Armando's life continued as normal, his nights spent with Everett and his days spent with his friends or Georgina. But something was on his mind, gnawing at his mind. Memories would flood back in his dreams, only to shrink back as he awoke. Everett knew something was wrong and one night, in his arms, he confronted his partner.
"Armando, don't lie to me, I know something is up. You've been acting distant and odd for days...please talk to me..." Everett put a hand on his boyfriend's cheek, Armando leaning into his touch. He let out a sad sigh.
"My family...my home...things have been coming back to me...it's nothing really important..."
"It is important to you, so it's important to me...c'mon, maybe...maybe we can find your old home like we did with me. From what I've gathered, it's not that far from here. We can leave tonight." Armando looked shocked, smiling and kissing Everett's head.
"That sounds perfect...I have somewhere I called home out there and I'm going to find it..."
That night, the two packed a bag and left for the bus station, getting on and taking it through town, arriving at a dirty, dilapidated station. Something changed in Armando and he went quiet, walking and soon breaking into a run in one direction, leaving Everett to chase after him. He ran and ran until he came to a sign post, looking up at it. He took off down the street, Everett groaning and chasing him again. Armando looked at the houses in the dark around him, remembering being a child and running down these very streets. Then he stopped, leading to his boyfriend crashing into him.
"116 Alabaster Ave...this was it..."Armando stared with cold eyes at the building before him. The house was modern, painted eggshell white but something was off. The paint was peeling and the house was quiet. There was no car in the driveway and the door was hanging off it's rusty hinges, creaking in the wind. Armando walked up the stone steps to the porch and walked inside, Everett following close behind him. The boys took out flashlights and explored the home, Armando making a beeline for the stair. He carefully ascended, stepping a certain way to not make the stairs creak. He had done this before.
Armando turned the corner and crept into the far room, staring into it. The bedroom was in shambles. A dresser was tipped over, the bed was small and covered in dead leaves from the wide open window. Armando walked into the room, looking around, hearing the sound of broken glass under his feet. He looked down, seeing a photograph underfoot. In the photo was a younger Armando and a woman, smiling sweetly at the camera as Armando beamed.
"This was...my room...this was my home...this was my mother....
