a home that rings with joy and laughter, with the ones that you love inside

[forthsofar]

There was nothing wrong, exactly, with the furniture in their new apartment. Some of it came with the unit, while others were ones Neil planned to bring one floor down from his old, smaller place. All serviceable, even if some of it was a little plain. It’s just that none of it was hers, a realization that only struck Rosie once her few belongings from the Home--all she had in the city, all she had in the world--were packed up in a dismally small amount of boxes in the corner of the dormitory, awaiting transport to Candlewood the next day.

She’d gone out then, intending only to spend an hour or so in the Törgt showroom--just to look around, to get some possible ideas for how to make the best of what they already had. But she’d found one piece, then another, and it had made so much sense to think about getting another bookshelf, and the desk chair in her bedroom wasn’t comfortable at all… Before long, Rosie had a slip of paper scribbled with product code numbers and a growing awareness of two things: she was about to spend a truly breathtaking amount of money, and she hadn’t the slightest idea how she was going to get any of the things she planned to buy home with her on the bus.

“You know, we offer a delivery service,” said one of the salespeople standing nearby; mostly out of helpfulness, Rosie hoped, than a slightly grasping desire to take advantage of her clearly overwhelmed state. Whatever the impetus, though, the suggestion was a good one, and she followed him to the counter, coming away a few minutes (and several hundred dollars) later with all her furniture ordered and a FLÅTTEPÄK delivery scheduled for tomorrow.

The next day, after completing the last of her discharge paperwork with Matron Robin and getting David’s help to move her few boxes from the Home to the apartment, Rosie settled in, listening for the sound of the buzzer as she made space for the things she’d so impulsively purchased. It took less time than she expected. Going to the door, she opened it wide, pausing at the sight that greeted her: not a hallway full of burly movers toting furniture, but one single, slightly weedy-looking deliveryman with a pushcart full of long, flat boxes.

“You Wilson?” he asked, starting to pull the dolly past her into the apartment. “Got your Törgt stuff, where’dya want it?”

“I think there’s been a mistake,” she said, utterly baffled as the man started piling the boxes in the middle of the living room floor. “I ordered...I ordered quite a lot of furniture, what is this? What are you doing?”

“Yeah, you got the FLÅTTEPÄK service, right? That’s this. Instructions should be in each box, hardware, everything you need.” Rosie froze, staring at him in disbelieving, dawning horror, and he snorted--a reaction she found more than a little distasteful even in the midst of everything else. “Most people have fun putting it all together. It’s one of those...like a bonding experience thing. Oh, and I’m gonna need a signature, kid.”

What could she do? She signed. And then, once he had taken his cart and gone, the door shut tightly behind him, Rosie went back to the stack of boxes and burst into hysterical, embarrassed laughter. Taking out her phone, she sat down on the floor, the boxes behind her, and took a selfie, texting it out to all her friends with a brief if frantic message: Does anyone know how to build furniture? Help!!!

Comments

[shadows_have_offended]

Neil was at work when the delivery happened, so he just came back to the apartment to find Rosie looking slightly bewildered, still in the middle of all her boxes. He knew the feeling. A couple of his things had been from Törgt as well, and so he'd quickly learned what it was you were getting.

He stood there in the doorway and breathed out a bit of a laugh after a second, while Mercy Beau came bounding over to greet him.

"I see you had fun shopping yesterday."

[awickedtime]

"I can't promise," says Nick, grinning as he sits on the floor with the instructions, studying the diagrams. Sometimes, the way mortals do things baffles him. "But I'm definitely willing to try. And will absolutely accept payment in the form of pizza."

[negative_feedback]

It's exactly the sort of text Regan needs. Spending time with Greta and Saoirse has felt strained. Maybe just for her, but there it is. She feels wrong around them right now, guilty and terrible, and even though Saoirse absolutely doesn't blame her, and has made that clear to her, Regan has a hard time looking at her.

Because it is her fault. Greta had been right about that, whether or not she'd said it outright.

So when she gets Rosie's text, she responds I can figure it out! and heads out of the cottage to make her way to Rosie's new place. Tinkering is a hobby of Regan's, so she doubts this will be difficult.

[lost_boy]

I had no idea what Rosie wanted me to do and I was a little angry that she had moved out of the Home. I recognized this was unfair, that she was allowed to have her own life and do what she wanted. Her having her own apartment now didn't mean we wouldn't see each other anymore, but I knew it meant we would see each other less and I didn't like that.

This was Peter's doing, too, I thought. I had lived with the other boys for such a long time that the very idea of living on my own turned my stomach and Rosie moving out only served to remind me that in a little over a year, I would have to do the same.

Still, she needed help and she was my friend, so went to the address she provided and knocked on the door.