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

Act 1, Chapter 6

When you were finished with the bookshelves you wanted to wash the table that was in the middle of the room but the box was on it.

"God, why is it in the way all the time?" you cursed the poor thing, who couldn't help that you put it there.

You had to lift the box off the table before you could wipe the table, the box found its temporary place on the stool that belonged to the antique desk.

By wiping the table you finished wiping the top floor so you stepped out of the room, you grabbed the bucket by the handle and carried it out with you.

The black ring that marked the entrance to the attic jumped inside your view.

It almost felt taunting that you were so upset about this stupid box and the solution to this problem was only too happy to offer itself to you, the solution so obvious that it almost stuck its tongue out at you.

You just couldn't get around the attic.

Sure, you could also squeeze the box into the closet, but even then it was only a matter of time before it got on your nerves.

You didn't want to put it in the basement or the guest room either, because it just didn't belong there.

The items in the box belonged to your great aunt, after all, and even if you didn't really remember her, you should at least show respect to her belongings, it was the least you could do.

When your mother told you two weeks ago that her aunt had died, she called her by her name but you had no idea who she was talking about.

It wasn't until she told you a little bit about her that small scraps of memory came together to form a somewhat blurred face.

Now you at least had a face to go with the name, and the information that someone in your family you used to be in good contact with had died was enough to make your heart clench a bit.

But along with the bad news, your mother also gave you good news.

"She bought a house with her husband a long time ago, shortly after I was born. It's an hour and a half from here, but we're next of kin, so her possessions will be left to us, which is apparently what she asked for in her will," she explained.

You sat together with your mom on your bed.

"And what are you doing with the house, are you selling it?" you had asked

An image appeared in your mind of a small yellow house in the city.

Your mother put her hand on yours before she looked you in the eye intently and continued.

"Your father and I figured you could have it if you want."

You were immediately overcome with joy when she said that, even if that feeling felt a bit out of place.

And now that you were here, standing where your great-aunt must have stood before, you felt sorry for her.

It must have been so terribly lonely in that big house, especially for an old woman whose husband couldn't live with her even if he wanted to.