Lucilfer (ChrolloxReader)

Chapter 13

**TW**: MEMORIES OF VERBAL/SEXUAL ASSAULT
❗️CONTENT WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS *CONSENSUAL* SEXUAL CONTENT❗️

At first, I couldn't decide how to react. My heart kept starting and stopping, stuttering frantically and unsteadily. Chrollo's gaze still held mine, calm and collected and unknowingly silently reminding me that this was the reason I began training with him in the first place.

"What...?"

The word came out of my mouth involuntarily, like I was still searching for what to say but felt the need to fill the quiet tension around us. My hands were clenched together tightly, my knuckles white with the force.

"I-I'm not ready." I shook my head, my eyes wide. "I can't—Chrollo, I might kill you."

I felt short of breath at the image produced in my head, at the crushing sensation of fear. My mind seemed to block it—I was trying to imagine it, but I almost couldn't.

More than that, though, I was scared of what this might mean for me. Chrollo was, essentially, a bandit—that was the nature of his troupe. Could he have only been through everything with me just to keep me comfortable and learning quickly in a stable environment, meanwhile planning on discarding me when he was finished? I didn't want things to end that way. There was so much left unsaid and unexplained; there was so much I wanted to know about him. I wanted to learn him and stay with him and I wanted him to love me. God, I wanted him to love me so badly.

But he doesn't. He's been lying to you.

No. No, he isn't like that.

Yes, he is. Nobody could ever actually want you.

You're broken and dirty and used and trash. He'll take from you what he needs and then leave you.

He's going to leave you.

Chrollo is going to leave me.

"(Y/n)?"

His soft, comforting, safe and steady and velvety smooth voice that always found me when I was sad or lost brought my vision back to focus, and I blinked away the mistiness threatening at the edges of my eyes.

I knew this would happen, didn't I? I've trained almost every day for it.

"Chrollo, I-"

He stopped me by placing his warm palm gently on my cheek. A lump grew painfully in my throat as I looked into his wide, honest gaze.

"What is it that scares you, (Y/n)?" he asked quietly, his voice sincere.

Well, that was a loaded question. But at the same time, I couldn't find the words to answer it out loud, or even in my own head. The first thing that came to mind whenever I asked myself that question was always everything. It was impossible for me to pinpoint exactly where my fears came from—either that, or I kept myself from the discovery for the exact reason being fear, itself. Consequently, though, I was too separated from the world and its contents, too isolated from the minimal knowledge required to be a functioning member of society, to be able to safely dodge that sort of self-discovery and continue on unharmed.

What is it that scares me?

    Was it loneliness? At first, I thought the answer might be yes. The thought of living the rest of my life alone with only the memories of my past to haunt my every step was utterly despondent and empty. That emptiness would become such a dark void inside of me, such a lost and endlessly wandering path to take. But was that the worst it could be? Was I really afraid of loneliness?