His brother offered a sympathetic nod before shuffling off, leaving Pharaoh to follow in his wake. As they made their way to their father's room, Pharaoh couldn't shake the post nut clarity that hung over him like a dark cloud.
the first light of dawn filtered through the blinds, casting long shadows across the room. Pharaoh and his brother shuffled into their parents domain. The older man fixing his tie in the mirror his eyes sharp despite the hour. Nearby, their mother bustled about, applying makeup with practiced precision, her presence a calming force in the dimly lit space.
Straight to the point, their father's gravelly voice shattered the early morning silence. "What kept you out on the streets all night?" he demanded, his words laced with equal parts concern and frustration.
Pharaoh shifted uncomfortably under his father's piercing gaze, the weight of his guilt heavy upon him. "lost track of time, pop i was out with Jordan," he replied, his tone casual despite the tension in the air.
He hesitated to elaborate further; his father's disapproval of Jordan was palpable.. He consistently portrayed Jordan as a troubled youth, delivering lengthy lectures about how he feared Jordan would lead Pharaoh astray into the bad corners of the world like , Drugs, Alcohol..sex. He wasn't wrong. But pharaoh didn't want him to know that. He didn't want him to know that he was high out of his mind last night enjoying WWE with Jordan.
His father's brow furrowed, but before he could respond, their mother interjected, her voice soft yet firm. "You know your father worries when you're out so late, Pharaoh," she chided gently, her gaze lingering on her son with a mixture of love and concern.
i'm fucking twenty. He wanted to say, it was on the tip of his tongue.
Pharaoh's shoulders slumped, the weight of his parents stair settling over him like a heavy cloak. "I know, ma," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "wasn't doing nothing ."
"When you get a place and pay your own bills, you can stay out and party in the streets all you want—" their father began, his voice carrying the weight of authority.
"—But that shit don't go for Maya? why the hell do we gotta follow that rule?" Eden interrupted, his words a direct challenge to their father's rigid stance. The atmosphere in the room crackled with tension as the defiance hung heavy in the air.
"Watch your mouth—" their father growled, his tone a warning laced with barely contained fury.
Their mother interjected, her voice calm but firm, as she placed her soothing hands on her husband's arm, diffusing the rising tension in the room.
"Sweetheart," she began, her voice gentle yet authoritative as she addressed her two sons, "Maya works—"
"Yeah, the poll," Eden interjected once more, a mischievous glint in his eye, earning a stifled laugh from Pharaoh and a gasp of shock from both parents.
"Eden!" their mother exclaimed, her tone a mix of admonishment and disbelief at her son's audacity. She shot him a reproachful look, silently urging him to show more respect.
Their father's expression hardened, his eyes narrowing as he directed a stern gaze at Eden. "Say it again," he warned, his voice carrying the weight of authority. Eden held his ground, unfazed by his father's glare.
"Just saying it like it is, pops," he replied, his tone defiant.
Pharaoh shifted amused, caught between his brother's rebellious spirit and his father's stern demeanor
Pharaoh spoke up, his voice measured. "Am I done?" he questioned, a hint of uncertainty lingering in his tone as he glanced between his father and mother wondering if the heat was now off him and squarely on his older brother.
i. Moist
Start from the beginning
