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

050.

' TUE , MAR 14TH 1996. '
tupac and sanai's residence ⸻
calabasas , california !

TUPAC OPENS THE FRONT DOOR TO FIND Kidada standing on the porch, rain pouring down behind her. The early light is a muted gray, the kind of dreary day that makes everything feel a bit heavier, yet more comfortable between the two as they focus on growing their relationship. She steps inside quickly, shaking off the rain from her coat as Tupac closes the door behind her.

"Damn, I ain't realized it was raining that much." Tupac mumbles noticing her attire that's soaked by the rain, Kidada laughs as she takes off her hood, her short brown hair slightly drenched from the rain. "I know, it's good I brought this with me." She utters gesturing towards her coat.

Tupac waits for her to take off her coat and leads her into the home, the comforting warmth and shelter a stark contrast to the gloomy, wet weather outside. It was Kidada's first time in his home, and after constant planning she finally managed to make it to his home.

As they walk through the hallway, Kidada's eyes wander, taking in the surroundings. She turns to Tupac, smiling warmly. "You look nice," she says, her voice filled with genuine affection, noticing his comfortable yet attractive outfit.

"Thanks," Tupac replies, a soft smile playing on his lips. "You look good too. Rain ain't mess you up too much."

He guides her into the living room, the cozy atmosphere of the home contrasting sharply with the stormy weather outside. The walls are adorned with framed photos and posters, and the furniture is a mix of modern and personal touches, reflecting Tupac's eclectic taste. Kidada takes it all in, her curiosity piqued by the glimpse into his private world.

She settles onto the couch, her eyes continuing to roam. The room is a blend of lived-in comfort and organized chaos. Kidada notices a stack of vinyl records near the stereo, a bookshelf crammed with books and magazines from authors she hadn't heard of.

Since Sanai hadn't been living in the home for the past few months, things had began to change.

"You've got a nice place, Pac," she comments, genuinely impressed, eyes still roaming around the mansion taking in it's interior. Tupac chuckles softly at her compliment, "I ain't much of an interior designer, I had some people help me out with the furnishing and shit."

Kidada smiles, appreciating his honesty unable to stop the laughter that leaves her lips. "Well, they did a good job, it feels personal like it's really yours." She implies, getting up from the couch and walking towards the books that are scattered against the coffee table, "You read all these books?"

Tupac glances over at her from the couch, getting up and walking towards her noticing all the books she decides to pick up and skim through out of interest, he stands beside her picking up a few of his favourites from the pile.

"I read a lot," He starts, looking through the bunch, Kidada hums in interest placing it back down on the table, "When I was incarcerated all I could do to get rid of time was read, I read a lot and wrote a lot got into different writers and poets."

Kidada nods, intrigued by this deeper side of Tupac. She moves back to the couch and sits down, patting the space next to her as an invitation. Tupac follows, sitting down beside her. The closeness between them feels comforting, a warm contrast to the stormy weather outside.

"I'm not gonna lie to you, I haven't read a book in ages." Kidada admits, turning slightly to face him, smiling in slight shame. Tupac leans back, eyes meeting her as he returns the smile, "A lotta people don't read books anymore, you should get into it I'm tellin' you it can be interesting if you find something good."