"Left us behind, you seen that light glare I know you walkin' up to Heaven on them white stairs."
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"-cent spike in gang activity in the southern Chicago area has prompted law enforcement to issue a city-wide curfew. Residents under eighteen must remain indoors after 8:30 pm and older residents are urged to be alert when traveling at ni-"
Click.
Tilting his head back, Durk lets his eyes slip shut. His abdomen is a steadily pulsing source of pain, faint enough to not be uncomfortable but present enough to leave him just that much closer to the edge. Pressing a trembling hand over his stomach Durk sighs quietly.
"Try that again." He says, voice low and raspy and carefully controlled.
He is trying so hard to keep it together.
"It's like I said," Bryson starts, voice a lot softer than it was before, "I left as soon as I heard what happened, shit I headed straight here when we landed. I haven't-"
Durk turns his head suddenly, zeroing in on Bryson with half-lidded eyes.
"I haven't heard from anybody." His finishes, eyes darting to the side and Durk has to breath against a flash of violent anger, because he's lying.
"Pretend we're not fuckin' stupid," Roddy drawls, bracing his elbows on his knees as he lifts his head to level Bryson with an unimpressed stare. "- just for a second. You and Dom came together right?"
The taller man nods and scratches at the back of his neck, looking every bit as young as he is.
Durk takes a moment to remind himself of who's really standing in front of him. This is a member of his family, somebody he cares about so much that it hurts sometimes, even though the nigga is a playful little shit, Durk loves him - he's still basically a kid after all.
"Then where is he?"
"Uh, shit, I don't know." He tugs on one of his dreads and plops down on a small couch pressed against the wall. "Jermaine called him and he left, said it was important. I didn't pay attention, I just wanted to make sure a nigga was okay."
Some of the rage simmering underneath his skin ebes away at the genuine concern in Bryson's voice. The kid had walked in not even thirty minutes ago with a dozen obnoxiously colored 'Get Well Soon Nigga' balloons (He doesn't even want to know where he got those made), and a worried glint in his eyes.
Bryson did fly back in the middle of his tour, which Durk knows from experience is an extremely difficult and stressful thing to organize.
If it wasn't for the blood under his fingernails and the wicked bruise marring the underside of Bryson's jaw, Durk would be feeling a bit more compassionate.
"The same Dom and Jermaine we can't get a hold of anymore?" Roddy doesn't even let Bryson answer before he continues on, a dangerous glint in his eyes."Let me uh, let me just some things straight."
