Creeps And Weirdos | Various JJBA X Fem!Reader

9| Easter Island

Sunrise is when all the ghoulish things go back to their shadowed crack in the wall, dive into their wells and return to their coffins. Sunrise is when you pay a visit to Risotto.

There is an hour to discuss what you have found.

Halloween Town is asleep, quiet and murmuring. In the deep of Reimi's slumber, you creep along the floor with careful steps, holding a tight face as you anticipate a giving squeak. 

Creak. the floorboards whine with the weight, and your entire body tightens. Your head whips around to look at her back on the lab chair-- she's still curled up in a circle, her mechanisms and gears ticking softly. Good... She doesn't need to know you're sneaking off again. You'll be back before she even wakes up. 

Risotto needs to know about this. Maybe he already does-- that begs your curiosity further, how much would he know?

The town is thin with passerby, most who do not assume your presence as you slink between shadows deliberately to avoid being seen. Someone, you think, notices your tiptoe, a ghoul with haunting yellow eyes and hung purple hair, a banshee, but he says nothing as you speed away.

You arrive to town center beating on Risotto's crooked door like you intended to break it. The very minute it opens you fall inside bleeding information like a sponge, only halfway greeting the king of Halloween in your rambling, who looked onward with a blatant disinterest. 

You immediately dive into the guest chair opposite from his desk, adjusting yourself repeatedly, never quite finding a comfortable position in your excitment, as he drags himself to his own chair with an obvious exhaustion.

"--And the sky was just flooded with these clouds, and you could fall through some and other were completely solid! And the rose that I saw, there were gardens of them, at this cupids place- Valentine! He saved me, I almost died having fallen so far, maybe-"

He held a hand up and silenced you, his rotten fingers with skeletal detail catching your words.

"There isn't such a thing as any doors, in any of our woods. You need to stop pulling stunts for attention. You're lucky you haven't been put back under lock again."

What?

"But— "

That was that. The door slams in your face, and you're standing frozen outside of the Halloween Kings house, not sure of anything to do besides wallow in your frustration. He had kicked you out. Valentine was not real, he says, and similarly so was nothing else you had experienced. 

Maybe in your delusion, produced by the poisonous need for companionship, you dream up a world where you were wanted. That was a theory, one of the many he suggested as he hurried you outside.

Your rubber soles kick up the leaves, always dead no matter the season, and aroused the air with a disturbed frustration. 

Valentine was real, so was his world. So was the rose- 

A sudden thought apprehends you: If you can bring him a rose, any of its kind, beautiful and bloomed with that enchanting dew, Risotto has to believe you. You begin your trek to the woods in a dizzy hurry, some thoughts concerned, what if the doors weren't there? Such deliberations motivated your speed.

The air hung sparse, though the woods left plenty of space to breathe between its skinny trees you found it impossible to take a proper breath. The several hulking trunks you recall faced you with their aged doors. 

After nearly eating dirt from tripping on a branch, you stumble forward to the door cut like a heart, and you ripple with this electric shock of relief and reach for the doorknob.