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[indent][color=d3d3d3]Listening to steady hooves and a gentle tail swish, Ryland Aspen led a chestnut coat stallion into a large shed, in which the planks were weathered and made of oak. Today was his last day in the city of angels and he was here, helping his mother groom the horses, while he thought about how he was going to 'grow the fuck up' and 'take responsibility' for his actions. With one semester left at Beverly Hills High, his father came to the decision that the most logical option to help his second son and prevent him from causing anymore anarchy was to pull him out of his current school and give the hellraiser a clean slate, a fresh start, in Crown Heights with his aunt. 

Did his old man honestly think he could close this book and start a new one just like that? Pretend that he didn't have many counts against him that could throw him into Juvie? Or worst, prison? If he wasn't one of his father's legacies and his older brother's shadow, would he be as lucky? For his fortunate upbringing, he could put it all behind him, but the chances of him doing so were... unlikely. Nothing he would ever do was going to be good enough, so there was no reason to try. Did his family truly, deeply think transferring him to a new school was going to help him? Did they honestly think he could become a better person by simply uprooting his life and making him fly across America?    

[i]Press X to Doubt[/i].

Stopping in his tracks, right beside a deep golden hue of old straw, when the horse he was leading nudged his head, Ryland turned his body to stare into her gentle eyes. Autumn was her name. She was one of his favorites, with a heart made of love, a slender profile, and such awareness to the the storm that harbored inside his soul.  His heart beat steadied and for a moment or two things became still. 

Calm. 

Empty. 

Then and only then was when the sound of his mother's voice, as warm as early spring, cautiously slipped into his peace. His mother usually knew just the right time to speak to him, when the noise of the world became radio static and he briefly gained control of the raging energy inside him. The boy now unburdened found himself matching his breaths with the Beauty before him. Closing his eyes to the world and its troubles, he leaned his forehead against his horse and listened to Alaina, whose French accent was a pleasure to listen to, thanks to the rhythm of her delivery. She, who was dedicated to perfect her speech even if she struggled to stress some words, tried to give his lonely heart some compassion, hoping to end his holiday break with encouragement, instead of resentment, [color=62aec7]"I know you're bitter, mon loup."[/color] Gliding beside him, she tenderly gazed at her son not by birth but by bond and rested her head on his sturdy shoulder, [color=62aec7]"But think of this as... a stepping-stone. Not your destination. Learn something new. Find reasons to smile and enjoy your youth. Be there, for your friends. For your aunt. For yourself. But most importantly, try to forgive your past. And I promise you, my Ryland, it'll be worth the effort in the end."[/color]

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This woman saw far more good in him than he saw in himself. This was one part of her he would never understand. She spends most of her life helping others get over their trauma and insecurities, she dedicates her purpose mending the hurt, the scared, and the vulnerable, and the rest of her time? Rather than take care of herself, or even his little brother, Phoenix, she was checking up on him. 

At times, Ryland wondered if he was more of a project to her than her child. A project that takes the rest of her time and energy outside of work. It was hard for him to believe he deserved this kind of empathy and tolerance, yet here she was, offering him comfort just like she did yesterday after he blew up at the dinner table, breaking her special holiday plates, causing his father to give him choice words and an equal display of rage, which was rare for the old man. 

Unable to respond, he allowed the silence to take over and for them to share it with no interruptions. They stood there, in front of Autumn, being there. In the present moment. When he opened his eyes, ready to respond, he realized he was no longer at the stable, but in front of the [url=https://laurelberninteriors.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/05/13-36261-post/via-chezballiet-instagram-photograph-Ana-Lui-Photography-green-front-door-color.png]green door[/url] that belonged to his Aunt Bennett’s humble abode.

Time had passed like a blur and it was already the following day... 
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[indent][color=d3d3d3]Before knocking on the door with his knuckles, he looked over his shoulder, while carrying two large duffel bags, at the neighborhood behind him. Seemingly welcoming and still in the period of idleness that the holidays never failed to bring, where local businesses were closed, no one made doctor appointments, and some families were completely gone entirely, traveling to those they considered worth loving. He was here and he didn't know how to feel about it. Countless times he's visited for vacation, but this time felt different and he couldn't help but be frustrated at not knowing the answers to the questions coursing through his mind. 

As a G-wagon went down the street, he turned his head back to the door and huffed a long strand of hair out of his face. No longer wanting to waste his time staring off toward the middle distance, he firmly knocked and loudly projected, [color=fff700]"Aunt B, you there?"[/color] 

[color=f6ab98]"The doors unlocked, Riri!"[/color] Her bright, modulated, and feminine voice chimed in from rooms over, most likely in the kitchen preparing him something to eat. His father had paid for van service to transport his son from the airport to Crown Heights, to not put too much on his little sister. Ryland knew the moment he stepped into her house Miley Bennett would want to play 'catch up and ask my nephew a million and one questions' so he had to make sure he could distract her and then run off to surprise his friends, who should be in the area, not away, but he could be wrong. 

Guess he could text them, or not.

[color=fff700]"Okay."[/color] Here goes nothing. 

Cheers to the start of a new book, not chapter: [b]The beginning of the end.[/b]

[color=fff700][i]Happy New Year, to me.[/i][/color][/color] [/indent]