Accentuate the Accent

Cling

It's November thirtieth. You've rented a moving van and you've packed everything you owned. It isn't much, but you're determined by now. You hop into the passenger seat and buckle up. The butterflies in your belly are lulled by the smell of the driver. Seeing as you've never operated more than a bicycle, you weren't exactly suitable driving-savvy.

Your shoulder is pushed by a gentle hand. You chuckle and meet the driver with a smile.

"Ya ready, lass?"

"Absolutely!"

You had indeed asked for Abraham's help. After your sleepover you thought long and hard about it. You did not know what kind of help he would be offering, but you figured it would be better than nothing. Considering the help was of this magnitude, it not only killed you inside, but brought out new hopes for your future. You would surely find a way to pay him back.

You turned on the van's radio and bobbed your head to some tweeny-indie-pop song. You shrugged when Abraham chuckled.

"I don't listen to music much, unless it's being played at the diner." He hummed.

"Only music I'er listen'a is Cro's 50's romp. Reminds me'o my parents, but t'wasa long time ago." It was your turn to hum. Parents... "How is ta diner? I've heard good reviews."

"Oh, well y'see, since it was relatively new, last week we had like four different critics come by and each one left more than pleased!" The diner was coming along fine, and you enjoyed their compliance with morning shifts instead of closing. Much better than Charles would've handled.

"Betcha that's coz'a you." You chuckled nervously.

"Well, waiting tables is new, but it doesn't hurt to talk to people. Um. I'm pretty sure I only handled one of the critics." Smooth talker. How dare he.

The rest of the ride is pretty much silent. The radio has gone over three other songs before you both pull up to the light brown townhouse with the blue door marked 337. You smile brightly to see Cronus decked out in jogging gear. He's bouncing around and Eridan simply waits.

"Morning, guys! Beautiful day for moving, huh?"

You all begin to load the boxes into the foyer and the living room. There are maybe two big boxes for your clothing and bed sheets, and your shoes and luggages. Cronus and Abraham lug those upstairs, wirh Abe screaming "pivot!" It's admirable to say the least.

The rest of the boxes, though torn, are composed of old cds, folders from past college days, jewelry boxes and knick-knacks of all sorts. Eridan brings in the last two; a bin of summer clothes and that box. This one box in particular, you've had re-taped at least four times. It's the first box you ever had.

Now, you think, this was when I first left for college. I had only my most important items in it: medical reports, a million and one to-do lists, extra school supplies and most importantly...

You lift a bulking envelope from the right side of the box.

... Letters from my parents.

They dated all throughout college for you, with hopes and praise of your accomplishments. Towards the back of the envelope were more depressing tones, however. Your father's health was deteriorating, your mother was forgetting everything. At the end of the very last letter, after all the hopes for the new year your mother mentioned, she writes: "Whoever you are, I hope you have a wonderful new year with family and friends. ♡ "

You're lost in your reverie when Cronus basically rammed into your arm. "Isn't this the bits?! Like a supa long sleepova! This'll be so cool-- my friends will love ya!"