Below The Belt

Round 23

Tyreek's POV

Neither of us spoke much after we talked about our pasts. We didn't judge each other or our upbringings or the decisions we made. I thought that maybe he'd be mad that I kind of lied about my identity, but he didn't bring it up.

I never really considered it lying, anyway. Tyreek Amore Reign was a baby born into a loving household with two caring parents. Tyreek "Pretty Boy" Nixon was a teenager who had to leave everything behind because his parents decided to ruin their own lives and his. Tyreek Nixon was a young man surviving in the streets, constantly afraid that he'd be found and killed one day for reasons beyond him. Tyreek Nixon was the heavyweight champion of the underground. Tyreek Nixon was in love with DeAndre Kingston. Tyreek Nixon was the rising WBO star.

That was Tyreek Nixon. Not Tyreek Reign. That kid was buried a long time ago.

"Ion know what they want from me." I whispered as DeAndre rubbed my head. "I ain't ever did shit to them. They hurt me and I ran, and they told people I stole from them. They hurt the only people I cared about because of some fuck ass delusion in their heads and now they're still goin' around actin' like I'm in the wrong."

DeAndre hummed quietly to let me know he was listening, but he mostly stayed quiet and just rubbed my head comfortingly.

I fell silent as well, unsure of what I really even wanted to say. I was afraid of people I tried to erase from my life. People that stopped having control over me ten years ago. I know they can't do anything to me, and yet the second I saw them, it was like I couldn't breathe.

One look at them and I was sixteen again.

"They ain't gon' get to you, baby." DeAndre reassured me quietly. "I wouldn't let 'em. Marcus for sure wouldn't let 'em... Romeo might actually kill for you quicker than I would, and that's sayin' somethin'." He paused to kiss me forehead before continuing. "We got you. We ain't gon' let them bum ass niggas fuck wit' you."

I quietly nodded my head, unable to say much more.

After a moment of silence, Dre frowned and opened his mouth to speak again. "Yo, if your parents burnt down and attempted to kill three people, how is they not in prison?"

... Good question.

"I really don't know. Once I ran I never looked back. Never did no research into the situation or nothin'. I completely left it all behind. Ion even know if they were ever arrested or convicted." I don't even know if they survived.

"You never checked in on the Nixon's?" Dre asked, causing me to shake my head.

"Nah. When I was younger I was just scared. I felt like if I popped up, my parents would just be waitin' for me and hurt all of us again. And then as I got older I just... Forced myself to stop thinkin' 'bout it." Once I got to New York it became easier to push them to the back of my mind. I focused solely on my career, and forced myself to stop thinking about what I left behind.

Dre stayed silent again after that, though this time I could tell he was thinking, but eventually he spoke again. "Well, maybe you should try and check on those niggas while we here. Just like... Ion know. Closure or some shit. Check on them and then we dip and leave yo bum ass parents in the dust." When I didn't answer, he let out a dramatic sigh and continued. "Or I can kill your parents and we can flee the state."

For the first time since I saw my 'parents', I let out a laugh. A real one, the type of laugh that makes your ribs hurt. "As nice as that'd be, ion think we need to add murder on top of all of your other problems."

Dre scoffed and pulled his head back to look into my eyes. "Other problems? Nigga I'm perfect."

Now we were both laughing. The pain and the fear were still there, but he was admittedly making it better. "Yeah, baby... You perfect."