Lucilfer (ChrolloxReader)

Chapter 70

‼️TW: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS TRAUMA/MEMORIES OF SEXUAL ASSAULT/PHYSICAL ABUSE/RAPE‼️

"I'm right here, (Y/n)," Kurapika promised, his voice quiet, as not to disturb my focus, but assuring nonetheless. "If anything happens, I'm right here. You're safe."

I could hardly expend the attention to nod, but my head dipped rigidly in acknowledgement, and inwardly, it was a hefty weight from my shoulders to know that someone was beside me while I maneuvered such a dangerous road through unkempt, buried memories and emotions. It felt entirely too exposing, vulnerable in a terrifying way that raised hairs on the back of my neck and sent a quiver of apprehension to the pit of my stomach, to sort through what I'd strived so long to keep dormant, to keep secret and hidden in the depths of my mind, which had more recently seemed as though it were barely tied together by a few loose threads. And although it pained me to be in need of his help for a technique which would only further pledge my soul to his most hated enemy, his own tormentor, I trusted him genuinely enough to be comforted by his presence, to find release in the fact that if I failed, he would be the shoulder I could lean on, for a temporary time.

At least I have someone with me.

I sat on the sofa with my legs crossed beneath me, and my hands resting slackly in my lap. It was almost more work to rid my body of its tension and keep my muscles relaxed than it would be to hold that tension, but in order to correctly maintain aura, it was necessary to release all strain. I'd also mentioned to Kurapika before we began that it was imperative for him, too, to stay physically calm, to keep his aura unintentional and his emotional climate as blank as possible—if there were any outside interferences, especially right as I was truly starting to earn a grip on this extension of Feeler, my focus would be completely thrown off, and I wasn't privy to experiencing the aftermath of so many unleashed sensations without properly tucking them away, not again.

I despised digging up those feelings of regret towards him, towards who I formerly knew as Kassidy, as well as the guilt and the eternal haze of blue I felt towards who he had created himself to be, a human vessel for an unyielding revenge, at a loss for any other desires. And just as well, I was deathly afraid of what his personal growth beside me would mean, those desires that I seemed to have stirred within him. I experienced it whenever I was near him, which was clearly, now, every day—he was confused, torn between the blind drive he'd latched onto and whatever it was he felt as though he owed to me, or wished to provide for me, such having risen closer to the surface of his mind purely because of the connection he felt to my own pain. These emotions were ones I had tried to ignore, especially in the absence of my lover, on the foundation that they would only cause further suffering, but now it was my responsibility to unearth them, to explore them and allow them to consume me.

That consummation of emotions was something I realized I'd only truly done once before, when I ultimately destroyed the catalyst of every revolting flashback or sickening memory. It was sparked by something Chrollo had told me before I'd set out with Machi and Shizuku, something consisting of the concept of purposefully drowning oneself in what is so furiously, and conventionally, fought against, succumbing to that darkness and accepting the fact that there may never be a light to shine or expose any details within it. I'd successfully achieved as much during the very moment when I stood over that wicked man's shuddering body, staring the source of so much grief and paralyzing trauma directly in the face.

There hadn't been as much agony there as I might've thought, in that place of surrender to the wildest, most violent turbulence in my heart. Mostly, if I had to peer back and describe the mind of the woman who accomplished that dragging task, I would say the only word which could truly fit it was chaotic. It wasn't peaceful, honestly, but there was peace in giving up the struggle, in releasing every rage and hatred towards the creator of my anguish. Giving in was purely chaotic, but after the fact, it was a breathtaking relief, a tranquility I couldn't find the particulars of. At the time, I could remember thinking that I understood a bit better how Chrollo remained so unbothered whenever he was surrounded by a chaos he created, because he knew not the answer to the question of why, only that he was finally under the throes of his self-serving delights, that he cared not for the repercussions it would send in the direction of others.