𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 [𝖙•𝖘] [𝖎𝖒 - 𝖊𝖓𝖌]

⁴¹. 𝐹𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑉𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑠

📍BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS
───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰ ───

She had to do this. She had to lose whatever was holding her back and move forward. She wouldn't be able to do so if she didn't do this. Years had gone by, agonizing and eternal years, yet (Y/N) lost count of all that time. She stared at the wooden door in front of her and internally hyped herself up time and time again in order to knock on it.

(Y/N) didn't remove her gaze from the door, ignoring the wind that blew through her jacket every now and then. The wind chimes dangling from the roof of the porch were tempting her, as if doubting she'd take another step further with their melodies in the background. The plaque plastered beside the doorframe was staring at her, and she was staring right back. The letters spelling out Vaughn Family were dirty and rusted, yet they were still readable.

(Y/N) inhaled a sharp breath and let go, cracking her knuckles and muttering a short 'let's do this' under her breath to to hype herself up. With a raised hand, she knocked on the door with a rhythm before pulling back, waiting for any type of response. She hoped someone at least would open the door; there was a car parked right in the driveway, so that meant someone was inside.

The clicking sound of a lock alerted her, and she looked up just in time to see a woman open the door all the way through. The sight of the woman made (Y/N) freeze in her spot. She was slightly identical to her, though there were grey streaks on the woman's hair and lines of old in her skin.

"Sorry, we don't want any of your cookies," the woman firstly said, her gaze distracted on something behind the door. When she didn't receive any answer to her words, she grew annoyed, still a bit distracted. "Can I help you?"

(Y/N) didn't know what to say, so she cleared her throat in response. The woman was finally able to look up, and when she did, she turned into a statue. Her eyes widened like saucers, her jaw almost hit the floor and all color had flushed from her face. The elderly woman could only gasp and reach out for her dangling glasses resting on her chest to get a clearer image of the person in front of her.

"(Y/N)?" the woman cried out, bony hands shaking. "Is that really you?"

(Y/N) gulped down her nerves and nodded. "Yes, Mom. It's me."

The woman let out a strangled noise between a laugh of relief and a sob, her shaking hands reaching out to grasp onto her daughter. (Y/N) allowed the woman to embrace her, cringing when the grip got too tight, though she partly enjoyed being hugged by her mother again.

"I — I can't believe it," the woman said, grasping onto her daughter's clothes. "It's been so long, I — "

"I know, mom," (Y/N) apologized, smoothing a hand up and down her back. "I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner."