Chapter Text
Staring down at his life for the past decade all wrapped in cardboard boxes. Wolfgang can't help but wonder where he might have ended up had he made the decision to move earlier. He doesn’t know when his life became so stagnant, however, he is happy to be done with it. He takes the last of his meager belongings to his car and casts one final glance at the place he used to call home. He sees the loose floorboard that always made Grace fall when she would come over, the chipped paint on the door frame from when it was slammed too hard—the stairs. It’s a kind of feeling he can’t quite place, somewhat bittersweet, saying goodbye to his whole livelihood. But time is of the essence, He doesn’t have time to ponder on it; the condo is already sold, and his new house has already been bought. He has to leave before it gets dark anyway. So with a steady resolve, he loads the last of his possessions into the trunk, but not before stopping at a florist for one final task: a bouquet of delicate violet tulips, his mother’s favorite.
As he pulls into the cemetery, that familiar feeling of melancholy washes over him. He can’t help but feel like a lost kid again, having to encounter a daunting future without his mother to guide him. Walking in he quickly spots his mother's grave. Kneeling down, he brushes away the dust that settled on her tombstone and replaces the wilted flowers with the fresh tulips, their soft purple petals contrasting against the gray stone. His mother would be fifty-five now.
“Hello,” he murmured, plucking away at the petals of the old flowers as he spoke. “I will not be back for a while, but rest assured, I’ll visit again.” With that, he turns away, he can’t bring himself to stay longer—he never could. But as he walked away, he found himself glancing back repeatedly, as if she would cease to exist if he left. As he exited the cemetery he idly wondered what his mother would think of him moving. He hopes that she's proud of him- of what he has made of himself after her passing.
Finally done with everything he needs to do, Wolfgang says goodbye to the city of his childhood. The trip to his new house is only about two hours. During the drive his mind is only half on the road, the other half already envisioning what he’ll do when he gets to his new home. He already had a lot planned from the walkthrough he had done, the color he’d paint the walls, the furniture he’d buy. He had saved diligently for new items, many of which were already on their way. By the time he arrived, his excitement was still evident.
It was a small brown house nestled in the middle of a quaint neighborhood. Although it is somewhat of a fixer-upper—with an overgrown lawn and a patchy paint job— it is within his budget, and the surrounding area seems lovely. Taking in the last of his boxes inside he wipes sweat off his face, and sits down on the cold hardwood floor. As he listens to the sounds of faint laughter and birds chirping around him, he can’t help but feel a smile pull at his lips. It's so different from the hustle and bustle of the city, he can hear his breathing; it’s liberating. At thirty-two, he never envisioned moving away from the city—everything he had ever known, but here he is, embarking on a new chapter of his life.
His hands trace the floorboards, the house reminds him of his childhood. He could almost see his mother, sitting on the floor beneath the warm glow of their home, gently folding sheets of colorful paper.
“What are you doing, mama?” The younger him would ask, always so full of curiosity.
“Making invites for the housewarming, would you like to help, sweetie?” Wolfgang would move to sit closer to her on the floor, she would smile at him and hand him a small piece of blue paper. “Here,” she'd grab his hand and go through the moments of folding the paper- once, twice, three times “Ta-da, now you have a flower!” Her smile would widen to show her teeth, “Now try on your own.”
As the memory faded and the warmth of nostalgia enveloped him, exhaustion overtook Wolfgang, lulling him into a peaceful sleep on the hardwood floor, dreaming of the endless possibilities that lay ahead.
—
When he wakes he feels the layers of dust coating his skin and the stiffness of his back, a consequence from his unconventional resting place. He yawns as his eyes gradually adjust to the morning sun shining bright from his uncurtained windows. Glancing around the room, he finds a multitude of unpacked boxes littering his home, he sighs, stands up, brushing off the dust clinging to his pants, and sets his sights on the task of sorting; putting each and every box in its respective place in his house.
His furniture is scheduled to arrive the following day, but as his stomach growls, he realizes he doesn't have any food in the house- let alone a fridge to store it in. He recalls a small convenience store he scouted down the road on the trip over. He grabs his coat and heads out the door. The brisk morning air greets him as he takes the short walk to the store, just a block away from his newly occupied house. Along the way, he enjoys the faint melody of birds chirping and sees children playing in their yard, splashing around in the morning dew.
He approaches the building—it's small and charming but old and showing signs of erosion. As he steps inside, Wolfgang is greeted with a colorful array of junk foods, it seems like he won’t be having the most healthy breakfast. He grabs some small snacks and a sweet tea before heading to the counter where a young man sits with a scowl on his face, green eyes boring holes into him; as if giving business to his place of employment was some sort of great sin. “Ah, good morning..” Wolfgang says, glancing at the small name tag on the man's polo shirt, “..Damon.”
“Morning,” Damon replies curtly, His tone leaves little room for conversation. So, Wolfgang places his items on the counter and reaches into his coat for his wallet- his wallet that apparently no longer resides in his coat pocket.
Panic flickers in his chest as he pats himself down, the worker giving him a raised eyebrow. Wolfgang feigns a smile. “My sincerest apologies, but I seem to have left my wallet behind.” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.
“... Then you can’t get your items,” Damon replies flatly.
Wolfgang fiddles with the hem of his coat. What was wrong with this guy? Did he not want people to come to the store? No wonder it was empty. ”Yes, I’m well aware, I was just wondering if I could leave this here and come back when I have payment.”
“Sure.” Letting out a long sigh, Wolfgang walks out of the store, wondering what was with the guy at the register. Shouldn’t the people behind the register be hospitable? He runs a hand through his hair, feeling a mix of frustration and confusion. He shoves his hands into his coat pockets, realizing he must have forgotten to take his wallet out of his car, or it possibly fell into one of the boxes. Wherever it is, he will find it. As he turns the corner to his house, he spots two figures in front of it. He picks up his pace until he is close enough to identify them as a tall, muscular woman and what appears to be a teenager with shoulder-length black hair. The woman seems to be cradling something in her hands. Before he can call out to them, the woman speaks.
“Well, hello there! Do you live here?” The woman has a southern accent and a sweet smile on her face. He’s close enough now to see that she is holding a glass dish covered with aluminum foil.
“Yes, I do. Is there something you need?” He nervously glances around before hastily putting his hands into his coat pockets, hoping they aren't trying to sell him something- he just moved in.
The girl speaks up– wait, is she wearing a mask? “Yes, we wish to welcome you to the neighborhood. We noticed the ‘sold’ sign and saw the car parked in front.” She punctuated her declaration with exaggerated hand gestures, creating an infectious enthusiasm around her words.
“Yep, and we brought you peach cobbler!” The woman’s grin widened as she stepped closer, extending the dish toward Wolfgang, the sweet aroma wafting towards him.
“Why, thank you.” Wolfgang felt an unexpected smile creeping onto his face. Something about their genuine kindness and friendliness became a much needed pick-me-up after the events of the day. He hadn’t expected a warm welcome on just his second day here, but he certainly doesn’t mind. “Ah, I almost forgot to introduce myself! I’m Wolfgang- Wolfgang Akire.”
“Oh, of course! I’m Ingrid, and she’s,” she gestures to the girl, “Toshiko.” The girl, Toshiko, looks a little bit shocked before regaining her composure and waving at him.
“We live just across the street,” Toshiko comments in a softer tone than her earlier antics, but her frantic hand movements remain as she points to a pink house adorned with flowers across the street.
“Well, we best be on our way. I have a project to finish for an upcoming event, but like Toshiko said, we’re right across the street, so if you need anything, just holler!” With that, the duo turns around and heads for the pink house. Wolfgang stands awkwardly after they leave, dish in hand. Chuckling to himself, he puts the cobbler on the only surface available- the kitchen counter. Before he can dig in, he’s reminded of why he returned home in the first place: his wallet. He begins rummaging around the house, finding it wedged in one of the bedroom boxes. He lets out a triumphant Ah-ha before heading out the door to the corner store.
He’s just about to enter when a poster on the door catches his eye. Next to the opening and closing times is a small blue poster that reads, “Maitsu Market will be at the annual Edens Summer Festival, June 27, 20XX.” A summer festival? Now that he thinks about it, he remembers reading about a local festival; maybe he’ll go if he’s free, two weeks from now isn’t that far away. He makes a mental note of the poster before walking into the store and spotting a familiar face with blond hair and green eyes at the front counter. They lock eyes, and Damon mutters something under his breath.
“Welcome back,” Damon says, leaning down to pull out his items from beneath the counter. “I have to get your drink from the fridge.” He stands, and Wolfgang finally gets a good look at him. He’s a young adult with short blond hair that frames his face, drawing attention to his striking green eyes. He wears what must be the uniform: a dark green polo shirt with a name tag and dark slacks.
“Your total is $10.56. Cash or card?” Before Wolfgang can process it, Damon is seated again, waiting for payment.
“Oh, um, cash.” He grabs his wallet and pulls out the needed cash. “I saw your sign.”
“About what?”
“The summer festival.” Damon hands him his bagged items. “Oh, that. Yeah, we’ll have a stand.” A small smirk appears on his face. “Well, thanks for your purchase.”
As Wolfgang turns to exit, bag swinging in hand, he hears the familiar chime of the door. Spotting a woman with shoulder-length black hair with strips of white curled in, who rushes past him to strike up a conversation with Damon.
“Eva, you’re here early. What’s up?” Wolfgang, not wanting to eavesdrop, steps outside but not before he catches the women's name though. Eva huh? He doesn’t ponder on it too long; his mind filled with thoughts of peach cobbler and the sweet tea he brought-- wait, he still hadn’t gotten around to unpacking any of the plates and silverware.