MCR Imagines And Oneshots

🎃^Halloween Special | M.W.

There is that mirror, in one of the empty rooms upstairs, covered by a while cloth. No longer than two feet and half. It's got a black glass and a beautiful frame that matches the rest of the house's aesthetic incredibly well and looks like something Gerard would have hanging on our living room's wall, but it never leaves its place, for some reason. Mikey and I questioned him about it a few times, receiving vague answers while Gerard just shrugged it off, never demonstrating interest towards the mirror, so Mikey and I didn't either.

That until recently.

Among all the old and new witchcraft books scattered around the house, Mikey ended up finding a particular one with a piece of paper inside it. The edges are already yellow, brownish, surrounding a messy handwriting in what is probably ink – in a side of the page, part of a drawing of the mirror takes place, but the paper's no longer than two inches, the rest of it apparently ripped off long ago. The only legible words say don't look into the old mirror at night. You'll find more than your own reflection looking back at you, what, ironically or not, only makes Mikey and I want to find out its secret.

We did try to forget about it because, well, a creepy old note about a mirror that seems to be not older than a year? Something's certainly up with it. Even with us trying to bury the subject in the back of our minds, it crawls back out as the night falls and reminds us of it.

Mikey and I lie on the bed, comfortably cuddling each other under the warm covers, the room only illuminated by the moonlight slipping in between the curtains. His breath is slow against my neck, arms heavy but still pleasant as wrapped around me. It's not difficult knowing Mikey's not asleep, due to how tense he is under my touch.

"Are you thinking the same as me?" I ask, my voice just a breathy whisper cutting through the thick silence of the room.

"Of course," Mikey replies in the same tone, the soft sound of the covers moving after he shifts lightly sounding impossibly loud. I can feel his gaze on me and I look back, to where I presume to be his eyes. Then we nod, silently agreeing on the same thing.

Soon, we're guided down the dark hall by the flashlight of Mikey's phone, taking careful steps on the wooden tiles, cautious to not accidentally step on the creaky ones and wake Gerard up – or at least get his attention since he's often awake during the night. The knob is cold under my hand and it thankfully makes no sound while I turn it slowly then open the door, Mikey stepping in after me and illuminating around the room as I close the door behind us.

A wave of relief washes over us immediately when I turn the lights of the room on. It's more of a room where we keep everything that isn't useful anymore or just doesn't have a place for, almost the use we give to the attic, but we use what's in here more often. A box full of random items takes place in the corner of the room, along with a few old albums of photos sitting in an old piece of furniture we don't use anymore, among other things. The room feel more wistful than anything, just an irrelevant point of the house to which we gave the random use of keeping things before they're moved to the attic or used in specific occasions.

"What if it's something bad?" I ask Mikey nervously, but with my fingers itching to just drop the blanket to the floor already.

"You know the house's sealed up," Mikey says reassuringly, eyebrows raised in a reassuring manner. "No way there's some kind of bad entity in there because Gerard's always cleaning the house with all these sacred waters, burning leaves and sigils..." He trails off, seeming a bit lost for a moment. It's not that we don't understand about witchcraft – what's impossible when having Gerard around –, but our knowledge certainly doesn't go as deep as Gerard's.

"Fair point," I mutter thoughtfully, with the sensation that I'm doing something wrong continuing there, hammering against the back of my mind. I push it aside.