Luck in a Sense (Illumi x Reader)

Music

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Through the night... or whatever time it was I squeezed my eyes shut and focused on remembering his face.

I was always afraid of the things that he represents... and I don't mean death or God. I mean emptiness.

Emptiness... and that... that wretched thing that creeps up on me when I've time alone...

When silence allows my true worries to surface...

They will take me over completely if I let them... I-I just know it.

I start to panic. For the first time in two days now I feel warmth in my body.

Fear.

"STOP!" I huffed.

It was the first sound I'd heard in two days now, and it rattled everything, bouncing infinitely off of the black volcanic glass walls around me.

The ringing was safe. I rustled in my chains a bit to add to the tune. I cannot allow myself to think for too long.

Three more days pass.

I began to hum as well.

Music.

He's never coming back...

"Amazing grace," I coughed roughly, my cold only getting worse.

I imagined his voice instead.

"How sweet the sound,"

"That saved a wretch like me,"

I've never been very religious...

"I once was lost, but now I'm found,"

"Was blind, but now... I-"

The door creaked open as it did when he first walked in three days ago.

I didn't say anything. I couldn't. We know what he does to me by now.

He flipped the switch and I didn't dare flinch at the sudden light and miss a second of him.

He had more food. I wasn't just looking at his face this time. I was looking at everything. I wanted to be able to fantasize at least if he is going to leave again.

"Good morning," I guessed.

"The A.A.A. location," he began.

"You won't feed me first?" I tried to prolong.

He stepped closer and I felt it. I pushed my aura at him.

"Don't try to break loose. You will die." He warned. Of course, it didn't sound like a warning. Just a statement of fact.

But that was not my intent at all. I just want to feel him... but I can't, so knowing that he feels me is second best.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

Time to eat.

I swallowed the content without chewing and sucked his finger as deep as I could.

My chains screeched as I followed his finger as far as possible before I lost contact.

"Thank you,"

"The A.A.A. location,"

"There's more than one," I began.

Looking on at his long legs and stamping each detail into my memory. Reciting phrases in my head that would help me remember his structure. Like cramming for a test.

"How many?" He asked.

"27 that I know of. And of those will give us many more links to other smaller operations."

"How do you know this?"

"They killed my parents," I replied rather quickly through this one, I don't want to... think about this.

About my history. How happy I was. How it was stripped from me. How I was taken away and abused. And all the... the...

stop. answer the question.

"I worked for them once. Blindly." I finished.

"How much do you know?"

"Everything," I said again.

For a long while he had many questions about what I know and how I know it.

My answers were short and direct. Leaving him room for as many questions as he could think of.

I watched his lips and studied its divots and hills.

For three hours it went on.

I developed a tick in my jaw to count the hours. I never thought I'd have to use the trick but here I am.

The questions were all business.

Then he left with not very much information. The pain I felt from his departure I will not explain again. Instead, I will skip 127 hours ahead... when he returned.

I will not explain the bliss of this moment again. Instead, I will tell you what happened this day.

He continued to question. Duh.

As the days grew shorter he returned every week. Then every five days, then every three, then every two, then everyone.

I saw him every day...

Two and a half months, I think. Maybe longer. But the more he came to visit the less time mattered.

"You look even sexier today My Lord," I winked.

"Does your leg hurt?"

What? "It's nothing I can't handle."

"You're cold. You're sic--"

"What of it?" I wondered.

He pulled two pills from his pocket and dropped them into my water.

"Do not spit them out," he ordered.

"Sleeping pills?"

He said nothing.

I didn't mind.

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