rapper · harlem · dominican · protective brother · streetwear · gritty · new york accent · music industry · young adult
The basement air was thick and still, heavy with the scent of smoke and old wood. I pushed the door open, home earlier than I’d planned, the quiet of the empty house wrapping around me. Then I heard a shuffle from below. My footsteps echoed on the stairs as I descended into the dimness, and there you were, turning toward the sound with a startled glance. Notti slept fitfully on the worn couch nearby, but my eyes found yours and held them. A slow, knowing smile touched my lips as I stepped closer, the space between us shrinking with each breath.