coming home from the flea market, you can’t help but ask your doting boyfriend to pick up food on the way home. [roadhead fic] minors dni
With the sun having set, the landscape passes in a dark blur. Superstitious, you don’t dare look out the window, instead captivated by Chrollo.
“You know, I really like this color on you,” You can’t help but comment, reaching over to smooth out the collar of his shirt. Chrollo in purple was always a treat, dark or the light lilac he wears now.
It was obvious he could feel your gaze on him, but given that his hand hasn’t left your thigh, you don’t think he minds.
A pleased smile makes its way to Chrollo’s face. “I do know. You tell me everytime I wear this shirt.”
You can’t contain the smile that breaks across your face. Chrollo breaks his concentration on the road to make brief eye contact with you, squeezing your thigh. With his gaze back on the road, you place your hand at the back of his neck, thumb sliding over the knob of his jaw.
“How much longer until we get home, angel?” You ask.
Chrollo glances at the time on the dashboard, then out to the road, looking at the approaching skyline. “Probably about twenty minutes. Do you want to get food?”
You hum, shaking your head. “No, I’ll be alright.”
You slide your other hand over Chrollo’s thigh, intently watching his face as you graze your nails over the inside of his thigh. The light brush is all it takes to make his pants tighten, and you give your boyfriend a smile, filled with pride.
Interest piqued, Chrollo glances over at you once more. Amusement tinges his voice. “Will you?”
Nodding, you give him a small smile, dragging the long nail of your thumb over the ridges of his zipper.
“You’re going to make a mess,” Chrollo notes, voice casual.
“No I won’t,” You say, unbuckling your seatbelt and facing your body towards Chrollo. You bite your lip for a moment, eyes lit up in the dark with a gleam. “But even if I did, you wouldn’t be that angry, would you, baby?”
“You’re more than welcome to find out, princess.”
And who are you to deny a sexual bet with Chrollo that you will, inevitably, end up losing?
Your fingers make work of Chrollo’s belt, sliding the brown leather out. You palm him through his thin slacks, placing a kiss to his jaw, down his neck.
Chrollo tightens his grip on the steering wheel. You smile against his smooth skin. His cologne lingers, filling up your senses as you lick a stripe up his neck, slowly sucking on his pulse point, pulling away before you could leave a hickey.
With careful fingers you pull Chrollo’s thick member out, settling onto your knees. While Chrollo’s demeanor appears calm, his cock is quickly betraying him. You swirl your tongue around the head, before wrapping your lips around it. Sliding your tongue under his foreskin rewards you with a sharp spank to the side of your ass.
You groan around his cock, slowly bobbing your head up and down, hand following your mouth. When your hair falls over your face, you go to pull it back, but Chrollo beats you to it. His fingers slide through your hair, then twirls it around his finger a few times, holding it tightly out of your face.
The hold makes you ache in the most delightful way, subconsciously rubbing your thighs together. Flattening your tongue, you drag it alongside one of the thick veins in his cock.
He’s fully erect by this point, thick in your mouth, heavy in your hand. The rhythm you start has him chasing it, hips inching upwards just slightly, as his thighs tense in pleasure.
Despite Chrollo’s boasted patience, his cock is twitching and his grip on your hair is tightening, all clear signs he was close. You hum around his cock, taking a deep breath through your nose and taking as much of him into your mouth.
Chrollo was right, of course. You do make a mess, spit mixing with precum leaking down his shaft, stopped only by your hand. With the leverage on your hair, he pulls you up slightly, just so the head is in his mouth as the car serves slightly, then your bobbing resumes.
“You’re such a good girl for me,” Chrollo groans out, “Fuck, baby, princess, angel, I’m—”
You pull your head back, taking the stumbling words for a warning, sucking on the head of his cock, back down, back up, back down, back up. Chrollo’s hand is a vice on your hair, thigh tightening as salty warmth fills your mouth.
Some of his cum slides out from your mouth, down his shaft as you struggle to swallow what was in your mouth. You side your tongue to lick up the rest of the mess, then sit back, making a little bit of a show as you lick up the cum on your hand.
Chrollo’s head is tilted back, eyes lidded and chest heaving as he tries to keep his eyes on a road. A pleased smile comes across his face, as he reaches over to put a hand on your thigh.
“Don’t go far, princess,” He says, trying to pull you closer by the leg.
Giggling, you reach over and gently tuck Chrollo’s length back away in his pants, reveling in the way he sighs, the way his cock tries to stir back to life under your gentle touch.
And you don’t go far, of course. You lay your head on his shoulder, taking deep breaths. Chrollo’s hand creeps up your thigh, under your dress, pinky grazing the wet spot forming on your panties. He only withdraws his hand to your thigh when he pulls up to the drive thru and orders the usual— fries and chicken sandwiches and one sweet tea, one coke.
he has no ulterior motives i promise! he's literally so innocent how dare you accuse him of trying to get anything out of this relationship! stream anna karenina by leo tolstoy!
“I thought I might find you here.”
The voice from behind startles you. You jump slightly in your chair, holding the book you had been reading against your chest. Turning, you relax slightly upon seeing where the voice was coming from. “Lord Lucifuru, you startled me.”
The black haired man tilts his head to the side as he approaches, hand resting on the back of your armchair. “Are we not on a first name basis anymore, Princesse?” He lilts the title in the accent he’s picked up from his years of council.
You avoid his gaze, cheeks heating up. The room warms with the memories of the other night. Squirreled away behind a statue, whispered confessions, his lips everywhere they shouldn’t have been— Your lips, your neck, your chest.
“What if we aren’t alone?” You whisper. If you lose yourself to the daydream enough, you can feel his hands on your hips.
“I checked,” Kuroro says, voice soft and reassuring. “We are most certainly alone.”
You straighten up and crane your head around, as if to double check his words. He tilts your head back towards him with a finger under your chin.
“I’d never steer you wrong,” Kuroro promises, then tacks on, “[First.]”
It fills you with such warmth to hear your name from his lips, and you have to avert your gaze to keep yourself from melting into a puddle.
“Are you sure there’s no one else here?” You ask again.
“And risk my own head?” Kuroro asks, a smile pulling at the left of his lips.
You suppose he has a point. You relax back into the chair, resting your book on your chest to hold its place. “Have you been searching for me, then, Kuroro?”
His half smile reaches his eyes. That’s more like it. “I have, actually. All over. I should have started here, it seems. Would of had more time with you.”
“You should have known I’d be here,” You hum. “After all, I was told this morning over breakfast that my crate of books finally got deemed… What’s the word you use?”
“They were found to be without ill intent,” Kuroro restates. “We just wanted to be sure that no harm would come to you.”
“Father coddles me,” You remark, “As do you.”
“Well, I’d be out of a job if I didn’t do as he told. And you’d be out of a job if you didn’t get coddled. That is under the description of princess.”
“I do other things,” You protest.
“I know you do,” Kuroro says, his eyes glancing down at the book splayed across your chest before back to your eyes.
“What have you come found me for?” You press.
“Do I always have an ulterior motive with you?” Kuroro returns your question with one of his own. At the raise of your eyebrow, he concedes. “There is a dinner tonight that you are expected to attend. A prince is here to make your acquaintance, in the most casual manner possible.”
Disgust fills your face. “This is what you come to tell me of?”
“Would you have preferred someone else?” Kuroro asks.
No, you’d rather have not. “I simply thought… I thought you had come to see me. For no other reason than to see me.”
Kuroro hums. He cups your cheek in his hand, thumb smoothing over its softness. You can’t help but lean into his touch, bring your hand to cover his. To keep him close.
“I offered to come tell you,” Kuroro promises, crouching down by your chair. “I wanted to break the news to you, not someone else.”
“Will you be at dinner?” You inquire.
“I’ll be there. I must advise your father that the visiting suitor is not up to your family’s standards. That is my job, after all. As an adivisor and as a lover.”
Kuroro’s tongue was always so smooth, and if you had more control over your life you’d be wary of it. But, with your sole outlet being the man before you, you ease yourself against his silver words.
“Lover?” You repeat, eyelashes fluttering at such a title.
“Should I take it back?” He asks with bated breath.
You shake your head. “You should tell Father to marry us instead.”
Kuroro’s chuckle is self deprecating. “I am no king.”
“You could be,” You whisper, getting your hopes up against your best judgement.
“My best work is done from the shadows, my darling. I crumple under the public eye. And you were made for it. The people adore you.”
You pout. “You’re going to break my heart.”
Kuroro smiles gently at you. “You’ve known that, [First.]”
“I wish I didn’t,” You sigh. “I wish I wasn’t so aware.”
Kuroro shifts his hand to take yours in his own, bringing your knuckles to his lips. The gesture is familiar, impersonal now. He rolls your hand over, slides his fingers down your wrist, the underside of your forearm, and presses a kiss into the palm of your hand.
“It’s for the best you are,” Kuroro says. “Tomorrow I will find time in our schedules for us to take a walk, how does that sound?”
“A long walk?”
“A long walk.”
Your fingers trace Kuroro’s jaw. “Why not tonight? Why not now?”
“You are not dressed for a walk,” Kuroro says softly. “And you need to get ready for dinner. We do not have time for a walk right now, sweet [First.]”
“Oh.” Your fingers stop their movements, and you withdraw your hand.
“Would you like me to walk you to your room?” Kuroro asks.
“Will you stay while I get ready?” You hope.
Kuroro sadly shakes his head. “I can go get you something from the kitchen and come back while delivering it.”
“So yes?” You conclude.
“In a way,” Kuroro says, standing. He holds his hand out for you to take, which you gladly do.
You look around you, double checking for your solitude. The door would have been audible had it opened.
“Do you think I could have a kiss?” You whisper.
“A kiss?” Kuroro hums. Slowly, he lowers his head until his breath mingles with yours.
“Please?”
“You should never have to ask for anything,” Kuroro responds, sealing his statement with a solid yet brief press of his lips against yours. “It is cruel that you want what you can’t have.”
There is no second kiss, just a hand on your cheek and Kuroro’s steady breath. A whine leaves your lips.
Slowly, you open your eyes to look at him. “One more?”
He obliges, slotting your lips together. The kiss lasts for a breath longer, his tongue gently swiping against your bottom lip before pulling away.
“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to kiss anyone else,” You murmur.
Kuroro chuckles at that. “I’m sure you’ll kiss many more.”
You shake your head. “I don’t wish to.”
“You flatter me,” Kuroro murmurs, “When it should be the other way around.”
This turn, you hum, a little smile flickering across your lips. You pull away, out of the fear that built inside you from the amount of private time you’d had. Someone was bound to come for you any moment.
Greedily, Kuroro steals another kiss before leading you out of the room. It’s a cold walk down the halls, shoes echoing on the stone, a distinct space left between both of you. The wind from your walk whips through it. The more distance put between yourself and the library, the larger the space becomes. And, as you round the corner of the hall, you can no longer feel the lingering warmth against your lips.
im in cleaning tonight but im enjoying some 19 crimes cab sauv so. im releasing this from my gdocs
The liquor store’s electricity hums through the lighting. Kuroro stands in the wine aisle, frowning at the options before him. He couldn’t help but feel like he’d tried all of them, and none of them were truly memorable. Plucking up one with the image of Michael Harrington on it, Kuroro can’t help but be amused by it. Perhaps in a few centuries someone would be selling cabernet sauvignon with his own face on it.
Kuroro gently places it back on the shelf.
“I didn’t see you come in, otherwise I would have said hi,” Comes the shopkeep, an older woman with mascara slipping down her lower lashline.
“You were with another customer,” Kuroro says. He gives her a gentle smile. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“Well, it’s good to see you. Lookin’ for anything in particular? Another red?”
“Perhaps,” Kuroro sighs. “I think I’ve tried just about everything.”
“Eventually you’ll settle down with something. Cooking tonight?”
What an odd choice of words, Kuroro thinks to himself. “No. I’m... Entertaining tonight.”
“Oh?” She checks her watch. “Late night.”
Kuroro shrugs. “I don’t mind.” His phone begins buzzing in his pocket, and he extracts it, glancing at the caller ID. Feitan. What could he possibly be calling me about? Kuroro looks at the shopkeeper, “I’m sorry, I have to take this. I’ll be up shortly.”
The shopkeeper nods, and leaves Kuroro to himself and the call.
He watches her walk away before answering the call on the last ring. He picks up a different bottle to examine the label. “Did you know they sell bottles of wine with criminals on them now?”
“Machi not answering her phone. Walk me through closing artery.”
“I’m in public right now. And I don’t know how to do that. I thought Machi was with you?”
“Went on beer run,” Feitan says.
The bottle in his hands advertises a faint hint of wet leather amongst a muddling of vanilla, blueberries, and clove.
“Who wanted beer?”
“Phinks. Need to close artery.”
Kuroro pauses, his nonchalance slipping. “Is everyone okay?”
“Yes. Phinks wants man to die, but he still has information. Wait.” There’s some shuffling on the other end. With the hand holding the wine bottle, Kuroro presses his thumb between his furrowed brows, up under the bandana around his forehead. “Still alive.”
“Just apply pressure until Machi comes back,” Kuroro whispers. “And have her teach both of you how to do this. I have to go. I’m in the middle of something. Or cauterize it.” He drops his voice even lower. “If you do that it’ll hurt too.”
There’s the sound of gas clicking. “Got it. Talk later.”
The phone clicks off. Kuroro takes a deep breath. He looks back at the bottle of wine in his hands, reading over the label again. His phone begins to ring again. The tension leaves his shoulders upon seeing the contact pop up— Your contact.
One more deep breath to remove the rest of the tension from his shoulders.
“Hello, darling,” He says, voice as smooth as could be.
“Coucou,” Comes your voice through the phone. Kuroro glances back at the bottle of wine. “Are you still coming over? I know it’s late, so if—”
“I’ll be there soon, I’m just picking up some wine,” Kuroro says, cutting you off without hesitation. “There are quite a few options here.”
Your laugh is light and airy through the receiver. Kuroro’s heart skips a beat. “Well, if you take much longer, I’ll have eaten all of the snacks I have out for us.”
On the phone with you and not his murderous counterpart, Kuroro heads towards the counter. “Well, I’ll be there soon. Save something for me?”
“Course I will, see you soon,” You say, before hanging up the phone.
Kuroro places his phone back in his pocket, and the wine bottle on the counter. The shopkeep picks it up and scans it with interest. It’s a nice bottle, a 2019 from a small winery. “You’ll have to let me know how it is.”
“Absolutely,” Kuroro promises, handing over a wad of cash in exchange for the bottle. He prays you’ll like it.
tw: discussion of suicide (brief)
a conversation and a reluctance. (this is pasting in times new roman idk if it'll stay like that?) ao3
calendar | earlier | tomorrow morning
The day comes to a hideous halt outside of a pleasing restaurant. Contra. The stairs that lead up to it are marble, the doors heavy even from your distance. As Kuroro sets his foot on the first step, you stand still, his hand sliding out of yours.
Kuroro turns and takes a step down, relacing his fingers with yours. His head tilts to the side, confused by the sudden stop to the day’s pleasantries. It had been going so well. Day at the beach, a nap on the water, and now, dressed nicely for dinner.
“I don’t want to eat here,” You say, swallowing heavily, answering his question before he could even voice it. You can feel your body going into overdrive, able to feel every little thing. The humidity on your lotion on your skin, the way your shoes lace their way up your shins and calves. The metal of Kuroro’s rings against your hands, which you can already feel become clammy with nervousness. You need to reapply your lipgloss, or at least your chapstick. Did you bring it with you?
“Why not?” Kuroro asks.
Your mouth opens and then shuts. You glance around you, at the various other couples walking around.
“Darling,” Kuroro says, placing a finger under your chin to draw your attention back to him. “We don’t have to eat here, but I do want to know why not.”
“I’ve already eaten here with you,” You whisper. While not here with him, your words connect enough dots for Chrollo. Under his lips, you can see as displeasure clicks his jaw.
You can tell, without much prompting, that the annoyance is not directed towards you.
“I’m actually really tired,” You truthfully tack on. The day in the sun has drained you, and trying to not think about the other night weighs you down. You’d been so excited just the other day to climb these very same steps.
Taking it in stride, Kuroro winds his hand from yours and around your waist, resting on your lower back. In the nighttime lighting, softened by the yellow glow of the pathway lights, your boyfriend looks just as innocent as he had in the springtime breezes.
“Of course,” Kuroro murmurs. “We’ve had a long day, haven’t we?”
You nod, “We have.”
“We can order food,” Kuroro says, leading you back the way you’d just come. As if nothing ever happened. As if you truly were just tired. “However, you do look ethereal tonight. I’ll have to lament not being able to show you off.”
The compliment you’d gotten so used to feels off, in light of your newfound discovery about Kuroro’s true profession. You bite down a quip about how he has much more loss currently regarding your relationship to lament.
—
It’s almost like nothing is wrong. If you don’t think hard, nothing is wrong. Each of you have changed into pyjamas— You in a slip dress and Kuroro shirtless in satin trousers that pool around his ankles. Kuroro sits opposite you on the couch, there’s takeout in your hands, and beers on the coffee table. Only: there’s no hum of music or television in the background. Your legs aren’t spread out to be in Kuroro’s space, they’re tucked up under you. Neither of you say anything to each other.
At least, not until you’re full and you set your half-eaten container on the coffee table and pick up your beer.
“What business did you have to go do the other day?” You ask, tentative. Your heart pounds in your chest at the question, doubt settling in that you won’t enjoy the answer.
But sinking won’t get you anywhere. You might as well swim.
Chrollo sighs and sets his fork down, letting it rest against the flimsy aluminum. “Do you actually want to know?”
“I am asking,” You say, then tack on: “Willingly.”
With a deep breath, Chrollo mulls over his words, picking them carefully. “The son of one of the Dons hides here. I went to go pay him a visit. It took longer than expected to get the information I needed from him out of him. By the time I returned, I knew someone had already beat me back here.” He pauses. “I shouldn’t have left you here by yourself.” Another pause. His hand comes up to push his hair out of his face, followed by a self deprecating laugh. Hollow, short lived, absent of any sort of joy. “I should have noticed that something bad always happens when I leave.”
“Hindsight’s twenty-twenty,” You say, in the same manner. Hollow.
“I’m surprised you haven’t tried to kill yourself,” Chrollo says.
“I’m not thirteen anymore.”
Chrollo raises his eyebrows at that.
“And maybe I’m hoping that I’ll wake up and this will all just be the most vivid nightmare of my life. And anyways... Keeping secrets like yours kills. I don’t know how to describe it, but... You look healthier.”
Chrollo brings a hand to touch his cheek, to feel your compliment against his soft skin.
“You’re glowing in a way I haven’t seen before.” A sorrowed smile pulls at half of your lips. “Unfortunately I have morals.”
“You don’t want to bend them?”
“For you?”
“For me.”
Your faux-pensiveness abruptly turns real, and Chrollo watches as your face turns from joking to serious, as the mischievousness leaves your eyes to seriousness. The hope that bubbles inside of him catches him off guard, enough that he has to suck in a breath to remove it. It doesn’t go down easily.
“I can’t change my morals. But I... Unfortunately, to some degree, I can understand where you’re coming from.”
“We don’t have to agree on everything, do we? That’s what makes relationships interesting.” Chrollo’s words are a parrot of yours, from over a year ago.
You sigh, shaking your head. “Kuroro... When I said that, it was because I don’t like the texture of pudding, not because one of us is a murderer.”
“And I forgave you for not liking pudding.”
“I’m not going to forgive you for being one of the most wanted criminals in the world, Kuroro.” You let out an exhale. A slimy feeling runs up your back, enough for you to sit up straight and set your shoulders down before relaxing again. “It makes a lot of sense, though. If I’m being honest.”
“I love it when you’re honest with me,” Chrollo says, truthfully and wholly.
You bring the bottle back to your lips. “Mhm. Can I ask you another question?”
“Darling, you can ask me any question you want.”
“Why’d the assassin hang around? Why didn’t he just. Kill me and go have a margarita or something? That’s what I would have done.”
“You wear too much perfume to be an assassin,” Chrollo says, eyes trained on the way your lashes flutter away from him as you try to hide the small smile. He goes on to admit: “I’ve been thinking about that as well. I don’t know. Perhaps he was dumb enough that he thought he could kill me as well.”
“Would he have been able to?” You ask.
Chrollo smiles to himself, and picks up his own beer bottle. “Absolutely not.” He shakes his head while he takes a pull, licking the bitter drink away from his lips.
“You seem confident.”
“I am. Can I ask you a question?”
You hesitate. “I— Maybe.”
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” Chrollo says, voice gentle. “How come you didn’t know the man was me?”
“I’m not— I don’t want to talk about that,” You say quickly, looking away.
“We don’t have to, we don’t have to,” Chrollo assures you.
Your bottom lip pushes out, and you take a deep breath to try and control it. “I just— I want to know why I didn’t know too. He was so distant, I thought you had just— I thought work just hadn’t gone well because you’re distant sometimes. He couldn't— It was like I had two heads when I spoke French. I just— I had no reason to not think he was you.”
You place your bottle on the table with more force than you intend, hand shaking slightly. “I didn’t know.”
“I know you didn’t,” Chrollo says. Slowly, his hand reaches over to yours. It draws your gaze up to him. His thumb slides across the soft skin. “I know you didn’t, darling. I’m not mad at you.”
“Are you sure?” You ask, glancing between his eyes.
“Absolutely,” Chrollo says. He raises your hands up to his lips, and gives them a brief peck. A selfish question rests on the tip of his tongue.
“Are we safe here?”
“I won’t let anything else happen to you,” Chrollo promises.
Your brows crease together, rightfully of doubtful of his claim. You answer his selfish question without knowing so. “I can’t help but love you.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“Absolutely.”
“Only if you make it out to be a bad thing,” Chrollo says softly.
You look down at your hands, avoiding Chrollo’s intense gaze you’ve come to swoon for. “Want to go smoke?”
“I’ll come with you,” Chrollo says.
“I’m sure you will,” You huff, taking a deep breath before standing. You run your fingers through your hair, before stretching your arms up. You can feel some of the pressure from your joints release, and with it some of the stress from your day.
“You’re going to want this later?” It’s both a statement and a question that Chrollo poses to you, while he picks up the food you left on the table.
You glance over at it. “Of course. Do you want a shirt?”
“Do you not like seeing me shirtless?”
You close your eyes to avoid looking at his cheeky grin, and turn on your heel to go upstairs. “Don’t think I’m not still irritated with you because I’m being nice.”
“You wound me, darling. I don’t think you realize how much power your words have over me.”
You ignore him, in favor of climbing the stairs and once more entering the bedroom area. It doesn’t take long for you to find your cigarette case and a lighter, pull on a robe and grab a shirt for Kuroro. Coming down the stairs, you’re stopped by the recently-startling figure of Kuroro in the doorway.
“Mes dieux, Kuroro,” You say, stopping and placing a hand over your chest. “You scared me.”
“Apologies, cara mia, I wanted to come and get a shirt,” He says.
“I grabbed you one,” You say, holding up the fabric in your hand. Black and soft, loose enough to billow in the wind, should he leave it unbuttoned.
Kuroro’s expression turns soft, has a hint of pride underlying the love. He takes the shirt from you and slides it on. “You’re an angel.”
You hum in agreement and slip past him, avoiding a kiss that may or may not come. “I know.”
Outside, you trail down to the beach, letting your feet rest in the cool sand. The beach at night is serene, eerily so. Like walking on another planet, the Earth light years away. The breeze is cool, fluttering against your skin, ruffling the silk of your pyjamas in its quiet movement.
Earth zooms back into your atmosphere upon feeling Kuroro join you on the beach. He’s quiet, but your ears pick up his presence with little prompting.
Muscle memory, perhaps.
“Coucou,” You say, selecting one of the rolled cigarettes with green instead of brown at the tip. Holding it between your lips, you ignite the lighter and cup your hands against the seaside wind.
“Hello to you, too,” Kuroro says, a faint smile on his words. He takes the lighter from you, steadying the flame.
You inhale, the tip of the spliff lighting up a bright orange. The lighter clicks off as you exhale.
“What does this say about me?” You muse, crossing your arms, fingers before your lips.
“You’ll have to be more specific, darling,” Chrollo prods.
You hum, taking another drag. “You scare me.”
Chrollo has the sincerity, at least, to not feign dumb. To not question why you’d be scared of him. “What does that say about you?”
“But...” Shaking your head, you look out at the darkness that swallows the horizon. “Nevermind. I wasn’t going anywhere with that.”
“No?” Chrollo hums, raising his eyebrows. The breeze is cold against his exposed chest. Or perhaps it's your attitude.
“When I’m done out here, I’m going to sleep,” You state, ignoring his question. “When was the last time you slept?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Chrollo says. “I can go a while without sleep.”
Nodding through your inhale, you watch the smoke which leaves your lips with more interest than your conversation. “This is what I mean. You scare me, but I’m concerned about your wellbeing. Isn’t that funny?”
“Endearing,” Chrollo’s voice is as gentle as he can make it.
Instead of swooning, you scoff. As you pass the spliff off to Chrollo, your fingers brush against his, avoiding the lit end. “Sure. Make sure you sleep tonight, we had a big day.”
Before he can follow behind you, to lure you into telling him more about your thoughts, you’re back inside. He’s stuck, out under the moonlight, with a lit cigarette and nowhere but chills white sand to ash.
bloodlust & tears. scorpio tears, to be exact. ao3
calendar | earlier in the day | tomorrow
Time moves in slow motion as Chrollo sits and waits for Machi. It pains him, right down to his core to see tears well up in your eyes and spill over, the way your face contorts from unthinkable pain. One of the white, fluffy towels is sacrificed to be doused in dark red blood as Chrollo applies a steady pressure to the wound on your stomach.
“You’re going to be all better soon,” Kuroro promises, voice quiet.
His phone pings.
Do not move. Be there asap. Machi. Chrollo lets out a shaky sigh of relief.
As Machi and Nobunaga approach the villa, the hairs stand up on the back of their necks. The bloodlust, Chrollo’s bloodlust, is nauseating. It exudes into every aspect of the surrounding area, little flowers and greenery going as far to wilt away.
Nobunaga lays a hand on top of the handle of his sword, sharing a weary glance with Machi.
Machi raises her hand to rub the back of her neck, rolling it around as she walks.
“He’s such a fucking drama queen,” Machi mutters, opening up the front door. Bloodlust hits the two of them like a freight train.
“It’s us!” Machi calls. She heads towards the stairs while Nobunaga goes towards the kitchen, looking for any lurkers. He doubts there would be, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.
Machi climbs the stairs and follows the bloodlust towards the master bathroom. In the doorway is the intruder, still with Kuroro’s knife in his head. Machi delicately steps over it.
The bathroom is normal, for the most part. Products are scattered across the counter, a few crashed on the ground from a scuffle. The smell of a shattered perfume bottle mixes with the smell of blood, creating a sickening fragrance.
Chrollo looks up from where he’s sat on the bathroom floor, back against the counter. Your head is pillowed by his thighs, eyes slowly fluttering open and shut.
Machi doesn’t know if she’s relieved or disappointed you’re still alive. Chrollo is certainly relieved to see Machi, if the immediate decrease of his bloodlust’s intensity is anything to go by.
“I took your instructions very seriously,” Chrollo says.
“I’m going to start charging you,” Machi muttered. She kneeled down next to your wound and Chrollo’s hand. The once white towel was now a dark red.
“You know I’ll pay you,” Chrollo says. “I appreciate you doing this for me.”
Machi materializes her nen to get to work. “You know, you’ve started using all these ‘I’ statements nowadays.” She delicately lifts the towel up, exposing the wound.
Deep and festering.
Machi sighs and shakes her bangs out of her face, steeling herself for the gruesome work set before her. She looks up at Chrollo. “Do you have anything to knock her out with? It’ll hurt.”
“I— What?” Chrollo asks.
“Anesthesia,” Machi repeats. “She can’t be awake while I do this.”
“I don’t have anything,” Chrollo says, looking around. “I think there’s a joint lying around, I’m sure.”
Machi blinks long and hard at Chrollo. “Open your fucking book.”
It takes a few moments of shuffling, of Chrollo flipping through Bandit’s Secret before he comes across a nen ability for prolonged sleep. Normally, he uses nen with no questions of hesitation. However, this time, he can’t help but feel a twinge of remorse in the pit of his stomach.
Pointedly, she ignores the little sniffles and hisses that come through your sleeping body, focusing on cleaning out the wound before sewing it back together.
With every wet blink, and every weak grip in Chrollo’s shirt to try and distract yourself from the pain is met with such softness, such gentleness. His fingers trail along your cheekbone, across the softness of your cheeks.
With the wound sutured closed, Machi falls back on her rear, leaning her head back against the cool tile of the walls. She closes her eyes, exhales.
“What happened?” Machi whispers.
Chrollo clears his throat. Closes his eyes again, as if he can shield himself from the scene in front of him. “It’s like I can’t think straight anymore.”
Machi can’t help but scoff through her nose. “Yeah, it feels like that sometimes, doesn’t it?”
Chrollo nods. He gestures over to the man on the ground. “He knew where we were… He was disguised as me. With a nen ability. He… He fooled her. He—”
Chrollo’s voice cracks, catches on the rough edges of his emotions. Machi sits, lets his emotions have space. She has never been good with Chrollo’s emotions. She’s never been good with her own, for that matter. They feel best squashed down at the bottom of her stomach.
The worst part of Chrollo’s emotions is that they bleed onto her, energy coming off in waves that make those emotions want to come back up the way they came.
“You know, you’ve acted like a real fuckin’ dunce lately,” Machi says.
Chrollo’s chuckle is wet. “Yeah, I know. I know. I never expected this.”
Machi nods. She rights herself, and turns on the faucet to wash her hands clean of your blood.
“I’m going to go ask Nobu to get this fucker out of here,” Machi says, tapping the dead man with her foot. “Do you know anything about him?”
Chrollo’s eyes slide over to the dead man. He swallows a lump in his throat. “I didn’t think before I killed him.”
Machi nods. “We’ll figure it out.”
The lights of the bathroom buzz in her absence. Guilt drips off Chrollo’s limbs, as she collects himself enough to slide his arm under your knees and your lower back. Humanly, his legs have fallen asleep in his time sitting on the floor with you.
You only stir lightly at the change in position. Chrollo steels himself, waiting for life to come back to his limbs before he walks you into the bedroom. He takes score of what must have been happening moments before he got home.
There is a pair of his sleep pants on the bed, and the slick motherfucker moved his bookmark. The least the blaster could have done is pick another book to pretend to read.
Chrollo redirects his anger into getting you out of the bloody sleep set into a big sleep shirt of his own. Once he has you laid in bed, duvet pulled up to your chest, he can almost fool himself into believing that nothing bad actually happened here. That there was never an intruder, that he just came home and found you fast asleep, wearing his clothes, kind enough to lay out pyjamas for him as well.
It’s tempting.
Instead, Nobunaga enters the room and bee lines for the bathroom. All he gives Chrollo is a quick, nondescript, “Hey, Boss,” in passing. He grunts a little, just for show, as he lifts the intruder over his shoulder.
It’s only in the doorway does he stop.
“We’re gonna get rid of him, but… Y’all should sit in the living room with us.” He lingers for a few moments, another comment stuck on his tongue, before he turns and heads back down the stairs. The knife jostles around in the man’s head.
Nobunaga’s right. Chrollo knows he is.
He’ll join soon. He should have gone to church while he was here.
It feels cruel, to be standing above your near-deathbed and praying to a god you don’t believe in, thanking Him for your safety. Even though you lay in a deep, artificial sleep, Chrollo can hear the would-be movement of your lips. It’s the gods doing, it’s your ancestors doing, it’s Machi’s doing. To give credit where credit is due.
So he undoes his work. Pulls you from the bed and carries you down the flight of stairs, careful to keep any bit of you from knocking haphazardly against the wall. Steels himself for the conversation he doesn’t want to have.
what's the saying? can't go around can't go over can't go under must go through
calendar | last night | tonight
Brushing your teeth by yourself used to be the most normal thing in the world. Now, however, it feels cold. Empty. Odd. You used to get startled when Kuroro would appear behind you, place a hand on your lower back to scoot past you, but now you’re startled that he isn’t there.
There’s laughter coming from the living room. It’s deep, scruffed around the edges, and not Kuroro’s. The past few days race by in your head, and you have to stop brushing your teeth as the bile you’ve felt churning in your stomach starts to come up.
You barely make it to the toilet. It’s disgusting. Mint and regret and seafood. Betrayal and prosecco.
You finish brushing your teeth as quickly as you can. When you exit the bathroom, you’re irritated and unsurprised to see Kuroro standing there, looking genuinely concerned. And with him standing there, dressed in linen trousers and a mostly-unbuttoned button up, it makes your soul ache from the inside out. Until you can feel it pulling on all of your bones, as if it was in cohorts with gravity.
If only the floor could actually eat you up and take you away.
“How are you feeling?” Kuroro asks. Not, Are you alright?
It is so hard to not talk to him. It must be part of his charm. “Exhausted,” You admit. Even with everything you know, his chest still looks remotely inviting.
“Do you want to come eat?” Chrollo asks.
Your stomach rolls again. You shake your head.
“Don’t you have murdering to be doing?” You ask with a frown.
“Actually, no. I have the rest of the week off to spend time with my gorgeous and heavenly lover, at the resort where I planned to ask her to marry me.” Chrollo says, and you can feel the sharpness poking through the softness. He’s genuinely upset.
Frown not leaving your face, you keep your arms crossed while you regard Kuroro. If you had any more tears, they’d well up in your eyes. “Don’t say that to me.”
“Say what?” Chrollo asks, tilting his head to the side. “Call you my lover? That’s what we are, aren’t we? Tell you I was going to propose? You already knew that.”
And gods do you want to be. But your jaw locks and you let out a long sigh, shrugging. You pass him, sitting down in the uncomfortable arm chair and draw your leg up to your chest. Chrollo’s eyes follow you, waiting for your answer.
“I wish you’d lied to me,” You mumble.
Chrollo hums, “Is that what you were most upset about?”
“After I learned the truth. I was happy before.”
“Maybe one day you’ll forget the truth,” Chrollo says, “And you can pretend this was all just a horrible nightmare.”
You bite the inside of your cheek. You feel lightheaded from all the tears you’ve cried, and from throwing up.
“Can I have some more water?” You ask.
Chrollo nods, and takes the glass off the nightstand, heading downstairs with it. You watch his retreating figure with your chin propped up on your knee. The feared leader of the Phantom Troupe, off to get you another glass of water.
It still doesn’t feel real. You’ve only ever known Kuroro to be gentle and soft and kind with you. Take you on dates that left you feeling warm all over, wash your hair and make you pancakes in the morning.
And it’s not that you want to die either. It’s a peculiar situation you’ve found yourself in. Perhaps five years ago you would have jumped at the opportunity. But now? The idea seemed foregin. Scary.
You cared more about the well being of the people in your life to ever think about going and telling anyone about who Kuroro actually was.
Chrollo returns, and holds the water out in front of you, until your eyes defog and you’re snapped out of your thoughts, accepting the glass.
“What are you thinking about, darling?” Chrollo asks, taking a seat on the floor, resting back on his hands to show that he had no intentions of leaving any time soon.
It’s not like you have anyone else to talk to. “Are the other people in my life in danger because of...” You gesture between the two of you. Take a long sip of water. You can feel the hydration working through your system.
“No, probably not. In the eyes of anyone who would put them in danger, they’re worthless. It’s not like any of your friends are involved in foregin policy. And they are your friends. Not mine.”
“I just don’t want any of my friends to be hurt because of my actions,” You clarify. “That I know you have to understand.”
The comment sends Chrollo somewhere else. His eyes leave for his thoughts, despite his head nodding. You don’t say anything else, just watch him. Watch as he thinks.
You finish your water, and set it down on the bedside table. Stand up, make your way to the closet where you’d unpacked all your clothes. Chrollo’s eyes don’t follow you how they normally do. You’re equal parts relieved and saddened.
You get changed into your swimsuit, one you’d bought with Kuroro. You pull a sundress over it, one you’d bought with Kuroro.
That was the thing. Is that everything had this ‘with Kuroro’ notion to it now. There was no more being by yourself.
With that at the forefront of your mind, you also grab some of Kuroro’s swimming briefs, ones that you had bought with him. That was the fickle thing about relationships, wasn’t it? That they went two ways.
You come back out to the bedroom, where Kuroro has moved from sitting to standing in front of the windows that overlook the beach. He’s thinking, his chin rests in his hands and his eyes are anywhere but here, a telltale sign that his thoughts aren’t either.
It brings pause. Your stomach can’t figure out how to rest inside of you. Terror is something that should course through you. You’ve read countless articles about this man, you even went on a few dates with a woman who would not shut up about the Phantom Troupe and knew of every little crime they had committed. It was not worth the free food and the heavy pours of wine.
And here is that feared mastermind, back to you with all of the worries in the world on his back.
There’s a strange flicker inside of you, one you can’t place yet. You might need to sit down in front of an emotions wheel, and work your way backwards. It’s not lust, you know that much, but you do know that it’s readily stoked by your current situation.
“I do want to go lay out by the beach, though,” You say, interrupting his thoughts.
He turns to look at you, eyes quickly taking in everything. You’ve changed, that’s what he first notices.
“Come again?”
You throw his shorts at him, which he catches with ease.
“I want to spend time by the beach. I want breakfast to be brought to me and I want an iced coffee,” You say, picking your book up from where it had been left on the nightstand. “But if you don’t want to come, I can go on my own or invite your coworkers to go with me.”
It feels wrong to call them coworkers, now that you know the truth.
However, it doesn’t take an idiot to realize that this will be easiest for you if you just go along with it. If you’re going to die, you might as well die comfortably, with your suspension of belief lifted just long enough to make it through the week.
It’s like watching a shitty television show with a low budget. Only this time, the budget seems to be your emotions.
And your suddenness to do something seems to have caught Kuroro off guard. He watches you like you’ve grown two heads. You stare at him right back.
It doesn’t take more than a few moments for him to understand. You wait in the room for him to change, mulling over the next hurdle you have.
Sunscreen.
You could always ask Kuroro to help you put it on, but then you are violently reminded of how that is how you were got. The clone, the assassin, the intruder had gotten you because Kuroro always offers to help you put on sunscreen. You hadn’t thought twice about it.
“What are you thinking about this time, darling?” Kuroro asks while he passes you, selecting one of his lighter, linen button ups to wear down to the beach.
You don’t bother looking up, and keep your eyes trained where they are. “‘M thinking about that clone.”
Chrollo pauses. He takes you in very carefully, analyzing the situation. “What about him?”
“He put my sunscreen on,” You say, very simply, raising your gaze to meet his. Your nostrils flare as you try not to cry. You can’t cry anymore, you don’t think there’s enough water left in your body. Soon the collagen in your face will start leaving to make more tears. “‘S why I didn’t second guess him. He knew exactly how to put on my sunscreen.”
You bring your hand up to your mouth, pinching your lips together in thought. Your next sentence is a terrified whisper. “Like he’d been watching us.”
Chrollo’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t think you’ve ever noticed, but you apply my sunscreen the same way every time. Even when we’re...” It feels like sour and sweet candy, “Home.”
“Do I?” Chrollo muses, looking to the right as he tries to recall the memory. “I was unaware. Can I—”
“No, I think I’d have another panic attack,” You say, biting your bottom lip. “When you do it, you do it the same way every time. It’s... I was really nice. You go up the back of my neck and it’s more of a massage than applying lotion, but you also... You always come around and insist that you do my sides because you want to touch my breasts.”
It’s funny, watching Kuroro’s eyes try to not flit down. Your lips twitch, and you make your peace with death.
“You think the rest of the world knows that the fearsome leader of the Phantom Troupe is a horndog who likes to cop feels at any given time?”
Chrollo raises his hands in defeat, taking your grin and placing it on his own face, “I’m still in my twenties.”
Your nose scrunches up in distaste. “I hate when you phrase it like that.”
“I’ve always had a thing for older women,” Chrollo says.
“I’m five years older than you,” You frown.
“Older,” Chrollo repeats back to you. Despite the amusement lingers on his face, you can tell that he’s already begun thinking about something else. Gods know what. “Let's go get some breakfast, shall we?”
He offers his hand to you, and you look at it skeptically before looking back to his face, then to his hand. He’s patient, waiting for you to feel safe enough to slide your hand into his. It doesn’t sit well within him, to know that everytime he’s left you by yourself something horrible has happened. Whether that be food poisoning or a stabbing.
The most worrisome offense is the spider in his shower that was not himself.
When you first wake up, you’re alone in bed. Thinking little of it, you fall back to sleep. Your morning dreams are pungent, ripe with visions of the future. You’re floating, warm and content as your subconscious fills your sleep with taboo thoughts of little ones with Kuroro’s face, with your eyes and an irritating, early blooming mixture of both your wit.
When you wake up for the second time, warm and content, you’re alone in bed. You aren’t alone, though. Kuroro stands in the center of the room, getting dressed for the day. With half closed eyes, you watch his muscles shift under his skin as he shrugs on a black button up.
He’s gained weight. You remember when you first met, how he looked as if he barely ate. His skin was too tight over his muscles. It was hot, sure, but in a magazine poster way. Not in a partner way, not in a lover way. Now, however, there’s softness to his abs, and a gentle curve of his tummy. You want to leave bites all over.
Before he has time to button up his shirt, Kuroro notices your gaze. He strides towards you, an easy smile on his face.
“Good morning, princess,” He says against your forehead, while placing a kiss.
You hum, content in his doting. “Angel…” Is all you say, voice muddled with sleep. You close your eyes again. Kuroro is close. There’s no need to have them open.
“Yes, darling?” The lilt to Kuroro’s voice brings heat to your cheeks and in your gut.
Instead of responding, you retrieve a hand from beneath the pillow to dopily rest it on his cheek. He smiles, pressing another kiss to your forehead. Instead of sitting on the bed, by your side, he squats next to it and holds your hand. It’s a shame, you wanted to put your head in his lap.
“Come back in bed,” You murmur.
“I can’t. Remember, I have that workday today?”
“Were you just going to leave me without saying goodbye?” You pout, furrowing your brow.
“I wanted to let you sleep for as long as possible,” Chrollo explains. You can’t ever argue with him when he brings up your well being. “And you’re awake now.”
“And you’re dressed,” You bemoan, sliding your hand from his to slip your fingers against his wrist, under the sleeve of his shirt. “You couldn’t have waited?”
Chrollo shakes his head. “I’m actually running a bit late. I spent a very long time looking for my razor.”
“Did you shave?” You ask, intrigued.
He nods, and places your hand against his cheek. The skin is impossibly soft. You smile, sitting up on your free arm. The sheet slips down to your waist, revealing your chest. You lean forwards so you don’t have to stretch your arm as far.
“I like you more like this than stubbly,” You say.
Kuroro can’t help but chuckle. “Me too. I don’t think facial hair suits me.” You shake your head in agreement, smiling along with him. He swallows a tinge of regret. “I do have to get going, darling. Do you want me to send some breakfast over?”
“That would be sweet of you. Have you eaten yet?”
“I’ll be sure to,” Chrollo says, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead before standing up.
He buttons up his shirt while your fingers hook around one of his belt loops, keeping him close. You tug him forwards a bit, your face level with his groin. Brown eyes flit from his buttons to your own, giving a simple blink.
A sly smile begins to pull its way across your face as you lean in, breath ghosting against the material of his trousers. One of his hands comes down, pressing your head back by your chin. His thumb and forefinger sit on either side.
“When I get home.”
“I’m hungry now.”
Chrollo keeps firm with his resolve, despite the carnal desire brought up by the mere motion.
“And you’ll still be hungry when I get back.” You begin to respond. “Tell me I’m wrong.” His voice has a certain playful edge to it, yet steady in his correctness.
You sigh dramatically and flop backwards on the bed, arms out, head pillowed by your hair. “You’re such a bore sometimes.”
“Hm, I suppose I could be occasionally. What makes you say that now?” He raises an eyebrow.
“You won’t let me play around with you. We’re on vacation.”
“For the next ten hours, I won’t be on vacation.” He copies your tone as he walks off to put on his watch. “But as soon as I’m back, I’m all yours.”
Rolling over to watch him, you sigh softly. “I’m gonna miss you.”
“I’m going to miss you too, sweetheart,” Kuroro says. He runs his hands through his slightly damp hair, then shakes it out so it frames either side of his tattoo.
Chrollo indulges himself in a few bedside kisses. Your lips are too soft against his, too easy to sink into. He pulls away with reluctance, cupping your face.
“I’ll be here when you get back,” You promise, basking under Kuroro’s adoring gaze.
“I know,” Chrollo says. “Don’t have too much fun without me.”
“I’m going to ruin your credit score while you’re gone.” Your eyes flutter shut.
Chrollo chuckles. Good luck. He presses kisses to your eyelids, the bridge of your nose. “Alright, darling. I have to get going now.”
“For real?”
“For real.” His response is soft. Gentle.
“I love you,” You whisper, as your a tout a l’heure.
“To the moon and back,” Kuroro whispers.
The kiss doesn’t last long enough before Kuroro is out the door, leaving you alone in bed. You sigh, staring at the smooth ceiling of the villa. The front door opens and shuts.
You miss him already.
The waves pulse ashore. You watch them, through the view of the master room. It’s peaceful. It’s calming.
Thinking of having breakfast by the beach, you rise from the bed to dress yourself. You don your swimsuit and a little dress to go with it, filling your bag with necessities: your book, your sunglasses, your wallet and phone. It’s freeing.
Sat by yourself on the beach at the resort restaurant, you can’t help but people watch while you wait for your coffee. There are many couples, some of which who like each other more than others. It sinks in that you’re the only person by yourself.
The waiter brings you an iced coffee, complete with a paper straw. You order a fruit cup and a pastry. There’s already condensation prickling at the thin glass.
Pulling out your book, you let yourself enjoy the worn pages and old story. Old to the pages, new to you.
“Excuse me, miss,” The waiter politely interrupts you, setting down the fruit. You look up, giving the waiter a polite smile. “Can I get you anything else?”
“Could I get an ashtray, actually?” You ask.
“Actually, ma’am, you can’t smoke here,” The waiter apologizes.
You sigh in dejection. “That’s alright. I might order some heavier food later, but thank you.”
Left alone, you drink your coffee in peace and listen to the casual chatter around you. It’s the first time in a while you’ve been able to take a moment and just be alone. You wonder what became of that extremist manuscript you’d been given. Perhaps you should have followed up with that. Kuroro would have told you if it was important, he would have.
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful Kuroro. You don’t know what you’ve done in your past lives to deserve him. It’s a give and a take, you suppose. Your grandmother loves him. Occasionally, he reminds you of Petruchio.
Whether that is a blessing or a curse, you take a little bit of offense to it. If he is Petruchio, that makes you Katharina.
And you let yourself wonder what it would be like to take Kuroro’s proposition about moving, about not working. You’re not too sure about how Kakin feels. It’s not as if you could never come back to the city, come back to your home. And you know without doubt that Kuroro would take care of you.
And even if he didn’t. It’s not as if you can’t just fly back home.
You can’t help yourself. You set your book face down on the table, flat to hold your place and crease the spine. It takes mere seconds for Wolliz to appear on the screen, and you’re looking for houses out in Kakin.
You just want to know what your options would be.
The foliage in the photos of each photo is gorgeous— dark woods and leaves, with light-toned flowers of every hue. You’ve never had a backyard before, you wonder what it would be like to wake up with the grass just moments away.
Movies always portray backyards as filled, with company and food. The thought of Kuroro standing at a grill makes a smile come to your lips. Your teenage self would be livid at how head over heels you are. For a man, no less.
You finish your meal, leaving an almost-cleared plate of french toast in your wake. On your walk back to the villa, you enjoy the light buzz of those around you. The couples and the families, and even the occasional girls trip.
You’ve missed your friends. When you get back you’ll see them. Maybe there could be a girls only resort weekend in your future.
The moment you cross the threshold of the villa your stomach sinks. It’s overwhelming, dizzying. The feeling passes after a few seconds.
You take Kuroro’s Lord’s name in vain, going back to your room to put on a swimsuit. It’s not everyday you get to be on the beach. Savoring the sea breeze is essential to your sanity.
Dressed and sun screened, you head out to the little back patio. Shock course through you, upon realizing you had left your cigarettes and lighter outside.
You pick up the items, and for a moment debate indulging yourself in one. It feels wrong, under the warm sun, but you indulge yourself anyways. The lighter is hot in your head. The nicotine rushes straight to your head.
The back door slides open. You jump as you turn around, but relax immediately when you see Kuroro, armed in sunglasses and suntan lotion. You’re distracted by how handsome he looks in sunglasses, which is a rare treat. Confusion begins to set in.
“That was fast,” You state, furrowing your brow. Elation threatens to break the faux-firmness.
Kuroro tilts his head to the side. “I wanted to come back to you quickly.”
A little smile tugs at the corner of your lips, which you quickly busy with the cigarette between your fingers.
“You’re sweet. Want some?” You ask, offering the cigarette over to Kuroro.
He only hesitates for a moment. “Sure.” Coming over, he sets the lotion on the outdoor table, taking the cigarette from you for a sip of smoke. And another one. And another—
“Don’t hog it!” You say, smiling as you playfully reach over to grab it from him.
He shrugs you off. He takes one last puff, and hands it back.
“Sorry,” Kuroro says. “Didn’t mean to keep it from you.”
You fix him the look you give him when you know he’s lying. There’s no use in Kuroro pretending you’re an idiot.
“Would you like a hand?” Kuroro deflects, taking the lotion from your hands. You nod, and turn to face away from him.
Kuroro takes a breath. He carefully begins to rub the lotion in, making sure to not leave any skin uncovered. Just as he normally would. Just as he normally would.
To make up for his morning absence, Kuroro treats you for the rest of the day. He lays in the sun without complaining, even if it’s mainly to benefit from feeling your hands on his abs and chest. Takes you out to a fancy dinner, with candlelight and roses.
It’s nearly impossible to hide your disappointment when you leave without a ring on your finger.
As you take off your makeup in the brightly lit bathroom, Chrollo sits on the bed and watches you. His gaze is almost nauseating, too cool for your liking.
“Everything okay, baby?” You ask, gently rubbing moisturizer into your cleaned skin.
“Hm?” You snap him out of his daze. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
You shrug. “Just checking in.”
There’s a bit of panic in Kuroro’s eyes. It makes you pause.
“You sure you’re okay, angel? You seem stressed.” He nods. “Come here, honey.”
Dutifully, Kuroro crosses into the bathroom. He stands a few paces away from you, and you have to take his hand in yours to bring him closer to you.
“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet,” You murmur.
“Cold feet?”
The front door opens. You freeze, hand instinctively squeezing Kuroro’s tightly. What protection a squeeze will bring, you don’t know, but you hope it’s enough.
“Who’s…”
Kuroro places a finger to his lips. You copy his movements, placing your own finger atop your own lips.
Kuroro places a kiss to your forehead. You close your eyes.
“Darling?” Comes Kuroro’s voice from the other side of the door.
Your eyes flash open.
The Kuroro before you quickly slams a hand over your mouth. A sharp, metal object with a pulsing aura presses against the skin of your stomach. As you hold his gaze, you can feel yourself relaxing.
One sound and you’re dead.
It isn’t any voice you recognize that speaks in your head. Despite your desire to panic, the longer you hold Kuroro’s gaze, the harder it is to not just relax into him. Everything is warm.
“Darling?” Comes Kuroro’s voice again. His tone hardens. “I’m about to open this door.”
You don’t know what’s caused you to become so sleepy, why your stomach feels so warm. The door opens, and you see double.
Pain is all you feel, erupting through your stomach as you speak. “Coucou, les deux,” You say dumbly.
“Ophelia,” Kuroro-in-the-doorway breathes, worry filling his face. He moves faster than humanly possible, migrating immediately across the bathroom. Within seconds, there’s a knife buried to the hilt in his clone’s skull.
As the life leaves your beloveds’ eyes, his appearance changes right before your eyes. The warm, peasant feeling in your stomach turns sharp, decimating. There’s a man on top of you that you don’t know, and Kuroro stands behind him. Panic bubbles up in your throat, bile congealing it’s way up your esophagus. You can see the blood and the brain …matter that must be oozing from the bald man atop you’s wound.
Kuroro is pick to discard the man atop of you and quickly scoops you up into his arms. You can smell his musk, you can smell the last notes of his cologne. He holds you, he comforts you in one hand while he summons Machi with a quick text in the other.
The weapon must have been nen made, because it disappeared the moment the man died. A steady pool of blood bubbles up from your abdomen, and Kuroro resolutely holds one of the white towels against the wound, applying a steady but firm pressure.
“Kuroro…” You whisper. His free hand quickly comes to cup your face. Your fingernails drag over his veins and knuckles.
“Yes, darling?”
“Who have I spent the day with?”
Chrollo is unable to give an answer. If he is Icarus, then you are warmer than the sun.
“I’m going to find out,” Kuroro promises. “Do you trust me?”
“Can you make my stomach stop hurting?” Tears well in the bottoms of your eyes. The pain is becoming unbearable.
“I will,” Kuroro promises. “I’m sorry I took so long to come home.”
“How do I know you’re my… My Kuroro?”
Once more, there’s no answer for Chrollo to give. Jealousy stirs inside of him, at the thought that you had taken this imposter to be him. Was he that easy to mimic? Perhaps it was just that easy to be in love with you.
“Because we’re soulmates,” Chrollo says. “And I’m going to do anything for you.”
“I think I’m having an episode,” You whisper. Psychosis was never fun.
“Hm?” It’s good to keep you talking.
“I think you just stabbed me,” You say, quiet as can be. “And now you’re saving my life, and there’s a man on the floor losing brains and blood.”
“That is what appears to be happening, isn’t it?”
You can’t help the dopey little smile that comes across your lips. “That’s how I know you’re my Kuroro… You’re so full of bullshit.”
Chrollo smiles, gazing down at you. “Can I kiss you?”
You nod, and get rewarded with a small kiss to your forehead.
“Let’s get you patched up,” Chrollo murmurs. You still seem dazed, and he doesn’t want to make you panic. One of his hands caresses the side of your face, his fingertips keeping your gaze trained on him so you didn’t look down to the blood that was rapidly seeping through the thin of your robe.
It worries him, while he dials Machi’s number, at how you’re dressed. It doesn’t bother him that you’re dressed sensually, it bothers him that you trusted who appeared to be him. How good the decoy must have been. Unless he had you under some sort of nen ability.
i think the end of chapter notes i gave on ao3 were funny: Essay Question: Utilizing the "Madwomen in the Attic" theory that was popularized by Gilbert and Gubar, explain the relationship between Kate Chopin's 'The Awakening,' Shakespeare's play 'Taming of the Shrew' and Lana Del Rey's first studio album, 'Born to Die.' | ao3
calendar | part one | tonight
Your return is announced by the violence in which you slam the sliding door open and shut. Chrollo looks up and over from where he hasn’t moved, lost in his own thoughts.
“I don’t know what to do with you right now, so I’m going back to bed,” You huff, shaking your head. “Don’t wake me up unless there’s crab legs involved.”
And with that, you’re gone, right up the stairs.
At least, Chrollo rationalizes, you don’t seem too scared of him. He also rationalizes that the second he brings some sort of seafood boil back, you’d tolerate his presence.
He wants to know how much you truly hate him.
The bedroom door slams shut with just as much intensity, followed by a muffled scream. Into a pillow no doubt. A rather normal reaction, to the situation being presented.
Chrollo does the dishes to get his mind off of reality. He’d heard often, read often about the idea of playing house. And he thought about you, often, whenever the term crossed his mind.
He wonders, now, if crab legs would actually do anything to heal the situation. He wonders, now, on what he’d have to do moving forwards. Options loom in front of him.
In the bedroom, you try to find your phone, but it's nowhere to be seen. You toss pillows aside, lift up the heavy duvet. There’s a sick feeling bubbling in your chest, sparked by the reality that kept setting in on you.
The man I want to marry is an enemy of the state is what your brain decides on. It sends a shiver down your spine. Then, If he’s being truthful, which I’m sure he is, I either accept him as he is, or I accept death. Followed quickly by, This isn’t a bad place to die.
What a wonderful and unexpected group of thoughts to appear on what should have been a normal vacation.
Without a way to call anyone and enough anxiety in your soul to keep you awake for days on end, you exit the bedroom. Stand in the door frame of the kitchen. Watch, with your arms folded, as Chrollo futzes about the kitchen. Puts dishes away, with music playing from his phone.
He looks so normal.
“Where’s my phone?” You ask.
Chrollo glances over at you, face as calm as could be. “It’s in my bedside table. You didn’t look there?”
Blinking, you open your mouth and then immediately close it.
Chrollo hums, pleased as a cat. “I was going to order crab legs in, just for you. Do you still want me to?”
You want to say no. So badly.
Your bottom lip juts out just slightly before you compose yourself again. “Can we keep talking about... What we were talking about before?”
“If you’d like,” Chrollo says. “I was just following your wishes.”
“I know you’re telling the truth, but... I can’t believe it,” You whisper. “I’m scared.”
“What are you scared of exactly, darling?” Chrollo leans up against the counter, head tilted to the side slightly. Everything about him makes your stomach lurch.
“What happens next?” You ask.
“If I had it my way, nothing would change. If you’re comfortable with it, of course. I’ve never enjoyed anyone as much as I enjoy your company, and I would do a lot to keep you in my life. And, now that you know the last of my secrets, it will be much easier to keep you safe. What are you most worried about, darling?”
Superficial things. “Are you going to kill me?”
Chrollo’s eyebrows immediately bunch together in concern. “Not if I can help it.”
“If you can help it?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t know, killing someone seems like a choice you make.”
“Well, if you were going to go to the police and endanger myself and my family, then yes. But I don’t think you’re going to do that. So no, I won’t kill you.”
Unsatisfied, but accepting, you cross your arms. “I’m up for tenor at my university.”
Chrollo blinks, eyebrows raising. He sits up almost immediately. “How long have you known? We should have celebrated.”
“I don’t have it yet,” You clarify. “But... I want to be able to accept it. And it doesn’t seem like I can anymore.”
“I never said you had to be involved in my line of business,” Chrollo says. “In all honesty, had no one ever been set out trying to kill you, I don’t think you’d ever had to know.”
You huff. “I just haven’t been able to fully process everything.”
“There is quite a lot to process,” Chrollo agrees.
“I guess my next question is, what is the reasoning for moving to Kakin?”
“I intend to kill someone who’s been a pest in my side for far too long. He’s been responsible for the deaths of a few of my friends, and I intend to make him pay. Then once I’ve handled that, I plan on robbing the royal family until they have nothing left,” Chrollo states calmly.
“Who’s the pest?” You ask. If you’re going to die, you might as well die with as much information as you can get.
“A floor master at Heaven’s Arena. He’s been wanting to fight me for years now, and I’m ready to get it over with.”
“Super descriptive. Who is it?”
Chrollo’s face turns to one of disgust. “Hisoka.”
Your eyes widen, and you can’t help the laugh of disbelief that bubbles up inside of you. One of your hands covers your mouth as you process the information.
“What’s so funny?” Chrollo asks with a slight frown. Part of his frown stems from the fact it might be one of the last times he gets to hear you laugh.
“I have a friend who has such a huge crush on him,” You say.
Chrollo’s disgust deepens. “On him?”
You nod, “Huge crush.”
“So you know him.”
“Everything I’ve learned about him has been against my will.”
Chrollo’s disgust begins to match your own expression. Disbelief and judgement towards your friend’s horrible taste in men. “That’s absolutely insane.”
“You’re telling me,” You say, shaking your head. Your mind doesn’t let you get sidetracked for too long, before you’re back to remembering your situation. That the man across from you is your boyfriend, but not in the ways in which you’ve always believed. It sobers you up quickly.
“Enough talk about Deidra’s poor choices in men,” You say.
Chrollo’s eyebrows raise even higher, jaw dropping slightly in disbelief. “This is Deidra?”
“Are you really that surprised?” You ask.
Chrollo thinks it over, thinks about all of the horrible men you had shown him pictures off of your phone that were apparently Deidra’s boyfriends. “I can’t say that I am,” He admits.
“Exactly. Stop trying to distract me. What do you mean that he wants to fight you? In what world does he know you?”
Technically, you got us off topic, Chrollo thinks, but he bites his tongue. “Remember the conversation we were having a few hours ago?”
“Right, the one about you being a mass murderer?” You say, the noun clawing its way out of your mouth with such ferocity.
“I think it sounded better when you called me an art thief,” Chrollo says. Do you think that we could just pretend you just think I’m an art thief?
“Shame that you aren’t,” You say. “But I don’t know if it’s something I can turn a blind eye to.”
“I hate to be a bearer of bad news,” Chrollo says, and holds your cutting gaze. “But if you like what we have, it’s something you should blind yourself towards.”
You swallow thickly. “You know what I heard?”
“I’m sure it’s not the quote about Jesus telling the man to gouge out his eyes.”
“He was talking about cheating on your wife,” You say. “I don’t think he was talking about telling your girlfriend that you’re actually a highly wanted criminal.”
“Touché. What did you hear, darling?”
The sweet name pulls at your heart strings. “I...” You take a deep breath. “It sounds like I don’t have a choice. Or, I do have one. But it’s not much of a choice if the other option is death.”
Chrollo hums, deep and thinking. “I suppose it’s not.”
“But I— If you’re being truthful about who you actually are… I know about what you’ve done. It makes my skin crawl to know that— To know that you’ve—”
Nausea builds. The man from last night, the criminal before you now. And to think you’ve never felt loved when you’ve been touched before Kuroro. It’s too much, too much information back to back.
And you love him.
To think that you’ve spent years and years and years telling impressionable, skeptical young adults about what makes the Brontë sisters good. It’s that the men they write about, the evil, horrible men who lock women away in attics, are fantasies. They aren’t real.
And yet, here you are.
A glass of water gets set before you, followed by the familiar orange of your anxiety medication.
“You’re about to have a panic attack,” Kuroro says. “I don’t think this is something you want to be scatterbrained for.”
You want to laugh at the irony of his actions and your thoughts. However, he is right. He often is, when it comes to you. You take the medicine, and wash it down with a few glugs of water. Some of it even drips down your chin, and you’re quick to wipe it away.
The two of you sit in silence while you take deep breaths. While you press the tips of your fingers together. While you wait for your heart to stop racing.
It takes a long time. Longer than normal. A few glasses of water. Normally, Kuroro would play with your hair and wipe your tears. Rub your back until you were ready to either talk about it or move on. This time, however, he keeps his distance.
He leaves the room entirely for a few moments. You stare blankly at the chair he had left empty. When Kuroro returns, he sits back in his chair, and your gaze slowly makes its way back to his face.
“I wish you never told me,” You say, hand coming up to wipe away your tears before they could fall. “I knew you were too good to be true.”
There’s a finality that lingers on the table.
“Can I go swimming one last time?” You ask softly.
One last time. Chrollo’s eyes on you are intense. Deep in thought. He takes a deep breath in.
“Are you positive?” Chrollo asks. Are you positive that you’d rather die?
“No,” Your voice cracks in your admittance. You shake your head. “Not at all.”
“There is always the option you seem unwilling to consider. The one where we have a wonderful rest of our vacation. The one where we return and you get to show all of your coworkers, your friends and your nail technician how beautiful the ring your fiancé put on your finger is. You can go back to work, be ready for the new semester in the fall. I’ll meet you at work to walk you home, I could even drive you. I’ll handle my business, I won’t ever talk about it. You’ll call me and tell me all about your day, and I’ll tell you about how beautiful the ocean is in Kakin. And while I’m gone, tending to my work, I’ll make sure that you’re safe and cared for. That no one would ever hurt you again.”
You look from his hand which rests on the table to his face. His eyes are soft, despite the tension you can see in his jaw, trailing down to his neck. It’s so subtle.
Chrollo continues. “There’s no reason for you to make a decision now. Just know that no matter what, I’ll take care of you.”
He has to find the man who ruined his fantasy.
“The decision is yours. I’ll respect and understand whichever way you choose.”
You nod wordlessly. What a horrible place to be put in.
Kuroro doesn’t leave. He simply just sits here. He wants to soak in every moment he has remaining.
Eventually, you speak.
“You weren’t ever going to tell me, were you?” You ask.
“No. For this reason exactly.”
You nod. Your fingers play with the condensation. “Gods, I hate how much I love you. I just… I just wanted something normal with you.”
“We could always still have something normal,” Kuroro says, voice quiet soothing.
Tears well up in your eyes. You scrunch your nose up, pout your lips. “I don’t think so, Kuroro. Not that I know who you are now.”
Chrollo doesn’t know what to do with himself. He watches as tears build up in your eyes, as you hold your bicep to self soothe. He has a plan for this, he does. He doesn’t think you’ll want to hear it, not anymore.
“I’m still the same person I was when we met,” Chrollo says.
You shake your head. “No you aren’t. No, gods Kuroro. Even before this, you’ve changed so much. Changed enough from friend with benefits to be husband material. I didn’t think you were even datable when we first met. You’ve changed.”
You want the butterflies in your stomach again, the ones from when you had one too many mimosas at brunch and told your friends that your boyfriend was picking you up. Your stomach lurches when you think about your friends. Tears start again.
“I was so happy,” You breathe. “Fuck, I was so happy.”
Standing, your legs shake just slightly below you. “I’m going to go lie down. For real this time. I— I’m so hurt right now.”
Kuroro nods. “I understand.”
“No you don’t,” You reply, before turning and immediately leaving.
The waiting is perhaps the worst part of all of this. Chrollo drums his fingers on the table. No matter what you decided, he was going to get his revenge, slow and torturous, on whoever ruined his escapism.
