A/N: Read at your own risk. I repeat. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. Why? Because believe me, you will HATE this story. If not for the awful writing style then for the plot itself. But if you're up for the challenge, read on. And see A/N below. Cheers!
---One || Fly Away (to the UK)
"Need help, sweetheart?"
I zipped the last suitcase closed just as my mom walked into the room. She held a plate of cookies in one hand, and was sporting a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. I should know. For months now, my 'smile' could rival hers. Although, I couldn't blame her sad smile on anyone else but me and my decision to spend the next couple months abroad.
"I brought snacks," she crossed the room to sit on my bed. "Dinner isn't for another half hour. I thought you might want something to tide you over."
"I'm good," I gave my case one last smack before sitting down beside her. I grabbed a cookie before taking the plate from her and placing it on my now bare bedside table.
"You sure packed a lot. Makes me think you're going for good instead of a few months."
"Mom, please. You know me when it comes to traveling. And as if I could resist leaving you alone for too long." I nudged her shoulder with mine. "I'll miss your cooking too much."
"I see," she narrowed her eyes at me. "You only stick around for my kitchen skills, eh?"
"Of course," I shrugged. "Why else would I still be living with you despite being over 20? One should never scoff at free meals."
"Free, huh?" She played along. "Well then. Expect to be charged for boarding when you come back from England. Utilities separate, as well as meals."
I laughed out loud at that, making her laugh along with me.
"Oh, mom." I threw my arms around her. "I am gonna miss you fiercely."
"I will, too, baby girl," she hugged me back with equal fervor. "So much."
She pulled away to cradle my face in her hands. I could see her eyes becoming glassy with tears, making me tear up in response.
"Remember, Thea," she held my gaze steady."You will always have a home with me. No matter how old you are, no matter what you've done, no matter how long you've been away. My door is open, your room will always be waiting for you."
"I love you, mom," I gave her a watery smile. "Thank you."
"Me too, sweetheart," she pulled me back into her arms and hugged me tightly.
If there was one person I could depend on, it was my mother. The past couple weeks could attest to that. I had moved out of the house and into my own apartment at 18. But she took me back in, no questions asked, when I appeared on her doorstep one night in February. All my stuff from my previous apartment had appeared in my bedroom the next morning. I never looked back.
"Are you sure this is the best solution, Thea?" She asked when she released me again. She'd asked me variations of that question ever since I told her of my decision of leaving.
"We've been over this, mom. It's just a vacation. You know dad's been hinting at me moving to London ever since I graduated. A few weeks with him in the UK will placate him some."
"I won't stop you if moving to London is something you want to do," her own hands shook with the statement but she deflected it by reaching for a cookie. "My practice is here. But you can establish a new life for yourself anywhere you want. You know your dad and I will support you."
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