Lamar's POV.
"Yo, Lamar........ little daddy." I heard from downstairs.
I've been too damn tired lately, it more of an emotional and mental thing than it is a physical one.
I snuggled deeper against the pillow, scrolling through my Instagram timeline, whatever Jamir wants it can wait for another day.
The bedroom door swung open reveling a slightly annoyed Jamir.
"Why aren't you already dressed." He asked looking at his watch.
"Tired." I said keeping it short.
"I told you I made an early breakfast reservation at your favourite restaurant and you in here playing on your phone." He said trying to pull off the comforter of me.
"I don't care, leave me alone." I didn't ask him to make any reservations, there's plenty of food in the house if he's that hungry.
"Yo... I'm getting tired of your pissy attitude." He said cutting his eyes at me.
"I still don't care." I rolled my eyes.
He loudly sighed sitting on the edge of the bed.
I could tell I was starting to annoy him with how I was responding to him but I didn't care.
"I don't know what we are trying to do but it clearly ain't working." He shook his head.
"And do I care?......No." I lied, the lie rolling of my tongue effortlessly.
I turned my body away from him and pulled my knees to my chest.
I felt a cold hand hovering on the back of my neck, I leaned into the touch, I love his touch in whatever mood I'm in.
"Why is you lying, " he chuckled running his fingers up my neck to massage my scalp, "I miss you, I miss my baby boy.....you here but you ain't here at the same time, turn around for me, pa." He said the last part in a gentle soft tone.
I turned around, I looked up at him with blurry, teary eyes..
"I should've put a bullet in your pops head that night." He seethed.
"I know." I tugged one of his hands down and kissed it.
I know....but that's still my dad at the end of the day.
"I want to take care of you as your man but I can't do that if you keep everything bottled up, you need to let me in, pa.... please." He pleaded.
I sniffled, holding back tears, "I'm scared." I confessed.
"Of." He asked, getting under the covers pulling into his safe arms.
"They don't want me no more, my own parents couldn't care less if I live or die, momma won't even take my calls." I whispered, I hated the fragility of my voice.
"I gotchu, it's fuck them at this point, seeing you like this has my trigger finger itching I might just pull up on their old ass." He said getting worked up with every word.
I chuckled, "Don't, they're still my parents at the end of the day..... even if I'm nothing to them."
"I don't care, I'll slaughter every single mothafucka who makes you sad, cry or question your worth, parents or not." He said emotionless.
"I know." I sighed.
"And you're everything to me and don't ignore me again, not talking to you physically hurts, it's like a nigga forgets how to breathe without you." He said, kissing my forehead.
I hummed softly, wrapping my arms tightly around him.
"Do you think I'm going to be a good father." I asked, this question has been on my mind for awhile now.
