Lucilfer (ChrolloxReader)

Chapter 88

‼️CONTENT WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS *CONSENSUAL* SEXUAL CONTENT‼️

Peace—it was all around us, hanging from the bedposts and curling through the room with the dissipating sunset of midsummer. It draped with every rise and fall of the heavy blankets covering our entangled bodies, releasing out alongside slumbering breaths and pretty words. It wasn't perfect; it wasn't flawless or untainted by worry. But it was enough for the two of us. It was enough for me.

How long had I slaved away under my own fear? How long had I ignored every coaxing urge from my gentle lover to divulge my anxieties on the hope that I might have a better plan? Looking back, perhaps my ignorance had been foolish, or perhaps it showed my previously true lack of complete trust. But did any of that really matter now? Were those vices of any real importance?

I'd grown stronger by the keeping of this secret, and by the catastrophic road to release it had taken. My love for Chrollo had only solidified, and through the development of Feeler Inversion, my ability to trust had increased exponentially, flourishing under his watchful gaze, his attentive, persuading demeanor. I'd thought, before, that I understood every hidden leeway that the action of learning to trust opened up, but if I would've gone back and shown my prior self the depth of my soul that I'd willingly allowed him to see, to keep, my prior self would be frozen in a state of horror. There were memories, events, buried in my soul that not even I wished to uncover, and yet I'd found the strength to give them to Chrollo, to release them, to trust him.

And I wouldn't ever take anything back.

All of this, and I could finally rest. I had done my part; I had committed too many mistakes and made leaps and bounds to correct them. And it wrenched a razor blade into my chest to know that I'd hurt him, that the knowledge of my betrayal still hurt him, but I couldn't dwell on the stupid things I'd done. Remaining in that self hatred would only drive us further apart, and so I pledged myself to full ownership, knowing that it would be a short while before I could bandage the gash I'd administered to his soul.

But it did lead to peace. Even the eerie gloom weighing down on his aura, that separate desolation which never quite faded away, allowed me some sort of relief. It worried me, however—every time I looked into his eyes, I could see it haunting him, as if he carried some predisposed knowledge, a forewarning indicating an abrupt end, or fear of an abrupt end. I wished I could kiss these fears away, as well, but something hovering and dark remained in place over my desire to do so, and I never questioned him. Perhaps I'd been too exhausted by disaster and terror, and so by consequence, I left those terrors alone, tentative towards approaching them and discovering what they might point to; perhaps if I had done the opposite of leaving those terrors alone, I would've been able to prevent my scarlet nightmares from soon becoming a vile reality.

Beyond our untouchable little moment of peace, I knew that I needed to remain open to answering his questions, as much as they would hurt. I didn't exactly wish to recall moments around Kurapika that had been spent feeling unsafe or in danger, taken advantage of or exposed, but Chrollo deserved any facet of the truth he wanted to have. And although his inner turmoil was at the forefront of my focus, although I was determined to remain reassuring and comforting for him, I, myself, writhed under the recurring images of Kurapika's wrath, the words he'd spoken, the way he'd touched me.

"You're wearing his clothes, aren't you? Take them off."

"...how many times has he forced your hand?"

"I will kill him."

I'd lived through twelve hours of unclear processing, and even shoved aside any minor steps my subconscious had taken towards completely submerging in the shock administered by those words, but now that peace had come and passed, I felt left alone with those words, at the mercy of their mocking renditions. Echoing words often became a visual source for me—I couldn't shake the absolute horror in my mind which reeled back from the picture of Chrollo as a source of my trauma. I winced back from it; it sent rigid shudders down my spine and tensed every muscle in my body.