when a house is no longer a home
title: when a house is no longer a home
word count: 292
home is supposed to be the place you grow up in; the place full of warm, family filled memories. it’s supposed to be the place where you can retreat to in order to get away from the chaotic battleground outside, where you can feel safe from any danger and no one can hurt you there. the one place where you can leave everything behind and lock it out.
but what do you do when your house was never a home to begin with? when the family memories are non-existent or you begin to feel alienated in the one place where you were only yourself and no one else? what if home, or what used to be home is more chaotic than the outside world? what then?
when your house is no longer a home, how do you find somewhere else to make your home?
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saying she smelled like home would be widely inaccurate. he’s still at that stage when he doesn’t know where he can call home, let alone know the smell of whatever place. how could she smell like home?
he may be homeless, but he’s not houseless or loveless, so maybe he could do something about that.
she’s small and fragile next to him, but her words are powerful enough to construct a barrier around him, which he can retreat to at any hour of the day. but he knows that he has yet to grow with her and he has yet to create a sufficient amount of memories, even though the ones they have to far are so, so promising.
she’s not home now, but she smells comforting and familiar and he figures that’s what a home should smell like, so maybe, one day, she’ll be just that.