Lucilfer (ChrolloxReader)

Chapter 84

There was a part of him who wanted to believe that I didn't know what he was talking about, what he referenced so coldly, but that part was weak and faint in stature—I could see as much, too, in his eyes. He knew better than to become an optimist, even for me, for the very binder of his darkened soul. He had reverted to every characteristic he'd come to know as Chrollo Lucilfer, and my lover was buried beneath it.

Hence why he's dressed in such a way.

My own soul crumbled, breaking down into trillions of sorrowful pieces. Every step I'd made with him towards moving on from the demons of my childhood, shattered; every encouraging word he'd spoken to me, every coaxing touch and gentle reminder that I was not who I had been convinced I was, a worthless object of pleasure meant for the whims of others, all of it was tarnished now, blotted and ruined. I felt nothing like the strong individual he'd helped me become, and it was no one's fault but my own.

I can't lie to you.

But it wasn't supposed to happen this way. He wasn't supposed to hear from anyone else's mouth the treacherous secret that I kept. What had happened to all of those nights of reassurance? What had happened to the promises of forgiveness? What had happened to the knowledge he held of my anxieties, and the promise to handle them with care?

If it had been you who'd told him, maybe it wouldn't be this way. But he knows now, and there's nothing you can do to change that.

He knows that you've been friends with the chain user since the first time he'd asked you who Kassidy was.

He knows you've comforted the chain user and called him and sent him meaningless "good morning" messages.

He knows you've spent a month and a half living at the chain user's apartment while he was away, trusting you. He was trusting you.

He'd always trusted me so willingly despite his own inner tendencies towards possession. He'd put away every vice in his heart just to allow mine a soft place to fall. All of that, and I was the one who stood with a dagger to his back.

My hand slowly withdrew from his face, the face which had become so expressionless and unfeeling, and yet it spoke of every burden in the world. I faltered back a single step, my mouth parting and my breaths coming in quiet, muted gasps, while a plagued acceptance dawned in his hazy gaze, as if he had just now decided there was no doubt in his assumption. I watched as he suffocated the disbelief threatening to cloud his demeanor, covering it with something too patient. It terrified me. Everything I'd ever feared he would become, everything I'd convinced myself he would never resort to, not with me, was revealing itself before my eyes.

There was a resilience, a contempt, in my mind for it, however, though perhaps it was my own last attempt at scrambling for a guard, for a way to shroud his view of the trillions of pieces my soul had broken down to—he'd always been able to see directly into my soul. But this resilience became spite, and that spite was formed out of irrationality, hatred for Kurapika, hatred for what Kurapika had done to the only place that offered me safety. I didn't want to give his name the satisfaction of being spoken into words.

I tried to swallow down the strangling lump in my throat, but I couldn't. My features twisted mutedly with the repressed sobs as I held a foreign gaze, and I was only able to pull one name to my lips in an ignorant hope of bringing life back to the inhumanly still figure before me.

"Chrollo-"

"Do. Not. Ignore. My question." His voice was low, and monotone, and he spoke every word separate, yet there was still that off-putting edge of velvet—my breathing hitched and further shallowed at the sound. "I will not repeat myself, (Y/n). Answer me."