Malik “Mars” Holaway🔭

The hallway was chaos. Laughter echoing off the walls, people stepping over each other, someone blasting a speaker with distorted bass. The group had made it back from the bar in one piece—barely.

She wasn’t walking straight.

At all.

“Yo, somebody get her, she trippin’—” “She not even listening—” “Where’s Mars?”

Mars was leaning against the wall, hoodie half-zipped, face unreadable. He’d been watching it unfold, quiet and still, that vein in his jaw twitching. She was spinning in circles, laughing too loud, slipping out of people’s hands every time they tried to guide her.

“She not gon’ listen to nobody but Mars,” someone muttered.

He sighed through his nose, pushed off the wall, and walked straight toward her. No hesitation. Just calm, low energy.

“Come here,” he said, barely above a whisper.

She turned—and it was like a switch flipped. Her eyes softened. She stepped toward him, arms still out like she didn’t know what to do with them. Everyone else had been grabbing, pulling, tugging—but Mars? He just held her hand, fingers grazing the inside of her wrist.

“You’re doing too much, shorty,” he said, eyes narrowed but not unkind. “You tryna fall down stairs now?”

She giggled. “You sound mad.”

“I sound like the only one who can keep you from cracking your skull open. Come on.”

He didn’t yank. Just placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her through the hallway like a shadow. She melted under his touch, leaning into him like gravity didn’t exist anywhere else but between them.

Everyone watched in silence.

“She always listens to him,” someone whispered.

⸻

🛏️ Back at the Airbnb Bedroom...

The room was quiet. Moonlight slicing through the blinds. She stumbled as she kicked off her shoes, nearly falling backward until Mars caught her again—hands firm on her waist this time.

“You good?” he asked.

She blinked up at him, glassy-eyed and slow.

“You’re so warm,” she whispered, pressing her forehead into his chest.

Mars froze. He’d been trying to stay neutral, calm. But the way she clung to him—fingers curling into his hoodie like she didn’t want to let go—made something break loose in his chest.

“Lay down, ma,” he murmured, easing her toward the bed.

He pulled the blanket up over her hips, fingers brushing the edge of her waist. She grabbed his hand.

“Don’t go.”

“You need to sleep.”

“I wanna be with you.”

That made him stop.

She said it like it wasn’t the first time. Like she meant it. Like it had been sitting on her tongue for months.

Mars sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his hands over his face. His voice was quieter now. Throat tight.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

He turned toward her. She was staring up at him with that soft, drunk gaze—but it wasn’t playful anymore. It was real. Raw.

“You’re not gonna remember this in the morning,” he whispered, voice shaking with something too big for his chest.

“I will,” she said.

And just like that, he let himself break—just a little.

He leaned down, pressed his forehead to hers, breathing in the scent of her skin. She smelled like liquor and vanilla lotion and something else he never had the courage to name.

“You don’t even know what you’re asking for,” he murmured, lips brushing the shell of her ear.

“Then tell me.”

His hand moved—slow, steady—fingers tracing the line of her collarbone.

“You want me?” His voice dropped. “I’ll ruin you. Soft. Slow. Smart. I’ll learn your body like I read code. Like I write music. Like I build dreams in silence.”

She shivered.

“You don’t know what it’s like being touched by someone who sees everything. Who remembers everything.”

He kissed her shoulder. Light. Controlled.

“You think I haven’t noticed? How you look at me when you think I’m not watching? You think I don’t hear the way your breath catches when I call you ma?”

He pulled back, barely—eyes scanning hers, lips parted.

“I’ve been quiet about it ‘cause I was scared you didn’t want this. But right now? You’re laying here asking for me.”

A pause.

“So I’ma give you this. Just once. And if you wake up tomorrow and forget every word... just know I meant all of it.”

He leaned in, kissed her—deep, slow, hands still gentle, still careful. But everything about him was intentional. Controlled chaos.

His body covered hers slowly, warmth sinking into warmth. He never rushed. He whispered to her between kisses. Sensual truths.

“You feel too good.” “I dreamed about this.” “Nobody else gets this version of me.”

Hands everywhere. On her thighs. Her waist. Her face. Like he was studying her with touch.

“You gon’ remember me. Even if you forget tonight.”

And as she exhaled his name, again and again—his voice broke one last time.

“I’m yours.”

—- ☀️The Next Morning

The room was quiet when she woke.

Soft light poured through the blinds, casting stripes across the sheets tangled around her legs. The air smelled faintly of sandalwood, warm skin, and something sweeter—like vanilla and sweat. The kind of scent that clung to the body after hours of something unspoken. Something unforgettable.

Her eyes blinked open slowly. For a moment, she was still. Disoriented. Floating in that fragile space between sleep and memory. Her limbs ached in a way that wasn’t painful, just... heavy. Like she’d been held. Gripped.

She shifted—and flinched.

Her waist throbbed beneath the sheets. She reached down, tugging up the edge of the blanket. That’s when she saw it.

Bruises.

Dark, finger-shaped impressions curved into her sides—faint but deep, like someone had dug into her to keep her there. Like he couldn’t let her go, even if he tried. Her lips were swollen. Her throat painted in purples and reds.

Her breath caught.

She sat up, the fabric slipping down her body. Her chest was bare. Her throat, too—marked with hickeys so high they peeked over her collarbone. One was a bite mark . Another, lower, a distinct bite mark pressed into the inside of her shoulder.

Her heart thudded in her ears.

Her eyes scanned the space. The chair by the door. The shoes neatly placed by the closet. Then she saw it:

His hoodie—folded perfectly at the foot of the bed. Black, soft, with the faded white writing across the chest. His scent was all over it.

And resting on top... A sticky note.

Her hands trembled as she picked it up.

“If you remember anything... come find me. I’m not hiding anymore. — M”