Maybe home is nothing but two arms holding you tight when you're at your worst.

When Йосиф Kавинскы was five and his Tатко was just some petty criminal and his Майка was less of a junkie, when they still lived with his Баба in a small town near the Danube in Bulgaria, and his smile was childish with a little bit of mischief on the edges, and not his father’s, he would dream of light. 

He used to dream about stars and the Moon, they were so close he could touch them. He would dream about the forest filled with hundreds of fireflies, his favorite Digimon or some candy his Баба liked to make, about beautiful daffodils in the garden behind his house or Peter Pan’s Neverland.

When Йосиф Kавинскы was nine, he became Joseph Kavinsky, his father turned into a beast, his mother became a hole in his chest and they moved to USA, leaving behind Баба and her зеле ролки, his home and a bench he used to sit on and watch swans at the Danube. His smile turned into knife’s edges and his dreams crumbled into darkness. 

The time passed by and his stars burned and turned into dust, the Moon fell and shattered into cold stones, the forest lost its kindness and fireflies became demons with his father’s eyes, his eyes.  His favorite Digimon wasn’t there to keep the coldness away so the raging storm destroyed innocent daffodils and his kingdom became dragon’s nest.

When Joseph Kavinsky was ten, he met an Ukrainian boy with crooked smile, pale skin and freckles all over his cheeks and nose, with eyes so blue they made his heart hurt because they were a shade of the Danube's blue, a shadow of home.

His reality was a nightmare. His father was a murderer, his mother a ghost.

His dreams were a nightmare. Dragon was still there, lurking around. Demons were still there, terrifying and sharp, waiting for him.

His whole life was a nightmare, but when he was ten, he met an Ukrainian boy who had an accent worse than his, who made him smile for real and who, four months later, became his best friend.

When Joey was fourteen, he realized some things.

1) He didn’t know what love was.

2) Татко Kavinsky was someone who didn’t know what love was, either. And he didn’t really care. He was an evil man; some would call him a beast, a monster, a danger and having a son and a wife didn’t change that. Nothing could change an animal that’s wearing a violence under a beautiful face and a charming smile.

3) Майка Kavinsky was someone who didn't know what love was, too. She was an empty doll, cold and ruthless and having a son and a husband didn’t change that. She spent her time doing drugs and hiding behind closed doors.

4) He became friends with his demons and his dragon. It still rained and it was still dark when he looked at the sky, but it wasn’t cold, he noticed. It must be because dragon liked to burn things like he did.

( It’s definitely not because Proko would sometimes smile at him like he was magical, or because Proko’s eyes reminded him of home.  )

5) He didn’t know what love was, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t Proko’s reassuring touch, or his sharp cheekbones.

When K was fifteen, he kissed the boy. It was sweet and beautiful and everything opposite of him.

Proko’s lips tasted like beer and chocolate, and it drove K wild. His hands were in K’s hair and on his neck and K could swear he was in some kind of Heaven.

I am. K thought.

K’s reality was still ugly, he was still afraid of his father, still angry at his mother, but he had this pretty boy he could kiss and hold hand with and that made it bearable.

K’s dreams were still a nightmare. What he didn’t notice until he fell asleep at Proko’s side, their fingers intertwined and heads on the same pillow, was that there was a light in them.

The stars that were gone for so long twinkled weakly, the Moon’s pieces were all over the ground, but they shone weakly. What surprised him the most was his garden. Daffodils were there, like nothing happened, like they hadn’t been destroyed by the wind, the coldness. They were still beautiful, still smelled of home. His demons were running around, playing with his dragon and fireflies. God, how he missed them.

That was it. That was his reality and his dreamland. Mixture of beautiful things, light and his darkest thoughts.

He woke up with one daffodil in his hand and a small smile on his face. When the paralyze passed, he shifted around until he could see Proko’s sleeping form.

He thought about Proko’s blue eyes, right shade of the Danube, his warm hands and beautiful smile. His cheekbones, his gentle fingertips and the sound of his voice when he called out K’s name. He thought about daffodil in his hand and how Proko smelled just like them and he thought home.