Chapter 11

SAME DAY, SAME TIME

Micah left their dorm quickly. His was still frazzled, and he just needed to be as far away from him and his school as possible.

Jeremiah just stood there. He just blinked, replaying Micah’s words over and over and over… “Hate me?” he asked himself.

He then replayed the memory again and again, until his eyes burned, and he still stood in the same spot. “Hate me?” he asked himself again, feeling tears start fall from his face. Jeremiah didn’t even try to stop it, for all he could think about and feel was hurt.

It hurt so much, he felt like his heart was physically being stabbed repeatedly by Micah’s words.

It hurt so much because… that was the opposite feeling that Jeremiah had for him.

Jeremiah didn’t know what to call what he felt for Micah, but he knew it was the opposite of hate.

He just bit down on his lip, plopping down onto the couch, wondering why the tears never stopped flowing from his face.

His phone started to ring, and Jeremiah just picked it up, not saying a word.

“Miah, whur you at? I thought we was rey turn up? Lamar hoe ass went off somewhur,” Dreya spoke into the phone, receiving no response. “Jeremiah?”

“…He told me he hate me, Drey,” Jeremiah sighed and sniffled.

Dreya raised a brow, “Huh? Who—oh…” she sighed. “Micah told you et?” she asked him.

Jeremiah just felt his lips trembling as more tears fell, and he wiped his face with his hands. “Yeah,” he cried, nodding his head. “N he meant it too.”

“Imma be atcho dorm in ten—I’m still close to yo campus, okay?” Dreya asked him, and he nodded. “Words, Jeremiah,” she added. It was something she got used to telling him over the years.

Jeremiah sometimes forgot he needed to speak to effectively communicate—not just his feelings, but anything. His brain had a hard time—he nodded, not thinking about the fact that Dreya couldn’t see him because they were on the phone.

“Yeah, Drey—see you in ten,” Jeremiah told her.

A little less than ten minutes went by before Dreya was knocking hard on Jeremiah’s door.

She just shook her head, knowing what the conversation would entail.

Nigga realizing slowly that he’s probably in love with Micah—gay ass probably have been since we were kids.

“Hey, Drey,” Jeremiah greeted her after opening the door.

Dreya looked up at him, seeing his red eyes.

This was a perfect day for Jeremiah, and all his mind was focused on was Micah and the harsh words he spoke.

Dreya walked inside. “I brought a bag. I ordered Indian—I’m rey put on my night clothes. I wanna get inna bed fa I hur you rant n cry,” she told him, and Jeremiah just chuckled and nodded.

“Aight, Imma do the same,” Jeremiah told her with a dry chuckle. “Imma get inna showa real quick then,” he nodded, and then the two went inside his room.

After Jeremiah had calmed down during his shower, he exited, quickly doing his night routine, and throwing on some basketball shorts and a wife beater.

He left the bathroom, seeing Dreya dozing off, laying against his headboard on her shoulders, only sporting some basketball shorts… and a wife beater, however, she had on a sports bra underneath.

Jeremiah climbed into bed, putting a blanket over her. “The hell?” she felt a hand on her, jumping out of her sleep. “The fuck you in my face fa?” she blinked, seeing Jeremiah staring at her face with a smile. “You look like a fuckin’ serial killer—actually, my mama said I can’t sleep in boys’ rooms,” she shook her head.

The two just started cracking up laughing, and they both sat up straight. Once they got quiet, Dreya looked over to Jeremiah who had his eyes focused on the TV. “You gon’ finally tell me you n Micah got sum goin’ on—and how he broke your heart?” she asked.

Jeremiah just bit down on his lip. He sighed, then grabbed his remote, turning down the TV to a low volume. He slightly turned his body towards Dreya, almost afraid to look her in the eyes. “Iss okay, Miah,” she told him. “I love you regardless,” she nodded.

Nodding, Jeremiah lifted his head, sighing once more, “So…” he began. Jeremiah was the type of person where he had to explain the entire thing. “Ion know what happened, but… ever since me n Micah moved in together… thur has been a energy that’s different. To say the least,” Jeremiah started.

He adjusted a bit in his spot, “We started kissin’… ion even know how—we jus’ would be fucked up off the liq, then next thang you know, we tongue kissin’ n my hand down his pants… but I let et go cuz Micah ain’t even rememba it—but, then we fucked,” Jeremiah told her, looking up to see her reaction.

“But… it wasn’t jus’ sex fa once, it was… different. Ian even cur ’bout gettin’ a nut. I just wanted ta make Micah feel good,” Jeremiah nodded. “Cuz anythang he do make me feel good, so Ian need all the otha shit,” he shrugged. “Es how I feel when I’m around him.”

He then looked back towards the TV. “But—obviously, niggas ain’t gay or whateva, n niggas got whole fiances n baby mamas—we bof possibly could go pro. I’m a fuckin’ rapper—he’s one of the most known niggas in the city—state, shit, he known around the country. Look at his IG… n e way—”

“So how did he break your heart?” Dreya asked, knowing that Jeremiah could sometimes get lost in what he was saying.

Jeremiah shrugged, “Cuz I know he meant it when he sed it, n like I said, es the opposite of what I feel about him, but I can’t even be mad. Look at what he goin’ thru,” Jeremiah sighed. “His fuckin’ brotha told me that he know that I would win. He wasn’t even rootin’ fa his own fam! We been around et nigga long enough ta know how his parents get down, n I know he feel like I’m constantly in the way of makin’ his peoples proud… I hate that—you know I almost was rey let him win, Drey,” he nodded.

“I was gon’ throw some plays—hell, even allet bullshit he was talkin’ in Jordan video, I pushed it ta the side. It was times whur we was on the court—the last shot, Drey,” his voice cracked a bit. “But I couldn’t… I cur about him a lot, but I’m scured of bein’ back inna place like I was before,” he told her honestly. “N I crushed his dreams—”

“Stop,” Dreya shook her head. “You know how I feel aboutchu n et self deprecatin’ ass shit. You are not responsible fa anything in Micah’s life besides puttin’ yo dick in him,” Dreya told him. “Nigga, I know you love him—”

“Huh?” Jeremiah tilted his head to the side.

“You hurd me—as I was sayin’, I know you love him, but you cannot take on all his shit. He hate you fa what? Cuz you great at basketball? Cuz you a great rapper? We not gon’ act like Micah ain’t hadda luh jealousy problem inna past—he can’t blame you cuz his parents ain’t shit, or how he don’t want that almost white gurl—fuck et gotta do witchu?” Dreya raised a brow.

Jeremiah blinked, thinking over her words. “Et nigga fucked you while he hadda whole bitch, Miah—”

“N the nigga is the one who say he can’t be wit me,” Jeremiah bit down on his lip.

Dreya sighed, facepalming herself. “Look, Ian rey tell you what ta do wit Micah—but, I do want you ta recognize yo feelins. How you feel about him?”

“Umm… I guess you was right,” Jeremiah shrugged.

“You love him?” she asked.

Jeremiah nodded, “I think so… I neva felt it before—not like es. Not romantically.”

“You think it’s cuz you gay?” Dreya asked to be sure.

“Nah… I be gettin’ my dick sucked by James n shit, n Ion feel no way ’bout him like et fareal—I mean I fuck wit him as a person. He’s coo’ ta hand out wit and fuck around wit, but romantically—Ion know—nobody Micah…” Jeremiah shook his head quickly.

Dreya was shocked as she sat there with her eyes open widely, “Niggas is bisexual now?”

“Fuck no,” Jeremiah answered quickly.

“I know niggas ain’t homophobic?” Dreya raised a brow.

“Dreya, you know I ain’t, but Ian no f*g,” Jeremiah shook his head.

“Nigga, you jus’ said you in love wit a nigga, n anotha nigga swallowin’ dick—you defly a f*g,” Dreya nodded.

Jeremiah just let out an exasperated sigh. “…I guess I am, huh,” he spoke with a slight attitude.

“How you gon’ get an attitude wimme cuz you like dick, bitch?” Dreya spat. “I’m rey get up outta hur—niggas is trippin’,” she smacked her lips, pretending to get up to head out.

“Noooo, Drey. Spenna night—I luh you. I’a eatcho pussy if you want sum in return,” Jeremiah giggled, trolling her.

Dreya just stared at him blankly. “Iss takin’ everythang in me not to smack hell fire outchu, bitch.”

“I’m jus’ sayin’ Drey, you da one dat taught me how ta use my nose, memba?” Jeremiah winked at her, making Dreya mush his face back.

“Et neva happened,” Dreya shook her head, referring to the time when they both got sloppy drunk at seventeen. They came home from a party, and Jeremiah came to her saying a girl told him he gave ‘weak ass head.

She told him that she would teach him, and somehow Jeremiah convinced her to let him practice on her.

It was the alcohol…

“What happened?” Jeremiah tilted his head. “I’m jus’ fuckin’ witchu, Drey—my mind clurly gay at the moment anyways,” he laughed, making Dreya laugh too.

“I know,” she shrugged, getting back into the bed. She was never leaving in the first place. “Y’all needa talk tho…”

“How n the nigga hate me?” Jeremiah asked.

In another building, Micah stood in front of a door, knocking, “Mei,” he spoke above a whisper, knocking again. “May–lee!” he smacked his lips, She said he could come over whenever tonight.

“Hold on, damn!” Meilie yelled through the door. “Can a bitch put some clothes on first?” she asked, swinging the door open, revealing her standing there in her robe and slippers.

“I mean… you ain’t have to,” Micah shrugged, making Meilie roll her eyes.

“C.mon,” she scoffed and then grabbed a bottle of tequila from her refrigerator, and two shot glasses. She poured them both a shot, then slid Micah his. “Churs,” she told him, watching as he also grabbed his shot glass and clinked his glass against hers.

They then down their shots, with Micah getting up to rummage through her fridge for a chaser.

“Shit–es nasty,” he spoke, cracking open one of her Sprite cans.

Once he returned to his seat on her couch, she looked at him. “Fuck you hur at this time of night? I thought you ain’t wanna come wit me? You mad at me cuz I went to his concert after you left me, n you said you wanna fuck wit no fake shit,” she pointed to her chest. “Ion do bullshit like et, Micah–friend, foe, girl, or not,” she told him.

“I’m sorry, Mei,” he nodded. “Truly–I was jus’ in my feelins–I have been for a minute, n it seems like–everythang jus’ keep gettin’ tooken from me by et nigga,” Micah sniffled.

Meilie sighed, “I understand, but I also left a whole concert ta console you–was offerin’ whur I live,” she pointed around the room. “Whur I share a space wit someone else, for you–I know your life is crazy, n I try ta be thur fa you, but jus’ because I’m the only nigga that know the truth of what’s goin’ on in hur,” she poked her nail into his temple. “Et don’t mean you get ta take allet shit out on me, coo?” she asked.

Micah nodded. “I’m sorry, Mei–truly, I value you so much, n already learned from you, n feel like you a person in my life that I can confide in. Ian rey fuck et up–you one of the best thangs et happened ta me ever, n I mean et from the bottom of my heart,” Micah told her genuinely.

Sighing, Meilie’s slight frown turned into a smile. “Okay, I forgive you,” she smiled. “Now, fareal, why you hur? You saw Jeremiah?” she asked him.

Nodding, Micah rushed to pour himself another shot. “Slow down fa you end up a addict like me,” she told him with a slight smirk.

“Last… two…” he spoke. “I need it, Mei,” Micah looked over at her, then poured himself another round, taking it back, then immediately drinking the soda that sat next to the small glass.

Micah sat back, getting comfortable on her couch, “He came back…” Micah started. “N all I saw was–red,” Micah told her. “I told him I hated him,” Micah said quickly.

“Hate?” Meilie almost choked. “Why would you say et, Micah?” she asked him.

“Because…” Micah facepalmed himself. “Es what I felt inna moment–hate.“

“But was it for him?” Meilie asked. “We jus’ had es conversation, Micah–you need ta apologize ta him. Especially, when you don’t even feel that way. I know you want him in your life regardless, so don’t say shit that could ruin it,” she told him.

“Do I tho?” he asked. “Do I want him in my life? Especially when I want him so bad—I get mad as fuck when I even see him too close ta someone…” Micah told her. “And I can’t have him. I don’t hate him… but I do because I envy him. He’s such a fuckin—it’s hard to describe how great of a person he is. How talented he is—I understand why… people are so drawn to him… I’m jealous, but… I’m also one of the people that couldn’t help but be drawn to him… and it hurts—envying the person you lo—” he stopped, putting a finger to his lips. “Enving a person like him–I know he didn’t deserve those words. It’s a few niggas–hell, few thousand nigga that deserve those words before, Miah.”

“You love him, Micah,” Meilie told him.

Micah sighed, blinking as he felt tears threaten to escape his eyes, “I do,” he nodded as he started crying. “I do, n I can’t have him. I can’t, n it hurts when the person you feel like et fa is gettin’ n achievin’ everythang you want,” he spoke.

“But you don’t want basketball, Micah. You don’t want anything that’s goin’ on, clurly except him… he’s the only thing I’ve ever heard you say you wanted…” Meilie pointed out. “So… it’s up ta you whether you go with what you want, or stay with what you think you need. I’m not judin’ either way, but et gurl don’t deserve a confused ass, half-thur baby daddy. You hur me, Micah?” she told him.

Micah nodded, “I’d neva.”

“So figure yo shit out, n apologize ta him, cuz I promise, you’ll be more hurt in the end because you gon’ lose a nigga that’s clurly very important to you,” Meilie told him, then took a deep sigh. “Okay, enough talkin’ ’bout niggas, my God–I’m too gay for es shit,” she pulled him up. “Now, we drunk paint,” she smiled and giggled.

•••

mid january, 2020

CLASS IS BACK IN SESSION

Sighing, Micah woke up, groaning a bit. “Fuck, I hate es bitch,” he complained as he got up and stretched.

He had been sleeping on Meilie’s couch ever since he told Jeremiah he hated him. He also refused to go home if he didn’t have to, so he just asked her if it was okay.

The athletes were only supposed to be in the athletic dorms, but Meilie just snuck him into her dorm building every day.

He got up, ordering some groceries, so he could make her breakfast.

Once they arrived, he put on his shoes to go get them from the front desk, but when he opened the door, he was faced with a woman probably a foot shorter than him.

She was holding the bags from Walmart in her hands, and Micah only stared at her, “Who da fuck is you?” she asked, “N wuss in ‘ese bags? MEILIE!” she yelled, pushing past Micah.

Micah just turned around looking at her. She had on some tightly fit, bright-ass yellow leggings. He couldn’t help but look at her ass, biting his lip.

“MEILIE!” she yelled again.

Meilie groaned loudly, getting up and dragging herself out of her room. She sighed, “Mornin’, Micah,” she greeted him. “You cookin’ again? Thank you–yo ass make good ass food,” she told him, ignoring the other girl in the room.

“Who da fuck is Micah–Oh, you n Woody Kent jus’ hadda one V one, right? Hella niggas was thur–I was pissed I was gon’ n I missed it,” she expressed.

Meilie only shook her head, “Micah, this is Junelle AKA Junie,” she introduced them.

“How the fuck are you frens witta jock ass nigga like et, Mei?” Junie asked, then turned to Micah, walking up to him, holding her hand out to shake it. “You know she gay right?”

“Yes, bitch–stop harassin’ my frens!” Meilie told her.

Micah just laughed, shaking his head. “I’m makin’ eggs, bacon, french toast, sausage. Coo’ wit the two beautiful ladies?” he asked.

“Yes, n thank you, freeen!” Meilie smiled, jumping up to run and kiss Micah on the cheek.

“I’m coo’ wit whateva,” Junie smiled at him, and Micah only noticed how pretty she was too. “Thank you, mixed papi.”

Her pretty brown skin, deep brown eyes, and full lips that were slightly two-toned.

Micah just laughed, “Of course, mami,” he teased.

“Nuh uh–he gotta fiance, Ju,” Meilie shouted with her hands cuffed.

“Yikes…” Junie chuckled, hearing her alarm go off. “Ooo–I forgot we got et class taday–Ion got shit on the list. I left my shit at my studio.”

“You can use my shit, JuJu. You got your supplies, Micah?” Meilie asked him.

He nodded, sighing. “At my fuckin’ dorm, but yeah.”

“Micah in the art class wit us? The jock?” Junie asked, and Micah just laughed some more.

Meilie nodded, “Believe it or not, we met first at a pottery class–and he wasn’t the worst in the class. A big, sexy nigga throwin’ pots–mmm mmm mmm,” Meilie shook her head.

“Mmmm,” Junie bit down on her lip. “You sed he gotta fiance fareal?” she asked Meilie, causing Micah to laugh out loud.

“N I gotta kid onna way,” Micah spoke truthfully.

“Oh, hell nah–neva mind,” Junie shook her head. “Nope.”

“Understandable,” Micah laughed as he continued cooking.

“Mmm, it smell good in es mufucka,” Meilie damn near growled. “I need iiiiiit!” she spoke dramatically.

“Iss es how all art kids act?” Micah turned around, trolling Meilie, who just ran up to him, jumping on his back. “Bruh, you gon’ make me burn es food,” he laughed.

Meilie jumped off of him, “Keep fuckin’ witta real bish!” she told him.

“Who all in our class?” Junie asked.

Meilie shrugged, “Less see.” She then pulled out her phone and went to the website where she could check her class, the instructor, and the student.

She looked through the list, naming people that Micah didn’t know. His heart started to beat faster, not wanting to hear the name of the person who encouraged him to take this class in the first place.

…It never came though.

“Wasn’t Jeremiah in es class?” Meilie asked Micah.

Micah just nodded, “Well… Ion see his name… I guess the nigga switched out–pussy,” she said low, smacking her lips.

Although she was a fan of Jeremiah’s music, she didn’t like the energy he gave her every time she and Micah were together.

Especially, when he wasn’t even out of the closet to even claim Micah, but she also knew her friend was in love with him, so she tried to keep her slight reservations to herself–at least for the time being.

Micah only felt frustrated. He knew he didn’t deserve to feel that way, but he couldn’t help how he felt.

“Good,” Micah said to himself. “Fuck et nigga,” he shrugged, knowing he didn’t mean it.

About thirty minutes later, Micah and the two women all sat on the couch, eating, with Micah sitting in the being, being sandwiched by two beautiful women.

He just shook his head.

Fiance–baby–fiance–baby… He kept repeating in his head over and over again.

After they ate, they went over to the athletic dorms, forcing Micah to get his supplies, then the three held onto both of his arms, making Micah carry all of their supplies to class.

“Am I jus’ niggas mule?” he asked.

“Well, yes,” Junie laughed, mocking Tokyo Toni.

Meilie only laughed too, high-fiving Junie in front of him.

“Women ain’t shit,”

•••

a week later

“You got to, Micah,” James and Chase laughed as they pulled Micah out of the gym.

The trio just finished up with basketball practice. All the boys had showered in the locker room. Jeremiah, Taylor, and Jordan were all on their way to the mall to start shopping for their Homecoming Dance outfits.

Meanwhile, James and Chase were trying to get Micah to follow through on the bet he made with Jeremiah—letting him pick out his Homecoming outfit.

The team took bets seriously, but this time, Micah was just going to have to get jumped.

He’s been staying with Meilie for the past couple of weeks, only seeing or speaking to Jeremiah during practice. And during practice, the only time they spoke was when they were on the court calling plays, or speaking to Coach about their next move for playing professionally.

Other than that, nothing.

Micah had thought about Meilie’s words over and over again. He knew he should apologize, but how… and why? Micah thought about the whys a lot.

He thought maybe it would be better this way, considering that they couldn’t be together. Micah wasn’t going to leave Kelia–not for some fantasy of him being gay.

Micah had a child and a future to think about, and to risk it all? That was something he wasn’t willing to do at the moment. He’d rather suffer through his feelings he thought were minuscule to the grand scheme of life.

They’re not… but that’s what Micah thought.

“Kelia wanna pick out my fit,” Micah tried to break free from their grasp.

“Well, change inta et afta you stick ta the bet,” Chase chuckled.

James felt the odd energy between the two, but he just minded his business. It was probably the reason Jeremiah had been hitting him up more for sexual things. He hoped that spending more time together would grow their relationship a bit.

It’s not like he wanted to be out or anything, but he couldn’t help but also want Jeremiah–it started out with him being petty, trying to get Jeremiah to focus on him, so he wouldn’t be focused on Micah… so he could have Micah.

However, James fell into the trap most people did when it came to Jeremiah. They started falling in love with him.

“Plus, Ion know wuss da problem witchu two niggas, but I know damn well, y’all ain’t rey let no fuckin’ one V one have y’all actin’ like y’all hate each otha–I know y’all got that luh rivalry, but not ta es point. We all fam, Micah,” Chase told him, making Micah soften up a bit.

At the end of the day, Micah was a team player, and he really wanted the best for everyone on the team even if he didn’t get what he wanted.

“C’mon, Micah,” James patted his back with a small smirk.

Micah sighed, “Fuck it–n one of you niggas payin’ fa the ugly ass outfit. Ion give a fuck who,” he smacked his lips, exiting the gym with an attitude.

Chase and James just dapped each other up. “Who said it was rey be ugly!” Chase yelled through his hands, laughing while he and James also left and headed to his car to pile inside.

•••

The three boys arrived at the mall. It was a weekday, so it wasn’t as busy as usual–on top of the fact that the mall they went to wasn’t as popular as it used to be.

They parked in the Dillard parking lot. “Y’all sho’ y’all hur?” Chase asked Jordan on the phone.

“Yes, dumb nigga–c’mon,” Jordan told him. “Aye, we found some shit already,” Jordan could be heard laughing with Taylor in the background laughing too.

“Man, he rey loovve es,” Taylor laughed.

Chase laughed, then hung up the phone. “Aight, y’all,” he looked towards the other two in his car. “Let’s go,” he nodded, and then the three got out of his car. They walked into the store, heading over to the men’s section, confused when they didn’t see anyone.

“The fuck?” Micah smacked his lips. “Well, nobody hur–I’m rey go home,” he gave a wide and fake smile.

“Uh, uh—” Chase pulled out his phone, calling Jordan again.

“My bad—niggas jus’ had decided they was hongry,” Jordan laughed. “We inna food court. We gon’ head back later. I mean niggas jus’ did get outta practice,” Jordan told him.

Chase just rolled his eyes. “Niggas is indecisive and bullshit—but we onna way.”

“What—” Jordan spoke before Chase completely hung up the phone. He then turned to the other two. “Niggas is elephants—they in the fuckin’ food court,” Chase shook his head.

James just laughed as they started heading there while Micah only felt a bit more relieved that he wouldn’t have to talk to Jeremiah… or face him… or acknowledge him at all.

Once they made it, the boys split up to get whatever food they wanted. Jordan had his food first, so he texted everyone in the group chat, telling them to find where he was sitting.

Micah had stood in line for some Chinese fast food, getting the biggest box and stuffing it to the max. “Can I get a large drink, some chopsticks, and hella duck and soy?” he asked the lady behind the register.

“Yes,” she smiled at him. “What kind of drink?”

“Uhh,” Micah looked over, almost jumping when he saw Jeremiah in the same line, picking out his food. He stared at him for a second.

“Sir?”

Micah whipped his head towards the woman, “Sorry—I’ll take a Sprite and…” he looked over, seeing Jeremiah done with picking out his food and waiting for Micah to be done. “I got his too,” he pointed his thumb towards him.

He figured he would extend the olive branch first.

Jeremiah raised a brow, but he thanked Micah anyway. “Thanks,” he nodded towards him, grabbing his food as Micah paid, not waiting for him before he left to go find the table Jordan sat at.

Micah just sighed. “Can I get anotha large water?” he asked. The woman nodded, then she made the water, grabbed his chopsticks, and his sauces, and put everything in the bag besides the two drinks. She read him his total, then Micah pulled out his card, paying for it.

Afterward, he walked around the food court until

he saw his friends sitting at a table that was really two tables pushed together.

Micah sat down at the end of the table. Jeremiah was at the opposite end with the other four in between them.

The six men started immediately devouring their food. They had just gotten out of practice, so they definitely worked up some appetites.

They sat and ate in almost silence besides the occasional checking the phone to watching TikToks or small speech when one of them would show the other something from their phone.

“Aye–y’all think we rey win es homecomin’ game?” Taylor asked, stealing the fork they gave Micah, so he could bite into his macaroni and cheese he got as a side to his chicken.

“You think it was a chance of us not?” Jeremiah asked, turning his headphone volume low.

“Why you always got them on? Sum wrong witcho ears? I be seein’ you wur earplugs durin’ practice n games too,” James asked out of curiosity.

Jeremiah tensed up. He hated telling people that he was autistic. “Uh…”

Taylor raised a brow.

“A nigga jus’ got sensitive ears–you nosy,” Micah butt in. He knew how Jeremiah felt about that.

Jeremiah just looked up at Micah, blankly staring–confused as to why Micah was helping him out after just telling him that he hated him. He still recalls the words, and they still hurt.

He wasn’t expecting Micah to apologize for how he felt, but why was he helping him out? You don’t do that to someone you hate. It made Jeremiah very, very, very confused.

“Yeah… I jus’ got sensitive ears Everythang sound loud, so I jus’ wur headphone n shit,” Jeremiah nodded, going along with Micah’s idea.

James nodded, knowing from how Micah answered for him that wasn’t the truth.

On the other hand, Chase, Taylor, and Jordan peeped at the weird energy. “Y’all wurd as shit,” Jordan scoffed, then went back to eating.

“As fuck–n you two,” Taylor pointed and looked back and forth between Micah and Jeremiah. “You niggas need ta get back somewhat coo–I know damn well niggas ain’t beefin’ ova no mufuckin’ one V one?”

“Es what the fuck I sed!” Chase added on.

“Y’all sayin’ et because iss not y’all professional carur onna line–iss mine,” Micah spoke, a bit fed up with the conversation. “You know what a recruiter told me? He said, the only way I could go pro–at least, from his perspective, was ta beat him. Then my brother… they already got the best Park’s brotha–es what he sed, so niggas can stop talkin’ ta me, sayin’ it was just a one V one,” Micah told them. “Fa him, maybe,” he nodded towards Jeremiah. “Fa me,” Micah shook his head, feeling his chest get tight.

Jeremiah only watched as he spoke, not saying a word. Again, he understood why Micah hated him, and every word he spoke reaffirmed his reasoning… but it didn’t help the hurt he felt when Micah referred to him almost as if he meant nothing to him. He was ‘Just him’.

“…I understand, Micah, but… the season ain’t ova, n es plenty time ta show out. You betta than MJ anyways, n I mean et, on my mama,” Jordan spoke.

“But yo ass needa focus!” Taylor looked towards him, nodding. “Yo head been everywhur, n es not good fa basketball. I know you gotta BM n shit, but she gon’ hafta undastand if she want et glorious lifestyle that most females want,” Taylor explained. “Mufuckas don’t think you betta than MJ cuz you ain’t givin’ a hunnid.”

“Deadass tho–and niggas can have another one V one when Miah beatcho big headed ass brotha,” James spoke up, making everyone, even Jeremiah, laugh at the table. “I jus’ playin–butchu know I’m biased towards you, Micah,” James nodded, putting his arm around him.

“We all are,” Chase added. “So, don’t feel like es the end–we needa focus on havin’ fun fa yo ass be married n a daddy, so let’s hurry n finish eatin’, so Miah can pick outcho outfit, AKA us pickin’ out some bullshit fa him cuz he too nice,” Chase laughed, dapping Jordan up.

Taylor just nodded, “Aight, you niggas go furst, so y’all can have a luh brotha talk without us–get allet shit off ya chest,” he told Micah and Jeremiah.

Jeremiah raised a brow, but Taylor furrowed his brows at him, making Jeremiah roll his eyes. “Okay,” he muttered low.

Taylor and the rest of the gang whipped their heads towards Micah, knowing he was the more stubborn one.

“The fuck you bitches lookin’ at me like et fa?” Micah looked around the table, seeing Jeremiah crack a big smile in amusement, that only made his heart skip one beat. “…Fine,” he sighed, standing up from the table. “Less go fa Ion wanna do it no mo,” Micah told Jeremiah, heading towards a random direction, away from the food court.

Jeremiah only smirked, standing up without saying anything.

James on the other hand felt jealousy. 

Jeremiah followed behind Micah, not very excitedly, his hands in his pockets as he watched him lead the way.

Micah leads the two to the second floor of Macy’s. It was the closest store near them, didn’t have too many people, and he really wanted to get on the escalator.

He was going to keep that to himself though.

The two reached the second floor, going near the home section, sitting down on a couple of chairs in an area clear of workers.

Jeremiah just sat down and sighed, keeping his hands crossed in his lap, not facing Micah, but facing forward, looking at a king-sized bed in front of them.

Micah glanced over at him, looking at his side profile, admiring it and the tattoos that adorned his neck. He’s so fucking sexy… He thought to himself.

He then shook his thoughts away. He opened his mouth to speak but then closed it back up.

He was nervous. His hands were clammy and his heart rate was up.

Micah didn’t want to say the wrong thing like did many times before.

His thoughts were all over the place. He thought about starting with ‘I love you, but we can’t be together’, but he realized that was too strong and not beneficial. He thought about going to ‘Fuck you–why you treatin’ me like Ion matter ta you?’, but he realized that he would be very hypocritical.

So… he stayed silent for a while until his brain could figure out what to say.

However, Jeremiah just sat there confused–why should he have to speak first? That’s how he felt, and Micah’s silence only confirmed to him the words that Micah told him: I hate you.

“I don’t hatechu, Miah,” Micah started, cutting Jeremiah’s thoughts short. He refused to look at Jeremiah while he was speaking, or he thought, he might cry. “Ion hatechu at all… opposite of et actually…” he said low.

Jeremiah only looked over at him, “Huh?”

“I’m sorry, Jeremiah,” Micah continued. “Those words–they wasn’t meant fa you. I swur–you a nigga in my life that regardless of… what our relationship contains, I want you ta still be thur. I do, Miah. I was jus’ frustrated, jealous–if anythang, I was really talkin’ ta me,” Micah finally looked towards Jeremiah who was already looking at him. “I hate myself. I hate that I wasn’t good enough. I hate everythang about me,” Micah spoke honestly, feeling emotional.

Jeremiah only looked at him, “How you hate yoself? When thur’s niggas like me who love everythang aboutchu,” he told him without a thought, looking into his eyes.

Micah only stared at him for a second.

“ISS WOODY KENT!” the two were broken from their conversation, and Jeremiah felt a pair of arms, wrapping around his neck.

“The hell?” he chuckled, prying the person off of him.

“N you Micah right?” a woman stood in front of them both. “Ooo, y’all so fine. I found out aboutchu from seein’ et live basketball game y’all had. Maybe I wanna apply ta LU next yur, shit–whur all ‘ese fine-ass niggas comin’ from?” she laughed, making the two boys laugh too.

“Thank you, ma–you gorgeous too,” Micah smiled at her, and Jeremiah furrowed his brows.

Jeremiah then looked over at him, “Yeah, she fine,” he looked Micah up and down.

“THANK Y’AAALLL!” she screamed and jumped up and down, putting her arms around both of them.

“Shhh, shawty–Ion really want people knowin’ I’m right hur,” Jeremiah told her in her ear, making her bite down on her lip.

She just nodded, then sat down in both of their laps, “Can I get a pick fa I go?” she asked, already with her camera out.

“Well, you already doin’ it,” Micah laughed, then posed.

Jeremiah also posed, giving her one picture where he kissed her on the cheek.

“Ahhh!” she screamed, then stood up. “Thank you–have a good day, Woody,” she smiled.

“You too,” Jeremiah waved, then she left them alone again.

Micah was just looking at him with irritated eyes, “You a thirsty ass nigga. I swur.”

Jeremiah just chuckled in confusion, “H-how? What did I do?”

“Puttin’ yo mufuckin’ lips on everybody,” Micah rolled his eyes, making Jeremiah just smile.

He’s so jealous.

“Anyways,” Micah continued. “I’m sorry–you know what I be goin’ thru, n I’m sorry I sed et, n I’m sorry if I hurt yo feelins.”

“You did,” Jeremiah confirmed.

“I apologize fa et,” Micah told him. “Ian even gon’ say iss not what I meant ta do–it jus’ seem like you so perfect, n I get it cuz… you kinda are–in my eyes,” Micah spoke, looking away from Jeremiah now. “N I guess… I felt the opposite, n took it out on you, so I’m sorry,” he finished, looking back at Jeremiah who just stared at Micah.

“I love you, Micah,” Jeremiah told him, now knowing his true feelings for him. “Es all I gotta say ta et–n I know, baby mama, finance n allet, but Imma still say how the fuck I feel, and I love you,” he nodded.

Micah just stared at him back. He was speechless. He felt his heart beating a million miles per hour.

Jeremiah just chuckled, watching Micah get into his head, “Stop overthinkin’–iss not sum you needa acknowledge or respond to,” he told him, standing up and grabbing his wrist, forcing Micah to stand too. “Iss jus’ somethin’ I wantchu ta know,” he said, shrugging, looking back, and smiling widely when he saw how red Micah’s face was. “Aight, less go getcho outfit,” he chuckled, dragging them back to the escalator.

Micah only stood behind Jeremiah this time, only able to feel his heartbeat as he played with his hands.

Once they were on the first floor again, Jeremiah led Micah and himself to the men’s section. “Ian rey hoe you like ’em niggas want me to, although you look sexy in anythang you put on,” Jeremiah spoke casually.

“Stop it, Miah,” Micah told him, blushing even more. “You makin’ es harda fa me.”

“What am I makin’ hard?” Jeremiah turned around to ask him, looking him in the eyes. “I can tell you wuss hard on me right now cuz ‘a you,” he bit down on his lip, nodding, and Micah bit down on his too, for he almost moaned out loud just from the way Jeremiah talked to him, and his voice. Micah thought it was enticing.

“Stop,” Micah told him.

Jeremiah smirked and backed away, “Aight–you right. Baby mama… futcha wife. Got it. Got it.” He just laughed and put his hands up in surrender.

Micah just sighed, following Jeremiah as they searched through outfits. “Ion wanna wur no damn suit,” he smacked his lips, looking at the tuxedo in Jeremiah’s hands.

“You–nigga who lost the match, do NOT get a mufuckin’ saayyyy,” Jeremiah teased, dragging out his words.

Micah just groaned loudly and obnoxiously. “Fuck you, nigga.”

“We can right hur if you want,” Jeremiah teased, making Micah run up and mush him in the face.

“Shut the fuck up,” Micah told him as they lowkey started wrestling in the store.

Jeremiah only laughed as Micah put him in a headlock. “Shut the fatass lips up,” Micah spat.

“You like ‘ese fat mufuckas when they lickin’ all ova y–”

“Jeremiah!” Micah smacked his lips.

“Sorry, Micah–I can’t breave tho–” Jeremiah choked out a bit, feeling Micah squeeze tighter after his comment.

Micah quickly let him go, “My bad…” he folded his arms. “You jus’ needa shut the fuck up,” he nodded.

“Okay,” Jeremiah nodded, smiling big towards him which only made Micah blush and avert his eyes.

“Don’t do et bullshit neitha,” Micah scoffed.

Jeremiah just laughed. “Damn, do a nigga need ta stop breavin’ too?” he chuckled. Micah looked at him and raised a brow, about to open his mouth. “Don’tchu dur. Fuck you,” Jeremiah smacked his lips.

“Unlike yo gay ass, I’m sayin’—neva,” Micah smiled.

“You can’t say neva,” Jeremiah mocked him. “We already diiid,” he laughed, trolling him, and again, Micah was sitting there speechless.

“Jus’ pick out my fuckin’ fit, nigga,” Micah groaned following behind him.

Jeremiah then led the two around the store, with a basket you can carry, filling it with items he’d think would look good on Micah.

Micah just stood beside him, questioning a lot of his choices, but… it was a bet.

A stupid ass bet. Nigga rey have me looking like Cee Lo Green or something.

“Aight, first outfit–yes, issa suit. Trust me. You can make a suit look swaggy,” Jeremiah nodded, handing him the clothes.

Micah snatched it from his hand, “Whateva,” he spoke, going into the changing room. As he changed, he heard Jeremiah playing his new song. Jeremiah was checking his views on YouTube, and his video amassed almost one hundred thousand in just a couple of weeks. “Bitch, I did it all. Micah Parks so criminal,” Micah unconsciously sang Jeremiah’s rap lyrics.

Jeremiah was only amused, smiling when he heard Micah singing his lyrics. “Okay-what next?” he chuckled.

A smile just formed on Micah’s face as his face heated a bit, “Smoove criminal—which I think you should rap on et beat next,” Micah suggested.

“You think so?” Jeremiah raised a brow. He did see a few comments like that on his YouTube page, but he was intimidated by rapping over a legend’s instrumental… and it was a pop song. Not a rap song. “I did think about it,” he spoke.

“Hell, yeah—iss da only smart move,” Micah smiled as he put on his pants, first, looking in the mirror to make sure they fit correctly. “Smoove criminal—Ion do subliminals!” Micah repeated, looking into the mirror, and checking himself out.

“Freestyle then, big Micah—not the luh one,” Jeremiah laughed through the door.

“Nah, nah, nah—es you,” Micah chuckled. “I do love yo music tho, Jeremiah—real shit,” Micah told him, causing Jeremiah to smile even wider, feeling his heart throb a bit.

“Thank you,” Jeremiah smiled. “You ready yet?” he asked impatiently.

“No!” Micah yelled back, then focused on putting together the outfit Jeremiah gave him.

He looked in the mirror, “Hmm,” he hummed, surprised by the fact that he did look good. “I mean I always look good, but—I’M READY!” Micah yelled out, opening the door.

Jeremiah looked him up and down, “Whatchu think?” he asked, eyeing the slightly oversized, black suit, paired with a deep burgundy button-down with the collar folding over the suit jacket, and a nice cream undershirt. It matched the school colors. “Wait, c’mur,” he snatched Micah from inside the room. He started unbuttoning his red button-down, letting Micah’s chest and the undershirt show. “You jus’ need some ice,” Jeremiah told him, taking off his gold Cuban he had on and placing it around Micah’s neck.

He got close, and Micah felt his heartbeat speeding up.

Jeremiah then pulled back, aggressively turning Micah around, so he could look into the dressing-room mirror. “Cuff yo jacket—pair es wit a watch, n maybe a couple rings,” he said, standing behind him, looking at Micah through the mirror.

Micah only blushed more when he saw Jeremiah’s expression in the mirror, and how he looked him up and down. “I do look good,” Micah nodded, trying to break the tension-filled silence.

“Mmph,” Jeremiah shook his head. “You do,” he nodded. “Next outfit,” he gestured with his hand for Micah to go back into the dressing room, handing him the next outfit he had picked.

It was a denim outfit. A jacket and matching dickies pants that were big enough that they sagged a bit off of Micah’s waist. It was accompanied by a white T-shirt. “I feel like es more yo speed,” Jeremiah shouted through the door. “Rock em wit some Retro 11 Legend blues,” Jeremih nodded.

“Hell, yeah,” Micah smiled, looking and imagining as Jeremih spoke while he put on his outfit. “N a snapback,” he added.

“Mmhmm,” Jeremiah nodded. “Allet.”

Micah just smiled, looking at himself in the mirror, still with Jeremiah’s chain on. “I like es a lot, Miah,” he chuckled.

“Well, lemme see, sexy,” Jeremiah blurted.

Micah just rolled his eyes, pulling the door open. “Whatchu thank?” he asked.

Jeremiah only nodded, rubbing his chin. “I did my shit, fareal,” he told him.

Smacking his lips, Micah scoffed. “I mean, I guess you did a luh sum, Woody,” he teased, smiling, only making Jeremiah smile too.

He then started giggling as he grabbed the last outfit he had. “Hollon—I grabbed one mo’—you gotta try es one on,” he smirked. “Close yo eyes.”

“What?” Micah made a confused face, furrowing his brows.

“Close your eyes,” Jeremiah told him, and Micah just deeply sighed, and did as told.

He then felt as Jeremiah put just one item in his hands, and then shoved him through the door, closing it.

Micah opened his eyes, looking down at his hand. “You got me fucked up,” Micah scoffed.

Jeremiah just started busting out laughing, clapping his hands.

“Oh, niggas thank shit is sweet now?” Micah smacked his lips, looking in the mirror, holding up a bottom piece of women’s lingerie. It was a red lace thong with thigh garters. “This bitch lost his mind right afta we made up,” Micah scoffed again.

Jeremiah only continued to laugh. “You gotta try it on! Rememba— iss what I say you gotta whur.”

“Kill me den,” Micah shrugged, “You thank Imma wur some lingerie in front of thousands?” he chuckled.

“No, but I thank you’a put it on fa me real quick,” Jeremiah responded.

Micah only stayed silent. “Are you serious?” he asked.

“Mmhmm, jus’ lemme see. I’m curious. Not even on no horny shit, I-” Jeremih chuckled. “I jus’ wanna see yo big ass in it,” he told him with a laugh. “It might look good tho’. Yo ass fat.” he said that part low though.

Not low enough that Micah didn’t hear, but he’d let him slide this time.

Micah began stripping himself until he was left in his briefs and the shirt he wore there—just a black Hanes shirt.

He sighed and rolled his eyes before biting down on his lip and pulling his briefs down letting them fall to his ankles.

Micah took them off completely, curious too as to what he’d look like in them.

He averted his eyes from the mirror because he was hard as hell. Jeremiah had been teasing him, and he’d always been weak to it, but he was not going to give in and lose everything.

Grabbing the lingerie, he bent down and stepped into it, pulling it up his thighs.

Once it was all the way on, he frowned. “My dick squished.”

“Oh—you really put et hoe on?” Jeremiah asked.

Micah just kept quiet, opening the door, “I look stupid as fuck,” he chuckled. “N my dick squished.”

Jeremiah almost felt his heart stop. He didn’t say anything before he just started walking towards Micah, slowly making Micah take steps back into the dressing room, and closing the door behind them. “Whatchu doin’, Jeremiah?”

“Turn around,” Jeremiah told him, grabbing his shoulders and spinning him around so that Micah’s back was facing him.

Jeremiah put some space in between them, looking down at Micah’s ass. He looked back up, seeing Micah look back at him. “You dirty. You like es shit huh?” he asked.

Nodding, Jeremiah only grabbed Micah’s wrist, bending him over the seat. He then let go of his wrist, and Micah put his hands down on the seat, so he wouldn’t fall, feeling Jeremiah grab his waist, putting his hard-on against his ass, pressing it between his asscheeks. “Jeremiah,” Micah breathed.

Ignoring him, Jeremiah smacked, rubbed, and grabbed Micah’s ass, mesmerized by the sight. “I’a fuck you right in es,” Jeremiah told him, grabbing one of his wrists, putting it behind his back, using his free hand to spread open Micah’s ass cheeks, and pressing his hard dick that was only sheathed by his briefs, for Jeremiah dick felt as if it would explode in his shorts, so he pulled them down.

Micah bit down on his lip because a moan was about to escape his mouth, especially when he felt Jeremiah’s dick graze over his hole that was also covered by the thin, lace fabric. “Stop,” he breathed low.

“I would do you jus’ like es,” Jeremiah grabbed his other wrist, grabbing both of them and pinned them to Micah’s back as he started dry-humping him, giving Micah medium-paced hip thrusts.

“S-Stop,” Micah panted, feeling Jeremiah keep both of his wrists pinned with one hand, smacking his ass with the other while he simulated fucking him. That only made Micah even hornier, considering he already knew what Jeremiah’s dick felt like inside of him. “Jeremiaaah,” he actually moaned, and Jeremiah only spread him open again, pressing his dick as much as he could, making Micah’s eyes roll back.

There was a stain of dark grey in Jeremiah’s briefs from his precum—and let’s just say Micah had to buy the lingerie now.

“Aight, I’m done,” Jeremiah smacked his ass one more time, to see it jiggle, causing Micah to let out a low whimper and feel his dick throb. “Cuz if I keep goin’…” he shook his head, rubbing his hands along Micah’s ass and back.

Imma fuck you till yo brain stupid. Right in this dressing room. Jeremiah thought, looking down at Micah’s position once more. “Boy, the thangs I’a do ta you,” he said low to himself before letting Micah go.

Micah only stood up and caught his breath, for he was turned on to the max, unexpectedly. He then jumped out of his skin, hearing his phone ring.

He then took a deep breath, picking it up and answering it. “Whur y’all et, n why niggas ain’t checkin’ the group chat?” Jordan spoke on the phone.

Micah couldn’t lie, he’d totally forgotten they were there with the other four.

…Jeremiah did too.

“Umm—we at Macy’s…” Micah. “I already gotta outfit, so we can jus’ meetchall whureva,” Micah told him, feeling Jeremiah wrap his arms around his torso from behind, sliding his tongue against Micah’s neck. Jeremiah couldn’t help it. Micah was irresistible.

Micah turned around, frowning and pushing him away. He rolled his eyes, then refocused on the conversation.

Jeremiah only chuckled, then he pressed Micah against the wall with his body, looking into his eyes, leaning down, gently pecking his lips, smiling after, which made Micah only lose focus even more—even more when Jeremiah slid his hand down Micah’s back, down his lower back, admiring the small curve in it before he reached Micah’s ass, palming and rubbing it.

“Es lame as shit, but whateva, aight. Meet us at at footlocker then. I need some Retros,” Jordan told him, then hung up.

Micah then released the breath he was holding as he made intense eye contact with Jeremiah. His dark, deep brown eyes stared into Micah’s green ones. “Back up.”

“Jus’ lemme eat it—one time,” Jeremiah asked as he kneaded Micah’s ass in his hand. “I swur.”

“O-Okay,” Micah agreed. Jeremiah was so persuasive.

He could hardly ever resist him, but let this really be the last thing they do.

Jeremiah only smiled with a devilish grin before turning Micah around, making him arch against the wall before he dropped down to his knees. He pulled the thong Micah still sported to the side, using his other hand to spread him open, biting his lips at Micah’s small, tight, and pinkish hole.

He stuck his tongue out, swiping over it, “Fuck,” Micah let out a groan.

His eyes rolled back, and he swore, he almost came from just that. It was like his body craved him.

“Baby,” Micah moaned out in a softer voice when Jeremiah started tongue-kissing his hole, licking and sucking on it with his plump lips. “Oh, shit,” Micah breathed, feeling his legs get weak.

One of Jeremiah’s free hands ripped the thong from around his front, so he could grab Micah’s dick.

“Fuck, nigga,” Micah panted, feeling Jeremiah trying to wiggle his tongue into his hole. “God, Jeremiah,” Micah almost whimpered at the foreign feeling, combined with the sensation of Jeremiah’s hand stroking his dick.

He pushed Jeremiah’s head back, only to be met with his hand being restrained to his back once more. “Stop playin’ wit me aight?” Jeremiah asked, then went right back to eating him.

Micah kept his hands to himself—at least, he attempted to, but Jeremiah made it hard, especially when he used his other hand to spread Micah’s open, so he could start pushing his tongue into Micah’s hole at the same time he focused his hand on the tip of Micah’s dick.

Of course, Micah felt his legs start to shake, “Jeremiah,” he moaned out, letting out some higher-pitched hums and pants. “Mmm,” he hummed in almost a whine, pushing Jeremiah’s head back again. “Imma nut, baby,” he breathed deeply.

Jeremiah sighed, “So nut, Micah—fuck you keep touchin’ me fa?” he asked, turning him around so that Micah was now facing him as he stayed on his knees.

Micah only was turned on even more by his dominance. It was times when Micah didn’t want to be in control, and so he was drawn towards people with dominant energy.

Micah just down at him, sitting down on the seat, raising a brow when Jeremiah grabbed the base of his dick. “M-Miah, whatchu doin’?” Micah asked, and Jeremiah just shrugged.

“Guide me, baby,” Jeremiah told him with a smirk, then opened his mouth wide, doing his best not to brush Micah’s dick up against his teeth as he wrapped his plump lips around the head of it.

Micah’s eyes almost fell from his skull in shock. Never in life could he have imagined Jeremiah on his knees for him like this.

If anything, he imagined himself on his knees—Micah really meant it when he told Jeremiah that he could do anything he wanted.

However, Micah didn’t have much time to think before his eyes rolled to the back of his head, feeling Jeremiah take more of his dick into his mouth. “Ooohh, Miah-you wilin’, my nigga,” he breathed, putting his hands in Jeremiah’s hair, gripping it. “Baby,” he moaned a bit softer at the sensation of Jeremiah’s lips sliding back and forth along a third of his length.

He felt Jeremiah’s teeth graze up against his shaft a few times, but it only made him shudder. He just squirmed, attempting to follow his directions. “You doin’ good, baby,” he breathed, biting down on his lip.

Micah gently put his hands on Jeremiah’s head, gently guiding his mouth, “Suck it fa me,” he told him, looking down into his eyes, feeling Jeremiah hollow out his cheeks to create a tighter suction. “Mmmhm, nigga—” he paused, feeling his mouth hanging open, and Jeremiah almost choked from chuckling around his dick.

“Keep et up,” Jeremiah nodded, putting Micah’s dick back in his mouth, then doing what Micah instructed him to do, feeling Micah pushing his head up and down on him, but not too much that he’d gag.

“I’m rey nut,” Micah breathed heavily.

His phone then rang again, making him groan as he grabbed it, and his eyebrows furrowed, seeing Jeremiah never stop moving his mouth on him. “Hello,” Micah spoke in an oddly, deep ass voice to attempt to contain the noises.

“Fuck, y’all at?” Jordan asked as Micah’s eyes rolled to the back of his skull while fought to not moan aloud, looking down at Jeremiah looking like the sexiest thing he’d ever witnessed with his dick in his mouth.

Jeremiah pulled off of him to put his finger to his wet lips, “Shh,” he winked up at Micah before grabbing the bottoms of Micah’s thighs, pushing them towards his stomach, leaning back down and slobbing on Micah’s hole, then shoving his tongue back inside.

This ain’t fucking fair!!!! Micah thought, “Issa-long-line,” Micah quickly breathed.

“Tell et nigga we onna way,” Jeremiah raised his head to say loudly.

“Man, tell Miah I said ‘Fuck you!’,” Jordan spat back.

Jeremiah only laughed before he started sucking on Micah’s hole again. “W-We will be onna wait, aight,” he did his best to speak.

“Fuck wrong witchu? Es nigga gotchu cryin’, on some sad shit,” Jordan asked, but Micah barely listened when Jeremiah grabbed his dick again, stroking it while he shoved his tongue in him as best as he could, then pulling it out, then doing it again.

“We-onna-way,” Micah breathed, then hung up, throwing his phone to the side. “Oh, shit, Miah,” Micah moaned. “Fuck, I-I-Imma nut, baby,” his head dropped and his mouth hung open, letting out sweeter moans which just made Jeremiah’s dick jump in his briefs.

“I been told you ta do et,” Jeremiah breathed, continuing to eat and stroke his dick.

“Hmm, mmph, fuck, da—baby,” Micah almost slipped up in a moan as his hips bucked a bit, cumming into Jeremiah’s hand.

Micah only breathed heavily, biting down on his lip and shaking his head.

You so stupid, Micah. Now, how in the hell am I supposed to get over him now? He thought, facepalming himself with a bit of regret, thinking of Meilie’s words.

“Neva again, aight,” Jeremiah told him with a nod. “I’a stop allet shit if you really want me to—Ion wanna fuck up nun you got goin’, Micah—I want it ta be a mutual thang,” he said.

“It’s not that it’s not—nigga, I letchu fuck me, you should know that it’s mutual but…” Micah shook his head.

“It ain’t right,” Jeremiah shook his head.

Micah sighed, looking away from him as he got dressed, “Nah, n we got too much ta lose ta be f*—gay men,” Micah corrected himself, then looked towards Jeremiah.

“Yeah,” Jeremiah sighed, somberly and looked away from Micah, then felt his head being turned back towards Micah, who leaned in and pressed his lips against Jeremiah’s.

Jeremiah gently held Micah’s waist as they kissed, gently tugging on each other’s lips, “You know I love you too, right?” Micah asked low close to his face.

“I know now,” Jeremiah spoke, looking deeply into Micah’s eyes. “But…”

“We c-can’t, Miah,” Micah’s voice cracked a bit. “You know et. Iss no way. We not bitches who might can get away wit it,” he shook his head. “Too much ta lose,” he nodded as they both just kept their foreheads pressed against each other’s.

“I love you too, Micah—es somethin’ es always rey be,” Jeremiah told him, grabbing his chin to kiss his lips a few more times. “Aight, I’m done, no more—focusin’ on bein’ frens…” the word stung to them both. “Focusin’ on yo baby, fiance—me wit my career, us wit basketball n goin’ pro,” he finished.

Micah nodded. “Yeah…” he said sadly. “I love you, Jeremiah Kentwood,” he told him one more time.

“I love you too, Micah Parks,” Jeremiah kissed his lips once more.

The two then broke apart, deciding to leave everything about their secret relationship in that dressing room.

It would stay there. No more kisses, nothing sexual, nothing that crossed those lines.

They knew it wouldn’t work out, so why continue?

It wouldn’t be as easy though, and they both knew that.

They were too drawn to one another.

Once they left the dressing room, they finally went to the cash register, seeing that there was actually no line, they checked out immediately, then quickly left the store before they got another phone call from their friends, and it would look even more suspicious then.

They found the boys still lingering around in Footlocker, unsurprised that they were still there, for basketball players and their shoes had a deep relationship.

“Aye, can you size me up jus’ a half?” Taylor asked as he tried on his Retro ones, looking over to see Jeremiah and Micah finally walking into the store. “You niggas finally hur,” Taylor smacked his lips.

Jeremiah smiled, walking over and dapping him up. The two washed their hands in the bathroom at Macy’s before they even checked out.

Micah smiled, walking around, heading over to James, who was visibly irritated, bouncing his knee up and down as he sat on one of the benches in the store.

“Fuck wrong witchu?” Micah asked with a light chuckle, sitting down next to him.

“Y’all pissed me off–fuck was y’all takin’ so long fa?” James asked, looking at him raising a brow, tilting his head to the side.

“You mad fa what, like niggas ain’t still in Footlocker. Niggas jus’ shopped while we was thur,” Micah scoffed at James’ weird energy.

Of course, James knew the reason they had been gone that long. He knew Jeremiah, and Jeremiah struggled with keeping his hands to himself, he knew Jeremiah liked Micah a lot, so his mind went everywhere about what they could’ve been doing.

“Ian mad–jus’ annoyed,” James calmed himself, so he wouldn’t seem odd… until Jeremiah walked over there, and he felt his soul become irritated. “Welcome back, Kentwood,” James nodded toward him.

Jeremiah raised a brow, “Kentwood? Since when–nevamind, wassup, James,” he greeted him back. “You seem like you gotta prolum?” Jeremiah asked.

“Never,” James simply spoke, and Micah just looked back and forth between them, he then stared at Jeremiah’s face.

Am I thinking what I’m thinking? And if I am, who rey get bitch slapped? Micah thought.

“Y’all fu–” Micah almost blurted, then stopped. “Nevamind,” Micah just chuckled, standing to his feet. “Ain’t no way,” he muttered to himself, walking away.

“Fucks wrong witchu now?” Jeremiah asked with a raised brow, about to follow after him, but James grabbed his wrist to stop him.

Jeremiah looked down at him. “Y’all fucked or sum? Even tho’ niggas keep lyin’ ’bout what you n Micah is?” he asked, a bit of ire lacing his voice.

Raising his brow, Jeremiah looked backward, then back at James, “You talkin ta me?” he asked with a smirk as he pointed to his chest.

James scoffed, feeling bold, “Who else?” he asked, feeling like Jeremiah was playing with him a bit. He was tired of being the other one.

Jeremiah just smiled, “Aye, I respect you, James, so I’m rey walk away but keep on questionin’ what me n anotha nigga got when you not my nigga of any sorts, n iss rey be a prolum, fareal,” he told him, sternly.

Shaking his head, James just nodded, clenching his jaw, “Bet dat, nigga,” he told him. “You dismissed, bitch,” James spoke out of pettiness.

Jeremiah just laughed, “Aye, niggas is gettin’ besides themselves, rememba Ian nun of ‘ese suburbian, soft, hoe ass niggas ’round hur, okay? Stop fuckin’ wimme n less jus’ be coo’ n have a good time.”

Only nigga I let call me out my name like that is Micah…

Jeremiah didn’t wait for him to respond, he just walked away completely, heading over to where Taylor and Jordan were trying on shoes. He looked over to see Chase and Micah trying on shoes on the bench next to them.

“Aye, sir—wrap es hoes up fa me—these ones too!” Jordan pointed at a couple of boxes, handing them to the employee who just laughed and nodded.

“Meet me at the register, please,” he smiled, and then Jordan stood up with Jeremiah replacing him in his spot.

“So, how y’all luh talk go?” Taylor asked. “I rememba you sayin’ y’all shit deep, so I know it wasn’t jus’ no game, but Ian rey ask the details cuz Ion know if I wanna know,” Taylor chuckled.

“You don’t,” Jeremiah shook his head.

“I really don’t… but, I might,” Taylor looked over to him.

“Why?”

“Cuz… niggas is… you know confused,” he emphasized. “Life is confusin’,” Taylor nodded, being very subtle with the way he was wording things.

Jeremiah only blinked at him. He was actually confused. “Right…” he nodded.

He needed people to speak plainly to him.

“Yeah, anyways,” Taylor chuckled, looking away for a moment, his eyes widening when he saw who just walked through the door. “Nigga… is et MJ n ‘Lia?” he asked, referring to Michael Jr and Kelia.

Jeremiah looked over in the direction Taylor was looking. “Oh, shit,” he spoke. He then looked over at Micah who was laughing, clowning Chase for some shoes he liked and tried on.

“Aye, Micah,” Taylor stood up, walking over to him. “Youn think es weird?” he asked, grabbing his hand, taking him to where Jeremiah and Taylor were sitting, then pointing in the direction of Michael Jr, who was already getting recognized by a few people for being an NBA star.

Micah followed Taylor’s finger with his eyes, “The fuck?” he almost said loudly.

Jeremiah just made the yikes face. “Is is a good time ta mention that they also was at es party me, Drey, n Mar was et,” he spoke up.

Micah looked down at him and furrowed his eyes, “Fuck you mean? N you ain’t tell me?” Micah told him, and Jeremiah sighed, standing up.

“Micah–”

“Nah, I’m rey see wuss goin’ the fuck on,” Micah walked over to the two. He grabbed Kelia’s wrist. “Wassup, baby–MJ–a nigga wasn’t invited ta the outtin’? Mama or Dad ain’t witchall?” he asked, and Kelia just looked at him nervously.

“Hey, Micah–Michael n I jus’ met up here. It was a coincidence, n he offered to buy the baby some shoes, n a couple of other gifts,” she explained, looking away a bit.

Michael Jr came around, putting his arm around Micah’s shoulder. “What she said, bro–you think Imma weirdo? I’m jus’ tryna get my niece or nephew somethin’,” he nodded. “I saw her by herself, n I’m yo big brotha, so I hadda make sure she good,” he smiled.

Micah just nodded, “Uh huh,” he moved away from Michael Jr, grabbing Kelia. “Well, I’m hur now, so I’ll get ha home, thank you fa the gifts, bro–you can drop ’em off at the baby showa,” Micah told him.

Michael Jr just smirked, “Okay,” he smiled. “Bye, baby brother,” he smiled, then looked towards Kelia who looked away from him. “Bye, Lia.”

He then left the store.

“Didn’t et nigga say he was buyin’ da baby some shoes?” Jeremiah asked Taylor in his ear.

Taylor looked back at him. “You think they?” he asked.

Jeremiah sighed, “For Micah’s sake, I hope the fuck not,” he spoke genuinely, knowing how rough Micah already had it. He was worried about him.

•••

“Ion even got my fuckin’ cah!” Micah groaned as the six boys and Kelia left the store about to leave the mall entirely. “N Lia,” he turned to her. “Essa no fa me. Youn needa be hangin’ ’round et nigga by yoself,” he nodded.

Kelia just nodded towards him. “I-I don’t usually,” she told him, but Micah scoffed, knowing that was a lie.

“You fuckin’ et nigga?” he asked, pulling her to the side as they arrived outside.

“Are you serious, Micah?” Kelia asked him.

“Ain’t that what I asked?” he spoke.

Kelia scoffed, “So because you are a serial cheater that means I’m one too?” she asked, flipping it back on him.

“I know you ain’t flippin’ shit on me!” Micah almost raised his voice.

“Nah. If you’re gonna yell, Micah…” her voice started to shake a bit.

Micah sighed and breathed deeply, “Look, sorry fa yellin’, n no, Ion thank you fuckin’ him, Lia, but you know MJ don’t really have no good intentions, n I peep the way et nigga look atchu sometimes, but I be tryna keep the fuckin’ peace,” he explained.

Kelia nodded, “And I get that, but it doesn’t mean I’m doing anything to go against you, Micah–It was innocent. Truly,” she told him, looking up into his eyes.

A weight was lifted off of Micah’s shoulders, but then a bigger weight weighed down on them again.

She’s right though. I just fucked up, again.

Fuck.

“Aye, I can take ha home since youn gotcho cah, Micah,” Jeremiah came over and offered.

Micah looked back at him. This nigga be fucking with my mental… Stop being fucking perfect.

Bitch.

“Okay,” Micah nodded. “We goin’ wit Miah–es coo’?” Micah asked Kelia.

She nodded, grabbing Micah’s hand.

The six boys then split and parted ways with Micah, Jeremiah, and Kelia in one car, the others in Chase’s. James was offered to be in Jeremiah’s car too–Jeremiah extending an olive branch from their heated interaction earlier, but he turned it down.

There was a lot going on in that car, and James was already in a bad mood.

The car ride was mostly silent with Micah just looking out of the window, irritated, watching the trees and city infrastructure as Jeremiah drove back after dropping Kelia off.

Jeremiah glanced over at him every five minutes. “You good?” he asked.

Micah just sighed, “Ion know if I eva felt good, Miah,” he answered.

Except when I’m with you… except when you piss me the fuck off.

Micah rolled his eyes, bouncing his knee up and down, thinking of the possibility that he and James could be fucking around.

However, he didn’t want to speak on it to James, and potentially risk him exposing himself, ruining their friendship, and then with Jeremiah, he just didn’t want him to confirm it because that would mean he wasn’t as important and special to Micah–the possibility that he could feel the way he did, say the things to him that he said… to James too.

Jeremiah just sighed, feeling saddened by Micah’s words. “I really wish I could take all yo pain away,” Jeremiah reached over to grab his hand, interlocking their fingers.

Micah took a deep breath. He squeezed Jeremiah’s hand tightly. “I don’t wish my life on nobody, Miah,” Micah wiped his eyes.

•••

a couple of days later

“Micah, great job,” his professor smiled at him, looking over the pots he made.

In the first couple weeks of class, they were focusing on throwing ceramic pots on the wheel.

Micah looked up at him and smiled, feeling warm inside. “You think so, fareal?” he asked him.

“Yes,” he nodded. “I was shocked when you told me this was your first art class,” he smiled again. “Keep up the great work, okay?” he told him.

Micah nodded, and smiled wide, “Yeah.”

He then felt Meilie and Junie who were also in the class with him, pat his back. “See, Micah,” Meilie smiled at him. He just looked back at her, nodding.

Their professor then went to the front of the class and dismissed them.

“Aight, Imma see y’all later,” Junie told Micah and Meilie before heading off. “Byeeeee.”

“Byeeeee,” Meilie waved to her, then went with Micah to head towards his dorm.

As they walked there, she decided to finally ask her nosy questions. “So… you back in yo dorms, huh? I’m guessin’ y’all made up,” she asked as they stopped by the student center to get some food.

“Issa long story,” Micah chuckled.

“I got time, nigga,” Meilie nodded, making Micah laugh.

“If you tell me how you fuckin’ Dreya,” Micah called her out.

Meilie’s mouth dropped open, “Right,” Micah busted out laughing.

The two then grabbed their food, getting some buffalo wings, and then they decided to sit down outside at one of the picnic tables.

“So, sill it, white girl,” Meilie trolled.

“Fuck you, n et dy–you lucky I’m changin’, Mei,” Micah smacked his lips, hearing her laugh before he sighed, deeply. “So… them goofy niggas forced me ta keep the bet I made wit him about him choosin’ my outfit n shit. Obviously, niggas also know us, so they feel the weird energy, and they wanted us ta talk, n I owed him an apology,” Micah explained.

He deeply sighed, then continued, “We talked then… he told me he loved me–”

“WHAT?” Meilie basically screamed.

“Girl—”

“Sorry, but that gagged me!” Meilie grabbed a fry.

“Yeah,” Micah sighed. “I apologized, we made up, then…” Micah facepalmed himself.

“Y’all fucked, again?” Meilie asked, quieter this time.

Micah shook his head, “Almost—n I let him eat my ass,” he confessed. “N he kinda sucked my dick too,” he finished, crossing his hands on the table, averting his eyes.

“I—” Meilie started to speak. “Y’all might as well have fucked,” she smacked her lips.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Afta et tho, we agreed that we can’t continue—our careers and other thangs are more important than us lovin’ each other,” Micah spoke, kind of sad.

Meilie pouted, “I’m sorry, Micah—you know, Ion feel et way, but I understand why you think you can’t be with him…” She stopped, shaking her head.

She felt awful for him. She kept replaying his words. Other things are more important than us loving each other.

Why though? She thought.

“I think… if you feel that way, maybe it’s best you do move out of the dorm—living together will only keep causin’ trouble,” she told him. “Y’all gon’ start fuckin’,” Meilie nodded sipping her drink. “It ain’t no amount of willpower inna world, n you a man, Micah. Get outta thur, quickly,” she nodded with speed.

“But me n the nigga ain’t fucked since months n months ago—like September, October. Iss rey be February,” Micah explained.

“And in that time, y’all have done what? Everythang except have sex?” Meilie blinked at him.

Micah smacked his lips, letting out an annoyed huff.

“Like, sorry, Micah, but you weak inna knees,” Meilie laughed. “You fold ta him every sing time,” she said. “Es a dangerous nigga ta live wit—and both of y’all jus’ confessed love for one another. How you thank es rey end up, Micah. Be serious.”

“Yeah… n I really meant what I sed—I wanna do right by my family,” Micah nodded, honestly, telling himself more than her. “Anyways, less go back ta my place n chill, n so we can model fa each other fa homework,” Micah told her, standing from the table.

Their art professor tasked them with some figure drawings—drawing the pose of one another quickly but with accuracy.

“Okay, bet,” she nodded. As they headed to his dorm, Micah was greeted by a bunch of other students. He was popular, but he just didn’t feel that deep of a connection with anyone other than some of his teammates and Meilie.

Meilie only stood around anxiously, for she just wanted to get to his dorm quickly.

After Micah had his meet and greet–what Meilie would call it, the two headed to the athletic dorm building.

They headed inside, going to the third floor. They started walking down the hallway, turning the corner to go to room 303. However, when they bent the corner, they saw a figure with his arm crossed.

“Fuck,” Micah spoke low. Meilie just looked between them both.

“Es yo daddy?” she asked, and Micah nodded.

“Unfortunately. Ion know if I should leave you hur or…” Micah sighed.

“Ian no pussy,” Meilie chuckled, grabbing his hand. “I gotchu, coo?” she told him, making Micah smile down at her.

“MICAH!” He whipped his head towards his father, seeing him already walking towards the two.

Michael Sr approached them, frowning. He looked down at Meilie holding Micah’s hand. “Son-“

“She’s just a friend,” Micah explained.

Michael Sr scoffed, “I don’t give a damn who she is,” he told him, completely ignoring Meilie’s existence. “When you are in public, you honor your future wife, and that not holding other females hands. To the public, Micah Parks is a cheater, and he’s on every fuckin’ blog and new outlet in the city. You get what I’m saying?” he looked directly into his eyes.

Micah only clenched his jaw and nodded.

“Sir, I’m not inta men…” Meilie butted in, and Micah’s eyes only went wider, and he whipped his head so fast towards her.

Now, why and the fuck would you say that?

Michael Sr only furrowed his brows, then looked at Micah, “Excuse me, I need to talk to my son, alone.” He then grabbed Micah and headed towards his dorm. “You may go back to where you came before here—it’s gonna be a long talk,” he looked back to say to Meilie who just stood there.

She understood even better as to why Micah acted the way he did. Meilie only could imagine what he had to go through. She worried for her friend.

Meilie only watched them walk away, imagining Micah as a bomb with limited time.

She didn’t know how it was going to play out, but she would try her best to keep her friend on Earth.

She knew the signs because she’d been there before.

“Dad—”

“Just open the door. I don’t need people like her in our business. The hell are you hanging around gays and d*kes for?” Michael Sr asked. “Do you not care about your reputation at all?” he started to raise his voice behind Micah who was doing his best to open the door.

Once he did, he quickly walked inside, and only mentally cursed himself upon seeing Jeremiah there already.

Michael Sr only scoffed. “Speakin’ of reputation—” he walked over to Jeremiah who just furrowed his brows. “My son wants a rematch—that bullshit you pulled throughout the game and at the end—”

“Dad—”

“Shut up, Micah because I’m about to get on your ass too for losing to bottom of the barrel, ghetto, gutter trash who just uses cheap ass tricks!” Michael Sr yelled.

Jeremiah only laughed, then laughed even louder, gaining both Micah and Michael St’s attention. “The hell is the matter with you, boy!”

“Aye, speakin’ of the ghetto, gutta nigga you was talkin’ ’bout,” Jeremiah stepped closer to Michael Sr, looking him in the eyes. “I. AM. NOTCHO. FUCKIN’. SON, nigga!” Jeremiah told him. “Ion give a fuck ’bout whatchu thank about me, nigga—I’M ME, NIGGA! Fuck you talmbout—”

He paused when he felt a hand go across his face.

“Dad, are you fucking serious?!” Micah yelled, rushing over and pulling him back.

“Aye, Micah,” Jeremiah spoke as he kept the same position, slowly looking at the two. “Getcho fuckin’ daddy fa I beat his ass, on my life.”

Micah looked at Jeremiah, seeing his hands and body shake. “Beat who—you young niggas think just because you’re young you can win!” Michael Sr yelled.

“Let’s go, please—it’s not his fault! It’s mine. Imma be better, Dad. I swur,” Micah pleaded. “Please.”

“I’m not going anywhere I pay for,” Michael Sr stared at Jeremiah with his hands crossed.

Jeremiah just nodded. “Outta respect fa yo son, Imma leave,” he spoke, quickly walking past the two.

“I’m sorry, Jeremiah,” Micah told him on the way out, but Jeremiah ignored him just leaving, which only made Micah feel worse.

Jeremiah was so angry that he couldn’t form words at the time, so he said nothing and left. He was triggered.

It reminded him of the times when his foster father would put his hands on him.

“Dad, why would you hit him?” Micah asked with a slightly raised voice.

Michael Sr scoffed, “You defending him like that’s your man. I mean, you hang out with gay girls now, what’s NEXT, MICAH!” he yelled. “HUH? Why do you keep embarrassing this family? You don’t mean to tell me, that I look on the fucking TV and see that you LOST! TO HIM!” he yelled. “I mean–the fuck is it going to take for you, Micah? What is it going to take for you to take your fucking life seriously? I mean, I know you couldn’t beat MJ, but that rapper, junkie, trash–” he scoffed. “You let that beat you?” he asked.

Micah just sat there quietly, letting his father yell. It’s not like anything he said would have mattered.

He kept his fist balled up, for he was so fucking angry that his father hit Jeremiah.

I swear if you wasn’t my father, I woulda beat the shit outta you. That was Micah’s only thought. The only one.

He and Jeremiah had gotten on decent terms only for his father to ruin it.

“I don’t understand where we went wrong with you,” Michael Sr folded his arms, shaking his head as he looked at Micah. “I really don’t. I mean MJ is a star–do you know look at your brother and want what he has? To achieve what he has?”

“I do!” Micah huffed in an aggressive tone, feeling his voice shake.

All he ever did was look up to Michael Jr and aspire to be him, and he continuously failed. He keeps on failing.

“So why the fuck don’t you have it?” Michael Sr scolded, and Micah even felt a few particles of saliva from it. He jumped, trying to get his heart to stop running a million miles per hour. “Pack up in here–you coming home. No rebuttals,” he told him.

Micah just stood there, shaking.

“NOW, MICAH!”

Micah’s body moved on its own, heading towards his room. He started grabbing stuff from his room while his father stared at him, standing in his doorway with his signature frown and crossed arms.

Tears couldn’t even well up in Micah’s eyes. He didn’t feel like crying because his father just affirmed everything he already knew about himself.

That he was worthless.

So, he would just do what his father said, and try his best to be worth something.

He would stop resisting.

Get out of this place.

Stay away from him…

As best as I can. Micah thought.

He’s giving up controlling his life.

Micah was back on autopilot.

•••

homecoming day, late january, 2020

“Alright, team!” Coach Carter yelled. “This is for some of you, your last homecoming, so make it count. There will be lots of important people here tonight, recruiters, sponsors–you all know the drill–make me PROUD!” he started clapping loudly.

The whole team erupted into cheers. “Fuck who?” Coach asked, putting his hand in the middle for everyone to stack theirs on top.

“FUCK K.U!” they chanted, referring to their rival team Kentucky University.

“FUCK WHO?”

“FUCK K.U!” they all cheered and yelled.

“Alright, make me proud, especially, you five,” Coach nodded, looking toward Jeremiah, Micah, Taylor, James, and Chase.

“Yes, sir!” they spoke in unison.

“Aw, shit, Miah! They playin’ yo song!” Taylor told Jeremiah, who was in shock.

“BITCH, ION JUS’ PLAY BALL!” the whole tea, started screaming in unison, except for Micah.

Ever since the day Michael Sr slapped Jeremiah, they haven’t really talked much. Micah just texted him an apology and told him that he would be moving out–not officially thought because he knew Jeremiah would be pissed with a new roommate and rathered to be alone.

Micah nor Jeremiah honestly knew what to say to one another.

They both figured it was the best.

Jeremiah was hurt though, Micah seemed like he really wanted it to be the end of them. The two resemble more like distant acquaintances and not two people who just confessed their love for each other.

But this is the way it had to be.

Right?

Neither of them could provide a definitive yes to the question.

“I MAKE CALLS!” the team continued to shout his lyrics.

Micah did, however, have a small smirk on his face. He couldn’t help but feel so damn proud of him.

That’s why he envied him so much because he genuinely deserves everything amazing that comes to him. He envies him because he wishes that he could be able to feel that happiness and perfection that he thought Jeremiah had.

He was jealous because he wanted to show the world who his number one fan really was…

But again, they decided to leave their hearts in the dressing room that day.

“NOW FOR THE SECOND TEAM, PLAYING AT HOME, GIVE IT UP FOR LOUISVILLE–UNIVERSITYYYYY!” the presenter yelled, and the boys cheered in the locker room. “WELCOME PLAYER 03, TAYLOR JOHNSON!” he yelled, then Taylor ran from the back onto the court, hearing even more cheers.

The presenter continued to name all the players until only Jeremiah and Micah were left in the locker room.

It was usually the two–they were the best.

“Less win es shit, aight?” Jeremiah stuck his hand out, trying to dap Micah up, however, Micah just stared at his hand.

Jeremiah just pulled his hand back, nodding.

“Y-Yeah, fasho,” Micah agreed.

“NEXT UP THE ZERO-ONE: MICAH PAAARRKKKS!”

Micah ran out, blinded by lights as he gave the crowd a big cheer.

He even heard a few boos from the opposing team, and they all started shouting Jeremiah’s song and making fun of him for losing.

He just clenched his jaw. “Don’t even, Micah–you know niggas is tryna get inta yo head,” Chase spoke into his ear.

Micah just nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

“LAST BUT NOT LEAST, THE DOUBLE OH–JEREMIAH KENTWOOD AKA WOODY KEEEENNT!” Jeremiah ran out onto the court.

Of course, the who gym was so loud for him, that he had to cover his ears for a second with a smile, but he was starting to get a bit overstimulated from the combined screams of a couple thousand people.

However, Micah barely heard a thing as he locked eyes with his parents in the crowd.

Over the past couple of weeks, his father has been having him on a strict schedule and he has been training Micah himself every day for hours on end. The only time he had to himself was when he went to sleep, or when he would use seeing Kelia as an excuse to get out of the house.

Michael Sr also gave him a few very important talks about trying to impress recruiters, so he could get drafted.

Micah felt his chest tightening. It was too much pressure.

He felt himself start shaking. He put his hand on his chest, feeling like he could breathe.

He took a few deep breaths, shaking his head, so he could try to refocus, and stop the impending panic attack.

Jeremiah noticed, “Micah, you okay?” he asked.

Micah looked over at him, giving him a nod and a tight-lipped smile. “I’m coo’.” He then looked back at the crowd, becoming frozen when he locked eyes with his father and mother again.

“If you keep letting us down, you might as well not consider yourself a part of this family. Things will be different for you, Micah–your time is nearing. Graduation is coming up,” his mother told him this morning as she stood over the kitchen, fixing breakfast, not even looking at him while she spoke.

Her words haunted him.

Micah grabbed his chest again, shaking his head and taking deep breaths.

Jeremiah couldn’t help but worry, seeing Micah grab his chest, “Are you sure you okay–”

“Stop fuckin’ speakin’ ta me, bruh!” Micah snapped as he continued to look at the ground for a moment, and Jeremiah just clenched his jaw.

He just scoffed and faced forward.

•••

DURING THE GAME

Make it, Micah. Make it! Micah thought to himself as he attempted a layup.

The ball was in their hands, and the team had a successful streak–in the lead by ten points.

“And that’s a rebound–the ball is now in KU’s court!” the basketball commentator spoke when the ball hit the backboard, the rim, then bounced off of it, causing the opposing team to catch it mid-air.

“FUCK!” Micah yelled out. He grabbed his chest again, feeling as if he couldn’t breathe while simultaneously getting into a defensive position.

“Relax, Micah!” he heard Taylor yell at him.

How could he though?

Micah quickly looked over into the crowd, seeing his parents, swallowing hard in almost fear, eyeing the frown on his father’s face that only got deeper.

Whipping his head back towards the match, Micah stumbled a bit, feeling a bit dizzy.

He regained his balance, quickly running down the court, keeping his eye out for the ball as a player on KU’s team made a successful jump shot.

They kept the ball, and Micah felt like his lungs were closing with every step he took.

His breathing got heavier, he felt like the world was slow, but he kept going.

“FOUL!” the referee called out when Micah accidentally bumped into one of the other players.

Micah’s eyes went wide.

Wh-when do I foul? When do I FUCKING FOUL!

Micah started to panic even more.

He grabbed his chest, seeing that the opposing team was rewarded free-throw shots from his foul.

As they all got into position for one of Kentucky University’s players to shoot the ball, Micah looked over again. He looked around the gym, seeing some familiar faces.

He saw Arnold. The recruiter from the gala.

Micah whipped his head back towards the game.

His breathing only got louder and louder until he was breathing so hard that the people on the court from both sides started to notice.

However, he still was standing, so they had to focus on the game.

Micah then started to notice that it was getting… dark.

“W-Why can’t I se-see?” Micah felt dizzy as he spoke, feeling like the lights were dimming.

Then he dropped.

“MICAH!” Jeremiah yelled, rushing towards him, soon following the other team members of LU and even a few KU students.

They were all cool outside of the ‘school beef’.

“WE NEED A MEDIC!” Jordan yelled, and Chase stood up, running to the referee.

“YOU HURD HIM, WE NEED A MEDIC! CALL AN AMBULANCE!” Chase panicked a bit.

The whole gym just got quiet as they waited for the ambulance, some waiting in fear.

When they arrived, they watched Micah get carried away.

Of course, his team wanted to go with him, but we were tasked with winning the homecoming game–now without one of their best players, their friend who they feared that something was really wrong.

•••

later that day

“WE DID ET SHIT FA MICAH!” the team yelled out.

They had just won the game by almost twenty points.

The team was about to head over to the homecoming dance, but first, they wanted to check up on Micah.

They rode to the hospital, heading to the front desk.

“We hur ta see Micah Parks,” Jordan told the woman at the front desk.

She stopped typing, looking up from her computer. “My apologies, sir–we don’t accept visitors that aren’t family of the patient at this time,” she smiled at him.

Jordan just blinked, scoffing. “What?”

“Jay,” Chase pulled him back. “He’s fine, aight,” he reassured him.

Meanwhile, Jeremiah only stood behind them quietly with his fists clenched tightly.

He was angry. He was hurt. He was worried.

Worried over his Micah.

Baby, please be okay. He thought in his head, trying his hardest not to have a meltdown like when he was a child, overstimulated, and didn’t know what was going on.

He just took deep breaths.

“Well… I feel like we should stay hur, n wait fa him,” Jeremiah suggested with a nod.

“Micah wouldn’t want us waitin’ in no damn hospital. We rey turn up in his honor too!” Taylor spoke with a smile. “I know my nigga cool, n we gon’ showa him in love soon as he gets out, but we can’t waste the day sittin’ hur, thinkin’ of what-ifs.”

The team all nodded their heads, although they were all concerned for Micah.

Even James, he almost cried.

“Aight,” Jordan nodded. The boys then somberly exited the hospital, heading back to campus.

They all went to Chase’s on-campus apartment to get dressed.

Their moods all came back slowly, for they all were kind of conceited–some more than others.

“Damn, we look good,” James smirked, looking into the mirror.

“You do,” Jeremiah whispered in his ear, sending a chill up James’ spine as Jeremiah squeezed past him, touching his ass, looking into the mirror too. “AYE, LESS GET A PIC!” Jeremiah yelled out, hearing the other three come into the bathroom with them.

He pulled out his phone to snap a picture before posting it to his Instagram and tagging all of them.

After they were finished, they started heading towards the venue for the dance.

They obviously played Jeremiah’s music, and he even played them some beats, getting their opinions on which one was good enough to rap on.

They arrive shortly after, seeing the dance already packed.

Being that they were popular amongst the school and the city, especially Jeremiah, they were obviously swarmed with people.

“Are you performin’ tanight, Woody?” someone asked him.

He shook his head, “Sorry, beautiful, but I’m jus’ hur enjoyin’ the night,” he smiled down at her.

“You are very fine,” she smiled up at him. “I luh me a dreadhead nigga,” she winked at him.

Jeremiah only smiled, biting down on his lip. He bent down about to say something in her ear when he felt a hand on his shoulder, pulling him up.

He was immediately irritated when he stood up, looking to see it was James.

“Imma steal my teammate real quick, shawty,” James told the girl with a smile.

Jeremiah felt his whole body fill with irritation as he turned around to face him. “Wassup, James?” he asked.

“Uhh–who was et?” he asked.

Jeremiah raised a brow, “Why you askin’?” he asked.

“Cuz,” he shrugged, “was wonderin’ if you was available ta getcho dick sucked–fa the win,” James smiled, looking away.

Jeremiah bit down on his lip, “Es whatchu was wondering?” he asked.

James just nodded.

“I’m free all day fa et, James,” Jeremiah gave him a smile.

James just smiled wide. Imma get him, eventually. He thought. Little by little.

•••

Abruptly, Micah woke up.

He jumped up in the bed, looking around to see that he was in the hospital. He started feeling panic rise in him again.

“What the fuck?” Micah asked himself. He grabbed his head, feeling his memories pour back into it, remembering that he blacked out… in the middle of the homecoming game.

Micah felt himself start to shake again. He got up, ripped the IV out of his arm, went to the bathroom, and threw up.

Once he was finished, he rinsed his mouth out, then he left his hospital room. He exited the hospital without being noticed as a patient.

He looked around, realizing that he didn’t have his phone.

Micah took a deep sigh, going to the gas station that was close.

He asked the person behind the counter to use his phone, calling the first number that popped up in his head. It’s been the same since they were in middle school.

“Hello?” he heard Jeremiah’s voice. “Who the fuck is es?” he asked.

“Jeremiah,” he called out to him.

“Micah?” Jeremiah said surprised. “Are you okay?” he asked with worry in his voice.

“Yeah… can-can you do me just one favor?” Micah asked him.

“Whatchu need? Anythang, baby,” Jeremiah told him.

Micah just sighed at the name, not responding to it, “Can you pick me up from the hospital–Nortons,” he specified.

“Yeah…” Jeremiah sighed a bit somberly. “I’ll call you when I get thur.” He hung up the phone, and Micah gave the cashier his phone back, then went back across the street, sitting on a bench in front of the hospital, in just his basketball uniform.

He was cold, shaking, and his mind was running around the place–he felt like just disappearing.

About fifteen minutes later, Jeremiah pulled up in front of the hospital. He called Micah, seeing him stand up, jog down the steps, and get into the car.

“Thank you,” Micah nodded toward him.

Jeremiah nodded back as he put the car back in drive, heading back to the athletic dorm building. “Nah, take me home, please,” Micah told him, not once looking at him during the drive.

“Okay,” Jeremiah responded back, gripping the wheel tightly.

He glanced over to Micah, who just looked–he didn’t know how to describe it. But it didn’t make him feel good at all.

They headed across town, driving a long silent drive, even without any music.

About forty minutes passed before they arrived at Micah’s house in a beautiful suburb on the East End.

Jeremiah remembered the way to his house, pulling into his street. “Wait, hur’s good,” Micah told him, being a few houses down from his.

“You sho?” Jeremiah asked.

“Yeah,” Micah nodded, about to get out of the car, but Jeremiah grabbed his wrist.

“Micah… please–talk ta me,” Jeremiah told him. “Why you lookin’ like et?” he asked.

Micah just broke away from his grip, getting out of the car, and slamming the door shut.

Jeremiah followed after him. “Micah!” he called out. “Micah!” he caught up to him, wrapping his arms around him from behind, putting him almost in a bear hug. “Please,” he whispered.

Micah just let Jeremiah hold him, fighting the urge to start crying.

Jeremiah turned Micah around to face him, looking into his eyes. He didn’t say anything he just hugged him, then pulled back, leaning in and kissing Micah, who didn’t kiss back, then Micah’s eyes went wide.

He pushed Jeremiah hard off of him, causing him to stumble back and fall to the ground.

Jeremiah’s eyes went wide. “Stop fuckin’ touchin’ me! I’m not a fuckin’ f*g like you, nigga,” Micah seethed, his eyes wide, and his heart racing.

Standing to his feet, Jeremiah walked up to Micah and pushed him back harder, “You been fuckin’ wit me fa a while now, Micah–you must really got smoke,” Jeremiah yelled in his face.

Micah just chuckled with a scoff, “Hit me nigga. Es whatchu wanna do right? Beat me up. Ion give a fuck, Jeremiah. I really don’t,” Micah told him with tears streaming down his face as stood there.

Jeremiah didn’t answer. “HIT ME, NIGGA!” he yelled. “DO IT!” he got in Jermeiah’s face.

“Get the fuck out my face, Micah,” Jeremiah clenched his jaw.

“NO, NOW WHAT?” Micah blinked away his tears, pushing him again, “HIT me,” his voice cracked.

“Micah, stop,” Jeremiah told him after regaining his balance from being pushed.

Micah just came up to him, pushing him even harder, causing Jeremiah to punch him in the face without thinking.

He instantly regretted it, looking at the ground, seeing Micah on it, looking up at him with a bleeding nose, a smile, and wet eyes.

Micah stood to his feet, wiping his nose. “Good,” Micah nodded. “Now, you hate me fareal.” Micah nodded. “Good,” he nodded.

Jeremiah just stood there paralyzed, watching Micah wipe his eyes with his bloodied hand, turning around, and walking back to his house.

•••

to be continued…

•••

Thoughts on the chapter? Predictions?

Favorite part?

•••

junie | 22 | art major | meilie’s friend & roommate

•••

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