MCR Imagines And Oneshots

🎃^Halloween Special | R.T.

(A/n)

Frank's special is already out in the other book in case y'all haven't read it yet!

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I'm so stupid, sometimes I get afraid of my own stories, my mind goes too far, I---

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"That vase... looks better there," I point to the left side of the shelf thoughtfully. Ray mutters something and, after following my suggestion, shoots me a questioning look. I nod. "Yeah, fine. I guess we're done over here, aren't we?" The words escape my lips through a breath while wipe the sweat away from my forehead with the back of my forearm.

"Now it's just the bookshelf," Ray says with a nod, sighing as walking to across the room, legs noticeably tired from all the crouching down, standing up and stepping on stools. "She said by alphabetical order, right?" He asks as looking at all the books on the ground, partially organized in piles, hands on hips. Another tired sigh comes from him.

Humming in agreement, I move over to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek in a poor attempt of making him feel better after all these hours we spent working. He smiles at me, seeming to appreciate it as I move to retie his hair into a bun since it ended up getting messy through the time.

There's a movement, like if someone is walking down the hallway and just passed by the doorway. Ray and I share a look, confused.

"Did you hear the front door opening?" I ask Ray, unsure, letting go of his hair.

"No..." He says, his eyes averting from the doorway to me, eyebrows furrowed. "But, I mean, the house's pretty big... Right?" He asks a bit awkward, both of us sharing the same nervousness.

It all started in the middle of the year, when we decided to start gathering money to get the hell out of the city and at least move to the neighbor city and try our luck in Gerard's band. This city is honestly so small I don't even know if it should be considered one. It's completely surrounded by woods and there's only a main street which holds the entire commerce and culture of the place while each house is really far from each other.

No one usually moves to here, what results in the local population having its characteristic features shared among everyone and a lot of old people. It seems like there's some unsaid secret shared among everyone, a mystery hovering in the low clouds that are often covering the top of the mountains that surround the city. An awful vibe.

In order of gaining the said money, Ray and I decided to do something apart from our job in the music shop in which we spend most of the time, but we barely sell anything in a full day of work, what unfairly earns us scolding from the owner of the place. We actually just do whatever people need in a house - working on the garden, organizing rooms, cleaning or whatever asides from hard work.

Yesterday we received a letter from a said Mrs. Tomaszewski we had barely heard about before, wanting us to organize a few rooms and promising a really good amount of money - a messy writing in ink on an old letter paper with roses printed in the corners, a rich roses' smell coming from it, making us already presume it was one of these rich, fancy old ladies. Our presumptions were confirmed and we had our mouths hanging open when being face to face with the house signed by the address; something that seems to be pulled right out of a classic Victorian book.

The house actually resembles us from Gerard's, with all the sigils and crystals laying around and many plants, mainly succulents and ferns while there are also some herbs planted in the back garden. However, the Tomaszewski house is actually much bigger and fancier.

Mrs. Tomaszewski lives alone - almost a waste to such a big and beautiful house, almost mansion - and had told us she'd not be home during the day, but wrote in the letter about where the spare key to the front door would be and that we can fix ourselves something in the kitchen if we get hungry. Actually, sounds like a sweet person.