Rest (Ghost Au)

Chapter 2

The sound of laughter and bickering broke the calm and silent atmosphere around the house. "I found it!" A familiar voice yelled.

"Oh god, it's those kids again," Wilbur floated through the wall of his bedroom, down the floor, and into the living room where Phil and Techno were watching the two teenagers enter the house.

"So, what did you bring?" The blonde—who, from what they learned from their conversation yesterday, was named Tommy—asked.

"I got brooms." Tubbo held up the two brooms in his hand. "I got a couple of rags in my bag, dusters, rubbish bags, and I nabbed our portable vacuum cleaner."

"Oh. Cool. I brought a bucket." Tommy raised the blue bucket he was holding.

Wilbur huffed out a laugh as Tubbo stared at Tommy for a second.

"I brought all this, and you got a shitty bucket?" Tubbo made a face. "Why?"

"I dunno? I thought it would be funny."

Wilbur shook his head which held a smile. "So, Tech, wanna scared the shit out of these kids?"

Technoblade crossed his arms, thinking. "Yeah, we could do that, but think about this Wilbur," he said with his usual monotonous tone. "Child Labor."

"What? No!" Phil scolded both of them.

"Oh come on Phil," Techno started. "This place haven't been cleaned for three years."

"We'll let them clean the house 'til it's spotless, and once they're comfortable, we haunt them!"

Phil stared at the two who had mischievous glints in their eyes. He sighed, giving into their antics. "Fine."

"Yes!"

"Woo."

So they watched them. Wilbur followed around the blonde kid, while Techno followed around the short one. Phil went to do his own thing, but he said he'd be checking in every now and then. 

Tommy watched Tubbo grab a broom, as well as a duster, a rag, and rubbish bag from his rucksack. "You go clean upstairs." Tubbo rushed to the kitchen, hearing a string of protests from Tommy. 

Of course, he was ignored. Tommy ruffled his hair in irritation before grabbing his own cleaning supplies and heading up the stairs. He ended up in front of a bedroom located at the end of the hall. It had a white door, a pretty standard color. "Wilbur's Room," Tommy read the plaque out loud. He opened the door and was greeted by falling dust making him cough. 

Tommy groaned. "Should have brought masks." He dug through his pockets and found his red bandana. Tying it around his head, covering his nose and mouth, he started cleaning. He dusted the walls first, the dust, as well as cobwebs ended up on he floor. "God, this is gonna take forever." He grimaced at the amount of musical items, guitars to be precise, that filled the room.

Wilbur floated on top of his old bed as he watched the teen, who was now removing dust from his graduation picture that was hung on his wall, in amusement. He heard Tommy huff out a laugh. "This guy looks like a dork," Tommy said to himself.  

Wilbur could feel his eye twitch, annoyed with the comment. "A dork huh?" He floated towards the half open door. He concentrated energy on his hand making it slightly tangible. He pulled the door back and slammed it close. Wilbur laughed as Tommy practically sprung up with a loud yelp. 

Downstairs, Tubbo yelled, "Tommy! Don't go slamming the doors! They're delicate!" Only to get a "It wasn't me!" as a reply. Tubbo shook his head and returned to what he was doing. He placed the expired milk inside the rubbish bag before grabbing another container.