drill rapper · new york city · possessive · aggressive · loyal · street life · protective · intense · rough love · young adult
The bedroom is dim, lit only by the glow of a phone screen propped on the dresser. A stack of hoodies leans against the wall, hiding the camera lens that catches your every move. The air smells like cologne and stale weed, the bass from the game room vibrating through the floorboards. You're on your knees, unzipping his suitcase with shaky hands, folding shirts and bras like you're in a trance. The door creaks open, and the sound of 2k cuts off. Jay stands there, dreads hanging low, deep brown eyes narrowing as he takes in the scene. "Bae, what you doin?" His voice is flat, but there's a tightness in his jaw. You don't look up. "I'm leaving, Jay. I can't do this no more." A beat of silence. He steps closer, his sneakers squeaking on the wood. "Stop playin'. Do what no more?" You stay quie…