k☆mi

Home. People say home is where the heart is. Home is the beacon in the dark, where the sight of it draws you towards familiarity. It’s where the scent of the most familiar scents spread through your lungs in a comfortable fill and its warmth engulfs you in its protection.

But a home like this, where the days are humid and dull during the warm weather, dry and dull in the cold—home doesn’t feel like home. It feels like the house in the corner of your mind, the little shack in your dreams that you’ll forget by the time you open your eyes.

Not to say you hated your house. Sitting worn but a pretty little thing at the top of the town’s hill, with its broken picket fences and little dainty garden.

Its walls have seen better days, worn down by time and sunlight—what might’ve been a pretty butter yellow was now something more pale and sickly. The windowsills have been cracking and peeling, and your door has that creak that always alerts someone entering and exiting. 

If that wasn’t enough, the doorknob sometimes jammed and you’d have to spend the next few minutes wrestling with it like a fool.

Was it extravagant? No, nothing like those sky tall apartment complexes where city girls go back to after their busy days of cafe shops and boutiques. Oh, how’d you love to experience that. A sleeker hairstyle with a sleeker outfit, a nice purse on your shoulder and a coffee in hand you had acquired from some overpriced cafe.

But it was yours. Your tiny little house, the one that creaks and wails, the one that needs proper TLC. The one you go back to after a day of hauling books and groceries—making small pocket change by helping your neighbors around. Instead of a sleek maxi dress, you’d dress in those cute sundresses with your old brown boots, a cloth bag to carry the necessities and more. 

You always tried to pretty yourself up though. While you didn’t have designer stores or cute thrifts, you had a sweet little boutique owned by that little old lady and her husband you’ve known since you were a child. And accessories weren’t glamorous, but you couldn’t go wrong with a headband and your favorite pair of little earrings with that heart locket your papa gave you on your tenth birthday.

You and your pa lived in that house, and when you were away—he was holding fort on your rickety porch. When he was gone doing work, you were around the house keeping it tidy.

Chores around the town, chores around the home—this whole town had become a routine. A constant chore. All the whimsy and excitement that you had growing up had mellowed out, and while you loved the town, you knew you were a bird that’s stayed in the nest too long.

But your pa needs you, with his bad leg and all—and you cared too much with your big heart to leave him. And if not him, what about the others?

Mrs Johnson with her flowers, Mr Nolan with his books, Mason with his deliveries. If you left, who would help them?

So the only thing you could rely on for excitement was the gossip around town. The people too were bored, and when people get bored, they tend to talk.

And talk they did.

“Did ya hear? Someone moved into Marlon’s old lil’ home.” 

Your ears perk from the aisle over, recognizing Mrs Smith’s whispering instantly. You were on an errand run for your pa and you—a pack of cigarettes for him, something sweet for you.

“You’re kiddin’! What chump wants to move into this desolate town?” A shrill voice of Nancy, the gas station owner’s wife, questions. 

Yeah, you thought while leaning against the shelves a bit. Who would want to move here? How’d anyone know about here anyways?

Your small town was out of the way from usual roads, and on rare occasions there would be stranded drivers in need of directions or a fixed tire, but you never had experienced anyone moving in this time around.

“He’s rather fine, Nancy. A reaaaal hunk, tall and toned like that,” Mrs Smith coos and your nose crinkles a bit. She always had a loose mouth for a married woman. “But you know what they say. Them pretty men always got something shady going on.” Do they?

You wouldn’t know, never really dated, let alone been on flirty terms with the opposite sex. Most of the boys you grew up with were like brothers to you. Maybe there was Mason, a little crush here and there when growing up, but nothing you really had that was budding.

And your pa was always against boys trying for your hand, a man was even farther out of the question.

Mrs. Smith’s assumption boggles your mind, trying to imagine a delinquent or a con man from how she vaguely describes him.

“Honey, you gon’ buy anythin’?” Nancy questions from the counter, unaware of your eavesdropping. Straightening up, you grab a pack of malboros and some powdered donuts before making your way towards the counter.

Setting your things down, you slide your hand into your bag, fishing out the couple of bucks you had. You brought enough for the two items, having memorized the price the fifth time you were sent to get something. That was nearly a decade ago, maybe more—being in your twenties now.

Nancy doesn’t ask if that’s all, she knows by now the same dance and song. Ringing you up, she passes you an extra pack of cigs for your pa and you pocket it without a word, ready to take your leave.

“Hey, hun.” Nancy calls out before you can leave, making you turn around with big bunny eyes. “Yeah?” You respond automatically, the older woman lighting her own cigarette, the butt of it burning an amber orange.

She takes a slow drag. Takes a moment to let the smoke curl around her tongue before she blows it out. “If you see the new guy, best be careful, ok hun?”

You shift, one foot to another. “Yes ma’am.” She nods then, sending you off back to your little house. 

The hill is no feat to you anymore unless you’re carrying something heavy. The path is familiar, as it always is. 

The new guy.

That was unfamiliar. Like a new species in the ecosystem, but you’re unsure what type. All you know that it’s caused the town to shift, to talk.

And you? With all things unfamiliar, know you should be wary. And it wasn’t like Nancy was saying things to start something, at least not with you. Not with the younger folk, especially young women like you—naive and stupid.

Curious.

You were curious.

That little inkling that had planted itself like a seed the moment you listened in on the older women's conversations had sprouted as you continued up the hill.

The old Marlon’s house was just a right turn, off your usual straight road. It was rather isolated, nothing far from the others, but Marlon always liked to have his own big plot of land. An old veteran that enjoyed the peace of things before his passing.

You still recall the times your pa and him would share stories, not that your pa was a soldier. But he had a respect for men that could lay their lives down for a cause—like a good American man should. In his words, at least.

And Marlon’s house, once lived in, then untouched—was now being lived in once more. The overgrown weeds and moss have been pruned out, not the entirety of them, but a good portion.

Besides’ Marlon’s old broken down truck was another one, just as rugged but more maintained, cleaner.

The stones under your boots brunch, coming to a slow stop at the pebbled walkway towards his porch.

It… feels uncanny. Seeing the home of another you remembered so clearly… no longer his.

But you don’t linger long, especially since you couldn’t see any sign of new life outside, and there was no possible way you’d stick around waiting like a nosy creep.

So you continue home from that way.

You went the same way again. This time not for Malboros and sweets, heavy flour bags pressed against your chest, sweat trickling down your bare skin. Ms. Madison had given you the couple extras she didn’t need after you helped with her cats. And you eagerly accepted them, deciding you could use it for baking some time later.

Today, you wore a thin white blouse, the kind with short sleeves and small lace lining, with denim shorts. Your typical boots donned, with your hair pinned back–but it couldn’t stop the wind from pushing at it, making strands cling to your cheeks and forehead.

It was hot today, like it had been the past few days–and the heat was unbearable, like usual. Clothes sticking to your body and the sweltering heat adding invisible weight to the heavy bags you were carrying. 

You don’t know why you had taken the right towards old Marlon’s house (if you can even keep calling it that), but curiosity had got you again.

Before you had left Ms. Madison’s place, her husband was there too. A lovely couple, but they often liked to butt their noses into things like the rest of the town. The both of them talking about the mysterious neighbor, when Mr. Madison came up with the most peculiar theories as to why he had come into this small town.

”I reckon’ he’s a veteran with muscles like that, and a gaze that holds many stories… or secrets, if y’know what I mean.” You’re not superficial, but the sound of muscles was intriguing. And secrets? That wasn’t anyone’s business but the stranger’s. But in a town this small, might as well be everyone’s.

”Or… get this,” “Oh, Stan, you best not be saying a bunch of nonsense now.” “No, listen! He could be a crook. Some criminal tryna start fresh! Would explain why he’s so… eerie, on the run and such.”

You had listened in for a bit before making your leave. And now you’re here.

Passing by old Marlon’s house. At least, you should be passing. But you stop at the dirt path once more, leading to the steps of the porch. 

You should go. You definitely should. No one wants some weird girl standing at the front of their house, especially someone who supposedly kept to himself. But before you turn, you watch the door open, and you freeze immediately. Squeezing the bags against your chest tighter, you watch as a man steps out.

He’s much older than you, probably double your age–if the faint wrinkles and strands of grey hair were a telltale. Dressed in a simple black tee that hugged his toned biceps, dark jeans that shaped his thick thighs. A simple outfit, yet… why was it doing something to you? You’ve seen plenty of older men, this whole town had them around and about. And maybe like the boys, there were a few childhood crushes–but those were silly. Those weren’t meant to stick, nor was it actual feelings–just childish admiration. 

But the man in front of you, was one you hadn’t grown up seeing around often. A new face, one with a nice jaw–a stubble across it, with a droopy set of dark eyes. He looked… every bit of handsome, in a simple way. Not the kind of man you’d see in a magazine, but the kind you would give a double take walking past.

And you can’t help but stare, knowing you shouldn’t. He doesn’t seem to mind though. “Morning.” He greets, a small smile tugging on his lips. His voice is nice. It’s not too deep and rumbly, but not too high– it sits nicely. It suits him. Almost like honey with a slight rasp. “You’re that girl from yesterday, caught you staring from the window.

That made your cheeks flush in embarrassment, his casual tone to call you out. It’s not supposed to make you feel like you’ve done something wrong, but you still feel like you had.

“Sorry,” You start with a strained voice, clearing your throat to continue. “I was– um…” He seems to get it instantly. “Curious?” He finishes the sentence for you and you nod. He lets out a small snort of a laugh, and it’s nice too. “Figures, the rest of the folks are the same way. Not exactly too quiet about it like you are.” You don’t say anything else. You didn’t feel the need to defend yourself, because he was right–you thought it too. This town was full of nosy people, you included. The man leans against his railing, his arms crossed on top. It makes his biceps flex a bit, and you can’t help but appreciate how it stretches the cotton around it. “Cat got your tongue, missy?” He questions. You don’t respond again, but your lips part this time.

Only then, when you realize you probably look a little foolish, standing and staring when he’s addressing you, do you speak again. 

“No sir,” You manage. “I was just… I wanted to say hi.” 

He seems to like that, but you couldn’t tell–he seems to keep that easy smile on like it was natural. “Hi yourself.” You like that he’s sort of playful, if that was his intention. “I’m Brian.” Brian. 

You like that name. Easy to remember to go with a face that was a bit hard to forget. Brian. You give him your own, though it comes out a bit shaky, like you’re not used to introducing yourself. And now that you think about it, you weren’t.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Brian.” You greet politely, shifting on your boots. They’re starting to pinch at your heels and toes after being in them almost all morning. 

Brian continues leaning against the railing, but his hand comes to his pocket to fish something out. It’s an open pack of cigarettes, the Winston brand. He doesn’t light it yet, just rolling it against the pads of his fingers, like he’s being mindful that you’re around. You don’t mind though. You’ve gotten used to that kind of smell, the nicotine that wraps around your lungs even if you’re not the one smoking it. Your dad tries to be mindful too, always smoking in the backyard, but cigarette smoke has a way of lingering even over time once there’s been one too many lit.

You start to talk again, your eyes lifting from his fingers to glance at his face. “I was surprised,” You clear your throat, trying to clear out the nerves in your throat. “Surprised to hear someone had moved in. Pretty isolated town, not many notice it–not even on modern maps, last I heard.” “Is it now?” Brian doesn’t seem too worried about it. In fact, the hum that follows makes it seem like he’s quite content with the notion of it. Living off the grid and the only people knowing of his existence are the very people residing in the town. 

You wondered if anyone knew he moved here. Wondered if there was anyone else out there that knew of him at all. Would they come visit? Or did he really cut off all ties with whomever to start anew, like Mr. Madison had suggested? “It is,” You respond, licking your dry lips. “How’d you find out about this place?” You can’t help the curiosity eat at you, like you were the cat that needed to pry its nose into businesses it doesn’t belong in. And you were asking what everyone else was thinking, even if you didn’t word it verbatim. Why did he move here? Brian’s eyes are on you. A gaze so slow, you wondered if he was eyeing you in interest or calculation. Like he was deciding if you were worth entertaining or not. “Curious?” “Very.” You sounded a bit eager, your cheeks becoming flushed. “Um…everyone is, really.” He chuckles, and you like how it sounds. You like a lot of things about him so far, albeit a bit superficial. The older ladies were right, he is fine. “So I noticed.” He’s amused. Amused by the way, out of everyone in this town–it’s you that’s asking him the same question, but with no intention to gossip. 

But you’re naive and innocent. You don’t want answers to share with others, you want answers for yourself. To sate your own curiosity about him, about the strange man who’s now living in your former neighbor’s home. 

“You gonna tell anyone?” He asks, crossing his foot over the other casually. “Should I not?” You ask back.

“You could,” Brian says with that same easy going smile, but it’s a little toothier, and you can see the little gap between his two front teeth. It’s endearing. He seems even more amused, with how your question sounds a bit more submissive than challenging. “But I prefer keeping to myself. And I figured a town like yours don’t want people like me messing up the ecosystem. Makes it easier for everyone.”

You purse your lips at that. You weren’t sure if you could understand his reasoning, but you suppose you can respect a man wanting to be kept alone. Marlon was the same. 

“Ok, I won’t tell,” You assure. “I can keep a secret.” He laughs then, and your stomach flips. “Wasn’t trying to tell secrets, but good to know.” You really like him so far, and you hardly know him. Granted, this is your first interaction, but even so, it felt like he was dancing around answers.

Brian’s eyes are on you. A gaze so slow, you feel hot under his gaze. You’re unsure what emotion it was, but hot was the only way to describe it. He answers, finally.

“I’m a friend of the last owner’s son.”

You perk at the mention of Marlon. Of his son, specifically It was like him moving in had unlocked a can of worms for you and your memories. Marlon’s son… What was his name… Reid? 

You recall the guy. He was much older than you back then, so you were never really close to him. You just recalled he was living with Marlon for some time, until he upped and disappeared. 

It was your sixteenth birthday when you had last seen Reid. And thinking about it now, that was also when old Marlon stopped coming out of his house more and more. The town figured Reid got too tired of the quiet life and skipped to the next town or city after an argument with his dad, considering no one could get proper answers from Marlon. Reid would be around Brian’s age for sure, maybe a little younger or so.

Actually… What did happen to Marlon before he passed? You suddenly feel like that part of your memory was fuzzy. But maybe now is a bad time to try and recollect old memories.

“Reid, so he is ok?” You ask, feeling that blossom of curiosity take the form of a flower in your stomach. You had so many questions of your own regarding the man in front of you, and with this new found information, you feel like you’re nowhere close to figuring him out.

But it was only your first interaction, so you suppose it only made sense.

Brian lets your question sit, tongue against teeth momentarily before he answers, “He’s been alright. Busy with life. Told him I needed a break with mine and he suggested this town.” He waves his hand lazily across the field. “Jus’ din’ expect to tidy up the place as soon as I got here. This whole home needs some proper maintenance.”  

You giggle a bit at that. “Yeah, well… we sort of left it that way after… um… the old owner’s passing.” And he hums, “I figured. Is a shame.” The two of you fall into silence, and you suddenly start to remember the heavy weight in your arms. They’re going to be sore by tomorrow, you could tell by how they’ve gone nearly numb after the burn in your muscles. And while you can still hold them up without much of an issue, you should still head back home soon.

“I should… go now.” You announce, but you can’t help but feel slightly disappointed at that. You sort of wish you weren’t holding bags of flours–and maybe then you wouldn’t have to worry about getting home soon. Then again, you can’t be out for too long without pa getting worried.

Brian doesn’t question why you’re leaving so soon. Instead, he straightens himself up, ready to come down to help you. “Need any help with that?” He asks, about to make the step but you shake your head. “It’s fine! My house is just up the hill, I’m used to carryin’ things up and down it.”

“Are you sure? Can’t have a little lady like yourself strainin’.” He tries offering once more, but you shake your head harder. “Really!” You, for some reason, now feel like you can prove you can do it. It was just two bags, but you’re flattered he was willing despite just meeting. He was a gentleman.

“Well, then it was nice meeting you, little lady.” Brian says, leaning back against the railing, giving you that nice smile with the little gap. “Don’t be a stranger. Maybe when you’re not hauling things, come see me, yeah?” There’s something about him asking specifically for you, for your return, that makes you suddenly giddy. “Yes, sir–I-I can come back.” He likes that answer, “Atta girl. See you then.” It’s you who takes the turn to leave, continuing your way up the dirt path and up the hill. And despite your back turned to him, you can feel his eyes still on you, your arms clutching at the flour tighter.

As soon as you make it home, your boots come off first. Your arms are crying for rest and you grant it relief by dropping the bags onto the kitchen floor, near the other bags. “Kid, is that you?” Your pa calls out from the living room. He’s watching tv. You can hear it from where you stand, wiping the sweat off your forehead. “I’m home, papa!” You answer, shedding off your socks, your feet red and nipped in a few places from your worn boots. You’ll bandage them after your shower. Right now, they burn–aching from the busy day, aching from standing for so long while talking to Brian. Brian. You recall that he noticed you from the day before. Even if he hadn’t talked to you then, he noticed you outside his home. Suddenly, the realization that he’d seen you before you’d seen him makes you queasy. You’re not sure if you dislike it though.

“Mrs. Madison gave me some flour, pa.” You say, making your way into the living room. It’s small and a bit cramped, but it’s decorated just the way you like it. Your pa had always emphasized the idea of a home needing a woman’s touch, you remember how he’d joke if it were up to him, the whole house would be decorated like a bar.

You stand behind the couch, getting a glimpse of the tv. It’s his favorite game show, the same one he always makes sure to catch. “I’ll probably bake tomorrow, if you’d want anything.” Apple scones, maybe butterscotch pie–pa’s favorite was whatever you made.

“Yeah? That’d be nice, kid.” He gives you a wrinkled smile, reaching a hand out to pat yours that rest on the top of the couch. “Just don’t go too crazy, ya hear? I ain’t dyin’ to no heart attack.” You smile back, “No promises, papa.” You joke.

And you’re ready to head up to shower, but your pa calls out. “By the way, what took you so long?” He asks. There’s no room for anger in his voice, curious and a bit skeptical. “You’re normally back earlier, I was a little worried.” You look out the window to realize the sun had already been setting. You had been out for longer than expected. 

“Mrs. Madison wanted me to help with her cats.” You say, unsure if you should even bring up your encounter with Brian. Pa always went on edge at the mention of strangers, or boys in any manner. “Mr. Madison was there too, and I guess I got carried away talking with them after.” Pa grunts, “That’ll do it, that chatty couple. Well, if they’re havin’ ya carry heavy stuff later in the day, least they can do is offer ya a ride.” You only hum in acknowledgement. “Well I’m gonna clean up and head to bed, papa.” You bid, heading up the steps. “Good night.” “Night, kid.”

Sleep came easier than you expected. Freshly clean and smelling sweet, you were dressed in your favorite pajamas after lathering on lotion and vaseline. 

Now, you were laying in bed, facing the window of your room. The lace curtain hardly blocks out anything, but all you can see from where you lay is the big white moon. It was always a pretty sight, falling asleep while growing up, and it still was.

After a busy day, you’re left tired and ready to fall asleep, but you can’t help but recount your meeting with the new neighbor. Brian.

Pulling the comforter closer to your face, you think about how he asked to see you again. How he smiled, how he leaned against his porch railing. The sound of his voice and his laugh–even if subtle. It was all nice. And you feel almost impatient to hear it all again, to see him again.

You’d be baking tomorrow. Maybe you can bring him something.

drew this after watching the anime Lol i colored it too but. i didnt rly like it. well. I didn’t really like the anime too LOL

another attempt I colroed it but. I juzt didtn fw It Bye sorry anime ntflix dnte…….

dmc 3 donties :-] I miss yew…… need to replay da game after my finalz (I got work tew do…)

vergil appearance….. and the unfinished dmc3 dante

dmc1 Dante doodles I made when I replayed da game……. I miss Him……. I always miss dante LOL