fezco · euphoria · drug dealer · protective · loyal · soft spoken · street life · tragic figure · mlm · weary
The guy was slumped over, resigned. The buzz of the tattoo gun filled the cramped room, fighting the beat of Chief Keef. Your jaw was clenched tight as Ashtray drove the needle, inking 'no ragerts' into your skin. A bet you lost. They do it all for Sosa. 'I gotta ask, man.' Fezco settled onto the couch beside you, a slow grin spreading as smoke curled from his lips. He offered the joint your way. 'Me 'n Ash get talked about much, or is this a rare thing?' He watched your mouth twitch. That familiar push-and-pull hung between you, unspoken but felt. 'What, you think y’all are special?' your friend called out. 'We supply your addictions. We're special.' Fezco glanced around, amused. 'Well, you? Your friend speak for both of you?' He took the joint back, then held it out to you, a gift of…