My Roommate, My Enemy (BXB) On Hold

Chapter One (Edited)

Dre's p.o.v.
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"Hey Dad, how have you been? I know I haven't visited in a while, and I'm really sorry about that. Life's been a crazy with school, soccer practice, and juggling work. I miss our time together.

I've got some exciting news though: I got into some of the best schools in the country! I can't wait to share it with you because I know you'd be so proud.
I didn't land a full-ride scholarship, which is a bit of a letdown, but I'm still determined to make our dream come true.

Every day, I grind hard—studying late into the night and training on the field. I think I'm leaning towards Lincoln University. The tuition is pretty steep, but I'm ready to make it work, even if it means commuting from here every day. I'm willing to put in the hours.

"Plus the soccer team at Lincoln is top-tier—you'd really love it. I don't know if I'll ever be as good as you were, but I'm trying to get there, even if it's slow going. I just want to make our dreams happen.

Dad, life has been really tough lately. Everything feels so rushed, and the foster house is pressuring me to move out now that I'm 18. Honestly, I don't have anywhere to go, and I wouldn't be surprised if I find my stuff out on the street any day now. It's hard to stay positive, but I guess struggling is just part of life. I'll have to find a cheap motel to crash in until school starts.

I miss you so much, and I wish you were here with me." I kneel down and place the flowers at your grave, wiping the stone with my fingers, trying to make it a little cleaner. "If only you knew how much I ache for you." I tilt my head back, taking a deep breath of the musky West Hollywood air, feeling the weight of it all.

I promise I'll do whatever it takes to get us both out of this place and create a future we can be proud of. I will make sure everyone knows our name, Dad, and I promise they won't forget it."

I bring two fingers to my lips and then press them against the top of the stone. "I love you, Pops." With a heavy heart, I walk away, facing all the challenges ahead.

I make my way to the sidewalk, keeping my head down and my hands out of my pockets. This is routine; it never causes problems with anyone. No one talks to me, and that's just how I prefer it. All I need is to focus on getting out of here—finding a place where I don't have to hold my head down in fear of someone misreading my vibe.

When I'm out, I keep to myself. You never know what people around here are capable of. They can drag you into all sorts of trouble, and the cops here are just as corrupt, if not more so, than those on the corners luring in kids and wasting their potential.

I used to have a friend named Alissa. She had so much potential—smart and full of life. We'd been friends since childhood, but everything changed when she lost her mom in a robbery. After that, she stopped talking to me and fell in with the wrong crowd. I tried to pull her back to her old self, but nothing worked.

I really hope she's okay. She's just one of many whose lives have been turned upside down.

As I lift my head, the scene of West Hollywood unfolds before me. It ain't all bad here; sometimes, certain spots remind me of the good times with my dad—those moments when we were just vibing. And my mom? Well, that was before she cracked. She wasn't ever really there for me, but she tried while Dad was alive. After the shooting, though, everything changed.

One minute, we were a family, and the next, I found myself alone in a cold foster home, just nine years old. I still remember how she looked when she dropped me off, eyes distant like she was already a ghost. It felt like a betrayal, leaving me in a place where I didn't belong. I waited for her to come back, thinking maybe she'd realize she messed up, that I was still here. But days turned into weeks, and hope turned sour.