(4) Out of Control: An All Time Low FanFiction Romance

Chapter 44: Home

        "My baby!" My mom's voice greeted me while I opened the front door awkwardly, too many bags to actually have a free limb to get the knob correctly. Her thin arms wrapped around my torso in the threshold, swaying from side to side while repeating her words over and over again.

        I never thought I'd miss my parents as much as I did in that moment.

        I let my things fall at my sides, arms instictively returning the gesture around her shoulders. She smelled the same, like the shampoo she'd been using for years. The house smelled like homemade cooking, something I was all too familiar with from my large, Italian heritage on her side of the family.

        It felt like it'd been so long since I saw her last, her dark hair more gray, eyes a little more tired. She was still beautiful, dark eyes never fading, even in the long New England winter months.

        My t-shirt felt wet near my shoulder where her face had been, and I knew she was crying, sucking back shaky breaths and still babbling about how I was home. I chuckled, unwinding my limbs from her hold to back away a little. She reluctantly pulled away, reaching for my hand with her right and touching my cheek with her left.

        "Hi Ma," I said, smiling. I could see the corner of her mouth tugging up as well, pulling her hand from my face to wipe under her eyes. It'd been the longest I'd been away from her before, and it was obvious by our reaction to one another.

        "Who is this kid? I've never seen her before," my dad taunted from down the hall, leaning against the wall right before the door to the kitchen. I rolled my eyes, dodging my bag before moving quickly towards him and pulling him in for a long hug.  He laughed lightly, kissing the top of my head.

        "I missed you guys," I said softly, backing way. He grinned, ruffling my hair lightly.

        "We missed you too, love," he welcomed me into the kitchen, where I could see what I smelled from the doorway. A sigh left my lips when I looked at our table, wanting to cry at the sight before me.

        My mom had prepared brunch, complete with assorted breakfast and lunch items, with three plates set at the table, just beyond the island. I could feel my entire body react to the picture perfect meal, stomach growling in protest to the breakfast I'd skipped that morning on the bus.

        My mother was the most beautiful, amazing, Italian woman on the face of the planet, ever.

        "Help yourself, dear," my mom said, breathing heavily while dragging my bags through the kitchen, towards the laundry room to the right. I looked at her, opening my mouth to protest, but she put her hand up, her familiar eyes narrowing on mine with some knowing look she always gave me. "I don't want to hear it. I'm going to start the wash, and you need to eat. It looks like you've lost twenty pounds since being on tour."

        If there was one thing I learned while growing up, it was to never, ever, question what my mohter said. So, my mouth tightened into a straight line, letting out a breath and moving towards the table. I was almost scared the food would disappear if I got too close.

        "You act like you've never seen food before," my dad's deep, throaty chuckle broke my concentration. I shook my head, looking up at him with a small smile.

        "It's been almost two months without any real food, I'm working my way into this."

        "Well, I've been working with this food since you left, so I have no problem eating your serving," he was only teasing, but I was enough for me to move to my usual seat, sliding in with the plate set in front of me.

        It was only a short moment before I was piling different items onto my plate, frittata, bruschetta, crosata with raspberry jam, scrambled eggs and seasoned potatoes.  By the time I was just putting some assorted fruit on my plate, my mom walked over with a cup of orange juice an dput it down next to me.

        "I love you," I barely mumbled through my first bite of food, not exactly sure what I picked up first. All I did was let out a moan, sinking further into my seat and gaining a few quiet laughs from my parents. My mom placed her hand on my head, patting my hair lightly and looking down at me. The sun cast through the window over my shoulder, falling on the side of her face.

        "You're somethng else, Natalia," she admired me before I dove further into my home cooked meal, unable to contain myself any longer.

        After an hour of feasting, I was to full to move much at all. With a cup of coffee in my hands, and my parents seated at the table across from me, I was content. The dishes were in the sink, my mom and dad let me devour all the food in silence, and were now waiting patiently for me to speak about my two months away from home on the road.

        "How was it?" my mom finally pried when I took a sip of my coffee. I smield, bringing the mug back to the table.

        "The best thing in the entire world. Ma, you should've seen some of the crowds we had. They were so big and all those kids would be singing our songs. Like, actually singing along to our fuc.." my dad cut me off, index finger pointing in the direction of my mouth.

        "Language," he said sternly. I nodded, apologizing before continuing.

        "There were some kids that would say we were their favorite band and had been following us online. And ever new show, we'd have more fans. We're at a new place almost every night and it's so much fun. All of the bands were awesome, they're so much fun to be around. And.."

        This time, my mom cut me off, eyes bright and excited like I was. "Tell me about your new friends, the other guys playing and what not."

        "They're so great. Our manager, Lauren, she's wicked chill. It's like she's one of us instead of being all business all the time. I've been hanging out with Jess from The Summer Set a lot recently, she's so funny. And Stephen and John are brothers, but they're really different. All of the guys in Yellowcard are a little older than I am, but they are really funny. Then the guys of All Time Low are awesome and.."

        "How many boys were on this tour?" my dad asked, like it was all of a sudden some huge concern.

        "Uh -- Jess, Cassadee, and I are the only girls on tour in the bands, but Alex has his fiancé with him, and we have Lauren, Kinsley, and Courtney who's another manager.."

        "And the rest were boys?" My mom butt in, barely letting me finish a sentence. But, that's how we always were with each other, it wasn't hard to keep up with. "Are any of them cute?"

        I smiled almost to myself, picking up my coffee cup with both hands and bringing it to my mouth. I let the warm liquid slide down my throat, remembering the boys these last two months quiet easily.

        "Yeah, most of them are."

        "Did you get to know any of them?" she questioned, starting a mom-daughter conversation and making my dad roll his eyes and lean back in his chair. I laughed once, nodding my head slightly.

        "I got to know a few of them, they're all really great friends," I said, emphasizing the word so she wouldn't get ideas, which she didn't seem to when she slumped in her seat, much like Kinsley did at times.

        My mom was always telling me to settle down the same way Kinsley was. Sure, she didn't know the extent of my relationships, but she knew I never had a boyfriend before an dplenty of guy friends. I think it was just her hopes to see me with a boyfriend, to think about marriage as a possibility in my future. Her concern was normal to me, but I wasn't going to start telling her about how I spent my nights on tour and how very few of them recently were spent alone.

        Plus, it wasn't anything to talk about anyway. Even if it felt different, it would eventually turn into every other hook up in my past. Just another memory.