this in only a month, and acknowledge this ethereal tragedy with a few more worthless tears, tears which, in actuality, were wasted, because not even they were the embodiment of remorse.

I held no remorse for what must happen. But I held remorse for Kurapika, for the anguish of his existence, for the fact that it never became more than the chains he'd built, those same chains which locked him in place and would send him to his own death. And I also held remorse for the fact that this new glimmer of hope he seemed to be indulging in me, this one last flicker of passion, separate from his ambitious, and yet entirely passionless, drive, was nothing but that—hope. Weightless, groundless hope, with no logic or rationale allowing it substance, because I was not who he perceived me to be, and not who he should be divulging so many pains to.

Perhaps it wouldn't be a smart idea to drink with him, but it would take me away from feeling. It would lift my curse of empathy away from my shoulders, if only for a few hours. I couldn't withstand any more knowledge regarding his past—it would've been better had he remained a faceless enemy to me, a cold hunter, bent on my lover's demise. Then, I wouldn't have to feel this empathy. But there was no point in reminiscing now, and if drinking was how one drowned their sorrows, I would do just that.

I wondered uncaringly whether or not Kurapika was a lightweight as I sat on the sofa, staring into a far away place, somewhere safe and distant from this hell, waiting for him to come back with the wine. I didn't know exactly how much time had passed; I hadn't bothered to look at my phone. He'd been gone for a short while, though, so eventually, I forced my stiffened body to uncurl and reached for my phone, noting that it was around half past eight.

He'd left about an hour after his suggestion. And if I would've been in a less manic state of mind, I might've turned him down, but even then, I couldn't be completely certain I would've. I stared at the half-drained cup of coffee he'd poured for me, recalling the way he'd simply sat in silence with me after I'd professed that I didn't want to go with him, just to be here with me for a little while longer.

What if this is a bad idea?

Even if the answer to that question was confirming, I couldn't see myself caring. And I didn't possess the strength to check for a message from Chrollo and convince myself away from this quietly panicked cliff side—I'd most likely be disappointed, anyway.

The rolling sound of my lover's enchanting laughter replayed in an echo around me as the image of when both of us had been innocently intoxicated arose in my mind, the biting February air on my skin contrasting the warmth of his body around me, the hazy sensation of his lips on my skin and his faded words, the absolute bliss I felt. I remembered, at that time, that I hadn't known who Kurapika truly was—I'd called him under the assumption that he was Kassidy, though I'd known inherently, perhaps subconsciously, that he and Chrollo were to be kept away from one another. I couldn't bring forth exactly what I'd said on that call, but I did also remember the allure of my Chrollo as he laid back on the rooftop, stifling husky chuckles, the way his dark halo of ruffled locks fell loosely around his ears and exposed his forehead tattoo.