The sun hung low in the sky as Kian and Nia approached the edge of the city, where towering buildings gave way to quieter streets lined with sprawling homes and tall, iron-wrought gates. Kian walked a step ahead, his eyes locked on the familiar path as if he were navigating the corridors of his own memories. Nia followed silently, watching his back with a mixture of concern and quiet anticipation.
They reached a set of tall, ornate gates, partially covered in creeping vines. Kian paused, his hand hovering over the gate's iron surface, fingers brushing against the cold metal. He took a deep breath, then pushed.
The gate groaned, reluctant to open, as if resisting the passage of time itself. Dust and leaves scattered from its hinges as it swung inward, revealing the path beyond. The stone pathway was cracked with age, but still solid. Small patches of wildflowers grew between the stones, their petals swaying gently in the breeze.
At the end of the path stood Kian's family home a grand, three-story estate that loomed with an air of melancholic dignity. Ivory walls were weathered from neglect, and the windows, tall and imposing, stared back at them with hollow silence.
Nia stepped up beside him, her eyes wide. "This is…your house?"
Kian nodded, his gaze distant. "Yeah… it's been empty for a long time."
Nia placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"
Kian's jaw tightened, and he nodded again. "I have to be."
They walked up the stone path, each step echoing with memories. Kian could almost hear the laughter of his parents, the way his mother's voice carried through the halls, the scent of his father's cooking drifting from the kitchen. He swallowed hard, pushing the memories back down where they couldn't hurt him.
The front door was heavy and solid oak, etched with intricate designs that had long since faded. He fished out the key from his pocket the one he had kept with him since that day and fit it into the lock. It turned with a reluctant click, and the door creaked open, revealing the darkness within.
Dust motes floated in the shafts of sunlight that pierced through cracked windows. Sheets covered the furniture, draped like ghosts lingering in the empty spaces. Kian took a slow step inside, his boots leaving imprints in the dust as he moved.
Nia followed close behind, her fingers brushing against a sheet-covered couch. "It's…beautiful," she whispered.
Kian smiled faintly. "It was. My mom loved this place… she always said it was where memories were built."
They wandered through the foyer and into the living area, where grand windows stretched nearly to the ceiling, casting pale light across wooden floors. The fireplace was untouched, its hearth layered with dust. A framed photo sat on the mantel, the only object left exposed. Kian walked over and picked it up, brushing away the layer of grime.
The picture was of him and his parents, standing proudly in front of the house, his father's arm wrapped tightly around his shoulders, his mother's smile bright and unburdened.
Nia stepped up beside him, peering at the image. "You look happy," she said softly.
Kian placed the photo back on the mantel, his expression hardening. "I was."
A silence settled between them until Nia took his hand, squeezing gently. "We can make it that way again."
Kian looked at her, the resolve in her eyes bringing warmth to his chest. He squeezed back. "Yeah…we can."
Hours Later
They spent the rest of the afternoon uncovering the furniture, sweeping away the dust of abandonment, and throwing open the windows to let fresh air flow through. Nia hummed as she worked, her energy infectious, while Kian scrubbed and repaired what he could. Laughter filled the space between them as they wrestled with old sheets that refused to let go of the furniture and wiped the dirt from glass panes that hadn't seen sunlight in years.
By evening, the house began to feel less like a relic and more like a home. Kian stood back, arms crossed, surveying their work with a nod of satisfaction. "It's starting to look like it used to."
Nia beamed, her cheeks flushed from effort. "I think it's beautiful," she said, flopping onto the freshly cleaned couch. "I can't wait to see the rest of it."
Kian raised an eyebrow. "You mean… you're staying here too?"
Nia sat up, blinking. "Of course I am! You're not getting rid of me that easily," she said with a grin.
Kian chuckled. "I wouldn't dream of it."
The night crept in slowly, stars flickering awake above the cityscape. Kian and Nia sat by the living room windows, eating takeout they'd picked up from the corner store simple sandwiches and soup. They ate in silence for a while, watching the world outside grow dark and still.
"Do you think Chandler's okay?" Nia asked quietly, her gaze fixed on the stars.
Kian leaned back against the window frame, his expression softening. "If anyone can take care of themselves, it's him," he replied, confidence lacing his voice. "He'll be back."
Nia nodded, her eyes glimmering with hope. "Yeah… he will."
Kian's gaze drifted to the photo on the mantel, illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight. He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the house settle into his bones not heavy, but grounding. "We'll make this place ours," he said firmly.
Nia smiled, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Together?"
Kian's hand found hers, and he squeezed gently. "Together."