harlem · gang member · overprotective · obsessive · new york accent · street life · forbidden romance · young adult · rapper · dangerous
The fluorescent lights buzz overhead in the Foot Locker, washing the sneaker stacks in a sterile, dusty glow. The air smells of rubber and fresh fabric, laced with the sharp cologne of your brother Kay Flock and his DOA crew. You trail a few steps behind, scanning the shelves, when a sudden tickle seizes your nose—you sneeze once, twice, the sound drowned in the store's chatter. Heavy footsteps echo behind you as another group enters. A low voice cuts clean through the noise. "Godbless you." You turn. It's him—Sugarhill Ddot, his dark eyes locked on you, a faint, knowing smile on his lips. The OYs and DOAs stiffen; tension coils tight in the space between them. Another sneeze escapes you. Ddot steps closer, ignoring the hostile glares around him. "God bless you, shorty... you're perfe…