Sora dreaded walking up to the front door to his house.

I wonder if mom is home. I haven't seen her since…

His thoughts trailed off as he neared the steps. The house was dark and seemingly desolate. Goofy and Donald waited by the mailbox, exchanging nervous glances with each other. Sora flashed them a fake smile as he placed his hand on the doorknob. It didn't surprise him to see that the door was locked.

With a flick of the keyblade, he was able to unlock it. Sora gulped and hesitated before stepping into the house. What would happen when he goes through that door? He sent his comrades another glance, but this time it was filled with anxiety. He has faced many different foes, but none were more terrifying than the person he was about to meet.

I probably should have visited her when I came back, but I was too afraid.

Sora stepped into the quiet home, leaving the door ajar behind him. The smell of chicken in the oven made his stomach grumble and his mouth water. Mom must have made dinner. He thought to himself as he took a few steps forward. White sheets covered the leather couches. The hands on the grandfather clock didn't move like they did before. Family pictures were not hanging on the wall anymore.

Sora's gut told him that something was definitely wrong.

The kitchen floor creaked, and weeping sounds were heard. Sora came to a halt. His heart ached; he knew exactly who those cries belonged to.

"M-Mom?" he choked out.

The house turned silent, but it was louder than ever before. Sora didn't want to face her any longer. He didn't think he could take it.

Mom, I know I hurt you by going away for so long. I know you've been waiting for me. Please, just wait a little longer, will you?

Sora hurried to the door, but stopped as soon as he heard that desperate voice.

"Son?"

He shut his eyes, hoping that she didn't say anything else. She inched closer, the disbelief apparent on her grief-stricken face. Sora's fists balled up as he gathered the courage to turn around. Nothing could prepare him for a moment like this—the mother that he abandoned so long ago.

"I-I'm sorry, mom," was all he could say. Her mouth gaped open at the sight of him.

"I-Is that really you?"

Sora hung his head in shame. "Yeah, it's me."

"You… never came to dinner."

Sora was slightly thrown off by her words. All he could think to do was apologize over and over again. His mother came closer, putting her hand out to touch him, but she never quite did. Although she was right here, although she was right in front of his face, he had never felt farther away. His eyes watered as he turned his head away.

"Please, come sit at the table," she said, urging him to follow her into the kitchen. "Dinner is ready."

Sora went along with it, because he didn't know what else to do. He'd sit down, eat with her, and that would be that.

Right?

The table was the most extravagant piece in the house. His mother would always go out of her way to make dinner the best meal of the day.

I did miss that. Nothing compared to my mom's cooking. Sora pondered as he took a seat at the table. Although it should have felt familiar to him, he has never felt more out of place. Something was amiss; something unspoken. He didn't look up at her as she prepared a plate for him; he just stared at the green tablecloth beneath him and readied his napkin in his lap. The least he could do was show that he still practiced the manners that she instilled in him.

"I made your favorite, son. Honey glazed chicken with pepper, along with buttered mashed potatoes and bean sprouts."

She must be putting on a front. I thought she would be happier to see me, but I guess it's been so long that she forgot how. She couldn't even touch me. Geeze, I'm the worst son ever.

"T-Thanks, mom."

Sora wondered what Donald and Goofy were thinking right now. They knew that this was important, and he probably should have told them to just go ahead and go, but he didn't think he would have been able to go through with this. As he sat at the table, anxiously awaiting the food that his mother prepared so heartily, his nerves began to shake his consciousness.

"I've made the same thing every day for the past three and a half years, hoping that maybe, one day, you'll come down and join me," his mother said as she brought his plate to the table and set it in front of him. It was exactly how he remembered it; the chicken cut into little squares and his Brussel sprouts on a separate plate. He didn't feel the need to mention that he was eighteen now, he was sure she had been counting the days.

"Thank you."

She pulled up a chair and sat across from him. Sora took the first bite; his taste buds tingling. It hadn't changed since the last time he had it; the night before he left Destiny Islands and started his adventure. A tear rolled down his cheek as he swallowed.

"Do you like it?" she asked, resting her chin on her hands as she watched him.

"Y-Yeah. It's good… like always." Sora continued to eat, trying to block the onset of tears, but failing.

"Tell me how the mashed potatoes are."

Without a word, Sora scooped some onto his fork and ate it. The buttery flavor was just right, and he found himself having a harder time washing it down as his emotions got the better of him.

"They're great. It's all… great…"

"I'm glad."

Sora's hand wobbled as he reached for the glass of water. His eyes were giving out on him, and he was having trouble focusing on one thing at a time. The fork missed his mouth at first, but eventually, he was able to finish the last of the chicken.

"I'm so glad that you're home, Sora. At least stay for breakfast?"

"Y-Yeah," he answered wearily, taking a moment to rub his eyes and let out a yawn. "I don't think I can go anywhere feeling like this…"

"Aww, what's wrong, honey?"

"I… I don't know, I just feel… sleepy. Like, I could pass out any moment."

His vision blurred as he dropped his fork on the table. He tried shaking himself out of it, but the wooziness only continued.

"Want some more, sweetie? There's plenty left."

"N-No, that's okay," he mumbled as he lay his head down and shut his eyes. "Thank… thank you…"

He was out.

His mother leaned over him to make sure he was asleep, then dragged him up the stairs and set him into his neatly made bed. She placed a glass of water on his nightstand so that he'll have something to drink when he woke up.

Before she left, she sprinkled some white powder into the drink.

"Goodnight, my son. You'll never leave me again."

o-o-o
o-o-o