There was something in the air that just made me down right miserable. Maybe it was the chilling cold leaking through the old car doors, maybe it was the bland greenish-grey of the all too familiar scenery or maybe it was just me. Either way, it was a combination of all of them and I was downright miserable. I pouted and glared out of the window, immaturely bemoaning my fate when really, I had no one else to blame but myself. I had started this mess seven years ago and had run away from it. To be honest, I was okay with running but Dustin insisted that the time for running was over and it was time to go home.

They say that home is where the heart is and by that, I interpret it as my physical heart. We could have moved anywhere in the country to start over again, anywhere I tell you, and where did Dustin have to pick? Where, I ask you? To the place where this cluster-fuck of my life began and ended, moving back to pick up the pieces.

"Stop pouting out the window like that, you're twenty four for God's sake." I heard from the drivers' seat. I glared back over at him, almost twenty eight and having given up his life for me when it had all gone to hell. Did I have a right to be this mad at him? No, not at all. But in my irrationality, that mattered little.

"Hey, I think I'm allowed to be a little moody here Dustin; after all, out of all the places you could have chosen to stop running, you had to pick fucking Sherwood."

"What's the point of stopping running if we don't go back to fix things? Look, I know why you're so scared to go back, I really do. But nothing will change if we don't. We both need to do this to move on with our lives. Besides, you don't know what will happen when we get there. Everything could work out better than expected."

"Oh, sure, I guess so."

"There you go!"

"And maybe we can all live in a gum drop castle and ride unicorns around town; I shall call mine Sunny Muffins."

"Just a regular ray of motherfucking sunshine, aren't you?"

"Yep, that's me."

The car lapsed back into tense silence again as Dustin went back to silently steering and I went back to moodily leering. I hated fighting with him, I really did, but I felt like he had pushed me into something I just wasn't ready for yet, or that I'd ever be ready to face. How does one face a past that they scampered half way across the country to escape like a thief in the night?

XoxoxoxoX

Two hours later, we were driving through a town that seemed frozen in time. Had the houses always been so small? Had the atmosphere been so still that the slightest sound and movement could disturb it? How was it possible for nothing to have changed at all in those seven long years? How, I ask you?

The street looked the same, the house in all its stoic silent glory, was the same. Even the tree in the yard didn't seem to have lost any of the marks of a childhood long since gone and forgotten. We took a moment to sit in the driveway, just staring, almost afraid and reverent in the presence of our old home, filled with too many memories to count, both good and bad. As always, Dustin was the first to break the silence.

"We should start unpacking. It'll be dark soon; there will probably be snow too."

I just nodded numbly, so not ready for this. "Okay."

Just opening the faded red door was a monumental feat in itself, almost choking on the sweet smell of familiar retreat, of the once safe haven we had called home. The movers had gotten here a few days before us and I could see from a quick glance that most of the larger furniture had been set up. It still looked too bare, devoid of pictures, colour, anything that would make this house resemble anything like the home it had once been.

The hours ticked by, box after box was unloaded. Clothes piled and hung neatly, beds made, everything but the kitchen sink placed in its rightful spot. Pictures were hung on walls and I found myself planning new colours for the house, to brighten it up. It still didn't mean I was enthused to be here. Minnesota seemed pretty dull after the bright lights and loud noises of California.

By the time the last box was unloaded, a flurry of snow had begun to descend from the sky and I cursed my inappropriate wardrobe for not containing enough warm sweaters or scarves. You didn't need a big jacket in L.A.; clearly we'd been gone too long. The furnace, while ancient, still worked well enough to quickly heat the house and it finally felt as if it had some life to it. I still wasn't enthused to be here.

After a hearty dinner of microwave pasta and packet salads, we collapsed onto the sofa in front of the television exhausted both physically and emotionally. Neither of us had the strength to enter their room, which had been empty for nine years now, nine long silent years. We sat staring blindly at some sitcom or other when Dustin felt the need to break the silence again.

"You know we have to see him tomorrow right? We can't avoid him, besides he knows we're back in town."

I sighed deeply, pinching the bridge between my eyes. "Don't remind me."

"You know I'm right though. When I called last week, he said he'd have some work for us at the shop and café. We need the money again, at least until we can find something more permanent."

"He'll probably expect us to be on our knees thanking him for his kind charity." I muttered bitterly.

"Come on! I know uncle Gus can be a little bit, well, a little agitated and obnoxious at times but he's the only family he has left and Kelly told me he's actually been excited to see us again."

Despite my dark mood, I smiled a little. Only a little. "Is that so?"

"Yeah, so that is. Look, don't worry about things so much." He extended his arm over my shoulders and pulled me into a hug. "I promise everything will be okay. Have I ever lied to you before?"

"I dunno what goes on in your head."

"Lydia!"

"Fine; no Dustin, you've never lied to me. Not even once." Because out of all the uncertainties, the drama and the pain that had transgressed, Dustin had always been there and he had never lied to me. Not even once.

Although sometimes, I wish he had.