Changes (Chrollo x Reader)

Chapter 11: Home

Hours had passed well into the night and from the position of the moon, through the opening, I could tell it was about one in the morning, nearing two. The majority of us all were sleeping, I was the exception, Shal, Paku, Hisoka, Kortopi also being the minority. The wind was whistling against the open windows, brushing its angelic dance against us all and flowing around us like tranquil water, when suddenly a song from heaven surrounded us all, from an upper floor. It was muffled in the calmest way, but known none the less.

I wanted to know if it was just me who heard this, since on many occasions the sad man in the painting moved at the manor, but only for me, but it wasn't my head. The wind went in rhythm with the piano playing upstairs in an old fashioned way, and everyone awake slumped and relaxed, the people sleeping snored slightly louder. Paku was resting her back against a propped up piece of wall, and upon hearing the music, she put her head back, relaxing the stoic muscles in her face and showing her true beauty as her lips upturned in a smile from the sound of her home.

Curiosity got the best of me that night, and quietly I stood up from under the ceiling, a few shifting from the change in atmosphere, but nobody noticing anything great, and I made my way to the exit of the main area. There was a flight of stairs, crowded with rubble, that seems to be the theme of our hideout, and the sound bounced louder against the walls. It was a muse from the heavens, I knew this song well, and it ushered me to go up, and so I listened. The sound gradually got louder, the air got thicker, warmer a bit, and a light from the hallway showed shadows of pillars. Chrollo's office.

Creeping up towards his room, I step in silently, but enough for him to know of my being, and I walk through his man made maze of literature and ink, stapled onto ancient pages of history, love, and fiction. His home it seemed. He looked up but I only walked closer, the orange array of light sounding against the statues of books and on my hands as I brushed them against the covers as I made my way to the little clearing where he sat. I pick up one book with a new title I never saw or read before and sat in front of him. I could feel his eyes staring at me intently, but with a satisfaction. An invitation.

"Fallen Down," I said plainly.

"Hm?" He hummed in question, deep throated from the late nights and long day we had. His voice was stressed out of his mouth.

"Fallen Down, it's what's playing?" I said, providing more detail and turning the book over in my hand and admiring the dark green cloth bound sack of words. It was dull around the edges, dusted over, and the black font barely making itself visible, and from the now flickering flame I made out the words, The Chronicles of David Farwell: The Beginnings.

"Oh," he replied.

I breathed a laugh in return, saying, "Fog, that's playing now,"

"Do you listen to this genre of music?" He asked the rustle of pages coming to a stop, and a thump from his book ending the world of imagination in his head, drawing his attention strictly to me.

"Yes, as a child I always did,"

"Tell me about it if you might?"

"No,"

"Then read with me?"

"Sure,"

I didn't look up once, probably afraid, but we read together. Moments of silence passed with the surrounding movement of instruments coming from a stolen record player, before I decide to confess the truth behind this playing of music.

"This calms everyone, you know?" I stated, putting my book down on my crossed legs.

"That's exactly why I play it, (y/n), I noticed it too, but what does it do to you?" He asked, his gaze boring into me once again, but I dared not to look up.

It took me a while to respond, he knows this too, so he waited. He waited for as long as it took for me to muster a sentence.

"Yeah,"

"I believe that wasn't an answer rather than a statement,"

"Home," I said finally.

"Please explain, your choice of words make me curious, you know that, (y/n)?"

"Their reactions are calming, the music is what feels like home, being here with this new, uh, how do I say it?" I struggle for once to come up with a foreign name for the feeling I felt.

"Family?" Chrollo says out of the blue, it made me look up at him for the first time in a while. It caught me by surprise, and what also did was his expressions.

"Maybe," I reply looking down reading my book once again.

"I told you, that's what we are, welcome to the Troupe," he said, stating my permanence.

"Yeah,"

That was the end of our conversation that night. But I had thought about the word he used. He said family, but I never knew what it felt like. I only knew what it felt like to be used, but this was what a family felt like. Not by blood, god no, but by bond.

But the feeling I felt by being engrossed in pages of relentless chronicles of a certain man's life, and made up adventures made me realize I felt wanted here. The feeling I felt was want. They wanted me there. They wanted me here not in a way to be used, but as a certain way words can't describe. That night taught me of family, the unknown feeling of 'want', and home. This was home to me. I had found my home, and I still do three weeks later.

Finally...

AHH SORRY IT TOOK LONG I WAS DEALING WITH SOME MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES BUT I HOPE THIS IS OKAY!! 

TAKE CARE AND ENJOY FOLLOWING CHAPTERS.

\(^.^)/