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( CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: SHOOT ME DOWN ) December, 1992
❝ I don't love you, I never did. ❞
◯
He didn't know what to think. Half of Devon's brain was immersed with worry, while the other half was trying to navigate its way through his own confusion. He intended to overthink a lot, and despite his mind emphasising clear, valid points, he couldn't come to a decision about the fate of his future. Nearly three months where Devon remained indecisive, and he thought he prided himself on being firm in what he wanted.
But alas, Devon Emmet was reminded that great waves of uncertainty can swing into one's life when they least expect it. Nikki was beginning to become agitated at his lack of compliance. He barely talked to her, he barely gave her firm answers on his decision to move to Paris, but it seemed as though she made up his mind already.
She was already packing for the big move, while Devon tried to centre his mind on his current job, choreographing for Bobby Brown. Bobby's Humpin' Around World tour would take off at any minute, and despite the alarming decision that was weighing down on Devon's shoulders, the young man still carried on.
His willpower was holding on by a string, feeling mentally and physically exhausted from all the thinking, the doubting and the worries. Despite everyone around him saying that going to Paris was a good idea, Devon felt himself becoming morbid and depressed at the very thought.
Even though starting another life in another country was exciting, Devon was still fearful. He feared that maybe he won't be getting the same creative fulfilment he got whenever he roamed the urban American streets, watching the culture of hip hop evolve throughout the ages. In Europe, things would be completely different, and Devon didn't know if he could digest that change.
Nevertheless, he focussed his mind. The last rehearsal for Bobby Brown's tour made Devon loose himself in his craft. The young dancer found himself vigorously rehearsing whenever he could, trying to use his dance as a form of escapism, to avoid the terrible questions about his future with his girlfriend and his career.
One cold, December night in Los Angeles, Devon found himself wandering the streets. His hoodie was comfortably draped over his broadened figure, and his sneakers were shuffling along the dry brick sidewalk. Despite the fact that winter in Los Angeles bared little similarities to New York, Devon still found himself comforted by the refreshing breeze and enamoured by the Christmas lights.
He sadly had to spend the holiday practicing for the tour in LA, which made him miss the wet, snowy winters in Harlem. He missed a lot of things about the city, including his family, despite how dysfunctional they could be sometimes. But hey, what family wasn't?
Devon liked to think that despite all the problems he encountered, he still would cut off his limbs for his family, it was a no brainer. During a time like this, he missed them terribly, but somehow he knew that this was a critical time to be alone. As Devon continued to trudge through the streets, sunken brown eyes staring sombrely into space, his brain began to plunge into a pit of despair.
