Roman didn't have as much of a hard time saying goodbye to his hometown the way he expected. Sure, it was going to take a bit to adjust to a few things: he would no longer be hearing train whistles or screeching of metal wheels on tracks outside of his bedroom window; tall, rundown buildings with garbage-filled alleyways wouldn't be the sight to greet him when walking down the street; drunken brawls below his fire escape wouldn't wake him in the middle of the night anymore. 

He wouldn't be sharing a roof with that woman.

Some hesitancy to leave bloomed when being bombarded with a plethora of memories from years passed. Downtown Charlotte was where he was born, after all. It was the city where he made his first friends with enthusiastic classmates; where he found out how much he loved taking nightly walks, rain puddles reflecting the vibrant hues of fluorescent billboard signs; where he learned of the peaceful serenity found within the embrace of a public library, even when crowded. Overall, despite minor annoyances happening daily, it was an environment Roman knew well. One he'd learned to be comfortable in.

Downtown Charlotte was also the witness to Roman hitting his lowest lows, though. So, regardless of whether or not he was ready, it was time to move on.

He had to turn his back on the life he once knew in order to greet his new home with open arms.

A town which, quite honestly, didn't look the way he'd expected.

When someone moved to a new place, especially one they'd never been to or seen before, it was sometimes possible to imagine the physical characteristics solely because of the name. Towns with flowers in their names could be seen as nature-filled.  Cities with "new" in their names could be seen as innovative or crowded. Locations with short names could be pictured as small, cozy, and community-driven.

Maple Bay was the physical manifestation of irony.

While on his two-and-a-half hour long bus ride, Roman hadn't seen any maple trees. The town also didn't appear to be close to any large or substantial bodies of water. Rather than being a coastal-esque type of place, Maple Bay was more of an intimate suburb.

It was an environment Roman hadn't scorched his identity and mistakes into - a town that didn't know his burdens. Streets and storefronts didn't come with lingering reminders of people who were no longer with him.

He relied on such a profound feeling of detachment to keep him from looking back.

With his gaze focused on the view outside of a spotty window, the tip of his left pointer finger grazed the rough fabric of his suitcase. Minor tears in the lower side pocket could be felt when faint passes ghosted across the section. Cold metal lightly smacked against his knuckle, movement from the bus causing the bag's fasteners to sway from side to side.

Even through a film of tinted glass accompanied by thick overhead clouds above, it was easy to make out the current passing strip.

Several business awning signs gave way to multiple types of foreign eateries, local clothing shops, and the occasional music shop. A quaint little farmer's market had fruits and vegetables on display in small, rickety containers. People were seen walking in and out of different establishments, either by themselves, with family, or with large groups of friends.

Towering trees stood on either side of the street, vibrant leaves dancing in the wind. Large branches wove across each other in uneven shapes. They bent at random intervals and continued to climb higher into the air until being hidden by a mass of green. If the sun was out, the large plants would have acted as competent shields in terms of keeping away blinding rays.

Neighboring cars drove alongside one another on a wide road. Some vehicles continued in the direction the bus was going, while others made turns to go down other streets or moved in the opposite direction. A center pathway consisted of inground tracks, most likely for some sort of electric railway or trolley system. No one attempted to drive in the designated area because there was an unspoken agreement to stay out of the way for decent traffic flow.

It was... different. A lot to take in. A lot to get used to.

Roman could tell by the way other citizens behaved around each other that Maple Bay was a community-driven, closely knit environment.

He wondered how long it would take to no longer feel like an outsider in a foreign land.

The familiar, high-pitched 'ping' to alert the bus driver of a stop request forced Roman out of his thoughts. A folded piece of paper was pulled out of his jeans' pocket. Handwritten contents were smoothed out to reveal a step-by-step guide on where he was supposed to go to reach his destination.

Two more stops, and it would be his turn to get off.

Roman could only be grateful his aunt, Mikayla, didn't hesitate to offer up her house after finding out her nephew had been kicked out. She was a much kinder, more open woman in comparison to her sister. Still, Roman was afraid of genuine curiosity building to such an extent, Mikayla would be unable to reel in the desire to pry out of concern.

Because of the quick turn of events which rendered him homeless, only the bare minimum had been explained. Mikayla knew a really bad argument happened, Roman had barely been able to gather his necessities before being abandoned on the street, and he had to call her from a random payphone since his cellular device no longer worked. She didn't know the specifics, and, really, Roman wasn't in the mood to share them.

Hopefully, Mikayla would understand.

Grabbing his suitcase by the handle, Roman reached upward to press the stop request button. A harsh bout of nervousness caused heat to pool in his stomach. Fierce knots bundled tightly, scrunching together even further as the bus slowed down.

The vehicle stopped by a yellow sign with black letters. Large wheels let out a piercing 'squeak'. Foldable doors opened. A fragrant aroma of freshly cut grass and wildflowers wafted inside.

It was time for Roman to take his next step forward.

"This your stop, son?" the bus driver asked, looking back via an overhead mirror.

"Yeah, sorry."

Roman slid out of his seat with his bag in hand. He held the luggage in front of him to keep from bumping into any armrests. Quick steps were taken down metal stairs. Both sneakers touched down on pale concrete. 

A faint breeze caressed the bare skin of his arms, further cementing that this was his new reality.

"Thanks for the lift."

"Course. You have a good one, young man."

Roman offered a delicate, forced smile. He set his suitcase down on its wheels in time with the bus pulling away. For a moment, the smell of nature was overpowered by gasoline - a smell he tied his old home to. The scent faded just as quickly. A fresh, sweet aroma, only found in the middle of a suburban summer, filled his nose again.

Something else he'd have to get used to.

The crinkled paper from before was glanced over. As per Mikayla's directions, Roman would have to make an immediate left at the nearest light, continue straight for a few more streets, and then make another left to get to his aunt's house. Simple enough.

Plastic wheels traveled along unblemished pathways. Occasional dandelions sprouted in between tight crevices separating concrete slabs. Careful turns helped to ensure plant life would continue to thrive, rather than being trampled by bitter recklessness.

Roman allowed his gaze to wander so he could get a better grasp of the area around him. A passing glance was made at the long, vintage-looking, connected trolley cars coming up the street he was walking down. A nearby trolley stop stood in front of a dance school, bakery, and frozen yogurt place. As he continued on his walk, he found more storefronts, taking note of the ones he'd like to visit in the near future.

Businesses became homes when getting to a residential strip. Roman stopped at a specific one with the address painted on the side of a wooden mailbox.

A vibrant, thriving lawn stood on either side of a stone pathway. Flowerbeds with differing floral arrangements were grouped on either side of a double door front entrance. The house itself was a bright green color with hints of gray stone crawling up the outer corners. A balcony with two couches could be seen on the second floor. A brick chimney stood out against the roofing near a longer section of the L-shaped residence.

Faint giggling could be heard coming from the opposite side of the house, presumably where the backyard was. Two sets of feet were running away from another, heavier pair. Light huffing created the mental picture of three people running around, chasing each other while under the shade of a tall oak tree.

Sounds of merriment painted Mikayla's house as one filled with joy and love.

Albeit sweet, the notion made Roman even more nervous.

Each step taken down the walkway made his hands feel extra clammy. He committed to the nervous habit of toying with several strands of hair ending half way down his ear. The gesture then switched to his entire palm resting on the back of his neck. Short nails scratched against his skin to get rid of an incessant tingling sensation.

A part of Roman chided himself for being so anxious. It was just aunt Kay -  really, what was there to be scared of? She'd never been mean to him in the past. She'd never raised her voice at him or made fun of him. She'd never made him feel bad for liking certain things. Her family was just as open and caring as she was, so...

Maybe he was scared because...his upbringing hadn't been like theirs?

It would make sense. Roman didn't grow up with a household full of hugs, kisses, or anyone genuinely asking how he was doing.

Perhaps his fear stemmed from the inability to mimic the excitement which would be going on around him from now on.

Shaking his head, Roman reached up to knock. He could make out what sounded like a metal pan or pot being set down onto the stove. House shoes moving across the floor got louder until stopping on the other side of the door.

Roman took a step back as it opened. His entire body stiffened without permission, muscles becoming taut out of reflex.

He took in the sight of long, straight, ginger hair; icy blue eyes; and freckles speckled across a thin nose.

They were the strong characteristics almost all members of the Indigo family had. Roman saw them every single day when looking in the mirror. They were also features he got from his mother.

It took a lot of mental gymnastics for that woman's face to not appear over Mikayla's. It was difficult to not shy away from her completely when both women looked so much alike.

There were several dissimilarities he had to take into account to keep himself calm: Mikayla wasn't like Rachel. Mikayla wasn't the one who put Roman on the street because of a heated disagreement. Mikayla wasn't the one who failed as a parent.

Any grievances toward Mikayla would be ill placed since they were really pointed at Rachel.

Letting out a shaky breath, Roman let go of his suitcase. He did his best not to flinch as he was gently pulled into a tight hug. One hand cradled the back of his head, while the other acted as a grounding weight on his back. A soft cheek nuzzled against his, a silent appreciation of him finally arriving to the house.

"I'm so glad you're safe, honey."

Roman gave a loose hug back. "Yeah. Sorry for...all this."

"Don't you ever apologize for needing help, sweetheart. You did the right thing by calling." Mikayla pulled back, resting her palm against her nephew's flushed, warmer cheek. "Let's get you settled in, yeah? I'm sure you're exhausted from being on the road for so long. I was just about to put some food on the stove. I think it'd do you some good to have a home-cooked meal."

Nodding in agreement, Roman was guided inside the house. His suitcase was wheeled in too, and the door was shut behind him.