Renovating the Heart (FFXV)

XLV) Starting Anew

The couch pressed against her legs, heating her pale skin and absorbing the warmth from the body that bundled atop it in thin, patchy blankets. Unwashed hair splayed out across the smooth faux leather, freshly trimmed back to a length that just barely brushed the tops of her shoulders. On the floor, Honey batted at fingers that had gone numb from the chill of the apartment hours before. The body stirred and turned over; the hollowed cheeks pressed into a gap in the cushions. The sun cast shadows across the room that complimented splashes of yellow light. Rosy lips parted only when she yawned; blue eyes fluttered open to see emptiness.

With a deep breath, Rue heaved herself upward, swinging her legs off the couch and pressing her toes to the rough carpet. Honey cried for her attention, rubbing against her legs. Absently, Rue smoothed the cat's fur as she looked around at the stacks of boxes and bags. This was the place it all began—the friendships, the careers, the failures. It was time to leave. Perhaps a change of scenery would erase the empty feeling in her heart that recalled to her every memory that painted these walls a dismal shade of gray as they faded away. 

Stretching her arms over her head, Rue pulled on her jacket and her shoes. She'd worn the clothes she needed for today to bed knowing full well how hard it would be to get up in the morning. Ten thirty. They should be here any minute. With a sigh, she stood and paced through the apartment, checking every nook and cranny for anything might've missed. Finding only a sock that she wasn't entirely sure was hers under the washer, she returned to the couch and slouched, ignoring the ache in her back. For the first time in three days, her eyes were dry, and she felt... okay. She felt pretty okay, actually. A firm knock on her door brought her back to her feet.

"Moving order for Miss Rue Corden?" the man asked, looking to be about in his mid-forties. She nodded, stepping aside and opening the door wider. He walked inside, followed by three younger men.

"That's me."

"This ain't half bad," one of the others said in a thick accent. He turned back to Rue. "What's yours other than the boxes? These tables and the couch?"

"And my bed, but yeah. That's all."

"Sweet, this'll take no time at all." He turned back to the older man to whom she'd first spoken. "Can we hit the arcade after, Pa?"

"We'll see," the man huffed, jerking his head toward her coffee table. "We don't you guys tackle some of that stuff and me 'n Nate'll hit up the bigger #$%^?"

"Alright."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Rue asked, jamming her hands into her pockets. He shrugged, scratching at his thin beard.

"Just bringin' down boxes would save time. Don't hurt yourself, though."

"I won't," she reassured him, reaching for a lighter stack of containers containing random odds and ends she'd discovered and hadn't had the heart to categorize. "Just set them outside the truck?"

"If you could."

She nodded, nudging Honey into the bathroom and shutting the door to keep the cat from escaping. With quick steps, she hurried down the stairs to the lobby and left the building to see the large moving truck parked in the back lot with the back wide open. She prayed that no one would steal her stuff if she left it behind, setting the boxes down on the pavement. The boys weren't far behind her with the coffee table. She thanked them and continued lugging boxes down the stairs. Some, like dishes, were heavy enough that she took the elevator and set them on the ground to give her tired bones a rest. Others she stacked high and took care not to drop them on her way outside. The whole process took less than an hour.

Rue stood inside her empty apartment, looking over the rooms with a strange feeling suppressing her heart. She hadn't seen it so bare since she moved in with her big dream of joining the Kingsglaive a little over a year before. It was hard to believe; somehow she never imagined leaving the place. It doesn't even look like my apartment, she thought. Guess that makes goodbye easier. The father of the three younger men approached her, adjusting his dirty baseball cap.