lesandra | [5] Character Study

Prompt: Muse Revival #139
Wish + "For the two of us, home isn't a place. It is a person. And we are finally home." - Stephanie Perkins

[TW: child neglect/abuse]

I suppose it should go without saying by now that my early life wasn’t exactly sunshine and daisies.

Once I met Scott, things got better. I had someone who looked out for me and didn’t belittle me. Someone I could rely on to be there. Someone who actually cared.

For once.

Though, that took a bit of time to realize and to get used to.

As we got older, the best nights were the ones where we’d sneak out and meet up at either the park or one of our backyards, lay out a blanket, and stare up at the sky. We’d talk about whatever was on our minds as we stared at the few brightest stars that made it through the light and haze from the neighborhood.

The stars we saw often, we started to name silly things or band names that we were starting to like – as children do. Sure, they had real names but that didn’t really matter to us then. It was our time to escape from “home”, make silly wishes, and think about what life would be like anywhere else.

Some nights, if we were lucky, we’d share a little picnic of snack cakes, pepperoni, and some chips.

Usually, it was whatever Scott could take from his house or steal from the little bodega down the street. I say ‘steal’ but I think the older woman at the bodega let him take them because she knew he didn’t have much. She’d always make a show of it when we’d go in together, but I swear one day I saw her give us a look like she wished there was more she could do.

As the years went on and we were spending more time at Don’s or one of the other’s (anywhere was better than our “parents”), we didn’t have to sneak out and look up at the stars nearly as much.

At least, not as a way to escape from the hell hole of our “homes”.

Whenever things started to feel strained and we didn’t feel like we were communicating (usually by me yelling at him for being disrespectful or ignoring him or vice versa), he’d suggest having a picnic and we’d sit outside under the stars and we’d talk. We’d apologize, clear the air of whatever was bothering us and take comfort in each other again.

Things were always better after that.

During our senior year, we finally decided it was time to cut the ties from our “families”. Don had officially invited us to move in (though we were staying there more than anywhere) and we took him up on it. During Christmas break, Austin took us to our houses (knowing we’d appreciate the backup), and we packed whatever was left.

It was one of the hardest and most liberating things we’ve done.

My “parents” were passed out and didn’t notice me coming in or leaving with my things. I left the key behind and never looked back.

His on the other hand was a different story. His “dad” punched him in a drunken haze and called me every name under the sun. It wasn’t the first time he’d called me names, but it was the last time. I remember punching him and kicking him... I guess taking out every single hurt that he’d given to Scott or me over the years. Austin had to pull me off him once he went down for the count.

I don't remember it but Austin drove us home after that with Scott and me in the backseat, wrapped up together – needing that comfort and knowing it was over. That evening, we spent in the back seat of his car with a makeshift picnic and a bag of frozen peas for Scott’s eye.

It was while we were sitting there in the cramped seat, thankful that we were finally done with them, that I truly realized something that had been staring me in the face since the age of three. Although we’d never had a “home” before with our “parents”, Scott had become and been my home for longer than I ever realized.

He was the one person I always turned to when there was an issue (unless it was about him) or the person I always wanted to share something with that I thought was amazing.

Scott was the one I’d unknowingly wished for all those years ago.

We shared our first kiss that night.

(714 words)