=°[ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟ]°=

💙 Two Months Later 💙

A fuzzy two-legged beast leaned against the balcony of his apartment, looking down at the ground below it. It wasn't very far off the ground, really.

Well, the place wasn't his, it was technically his mother's. He's only 18, after all. Not like he didn't already have a stable income. Simply reaping was a good enough income for him, but... he couldn't leave his mother alone. Not after the death of his grandmother. Not for a long time.

He heard a voice call for him. His in tact ear twitches as he looked over his shoulder. He could see the living room from here, through the glass door. Well, it was a sliding glass door, but same difference, right? The voice was his mother. She called,

"Hal, time for dinner! It's your favorite, chicken alfredo!" 

He let out a shaky sigh as he heard 'chicken alfredo'. It used to be what his grandmother would cook him on the occasion. It was the tastiest thing he's ever eaten, even up to now. Nothing will ever beat it. He couldn't see his mother from the balcony window-door view.

Instead of replying, he simply silently makes his way to the kitchen. It wasn't that far of a walk, just a few simple steps... 

The kitchen and the dining room was pretty much the same room. It almost had the exact same layout as the old house. A creaky but sturdy table to the side of the sink and counter, the refrigerator next to one of the shorter counters.... it all reminded him of home. Better days.

Hal entered the kitchen, the smell of chicken hitting his nose. All it did was make him hungrier.

And brace himself for maximum disappointment.

Hal's mother, Chrysanthemum, let out a sharp gasp.

"God, Hal, why didn't you tell me your wound looks nasty as all hell!? Let me find the Neosporin..."

Chrys carefully sets down the glass plates with fresh chicken alfredo on them, hurriedly turning on her heels and rustling through the top cabinets for Neosporin. 

Even though Hal was quite a bit taller than his mother, he doesn't bother trying to help her. He knows she can handle her shit properly, she is working full time at McConnel's, after all. There's no point in complaining about Chrys trying to take care of him, either. Even though he doesn't exactly like it, the energy wasted on complaining about her trying to do a good thing is quite... tasteless.

Chrys eventually finds the yellow box containing the medicine, quickly tearing it open with one of her claws and taking it out of the package. Time for Hal scar relief. 

She had to reach real hard to be able to reach Hal's face. She began to treat the three claw marks over where his left eye used to be. He flinched as soon as the cream touched the deep gouge, though soon relaxed. This was a thing he's had to deal with since he was 11. Oh, how he missed being able to see the left side of himself without having to turn his head to the side....

Since there was already a lighter scar below the 3 gouges, Chrys couldn't put anything over the Neosporin-covered scars. All the two could hope is that it could still be effective, even without anything on it. It usually has been, so they really don't have to worry about it. 

As soon as she was finished, Chrys put the cap back on the tube of medicine put it back in the yellow packaging. Back into the cabinet you go, little box of pain relief!

Hal picked up his plate of chicken alfredo and went to sit down at the table in the kitchen, sitting in the seat the closest to the counters, while his mother sat on the opposite side. Basically, there was barely any gap to slide out of. Funny.

Hal picks up his fork. Through the chicken. Twirl. Collect the noodles. Just like always.

As soon as he had enough noodles on his fork, he puts it up to his face and chomps the fork.

It was... just chicken alfredo.

Yeah, it tasted a little like his grandmother's chicken alfredo, but... something was missing. Something was missing on his taste buds. This taste... it's supposed to taste familiar. It's supposed to taste satisfying.

But all the taste gave him was an overwhelming wave of disappointment.

"So... how's it taste?"

Hal looks up from the plate of disappointing alfredo, a mixed expression on his face. It was so mixed that it looked more emotionless than anything else. He replies with a simple, flat,

"...It's okay, I guess."

Chrys immediately began to feel confused. She made it exactly how her mother used to make it. She thought it would make both Hal and herself feel better. She doesn't prod any further, deciding she'll ask about it again later.

Hal quickly finishes eating the disappointing meal, getting up and placing the glass plate gently into the sink, while placing the fork in there not very delicately. He exited the kitchen, going into the living room and sitting down on the couch. He picks up the remote and switches on the TV. Immediately, the TV booted up to a news channel. The scaled news reporter reported,

"We found her body on her own bed. The murderer still hasn't been caught yet, but--"

Hal turns off the TV. Now isn't the time, news channel... Instead of sitting around all day like he used to do, he gets up from the couch and approaches the exit of he and his mom's abode. Since it was an easy walk to anywhere he needs to go, he doesn't take the keys to his mother's red truck. Plus, he didn't want to deal with the doors of that thing right now.

"I'm going out. Be back later."

He called over his shoulder, opening the door of the apartment and swiftly running down the halls of the complex. 

He wanted to get away as fast as he could.

<<━━━━━⋅⋅⋅ˏˋ ✦ ˊˎ⋅⋅⋅━━━━━>>

Hal slowly walked down the streets of wherever the hell his mother took him, looking down with paws in his pocket. Now that he thinks about it, his mother never told him where they were. Hal doesn't even know how far away he and his mother were from their original home. Maybe it's best if he didn't know, though.

Some people he passed uttered an "afternoon" to him, which was common courtesy of most locals in this particular branch of the underworld. But, as soon as he heard someone utter a "heya, Hal", he knew exactly where he was.

They weren't even a 20 minute drive apart.

Hal doesn't like that, for whatever reason. Another thing to confront his mother about, I suppose. 

They were still within that damn town. The town where everyone knew him. You see, Hal stirred up a bunch of trouble when he was younger, and he became infamous for it. Well, he still liked to cause trouble every now and then, but... it was way more frequent when he was a wee lad.

Hal grunts as soon as he heard the person mumble "heya, Hal", realizing he was still where he grew up. Disappointing. He never liked this place, not one bit. Only mainly because there were little to no kids to play with when he was growing up. He had a few friends scattered about his life, but none of them were permanent. At best, they lasted 3 years. It was something Hal hated going through as a kid. He knew the friends he made would disappear in the blink of an eye, yet he still tried.

Sad.

He stops at a balcony of the town, staring at the sunset. There were always little balcony areas bordering this side of the town so cars wouldn't fly into the lake. 

Hal wasn't prepared for what would befall upon him when he closed his eyes.

He embraced the gentle winds, who were blowing his fur softly.

And that's when it came back to him.

|| :: { MEMORY DIVE . . . } :: ||