September 13th 2014

It'd been three days since he'd heard the news and he was still nauseous. He had called the institution, but all they could tell him was that it'd been unexpected. Aside from her mental illness, his mother had been healthy. No one had thought her heart would just stop. All that was left to do was bury the dead.

Initially, Roxas wanted nothing to do with the task. Even as an adult, there was a part of him that was still a child hiding underneath his bed. A child who saw the boogeyman not in his closet, but in his mother. Despite all of this, his therapist insisted it would be good for him. It'd give him a sense of closure. He could forgive if he wanted to. He could cry for himself, or his mother, or for both. According to his therapist, attending the funeral would make her death a reality. It was another step in his recovery and reconciliation.

Eventually he agreed, but he refused to go by himself.

September 15th 2014

"I'm so sorry, Roxas. "

In front of the train station, a petite blonde wrapped her arms around him in an embrace. Five years his senior, Namine had been a volunteer when he first arrived at the hospital. Her mother had worked as a clown and offered children a distraction from their illnesses. Namine, on the other hand, was much too reserved to be a clown, but she enjoyed reading stories to the children. Sometimes the hospital would even allow her to do face-painting for the kids. It was by her own morbid curiosity, of the boy who almost died in the name of God, that she met Roxas. All that time had passed, but they were still friends. Brother and sister, even.

"I'm glad you came, Namine. It means a lot to me, y'know?"

They embraced for a few seconds more before they walked into the train station to board the train.

For the first few hours, Namine and him spoke with a care-free nature. Namine told him about some guy she'd met at an art gallery named Riku. She described Riku as a living piece of art-work and as a joke, Roxas asked her; Abstract or Surrealism? She laughed and he told her about Mimi trying to hook him up with granddaughter. That he didn't have the heart to tell the old woman he was gay. When shooting the shit got boring, Roxas started making up stories about the passengers based on their looks. Old ladies in faux-fur that sniffed glue and used their priceless pearls as anal beads. Shit that didn't make sense, but made them laugh at their own morbid assertions.

Eventually, the sun dwindled and Namine fell asleep on his shoulder, leaving Roxas to watch the rain stream down the windows in hopes of staying awake.

- Dream Sequence -

Roxas was in the middle of brushing his teeth when he heard the faint sound of grease crackling in a pan. Spitting into the sink, he paused in his movements to recall if Namine had spent the night, or worse yet, he'd accidentally brought home an overly clingy one-night stand. When he couldn't recall the events of the night, he stepped outside of the bathroom and looked down the dimly lit hall, "Namine?"

He waited for a moment for a response, but only heard the sound of the sink-faucet running alone with the clanking of silverware. Confident that a burglar, or murderer, wouldn't bother to cook breakfast, he assumed it was Namine and walked towards the kitchen.

Upon entering the kitchen, he was greeted with nothing. The kitchen was untouched and as far as he could tell, no one was in his apartment. As if waiting for the punch-line to a joke, he stood in the kitchen for several moments before turning to go back to his bathroom. However, there was no bathroom to go back to.

His apartment had seemingly opened to an old and nearly dilapidated church. Several people were scattered in the pews and he could hear the various whispers of a muffled prayer. In front of him was a large altar with both familiar and unfamiliar religious icons. Aside from a few candles scattered along t window sills, the only light source came from the large altar in front of him. What seemed like thousands of candles bounced of statues of the religious icons, creating ghostly shadows. In the center of the altar was a monstrous sculpture of the crucifixion, and below that, was the Virgin Mary with outstretched arms.

"What is this?"

No one acknowledged his existence, let alone offer him an answer. He swallowed hard and was about to take a step toward the altar when he felt pressure in his nose followed by a copper taste on his lips. Touching his finger-tips to his nose he glanced at the blood on his fingers. Lifting his gaze slowly, all of the occupants who had acted as if here were invisible, were now staring at him.

- End of Dream -

By the time they'd arrived in Redford, Minnesota, the rain had transitioned into light snow. Roxas could see that Namine was excited, brimming with questions about his home town, but she kept them sealed up. Roxas was thankful for that, at least. Roxas didn't allow himself to take in the scenery, to soak in both the familiar and unfamiliarity of ten years. He was nervous, so he kept himself distracted until they were at the hotel.

As they unpacked, Roxas considered how childish he was probably behaving over this funeral. After all, his mother was dead and that was it. There was nothing beyond death, despite all his mother had tried to teach him. No good. No evil. The funeral would be tomorrow and he needed a distraction.

"You hungry? I know a diner nearby here. Well, if it's still there, that is."

"Are you sure?"

Roxas shrugged, chuckling mostly to himself, "Well, it's probably better than eating stale Doritos out of the vending machine, Right?" Namine merely giggled in response.

By the time they left, the snow was falling harder and begun to stick. The deeper they drove into town, the more Roxas begun to open up about his past. He spoke in animated fashion about the places he went as a kid, the ice-cream parlor that used to be on the corner but had been replaced with a grocery store, and the one time he'd broken his arm from falling out of a tree.

The stories continued as they walked into the diner, one about the annual harvest festival and another about catching salamanders in the brook behind his house. Soon the stories hushed, switching over to more current things so that any old-timers wouldn't associate him with the town. After the waitress took their order, Namine talked about the art gallery she would be featured in in a couple of months. A surprise she wanted to tell him after the funeral, but figured now was better than ever. In her usual humble fashion, she asserted it was just a small gig and nothing too exciting, but Roxas was excited for her.

Somewhere in their conversations, Roxas began to tune her out. A table a few booths down was grabbing his attention. About five people were sitting, chatting, and being fairly rambunctious. From what Roxas could see, the ages varied but what caught his attention, were vibrant green eyes. They belonged to a red-head who looked tall even sitting down. His red-hair was tied back and while Roxas was horrible at matching faces with ages, he assumed he was probably in his late twenties. He was smirking at a blonde with a strange mullet. All teeth, straight and white. Sharp jawline and strange tear drops on his cheeks. If it weren't for his vibrant hair and eyes, he'd be plain and dull. Another face in a crowd, but those eyes were haunting. Terrifying, even. Roxas was seriously wondering where he'd picked up all of these notions of fear. He was staring openly and blatantly, transfixed until those green eyes locked straight onto his blue-ones.

"Oh my god, Roxas! You're bleeding!"

Roxas looked back at Namine, eye-brows crinkling in confusion. Then he tasted the copper in his mouth. Out of instinct, he wiped the back of his hand against his nose, staring at the blood smeared on his skin. Out of embarrassment and not wanting to cause a scene, he stood quickly and walked to the bathroom. The table of strangers and green-eyes were forgotten.

"Fuck."

Roxas cursed, cleaning his face off in the bathroom. He reached for a tissue to stop the bleeding, but with his face washed, it appeared his nose had stopped bleeding. Not entirely convinced, he held the tissue to his nose as he checked to make sure the blood hadn't stained his clothes. He assumed it wasn't a big deal, most likely caused by his change in medication. So after composing himself, he brushed his fingers through his hair before stepping out into the diner.

He smiled nervously at Namine and the concerned waitress who was delivering their food. He cleared his throat, looking straight ahead as he walked back to the table and sat with Namine. He reassured her that he was fine and in order to move past the awkward scene, he talked about his childhood. The good parts, at least.

The funeral had been dreary at best. As anticipated, no one had showed up. Roxas was relieved, he'd never met his family outside of his mother and only had heard stories of his father. He didn't think a funeral would be the best time for an introduction. Once again, the snow was falling heavily and a thin layer had already begun to coat the roads. Admittedly, Roxas was more concerned about getting the rental car back to the hotel in one piece, then what was going on in front of him.

Truth be told, his therapist had been right. A heavy burden had been lifted after watching his mother's casket being lowered into the ground. There was no forgiving or tears shed, but he felt better about his past. Smiling gently at Namine, he gave her a nod to signal that he was finished before walking away from the grave. He'd seen everything he needed to see, there was no point in sticking around any longer than that.

"Thanks for coming with me. I don't know what I would do without you, Namine." An affectionate smile was shared between the two before they briefly discussed their plans for the remainder of the evening.

"Hey, is that one of your relatives?"

Namine knocked elbows with Roxas before gesturing towards the rental car where a middle-aged man was leaning against their vehicle. He didn't seem to notice the duo at first, but when he did, he pushed off the car and looked at Roxas with a broad smile.

"I apologize for the impromptu visit and the inappropriate timing, but there are some important legal matters we must discuss, Roxas." As the man spoke, he walked to meet the duo half-way, extending a hand towards Roxas who hesitantly shook it.

"I'm sorry, but who exactly are you? And what legal matters?"

"Ah, I apologize. I'm Luxord and I was your mother's lawyer. Given the circumstances, I wasn't sure how long you'd be in town for or how to contact you. I'm here to discuss your mother's will with you, Roxas. I understand that your relationship wasn't the best, but are you aware that she's left everything to you?"

They had left in a hurry, it was probably the first time Roxas had ever snapped at Namine. Warning her not to speak about Luxord or the will. Understandably, she was irritated and their remaining night at the hotel had been in complete silence.

"Look, Roxas, I'm just saying you should think about it."

Roxas sighed heavily, staring out the window of the train as they made their way back to Grassvale, Minnesota. He was biting his nails out of anxious habit. He spent a few more seconds in silence before looking at Namine, "You don't get it, Namine. Everything bad that has ever happened to me, happened in that house. If I sell it, it's out of my life. I don't want anything to do with, get it?"

Namine frowned, shifting awkwardly in her seat, "I know, Roxas. Look, all I'm saying is don't make any brash decisions, y'know? Talk it over with your therapist. Even if you don't keep it, it could be good for you to see."

After that, the conversations were spare. It was understood that Roxas wasn't angry at her, but that he need his space. He needed to think. A stranger he'd never met before, had just walked in and told him his mother not only left him his childhood home, but everything in it. He couldn't even fathom how she'd managed to keep it over the last ten years, or who had been taking care of it, if at all.

To lighten the mood, he told Namine a story about how the balding man a few aisles down was secretly a member of a cult.

Once home, things resumed as usual. Despite Roxas' assertion that he wanted the house sold, Luxord insisted on giving Roxas fourteen days to make his final decision. Roxas maintained his decision to sell everything. No priceless item or family heirloom was going to make him change his mind.

On day seven, he came home to find an eviction notice on his apartment door.