𝗟𝗘𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝟮 𝗠𝗬 𝗨𝗡𝗕𝗢𝗥𝗡 ━━━━━ 𝘁𝘂𝗽𝗮𝗰 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗸𝘂𝗿.

042.

' TUE , DEC 4TH 1995. '
can-nam studios ⸻
tarzana , california !

     IT HAD A FEW DAYS , since Tupac had his argument with Sanai and a week since he'd last seen her or his son, he found himself inside the studio once more still tending to his workaholic ways despite the slight depression tugging at his emotions.

He'd fucked up and he knew he had, he wasn't mad at her but rather himself, his actions brought him to this conclusion, the worse conclusion possible.

Tupac stands inside of the studio booth, headphones over his head as one of the Deathrow producers plays a track, he nods his head to the rhythm on the slow jazz tune, taking a deep drag of his blunt, he'd been alternating between weed and alcohol to help take his mind off of things.

As Tupac loses himself in the music, the weight of his mistakes hangs heavy in the air around him. Each beat of the track seems to echo his regrets, amplifying the emptiness he feels without Sanai and Zahir by his side.

Despite the haze of smoke and the pulsing rhythm, Tupac's thoughts keep drifting back to them. He can't shake the image of Sanai's tear-stained face or the sound of Zahir's soft laughter from his mind. Guilt gnaws at him, a constant reminder of his shortcomings as a partner and a father.

"Tupac you gotta smile a lil' bit you can't be all grumpy and shit," Daz Dillinger suggests as he sits behind the producing equipment, a grin on his face, "You got some stuff ahead of you, nigga, California Love already a success and it only been released yesterday."

California Love has been released the past day alongside the Music Video, and after its initial release it managed to spark a lot of attention and radio play upon the iconic collaboration with both Tupac and Dr. Dre.

Tupac takes another drag of his blunt, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly at Daz's words. Despite the weight of his emotions, he appreciates Daz's attempt to lift his spirits.

"It ain't all easy to let some shit go," Tupac mutters as he moves the blunt away from his lips, eyes returning down onto the lyrics he'd written within an hour. "Nigga, I'm all alone."

Daz's expression softens alike the rest in the studio, sympathy evident in his eyes as he regards Tupac. "I know, man," he says, his voice gentle. "But you ain't gotta be alone, you know? Yeah she mad and I ain't saying she gon' run back to you, but sometimes females just need their space."

Tupac nods, acknowledging Daz's words, but the weight of his loneliness still hangs heavy on his shoulders. He hasn't revealed the news of him and Sanai to everyone yet, but despite the comforting of his fellow artists and the success of his music, there's an emptiness inside him that he can't seem to shake.

Tupac takes a deep breath, trying to push aside the thoughts that threaten to consume him. "Yeah, you right," he replies, his voice steadier now. "Play the track."

With a determined nod, Tupac gestures to the producer to start playing the track again. As the music fills the studio, he begins to rap, pouring his emotions into the lyrics and losing himself in the rhythm. With each verse, he feels a sense of release, as if the weight on his shoulders is momentarily lifted.

Days in the studio began to become blended memories for Tupac, he is always in the studio recording music and multiple songs within a day or putting together random collaborations, he truly is a workaholic and knows he had a mission to complete and finish.