Lucilfer (ChrolloxReader)

Chapter 70

So, as a result, I'd come to the epiphany that my main tactic would be returning to everything I'd hidden, succumbing to it and allowing it to flow through my thoughts, unperturbed. I certainly didn't try to deny the fear it brought to my soul, but it was also necessary for me to accept that fear, as well, to see it as another darkness I could forgive myself for. In order to gain emotional clarity to the point of comprehending exactly what I would be projecting, I had to pull up the most difficult sorrows first, to dishevel the base of my feelings before shoving them out without understanding.

I'd already vowed them on Chrollo, so it wasn't possible for Kurapika to feel anything from my aura. In fact, I wouldn't be projecting my emotions more than I would be simply loosening them, working past my own hesitancy towards the moment of telling Chrollo the truth. That had become my largest barrier, even more so than remembering suppressed trauma—I had to be entirely and fully willing to release them as a byproduct of admitting to him what I'd done, in order to show him the repetitive guilt I felt, and still feel, the love I continued to feel for him every day, and the longing in my soul for him. But either way, I realized that if it were me telling him this, if I confessed to him and allowed him this vulnerability, he would hardly see it as an intentional betrayal. It was my responsibility to trust him as much as he trusted me, and doubt would only serve to hinder me now.

"I forgive you, little angel."

My eyes twitched against the urge to squeeze close tighter, and I let out a heavy, calming breath, maintaining the relaxation in my body and returning back to my mind. I suppressed the bubbling excitement from the sensation of my aura becoming denser, weightier—my emotions were coming loose again.

Truthfully, I was very surprised that I was able to find such a calm in performing this seemingly impossible task, especially in front of Kurapika. But perhaps my calm was a result of my desperation for my lover, so much so that I clearly was reaching that point of utter willingness to do what I must do. It was frightening, but it was complete elation, a freedom I'd felt only in dreams of eventually admitting to Chrollo, and hearing his exclusive praise in return—this burden would be lifted from my shoulders, and I would move on from whatever consequences came with exposing Kurapika.

I have to move on.

My emotions concerning Chrollo hadn't changed or shifted in the least; I loved him just as strongly as before, if not more so, and I took so much comfort in his ethereal safety, what he provided to only me. I'd accepted so much about him, and found so much beauty in the way he approached every one of his interests, be it philosophy or painting, music, and especially in the way he found so little understanding in why his goal was to destroy society, to steal whatever it was he desired from it, to break it down one facet at a time. To me, it seemed, that action combined with his lack of comprehension towards what it meant to himself was a sort of relief to him, a place where it wasn't necessary for him to ponder too deeply, to stay locked in his mind—he simply did. He tethered himself to his wants every time he indulged his goal, his livelihood, and in that livelihood, he was free of awareness of himself, of his reasons, and therefore, subconsciously, did not wish to comprehend. In some cases, it might even be labeled as hedonistic, but even if he couldn't understand it, I admired it.

My emotions concerning Kurapika, however, had shifted dramatically. Of course, I still felt sadness, and shared much of his pain; I still hated the fact that he was beginning to lose the whole of his identity of some fragile concept of revenge, though even he had come to the fringes of the realization that completing such revenge would only provide him with the same nothingness he'd been trapped in for years. In essence, I didn't deny that I cared for him, but that I had come to terms with his fate on behalf of my lover. All of this remained the same—what had shifted was the rigidity and the tentative trepidation towards the extent of his feelings for me. I certainly wished to be an escape for him, while I could, but it seemed that he was latching too closely to what I provided for him, and that terrified me. I didn't want to explore that topic or those possibilities at all, but it was vital that I do so in order to fully release the hidden anxieties in my mind and develop Feeler.