Fireworks 1 and 2

Chapter Eighty

    The following day, Drake took Mia back to his compound. Bri and Shawn were along for the ride, a package deal.

    The press had a field day with the story. The 9-1-1 call, of course, was leaked. That would be the 9-1-1 call where Drake threatened the life of an NFL player. And since the story was being run by every form of media known to man, the internet was overrun with all sorts of memes. Comedians nationwide were coming out with quotes and Instagram videos making statements like, "And ya'll niggas said that Drake wasn't street enough! Ya'll niggas said he wasn't hood enough! Ya'll said that Drake wasn't hard! Meanwhile he's threatening to kill niggas. Not just any niggas. Athletes. How street are you? How hard are you? God damn!"

    Meanwhile, his boys and his family were smothering him with questions about the Trevor incident. They were concerned that a member of Trevor's team would try to retaliate by taking legal action against Drake. There was no reason for their concern. There was video evidence of Trevor damn near killing Mia before Drake got to him. He was being deemed as a hero by the press, by his fans, and even by the haters that couldn't stand him.

    Then again, he didn't care about any of that. The old him probably would have cared. The old him probably would have loved that he was developing a tougher image as a result of nearly beating Trevor to death. All he currently cared about, though, was Mia. He wanted to make sure she was truly out of the woods. She described what Trevor had done to her and from that description, she'd taken a lot of blows to the head.

    It was crazy how sometimes it took a tragic event such as Mia's attack to put everything into perspective. If you fuck up, and your girl leaves you, you have a lifetime to try to win her back, if you want to. But if she dies, there is nothing you can do to get her back. Not to mention it was possible she would still be living, had you not fucked up in the first place.

    "Deep," he said aloud now, seated on his bedroom balcony smoking hookah. His phone notifications were going off and he ignored them. More questions from friends and family, wanting to know what happened and was he okay? Was his girlfriend okay? What was he going to do? He was tired of talking about it, tired of explaining.

    He set down the hookah pipe and stood up from his seat. He turned and slid open the balcony door and stepped inside his bedroom. Leaving the balcony door open, he slowly approached the bed. He was barefoot, so his steps were ninja silent.

    He stood beside the bed, staring down. Mia was resting in the bed, completely unconscious. Beautiful dark hair spilling behind her on the pillow. Lips parted, eyes closed, one palm planted on the pillow beside her face, sheets pulled up to her chest. Her face was marked, as a result of Trevor's attack. She'd escaped a broken nose, but bruises were scattered along her cheeks. There was broken skin above her eyebrow; the nurse at the hospital had fixed a Band-Aid to it to help stop the bleeding. There were cuts on the inside of her lips, most likely from her own teeth when she was being punched by Trevor.

    He balled his hands into fists and slowly lowered down onto the edge of the bed, lifting a hand and caressing her arm. He'd been up all night, worried about her. After he'd brought her home from the hospital, he'd gotten into bed with her. He'd tried to fall asleep, but he couldn't. He was plagued by nightmares, nightmares that Trevor had gotten her into the car. Nightmares that Drake had never seen her again. The nightmares, combined with his overwhelming concern for her, made sleeping impossible. He'd gotten up and had gone to sit out on the balcony. He'd written some lyrics, smoked a little hookah, and thought long and hard about his life and Mia's place in it.

    Now, he looked down at her lovingly while caressing her arm. It was easy to feel angry when he remembered what she'd gone through, but what he really needed to focus on was the fact that she was here. She was safe. And Trevor would soon be in jail where he belonged. Rather than allowing anger to consume him, he should feel grateful that things worked out.

    "I'm grateful," he said, stretching out alongside her and stroking her face. "I'm grateful that you're here with me, right now. I'm grateful to know you. I'm just...grateful."

    Her eyelashes fluttered slightly, but her eyes remained closed.

    He closed his eyes, continuing to stroke her cheek. He remembered how bloodied and battered she'd looked the previous night, in that parking lot. He remembered the sharp stab of guilt he'd felt. He was grateful, but that guilt was still there. His brows furrowed as words started to form in his mind. Those words came together to form sentences, lines. Lyrics. He opened his mouth, with his brows still furrowed, and started to sing:

"You were almost taken out of my life,

You were almost taken from me...

You have had to go through so much strife,

But now you're here and I'm yours, faithfully.

I'm yoooooooooooours.

I wanna give you all of me.

I'm yoooooooooooours.

I am yours, faithfully."

    He smoothed her hair back, another tear sliding down his cheek as he continued to sing.

"Baby I'm nothing without you,

I always want you right by my side.

Just tell me what it is I must do,

In order to make everything right.

This is my heartfelt promise to you...

I'm yoooooooooooours.

I wanna give you all of me.

I'm yoooooooooooours.

I am yours, faithfully.

I am yours, faithfully...

So please never walk away from me...

I said don't ever stay away from me,

Not even a day from me...

And I'll stay yooooooooooooours..."

    While brushing her hair back, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. Finally.