Imani glanced at the stack of papers in her hand and asked, "So... you're some kind of 𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙥𝙤𝙚𝙩?"
Amir let out a soft chuckle, twisting one of his dreads as he replied, "Weird way to put it, but shit, I guess."
♡
In a predominantly white n...
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AMIR walked into the apartment with a bouquet of pink and yellow flowers in hand, as quiet as a mouse, making sure his girlfriend wouldn't be alerted by his arrival.
He couldn't fight off the smile that spread across his face, he knew she didn't really like surprises, but he couldn't help it. It was something he loved doing, why? Nobody knows, not even himself.
As he nervously toyed with the small, velvet-colored box containing a white gold ring, his heart raced wildly within his chest. Mentally preparing himself to propose to his girlfriend.
They had only been dating for a year and a couple months, but he thought they were ready. They had already had conversations about marriage and how many kids they wanted, so he thought she was up for it.
He had a habit of getting attached too easily, which often made him vulnerable. This might have come from his rocky relationship with his mother, leaving him eager for a woman's love. Although he would never say this out loud, he knew it was true.
Him and his mother's relationship was very on and off. One day, they'll be the best of friends, then the next, she was blaming him for god knows what.
Majority of the time, he'd blame himself for the way their relationship took a turn. He was first introduced to the street life at the young age of nine. Obviously, he didn't do much at that age, but at the ripe age of twelve, he witnessed his first dead body, then at thirteen, he caught his first body.
It wasn't much of his fault, one of his "friends" that were a senior in high school at the time, handed him a loaded gun without the safety. Thinking the safety pin was still on, he grew curious and pulled the trigger, resulting in it hitting the man in front of him. From that night on, nothing was the same.
He went home crying to his mother about killing a man, he couldn't forgive himself for it, even to this day.
His mother never saw him the same after that day. She knew it wasn't much of his fault, but she warned him over and over again about the people he surrounded himself with, it grew tiring.
He didn't hang out with them because he enjoyed it, though. They helped him get money. Money that his family needed, especially his father. He was an alcoholic, meaning, there would never be a day they had money lying around since he'd blow it on some drinks.
He wasn't a bad father, though. He always took care of his kids at the end of the day. At least when he was sober.
But she was always there during these hardships. Lena, the girl he'd been trying to get at since he was fourteen years old. Then, at the age of seventeen, she finally gave him a chance.
At the moment, they were sharing the apartment he bought for himself with his street money. It was a big step for two eighteen year olds, but he'd take leaps over two high buildings for her.
