Miss Kimberly Lippington does not allow minors inside of the club for the broken. This establishment is meant solely for adults 18 and over. Trespassers are to be shot on sight by Jinsoul of arc.
Welcome to Club Icarus! A place for the verified beauties, obsessed, and the burned. Miss Haseul takes great pride in our establishment, and ask that those who enter take note of the following information.
☾ Enjoy your stay on the dance floor, the guardian angels watch us all, especially Heejin and Choerry.
☾We offer a variety of music at our establishment catered to our fallen angels by the beloved and darling DJ Venus.
☾Thirsty? Our Bartenders Rafayel and Chrollo will take care of all of your alcoholic needs if they're not taking care of the DJ.
☾The DJ is open to any suggestions for Chrollo. Club Icarus takes pride in its atmosphere, please assure your song request adhere to the DJ's vibe.
Synopsis: kuroro loves to act when he’s drunk, but you detest one of his comfort plays. You should have just said your line, Emily Webb.
Tags: chrollo x reader, mentions of alcohol, chrollo gets moody, mention of kidnapping, arguments, slice of life type shit, Chrollo knows he’s not a good person, possible grammatical errors, mentions of Our Town, you argue but no sad ending, established relationship, chrollo Lucilfer is SILLY and is still passionate about the arts
Word count: 964
“No-no, darling. You’ve got to drop on the floor and feel it! Make me believe that you’re longing for that life once more!” Kuroro critiques, stumbling back as the liquor takes control of his system. You do as he says, your legs collapse onto the ground and you look up at him, kneeling before the drunken crime lord.
You burst out in a fit of giggles instead, gods, you hated this play.
“Well that’s not quite right…” he sighs, sitting down next to you. “You wouldn’t laugh as you watch your family mourn your grave, but by all means do tell me how you’d feel in Emily’s shoes.” Chrollo indulges, pushing back a few strands of your hair behind your ear.
“Why am I dead again?”
“Childbirth.”
“Oh! Well- that’s just…”. You look away, overstimulated by his intense gaze. “So … sad.” You laugh again. “Sorry!” You snort, “it’s hard to care for Emily in this moment- this is a stupid play!” You admit, dramatically throwing your hands in the air as your body throws itself back onto the ground.
The ceiling has more personality than Emily Webb does!
“I’ve read it sober, I’ve read it high, I’ve read it drunk; and I still can’t find a way to care for any of these damn characters- a classic Sahartan play my ass…” you roll your eyes. “What, you meet the denizens of the town in the first act, then we have a random wedding for the second, and now I’m dead? You can’t even grow attached to Emily or anyone else-“
“You’re not supposed to be attached to the characters, it’s about the message that ordinary life is precious-“
“Oh shut up! Don’t you have a massacre to orchestrate in the morning?!” You stick your tongue out at him. He scoffs, but entertains you nonetheless.
“It’s a heist and that has nothing to do with Our Town.”
“You’re such a hypocrite!”
“I never claimed to be a virtuous man! Dammit- let’s switch plays.” He groans, lying next to your limp body on the cold floor. You feel his hand slip into yours, giving it a subtle squeeze. “Is it that difficult to find a message in something so simple…” kuroro grumbles. You both stare at the ceiling still, you a tad too dizzy and him a tad too frustrated.
“It’s a play about Sahertans from the 1950s doing a bunch of nothing until they die, so what? Ordinary life is taken for granted by the living- how… tragic!” Sarcasm laces itself within your words. “It’s not saying anything profound and I hate the nothing characters and their nothing town.”
You lay in silence for a few moments before he speaks again.
“Is that how you felt growing up?”
.
.
.
“I’m too drunk to have this conversation.” You whine, turning over on your left side to look at him. Chrollo closes his eyes and let out a deep breath, but he didn’t turn to face you.
He’s upset, clearly.
“My childhood was different from yours.”
“Obviously.”
“Roro, it was boring!”
“I sometimes wish I had boring.” He admits, finally turning to face you. He avoids eye contact, opting to look at the floor instead. “To have both parents around, maybe a sister to argue with on our walks to school in the morning. There’s food on the table once my father picks me up from baseball practice too. And my mother would scold me for stealing a sweet from the fridge at night.”
Silence follows, until it doesn’t.
“That wasn’t the case at all, and we can’t fix that.” You sigh, extending your right hand to his face. His eyes close once more. You open your mouth to speak but he cuts you off before you have the chance.
“Would I understand myself then? Would I be more virtuous? Happy? What could I have achieved then? I was a bright child, you know. I didn’t have the right resources, I wasn’t born into that.”
“No, you weren’t.”
Silence ensues once more, but only for a moment.
“I didn’t have any grandparents around, or a sister. And my mom wouldn’t let me go outside or out with friends at all. You know, other people… um-“ for fucks sake! You didn’t mean to make him upset. “Outside of Meteor City suffer too. My parents experienced that too. Mother was almost kidnapped, and that uh- trauma stuck with her. A lot of stuff like that happened where they were from. I couldn’t do shit most of the time, and both of my parents were too tired to do anything by the time I got home.” You internally cringe, there’s a reason why you never spoke of your childhood. “I was lonely! I sat in my room and used my imagination to entertain myself everyday. I didn’t even make anything of myself! I dropped out of college before I could get my degree. Boring and safe doesn’t always lead to better outcomes.”
.
..
…
“Do you love me because I give you a sense of excitement you’ve never had?”
“Do you love me because I give you a sense of boringness you’ve never had?”
…”touché.”
You feel his muscles rise under your hand, he’s smiling now. All of this because of Our Town, god dammit, you hate this play. Unfortunately, he doesn’t.
You let go of his face and sit up.
“What was my line again?” You grumble, looking around Kuroro’s living room for the script he made (and highlighted) for you. Chrollo beams, and stands up with a few fumbles. He walks towards the black couch and grabs your papers, reading over them.
“But mother Gibbs, how can I ever forget that life? It’s all I know, it’s all I had.” He quotes, the melancholy dripping from his voice with ease.
If it makes Kuroro happy, so be it. You’ll throw a dog a bone. Sometimes you do boring things for the man you love.