gho(st)²ories (yan/obsessive chrollo x reader)

Act 4, Chapter 7

Getting ready for a funeral always feels different than any other time, you've thought like that before already.

In general, the whole morning was very different than any other time.

After you got dressed and were about to go downstairs, the notebook caught your eye.

You picked it up and took it down, laying it on the dining room table.

You made breakfast and ate it, when you looked at the clock you realized that you had finished a lot earlier than planned and had an hour before you had to leave.

The notebook caught your eye once more and you picked it up again before you got up and took a pen out of the random-stuff-drawer in your kitchen.

You wanted to continue writing in it, to record your life and that others who might live here in the future could also get to know about Chrollo like your great-uncle educated you.

Maybe it would help those people in the future to understand what was happening in their house inexplicably, like it helped you.

If you couldn't get rid of Chrollo for your own good and that of others, then this was what you could do.

For about forty minutes you wrote down what had happened so far, glancing up every now and then to make sure you weren't getting too sunken in the writing.

When your hand started to hurt and it was time to drive off, you put your pen between the pages where you paused your story and stood up.

The door to the guest room was still closed and since it was normally left open, the light in the small hallway was clearly absent.

You still had a little time, which is why you plucked up all your courage and walked towards the door before you opened it.

You expected a dark room, you expected the boxes to be stacked in front of the windows again, but that wasn't the case.

The boxes had moved, yes, now they just stood unfolded in the empty corner between the wall and the cupboard opposite the window though.

You knew that yesterday you had left the room with boxes that had been kicked together and lying around and you were sure that you had never entered the room again.

So it must have been Chrollo, there was simply no other explanation, even if a ghost as an explanation never sounded rational.

So you left the guest room again, but this time you left the door open behind you.

Weird, why would he clean up a room that you left a mess?

You went upstairs again and grabbed the box of your great uncle's stuff.

Twelve of the thirteen pictures that you had found in the attic ended up in the box, you wanted to put the thirteenth in the notebook because on the back of the selected photo there was the sign that was also represented on Chrollo's forehead.

You hadn't even noticed the sign when you saw Chrollo reflected in your window back then, that unlike Abir's drawing, his hair wasn't slicked back.

You put the box on the passenger seat and started the car after you buckled up and put music on.

You took one last look at your house when you saw your bedroom window open in the upper corner of your eye.

You only caught a glimpse of the white hands pushing open the window from the inside before they disappeared.

You drove off with nausea in your throat.

The dense fog that had been lying on earth since this morning had not improved since then, it had even gotten worse.

It got so bad you had to drive slower than usual with your headlights on high.

You were also surprised by the raindrops that suddenly smashed on your windshield, thanks to the fog you couldn't see the gray clouds anymore that were now emptying their contents.

Over time, the rain got heavier and heavier, only when you arrived at your destination did it lessen until it stopped completely shortly afterwards.

You stayed a moment longer in the warmth of your car, somehow not quite daring to get out.

Here, too,  was fog on the streets and made the chapel of the graveyard look creepy, unsettling.

After a few moments however you had composed yourself and got out, leaving the box in the car because you didn't even know if anyone would even want it.

You walked silently in the direction of the chapel and entered through the open door.

A woman was standing at the entrance.

She was much older than you, around 60 or 70, her eyes were red from crying.

She shook hands with everyone who wanted to enter the chapel, greeted the people arriving and thanked them for their condolences.

You didn't know who she was, you didn't know her name or her face, but you took her hand and shook it.

"I'm sorry for your loss." You said and she thanked you, but she didn't let go of your hand like she did with the people in front of you, which made you uneasy.

"I don't want to be rude.." she began, the caution and something shaky clearly in her voice, "..but in which relation were you to my brother..?"

She looked deep into your eyes but didn't seem intrusive, so an answer was easy for you to tell.

"My name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N), I-" but she didn't let you finish before she started talking again herself.

"(Y/N)!" she suddenly said with a lot of joy in her voice and put her free hand on your shoulder, her touch was pleasantly warm.

"We haven't seen each other for so long, it's a pity that meeting again has to take place under such circumstances..." she said.

You still didn't know who she was, except for her family background, you just nodded with a slight smile.

"Oh, you don't remember me at all!  You were just a toddler the last time we saw each other.  I'm your great-uncle's sister!" She shook your shoulder once before letting go of your hand, while the other stayed on your shoulder.

"He never stopped talking about you, you were kind of his replacement for kids after he found out he couldn't have any of his own.  You kept us all pretty much on our toes back then!" She paused briefly, looking behind you before continuing in a calmer voice.

,,Sit down, gladly with me in the first row, and we'll talk later.  I have work to do here." She squeezed your shoulder in an encouraging pattern.

You nodded before walking away from her and taking a a
seat in a front row seat as she had suggested.