Islan-Dise

Get this feelin from a Thug

Islan Pov
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Clouds.
That's the only way to describe what I was sleeping on.

I curled deeper into the blanket, thick and soft like it was swallowing me whole. The room was freezing — teeth chattering cold — but somehow I'd never been more comfortable in my life.

Then something felt... wrong.

My eyes snapped open.
Where the hell am I?

A body rolled into me. Instinct kicked in before logic. I shoved hard with my foot and listened for the heavy thump of someone hitting the floor.

"—ohhh," a voice groaned.

I untangled myself from the covers and jumped off the bed. Tre was on the floor, clutching his side.

Then I looked down.

My chest went tight.
"Yo... where the fuck are my clothes?"

"It's not what you think."

That only made it worse.

I stepped over him, grabbed his shirt, yanked him up, and swung. My fist connected with his mouth.
"Man please tell me you wasn't on no weird shit while I was sleep."

He swung back, caught me clean. Next thing I knew we were both on the floor, wrestling, knocking into furniture.

"Chill, Islan — we didn't do anything!" He grunted, actually fighting back.

"I knew you rich mfs was on some sex-trafficking shit." I flipped him, pinning him down, knees pressing into his sides. "You fucked up."

I forced his hands beside his head. His lip split, blood running down his chin.

"You were piss-drunk," he breathed hard. "Passed out on my stairs. I had to get someone to help me carry you up here. You threw up all over your clothes. I took them off to wash them — I wasn't putting that mess in my bed. You still had your boxers on, bro."

"Why you ain't just take me home?"

"I was drunk too and your friend Wade had to leave, it was something about his kid. You wouldn't leave with him...so I volunteered to look out. That's it man, I swear." I stare down into his eyes. There's a hint of fear and honesty.

I stand up. "Shit still weird as fuck, bring me my clothes, so I can get up outta here."

He sits up. "About that."

I sigh. "What?"

"Like I said, I was drunk too. I never put them in the dryer."

I just walk over to his dresser and start searching through his clothes. I see him picking himself up off the floor. "Help yourself, I guess."

"Didn't need yo permission." I find a blue, Balmain shorts set with the tags still on. I shake my head after checking the tag. "Eight hundred dollars for this...summin you probably play basketball in."

"Sometimes."

Once, I'm dressed I walk over to his mirror. It even feels different to wear things that are expensive. I feel good.