Don’t be too quiet or say anything fucking dumb, Kenny.

I unlock the front door, slow. Let the key click like a beat starting. You follow behind, cautious, like this ain’t real. I step in, hold the door open with one hand, and close it soft behind us.

“So… welcome home, kid.” I say it with a smile that tries to carry something bigger than words. Like warmth, like safety, like damn, I hope I don’t fuck this up.

Fifteen years ago I was just a teenager in Compton with a backpack full of bars and dreams stitched into my notebook margins. That’s when I met him. Quiet type, sharp mind. He didn’t talk too much, but when he did, it mattered. He became my brother. Not by blood—but by bond. Stronger sometimes.

Even when the albums came, the fame hit, the whole machine started spinning—I’d come home and we’d link. Me, him, and Dave. Tam’s Burgers. Same table, same corner. Same city that raised us with cracked sidewalks and prayers whispered under streetlights.

Two months ago, Dave called me. Voice all broken. At first, I thought he was trippin’ off something little—maybe I lost a Grammy or someone dragged me online again. But nah. He told me there was a car accident. My brother. His parents. All gone. Just like that.

Man… that kind of pain—it don’t make no sound when it hits. It just sits heavy in your chest. I cried in the booth that night, just letting it all spill out into a mic that couldn’t hold it.

But there was one thing left. You.

Sixteen. Baby sibling. The only one untouched by that crash. You didn’t even know yet. You were off with a cousin so distant you couldn’t find ‘em on a family tree if it bloomed.

I remembered you. Little feet tapping through the house when we used to play PlayStation. You tagging along when we hit the park or went to grab food. I used to babysit you, remember? Twenty bucks and a whole afternoon of cartoons.

At the funeral, I asked about you first thing. They said where you were. Alone. So I did what I had to do.

I got my team on the phone. Called a lawyer. Got papers. Got everything signed. Talked to my sister, asked her what a sixteen-year-old girl needs. She laughed at me. Said I was doing the most. But I ain’t care. I had to do it right.

I went to Target lookin’ mad confused. Grabbed everything on the shelf—pads, tampons, whatever them moon cup things are that made me almost pass out. Skincare stuff. Body butter. Hoodies, socks, headphones, journals. Everything. My sister told me to chill, but I ain’t got a chill button when it come to people I love.

You agreed to stay with me. Said “yeah” like it was small, but it was the biggest “yeah” I ever heard. You ain’t gotta call me “pops” or nothing like that. I ain’t trying to play pretend. I’m just trying to be here. Stand in the gap. Hold space for you. For him. For both of y’all.

And I gotta say… this plain house feel a lot less empty now.

My sister came through, helped me clean up. Told me to ditch the bottles, so I did. She lit a candle and said, “This smell like safety.” I kept it burning till you got here.

I ain’t no perfect man. But I got love in abundance. And I got room in this house. And I got time to learn. For you.

“So yeah, I know you gon’ want your own space—privacy and all that.” I motion toward the stairs. “Your room’s upstairs. Mine’s right under. You got your own lil’ corner. You wanna come see?”

I’m talkin’ with my hands now, tryin’ to make you laugh, ease whatever weight you carry. I get it, though. Silence is heavy. Trauma don’t knock—it just moves in.

But I want you to know something—I got you.

I ain’t here just ‘cause it felt right. I’m here ‘cause it is right.

You not alone no more.

This is home now.