Dragonfly 1
Summary: a new neighbour moves in and changes everything.
Character: Frank Castle
Warnings: dubcon, noncon, NSFW. This is a dark drabble like most of my stuff so take this as your warning to stop reading.
Part of the Trailer Park AU
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You stand by the curtain, wiggling your nose as the dust tickles up to your brain. You pinch your nostrils and your shoulders jerk as you hold back a sneeze. You blink away the glaze of tears and exhale carefully. You don’t know if the layer of dust woven into the old drapes or the pollen drifting in with the afternoon breeze.
You hum beneath the vinyl melody, not daring to interrupt the smooth soulful croon of Sam Cooke.
I go to the movies and I go downtownSomebody keep tellin’ me don’t hang aroundIt’s been a long, a long time comingBut I know a change’s gonna come, oh yes it will
The only other noise is the fan whirring back and forth on its axel and your grandmother’s crochet hooks meeting between loops. You let your hand slip from your nose and continue your silent observation of the neighbourhood. One, in particular.
There’s a new resident. He’s right next door. From the window, you can see him at the back bumper of his truck. Now and then, he carries a box to the front door or hauls something around the side, almost right in front of you.
He has a growly look to him. Black hair, black beard, eyes covered by dark black lenses. You imagine those are just as dark. The sleeves of his tee shirt are rolled up above his biceps, a band logo you don’t know stretched across his chest, and his jeans dusty from the gravel.
“What’re you lookin’ at?” Your grandma asks. “That dang squirrel back?”
“No, gram,” you turn, shielding your answer from the window. “I’m just lookin’.”
“Uh huh. Just lookin’.” She leans back in the lawn chair she has you drag in and out whenever she feels like. She furls her brows at the blanket square. “You’re hovering over there like an insect. Makin’ me itchy.”
“Sorry…” you turn back and grab onto the curtain again.
The man stomps up between your trailers. Before you can shut him out, your eyes sting and your nose speckles. You sneeze before you can stop yourself. He stops and looks at you. Not wincing, just staring. Your eyes go wide and you close the curtains with a sharp tug.
You turn and sniff. Your grandmother mutters to her crotchet hooks. You squeeze between her chair and the wall to get to the kitchen. It’s not quite separate from the rest of the place. You rinse your hands as the next track begins.
“Hey, gram,” you dry your hands off and hang the cloth. You turn and shuffle closer to her. “There’s a new neighbour.”
“Always some new ones.” She shakes her head. “Remember that one and his wife. Hollerin’ all night long.”
“Um, I think.”
“And the one with all those brats. They broke my flower pots.” She clucks and shakes her head.
“Yeah…” you trail off.
You back up and go to your corner. There’s a folding chair and TV tray there. You make little ornaments. You find glass bottles in other people’s bins and boil them before you smash them all up and turn them into pretty butterflies or sparrows. Sometimes you even cut up aluminum cans to add extra sparkle.
You want to try to sell them but grandma says no one wants trash.
You shrug and reach into your little box of creatures. You take out the blue and green dragonfly made of beer liquor bottles. It’s a really nice one.
“I’m gonna go water the flowers,” you stand up straight.
“Don’t forget the morning glories.” She chides.
“I won’t,” you promise.
You hide the dragonfly behind your hip as you stop to step into your shoes. You glance at your grandma. She’s fussing at her crochet too much to care. You wonder if she would notice if you just went and didn’t say anything.
You go out into the sunlight. It’s much hotter than you expect, even if it’s not much better inside. You sweat in your circle skirt and tee shirt. Your aunt passed them down a few years ago.
You sit on the steps and examine the dragonfly. It sparkles in the sun. You slowly peek over at the man as he shuts the back of his truck with a big clank. You jolt.
It’s no fun not knowing anyone. You would know. You stand up and your stomach does a somersault. You’re just being friendly. People do that, give gifts to neighbours. Maybe this one won’t be so bad.
You near the man as he takes off his sunglasses and mops his forehead. He flicks back a thick shank of his black hair, silver glimmering through. You drag your feet as you slow with second thoughts. It’s too late, he noticed you.
He hooks the arm of the sunglasses on his collar and folds them. His thick brow lowers over his brown eyes. The lines of his face add to the grizzliness of his expression. You gulp.
“I ain’t over the line, am I?” He lines up his hand with the bed of his truck.
You look back and forth. You shake your head. “I don’t think so.”
He squints and his shoulders slant. He shifts and cups his ear towards you. “Gotta speak up.
“No,” you shake your head harder then look down at the glass bug. Oh. “Sorry, I… I…” You lean back on your heel.
“What’s at?” He points to the dragonfly. You hunch and hold it out. “You make that?”
You nod. You can’t speak. You don’t know why you do this. You think you might make a friend then you choke.
“Dragonfly, huh?” He says.
You nod again.
“Used to see huge ones down south.” He grits. “Size of your hand… nah, mine.” He spreads out his thick, long fingers.
You make yourself look at him and blink. He doesn’t look any happier but his voice isn’t so harsh.
“Wow.” That’s all you got.
“Well, thanks for showin’ me. It’s real nice.” He says.
You frown. You sway and push the dragonfly towards him. “It’s for you.”
“Me?” He motions to himself with his knuckle.
“Yeah. Cause… it’s… nice. You’re… new?” You eke out dumbly.
“Right, right,” he steps closer and gently takes the little wire loop at the dragonfly’s head. “Look real good on the front door, huh?”
“I… guess.” You let go. He lifts it up and admires it in the sunlight.
“It’s real nice–”
You cover your face all at once. You keep both hands over your eyes and spin, blindly rushing back to the steps of the trailer. You scramble up, tripping, then haul open the door before hurling yourself inside.
What is wrong with you? Why can’t you just be normal? Even compared to grandma, you’re a weirdo, and she talks to the birds.
