Sanctuary (Chrollo x OC)

22. Duty

^^^ see this? This is fanart of Azuma by nekoturtle and it's literally amazing and all i ever wanted. Check nekoturtle out. 

   The air feels heavy in Chrollo's lungs. And only a half beat later—"No." A moment, "You know I can't stay."

The woman beside him closes her eyes and murmurs a breathy: "Of course."

It's not as if there's no appeal in the offer. Perhaps it's the very fact that the offer is so enchanting that makes Chrollo jerk away from it so vehemently. Azuma glows in the daylight like a creature of mythos—hair all lit up and black-gold and Chrollo can still hardly find the breath in his lungs when he looks at her for a few moments too long. When he closes his eyes he can see the small house and can remember the calm he felt with her there and perhaps it's this fact that terrifies him so.

"Azuma," he says—voice only loud enough to be heard, "it's not as if I don't feel anything...I've enjoyed it, I think." He brushes a finger over the cross on his forehead and tries to ignore the uncertainty in his voice. "I feel something and it feels wonderful and important but..." He bites his lip. "No matter what I may ever feel...nothing can be more important than my duty...my troupe. They're my family, you know?"

The wind blows and Azuma looks sad, or bitter. A small smile—like wilted rose. "Of course I know that, Chrollo. I know you."

That sounds important—of course. Right, Azuma knows him. Why had he even bothered with an explanation? She... It's strange—no one has ever... Of course Chrollo is close with his troupe, but even then he's never let himself be laid out and cloaked nude in the way he's let himself now. Although he supposes that's only natural—Azuma has always had a way of tearing down walls. Still, it's strange; the feeling of his mask being rendered clear and useless.

"Right," he says, breathless, "you do. Why...why did you even ask me? You know this—you know all of this."

She hesitates, looking pained and looking lovelorn. Something in Chrollo's heart constricts. "I do, Chrollo, I do." There's a heavy—tired—weight to her words. "But I couldn't just..." she bites her lip, "It's not as though I could not try." She meets his eyes and it's green on grey. "I wanted to cling to a hope," she blinks, sighs. "I suppose it's true that perfection is the enemy of the good."

Chrollo's silence feels like an excuse. "Yeah..." he murmurs—the knowledge that this outcome was his choice weighing heavy on his heart. "That makes sense..." He trails off, holding back the words on his tongue.

Azuma cocks her head, her stature already seeming to be in recovery. Her back is a little bit straighter, he face a little less vulnerable. It's impressive, he thinks, how she's able to spring back from these things so fluidly. "Yes? You were going to say something."

He hesitates a moment. A sigh, "I just..." he trails off, breathes deep, speaks again. "I suppose I just didn't want to choose...I wanted to continue on the same as before and not have to decide...not have to think about it."

"Chrollo..." Azuma says, tender and careful. "Is that not what I myself offered? You can stay however long you'd like."

"It's different," the man answers, "you know it's different."

The woman looks at him, scrutinizing. Chrollo meets her eyes—all green and deep and all-seeing. Her lips tighten. "You go against yourself," she says—and she's just cryptic enough for Chrollo to cling to the hope that she doesn't mean what he thinks she does.

Chrollo just barely frowns, "Meaning?" Because he's always hated uncertainty.

Azuma pauses a second, "You wanted to stay." A small pause, "I'm sure of it." And the mid afternoon light behind her head makes her hair—her entire being—light up all gold and radiant. Chrollo is left to wither under the weight of her gaze and, really, all he can do is snap.