Below The Belt

Round 34

Tyreek's POV

I was happy as hell to return home after spending damn near everyday in that damn hospital. I ended up staying until Red was good enough to leave. Mostly because I wasn't confident that Mr. Onyx wouldn't circle back and try to kill him again, but also because in the time we've spent together we finally got to know each other. I now know that he's twenty five, he has three older siblings who all cut him off when his dad outed him, his mother died when he was younger and his father almost immediately remarried to a younger woman. I found out that he's never had a boyfriend because "Niggas ain't shit", and I also found out that he's attracted to Raymond Jr... Which of course I made fun of him for, just as much as I made fun of him for still liking me after all this shit.

Unfortunately for him, all I need in my life is the man I'm headed home to now.

"Where you stay at?" I asked Red as I drove around the city. He was laying in the passenger seat playing with some of his bandages. Broken nose, fractured brow bone, two broken fingers, broken ribs... And then to top it all off, he got shot three times in broad daylight in a room full of people. I felt bad for him for many reasons, but a big one was the fact that he wouldn't be able to fight for a while. When I got out of the hospital, not being able to do the one thing I'm passionate about sucked. Of course, I was lucky enough to have my family to keep me entertained until I was healed.

Hopefully we can be that for Red. I don't want him going crazy because he can't punch something without hurting himself.

"Drop me off at a hotel." He answered quietly, making me turn to look at him with a confused frown. When he saw me staring, he sighed and laid his head on the window. "When I say I'm deep in Mr. Onyx's pocket, I mean it. He has full control over my life. He owns the apartment he put me in, he owns the car he bought me, he owns the clothes he put on my back— He owns me. I can't go back home."

Damn... "Well, maybe you can come st-"

"Hell no." He cut me off while shaking his head. "First of all, I think your boyfriend wants to murder me. Second of all, I'm not about to lay up and listen to y'all fuck. Drop me off at a hotel."

"... Dre doesn't want to murder you." I said hesitantly. Anymore. Doesn't want to murder you anymore. He side eyed me, making me laugh and continue. "I'm serious. He's the main reason we even made up in the first place... Plus he thinks you're fine."

That finally got a smile out of him as he laughed. "That's because that's an undeniable fact."

I rolled my eyes but didn't bother disagreeing with him because he is fine as fuck. He ate that little one thing.

"Look, I don't feel right just droppin' you off at some hotel. You need to be looked after."

"I can look after myself." He answered dryly, making me groan in frustration. Niggas can't ever just accept help.

"Bartholomew Jones." He let out a dramatic sigh when I said his name, then turned to glare at me while he crossed his arms the best he could without hurting himself. "Why are you so against accepting help?"

"Tyreek Amore Reign." He shot back, making me smack my lips. Fair enough. "I am not against accepting help, but I would like to return to the comfort of my own space and recover on my own. Preferably in my actual home but since that's not an option, a luxury hotel with unlimited hot water will just have to do."

"But what if you need help?" I asked, watching as he rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I'm serious, nigga. You broke my ribs and I could barely shower on my own. You got broken bones and extra holes in your body, you're gonna need help."

"Tyreek." He said in a deadpan voice. "I have been takin' care of myself for a long time. Imma be cool."

"But-"