𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐘, ᵁᴺᴰᴱᴿᴳᴿᴼᵁᴺᴰ ᴿᴬᴾᴾᴱᴿˢ & ᴿᴬᴾᴾᴱᴿˢ

DEADBEAT, 005

IN WHICH... HE'S WAS NEVER THERE FOR THEIR CHILD.

THE BABY'S WAILS ECHOED THROUGHOUT THE SMALL APARTMENT, ADDING TO Y/N'S ALREADY MOUNTING FRUSTRATION.

She bounced her little one on her hip, trying to soothe him, but her mind was elsewhere, which was fixated on Deante. That man had the nerve to ghost them both, and now he was dodging responsibility.

She grabbed her phone and dialed his number, her pulse quickening with every ring.

Meanwhile, Deante was in the studio, vibing with Benjamin and Keandrian. They were deep into a beat, laughing and passing a blunt between them when his phone buzzed.

"Yo, it's Y/N," Deante muttered, rolling his eyes.

Benjamin and Keandrian exchanged glances, smirking as Deante picked up the call.

"The fuck you want, Y/N?" Deante answered, annoyance dripping from his voice.

"You a deadbeat ass father, Deante!" Y/N's voice crackled with anger. "Can't even provide for your fuckin' child. You think this shit a game? I'ma put your ass on child support, watch."

Benjamin and Keandrian tried to stifle their laughter, but Y/N's fury was no joke.

"Man, you trippin'," Deante replied, nonchalant. "I told you I ain't got it right now. Why you always buggin'?"

"Buggin'? You got me all the way fucked up!" Y/N's voice hit a high pitch. "You out here in the studio, spending' money on weed, beats, hoes, but you can't take care of your own kid? Nah, fuck that. You gonna pay one way or another."

"Y/N, you trippin'," Deante said, shaking his head. "I got my own shit to deal with. You think this music gon' make itself?"

Keandrian leaned in, whispering, "Yo, handle your shit, man. She sound mad for real."

Deante waved him off, but Y/N wasn't backing down.

"I don't give a damn about your music, Deante," Y/N shot back. "Our child deserves better than this. You need to step up or step out for good. I'm done playin' these games."

Deante sighed, rubbing his temples. "Alright, alright. Just chill, aight? We can talk about this later."

"Later?" Y/N laughed bitterly. "There ain't no later, Deante. You either start sending that money, or I swear on everything, I'm taking your ass to court. You gon' regret ever playing with me."

With that, Y/N hung up, leaving Deante staring at his phone, the reality of her words sinking in.

Benjamin shook his head, exhaling smoke. "Bro, you better get your shit together."

Deante knew he was right. He had to figure something out, and fast.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

LATER THAT EVENING DEANTE FOUND HIMSELF STANDING OUTSIDE Y/N'S APARTMENT,

a sense of dread knotting his stomach. The neighborhood was quiet, the occasional car passing by, but his mind was racing with what he was about to face.

He took a deep breath and knocked on the door. It swung open to reveal Y/N, her expression a mix of surprise and anger.

"What do you want, Deante?" she snapped, crossing her arms.

"I came to talk," Deante said, trying to keep his voice steady. "Can I come in?"

Y/N hesitated, but she stepped aside, allowing him into the small living room. The baby was asleep in a crib nearby, the soft glow of a nightlight casting shadows on the walls.

Deante took a seat on the worn couch, rubbing his hands together. "Look, Y/N, I know I've been messin' up. I ain't been there like I should, and I'm sorry."

"Sorry ain't gonna feed our child, Deante," Y/N shot back. "You think this shit easy? I'm out here hustling every day to make ends meet while you out there living your dream."

"I know," Deante said quietly. "And I want to do better. I need to do better. I was wrong for not steppin' up sooner, but I'm here now. I wanna make things right."

Y/N's expression softened just a bit, but she wasn't about to let him off easy. "So, what's your plan? You gonna start sendin' money, or is this just more talk?"

Deante took a deep breath. "I'm gonna start sendin' money, for real. I talked to my manager, and we're gonna set up direct deposits so you get somethin' steady every month. And I wanna be around more, help out with the baby. I know it ain't gonna fix everything right away, but I'm gonna try."

Y/N studied him for a moment, weighing his words. "You better be serious, Deante. I'm not playin' no more games. Our child deserves a father who shows up, not just talks about it."

"I know," Deante nodded. "And I swear, I'm gonna prove it to you. To both of you."

There was a tense silence, broken only by the soft sounds of the baby stirring in his sleep. Deante glanced over, a pang of guilt hitting him. He'd missed so much already.

Y/N sighed, her shoulders relaxing a bit. "Alright, Deante. I'm giving you one last chance. But if you mess this up, I'm done. For real."

Deante stood up, a mix of relief and determination washing over him. "Thank you, Y/N. I won't let you down."

As he left the apartment, Deante felt a weight lift off his shoulders. He knew it was just the beginning, but he was ready to start making things right.