UNORTHODOX | KAI PARKER

XXI. HOME.

Chapter 21

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I don't really believe that home is a place.

A physical place you can visit. Look around and absorb the familiar surroundings and just know. You're home.

Because I've spent the past month at home. Sure, spending more time in Portland, of all places, than I would've liked. On the road. But despite those days, I was technically home.

In Mystic Falls. Wandering through the familiar surroundings of the place I grew up. In the Salvatore Boarding House. A place that used to be my secondary home. Spending days on end lounging around the house in nothing but pyjamas. Flinging pieces of food at the brother's and cuddling up on the couch every night as the TV emanated a comforting blue glow in the darkness.

My secondary home. And then, after the incident— my primary one.

But I wasn't home. Despite the familiar interior of the house. Despite knowing my way around the town like the back of my hand. I wasn't home, because I didn't... feel home.

And that's what home is, I think.

A feeling.

And now— I'm home.

The morning was spent overcome with an abundance of feelings that solidified that emotion. Home is my baby brother's voice. Booming my name as he races up the stairs, tackling my half-asleep self in a bear hug. Home is the two of us almost falling off the bed in a fit of giggles. The distinctive smell of Jeremy's aftershave— the same one he's used since the age of fifteen, wafting up my nose.

Home is Bonnie joining soon after. Giving me the suspicion that the two are back together, but unable to find it in myself to be annoyed at the idea.

Home is all of us reuniting over breakfast in the vast kitchen of the Boarding House. Everyone, even Caroline, clad in our pj's. As if they were too excited, couldn't even fathom the idea of spending ten extra minutes to get dressed.

Home is the laughter, the teary-eyed snickers and the frivolous chatter over way too fucking much food. Revelling in the delight of finally all being together again.

But home, unfortunately, is also questions. Too many fucking questions.

Words of "Are you okay?" which I obviously appreciated. Nodding my head emphatically with a sincere response. But also words that settled as a dark pit in my stomach.

"Where's Kai?"

"What did he do?"

"Did he hurt you?"

"Is he going to hurt anyone else?"

"What do you want us to do about him?"

Home is also having to constantly over-explain myself. Which I've unfortunately become accustomed to. Barely even bothered by it anymore. Barely. The twinge of annoyance is still there, but just simmering. And I've learned to block it out. To turn the temperature down when it starts to bubble and boil.

And it took far too long to convince them that I'm actually telling the truth. That Kai didn't hurt me. Well, not really. Not enough to kill him over. And that he's not going to hurt anyone else. Wasn't really sure if I was telling them that, or myself, though. But I'm not sure why they assumed I would even lie about that. If someone actually hurt me, obviously I would tell my highly dangerous friends. I'm just a petty little fuck like that.