Chapter 19

THE NEXT DAY, EARLY MARCH, 2020

“Just because you’re benched, doesn’t mean you don’t play like you ain’t!” Coach Carter yelled out at Micah as they were in the middle of practice. “Keep goin’, Parks!” Coach clapped at him as Micah was making a layup, jumping up and shooting the ball over Jeremiah’s head.

They were in a three-versus-three player game, with Jeremiah, Chase, and another teammate, Liam, on one side, with James, Micah, and Taylor on the other.

They had shown up early to practice, so Coach Carter made they start practice early.

The ball bounced off the rim, and Micah groaned. “Tighten up, Parks!” Coach yelled as Jeremiah grabbed it, throwing it to Liam, who was already heading towards the other team’s goal.

He caught the ball, shooting it into the basket, gaining a congratulatory clap from Jeremiah and Chase.

“Get your shit together, Micah!” Coach yelled, and Micah snapped.

“I am!” He yelled, and Coach stopped in his tracks. “Fuck,” Micah cursed, feeling frustrated.

“Watch your mouth, boy!” Coach yelled at him.

“Watch how you talkin’ ta me! You pickin’ on me!” Micah continued to snap.

“Micah,” Jeremiah went up to him, grabbing his arm. “Wussup?”

Micah yanked himself out of his grasp. “I’m not rey do es. I’m bein’ targeted!” he yelled.

“You need to be targeted! You haven’t been here! Stop whinin’ and do better!” Coach yelled. “I’m pushin’ you to do better!”

“I wasn’t hur cuz I tried ta fuckin’ kill myself!” Micah damn near screamed in frustration.

Everyone on the court just stopped, some of the players walking up to Micah to calm him down—Jeremiah being one of them. “Micah…” Jeremiah said, looking at him as the others surrounded him.

Taylor just stood back, watching the interaction, still in shock at their relationship.

“Come to my office,” Coach told Micah, staring into his eyes. Micah just stood there, huffing and staring back. “Now!” he spoke sternly, and Jeremiah told him to go.

Micah just deeply sighed and started walking behind Coach Carter into his office.

The gym was silent, only the sound of Carter’s door shutting as everyone kept their eyes glued to the door.

“The fuck be wrong with him?” Jeremiah overheard one of his other teammates say low.

“Fuck you jus’ say?” Jeremiah asked, turning towards him.

“Bro,” Kameron spoke. “C’mon, you know he does too much. You of all people should know that!”

“Exactly! I, of all people, would know if he was doin’ too much–you niggas ain’t get a mufuckin’ phone call sayin’ Micah tried to hang himself–you niggas ain’t hafta be inna hospital hurin’ a nigga scream bloody murda because he was mad he was still alive!” Jeremiah told them.

Taylor and Chase walked up to him, standing next to him. “Relax, Jay,” Taylor whispered in his ear.

Jeremiah immediately calmed down, nodding. “My bad. Iss’ jus’… es shit was traumatic, you feel me?” he asked.

The other boys just nodded. “I get it—sorry,” Kameron spoke.

Everyone nodded their heads, and then they all continued practicing. Meanwhile, in Coach’s office, the two were having a conversation more about Micah than his decline in skills.

“You brought me in hur jus’ ta yell at me more, Coach?” Micah asked him as he sat down.

Coach Carter just sighed deeply, sitting down behind his desk. “I want to actually ask is basketball what you want to do, Micah?” he questioned.

Micah was taken aback by his question. He paused for a moment, quickly averting his eyes. “Y-yeah, I do,” he answered.

“Are you sure? You can’t even look me in the eyes and tell me yes–now, let me ask you again because I don’t want to waste my time making sure you go pro, if that is not something you want to do—Micah, what I saw out there wasn’t passion, frustration out of wanting to win, but it was desperation.” He told him as he looked into his eyes. “To me, desperation is often used to describe sports when in reality, what you see is passion. They’re not desperate for the win, but passionate. Desperation is when you’re in the ocean, drowning, and you’re desperate to live. Desperation,” he started to recall the meaning. “A state of despair in which a person may act in rash or extreme behavior.” He crossed his hands, clearing his throat.

He looked away, then back at Micah. “You’re drowning, Micah–maybe you should take a step back from basketball and focus on yourself,” Coach suggested.

“WHAT?!” Micah quickly stood up. “Coach, I am not that bad. Look, I know I was gone for a while, but I can do this!” Micah told him.

Coach Carter sighed. He then slowly stood up, keeping his fingertips pressed against his mahogany desk as he looked Micah in the eyes.

“Micah, I need you to understand that this is not about your ability to play basketball. Micah, you are one of my best players—I have no doubt you could be one of the best.” He paused, coming from around his desk, grabbing Micah’s shoulders, and looking him in his eyes. “What I do have doubts about is you makin’ it to become the best,” he told him, and Micah felt overwhelmed by his words. “What do I keep telling you? Fuck basketball. What is basketball, if you ain’t here to play it? I know your parents put a lot of pressure on you, especially after your brother went pro,” he continued, and Micah just sighed. “They even called me to ask how you’re doing in practice, and to monitor you,” he gave a dry chuckle.

“What the fuck?” Micah scoffed, shaking his head.

“Yeah,” Coach Carter chuckled as he let him go. “What the fuck? Look, Micah, I know for us as black men, sports means everything to us, but if that’s not what you want to do, then don’t go down this path. Micah, you’ve met my kids. My oldest son is a doctor, and my youngest is in Japan studying animation,” he told him with a smile. “It only makes me happy when my baby girl sends me photos of her work that she’s so proud of. I know the relationship is different with you and your parents, but the reason why she can smile that bright is because she’s being who she is, regardless of whoever. That includes me. I’m telling you this because I care about you—be who you wanna be. I wanna see all of my boys succeed in whatever life may has to offer. As long as y’all are happy.” He hugged Micah.

Micah just blinked, feeling Coach embrace him. He felt his eyes water, quickly wiping away the few tears that fell down his now reddened face. “I still wanna play tho,” he spoke in a low voice.

Coach Carter pulled back and sighed, “Stubborn, boy—As long as it’s for you tho,” he said sternly while poking Micah’s shoulder. “Now, get your ass out there!” He playfully pushed Micah towards his door.

“O-okay, Coach,” Micah chuckled, then swung open the door.

“And KENTWOOD, PARKS! I want to see you both working your ass off for this versus. Has he contacted you with a date yet?” Coach asked Jeremiah who was currently taking a water break.

He stood up, drinking from his water bottle as he walked towards the two and Micah could help but to stare at Jeremiah, watching his throat as he drank.

Micah just shook his head and chuckled to himself. “The hell is wrong with you? You bipolar?” Coach Carter asked, making Micah and Jeremiah both crack up.

“Sorry, sir,” Micah told him, and Jeremiah just stared at Micah, thinking how he wanted to swallow his whole body when they got a moment alone.

“Anyway,” Coach Carter shook his head, turning back towards Jeremiah. “You get a date?”

Jeremiah nodded. “March 18th,” he answered.

Coach Carter sighed. “That’s in about a week and some change. You ready?”

“Yeah–” Jeremiah started.

“No,” Micah cut him off, then Jeremiah whipped his head towards him.

“Huh?” Jeremiah was confused. He knew damn well his skills were on par with Michael Parks Jr.

“You ain’t ready,” Micah told him. “You thank jus’ cuz you got skills, you ready, nah, w not aimin’ fa jus’ a win–you rey wash this nigga,” Micah told him, looking into his eyes.

A small smirk just crept onto Jeremiah’s face as he looked at Micah. He almost wanted to snatch him up by his waist and suck on his lips… He’d do that later.

Jeremiah just looked at Coach. Coach just sighed. “Micah watch your mouth, but I agree with him, Jeremiah… That means, I want you two practicing for two more hours either before or after regular practice schedules. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir!” The two said at the same time, then dispersed back to practicing.

Jeremiah went back over to the bench, seeing Taylor approaching him. He felt his heart start racing a bit.

He’s been dreading speaking to him, and he could feel his anxiety start to rise. They had to talk… eventually.

It all started last night.

•••

last night

Micah was squatting over Jeremiah, with his dick halfway inside of him, his hole gripping a hold of it as he started sinking down onto him.

He was looking down into his deep brown eyes, his hands on Jeremiah’s shoulders, Jeremiah looking back up into his bright green ones. Both of them looked at each other in pure lust. “Baby,” Micah moaned, sinking down fully onto him, wrapping his arms around Jeremiah’s shoulders.

Jeremiah just bit his lip, grabbing both of Micah’s ass cheeks, spreading him as he started to slowly thrust his hips upward. “Oooh, Jeremiah,” Micah panted; he was left breathless from feeling Jeremiah’s full dick inside of his convulsing hole.

“Yes, baby mama?” Jeremiah smirked up at him, seeing Micah instantly pull back and frown, but then his eyes rolled to the back of his head, feeling as his lover thrusted up into him again.

“Daddy,” Micah moaned.

Jeremiah let out a small moan, then but down hard on his lip. “Exactly—” Jeremiah gave Micah another thrust.

“Daddy,” Micah moaned in a slightly slurred, higher-pitched voice.

“You know who I am. So whatchu was rey fuss fa?” Jeremiah asked, looking in Micah’s eyes as he gave him long, slow, and deep upward strokes.

“Y-you not playin’ f-fair, babyyy,” Micah let out stuttered moans as his eyes flickered from feeling Jeremiah’s slow and torturous ways at which he slid his dick in and out of him. The two created sounds that only mimicked squelches and sloshing.

Jeremiah let go of his ass with one hand, the other keeping a tight grip.

His free hand roamed his leg, the back to his ass, slapping it hard. “Damn,” Micah huffed, biting down hard on his lip.

“I need you ta trust me, real quick,” Jeremiah told him as he let go of Micah’s ass.

“Whatchu want?” Micah questioned.

“I’m rey lift you up,” Jeremiah told him as he grabbed Micah’s ass from underneath.

Micah started to lose his balance from squatting on his feet, and as he did, Jeremiah only strengthened his arms, keeping Micah from touching his lap.

“Strong ass nigga,” Micah muttered, making Jeremiah giggle as he lifted Micah higher, causing him to bump the top of his head on the ceiling of the car. “Ow, nigga!”

“S-sorry, baby,” Jeremiah chuckled.

“You know damn well Ian no five-foot ass girl,” Micah continued to complain.

Jeremiah just tuned it out. “Uh, huh,” he smirked as he lifted Micah in the air again, giving him a more aggressive thrust.

“You be cheatin’,” Micah moaned as his head fell forward onto the shoulder of the car seat and Jeremiah.

He put his toes back onto the sides of Jeremiah to give him more support as Jeremiah started to quickly move his hips upwards.

Moans started spewing from Micah’s lips. “Oh, fuck, Jeremiah,” he moaned loudly, remembering he was in a car, which only turned him on even more.

“Daddy makin’ mama pussy feel good?” Jeremiah teased him as he continued fucking him at a fast pace.

“I-I fuckin’ hat—oooh, fuck,” Micah’s head fell back, and his legs started to shake.

“You what?” Jeremiah asked, thrusting into him hard.

“Oh, daddy,” Micah moaned as the feeling of his stomach tightening began to grow.

Right as Jeremiah was about to lean Micah on the dashboard and grab his throat, so he could really show him who’s in charge, the passenger side door swung open.

At first, Micah was still stuck for a moment, unable to process what was happening until he heard Jeremiah yell out, “Oh, fuck!”

“What the fuck?” Micah started breathing hard, getting off him as best he could, climbing back into the driver’s seat.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Jeremiah repeatedly cursed, facepalming himself so hard that he almost hit himself.

Micah was currently in the driver’s seat, shaking as he hurried to put on his clothes.

They were both sober now.

“Oh, shit,” Taylor exclaimed as he paced around in a circle, in his dark apartment, parking lot. He had his hands over his mouth, unwantingly recalling seeing Micah and Jeremiah having sex… “What the fuck?” he whispered to himself.

His mind was swirling with thoughts. He wondered if he should just walk back upstairs and forget that he’d ever even come down.

Taylor would just text the two as if they had never made contact.

“Le-let’s jus’ leave,” Micah suggested, pushing the button on the side of the steering wheel to start the car.

“No,” Jeremiah grabbed his arm, shaking his leg. “Iss’ Taylor. We can’t jus’ leave,” Jeremiah told him.

“Yes, the fuck we can–et nigga saw us fuckin’, Jeremiah!” Micah almost started to raise his voice. “You know what et mean? Es ain’t my punk ass ex best friend that was suckin’ yo dick behind the scenes,” Micah spoke.

Jeremiah rolled his eyes, smacking his lips. “You neva rey let me live.”

“I did letchu live, nigga, or I woulda smacked you instead of him,” Micah scoffed.

Jeremiah just rolled his eyes. “We got more important shit ta focus on,” he kept his voice low.

“Exactly, so let’s leave,” Micah told him.

“No, Micah! What the fuck you think rey happen if we leave wit no explanation? You not more scured of et?” Jeremiah told him.

“Nigga,” Micah started, then paused to lower his voice. “If we leave and act like it ain’t happen, we can jus’ trick the nigga, n make him think he was drunk, seein’ shit,” Micah suggested.

Jeremiah paused, staring at him for a moment.

He actually thought about his plan.

He then thought about his relationship with Taylor.

Jeremiah was just as scared, and he also didn’t really want his secret out there, but Taylor was his good friend.

His friend, whom he just confessed having autism too, and he reassured him he wasn’t going anywhere. Taylor had always been there for Jeremiah, and Jeremiah would feel bad just leaving him out to dry.

“No,” Jeremiah repeated. “You don’t have to, but I’m talkin’ ta him. Es still my fren!” Jeremiah told him, and Micah smacked his lips.

“Es my friend too, nigga–fuck you tryna say?” Micah asked.

Jeremiah just rolled his eyes. “I’m not tryna say nun, baby, jus’ stay inna cah, please,” he begged Micah, grabbing his hand while looking into his eyes with pleading eyes.

Micah’s face softened, turning from a frown into a normal expression. He sighed, nodding his head. “Okay,” he said, low.

“Thank you,” Jeremiah kissed his lips quickly, then nervously got out of the car.

His nervousness only increased when he saw Taylor pacing back and forth in the dark parking lot, with only a single street light to brighten it just a bit; it almost looked like a spotlight on the two boys.

Jeremiah was sweating from being anxious and from his previous sexual activity. He cleared his throat, then slowly approached Taylor. “T-Tay,” he called his name unintentionally with a lower volume than usual.

Taylor was too busy in his own head, recalling the events over and over in his head, trying to think if his memories were real, or if he was having unusual gay thoughts.

Both would be shocking.

“Taylor,” Jeremiah got a bit closer, reaching out to him, grabbing his arm.

Taylor jumped a tinge, turning around, and Jeremiah almost gasped, putting his hands in the air, almost as if he saw Taylor as a police officer who was asking him to stand down.

“Jay,” Taylor spoke. “What the fuck was et?” he asked.

Jeremiah was speechless. “Look, I can explain, jus’… not r-right now. Imma luh drunk, sh-shooken up, n ovastimmed,” he stuttered, and Taylor saw how Jeremiah looked as if he was about to have a full-blown anxiety attack. “Tomorrow, swur,” he clasped his hands together.

“Bro…” Taylor put a hand on his shoulder.

“Please, don’t tell nobody, Tay,” Jeremiah begged him. “Please, please–”

“Jeremiah,” Taylor interrupted him. “Am I confused? Yes. Do I want to know? I don’t fuckin’ know at this point,” he chuckled. “But you bein’ gay ain’t rey make me stop bein’ yo friend neitha. You can tell Micah psych-ward ass that too,” he joked, making Jeremiah put his hand over his mouth.

He wanted to laugh, but he had to contain it.

“I appreciate you more than you think, Tay,” Jeremiah nodded.

Taylor nodded too. “I gotchu.”

“Well, I-I think me n Micah should jus’ head back home. Jus’ tell Jordan we end up fallin’ asleep or sum–” Jeremiah suggested.

“I told him, I saw y’all’s location,” Taylor replied, causing Jeremiah to deeply sigh. “I’ll say… Y’all pregammed, Micah got sick as y’all pulled up, you was pissed, n y’all went home.” Taylor spoke, and Jeremiah nodded, holding his hand out to dap Jeremiah up.

“You da bestest, my nigga. I love you, deadass,” Jeremiah told him.

“Whoa,” Taylor put both his hands up, making Jeremiah roll his eyes and laugh. “Wait, I jus’ remember you two niggas was… and I jus’ dapped you up–UGH!” He started violently shaking his hand.

Jeremiah just made a face filled with grimace. “My bad–bye!” He waved at Taylor as he was already running back to the car, quickly hopping inside.

Micah already had the car started, and he didn’t hesitate to pull off as soon as Jeremiah closed the door, making a screeching tire sound as he drove out of the parking lot.

•••

after practice

“You weak as fuck,” Micah teased as he stepped back, going around Jeremiah to throw the ball into the hoop. “C’mon, Kentwooc—I told you, yo defense is slackin’—I should not be able to get the ball inna hoop!” he slightly raised his volume, pointing towards the basketball goal.

Jeremiah just chuckled. “You takin’ shit too fah,” he told Micah, who just shrugged.

“You wanna be a loser, or you wanna win?” Micah asked him, grabbing the ball, dribbling it.

Jeremiah just shook his head, bending back down into a position as the two continued their practice.

“Focus on takin’ the ball from me. Rememba that, Jeremiah!” Micah yelled out as he traveled across the court, with Jeremiah assessing the situation, looking for an opening.

He saw Micah was too focused on Jeremiah’s next play, which allowed him to corner Micah into a tough position to make a shot.

“Okay, Woody Kent,” Micah nodded, dribbling the ball, assessing how he could either attempt to make the shot from his current position or get out of Jeremiah’s trap.

The two continued on for about twenty minutes, continuously working on Jeremiah’s defensive measures.

“You gotta understand, baby—you gotta have yo back faced the basket at all times. You be too focused on gettin’ the ball, when you need ta focus on a nigga fuckin’ up from the tough spot you got him in,” Micah told him, and Jeremiah nodded. “Like et play you did earlier,” Micah added.

“You callin’ me baby threw me off, explain it again,” Jeremiah asked, smirking.

Micah just rolled his eyes. “Niggas rather flirt than win.” He smacked his lips, shaking his head.

Meanwhile, Taylor had just walked in.

To be honest, he was feeling a certain way, especially towards Jeremiah.

He took off his bookbag, setting it down next to him on the bleachers.

The other two caught onto his presence, locking eyes with one another. “Well, go ahead—Mr explain everything,” Micah scoffed, waving him off.

The gym was nearly empty at that time of the day, so that meant the three could have some sense of privacy.

“You need ta talk too, Micah,” Jeremiah said back, grabbing Micah’s wrist, dragging him along to the bleachers.

“Bruh—” Micah huffed as Jeremiah dragged him towards where Taylor was sitting.

Taylor had looked up from his phone, also feeling a little nervous about the conversation.

“Should we go ta my crib…?” Taylor suggested, hesitantly.

“Uhh, if you coo’ with et,” Jeremiah shrugged, looking back at Micah.

Micah just looked between them both.

They both looked at him, waiting for his response.

“Fuck y’all lookin’ at me fa?” he asked.

“Well, whatchu wanna do?” Jeremiah asked.

Micah just sighed, standing up. “I’m not even gon’ answer et because you,” He pointed to Jeremiah. “know damn well what I wanna do, but fuck it,” he shrugged, putting his arms around both Jeremiah and Taylor, leading them out of the gym.

“I need anotha shot—” Jeremiah spoke low to himself.

Taylor overheard and used it as an opportunity to get from underneath Micah and go onto the other side. “Me too–Got some at the cribbo,” he told Jeremiah.

Micah just furrowed his eyebrows, leaning up, putting his mouth close to Jeremiah’s ear. “What, es nigga wanna fuck you too?” he whispered low, pulling back, watching as Jermiah rolled his eyes at Micah’s question.

Micah just scoffed.

Whore ass nigga. Probably why he wants me to talk to this nigga so bad because he fucking him! Micah thought.

He knew the thought was crazy, but he didn’t care at the moment.

The three started to head to the university’s parking garage, towards Taylor and Jeremiah’s car.

“Imma stop at Wendy’s before we head to my crib tho. I’ll just meet y’all thur,” Taylor told them.

“Shid, I’m ridin’ wit Tay,” Micah chuckled, jogging over to him.

Jeremiah rolled his eyes again, shrugging. “Whateva,” he spoke as he got into his car, watching as Taylor and Micah walked off in the chilly, concrete structure.

Taylor and Micah silently got into Taylor’s Chrysler, pulling off with Jeremiah behind them.

At first, Taylor wanted to drown out the silence with music. He put on his rap playlist, and of course, Woody Kent was the first to play.

They approached a red light, and Taylor glanced to his right, seeing Micah scrolling through his phone, humming the lyrics to Jeremiah’s song. “Bitch, Ion jus’ play ball—I make calls. Leave a nigga dead inna ditch, he took a great fall.”

Meanwhile, Micah was thinking of how Jeremiah told him he was going to freestyle while they’re having sex one time, “Bitch Ion jus’ play ball—I stretch Micah walls. Fuck that nigga soul out his body, make-that-ass turn ta Niagra falls.”

“That shit too wordy—You suck,” Micah spat back at him.

He just shook his head at the memory, a small smirk on his face, which Taylor noticed as Jeremiah’s music played.

They really fucking with each other… Taylor thought as he headed on the path to get his Baconator.

As the two rode down the busy and traffic-filled streets, Micah could barely focus on his phone anymore.

His mind was swirling with plenty of thoughts, like Fuck, do this nigga needa explanation for? I keep wondering that shit, bruh. It’s pissing me off.

Micah was also becoming the type who shared his thoughts aloud, regardless of how he’s being perceived.

“Fuck you needa explanation fa, Tay? You need us ta explain more than whatchu saw?” Micah asked, breaking their silence.

Taylor was caught off guard. He raised a brow, glancing over to Micah. “Ion need y’all ta explain shit!” he scoffed. “I promise, I don’t, but es what my nigga sed he wanna do, so,” he shrugged. “Imma let him.

Micah noted how Taylor called him his nigga.

“So, we ain’t frens no more?” Micah asked.

Taylor almost broke his neck to look over at Micah. “What are you talkin’ about, bruh?” he asked, then focused back on the road.

“I’m jus’ sayin’, I been peeped how you fuck wit Jeremiah more than me,” Micah replied with a shrug.

“Nigga, me and Jay always been closer, which is why I’m so… thrown by alles cuz what?” Taylor scoffed. “Especially, you cuz… y’all niggas jus’ got coo’… like I’m lost as shit,” Taylor explained.

However, Micah stopped listening well after Taylor said, “Especially, you.”

In Micah’s sensitive state, his mind sometimes hyper-focused on the negatives—or assumed negatives about himself, so his mind grabbed onto the negatives, which caused him to sometimes react in ways that he shouldn’t.

“You n Jeremiah fuckin’?” Micah asked.

Taylor felt like he would almost crash the car. “Huh?!!” He exclaimed, then chuckled. “You deadass can’t be serious.” He shook his head as they started approaching the Wendy’s drive-through. Taylor then let out a low groan, seeing the long line from the inside and outside of the building.

He just sighed, knowing everything around them was probably just as packed. Taylor couldn’t wait to be out of the car.

“If you can huh, you can hear, nigga,” Micah spat back, crossing his arms.

Taylor just shook his head. “Now, niggas talkin’ like grannies and shit,” he scoffed. “NO, I’m not fuckin’ Jeremiah, nigga–fuck is you on?” he almost raised his voice.

“So why you sayin’ shit like “es yo nigga” and “I’m so thrown by alles, especially him bein’ witchu,” Es whatchu said right?” Micah asked.

Taylor rolled his eyes, “I see how you came ta et conclusion, but I promise you, et ain’t the case at fuckin’ all.” He rapidly shook his head.

Micah sighed, staying silent for a moment. “So, whatchu mean by et?” he asked.

“Well, I when I said my nigga–that’s jus’ what I call my friends–Micah,” he interrupted himself, whipping his head towards Micah. “Why you actin’ like a broad, right now?” he asked, raising a brow.

“Fuck you jus’ say ta me?” Micah asked.

“Do you not hur yoself? You sound like when Kelia would hitcho phone, durin’ practice, askin’ if you was wit bitches!” Taylor told him in an excited tone.

Micah stared at him for a moment. He was about to open his mouth, but he closed it after processing what Taylor had said. “I really was soundin’ like a girl?” he asked.

Taylor quickly nodded his head. “I thought I was gettin’ prosecuted by the homie girlfriend, not the homie,” he emphasized.

Micah just crossed his arms, furrowing his brows. “…Well, es embarrassin’–a hit ta my ego,” he smacked his lips, making Taylor chuckle a little as they moved up a bit in the driveway.

He really was embarrassed, and now, he was thinking of all the embarrassing thoughts and actions he had.

“Nigga, all I was sayin’ is, I’m shocked because of y’all’s history–Since when have you niggas fucked with each otha like that, just onna friendship basis. Now, I started seein’ how close y’all was gettin’ this yur, which didn’t shock me because I always felt like y’all would be good friends, and I always felt like yo mufuckin’ ego is what stopped alotta shit,” he told Micah. “N if you know Jeremiah, you know he prolly one of the realest niggas you know–”

“I know,” Micah spoke. “Ta be honest, I don’t know how Jeremiah even can stand my ass, n yet, he act like he worship the damn ground I walk on,” Micah smiled.

Taylor raised a brow. He was confused because, although he saw a change for the better in their friendship, it seemed like they did well with hiding the true aspects of their relationship, until now…Or at least, no one paid close enough attention because, for some, you could tell with just the way the two made eye contact.

“You n et nigga fought,” Taylor scoffed.

Micah made the yikes face. “Yeah, n the nigga stole the fuck outta me afta that too. Damn, we toxic,” Micah said while laughing, which caused Taylor to laugh too.

“Over the four yurs I’ve known you niggas, I think I’d be rich on how many playful ass arguments that almost turned inta fights, I had to break up between you niggas.” Taylor continued.

“Yeah…” Micha shook his head.

“And you have a fiancé… I guess ex now… who’s pregnant. Again, how the fuck did this come to be?” Taylor asked.

He was caught off guard when Taylor mentioned Kelia.

Micah had received a text from her earlier, asking him to go to the hospital with her. She was currently into it with her parents, and she told him she felt like she had no one at the moment.

“Yeah… shit is crazy,” Micah added on, shaking his head, to rid himself of the thoughts of her at the moment, so he could return back to the conversation with him and Taylor.

“I jus’… I feel a way because I thought me n Miah was really brothas, n I thought he could trust me, n I thought he knew that outta all niggas, I wouldn’t judge you fa sum like es. Nigga, iss 2020!” Taylor spoke as he drove up a bit more, almost approaching the first window to order. “Like, this shit been goin’ on yurs?”

“No,” Micah quickly answered. “Jus’ recently… Ion really know how it happened, either Taylor. I didn’t even know I liked niggas… I jus’ knew… not even knew, I felt like I loved that nigga, and I feel it now. I love him like crazy, like… shit, I neva felt in my life. Not wit no girl, not nobody.” He felt himself getting a bit emotional at the end. Micah shook his head so he wouldn’t tear up.

Taylor was just in shock at Micah’s words. “You love him?” he asked.

Micah nodded. “Yeah… I jus’ rememba… afta we started livin’ together, the energy between us shifted. I saw the real him, and he saw the real me, n I guess,” he shrugged, “both of us loved the real versions of each other.” He told him.

“Damn,” was the only thing Taylor could say.

“Man… never would I think I would be innes position either, but,” Micah shrugged. “N that nigga fuck so good—” Micah started.

“Micah, don’t fuckin’ start wit me,” Taylor cut him off.

“I’m jus’ sayin’,” Micah laughed, holding both hands up in defense. “Niggas wanted explanations, n I’m explainin’ how amazin’ yo bes’ friend dick game is,” he laughed, seeing Taylor scrunch his face up.

“The fuck is wrong witchu, bro?” Taylor scoffed, and Micah just laughed at him as the two finally pulled up to place their orders.

•••

taylor’s apartment

Jeremiah has been waiting on Micah and Taylor for about twenty minutes in the parking lot of Taylor’s apartment.

He currently had his seat all the way back, his headphones on, with the volume maxed, making songs in his head as he stared at the roof of his car.

His mind was all over the place. They ranged from ‘how and the fuck am I going to explain you seeing Micah riding my dick?’ to ‘where am I going to get two hundred thousand to pay this psychopath off? Maybe he’ll leave me alone then…’

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard his music stop playing, and his phone started blasting his ringtone.

Looking over at his window, he saw Micah’s torso, then his hand, knocking on the window, without actually hearing it.

Jeremiah hangs up the call, then opens the door, seeing Micah with a big Wendy’s bag, and a balanced facial expression. “Y’all took long enough,” Jeremiah said as he turned off his car, getting out of it.

Taylor had already gone up while Micah was getting Jeremiah.

“I know you seen allet traffic,” Micah responded.

“It wasn’t awkward?” Jeremiah asked him.

Micah shook his hand. “Sorta, kinda, but we talked.”

Jeremiah raised a brow, “Y’all did?” he asked, and Micah nodded. “I thought you ain’t wanna talk, Micah?”

“I didn’t, but shit, it happened, and now, you ain’t gotta do allet nervous ramblin’. I know my baby don’t like talkin’ much,” Micah added on, so he could slide past the conversation, and not explain how he kind of snapped on Taylor, and thought he and Jeremiah were having sex.

Jeremiah couldn’t help but smile. He looked around them, making sure the coast was clear, before he grabbed Micah’s chin, kissing him. “I love yo ass,” he told Micah, who just felt his face heat up.

“I love you too, Jeremiah,” Micah told him, looking into his eyes before the two headed up the stairs and into Taylor’s apartment.

Once they walked inside, they saw Taylor wasn’t in sight, meaning he was in his room. “I gotchu some food. I know you gonna be hungry,” Micah told him as he started digging through the bag, pulling out the items he got for Jeremiah.

“Thank you, baby,” Jeremiah told him, making Micah smile while he grabbed one of Taylor’s paper plates, so he could arrange Jeremiah’s two burgers, fries, and spicy chicken nuggets.

“I made sure I gotta lot, so big daddy can stay big,” Micah chuckled, handing him his plate, then grabbing the bag with the rest of his food, sitting down next to him.

Jeremiah only smiled widely, grabbing Micah’s chin again, slipping his tongue inside of his mouth. They kissed for a moment before Micah pulled back, “So, youn give a fuck we in es nigga crib?” he asked low, close to Jeremiah’s lips.

Jeremiah just shook his head, putting his arm around Micah, then grabbing his neck and chin from the back, and turning Micah’s head towards himself before slipping his tongue back inside of his mouth.

He sucked on his bottom lip, “Et nigga saw my dick go in you–iss free game at this point.” He chuckled, making Micah laugh a bit too, before the two reconnected their lips.

Taylor soon came out, sighing. “So, niggas jus’ don’t give a fuck no more?” he scoffed, and Jeremiah let go of Micah, pulling back from his lips, laughing at Taylor’s distress.

Taylor then grabbed his food, coming to the couch to sit with them, except he forced the two apart, plopping down in the middle of both of them.

He then turned towards Jeremiah. “So, you was neva gon’ tell me?” he asked him.

Jeremiah looked around, almost like he was searching in the air for an answer. “Ion know,” he spoke truthfully. “It wasn’t easy–still ain’t easy ta… jus’be talkin’ about, Tay,” he told him.

Taylor sighed. “I thought we was close–”

“We are, Taylor. Stop sayin’ et! You gotta understand, if you understand what I have, and know, shit takes me time ta process, handle, and figure out… jus’ fa myself. It wasn’t cuz Ion trust you, nor cuz ion fuck witchu, Taylor… I meant what I sed when I told you, I was gon’ be more open, but you gotta allow fa et,” Jeremiah explained.

“I undastand.” Taylor nodded, holding his hand out to dap Jeremiah up.

Jeremiah just smiled, dapping him back.

“You know Micah thought we was fuckin’?” Taylor chuckled, and Micah bumped Taylor.

“Fuck you say et fa?” Micah scoffed, and Jeremiah just shook his head. “Baby, don’t look like et. I do trust you, but if one friend wantchu, then I can’t put it past nobody.”

“What?” Taylor blinked. “Who?”

“Micah…” Jeremiah sighed, facepalming himself.

Micah just shrugged. “Don’t worry ’bout it, Tay-jus’ know I wasn’t fully actin’ like a broad fa no reason,” he told him, nodding.

“Micah, shut yo damn mouth,” Jeremiah told him.

“Nigga, who you think you talkin’ to?” Micah smacked his lips, standing up.

“You, nigga.” Jeremiah stood up too.

“See… this why I’m not understandin’ how y’all a thing…” Taylor said to himself.”Y’all ain’t got along since I’ve known you niggas.” He also stood up. “Let me move out the way fa I be apart of the domestic violence.” He chuckled, moving towards the kitchen.

“I can say what the fuck I want to. You tryna defend et nigga?” Micah asked.

“Don’t start et shit wimme,” Jeremiah told him, sternly. “I’m deadass.”

Micah just smacked his lips, “Whateva, nigga.” He sat back down.

Jeremiah did too. “Give me a kiss.”

“Fuck you,” Micah spat.

Jeremiah just rolled his eyes, grabbing Micah’s chin, so he could kiss and suck on his lips again.

Micah eventually smiled on his lips. “You gon’ pay fa es attitude, later,” he said low on them.

“Can y’all stop doin’ gay shit at my crib?” Taylor asked, and Jeremiah flicked him off, kissing Micah one more time.

“Now, you getcho ass back ova hur!” Jeremiah told Taylor, and Taylor shook his head.

Jeremiah looked at Micah, who just looked back at him. The two then nodded then looked at Taylor, standing up at the same time.

Taylor furrowed his brows. “The fuck?” he asked.

The other two just smiled menacingly before they ran after him, both picking him up, with Taylor struggling between the two as they dragged him to the couch.

Jeremiah had his arms and Micah had his legs; they sat down, letting his body lie across the couch and on their laps.

“Es betta,” Jeremiah sighed in relief, while Taylor just gave up and lay on the both of them. “Now, let’s talk about how I’m rey beat this nigga MJ.”

“Work on yo defense,” Taylor answered.

“Es what I said!” Micah almost yelled. “Es cocky ass nigga think I can’t teach him nun,” Micah folded his arms.

“You know, you’re very bratty. I just noticed that,” Taylor looked up at Micah.

“What?!” Micah scoffed. “How the hell es get on me?” he asked, looking at Jeremiah, who was trying to contain his laugh.

That’s where the remainder of their conversation remained, lighthearted.

•••

the next day

Micah had just gotten out of class. He was on his way back to his dorm.

His phone had been blowing up the past couple of days, due to the fight being posted on social media, and apparently, the dean wanted to meet with him tomorrow, his parents, Coach Carter, and his parents’ long-time manager, whom he’s had a difficult relationship with as well.

He acted almost like a third parent in a way. They had a lot of good moments and many bad ones. Usually, when he acted in favor of his parents.

Micah just sighed, unlocking his door. He turned off his phone, throwing it down.

He then turned it back on, so he could call Jeremiah to brighten his mood. “Wussup, baby?” he answered.

He also felt shockingly good since their conversation with Taylor. Being accepted by someone so close made them feel good as a couple, and even more comfortable being with each other, period.

“You still in class, baby daddy?” Micah asked.

Jeremiah chuckled at the nickname. “Nah, I’m gettin’ sum ta eat, then headin’ back ta change clothes. Hangin’ wit Drey n Mar today.”

“So, iss fuck me, huh?” Micah asked, scoffing.

“Baby,” Jeremiah could only chuckle. “You dramatic as fuck you know et?”

Micah just laughed, “So iss fuck me?” Micah asked again.

He knew the question would rile Jeremiah up, and if anything could make Micah feel better, it was having sex with Jeremiah.

“I mean… I got sum time fa I leave,” Jeremiah told him, making Micah bite down on his lip.

“You gon’ lemme feel them lips, baby?” Micah asked.

“Of course, what else you tryna feel?” Jeremiah asked.

“I’m askin’ you,” Micah told him.

“That fat, gorilla grippin’ ass puss–” Micah hung up on him.

“Bitch ass nigga,” Micah scoffed, although his dick was hard.

A few minutes later, Jeremiah burst through the door.

He looked around, not seeing Micah. He walked towards his door, attempting to open it, raising a brow when the knob wouldn’t turn. “You lockin’ a nigga out? First, you hangin’ up on me—you tryna hide?”

The door then slowly opened, and Jeremiah’s eyes almost bulged from his socket, making heart-eyes once he saw Micah lying across his bed, back slightly arched, with a red lace thong on. “Don’t be mad at me, daddy,” Micah said in a low, seductive tone as he looked back at him, revealing that he was slowly stroking the head of his dick.

“Wussup witchu?” Jeremiah asked as he pulled Micah to the edge of the bed by his waist, aligning his print up with Micah’s hole that was sheathed by the red lace.

“I just… wanted ta please you, daddy,” Micah told him, biting down on his lip as he felt Jeremiah start to smack and grab his ass, pressing his print further against his hole.

“I’m already pleased by you,” Jeremiah said as he grabbed both of Micah’s wrists, pinning them against his back, dry humping him, and watching the way his ass jiggled against his pelvis.

“Ba-by,” Micah breathed. “Stop it.”

“Why?” Jeremiah asked.

“Cuz… I’m tryna please you, daddy—lemme do it.” Micah told him.

Jeremiah’s dick only throbbed at hearing Micah beg to pleasure him. “Okay, baby,” he replied, letting his arms go, smacking his ass one more time. “Alles mufuckin’ ass, it don’t make sense.”

Micah’s eyes flicker, but he refocused, turning over and pulling Jeremiah down to the bed. He pushed Jeremiah onto his back before straddling him.

Little did Jeremiah know, Micah had plans for him.

Jeremiah’s hands immediately went to Micah’s ass as Micah leaned down to kiss him while reaching into his briefs to grab his dick.

He started stroking him as they wrestled tongues, sucking on each other’s lips like they were commodities, kissing like they were feening for each other.

Grinding down on Jeremiah’s dick, Micah felt the lace move and Jeremiah’s shaft slide against his hole.

Mm, I just got to ride it for one second. He thought, putting a slight derailment in his plan.

Jeremiah had moved Micah’s thong to the side. “You gon’ dance on it fa me real quick?” he asked, slapping his ass, then putting his hands behind his head.

Micah nodded. “Mmhmm,” he hummed, grabbing Jeremiah’s dick, squatting above it, slowly sliding down, feeling as Jeremiah’s dick started to penetrate his tight, throbbing hole.

“Ahh,” Micah moaned.

“We been fuckin’ so much et shit jus’ fit inner so perfect,” Jeremiah held onto Micah’s hips while Micah kept his hands on Jeremiah’s shoulder to keep himself steady while he raised and lowered his hips at a slow pace.

“Fuck,” Micah’s eyes rolled to the back of his head once he felt Jeremiah’s dick immediately rub against his spot. “Mmm,” he hummed, looking down into Jeremiah’s eyes, bouncing his hips up and down.

Jeremiah ripped the thong, feeling his own eyes roll from the sensation of Micah’s hole squeezing his dick. He just closed his eyes, letting out a few deep moans before grabbing the bottom of Micah’s ass. “Tight ass pussy,” Jeremiah whispered on his lips as they started kissing again.

Micah just moaned in his mouth, but he never stopped bouncing his hips up and down. “Big ass dick stretchin’ me out,” he huffed, and his legs shook a bit. “Fuck, Miah,” he moaned.

“Fuck, Micah,” Jeremiah moaned in response.

Micah pulled off of him fully before he came. He then got in between Jeremiah’s legs, licking down his stomach before he reached his dick.

Jeremiah just looked at him with furrowed brows. “You nasty, baby,” he told him, biting down on his bottom lip.

Micah just nodded. “You ain’t realize from the first time we fucked, Imma luh… slutty,” he chuckled, licking up and down Jeremiah’s dick, tasting himself in the process.

He only looked Jeremiah in the eyes while he started sucking his dick. “Ooh,” Jeremiah groaned, peering back down into Micah’s eyes, his mouth never closing from spewing out moans, entranced by the sight of Micah engulfing his length, and doing it well. “My baby so good at this,” he praised him in a drawn-out moan.

Jeremiah threw his head back, enjoying the feeling of Micah’s wet mouth.

Micah continued bobbing his head up and down, gagging a bitch each time he felt Jeremiah hit the back of his throat.

“Fuck, baby,” Jeremiah let out a loud groan, invoking Micah to moan around him.

He pulled off his length completely, pushing his legs up. “Yo ass clean?”

Jeremiah chuckled. “Yeah, remember you made me do et bullshit witchu because you sed I needa know the pain you go through ta give me ass,” Jeremiah recalled.

“Ian lie,” Micah smirked before sticking his tongue out and swiping it over Jeremiah’s hole.

“Shit,” Jeremiah groaned, then a louder sound escaped him when Micah started licking back and forth from his hole to his balls. “B-baby,” Jeremiah grabbed his head.

Micah smacked his hand away. “Let go of me, nigga.” He then went back down on him, shoving as much of Jeremiah’s dick into his mouth as he could before pulling off again.

He licked down Jeremiah’s entire length back to his hole. “Micah,” he breathed, feeling his legs shake a bit. “You wylin’,” Jeremiah breathed, then released a stuttered breath when Micah started to rim him, licking and sucking on his hole. “Whoa.” He sat up and grabbed Micah’s face. “Baby.”

“Yeah, big daddy?” Micah asked with wet lips and an innocent expression.

Jeremiah just bit down on his lips, smirking. “Why you bein’ so… more you?” he asked.

“I’m just tryna please you,” Micah smirked.

Jeremiah raised a brow. “You up ta sum,” he chuckled, feeling Micah remove his hands from his head, then push him back down to the bed.

“Just shut yo mouf up, nigga,” Micah told him before going back down on his dick, then sucking on his balls, back down to his hole, which he started sucking on again, eventually trying to prod his tongue inside.

“Micah,” Jeremiah moaned, and his legs shook from the pleasure he was receiving. An even bigger moan slipped out when just the tip of Micah’s tongue found its way inside of Jeremiah’s hole.

Jeremiah had more questions, but Micah didn’t pay him any mind as he started to gently shove his tongue in and out, reaching up to grab and stroke his dick simultaneously.

“Fuck, baby,” Jeremiah tossed his head back again.

It’s not like he never had his ass eaten, but something was different about this time.

Maybe because Micah was a man, and so his natural aggressive instincts take over when he is down there—that’s what Jeremiah thought until he felt Micah start rubbing over his hole with his middle finger.

Jeremiah instantly rose. “Baby?” he looked down at him in a confused voice.

Micah just looked up at him in the eyes, biting down on his lip. “You trust me?” he asked. “To take cur of yo body, like you always do mine? Huh, daddy?”

Jeremiah felt his dick start throbbing from Micah’s words. “Whatchu tryna do?” Jeremiah asked, watching as Micah started hovering over him, until he was looking down on Jeremiah.

“You know what I’m tryna do,” Micah told him as he reached out to grab Jeremiah’s chin, forcing him onto his back again and into a sloppy kiss, sucking on his bottom lip as his other hand never stopped moving up and down Jeremiah’s dick. “You gon’ let me, daddy?” Micah asked in his ear, sucking on his earlobe, letting go of his dick to move his hand down his balls, then to his hole.

He sucked on Jeremiah’s neck as he took his two middle fingers and rubbed circles on Jeremiah’s entrance. “We ain’t got time,” Jeremiah breathed, entranced at how Micah was subtly taking control over him.

“Tell them nigga you will be thur later, sum important came up,” Micah chuckled, making Jeremiah smirk.

“Okay—” Jeremiah was cut off with a more aggressive kiss.

Micah fiddled around the bed with his free hand, since his eyes were closed, grabbing the small bottle of lube. He coated the tips of his fingers, then rubbed Jeremiah’s hole, pushing one inside, just the tip of his finger.

Micah knew that he needed to do something else, so Jeremiah wouldn’t focus on being fingered. Instead, he removed himself from their kiss, letting his spit fall from his lips and back onto Jeremiah’s dick.

He started bobbing his head up and down while attempting to finger him.

“Oh, shit,” Jeremiah groaned, putting his hand on top of Micah’s head.

Micah pushed his legs upward, which threw Jeremiah off a bit, seeing himself in that position, but he had no time to focus on it as he felt Micah’s throat constricting around the head of his dick, paired with Micah wiggling his finger inside of him; the multiple sensations just made Jeremiah putty in Micah’s hand for a moment.

“Damn, baby—you pleasin’ me so good,” Jeremiah moaned, then released a stuttered breath. “Damn, Micah,” he moaned loudly, feeling his legs shake a bit when Micah hit a certain area inside of him.

Micah popped his head up, smiling widely up at Jeremiah with a wet mouth. “Yo kno’ es a nigga G spot,” he told him, rubbing the tip of his finger over it again and again.

“Ahh—woah,” Jeremiah moaned, then grabbed his wrist from the pleasure.

“You a runna, daddy?” Micah asked in an innocent voice. “You pussy?”

Of course, Micah’s last particular question riled Jeremiah up.

“Stop playin’ wimme,” Jeremiah scoffed.

“So, fuck you still grabbin’ my hand fa, Jeremiah?” Micah asked.

“Who?” Jeremiah asked.

Micah giggled. “Daddy.” He only said it to be on Jeremiah’s good side and get some ass

“Aight,” Jeremiah leaned down to kiss his lip. “Do do too much,” he smacked his lips as he leaned back down.

“Whateva, nigga,” Micah rolled his eyes, grabbing Jeremiah’s dick, putting it back inside of his mouth.

He fiddled around the bed with his other hand, popping off the cap of the lube bottle, covering his middle two fingers, rubbing some onto Jeremiah’s hole, then repeating that a few times until both middle fingers made it fully inside of him.

“Fuck,” Jeremiah took a deep breath. He wasn’t able to focus on the slight discomfort, for the feeling of Micah’s mouth, and the way he’s such a fast learner, Jeremiah thought, has his body captured, and eventually he soon felt the pleasure of Micah’s fingers twisting in and out of him too, leaving Jeremiah a moaning and groaning mess.

Micah pulled off Jeremiah’s dick with a pop, his own throbbing at the sight of Jeremiah squirming around the bed and moaning in ways Micah had never heard him moan before. “You feel good, daddy?” Micah breathed, kissing Jeremiah’s thighs as he fingered him.

“Yeah, baby—fuck, baby!” Jeremiah moaned loudly when Micah rubbed against his spot again. His legs started to shake, and he grabbed his dick.

Micah smacked his hand away from his dick, “Why you tryna hold it, lemme taste that nut, big daddy,” he told him, putting his dick back in his mouth.

Jeremiah was so overwhelmed with pleasure, he could only chuckle, “Y-you gon’ get it frum me, baby,” he breathed, thrusting up into Micah’s mouth. His dick felt as if it would explode as it throbbed inside Micah’s mouth, and Micah just continued to slurp up and down his dick, using his hand to stroke him at the same time.

“F-f-fuck,” Jeremiah released a stuttered moan as he came inside Micah’s mouth.

Micah’s eyes flickered a bit as he swallowed almost every last drop of cum Jeremiah gave him, pulling off and spreading Jeremiah’s ass, letting his saliva mixed with Jeremiah’s cum drip down onto his hole.

Jeremiah just looked down at him in awe. “You a luh slut, ain’tchu?” he bit down on his lip, watching as Micah pulled back and straightened up, hovering over him.

Micah pushed one of Jeremiah’s legs back. “Fa you, I definitely am.” He shrugged, grabbing his dick and aligning it with Jeremiah’s hole.

Jeremiah suddenly felt nervous as he unintentionally scooted back with his hands. “Whur you goin’?” Micah asked.

“I’m nervous,” Jeremiah admitted, feeling his heartbeat increasing.

“Don’t be, daddy—Imma take cur of you,” Micah told him, and Jeremiah smirked.

“Ion wanna be on my back tho.”

“So, get on yo side, papa—c’mon, stop stallin’—” Micah pleaded.

“Fine, do me right, Micah—I’m skeptical of yo dick game,” Jeremiah chuckled.

“You got me fucked up,” Micah smacked his lips. “And Imma do you right, n if you just don’t like it, imma stop n hop back on yours.”

Jeremiah smiled even bigger. “Essa bet,” he held his hand out.

Micah smiled back, dapping Jeremiah up.

The two then got into position with Jeremiah on his side, Micah crawling behind him.

Micah guided Jeremiah on how to lie.

He was facing the wall with his back flush against Micah’s chest.

His legs were slightly bent. Micah put his leg in between Jeremiah’s, so he could give Jeremiah’s balls some friction while keeping his ass slightly spread.

One of Micah’s hands reached down to grab a hold of Jeremiah’s dick, while the other guided his own dick to Jeremiah’s hole.

He kissed on the back of Jeremiah’s neck. “You know what ta do, baby—you be tellin’ me,” Micah kissed his brown skin again, admiring it with his lips.

“Deep breath,” Jeremiah repeated himself.

“Yeah,” Micah breathed, and Jeremiah took a deep breath, then breathed out, and Micah slightly thrusted his hips forward. “Unclench, baby,” Micah giggled a bit, making Jeremiah laugh too.

“My bad,” Jeremiah laughed, and then breathed in again, but let it out. “Wait, I wanna face you,” Jeremiah told him, and Micah raised a brow, but nodded.

“Okay,” Micah replied, and Jeremiah turned his body around. “Better?” he asked with a smile.

“I always wanna see your pretty face,” Jeremiah told him, and Micah smiled even wider, blushing as he grabbed both of Jeremiah’s legs, wrapping them around his waist, leaning in to kiss him.

The two started tongue kissing as Micah grabbed his length once more, aligning himself.

Jeremiah instinctively took a deep breath, and as he let it out, he almost felt as if his breath was sucked from his body when the tip of Micah’s dick went inside. “Breathe, Jeremiah. I promise I gotchu.” Micah told him.

Taking another deep breath in, then out, Jeremiah relaxed himself, feeling Micah force him into another kiss, then grab his dick, stroking it.

He pushed his hips forward, and his eyes rolled back, feeling how tight Jeremiah was. “Shit,” he groaned on Jeremiah’s lips, biting down on the bottom one, thrusting forward a bit more.

“Micah—” Jeremiah placed his hand on Micah’s stomach.

“Sorry, baby,” Micah pulled out a bit. “A nigga ain’t used es mufucka in so long,” he chuckled, and Jeremiah smirked, kissing Micah again.

Micah just slowly pulled the third of his dick out, then even more slowly thrusted just the tip back inside, kissing Jeremiah’s lips and stroking his dick at the same time.

Jeremiah just kept his eyebrows furrowed, and he bit down on Micah’s lip from the slight pain of his hole being stretched open.

He then pulled off his lips to bite his own, muffling the small pants that escaped his lips.

Micah continued slowly thrusting just about a third, paying attention to Jeremiah’s expressions, not able to tell at first, with the way he didn’t moan.

“You feel okay, daddy?” Micah asked him, stopping his movements.

Jeremiah looked into his eyes, “Mhm, baby—getcho nut,” he breathed.

Micah smiled. “I gotta give you anotha one first,” he told him, holding Jeremiah’s hips, thrusting into him again, watching his eyes roll and his mouth drop open.

“Micah,” Jeremiah breathed, and the pleasure started growing inside of him.

The more he felt his hole stretch and form to fit Micah’s dick, the more moans came from his mouth.

“Ahh, baby, Ion know-” Jeremiah shook his head. “Fuck,” he moaned again.

Micah just smirked. “You pussy?” he whispered in his neck as he began to suck on it, reaching down to grab Jeremiah’s ass.

“You go-got one,” Jeremiah spat back in between pants.

“Nigga can’t talk with that dick in him, huh, daddy?” Micah teased, thrusting in him a bit further.

Jeremiah just mushed his face. “Shut up or pull out,” he breathed, moaning afterwards when Micah thrust about half of his dick into him, reaching his spot again. “Baby—” he placed his hand on Micah’s hips again, attempting to push him.

“Take it fa me, daddy,” Micah told him, reconnecting their lips as he pushed Jeremiah onto his back, starting to thrust back into Jeremiah’s tight, throbbing hole.

“Oh, shit,” Jeremiah moaned in Micha’s mouth when their lips would briefly disconnect.

“I love you, daddy,” Micah moaned in his ear, biting down on it as he felt Jeremiah clench around him.

“I-I love you too, baby,” Jeremiah breathed, then moaned again when Micah gave him quicker penetration. “Hmm,” he hummed repeatedly. “Fuck,” he moaned, closing his eyes, reaching down to stroke his dick.

Micah had his fists sinking into the mattress, so he could keep his balance and a steady stroke, making sure not to go too deep.

He struggled just a bit, for he never did anal before, and he understood why Jeremiah could never stay out of him.

“Micah,” Jeremiah breathed, furrowing his brows. His legs started shaking and he felt his toes curling.

“Yes, daddy?” Micah asked him, then let out his own moan. “You feel so good, Miah—shit.”

“I’m rey cum,” Jeremiah said in a breath. He was in a daze at the sensation of Micah sliding in and out of his hole.

The better he felt, the more relaxed he felt, and Micah was almost able to get in his full length before Jeremiah pushed his hips.

“Cum on my dick, baby—” Micah breathed. “Imma give you a nut too,” he told him, making sure to keep the same angle of his strokes, noticing the way Jeremiah moaned.

“Oh, oh—oh, fuck.” Jeremiah came into his hand, and Micah couldn’t help but cum afterwards, seeing Jeremiah.

They both stayed in that position for a second. Jeremiah wiped his face with his hands, rethinking life decisions, and Micah really was shocked that Jeremiah actually let him fuck.

“How was it?” Micah asked.

“Shh—” Jeremiah put a finger to his lips. “Moment of silence fa my ass, please.”

Micah just stared down at him, then laughed as he pulled out, plopping onto his back next to him. “Be fa real. Was my shit trash?”

“Nah. It was aight,” Jeremiah nodded.

“Just aight?” Micah raised a brow.

Jeremiah nodded again. “I can’t say you good, fa yo ass start thinkin’ shit sweet—thinkin’ you daddy.”

Micah just rolled his eyes, then he climbed on top of Jeremiah, putting Jeremiah’s hands on his ass as he straddled him.

He looked down into Jeremiah’s eyes. “You always gon’ be my daddy,” Micah told him.

Jeremiah bit down on his lip, feeling himself get a bit hard again. “You wanna third from me?”

“Yes, please,” Micah breathed. “Imma always need dat dih, papi,” Micah chuckled, leaning down to kiss Jeremiah, who flipped him onto his back.

He was about to grab his legs, but first he hopped down off the bed, grabbed a towel, and wiped his ass. “I can’t fuck right witcho nut drippin’ down my booty hole.” He smacked his lips, and Micah just laughed, watching as Jeremiah climbed back onto the bed, grabbing Micah’s legs again, this time aligning his dick with Micah’s hole.

He started kissing Micah’s lips, sucking on them, putting Micah’s legs over his shoulders as he thrust inside him. “Ah-ahhh,” Micah moaned, grabbing Jeremiah’s arms.

“You fucked me good today, Micah—Imma fuck you great today—essa deal?” Jeremiah asked in his ear, giving Micah his full length, causing his toes to curl.

“Yeah.” Micah moaned. “Yeah, daddy, fuck me good,” Micah moaned.

Jeremiah grabbed his throat, pinning him to the bed as he started giving Micah rough strokes that left him breathless.

It was time for payback…

•••

the next day

Micah was already awake. He was in the living room, working on a drawing for his art class.

He yawns a bit, for he was a bit tired from yesterday. Fucking, then they decided to have a late-night training session.

They were just as passionate playing basketball as they were having sex, so it lasted for a couple of hours too.

He’d already made him and Jeremiah breakfast. He was just waiting for Jeremiah to wake up.

Jeremiah never ended up going to Lamar’s place. He woke up groggy, yawning and scratching his chest.

The memories of the previous day came pouring back in. “We are nasty as fuck,” he said low to himself as he hopped out of the bed, heading to Micah’s bathroom to do his morning routine.

Afterwards, he left Micah’s room, heading first to the couch, sitting down next to Micah, kissing his cheek. “Good mornin’.”

Micah blushed a bit, turning towards him. “Good mornin’,” he said back, leaning in to peck his lips.

“You made food?” Jeremiah asked. “Not sayin’ I’m expectin’ you too—”

“You do,” Micah cut him off. “Don’t lie.” He smiled.

Jeremiah smacked his lips. “Nooo. Now, am I used to it? Yes, butchu been cookin’ fa a nigga—before we started havin’ sex. You jus’ always liked me, huh?”

“Nigga, I cooked for other people besides you.” Micah rolled his eyes.

“Such as?”

“Nigga, our teammates, uhh-you forgot I gotta ex-fiance?” Micah asked.

“You burly liked ha, n I did forget, sorry,” Jeremiah cheesed.

“Really?” Micah chuckled. “You petty as fuck.”

“So?” Jeremiah raised a brow.

Micah just laughed, but then it died down when he thought of how Kelia asked him to go with her to the hospital.

“Speakin’ of… her. She asked me ta go to the hospital with her toma,” Micah told him.

Jeremiah shrugged. “So, go.”

“I jus’… wanted ta letchu know.”

“She still gotcho baby, so…” Jeremiah shrugged again. “You gotta do whatchu gotta do,” he laughed off his sentence.

“Okay,” Micah nodded. “Yo food onna table.” He pointed.

He didn’t really believe Jeremiah was cool with it, knowing how jealous he was, but Micah couldn’t focus on that.

The fact of the matter was, she was having his baby, and he needed to be there, regardless of who Micah was with.

He didn’t need Jeremiah’s approval, but he wanted Jeremiah to trust him.

Or maybe he wanted to say it aloud, tell Jeremiah, so that he could write an unspoken bond… Do I trust myself? He had a fleeting thought.

“Okay, baby,” Jeremiah kissed his cheek again before standing. “Imma be out today with Mar n Drey finally—I texted them niggas last night. We gon’ head ta the stu, prolly Lamar crib.”

“Okay,” Micah responded. “Bitches rey be inna stu’, too?” he asked.

“I don’t kno,” Jeremiah laughed.

“I’a smack you n allem whores, by the way.” Micah scoffed. “N Lamar and Dreya fa bein’ thur.”

Jeremiah only laughed. “You gon’ hit a lady?”

“No, but I’ll think about it real tough,” Micah stood up, walking over towards. “Long story short, don’t fuck wit me, Jeremiah,” he told him, pushing him down onto the table chair, straddling him.

Jeremiah smiled, putting his hands on his ass, grabbing it. “I only fuck you, baby–neva witchu.” He chuckled, and Micah sighed deeply, standing back up and heading towards the couch.

“Whur you goin’?” Jeremiah laughed. “Come back!”

“Man, I got shit ta do,” Micah waved him off.

The two continued their morning banter, soon with Jeremiah leaving to head to the studio, meeting Lamar and Dreya there, for an early session.

Jeremiah got into an Uber, heading towards Taylor Made Music Studio.

He wasn’t in the mood to drive.

Especially after being bent over. He needed a day of relaxation.

He arrived first. Of course, the other two were going to be late.

It was eleven-something in the morning, and they were all twenty-something-year-olds.

They all hated the morning, but Jeremiah was quite punctual.

“Wassup?” Jeremiah was greeted by Malik, who came up to him, dapping him up. “Early nigga gets the worm!” Malik chuckled.

Jeremiah just smirked, used to Malik’s antics by now, but he would always come here. He felt like he made some of his best here.

“Good mornin’, Mr Taylor,” Jeremiah greeted him.

Malik smacked his lips. “I know I’m gettin’ up ‘er, but damn, Mister?” he raised a brow.

Jeremiah laughed, then looked up, seeing a tall man, who was about as tall as him, entering the store with two car seats in both hands, with another young girl next to him. “Good mornin’, baby,” he called out to Malik. “Hello, ta you too, sir,” he greeted Jeremiah with a blinding smile.

You could tell he was older, but… he still looked as if he was in his late twenties.

“Wassup, Tre.” Malik held his hand out.

Jeremiah watched as the man named Tre put the two babies down on the couch at the front of the store where they were.

He then watched as Tre put both of his hands on his hips, looking at Malik with confusion. “What the hell are you doin’?” he asked.

Jeremiah then watched as Malik cracked up laughing, and so did the young girl. “You always get him, dad!” She ran over to high-five him.

After Malik got done laughing, he went up to Tre, reaching up to wrap his arms around Tre’s shoulders, standing on his tiptoes, poking his lips out.

Jeremiah watched in awe as Tre bent down just a bit to kiss him, putting his hand gently around Malik’s waist as he sucked on his lips, just a bit.

“It’s otha people’s kids around us, baby,” Malik told him, pointing to Jeremiah.

“Kid?” Jeremiah whispered.

“Y’all are so gross!” the young girl yelled out.

“Malikai, you so dramatic,” Trevon told her. “Go get sum fruit fa breakfast, inna back,” he pointed towards Malik’s office.

“Okay!” She spoke cheerfully, then ran towards the back.

Malik finally turned back to Jeremiah, although he was still wrapped around Tre, on his tiptoes. “My bad,” he let him go. “His not hur often, so you ain’t get ta meet him. This is my husband, Trevon. Tre, this is my luh pupil, Jeremiah–or Woody Kent. The one I showed you.” He nodded.

Jeremiah was just in shock.

Husband.

Husband…

Husband?

Malik… has… a husband?

Malik?

This ghetto, hood-ass nigga? Every time I see him, he has a gun in his pocket.

I mean, look at him, he don’t even look gay.

…But, do I? He thought.

“Nice ta meetchu, Jeremiah,” Trevon greeted him, holding his hand out. “Malik shows me your stuff all the time. I can say it makes me so happy ta see my baby helpin’ people reach they full potential. I proud of y’all, and I can’t wait ta get an invite ta the GRAMMYs.” Trevon laughed, making Jeremiah smile.

“GRAMMYs?” Jeremiah questioned.

“You hurd me, luh nigga. GRAMMYs.” Trevon nodded, making jazz hands.

Jermeiah just burst out laughing at him.

Trevon furrowed his brows. “Also, if you eva need a music video shot, your producer’s husband ova hur,” he made a clicking sound with his mouth, pointing towards himself with his thumb, “has a production company.” He pulled out his card, giving it to Jeremiah.

“Thank… you,” Jeremiah spoke awkwardly.

“You intimidatin’ him, Tre,” Malik chuckled.

Trevon rolled his eyes. “Whatever, hit me up–Facebook. Instagram–”

“Stop, promotin’ yoself in my shit,” Malik chuckled, playfully pushing him.

“Who bought the buildin’?” Trevon trolled him back. “I could call the bank, n get this hoe demolished tonight.”

Malik only laughed. “You tryna have my pupil see domestic violence, Trevon,” he laughed.

Jeremiah could help but smile.

They almost reminded him of an older version of him and Micah.

It was causing Jeremiah to… It made him have a lot of thoughts that didn’t necessarily make sense at the moment.

“Anyway, I’m goin’ ta get us lunch. You want anything, Jeremiah?” Trevon asked.

Jeremiah shook his head. “No, sir,” he told Trevon, who nodded, then went over two the two babies, giving them both kisses, then leaving.

“My apologies,” Malik chuckled as he went over to pick up the two car seats, then he and Jeremiah started heading towards his office.

“No need to do et,” Jeremiah told him. “Can I ask sum?”

“Yeah, go ‘head,” Malik spoke as they approached his office.

“You need me to hold one of ’em?” Jeremiah asked.

Malik shook his head no, but handed Jeremiah one of the carseats anyway. “Thank you, hold ya niece, please.”

“Oh, I’m ya luh bro,” Jeremiah asked, holding one of the baby’s car seats.

“Of course,” Malik smiled, opening up his door.

They saw his daughter, Malikai, with orange peels all over the counter.

“Malikai, pick yo shit up,” Malik told her.

“Sorry, Dad,” she told him, then started throwing away her peels.

“N whatchu wanted to ask?” Malik turned back towards Jeremiah, taking one of the babies out of the car seat.

“Uhh,” Jeremiah paused.

He wanted to know more about… Malik’s life. He was intrigued, and he felt like the two were very similar in their background and where they came from.

Jeremiah even heard Malik mention being in a gang before, so he wondered how he ended up with a husband and… four daughters.

Jeremiah was too nervous to ask that, though. He felt it was too invasive. “Nun… iss’ not important.”

“You sho’?” Malik asked, going over to help Malikai clean up.

“Yeah. Whur you want me to put her?” Jeremiah asked.

“To ha big sister,” he pointed to Malikai, who was just about finished.

“Can you help me feed the twins, Mali? Youn’ have to if you wanna go play ya game,” he asked her.

“Nah, I’ll help, daddy,” Malikai giggled, and Jeremiah handed her the baby.

“And I’ll be over hur writin’ until my frens get hur,” Jeremiah told Malik, who nodded.

“Sound good, lemme see watchu got inna few. I’ll show you some of my shit too,” Malik told him.

Jeremiah smiled and nodded, going to his favorite chair in Malik’s office, sitting down, pulling out his phone to begin writing.

•••

“Bye, young niggas!” Malik yelled at Jeremiah, Lamar, and Dreya as they left the building.

Jeremiah had a successful session, making a complete song that Malik was going to mix and master for him. “Bye, ‘Lik–Aye, hit me, I gotta sale comin’ soon!” Lamar yelled out.

“You know I gotchu, ‘Mar!” Malik yelled back. “Bye, y’all!”

“Bye!” Dreya and Jeremiah yelled at the same time.

They then split up, heading towards Lamar’s crib, with Jeremiah hopping inside of Dreya’s car, since he didn’t drive his.

“Et shit sounded, fah,” Dreya dapped Jeremiah up. “You rey be so fuckin’ big, Miah. Ion think you know.”

“Y’all niggas keep sayin’ et,” Jeremiah chuckled.

“The only nigga who don’t see yo potential is you, Jeremiah,” Dreya poked his cheek before starting up her car, following behind Lamar out of the driveway.

“I guess…” Jeremiah trailed off. “You know Malik married to a nigga?” he asked her.

“Who married to a nigga?” Dreya asked in shock.

“Malik,” Jeremiah repeated.

“The short, hood nigga, who carries a pistol every time I see him?” Dreya asked.

“Yeah, Drey–no cap, I met the nigga today. He big as shit. My height, but you can tell the nigga was buff as shit… but the total opposite of Malik. He seemed damn nur like he was from the burbs,” Jeremiah chuckled, clapping his hands. “He seemed coo’ tho, but I was just shocked cuz like… Malik?” Jeremiah rambled.

“And Malik the bottom?” That was all Dreya gathered from Jeremiah’s rambling.

“Oh, he’s gettin’ fucked fasho, you ain’t see that nigga–he defly not gettin’ bent, but he did seem more gay than Malik, but I saw Malik get on his mufuckin’ tippy toes n suck on esnigga lips, so… shit. Ion fuckin’ know at this point, Drey,” Jeremiah shrugged.

“Why you tellin’ me alles, Miah?” Dreya asked, raising a brow.

Jeremiah sighed, “Ion know…” he blinked. He then stared out of the car windshield, just staring into the distance, his eyes not focusing on anything. “I guess… fa a second… fa a split one, before I blinked, I saw me n… Micah,” he said lowly. “That… shit like et is possible, I guess.” He admitted.

Dreya smiled. “Shit like et is possible, Jeremiah–like you said, you saw it in real life, so… if es how you saw your future, make it possible,” she told him. “Es all I can say.” She nodded.

Jeremiah nodded back, holding his hand out, and Dreya dapped him up. “Real shit,” he chuckled.

The rest of the ride was in silence. The two just listened to their favorite albums, showing each other music, bonding, and growing even closer.

They soon arrived at Lamar’s place, which already looked like it had people in it, and Lamar was already inside, for he had arrived a few minutes earlier.

“Damn, who’s hur?” Jeremiah asked as they stepped out of the car.

“You know Mar always got some mufuckas around,” Dreya answered.

He arrived at Lamar’s door, hearing someone shout at him. “Aye, Woody Kent?”

Jeremiah and Dreya looked up, seeing one of Lamar’s loyal customers, Pablo, walk up to them.

“Wassup, Pab,” Jeremiah dapped him up, then Dreya.

“Aye! My nigga blowin’ up. You gotta putta nigga on when you make it fareal!” He laughed, pulling Jeremiah into an unexpected hug.

He cringed, not being prepared for the physical contact, but he took a deep breath, pulling back.

“I gotchu,” Jeremiah gave him a fake-ish smile.

It wasn’t the first time a random in the hood, who never gave a fuck about him, asked him for a favor.

Pablo rarely even spoke to him, and he’s known him for years. He’s been a buyer since their senior year of high school.

“I also saw you online, breakin’ up girl fights n shit.” Pablo chuckled.

Jeremiah raised a brow. “Girl fights?” he asked.

Pablo started laughing even harder. “You know, what that bitch-lookin’ nigga name is? The light-bright on yo team,” he tapped Jeremiah’s shoulder.

Jeremih looked at his hand again, feeling his body cringe at the unwanted contact. Then he looked up at Pablo, trying to figure out if he was talking about Micah, and just the thought of him talking about Micah made Jeremiah’s blood start boiling.

“Who?” Jeremiah asked. “Issa few.”

Pablo smacked his lips. “Man, you know—Parks, sum. His brotha Michael Jr, inna NBA! Micah, yeah-es his name.”

Jeremiah balled up his fist.

“Bitch ass nigga, can’t fight—them two niggas damn nur look like they was dry humpin’—shit, I even hurd from a luh post on Facebook, es why et nigga try n kill hisself cuz he a fruit cup n his BM found out,” Pablo gossiped.

Jeremiah then felt Dreya grab his hand. “Why you talkin’ like et? Youn fuck wit gay mufuckas no more? What about me?” Dreya smacked her lips.

Meanwhile, Jeremiah was fuming, and he wanted nothing more than to beat the shit out of Pablo.

“Man, es different—you a female,” Pablo told Dreya.

Dreya just shook her head. “Go inside n getcho pills, junkie.” She pointed towards the door, and Pablo just laughed.

“Aye, hit me up tho’, Jeremiah—I make beats, n I rap too!” He yelled out as he headed towards the door.

Dreya gave him a fake laugh. “He’ll hitchu!” she lied, trying to make the situation better, knowing how her friend was by now.

After Pablo had left the two, Dreya grabbed both of Jeremiah’s arms. “Calm down, Miah—et nigga ain’t worth it,” Dreya said low to him. “He don’t know shit about shit—”

“Fuck a rumor like et even come from?” Jeremiah asked aloud.

“I don’t know,” Dreya shrugged, and then Jeremiah thought about his foster father.

He pulled out his phone, searching through his Facebook, searching for his foster father’s real identity, and scrolling through it.

Jeremiah aggressively scrolled, looking through, but finding nothing. “Wassup, Jeremiah? Wuss goin’ on?” Dreya asked.

He unintentionally ignored her, continuing to scroll, but finding nothing, getting angrier that he couldn’t find the source of the rumor.

“Jeremiah!” Dreya called out to him. “Relax, my nigga.” She shook him. “Do you know you to niggas are well known? You know many little ass gay rumors, hatin’ ass mufuckas made about people—then Micah is a pretty boy. He prolly been havin’ mufuckas think he gay since birth. So, let’s think, n let’s breathe, okay?” she asked him, and Jeremiah nodded.

“Come on—In,” Dreya told him, inhaling as much as she could. Jeremiah followed suit. “Out,” she breathed out, and Jeremiah did the same. “You good, okay? Let’s not always think of the negative. Not everyone is lookin’ atchu wit a microscope, n you also cannot save him from everything, Jeremiah—rememba et too, okay?” Dreya told him, then turned around, locking their arms. “Okay?” she looked at him.

Jeremiah nodded. Dreya raised a brow. “Okay, nigga—I hur you. Damn, mama,” Jeremiah scoffed.

Dreya smiled, “Thank ya, now let’s kick these junkies out n bully Mar,” she told him, making Jeremiah smirk as they went inside.

•••

a while later

“You sho’, youn wanna hit es mufucka?” Lamar asked Jeremiah, holding out the blunt.

Jeremiah shook his head, “I gotta game comin’ up.”

Lamar nodded, looking over at Jeremiah, noticing his low energy. “Wuss wrong, Miah? I feel like you been holdin’ out onna nigga, lately,” he spoke honestly.

Jeremiah looked up at Lamar.

Lamar was someone Jeremiah loved with all his heart, and yet, he was terrified to tell him the truth of the confusion going on in his head, and how he’s in love for the first time, but… it was with a man.

How could he tell him? Jeremiah was scared of being judged by people who meant the world to him. He was different from Dreya. She knew the life he was a part of.

“Miah,” Lamar called out, tapping his shoulder.

“Sorry,” Jeremiah jumped a bit, snapping out of his thoughts. “Umm…” he cleared his throat.

“Sum ta do wit the nigga you always be wit recently?” Lamar asked.

Jeremiah shrugged. “You would still fuck wimme if I was even more different frum you, besides jus’ havin’ a dumbass brain?”

Lamar smacked his lips. “I hate when you say bullshit, Jeremiah—ain’t shit wrong witchu—n different like how?” he asked. “I don’t thank shit will change between me n a nigga I been knowin’, n been thru real shit wit, but go ahead, lemme know wassup… or you ain’t ready?”

Jeremiah shook his head. Lamar sighed, “Well, Imma be hur when you are.” He affirmed Jeremiah.

Jeremiah only facepalmed himself. He then saw as Lamar stood up, hearing his door ring, simultaneously hearing his phone ring in his pocket.

It was his father. “Yeah, pops?” He answered reluctantly.

“How you doin’, son? Why I feel like we ain’t chatted in a while? Wassup?” Jeremy asked him, gaining a small smirk.

“Umm… I’m doin’ good, daddy—jus’ a lot goin’ on wit everything. It’s stressful, but I’m tryna figure it out as a man.” Jeremiah told him.

It was the truth—just not all of it.

Jeremy sighed, knowing his son.

Jeremiah still struggled with coming to terms with his autism. A lot of the time, he’d like to pretend it didn’t exist, and also being conditioned by society of what a man is supposed to be, Jeremiah only struggled even more.

He was slightly embarrassed by it—by the fact that he just couldn’t think the way others did, frustrated with himself.

Jeremiah only wants to be of help and never a burden.

It’s from his past that causes him to feel this way, and one of the direct sources of his pain was now extorting him.

If he tells, he’d be involving people that shouldn’t have to be involved, potentially putting them in harm’s way.

That’s what Jeremiah thought. It was his problem to fix.

Jeremiah still feels awful for the way he snapped at his father after Jeremy mistakenly invited him.

“I understand that, Jeremiah. I really do, but don’t let tryna be a man land you in a position you shouldn’t—that’s how I ended up in prison,” Jeremy told him. “I love you until the day the universe ceases to exist, son—rely on me.”

Jeremiah felt his lip quivering a bit, and honestly, the words were on the tip of his tongue; he wanted to tell him, but his mouth wouldn’t move to form the sentence.

All he felt like doing at the moment was crying. It was moments like these that Jeremiah felt as if he was the opposite of a man, and more of a baby.

He stood up, quickly going into the bathroom while his overstimulated brain refused to talk; it just allowed him to cry and listen to his father’s words as he sat on the toilet seat cover.

“You listenin’ ta me son?” Jeremy asked him through the phone, sternly, after a bit of routine talking-to, as Jeremiah wiped his face.

He nodded, then remembered Jeremy couldn’t see him, and he opened his mouth, struggling to speak at first. “Y-yes, daddy. I hur you, n Imma s-say what I gotta say, when I gotta, b-but I jus’ can’t right now. I need ta figure shit out on my own.”

“Jeremiah—” He hung up, wiping his face, and stayed in the bathroom for a while as he got himself together.

“You aight in ‘er?” Lamar knocked on the door.

“Yeah?” Dreya added on.

Jeremiah opened the door, nodding with a smile on his face. “I jus’ hadda luh moment, nun ta trip ova tho’,” he shook his head.

“You sure?” Dreya asked, looking into Jeremiah’s eyes.

He couldn’t hide from her.

“No, but I don’t wanna talk about it right now—I can’t, so I jus’ need everyone ta give a nigga some time, okay?” Jeremiah asked them, more tears unintentionally falling from his eyes.

Lamar instantly and aggressively pulled Jeremiah into a hug. “You aight, my nigga,” he told him as he rubbed his back.

“I know,” Jeremih sniffled as Lamar rubbed his back and Jeremiah rested his head on his shoulder.

Dreya went to the living room, sitting down. She wanted to honestly talk to Micah herself, thinking of how much disarray had been surrounding Jeremiah since they’ve been messing around.

She thought it was toxic, and clearly, it was not working out well for them.

She knew what it was like to battle your sexuality, though, so she held grace for Micah, and that’s why she mostly stayed in her place.

•••

On the other side of the city, Micah was currently headed his way to the dean’s office.

He felt his heart beating a million miles per minute.

Every time he had to meet his parents, his anxiety would skyrocket, but with his parents’ assistant coming, it just made it worse.

Although he valued some of the times he had with him, most of the memories came from times he had to step in to prevent his father from reprimanding him too harshly, or just sitting there watching.

With every step, a memory poured into his brain.

Like the time, he was only four years old, when he discovered he loved art by finding his mother’s nail polish.

He thought it was paint, and he started painting on his clothes and his coloring books.

As he was painting, his father walked into his room, coming over to him, looking down on over him, gasping when he saw the nail polish bottles, instantly sending a slap across his face.

David, his parents’ assistant, had been behind him. “Sir, h-he’s jus’ four—”

“He’s playin’ in fuckin’ nail polish! What the fuck you mean, he’s just four? You gotta correct that shit early.” His father walked out of the room, and David looked at Micah lying on the floor, clutching his face as he wailed from the pain.

Or… how Micah obsessed over anime and cartoons, loving to draw them in his spare time, one day getting caught drawing them in his room, getting them snatched away and ripped up.

“Take this boy to the court outside, David,” Michael Sr scoffed, pushing him towards David. “Drawing… I swur if I have to beat that homo shit outta you, I will!” he yelled at Micah, who was confused and scared. He wasn’t even interested in dating at the time, only being ten years old.

“Let’s go, Micah!” David grabbed hold of his shoulders.

“Make him shoot ’til his fuckin’ arms stop workin’—A better use than drawing fuckin’ cartoons.” Michael Sr scoffed, leaving the room.

Or the relentless days of training. “Bend your knees, Micah—what the fuck have I been telling your punk ass—” he reprimanded him.

“I-I was tryin’. I jus’ made a mistake.” Micah spoke.

“Firstly, you don’t have the opportunity to make mistakes. Your brother is already in motion to becoming a star, what are you going to do, Micah?” he said his name almost in disgust. “I really named you two correctly,” he said low, under his breath.

Micah felt like crying. He was only twelve, his brother sixteen.

He couldn’t help but let a few tears slip before feeling a slap on his face, which made him dry them immediately, despite the pain.

He knew if he didn’t stop crying, there would be more.

Crying is for girls. Boys don’t cry. I need to be like MJ…

“And stop fucking talking like that—I swear, he’s never going back to my parents,” Michael St scoffed on his way out.

In the present, Micah finally made it to the dean’s office.

His parents and David were already sitting with the woman who ran the school.

She pointed to the fourth extra chair. “Welcome, Micah.” She gave him a small smile.

“Hey, Miss Holly,” He greeted her back, sitting down.

“So, we don’t get hellos, Micah?” David chuckled. “Long time no see.” He told him that it had been a few months since they had contact.

Micah just looked over to the three, then back at the dean. “Miss Holly, why am I hur?” he asked, sitting in his chair, his legs open and his arms crossed.

“Fuckin’ pathetic,” Michael Sr said low to his wife, and Sabrina grabbed his arms, signaling for him to stop.

She didn’t want him to cause a scene in front of Dean Holly.

“Well, I really wanted to talk to you and your parents about your… mental health. Carter notified me of the altercation, Micah.” She began.

“Altercation?” Michael Sr blurted, then turned to Micah. “You got into a fight?” he was beginning to raise his voice.

Micah ignored him, shuffling in his chair a bit. “Am I speaking to mysef?!” Michael Sr yelled.

Micah looked over at him. “If I’m not sayin’ nun, what the fuck you thank?”

Micah’s eyes went wide when he felt a slap across his face. “I’ve had enough of this fuckin’ pathetic attempt at another teenage rebellion! We’ve let you go on with this bullshit for a while since you tried hanging yourself, but you are pushing it, Micah.” Michael Sr seethed as he spoke.

“Michael,” Sabrina gasped.

“So, you’re taking his side? Fighting, Sabrina? I thought I beat the hoodlum out of his ass a long time ago–” He turned to Micah. “Look, boy–”

“Michael,” Dean Holly interrupted.

“You don’t interrupt me when I’m talkin’ ta my son!” his accent started to slip. “We pay y’all too much money, so just shut the hella up!”

Micah had simply just sat there.

He sighed; it was a painful one.

There was no more cursing left in him.

“Dean, Imma do my best not ta cause no more trouble,” Micah told Dean Holly, then stood up, exiting the office.

“Whur the fuck are you goin’?” Michael Sr yelled, about to start running after him, and Micah just braced himself to be hit again, not knowing if he had reached the limit of fighting back yet.

“Michael!” he heard Sabrina’s muffled voice behind the doors as he tried to calm her husband down.

Their muffled argument grew quieter as Micah felt his eyes beginning to burn.

“Micah!” David called after him.

Micah shook his head. “Leave me alone.”

“Micah!” He ran after him. “C’mon, man–talk ta me for a second. How did it get this bad between you n him?” he asked Micah.

“This bad?” Micah scoffed. “Nigga go kill yoself, n I mean et,” he told him, then turned around and started walking away again.

“But you don’t mean that, Micah–talk to me-“

“FUCK YOU MEAN TALK, NIGGA?” Micah yelled. “This nigga been es way since I was fuckin’ BORN!” he yelled with tears running down his face, pointing in his direction.”You witnessed it. Got this way? It’s been this way, David. I been a fuckin’ failure. I been the son they didn’t need. The black sheep. You know et, nigga,” he poked his finger into his chest. “So, when I turn around, don’t fuckin’ follow me, and if you actually want to help me in the twenty sum yurs you been around, then go stop et nigga from tryna put his hands on me, sum you ain’t neva been successful at,” Micah told him, wiping his face, then turning around, walking with a purpose, never stopping.

Instead of going back to the dorms, Micah went to the gym.

He wanted to blow off some steam, doing the very thing that sometimes felt like a source of trauma.

Micah put on a front, smiling at some of the other athletes in the gym before he went into the locker room, changing his clothes.

Afterwards, heading towards the court, focusing on the goal, continuously throwing shots, and even doing some laps around the gym.

He trained on and off, focusing on homework in between.

His family and David had tried contacting him, eventually giving up when Micah decided not to do any more homework and turned on his phone for the night.

He left the gym, heading towards his dorm.

When he walked inside, he noticed Jeremiah still hadn’t been home, so he decided to wait for him, sitting on the couch.

Micah wanted to talk to him. He really felt like Jeremiah was his confidant.

He sat on the couch, pulling back his phone out, turning it back on.

Once he did, he saw that he had some missed texts and calls–mostly from David and some from his mother.

He got a text from Kelia, asking if she could call.

Micah sighed, pressing her contact and dialing up her number. “Wussup, I already told you I was comin’ ta the doctor witchu toma.”

“I know… I just wanted to talk to you, Micah…” Kelia admitted. She then started sniffling. “This shit ain’t getting any easier, and I really need you, and I miss you, us. I want us to be a family–”

“Kelia,” Micah spoke. He sighed deeply, “Bab–No,” he slipped up, shaking his head. It didn’t even feel right. “That jus’… it can’t happen. You hurt me, beyond.“

“Am I not worth starting over? Is our family not?” she asked, and Micah just stayed silent.

He couldn’t answer it.

Micah then heard the knob of their door moving, indicating Jeremiah was home. “I gotta go. I’ll see you toma.” He told her, then quickly hung up.

He waited until Jeremiah was fully inside, expecting him to come straight over to him, but Jeremiah just came over, never sitting. “Hey, tanight, Imma be in my room. I jus’ need some time, n don’t think nun innet pretty head, because it’s notchu,” he told Micah, kissing his cheek, then rushed to his room.

Jeremiah needed some alone time, taking off all of his clothes, and getting into his bed, wrapping his arms around himself until he fell asleep.

Micah just sat on the couch, stunned.

He says that it has nothing to do with me, but when has Jeremiah just closed himself off in his room if he wasn’t mad at me… or… but what did I do to make him mad?

Why doesn’t he want to cuddle and sleep with me?

Why did he barely look at me when he came inside? He didn’t even kiss me on the lips.

Micah’s mind started swirling. His anxiety increased, and the recurring feelings of being othered and unwanted swirled in his mind.

However, he stayed sitting on the couch, putting his feet up and falling asleep, silently crying to himself with his mind running wild from Jeremiah, to his father, to the mother of his unborn child, until his eyes were heavy enough that he couldn’t keep them open anymore.

•••

the next day

Peeling his eyes open, Jeremiah blinked, feeling his heart already going a thousand miles per hour. He lay in his bed until he was a bit more ready to wake up.

He sighed, getting out of bed, heading to the bathroom to do his usual hygiene.

Once he was finished, he left his room, looking around for Micah, noticing there was no breakfast.

He fake-pouted, then went to Micah’s room.

Jeremiah wanted to explain more about last night, so it wouldn’t seem like he was being mean to him.

“Micah,” he called out, twisting the door open, raising a brow when it didn’t open.

It was locked.

Micah never locked his door… even before they started messing around.

“Micah?” he knocked. He waited for a few moments before Micah came out of the room, already dressed.

Jeremiah smiled, “Good mornin’,” he reached out to hug him, getting damn near a side hug in return.

Confusion only filled Jeremiah’s head. “You good, baby?” he asked.

Micah nodded. “I’m rey head out.”

“Whur?” Jeremiah asked as he followed Micah into the living room.

“To the other side of town,” Micah kept it vague.

Jeremiah filled in the blanks. He felt a way, but… he couldn’t do anything about Micah already having someone else pregnant, and him needing to be there for certain things.

“Okay, when you gon’ be back?” Jeremiah asked.

“I don’t know.” Micah shrugged.

“Okay, well… okay,” Jeremiah said a bit awkwardly.

He didn’t like the energy Micah was giving him right now.

He also thought about the fact that he just let Micah top him, now he was getting weird energy, and he had plans with his baby’s mother all of a sudden.

Jeremiah didn’t understand it.

It was making him feel small, and he didn’t like that.

“Okay, well, I’ll see you later,” Micah told him, and Jeremiah watched as he was about to go out of the door, rushing up to the back of him, closing the door, and turning him around.

Jeremiah grabbed his face, placing a sweet and deep peck on his lips.

He felt a little better, feeling Micah relax in his arms, eventually kissing and sucking on his lips. Jeremiah pushed Micah gently against the wall, holding his waist as they kissed.

After, he pulled back, looking into Micah’s eyes, which now looked more normal than they did when he was looking at Jeremiah. “I gotta go,” Micah whispered.

“Okay,” Jeremiah nodded, pulling back completely, and Micah gave Jeremiah a kiss on the cheek before leaving.

Jeremiah just sighed.

About twenty minutes later, Micah arrived at his ex-fiancée’s house.

He stayed outside her door, refusing to come inside.

Micah didn’t have a good relationship with Kelia’s parents, and he was already going through so much with his own; he didn’t need the extra berating and telling him he wasn’t shit, as if he didn’t know and feel that way about himself already.

The door swung open, and Micah’s eyes widened a bit, seeing how big she truly was getting, as though she was already six months pregnant.

“Damn, you big,” Micah shook his head, holding his hand out to help her to the car.

Kelia chuckled. “Well,” she slightly spoke out of breath. “Whose fault is that?” she asked.

Micah smirked. “Touche.” He let out a small laugh, letting her go, then opening the car door.

Once the two were in the car, Micah strapped her in, thinking that pregnant women probably needed help with everything.

“I can put my own seatbelt on, Micah,” Kelia giggled. “Thank you tho’,” she smiled at him, and for a second, Micah stared at her, but then he looked away.

“You welcome,” Micah told her as he started driving.

A couple of minutes into the drive, she spoke again, “You look good today, Micah.” She complimented.

Micah raised a brow. “Whatchu tryna get at, Kelia?” he asked her, gripping the wheel.

“I told you several times what I wanted, Micah,” Kelia started sniffling. “I want you, and I can’t be a single mother. I want our baby to have both parents, who love each other for real, a good love–we’ll be nothing like our parents,” Kelia cried.

Micah just sighed. “I… Ion know if I can do et,” he told her honestly.

“Why?” Kelia asked him.

“Kelia,” Micah huffed.

“Answer me? Why can’t you give us another chance?” Kelia asked.

Micah opened his mouth to speak, but he was stuck.

He couldn’t say.

There was a big reason he could think of.

But, he was acting so weird last night… Was Taylor lying? No… Ion think so… but I know for a fact James’ whore ass would still pursue Jeremiah…

“Micah,” she called out his name. “Why?”

“I don’t know!” Micah snapped.

“Is it because you’re seeing someone else?” Kelia asked.

Micah felt as if his heart would almost give out from the question.

He opened his mouth, and Kelia paid attention to every action he took.

“You are,” Kelia felt her voice crack, and her eyes immediately started to water. “You’re with someone else.”

“No, I’m not,” Micah blurted quickly, and then immediately regretted it, but would he take it back?

How would he explain Jeremiah to her?

He couldn’t.

Besides, does Jeremiah really even love me enough to let go of my family? He thought as they continued down the busy afternoon streets of the city.

•••

to be continued…

Thoughts on the chapter? Predictions?

Favorite part?

Who’s your favorite character so far and why?

Least?