The ride to Warren's house was a quiet one but not the awkward kind. He let me play my favourite songs and played his playlist for me when I was done. His taste in music wasn't exactly my cup of tea but I didn't tell him that. 

When we got to his place, I was pleasantly surprised. His house wasn't too big, it was relatively small but appeared to be tidy from the outside. After he had parked the car, he walked over behind me and nudged me with his elbow. I looked over at him. "Go ahead. The house isn't going to eat you up, you know?"

I nodded and walked over to the veranda before cautiously opening the door and stepping inside. I allowed myself to register my surroundings. The room was ventilated by an air conditioner in the corner and a ceiling fan in the middle of the living room. The walls had been painted a pale blue colour. The walls had several framed family photographs placed in an orderly manner and the mantel of the fireplace had an antique candlestick on top of it. 

The house was warm. Warm and welcoming. 

"Welcome to my humble abode."

Upon hearing the door open, an elderly woman rushed to the living room before spotting us.

Yellow.

 She looked familiar. 

"That's my aunt," Warren stated. "The one from the picture I sent you."

She smiled at me before extending her hand in my direction. I shook her hand, ignoring the waves of television static that that simple form of skin contact sent cascading through my veins. I was grateful that the handshake lasted barely a second. 

"Aunty, this is Juno."

"What a lovely name, it's a pleasure to have you."

I gave her a small smile before following Warren into his room through the maze that happened to be his abode. I found myself getting distracted by the simplest things on my way there - particularly the creaking sound the stairs made, the sound of pipes from within the walls, the torn wallpaper, the cobwebs. 

"It's not too neat, I'm sorry," he laughed, embarrassed. "I didn't have much time to clean before you came."

"Don't apologize. My place is worse."

He laughed and looked back at me for a brief second, "I seriously doubt that." 

We stopped in front of an old wooden door. He pushed it open and the screeching sound made me want to rip my ears out. I didn't complain. I shut the door behind us and looked around. His room was fairly small. He had a small bed in the corner of the room with a suitcase on top of it; a bunch of clothes stacked on the floor; a guitar hanging on the wall right above his bed beside a poster of a rock band and, last but definitely not least, Bruno. His room smelled nice. It was the smell of vanilla. 

He struggled to make his way to the suitcase through the mess on the floor. I followed close behind, nearly falling on my face about a dozen times on our way to the bed. 

"Sit," he instructed. I obeyed.

"Okay, I think we should start off with the clothes. I have a lot."

"I can tell."

He bent down to collect a handful of clothes before throwing them onto the bed. He repeated this until all the clothes were off the floor and instead, on the bed ,in a large pile, resembling a mountain. 

"This is going to take a while."

"How about we talk about stuff while we fold the clothes?" I offered. "There are some things I want to get off my chest anyway."

"Oh?"

"That sounded ominous," I noted. "I just need someone to vent to about something. Is that okay?"

"I'm glad you trust me enough," he smiled, beginning to fold a few clothes of his. "I'm all ears."

I followed his lead and grabbed a shirt before folding it neatly and placing it aside, "My dad is getting married to my dead mom's sister." I glanced at him to make a note of his reaction. He furrowed his brows - not in anger, but confusion - and paused for a moment, "Come again?"

"Yeah," I sighed. "He told me a few hours earlier. She's pregnant with his kid."

"Dude's been sleeping with his dead wife's sister?" he questioned. "That's.. something." I sensed he didn't want to say something offensive about my father and I was thankful for this. He was probably thinking all sorts of things about my father in his head but he didn't voice any of them. 

"Can't believe I'm going to have a sibling at thirty," I snorted. "They were thinking of putting the baby up for adoption but I guess they changed their mind."

He was silent for a moment.

"What was your mother like?"

"I don't know. Never met her. Yours?"

"She was a-"

"A lovely woman?" I finished for him. 

He looked over at me and smiled before shaking his head, "A lovely woman indeed."