DISCOVERY ➴ Chrollo x Reader

XXXIV. Numb

Birds chirped, leaves wooshed with the wind and small twigs cracked in the distance. My face felt warm, probably from the sun strewn over my face as it crossed the tall trees over me. I shuffled awake, blinking heavily and then squinting to gaze around the camp. The fire was out, a dozen of small stones taking its place, Chrollo was nowhere to be seen.

I blinked, my eyes still dry, eyelids heavy with sleep. How could I be more tired than before I managed to get some sleep? My body was heavy, and I had no will to leave my little cocoon of comfort. Chrollo wasn't here. I should be panicking, I should be squinting harder to see if his bags and sleeping bag were around, but I couldn't get myself to care. I laid back, snuggling into the soft sleeping bag, and closed my eyes. 

A stick cracked nearby, and it felt like it hadn't passed enough time. Not when I was this tired, this unwilling to leave bed. I kept my eyes closed, as soft steps approached me, it was probably Chrollo. It had to be. Who else?

Fabric shuffled, and then only the sounds of nature continued. Some flies were bugging me now, flying about, near my head, I could hear their incessant buzz. When one landed over my shoulder, uncovered once I pushed the top of the sleeping bag away for the freshness of the breeze, I pursed my lips, I wanted to swat it away. I did. But then Chrollo would know I was awake, and take me from my happy place, a place where I could be unconscious and comfortable. No. I forced my eyes closed and my arm immobile. I took a deeper breath and listened to the soft sounds of the birds. 

"I know you're awake." 

So it was Chrollo. I kept my eyes closed, and my body still. Who was he to push me away from the only thing that didn't make me feel. Why did I have to face the horrible reality? The reality in which my friend was dead, my captor was most likely responsible for it. The reality in which I had left my house and my job, and was waiting for death at the hands of a man I found attractive. Why would I want to return to the guilt? The envy? The tiredness?

My body felt like a dozen taxis had driven over them. I wanted to continue this break from living. I wanted to have it forever... rather than returning to my shitty life. 

I heard a soft sigh, "What is it, Y/N?"

I rolled to face him, I squinted to find him seating across from me. "I'm tired." I croaked, and then cleared my throat.

"You've just slept." There was no edge or aggression to his voice, he was merely stating a fact. And for some reason that ticked me off more, I wanted him to be awful, to be the monster that killed Reah, I wanted him to be dislikeable. How could I... How could I hate him after seeing flickers of humanity, after envying his confidence and ease, after ogling his body? Why must human existence be deliciously cursed with irony?

A sigh left my lips, "I'm more tired now that I did so." 

"Fair. But that's not just it... You're-" I rolled my eyes, and covered them with my arm, to block out the sun and the sight of a criminal that should be just that, a criminal. Where was my fear? Where was my madness? Where was my hatred and my guilt? Sleep was blissful apathy, one that those unhappy with their life longed for eternally. 

I woke up again by nightfall, still tired. No will was left. I chuckled to myself, and Chrollo, who was still seated across from me—I wondered if he had even moved, he probably had, he looked fresher—rose a single eyebrow in question. 

"The only thing that has kept me going these last few days was the mix of adrenaline and fear of death." I tossed the top flap of my sleeping bag away from me and sat up, groaning. Half of me wanted to lay back and sleep myself to death... The other half was feeling horrible. I had no energy left, my body hurt in the oddest of places, and I swore I heard my elbow snap as I pushed myself to stand on my feet. It sounded much like one of those tiny twigs... snapping under my weight. Chrollo didn't comment on that, and I wanted to hate him for that... But all I could muster was a soft dislike, and a growing annoyance at life, since hate was far too tiring to achieve at the moment. "We could be made of sticks, Chrollo, we snap as beautifully as them."

His lips stretched into a crazed smile, not beautiful, not for looks, an honest to god smile, imperfect, unpolished, raw. "You become much like a philosopher when you manage to sleep, Y/N."

The answer to his quip was at the tip of my tongue, and I even opened my mouth to spout it, but I ended up swallowing it. What was I doing? Banter with a criminal? Was that what I wanted? Why was guilt much easier to relapse into than comfort? His head tilted, and his dark bangs covered his greyish eyes, he didn't seem annoyed or hurt that I didn't want to banter.  His smile faltered as he pressed his lips together... Why did he want to figure me out?

"I agree though, different kind of wood breaks differently, different pressure makes it more or less splintery... humans are like sticks... ready to be broken."

I looked away, why was he looking like a predator, like he wanted to devour me... Like he couldn't wait to lay his hands on me and break me? My heart started rushing, and suddenly I felt my hunger, my tiredness, and my shame slide back into place. 

Leave it to Chrollo to lace a threat into his beautiful woven speech just to make me feel alive. I walked out of the clearing and he didn't follow me. He didn't have to. I felt his gaze even after the trees hid my body away from his eyes...

He hadn't even meant it. I knew it. It was a mask. I knew it. 

But my heart kept beating out of pace and my legs trembling like they were made of jelly. 

Author's Note: I can never plan for this damned fic. I plan the chapters and then the characters run out of script. They always find a way to toss my ideas out... What a struggle this is... T-T I can't even give you an idea on how long we have until the ending.