Lucilfer (ChrolloxReader)

Chapter 75

My ears rang as consciousness shifted and slipped away multiple times before surely settling down over me, and it was strong enough for me to grasp, though I wasn't certain that I wanted to grasp it when feeling brushed through my body. A gentle thudding repeated in an exhausting pattern around my temples and forehead, and I knew that if I moved even the slightest bit, the pain would be enflamed and exaggerated greatly. But I wanted to move—I felt hot and stuffy. There were too many materials stifling my body in the stillness.

Where am I?

The drudgery into awareness had entirely distorted my sense of time or place, and I couldn't quite make sense of what I felt beneath me. My legs twitched and gradually lengthened, my brows wearing a soft furrow, but the pounding increased for several dragging moments after my stretch, and I had to force my face to relax, wishing away the tension. I felt my fingers curl and tighten with as much diminished strength as I could muster. I didn't dare try to move so much as to turn around, though.

My position felt cramped, however, and it was contributing to the sloping waves of warmth tumbling throughout my form. There was a blanket over me, tucked around me, but there was also a heavier weight fitted to my waist, something a bit more concentrated and solid. My slurry mind was ticked with an early sense of annoyance.

What happened last night? Did I drink too much?

At that moment, I couldn't seem to recall much from the prior evening—it all felt fuzzy and hazy, coupled with a now-nauseating sensation in my stomach. I brought my arms closer to my chest, constricting my limbs as much as possible when a sudden rolling, acidic ball washed up from my abdomen. My lips parted, and I tried to pull in enough oxygen to counteract the sickening hunger and the urge to vomit. A weak groan escaped my throat through an exhale.

Why did I drink that vodka? Jesus Christ.

And where did I fall asleep...? Or, pass out.

So much of my memory was blackened, and it felt like too much effort which wasn't quite worth expending in my exhaustion to sort through it and pick out details. But as bits of the tingling sensation subsided from my legs and backside, I realized groggily that I was certainly not on the couch—I couldn't feel the borders of the sofa behind me, and I wasn't in as rigid of a position as I usually awoke in from sleeping there. In fact, I felt almost splayed out over a much freer, wider comforter, despite the odd weight around my torso and the heat in my body, but I couldn't make sense of it. Everything was so confused.

Many minutes passed by as I waited for strength to return to my muscles and coherency to come to my mind. But with each passing minute of greater awareness came a loopy realization of something new in my surroundings. My legs were brushing against a solid, but that solid was swathed in a cottony fabric; there was a separate warmth feeding into the radiating alcohol-flush in my skin, and it was close to me. That concentrated weight around my waist began to feel strikingly familiar.

Am I in bed? When did I get home?

Chrollo...?

There was a body before me—I could feel legs against mine, and a firm arm over my midsection. The ringing in my ears slowly ebbed and left me with the peaceful white noise of slumbering breaths, but I wasn't pressed close enough to hear a heartbeat. I felt my limbs sink into the mattress below me as my pulse quickened, a perplexed excitement playing as an undertone to the agonizing hangover.

When did he come home? How long has he been gone? How did he know where to find me?

...Was all of it just a bad dream?

Had no betrayal been committed, after all that I'd been through? Was any of it real? Alongside my bafflement was hope, and bliss. I wanted to believe this moment would come; I wanted to believe this moment was the only real one I'd awoken to in the past month.