Lucilfer (ChrolloxReader)

Chapter 87

The sun shone brightly overhead, directly burning down into the dreary inhabitants of a worthless earth, scorching the land with midsummer heat; the sky was a vast blanket of eternal blue, and though it, too, was blinding in its sheen, its color was nothing but a bitter pessimist. My hands and arms, my legs and feet, all felt unsteady, shaky, even as I traveled on the flat grounds up to the eloquent porch front and gothic doors. The air was humid, though that was to be expected as a result of the stretching forest of trees surrounding my home. All of these aspects indicated midday, early afternoon, and yet I was suspended within the pitch of night, of darkness.

My mind's ability to process had ceased. I'd remained entirely frozen, unmoving, in the Jeep, staring wide-eyed and silent out at the highway and then at the dull expanse of nowhere-roads and bad pavement, and finally, the stone pillars which marked where my one-track thoughts urged me to be. I felt as though I'd been away for years, petrified, reeling years; numbness and emptiness had built and solidified into a stronghold which guarded me from any further pain, but they must've been built on a foundation of loose sand. They'd crumbled in the timespan of a single day, a day which continued into a tumbling progression of infinity. And now that they were gone, I was stripped of the knowledge of how to feel anything apart from raw longing, sore, helpless wishing.

To put things in their simplest form, I needed to be beside my lover. I wanted to remove the tormented doubt in his mind, his beautiful, brilliant mind, never quite sure enough to allow good fate to last forever; I wanted to save him from the horrors I'd encountered, the horrors I'd been promised by a soul so wounded that I didn't believe there would ever be a way back, a way to heal, from its pain. I needed to find Chrollo, and reaffirm to myself everything he's ever been to me. I was so exhausted with feeling unsafe, exposed, vulnerable, especially when only he owned those vulnerabilities. Only he held the essence of my existence in his palms, and he had been the only one, throughout the course of my entire lifetime, to protect my existence, to handle it tenderly.

Upon arriving, half of me expected not to see his sleek black car, perhaps just because so much had been twisted beyond recognition, anyway, but it still sat, waiting, in its usual spot—that allowed me just the smallest twinge of relief. My body moved mechanically through the front door, and I fumbled shakily with the keys as I rushed to hang them up.

Where are you, Chrollo?

The house was silent as death. It was too familiar to the way it had been when I'd first come home just last night; it sent eerie tingles down my spine as I wrenched off my shoes and left them carelessly strewn about. Consequently, I disregarded those sensations—my breathing was labored, and my eyes stung when I raced immediately up the stairs.

The placement of the inner light saturation was exactly the same as before, but my way was still well-lit by the streaming rays of sunlight spilling in through the gossamer curtains that covered every window. I didn't intentionally bother with moving quietly, but if I would've paid attention, I would've noticed that I was, in fact, hardly making a sound—not even my socks padded against the dark wood as I maneuvered down the hall.

Our bedroom.

I don't know why my instant assumption was that he would be there. After all, he almost never slept without me, and certainly, under these wretched circumstances, I doubted he would've slept at all.

Melancholy lover of mine. I'm so sorry.

I couldn't keep you safe from Kurapika forever.

My throat ached slightly, and the tears that had never quite dissipated from my eyes after leaving the apartments welled again—I was so tired of crying; I was so tired of conflict. I didn't want to fight anymore, now or ever. I only wanted to rest, and to be a secure place for him to rest.