♬ 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 (𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. 𝐍𝐄𝐘𝐎)
𝘳𝘪𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢.
𝟏:𝟏𝟖 ➝ ———— 𝟐:𝟐𝟏
𝐒𝐀𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐉𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐓
𝔞𝔱𝔩𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔞 - 𝔤𝔞 | 𝟷𝟸:𝟷𝟸 𝙰𝙼, 𝙳𝙴𝙲 𝟸𝙽𝙳
―·✩·―
LOOKING out at the Atlanta skyline at nothing in particular, Saheem took a pull of the blunt between his lips.
It was extremely rare for him to smoke or drink, but he needed it. Rod Wave played lowly through the apartment, the door ajar so Saheem could hear it from the balcony.
It had been four long days since he'd seen Khepri, and he felt physically sick.
Saheem knew he was in the wrong and wallowing in self-pity was the last thing he should've been doing, but he couldn't help himself. He didn't know whether it was the lyrics or his guilty conscience, but he felt like shit.
How he acted towards Khepri reminded him of the exact person he didn't want to be. The twenty-one-year-old might not have known what he wanted to be as a child, but he knew he wanted to be nothing like Tavares.
Countless nights of watching his eldest brother, June, wipe his mother's tears. Sitting alone on father-son activity days, being afraid to be caught crying, learning how to ride a bike alone, and feeling destined for failure no matter how hard he worked.
Saheem felt himself becoming the person that caused all of that pain and that made him upset.
"Have you ever felt like being somebody else? Feeling like the mirror isn't good for your health?"
Situations like the one that occurred a week ago were the exact reason Saheem hated visiting his family in Chicago.
The vibes hadn't been the same in years and they were all expected to walk on eggshells around each other— avoiding starting any problems or making any existing problems worse.
In Saheem's mind, that was dead, he'd been outspoken since a child and wouldn't tone that down for anybody.
Especially his parents.
He hated how Tynisha and Tavares acted as if the past didn't exist and expected everyone else to do the same. His parents lived in a false reality, only acknowledging the best parts and pretending the negatives never happened.
Both parents had a negative impact on their children's childhoods, though Tavares was the worst of the two. Not only did he corrupt Saheem and his many siblings, but he ruined Tynisha too.
If Tavares said jump, Tynisha asked how high.
If Vares decided he no longer favored one of their children, Nisha would ignore them until Tavares 'liked' them again.
Their dynamic confused Saheem. But, clearly not enough, as he unintentionally showed traits of them through his interactions with women.
"Bouta blow my own high thinkin' bout this shit, foe." Heem huffed, blowing out the smoke he had been holding in his mouth.
There were only two people Saheem would call on for advice, and unfortunately, one was deceased and the other definitely wasn't awake past midnight.
Realizing his eyes were beginning to water, Saheem ashed his blunt and went inside.
"I got stabbed in my back and crossed so many ti—"
"Fuck up." He grumbled, pausing the song.
For once, minus the odd beeping of the smoke alarm, Saheem's penthouse was silent. There wasn't a sibling or cousin in sight.
Finally.
Knowing he had to be at the studio early, Saheem headed to his bedroom. Closing his black-out curtains and turning all the lights off, he climbed into bed.
Forcing the painful thoughts from his mind, Heem let his mind drift to Khepri.
Another problem that needed solving.
Saheem was used to lashing out and not having to face any repercussions. His 'disagreement' with Khepri had shown him she was definitely not going for that.
He knew he couldn't pull up to her house, hand her a half-assed apology and quickly move on.
That wouldn't work, Khepri was nothing like Justice, or any woman he'd been with for that matter. She was very headstrong just as he was, and he didn't know whether that scared or turned him on.
"Fuckin' head hurt," Saheem complained.
Attempting to fall asleep, Saheem twisted and turned in irritation. After nearly pulling a muscle, he stared into the darkness, a deep pout on his face.
As much as he loved this temporary solitude, if he didn't get to sleep he'd be even crankier than usual throughout the day.
Picking up his phone, Saheem went straight to his call log and searched for the only person he could stand to see right now.
No more than a minute after he dialled his number, Quay answered. The pair stayed quiet for a moment before Quay broke the silence.
"You can't sleep either?"
▁▁▁
➭
𝙼𝙰𝙽𝚈 𝙷𝙾𝚄𝚁𝚂 𝙻𝙰𝚃𝙴𝚁
Sat in front of his soundboard, Saheem's eyes were trained on Lil Baby who was re-recording a verse for the thousandth time.
There were no windows in the studio and Saheem hadn't checked his phone, but he was sure it well into the afternoon.
Not that he minded.
"Under 30, made the Forbes list. I'ma walkin' script, record me. This a 30 in a 40. Switch made it fast as hell." Baby rapped into the mic. "Bitch told me she pray for me, told her pray fa brodie dem inna' cell."
Finishing the verse with the help of Heem and his entourage, Baby left the booth to start on the second verse.
"You know what type'a vibe you want?" Saheem questioned. "You could rap a lil faster since the beat gon' speed up."
"I want a feature on that bitch foreal. Another voice would sound raw onnat shit." Baby sighed.
"Mmh."
"You got the perfect voice for rappin', Wick. You know that?" Lil Baby quizzed.
Subtly rolling his eyes, Saheem ignored all of the eyes on him and shook his head.
"Never gon' happen." He shut his friend down with an unamused expression.
There wasn't a day Heem spent in the studio that somebody didn't suggest rapping to him. Those days were in his past and he didn't plan on revisiting them.
After a few more hours off working with Baby and his crew, 7 o'clock came around and it was time for Saheem to wrap up their session.
Following their impromptu sleepover last night, Saheem promised to pick Quay up from football practice and do it all over again— the right way.
Quamaine's practice ran longer than usual which work perfectly for Saheem who had unintentionally spent too long in the studio.
Speeding towards Morehouse College, Heem sped into the car park blasting Homebody by Rob49.
Spotting his younger brother he beeped twice to get his attention, and watched as Quay dapped up his friends before making his way to the car.
"You so ghetto fa pullin' up like that. Remind me of Peanut ass." Quay laughed, throwing a duffle filled with his dirty uniform on the backseat.
With a grin on his face, Saheem waved his brother off and sped away from the college, commencing their plans.
They planned to watch their favorite animated movie— The Emperor's New Groove— with a basket of snacks.
Nobody could watch movies on an empty stomach though, they needed something to eat now.
After a little back-and-forth the brothers decided on McDonald's. Still in a funk, there was no way Saheem was physically entering the store.
Pulling into the drive-thru line, Saheem rolled his window down and waited for somebody, anybody, to speak.
"This McDonald's. Can I take yo ord—"
"A number 3, and a number 4. Large, one Sprite, one vanilla milkshake." Saheem interrupted the girl.
"The shake machine broke." She spoke back in a flat tone.
Looking from side-to-side, Heem blew out a long breath.
"Fix it."
"Sir, what else can I get you to drink?"
"A gotdamn vani—"
Sucking his teeth, Quamaine leaned over the console and spoke over his brother.
"Can he get a sweet tea instead, please? And, two apple pies?"
"Mmh." The girl hummed. "Anything else?"
"Nah. Dat's all, thank you." Quay replied politely.
Tired of hearing the girl's voice, Saheem drove off before she could send them to the next window, stopping the car in front of it and beeping.
With a sour look on her face, the young girl opened the window and prepared to go off, before realizing who was seated in front of her.
"Oh my Go—Kenya?!" She yelled into her headset. "Girl bring yo ass to this fuckin' window."
Seconds later, a chubby teen with a ginger bob came skipping into the booth, her face matching her friend's as soon as she set eyes on Saheem.
"Wick?" She gasped dramatically. "This gotta be for fake. I gotta tell my Ma—can I get a picture witchu?"
"No." Saheem straight-faced her. "How much my food is?"
"You look even better than yo pictures, bra. Sexy ass." The first girl spoke again. "Look, Kenya. There go his fine ass brother in the passenger seat."
Leaning forward with a shy smile, Quay waved at them.
"Hey." He blushed.
"It's no way." The chubbier girl squealed. "Can you say hello to my cou—"
Before they could continue their fan-girl moment Saheem sped off, growing tired of their high-pitched voices and lack of professionalism.
"You so mean. Grouchy ass." Quay chuckled.
"Judy Moody and ha slow ass friend can go ta hell. Fuck dat quarter pounda'. We doordashin' tonight."
▁▁▁
➭
𝙰𝙽 𝙷𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙻𝙰𝚃𝙴𝚁
"Get some Sour Patch Kids, the watermelon kind. All tha Reese's off tha shelf, M&M's— red and yellow—, pink Mike & Ike. Ion want popcorn no mo', so get Hot Fries instead." Quay listed.
Sulking through the aisle's of Walmart alone, Saheem rolled his eyes. Forgetting his pantry was more than empty, his little brother had sent him on a snack run, claiming he couldn't join him because his body was still 'recovering' from practice.
"Hope you got money fa allat shit."
Coming off pause to show his face, Quay looked at Saheem like he was stupid.
"Who tha music man and who play college football? Oh, okay."
Before Saheem could think of a rebuttal, he glanced up at the end of the aisle and nearly threw up.
A familiar figure was bent over a buggy, dropping ingredients into it. In the seat of the of the buggy was a young boy who he recognized immediately.
"Damn." He spoke to himself.
Feeling his hands clam up, he wiped them on his sides to calm down.
There was no way it could be her. Already? He hadn't thought of a good way to apologize yet.
Fuck
"Quay, quick. What I do?"
"Watchu mean? I said I want watermelon Sour Pat—" Quamaine replied, confused.
Cutting his younger brother off, Saheem continued.
"I think I see—What I'm posed ta do, gang?"
"Fuck is you talkin' bout, negro?"
"Just say yes or no."
"Ta' the candy? Fuck yea—"
Rolling his eyes at Quay's stupidity, Saheem hung up the phone and slid it in his pocket. Pulling his joggers up— which fell again due to their size— he slowly approached the woman.
Letting out a sharp breath, he scratched the back of his head nervously. His heart was now in his ass and if she didn't turn around quickly, there would be hell to pay.
He hadn't felt this way in a while and he hated it.
"Uh." He started, a safe distance away from her. "Khep?"
Turning around with furrowed brows, the girl's face transformed from one of confusion to distaste.
"Oh." He twisted his lips to the side, being faced with Khayir instead. "My bad."
"Yeah, yo fuckin' bad. Odd ass boy." Khayir cussed, before turning to her son and apologizing for her language.
"Odd? Fuck you on?" Saheem mirrored her mug.
Pushing the cart back a little so Sincere was out of earshot, Khayir took a step closer to Heem and lowered her voice.
"Don't cuss in front of my fuckin' son nigga, ion know you like that. Yes, odd as fuck. You think I'm gon' smile in yo face knowin' how you did my sister? Getcho ass on."
"Ian even kn—You cussin' in front of him right na." Saheem smacked his lips.
"And I can fuckin' do that, weirdo. You can't. Only thing you need to be worryin' about doing is apologizing to Khepri ass, and focusing on them damn turntables."
"Turntables?" He gave her a dumb look. "I'm not no damn DJ."
Reaching for a packet of spaghetti that was in the cart, Khayir held it in front of his face, trying to stop herself from hitting him with it.
"I know what the fuck you is, boy. Do you?" She sassed.
What do that even mean?
"Runnin' around hurting folks that actually like yo scrawny ass, not knowing the only person you really hurting is yourself." Khayir ranted, tossing the spaghetti back into her cart.
"Wha—"
"Aht. I'm still talkin'." Khayir interrupted him, her motherly traits showing. "Ion fuck witcho ass right now, but I know my sister still does. So if you got any sense in that big ass head, you'd apologize before she stop."
"But I—"
"I'm still fuckin' talking." Khayir threw her arms up.
Sucking his teeth, Saheem put his hands in his pocket and counted from one-ten in his head.
If this wasn't the sister of somebody he cared for, Saheem would've been browsing for something to tie her up with in the hunting aisle.
"That girl been fucked up for days behind you while you hidin' up in Buckhead doing God knows what. You ain't even thought to reach out and apologize? Fuck wrong wit you, bra?"
There were a lot of things wrong with Saheem, too many to count actually. But he was sure she wasn't looking for an actual answer, so instead he said nothing.
Besides, it wasn't time to be smart. She had veins popping out of her forehead.
"You better find a way to fix this shit 'fore you end up miserable and alone, with a bunch'a cats creepin' round you and nobody to love." She advised, her tone still stern. "Seriously."
Before Saheem could even think of a sentence to respond with, a slightly taller male approached them.
He was darker than Saheem, his dreads were neatly re-twisted and sat just above his collarbone. He was dressed in a gray Essentials tracksuit, and white air-forces.
In his left hand he held a jar of Ragu sauce, but his right was buried in his pocket, seemingly gripping something.
With a neutral expression on his face, he looked from Khayir, to Sincere, back to Khayir, and then at Saheem.
"Everything straight, baby?" He asked Khayir whilst staring directly into Heem's eyes.
Oh girl please, bitch hoe.
Without breaking eye-contact with who he assumed to be Khayir's boyfriend, Saheem said his goodbyes before walking off in search of what he really came for.
"I'a see you round, K."
▁▁▁
➭
𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙽𝙴𝚇𝚃 𝙼𝙾𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶
"I'm sorry, g." Saheem practiced in his bathroom mirror. "Ian mean to hur—I can't call ha 'gang', can I? Fuck no."
"I'm sorry, beautif—I can't call ha that neither. She gon' think I'm just tryna fuck. I mean..I want to, but dat's not why I'm apolo— fuck."
You know what..
Picking up his personal iPhone, Saheem opened iMessage. Hovering his thumb over the keyboard, he decided on what to say and typed it quickly.
𝐊𝐡𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐢
𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦
Can we talk?
𝖉𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖉.
Setting the phone— screen down on the bathroom counter, Saheem ran a hand over his face.
He planned to leave his phone there and check on it every five minutes for a reply. With a hand on the door, he went to leave before hearing a ping.
Practically snatching the phone up, he unlocked it quickly.
𝐊𝐡𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐢
𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦
Can we talk?
No
Bitch
.....
𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉.
Side-eying at her reply, Saheem threw all caution to the wind and went off-script since she wasn't following it all.
"This ain't how it was 'posed ta go in my head." He grumbled.
𝐊𝐡𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐢
𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦
Can we talk?
No
Bitch
.....
99 West Paces, Ferry Rd
Let me kno when u outside
𝖉𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖉.
AN HOUR OR SO LATER, both Saheem and Khepri were seated in his living room. One on one couch and the other on the opposite.
They'd been sat in silence for a few minutes, staring at each other. Khepri held a bored look on her face— seemingly waiting for Saheem to gather his words.
"You uh..you look good." He started. Gesturing to her hair, he went on. "This a good color on you, I like dat curly shi—"
"You didn't invite me over to compliment my wig, Wick. Make this quick or I'm leaving."
Pouting deeply, he sat up and folded his arms.
"Don't call me that. My name Saheem, that's what you call me." He corrected, a little offended.
"Saheem, Wick, Fuck Nigga." Khepri listed with a shrug. "Make this quick like I said."
Clenching his jaw, Heem nodded, knowing he wasn't in the position start an argument.
He was already in hot water.
"I wanted ta apologize. The right way...I been fucked up 'bout this shit Khep."
"Awe." She held her bottom lip out in fake sincerity. "Po' baby. Fucked up 'bout some shit that you did? Don't piss me off."
"I ain't mean to." Heem spoke lowly. "I swear to God I didn't."
Slouching in her seat, Khepri huffed to herself.
"I was 'posed ta see you afta' I got back from Chicago. I wanted to, I promised."
"Shit ain't go right out there doe. I got into it with my folks so I flew back the day we landed. I was mad as hell over that shit and ion like takin' my anger out on nobody, so I turned my phones off and came home."
"Switched them mu'fuckas on the next and seen that you had messaged me. I remembered our promise, felt bad and hit you."
"Pulled up and we fucked. Them won't my intentions at first, I just wanted to be around you foreal but—"
"How the hell you found my address?." Khepri interrupted. "I sho' didn't give it to you."
Annoyed that he'd now lost his train of thought, Saheem stared into Khepri's eyes with a soft mug on his face.
"That's not important." He dismissed before remembering where he was. "I ain't never been good at speaking about my problems or nun. I'm not using that as a excuse but—"
"You are though." Khepri cut him off again. "I know a lot of people who can't communicate right. They don't fuck on girls and leave as soon as they get their nut off."
"They don't cry during sex and talk crazy to the person that's tryna help them either. You left me so confused, bra. Gave me good dick and treated me like a hoe right after. A quick fuck? That hurt, nigga."
"I know.." Saheem leaned forward. "I know and I'm sorry, pretty girl. So sorry. Me apologizin' might not make you feel no better but I mean it. You not a quick fuck, nowhere near. I like you."
Unfolding her arms, Khepri let them rest in her lap so she could play with the button on her jeans.
Refusing to give him any eye-contact, her eyes stayed trained to her lower half.
"I like you more than I should considering ion know you all too well. My actions 'prolly say otherwise and I'm change that. I'm sorry."
Smacking her lips, Khepri looked up.
"You got 'bout as much chance of gettin' me to give a fuck than I do winning the Kentucky Derby." She spoke plainly.
"I got you hea' though. That must mean sum, right?"
A silence fell over the room again. Neither Khepri or Saheem knew where th e conversation was going next.
"What happened in Chicago?" Khepri quizzed, a softer tone to her voice.
Feeling the memories from that night flood his mind, Saheem's chest tightened quickly. Nobody outside his circle knew the extent of his parental relationship.
He'd swallow his penthouse before he spoke on family business outside of that setting, but he knew he owed Khepri an explanation.
"My daddy a bitch and my mama enable that shit. We flew out there fa' my Granny, Sue Mae, birthday. Eh'body on my daddy side that's not beefin' came."
"Dat nigga started on me befo' the party even started foreal. I normally ignore his ass but he got under my skin that day. We got into it and his drunk ass tried ta fight me. My mama got involved how she always do, defending his dizzy ass, tried to make me apologize."
"I won't going for it so she spat on me." He shrugged. "Party over. Ain't get no cake or nun."
"She spat on you? Your mom spat on you? Heem, what the fuck?" Khepri eyed him, alarmed. "You said that shit too smooth, baby."
"Ain't nun."
"Don't act that shit's normal. She's weird as fuck for that."
Not knowing how to respond, Saheem simply rubbed his hands over his thighs. He felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest. As crazy as Khepri was looking at him, he felt good about confiding in her.
"Damn. You got girls tatting yo name on them, a fucked up relationship with yo mama, and an attitude problem." She listed, shaking her head. "It's so many alarm bells goin' off right now and my dumbass won't answer."
Chuckling at her, Saheem inched forward a little more. Holding his hand out to Khepri, he waited until she slipped hers into his and spoke.
"Let me take you on a date? A proper date, to apologize."
Taking her hand back slowly, Khepri picked up her crossbody Prada purse and stood up.
She gestured for Saheem to walk her to the front door— he obliged, dragging his feet behind her. Before she could reach for the door handle, he placed a hand on her chin, tilting her head up so she was forced to look into his eyes.
Dropping his voice to a lower register, he pleaded gently.
"Please? Don't make me beg, Sevyn."
Softening her stern expression, Khepri glanced to the side before looking back up at Saheem.
"Don't call me that." She mumbled.
Smirking at the way his words had been used against him, Saheem let his arms fall to his side.
"Is that a yes?"
Saheem could see the mechanics working in Khepri's brain. Her stubbornness was going to be the death of her, but he couldn't say anything because so was his.
"I'ma be at my mama's house tomorrow. Pick me up from there." She confirmed.
Nodding steadily, Saheem resisted the urge to pull her into a hug, instead moving out of the way so she could leave.
Fishing her car key out of her pocket, Khepri stood under the doorframe and spun around.
"Saheem?" She called, her expression serious again. "I'm accepting your apology, but if you ever do some shit like that again? I'ma put a fuckin' hurtin' on you, bra."
―·✩·―
𝐀/𝐍:
I'm so sorry I disappeared for so long AGAIN but I'm back now 😂😂😂
I'm a deadbeat just like that man smh
I love you all so so much. Thanks for waiting on me 🫦🚫📶
Thoughts?
𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐝: Jan 12th | 2:19am
𝐀 𝐊 𝐀 𝐄 𝟒 𝐊 𝐄 𝐌 𝐈 𝐏 𝐑 𝐎 𝐃 𝐔 𝐂 𝐓 𝐈 𝐎 𝐍