CAPTURED BEAUTY (Peter Steele x Reader)

EIGHTEEN: No More Doubt

  A plane carries you over the soft waves of clouds that cover the span of New York. The sun, warm, bright and inviting peers over the endless skies and greets you with a new beginning you weren't sure you were ready for. It tugs at your heartstrings to leave all the valuable connections behind with not so much as even a goodbye. The people you would have worried. The job that wouldn't dare miss you. The heartache you desperately tried to justify lingered in immense waves of grief. If new beginnings were this hard, why did you attempt them in the first place? You tried your damnedest with this start and the realization that it wasn't meant for you practically shattered your world view. It wasn't just Peter but it was the dream that crashed with it. The ailment for your struggles resided in Minnesota where embraces were familiar and a warmth your bones had come to know. Home sweet home was a saying heard all around the world and you were glad to be heading back.

  Once you land, Minnesota gifts you with the lightest layer of snow on the ground. Wheat fields, vast and sprinkled with fall snow, make your mind run with memory after memory. Nostalgia fuels your journey further into the winding roads of your mom's house, perched in a secluded area that surprisingly still got service. It wasn't anything fancy but you'd be lying if the wooden paneling and sticky linoleum floors didn't make a part of you light up again. Still, you were worried of the unavoidable conversation with your mom, not wanting to let her down.

So the drive there felt like you were practicing lines you wished you didn't need to mutter.

The thing was? Mom enveloped you with kindness, always. The northern bite of cold didn't nudge her off the porch where she greeted you once you pulled up in the driveway. When you parked and shut off the car, you braced yourself the best you could when you'd climb out and make your way inside.

"You could have at least called," your mom says, wrapping you in a warm hug, "was worried when you didn't call me for a bit there. Everything okay?''

She looks at you with that look you know too well. It's aged with time passed and it felt like it had been so long since you didn't feel so out of place. When the tears threatened to escape, you nod and shrug off your coat.

"Things could be better," you confess softly, hanging up your coat. "There's so much, mom. Too much."

Your mom eyes you from across the way when she gives you some space to set your things aside and get comfortable. There's not much said and she then sits beside you.

"I thought you were happy out there."

You wipe your eyes, "Far from it. I tried. I really tried. I had the most shittiest boss on the planet. Made me feel like I was a complete idiot for even joining the damn company." You look down, not having the courage to meet your mother's gaze. Tears fell as your breaths shake and tremble. "and then I met a really nice guy but he told me to get out of his life. I— I really thought ...he was going to stay, mom."

You feel a hug, slow and warm wrap around you. A moment passes as you imagined you dad also hugging you in spirit.

"You're going to be okay, Y/n. I know it feels like it's the end of all that you worked towards but someone out there will see you." She pulls away and you sniffle. "Don't let this scare you off from doing what you want to do."

"I know," you nod and clear your face and eyes from the tears, "I just really needed to come home after all this. Honestly, I wasn't even thinking straight when I packed last night. I was so upset. Just wish I could have at least had the courage to say goodbye, for real." The words strike heavy realization and aches that made your mind race. Your mom, quiet and steady, nods.

"But you had the courage to try. There's nothing wrong with coming home when you need to," she says, "you're always allowed home to get your bearings again. This meant a lot to you and just because you faced rejection, bad bosses or even a man who couldn't stay it doesn't mean that you are not worth seeing."