𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑱𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒓 & 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑨𝒄𝒆 (hisoka x reader x chrollo)

Stage 1 & 2

Can the 5 infamous stages of grief pertain to the loss of a lover? A loss that was chosen? Or is it mere heartbreak?

First comes denial.

Splintering tears fell down your cheekbones as you read the forsaken words. By the end of the letter, your air supply was cut off. Your lungs latched closed like steel doors, caging your perilous attempts to breathe. Agony and disbelief blinded your mind as water blinded your eyes. The cold and candid letter fell flimsy in your shaking hands. An urge to scream wouldn't release itself from your inflicted throat. The tension of your joints grew with the sudden tight grip between your curling fists.

What did these words mean? If only he could've look you in the eyes and said these cynical words. Was everything a lie? A mere distraction like he'd said? Was his disgusting earnest all true? Were these feelings you'd felt for him these past months nothing but an illusion? Were you so blindly looking for new attachment after Hisoka, that you devolved this deepening, dramatic, idealistic love? Or were you right? Were your feelings valid, real, and most importantly, shared? Was this letter a ruse, perhaps one from Hisoka to stray you away from Chrollo? Maybe if you could talk to him he'd tell you it's all fake, all some dirty plot. Or you could be wrong. You could confront him, and maybe it will be fake, or maybe he'll send you off, telling you the frank truth you'd desperately never want to hear, or maybe he'd just kill you.

Everything felt dizzy, and it spun, not spun, fell. Everything seemed to fall. Falling, like the feeling that jumps you awake again. Falling, like the mystifying, tragic climax of ivory piano keys, progressively playing that outburst of dramatic energy. The chills come from that sudden crescendo, the same chills you'd felt when he first touched you, the same chills you'd felt ever since. But if chills could wither, and bring about a different sense of duplicitous lifting emotions, then that's what you'd feel. The seconds that past, when that thrilling, devastating feeling went away, like the silence following a raspy gasp. The silence, but falling, was the only way to explain it.

Denial. What did it really mean, as you sat there, leaning back and fourth, fighting the urge to scream? The disbelief was hurtful but not the most damaging, the unknowing-ness of it all pained you the most. Denial. Not knowing wether to hope, if there was hope, or feel ignorant for still having hope. Was it that slight sliver of hope that kept you from dreadfully giving up? Was it not that longing to know the truth, hoping for uncovered evidence, that saved your life? Was it hope that kept us all going? Hope for the unknown, hope for change? Change is unknown isn't it? For your sake you'd hold on like it was a ripping rope keeping you from tumbling down a cliff into Tartarus. You'd hang on denial and all. You'd find out that unknown, wouldn't you? You had too. Because the mean thing about those infamous stages of grief, was that they would always stay with you, the word "stages" is just cruel irony. It would never pass, it may decrease, but it'll never die.

Your acceptance wasn't near, but that fire burning inside you grew. Those devouring embers grew with the unknown, with the hope. But fire brings destruction. Fire brings hurt. Fire brings anger.

Your mind was set. The mysterious ways of the brain had already set your feet walking. The pinpricks of the red aura created a savagely fierce blast of Nen raging around your fist. That scream finally came out. But the sound wasn't shrieking, of course any scream would sound quiet with the obliteration of the compacted bathroom door. You hear the lock clink as the handle fell onto the ground with the other shattered pieces of wood as your heavy steps broke them even more.

The most misunderstood emotion was anger. This 'stage' was inadvertently mistaken by fearful rage. But anger is sad. Anger is built up emotions that burst into fireworks of tears and flames. Explosions of hurt that sever limbs. Anger had the surprise advantage, and you hated surprises.

Your body felt fragile but with adrenaline. Because your body was quite literally broken, but was exploding with an uncomfortable amount of emotions. The further you walked down that hall, the more strange feelings began clawing at your legs, like the ground was sprouting demons of darkness. The growing sensation of what you'd do if someone out there tried to stop you almost feared you. You couldn't take any provocation. You'd felt uncontrollable, but it wasn't freeing, it felt like a heavy chain, being pulled by a barges anchor lying deep in the sand.

The hallway began to end. The sight of the opening slowly began showing more and more of the main room. There was no one in sight. Everyone was gone. It was silent. The moon was full. It's white glow casted upon the dark greens, blues, and reds of the stained glass, creating the shining light of colors to be brighter than the sun had ever made them.

It was a sight he would've liked.

The bitterness couldn't help but creep in after the moments thought of Chrollo. Your inner wounds now seemed covered, no, infected by some darkness. It spread, covering your cold aching bones like a forbidden blossom. Your steps grew closer to the colorful rays. The silence gathered again like you'd always had on your darkest days. Your feet kept carrying you, to glimpse at that sly moon, at full power, watching your unraveling. You stood still. Your eyes widened, the reflection of the full moon covered your irises on the glossy slate of tears. Your skin had been painted by only the crimson red glass, with the moon shining it's color of destruction upon you.

Authors note: Hey! i'm super sorry for the slow updates. I'm on vacation right now and everything in general has been super tiring. My motivation is slowly coming back, and I promise our long awaited climax is coming soon. Next chapter, if you know your third stage;) Thank you for continuous support. Love u all