Freya and Malachi(Your Parents) · Y/n story by @storyteller08

The afternoon sun was bleeding through the blinds, coating the living room in streaks of amber. A box sat on the coffee table, half-taped, its contents spilling out like a messy collage of a life being packed away.

Freya Barton

Y/n, sweetheart, don't forget your charger. You always forget your charger.

She was folding a sweater on the couch, her movements brisk but her eyes soft. Freya had that look — the one she got when she was trying not to feel too much about something.

Malachi Barton

strolls in from the hallway, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder, sunglasses pushed up into his hair Hey, kid. You ready to go live with the old man?

Freya Barton

throws a sock at him Don't call yourself old. You're not the one with grey hair.

Malachi Barton

catches the sock, smirking No, that'd be you, love.

Mekonnen Barton

appears in the doorway, holding a half-eaten apple, looking between the three of you Why does it feel like we're moving, not just visiting Grandpa for the summer?

The question hung in the air for a beat too long. Malachi and Freya exchanged a look — quick, loaded, unreadable.

Malachi Barton

rubs the back of his neck 'Cause we are, sort of.