We'd only been driving for about twenty minutes when I reminded myself that I needed to call Kassidy. I bit my lip and flickered my gaze down to the digital clock in the car.
10:03 a.m.
Largely, the reason I didn't want to call him in the car with Chrollo was because I honestly felt guilty, as though I should be talking to Chrollo, not Kassidy, as though he might be jealous or displeased. But I'd promised Kassidy, and I didn't want to wait until we were home to call him. I wanted to spend my time at home with Chrollo—even though it'd only been a day and a half, I felt like a week had passed, or more, since I'd spent real time with him. And part of that was true; so many of my thoughts in the last week had been about the mission. I'd barely allowed myself any down time from it.
I guess I did go to dinner with Chrollo... and then I topped him.
My lips turned up a bit at the memory, but that felt so far away.
I should just call Kassidy now and stop putting it off, I scolded myself inwardly.
With my heart beating illogically fast, I pulled my phone out, my hands slightly shaky, and turned it on, opening Kassidy's contact. My mouth dried as I forced words to come out.
"Chrollo?"
His head turned minutely to the side, and he smiled softly.
"Yes?"
I inhaled, releasing it in a relaxing sigh, and blinked a few times.
"Um, Kassidy asked me to call him," I stated, tentative. "Would you mind if I did that now?"
Without even a single change in expression, he turned back to the road and shrugged.
"Go ahead, love," he murmured, his voice gentle and otherwise monotone.
A relieved grin broke out over my face, and I nodded, bringing the phone up to my ear as I tapped the "call" icon.
I don't know why I get so worked up over asking a simple question.
Of course, it was still difficult to separate what I'd been surrounded by in my tarnished childhood versus what I knew as fact for the present.
Curiosity fluttered in my chest as the phone rang, and I wondered what Kassidy wanted to call me for. If he wanted to talk about my expedition, I knew I wouldn't be able to find it in myself to give him many details. Thinking about it was exhausting, and made me want to curl back up in a ball in Chrollo's arms, as if its memory made me unsafe, and I needed to crawl back to what I knew as safety to protect myself from it. Or, perhaps Kassidy just wanted to ask me to make plans with him again, though that felt a bit out of sorts to call someone for after their revenge mission against human traffickers.
The tone purred four or five times before the phone was picked up. I heard a sharp inhale on the other end, and what sounded like a yawn. I was a bit caught off guard by the innocence in the action—simply hearing his breath was so different than being around him and feeling the infinite sadness and incurable rage in his aura. I smiled widely.
"Hello?"
Kassidy's voice was rough and low, sleep fraying the edges of the normally smooth, sweet sound.
Oh, did I wake him up?
I'd heard Chrollo's sleepy voice before—it always made my heart race and my skin tingle—but hearing Kassidy's filled me with a sort of melting admiration. Probably, that was the case simply because I was always so used to his mysterious pain.
That's kind of adorable, I admitted to myself, but I would've never said it out loud.
"Hey, Kass," I greeted him, my voice quiet in the silence of the car.
Out of the corner of my vision, I saw Chrollo's gaze flit at me once, expressionless and calm, a hand gripping the steering wheel lightly and the other on my thigh. I rested a palm overtop absently.
"Huh?" Kassidy sounded mildly confused for just a moment, pausing hesitantly before continuing, his voice a bit brighter, but still tired. "O-oh, hey, (Y/n)! How are you? Are you okay? Sorry, I just woke up. I feel out of sorts."
A small laugh escaped my lips and I shrugged, as if he could see it.
"Honestly, I'm not even sure if I've woken up yet," I scoffed warily. "I'm okay. Everything's okay. Um, should I call back later...? You can sleep more, if you need to."
On the other end of the line, I heard the muffled noise of blankets shifting and a bed creaking mutedly.
"No, no, this is great; now is great," he insisted, yawning again. "It's, uh... it's really good to hear your voice. I worried about you a lot."
My brows slanted a bit over my eyes, and my heart fluttered compassionately.
"It's good to hear your voice, too." I smiled, and mildly noted the way Chrollo's grip tightened infinitesimally over my thigh. "You didn't have to worry about me. I was protected."
I found myself hedging over the topic—I still didn't want to discuss it. Kassidy understood that, though, which I was glad for. At least, it wasn't within his intentions to press me at all.
"Okay, good." I could hear the crooked grin in his words. "I still worried, though. But I'm happy for you. Where are you headed now?"
"Mm, just back home," I murmured, looking down at Chrollo's slender fingers and twiddling his thumb distractedly between mine. "I need to sleep for a long time. But I need coffee first, and a shower. God, I need caffeine so bad."
His husky, sleepy, breathy chuckle sounded against his speaker, and I laughed quietly, too.
"I'm making coffee right now, actually," he pointed out.
"Jealous," I muttered playfully. "So, what did you want me to call you for?"
There was a short silence on the other end—I could sense him thinking.
"I don't even know if I want to talk about it now." He sighed. "It could be nothing. It just feels like extra stress that I don't really want to bring up with you—damn you for making me want happiness, (Y/n)." His last sentence was spoken through another soft laugh, mostly joking. "But seriously, I don't want to burden you with anything."
Peculiarly, I bit my lip. I understood what he meant with the "happiness" statement, and even though he sounded flippant when he said it, and I couldn't see his expression, I still wondered about the deeper undercurrent whipping beneath those words.
In response to why he called me, my head tilted. "It's alright, honestly. You can tell me, if you want to."
"Are you sure?" He inhaled pensively.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
Again, Kassidy paused, wavering. I waited expectantly.
"I think I have a lead," he admitted, and even though he tried to sound solemn, I could hear the smug victory in his voice. "Or, I don't know. But I'm pretty sure who I'm looking for is still hanging around the city."
In surprise, my eyebrows shot up, and I smiled widely.
"Kass, that's great! What makes you seem so on the fence about it?" I inquired.
Truthfully, I still didn't know much about who he was looking for, but that didn't bother me. I respected the fact that it was secret for now, and I hoped he would tell me in the future, as we became closer. In my congratulations for him, though, I was very conscious of Chrollo's attentiveness beside me.
He's probably listening to everything I'm saying.
"I'm just not sure about how reliable my source was," Kassidy hedged. "I guess something is better than the nothing I've been accruing for months now. I have to meet with a few members from my workplace today to discuss it. If we can do some decent tracking, we might come up with something—inconspicuous appearances in the city, or even a temporary location. It's all pretty blind right now, but maybe things will get better."
I hope they get better for you, Kassidy.
"That sounds amazing. I'm happy for you."
"Yeah," he whispered, and he sounded much more tentative and serious. "Anyway, I guess I, uh... really just wanted to hear your voice, and tell you that. But whenever you're ready, we should plan something."
Something about his words were unsure, as if there was a piece of the story he was leaving out, or some other bit he wanted to tell me, but it was glossed over. I was curious, but I didn't want to push him. If we hung out soon, maybe he'd tell me then—I always enjoyed his mildness and sweet demeanor, when it could be separated from the strange maturity brought on by his own sad past, and it made my heart content to hear that I at least offered him some comfort.
"Yeah, I-I'll let you know," I stammered quickly, smiling. "Soon?"
"Sure." He chuckled, but there was a twinge of remorse in the relaxed trill. "Goodbye, (Y/n). I'll text you when I can."
"Okay. Bye, Kass."
I wish he wasn't so secretive, I thought, my brows slanting again when I heard the call cut.
Turning off my phone and placing it back in my pocket with a heavy sigh, I looked up at the road and then back to Chrollo. His jaw was pulled taut, but his amber-gray eyes betrayed nothing, his hand still firmly in place on my thigh. I pursed my lips nervously—he always seemed so unreadable when his hair was slicked and he wore his dramatic clothing.
But I like that.
His pretty, porcelain skin was only barely shadowed by the purple brushes beneath his eyes, his forehead tattoo halfway visible as he stared at the road. I longed to be home so I could ruffle his hair and curl up next to his body heat.
"You were listening," I accused jokingly.
Blinking slowly, he nodded and smiled slightly.
"I couldn't make out much of what he was saying," he murmured quietly. "The volume one your phone is low—the only thing I really paid much attention to was him saying how much he appreciated hearing your voice."
My cheeks warmed a bit, and I shrugged sheepishly, unresponsive. Chrollo side-eyed me, more warmth dancing in his wide eyes.
"Personally, I think he has good taste." His velvety voice was light as he raised an eyebrow. "Your voice is one of my favorite sounds."
Scoffing and rolling my eyes, while inwardly grinning ear to ear, I leaned back in my seat.
"What is your favorite sound?" I asked, tilting my head curiously.
At that, I noticed his gaze darken, and his hand constricted over my thigh. My heartbeat stuttered—I knew instantly what he was about to say, and the tips of my ears burned.
"Hearing you whimper," Chrollo stated, his tone suddenly lower and huskier. "Or hearing you plead."
I pursed my lips and hummed absently, turning my face to look out of the window to hide the small, knowing smile over my mouth.
"All the same," I murmured through my smirk. "Though, I'm glad you didn't say that earlier. I was too tired to really notice, but Kalluto kept looking at us."
Chrollo chuckled softly, enchantingly.
"I think it's only fair, even if he did hear us." His tone was slightly pointed and victorious. "Machi and Shizuku apparently know every detail about me."
I groaned, exasperated, playfully shoving his hand away, but he just caught mine and laced our fingers together. Turning to face him, I saw the wide smirk on his lips—I couldn't help but laugh a little bit.
Curiously, at the mention of Machi, I flickered my gaze down to the speedometer. I didn't usually notice how fast he apparently drove, but after driving with her, I wanted to see for myself.
104 mph. Well, damn.
"How do you never get in trouble for driving so fast?" I inquired, breaking the short, contented silence.
"Because the law enforcement in York New City is shit, to put things crassly." With a shrug, he sighed. "But I could just as easily get away, even if I was caught, or kill the officer."
His statement was matter-of-fact, as if that would have been an obvious option—but for him, I knew it was. I was surprised, though, at the incompetence of the law in York New; I'd always been told it was an upstanding city, the kind of place where morale was strictly drilled into its citizens, the droning regulars, only obscured by the occasionally passionate human with passionate interests. It was why I wanted to go there after escaping—of course, at that time, I didn't ever think it possible to grow strong enough for any sort of revenge. Perhaps, I'd believed, I could have found some help.
But I found Chrollo.
The thought made me infinitely more relieved. In fact, the more I dwelled on it, the more I began to agree with his predeterminism, his acceptance of fate, as much as I didn't want to. I wanted to be able to control my own destiny—surely, fate wasn't kind to all who stepped in Her path. In a way, though, I was grateful for it. I didn't like being out of control, but if the cards fell in my favor at all, I was more than willing to relax in Her palms.
I wonder if Chrollo sees fate as a sort of deity?
His expression had fallen emotionless again, his pretty eyes unbothered and focused ahead, his thumb stroking softly over the back of my hand. Checking the time, I realized we still had around forty minutes until we arrived home. Those minutes seemed to be passing incredibly slowly.
"What do you know about Kalluto?" I asked, in an effort to fill the quiet, as well as satisfy an interest I'd been mulling over earlier.
"Mostly everything," he amended, his tone absent, but somehow entirely invested, that strange oneness he felt with the Troupe tinting his words. "I've known his brother for quite a while, and I've fought his father twice, and his grandfather once, though the one time I fought his grandfather was when they'd both teamed up to kill me."
I blinked, concerned and alarmed, and felt my fingers involuntarily tighten around his.
"What do you mean, you fought them?" I asked nervously, my voice mildly shaky. "And... they tried to kill you? Did you win?"
Pursing his lips, Chrollo shrugged and leaned back a bit, memories dancing in his dark irises.
"They're all professional assassins, and extremely powerful Nen users," he explained, calculating. "When I'd first fought Silva—Kalluto's father—my technique was very green. We still reached an impasse, however, and the fight was given up. The second time, with Silva and Zeno—Kalluto's grandfather—I hadn't bothered with trying to kill them, or even trying to win. I'd already commissioned him and his brother, Illumi, to assassinate Silva's and Zeno's clients, and I had faith that they would complete the job quite quickly, since those clients weren't Nen users. They did, and our fight was over—Zeno said something about being in the business for the money, not for the fun of it, though I guarantee Silva would have disagreed."
My breathing felt heightened, my heartbeat quick. I didn't like the fact that Chrollo's livelihood put him in such danger.
"What if they'd killed you?" I whispered.
I hadn't realized how tightly I was gripping his hand—my knuckles were strained over his slender fingers. Inhaling deeply, I forced my limbs to relax, and I loosened my hold as much as I could.
His face turned to mine for a moment, tilted and curious.
"But they didn't," he assured me, his smooth voice suddenly warm and sympathetic. "I knew that they wouldn't really have the time to kill me. It's why I didn't bother really fighting at all. I was practically on defense the entire time." As he looked back to the road, I noticed a thoughtful expression appear over his features, his eyes narrowing. "I found it interesting that Zeno was able to tell that I wasn't actually trying to kill him. I don't typically aim for murder when it comes to fair fights between Nen users, mostly because I couldn't care less about mindless quarrels, unless there are... other... circumstances."
Other circumstances...?
An odd, reminiscent sadness crept into his last few words, as if he was recalling a time when he had been forced to act under those mysteriously unexplained circumstances. But I couldn't fathom why he would be despondent about it. Actually, no—not despondency, on second thought. It was more like an ancient void, a sort of heavy loss played by a mournful requiem. I wondered, but I didn't ask. If Chrollo wished to tell me, I was sure he would have.
Most likely, however, it had to do with some of the paradoxical, unreadable facets of his confused identity, some part that he couldn't describe, or some confession he dared not to make. My brows lowered a bit, and my fingers traced comfortingly over the back of his hand from where they were twined with his.
Perhaps a death of some kind?
"Kalluto reminds me of a young version of myself," he pondered aloud, slowly, but I wasn't sure if he was necessarily speaking to me. "It's who I've always seen him as. I recognize the traces of shattered humanity and woeful acceptance in his eyes. One thing I can see he fights for, though, is perfection, something I've never given much mind to. It's obvious to me that he feels as though he has something to prove, but he is already a Spider. It makes me wonder about what the reason why might be."
His words struck me as familiar—I'd thought much the same when I was doing my best to discreetly analyze the young assassin. I recognized a strange air about him when he was near Chrollo, like some form of high respect, a bit different than the camaraderie and acknowledgement of the chain of command between the other members.
"I think he sees you as a father figure," I said quietly.
I wasn't expecting the jolted reaction I earned from Chrollo, the way his head snapped to mine and his hand tensed slightly. His eyes were intense, shocked, his mouth open as though there was something he wanted to say, but couldn't. But this expression didn't last long—it shifted to something disbelieving, something thoughtful and muted, when he slowly turned back to the road.
"What makes you think that?" he asked, his tone barely a whisper.
My face heated, and I bit my lip.
"I-I don't know—it's just a hunch," I mumbled. "I guess I could be wrong. There's just, um... something very reverent about his energy when he's around you. Like, he looks up to you."
Humming distractedly, thoughtfully, Chrollo furrowed his brows. He appeared deep in some sort of a frozen current, unable to really process what I'd said.
I hope I didn't say anything I shouldn't have, I worried inwardly.
"I've never noticed that before," he mused, his voice low. "Or, I suppose, I've simply never considered it. How interesting."
I breathed a silent sigh of relief—he didn't look offended or shocked anymore, just wondering. But he didn't say anything else about the topic.
"Would you like to make coffee, or shower first, my love?" he inquired softly, shifting back to his familiarly calm demeanor.
"Shower." I nodded. "Definitely, shower. But let's get coffee afterwards."
It always surprised me, how quickly Chrollo could move his focus from something. I knew him, though, and I knew it would most likely put him in deep thought later, perhaps in the middle of the night when he so often laid awake, holding me close after the lights were turned low and he wasn't reading or painting anymore. My assumption I'd made was truthful, regardless—it made me a little sad for Kalluto. And I could also see what Chrollo meant when he said Kalluto reminded him of himself. Much of the same coldness towards humanity in Chrollo's gaze was present in Kalluto's.
"I was hoping you'd say that," Chrollo whispered, a smirk in his voice.
I rolled my eyes and squeezed his hand, smiling widely.
"I'm giving you permission to drive like a madman," I stated, paraphrasing what he'd told me only a few days ago when I'd spent the afternoon with Kassidy.
"Only for you, my love," he whispered gently.
The car revved slightly, and I kept myself from peering over at the speedometer. Instead of dwelling on the dangers of going far too quick on the narrow highway, I closed my eyes and thought about Chrollo in the shower. An absent grin formed over my lips, and time seemed to progress even slower than before as my anticipation to be home increased.
——————————————————
Steam fogged the enormous mirror in his illustrious bathroom as the water turned to a scald. Lightly hopping off of the counter, I padded forward and lowered the heat a bit, humming to myself as I waited for Chrollo to come back with fresh clothes for me and for him.
Finally stepping through the front doors felt like an infinitely heavy weight was lifted from my shoulders. I couldn't find the words to describe the sensation of the dancing freedom that had coursed through my veins, my entire body. The last time I'd seen this house felt like far too long ago, not just a day and a half ago, and truthfully, yesterday morning—most likely because I'd hardly gotten any sleep in the last twenty-four hours. Because of this, exhaustion hit me like a war truck as soon as I'd started up the stairs—but Chrollo didn't waste time or words before scooping me up immediately and carrying my heavy limbs, despite the weak protests I'd made. His head had shook back and forth, and he'd kissed my cheek softly in reply.
I miss kissing him.
My body was still tired, and I knew that even after I drank coffee, I'd need to take a nap.
Turning my head at the sound of the door opening quietly, I felt my face flush at the sight of Chrollo's bare body. I watched as he unfolded my clothes on the counter and placed them next to his, tracing the rippling spider tattoo on his back with my eyes. Strangely, though his perfect form always made my heart burn with desire, all I wanted for that day was to be comforted, to feel his arms around me. And I was aware, and endlessly glad, that he knew as much, too.
Chrollo swiveled on his heels, his eyes gentle as he placed a palm on either side of my face and leaned down to kiss my forehead. Sighing contentedly into my skin, he grasped my hand and walked me into the spacious shower, not bothering to close the sliding glass door. I shivered and ran my fingers through my hair once, allowing the warm water to trail through it and relax my tense muscles.
When I lowered my arms and fluttered my eyelids against the beating droplets, I felt his hands on my waist, pulling me closer to his body. I laughed lightly—his wavy hair was already loosened and matted against his forehead.
"You're so pretty," I whispered, smiling up at him and leaning in to press my lips to his throat.
"Mmm." He lifted my chin, his nose brushing mine. I stared, captivated, into his half-open, almost-hazel eyes, admiring the way the water dripped gracefully down from his long, dark eyelashes. "I love you, my (Y/n)."
His parted lips grazed mine, but we didn't connect. With a smile still in place, I reached up to trace some of the hair stuck wildly around his forehead away, creating a better view of his tattoo and angular structure. He exhaled softly into my mouth, his eyes closing slowly, blissfully.
"I love you, Chrollo," I murmured in return.
His hand at my neck tensed, and he pulled me tighter to his chest, kissing me gently.
That shower was exactly what I'd needed. Feeling Chrollo's lips against mine, his body pressed to me, whispering sweet words in my ears as he lathered shampoo into my hair and trailed his fingers down my back, working stress out of my shoulder blades—all of it was incredibly relaxing, relieving. His thumbs pushed careful circles into my sore muscles, his nose trailing lightly over the side of my neck.
I found peace in the action of massaging my fingers into his hair, as well, washing out the lavender-scented shampoo and gazing absently at his pale skin, the way his body shuddered occasionally at my touch. When it'd been completely rinsed out, I applied conditioner and did the same thing to him, pushing gently into his backside in rhythmic circular motions—it was really hard to, though. His muscles were extremely tense, which was probably because he slept so seldomly.
Eventually, I sighed and rested my head against his shoulders, my arms wrapped around his waist as I hugged him from behind. I felt Chrollo's hands grip my wrists, his chest expanding with each breath.
I wonder if he's ever been cared for like this in the past, I wondered to myself, a little sad. If not, that makes two of us.
We stayed like that under the water for quite a while, Chrollo letting me hold him loosely, my eyes distractedly trailing over the nooks and breaks in the mismatched neutral stone tile walls. But after a little bit, he turned around suddenly and pressed his lips to mine again. This time, however, his hands snaked around the back of my head and held me in place, the water beating down around us and creating a warm, humid atmosphere. My tongue clashed with his, eliciting an almost pained groan from the back of his throat—his slender fingers brushed my wet hair away, pointedly tracing his tattoo on the back of my neck and biting down on my bottom lip. Shivering, I whimpered quietly into his mouth.
"That sound," Chrollo whispered against me, his voice just a husky breath.
I chuckled weakly as my hands knotted into fists around his waist and he pulled away, always slow and gentle. His eyes were hooded, glimmering with a passion I couldn't exactly put into words, but somehow, I knew what it meant.
Once again, I rested my head against his chest—his arms dropped and wrapped around me securely.
"We should go make coffee," I murmured.
"We should." He kissed my hair. "Do you have a caffeine headache yet?"
I nodded and smiled into his skin.
"It's not too bad," I amended, leaning back and looking up into his pretty face as he reached over me to turn the water off.
A soft laugh escaped his lips, and he led me carefully out of the shower. Despite the best efforts of the fan, the mirror was still entirely fogged up—my skin felt mildly itchy from the hot water.
I noticed how Chrollo had only picked out a pair of boxers and very loose black joggers. Inwardly, I rolled my eyes playfully, but I still stole a few glances at his hips and the spider tattoo when his back was turned to me.
I really, really like that tattoo, I mused to myself.
Once I'd slipped one of his sweatshirts over my head and put on a pair of shorts, I followed him downstairs to the kitchen. The tiredness in my bones felt even more pronounced now, though, because of the warm shower, and I desperately needed to take a nap soon. I was sure my eyes carried deep shadows beneath them.
Chrollo and I sat in the living room, curled up together on the couch after the coffee had finished brewing and we'd each poured ourselves a cup. Well, actually, he made me one—he knew I didn't like it plain. I teased him about it jokingly, leading our conversation into light topics like favorite colors and favorite seasons.
Apparently, his favorite color was gray. At first, I couldn't understand, although I knew in my mind that it made sense for him. He explained it as being a philosophical reason, as well as just being an appealing, soothing color, in all shades. Gray was the mixture of black and white, the point in the line of sand where the grains blur and borders aren't clear—he saw himself as gray, as the personification of it, which I could easily comprehend. I've always known he was morally gray.
His favorite season was winter, because it was barren and bleak to the rest of the world, but it was peaceful and quiet to him. However, he'd explained that sometimes, only sometimes, it could be turbulent. Blizzards would form and his thoughts would scream in the silence—I understood that, as well.
"I guess I don't have a favorite color, or a favorite season," I murmured into my mug after he'd asked me. "I like them all. I like the blue in a summer sky and the pink in a spring sunrise; I like the oranges and yellows and browns of autumn leaves and the misty winter snow. I like when your nose turns red after you've been outside in the cold, and the purple under your eyes when you haven't slept for awhile; I like our black bed sheets and the way the evergreens stay bloomed all year—It's all pretty."
His gaze twinkled curiously as he sipped from his coffee, a smile twitching up the edges of his lips.
"You're very open-minded," he pointed out softly. "I love that about you."
With a wide grin, I shrugged.
"I suppose if I had to choose, it would be the color of your eyes," I admitted, finishing off the last of my drink and setting the cup down. "They aren't hazel, and they aren't gray. They're in between."
Chrollo blinked and chuckled.
"(Y/n), my love, you are so fascinating." He finished his coffee, too, and set his cup down beside mine. "Do you still wish to sleep? I can stay with you, if you like."
My eyes drooped a bit as I nodded, standing shakily up from where I'd been sitting with my legs over his lap, my back against the arm of the sofa. Closing my tired eyelids sounded like bliss.
As he stood, I heard his phone begin to buzz rhythmically in his pocket. He paused, pulling it out to answer a call, and for a millisecond so short I could barely be sure it had actually happened, something like annoyance and mild rage flickered over his features.
Who is that...?
"I'll be upstairs in a moment," he murmured, leaning forward to kiss me once. "I need to answer this."
"Okay," I sighed, reluctantly skipping to the kitchen to place our used mugs in the sink.
All the way up to his room, my head felt light and weak with sleep, and by the time I'd crawled into the warm, silky blankets, piling both of them overtop and snuggling deeply inside, I could barely keep my eyes open long enough to wait for him. I wondered who'd called him—I didn't have long to catch a glance, but it just looked like a random number.
Doesn't that mean whoever it was isn't in his contact list? I thought groggily. And what time is it?
I grasped with weighted hands around the pillows—before our shower, I thought I'd tossed my phone on the bed somewhere. Finally, I recognized the smooth exterior and rectangular shape of the device, blinking away the brightness as I flipped it on.
1:51 p.m. I'll probably sleep for a few hours, I guess.
With a large, stretching yawn, my mind traveled loosely to when I would make plans with Machi or Kassidy. I didn't want to hang out with anyone too soon, but I also didn't want to neglect them. I appreciated Machi for her solid logic, her dry humor, her easy-going personality; I appreciated Kassidy endlessly for his light, his morality—I respected him for his morality, really. It was something I knew I could never have, something I could never truly teach myself after having been exposed to horrors my entire life. For that, alone, I enjoyed being around him. It was like a small break from who I was, like being around him could somehow allow me to see into the life of one driven by pure passions.
I barely heard the almost inaudible sound of the door closing, and I felt Chrollo's peaceful presence. Without even looking up, though, I could tell that there was some anxiety, some frustration burning beneath his cool exterior. The bed dipped as he sat beside me, and I shifted my drowsy gaze to his wide, worried eyes. They were melancholy again, a mixture of emotions flitting confusedly around in his amber-gray irises, as his fingers carefully ran through my still-damp hair.
"Is something wrong?" I asked, my voice a bit faint with exhaustion.
He was quiet for a moment, a desperate plea in his dark gaze. I waited, feeling my eyes drift closed, my limbs relaxing heavily into the bed. It felt like a few minutes passed before he finally spoke, his velvety voice strained and low, and the stress in his aura would have raised tingles along my spine immediately had it not been for how tired I was.
"I have to leave in a month to the Republic of Padokea for Heaven's Arena."