❛ Look After You. Chrollo Lucilfer

xvi. Nutella milkshake

Keiko woke the next morning to a dull, pounding ache in her head that felt like a thousand tiny hammers tapping against her skull. The sunlight filtering through the curtains was too bright, stabbing at her eyes, and she groaned as she pulled the duvet over her face, trying to block out the world.

Her mouth was dry, her throat parched, and every little sound— birds chirping outside, the distant hum of traffic— seemed amplified, reverberating in her aching head. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the pain to subside, but it stubbornly lingered, a constant reminder of the excesses of the night before.

As she lay there, bits and pieces of the previous evening began to swim into focus, though they were hazy, like fragments of a dream slipping through her fingers. She remembered drinking, far more than she should have. She remembered Gerard and Mei, their sly and stern faces, she remembered encountering Bianca, and she remembered Chrollo— always Chrollo— steadying her when she stumbled, his voice soft in her ear.

But the details were a blur, as if someone had smudged the edges of her memories. She vaguely recalled saying something to Chrollo, something important, but the exact words escaped her. There was a sense of unease, a nagging feeling that she had let her guard down more than she should have, that she had revealed something she wasn't ready to confront.

Keiko groaned again, burying her face deeper into the pillow. "What did drunk me say now?" she muttered to herself, the question echoing in her mind. She could almost hear her own voice, slurred and tipsy, but the memory was elusive, just out of reach.

She forced herself to sit up, though the movement made her head throb even more. The room spun for a moment before settling, and she blinked, trying to clear the fog from her mind. She was in her bed, the familiar surroundings of her room offering some comfort, but it didn't ease the anxiety gnawing at her.

"Okay, think," she whispered, pressing her fingers to her temples. "What happened?"

But no matter how hard she tried, the night remained stubbornly shrouded in mist, leaving her with only vague impressions and a lingering sense of regret. She glanced around, half-expecting to see Chrollo sitting by after seeing he wasn't in bed with her, watching over her like he had before, but the room was empty. A part of her felt relieved— she wasn't sure she could face him yet— but another part of her felt strangely disappointed.

She sighed and leaned back against the headboard, her headache throbbing in time with her heartbeat. "I need water," she muttered, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and forcing herself to stand, though every step sent a fresh wave of pain through her skull.

As she stumbled toward the bathroom, Keiko couldn't shake the feeling that she had crossed a line last night, one that she couldn't remember but somehow knew was important. And as she splashed cold water on her face, trying to wash away the remnants of her hangover, she couldn't help but wonder what Chrollo had thought of her in those moments she couldn't recall.

Keiko stepped out of her room, each step down the long hallway echoing in her aching head. The quiet of the morning was almost too much to bear, the silence amplifying the steady throb at her temples. She kept one hand pressed against her forehead, trying to massage away the pain as she made her way toward the front foyer. The cool tiles under her feet were a small comfort, guiding her toward the kitchen where the promise of water awaited.

The moment she spotted the cabinet containing the glass cups, Keiko wasted no time. She grabbed one with a slightly shaky hand, filled it to the brim with cold water, and brought it to her lips. The first sip was heaven— cool, refreshing, exactly what she needed to soothe the dryness in her throat. She drank deeply, sighing in relief as the liquid seemed to chase away some of the fog lingering in her mind.