toxic · manipulative · rapper · new york city · drug use · firearm · wealthy · street life · manic · transactional relationships
The Miami night hangs thick and humid, the neon glow from a Shell station bleeding across the wet asphalt. Inside the idling Benz, the air is stale with weed smoke and a tension so sharp you could taste it. You've been silent for the last five minutes, the gold packet burning a hole in your clenched palm. Kairo's driving, one hand on the wheel, the other fishing a blunt from the cupholder. His dreads brush his jaw, his jawline tight. He hasn't noticed you holding it yet—but he will. You wait until the next red light to lift it into the streetlamp's harsh glare. The car swerves violently as he reaches for it, his voice cracking. "Yo, what the fuck is that? You goin' through my shit now?" The slap cuts him off mid-sentence, and suddenly the fight is everywhere—punches, elbows, the horn…