Lucilfer (ChrolloxReader)

Chapter 64

‼️INTENSE TW: EXPLICIT MEMORIES OF RAPE/ABUSE/CUTTING. VIEWER DISCRETION IS STRONGLY ADVISED‼️

My ears seemed to ring unbearably loud in the silence upon awakening, and my body felt cold—too cold. A shiver crawled down my arms and left goosebumps in its wake, forcing my rigid limbs to tighten tiredly beneath the heavy, furry blankets, bringing them up snugly around my neck and shoulders. Instinctively, I shifted forward, searching for a source of heat to nuzzle closer to, but there was none. My eyes flickered and flitted open, unfocused, gazing numbly forward at the wooden bedside table, illuminated by early dawn streams, and it took me several unclear moments to remember why it looked so empty. Only the little lamp and my phone laid drearily overtop, indicating a yawning loneliness and a barrenness unfit for words, but present in the organized, dull room, which was uncluttered by books or extra clothes.

Furrowing my brows slightly, I heaved enough will in my arms to sit up gradually, still affected by a mild sense of disorientation, and turned my head with slow, unhurried movements, glancing through dry, swollen eyelids at the oddly vacant bed, the grayness of the balcony doors, and the dazedly shadowed wardrobe. The bathroom door was cracked open, as was the closet door—everything appeared the same, apart from the floor, which was unoccupied by its usual cluster of books, and the bedside table. So, why did it feel so different?

There was a stunned deadness in the way I stared at the mussed black sheets and the fleecy velvet of the pillows, the dark sheen of the headboard and the covering burgundy of the blankets, all of which had held such beauty before this moment, but now each of them seemed to mourn. They echoed one word in the suffocation of the morning—isolation.

Chrollo is gone.

Dull realization crept into my awareness and infected my blank sight, turning everything around me gray, pulling the life from my rested body and reeling me back down into the pillows. My eyes were sore—they stung from the tears they'd carried the previous night; they stung from the piercing emptiness of the room. As I laid motionlessly, my gaze glazed and glassy, stifled and desolate, a replay of brief memories from the moments before I'd fallen asleep rose to the forefront of my mind, taunting me or comforting me, I couldn't tell.

"Please don't go," I whimpered again, clutching onto his hand as though it were a life-saving vessel. I sniffled and squeezed my eyes shut, furrowing my brows roughly and sending a muted throb to my temples. "Chrollo, please."

Every dream I'd had of spending the summer with him, carefree and unbothered by stress, unaware at the time of the mocking threats sent by fate, itself, with the truth of who Kassidy really was, were gone, diminished—they'd entirely disappeared. We wouldn't have the chance to spend warm, late nights on the roof, laughing or talking of deep things, melancholy things, until I eventually was driven into exhaustion on his chest beneath the stars; I wouldn't be able to tell him of my desire to see the ocean, or whatever else there was to see in summertime. It was supposed to be my first summer of freedom, spent beside my gentle, beautiful lover, but instead, I would be just as chained and imprisoned by the weight of what I knew, and the shackles of being alone.

Chrollo's arms around me flexed, and his cradling hold tightened, bringing me closer to his body on his lap and pressing an adoring kiss to my forehead. Slowly, he breathed in and out, steady and secure, always steady and secure. Tears streamed quietly from my closed eyelids and left my cheeks glistening with the touch of sadness, of brokenness, as I buried my face in the crook of his neck, inhaling raggedly the scent of smokey lavender, the scent I would miss desperately.

"I'm sorry, my love," he murmured softly. "I hate that this must come to pass. But I'm still here. I haven't left yet. I'm still here, pretty (Y/n)."