The House of Albums | t.s.

Folklore's Ache part 3

Folklore paced the hallway, her heart pounding with a mixture of anxiety and anticipation. Her eyes never left the door at the right side of the corridor—the door that led to her sister's room.

Mother had made an announcement that stirred excitement throughout the House of Albums, but none of the other albums felt the same desperation that gnawed at Folklore's heart. The knowledge that her twin, Evermore, would soon join them had consumed her thoughts, making it impossible to focus on anything else.

Lover and RED had been great friends, offering support and encouragement whenever Folklore needed it. Lover, with her pastel pinks and blues, brought a sense of warmth and love, while RED, with her messy autumnal energy, provided a comforting sense of understanding.

But even their kindness couldn't ease the restless longing in Folklore's heart. Nothing could distract her from the yearning to be reunited with her sister.

In the past few days, Folklore had written countless letters for Evermore, slipping them under the door of her sister's room. Each letter was filled with words of encouragement, love, and anticipation, but she had received no reply.

Deep down, she knew Evermore couldn't respond—she was locked away in her room, waiting for the moment to emerge. But the silence still hurt, a constant reminder of the separation that felt unbearable.

As Folklore continued her frantic pacing, she suddenly bumped into RED, who had come to check on her. The collision nearly caused the younger album to spill the tea she had made, but she managed to steady herself just in time.

"RED! I'm so sorry," Folklore said quickly, her eyes darting back to her sister's old mahogany door. "I didn't mean to—"

RED waved off the apology, her expression softening as she saw the anxiety etched on the older album's face. "It's okay, Folklore. I just wanted to see how you're doing."

"I'm… I'm fine," Folklore replied, though her eyes betrayed her turmoil. "I just can't wait any longer. I need to see her." She had tried to bury herself in her fictional world that Mother had comprised her of but not even those perfectly crafted stories could capture her attention long enough to make the longing wane.

RED followed Folklore's gaze to the old mahogany door. "I understand," she said gently. "But she'll be here soon. You've waited this long—just a little while longer."

Folklore nodded, trying to take comfort in the shorter blonde's words, but the impatience inside her refused to be quelled. "I know. It's just… I don't want to miss the moment she arrives."

RED reached out, placing a reassuring hand on Folklore's arm. "You won't miss it—Mother loves introducing everyone. And when she does arrive, you'll be the first to welcome her."

Folklore offered a small, grateful smile. "Thank you, RED."

Meanwhile, on the other side of the door, Evermore sat at her old mahogany desk, a leather-bound journal open before her. The pages were filled with her thoughts, reflections on the wounds she often revisited in her mind. But now, as she wrote, she saw those wounds through wiser eyes—eyes that had learned to glean lessons from the pain.

Evermore's room was a sanctuary of warm, darker autumn colors, each shade carefully chosen to reflect the wisdom and changes that came with the season. Plaid-patterned materials draped over every surface, from the shirts and jackets hanging in her wardrobe to the blankets and duvet covers on her bed. Ivy crawled over the window, its deep green leaves a contrast to the earthy tones that filled the room. A bookshelf lined one wall, packed with vintage books and leather-bound journals that contained memories too painful to speak of, lessons learned from heartache, and thoughts she preferred to keep confined to those fading pages.

She knew her time to meet the others was drawing near, and with every word she penned, her anticipation grew. The thought of reuniting with Folklore filled her with a sense of longing that matched her sister's. She had read every letter Folklore had slipped under the door, treasuring each word even though she couldn't respond.

It pained her to be cut off from her twin, but she knew their reunion was only a matter of time. She believed the pain of parting would be nothing like the joy of reuniting.

Evermore closed her journal, running her fingers over the smooth leather cover. Soon, she would step out of her room and into the House of Albums, where Folklore waited with bated breath. The thought of finally being together again, of sharing their stories and experiences, brought a small, contented smile to her face.

She stood up, moving to the window where the ivy curled around the glass. The autumn colours outside mirrored the ones within her room, a reflection of the change and growth she had embraced. And as she gazed out at the changing leaves, she felt a deep sense of peace. Soon, she would see Folklore again, and together they would navigate this new chapter in their lives.

For now, all she could do was wait, just as her sister was waiting. But the wait was almost over, and when the door finally opened, they would both step forward, side by side, ready to face whatever came next in the House of Albums.