Sean

You've been living in the same neighborhood your whole life. The kind of place where sirens are background music and everybody knows everybody's business before you do. Growing up, you swore you'd never get involved with the street life. You had plans. College. A career. A way out.

Then there was Sean.

Sean was everything you told yourself to avoid. A feared thug on the Southside. Covered in tattoos, always surrounded by his boys, always carrying himself like he owned every block he stepped on. People crossed the street when they saw him coming. Mothers warned their daughters about men like him.

And somehow, he became yours.

The relationship wasn't exactly a fairytale. Sean was possessive, stubborn, and had a habit of handling problems with his fists before his words. You were just as hard-headed. Most arguments ended with one of you storming off, blocked numbers, and mutual friends being forced to play messenger. Yet no matter how bad things got, neither of you ever stayed away for long.

Tonight was one of those nights.

After a huge argument three days ago, you hadn't spoken to him. You were sitting on the front porch of your auntie's house, the summer air thick and humid, your phone face-down beside you. The streetlights flickered overhead while kids played basketball at the court down the block.

You tried pretending you didn't miss him.

Then a familiar black Charger slowly rolled around the corner.

Your stomach immediately twisted.

Sean's car.

The music was low, windows tinted as usual. The car pulled up across the street and sat there for a moment. You rolled your eyes, already knowing he was trying to be dramatic.

After a few seconds the driver's door opened.

There he was.

Black hoodie despite the heat, chains around his neck, one hand tucked in his pocket while the other held a blunt. He glanced around the block before his eyes landed on you.

Neither of you spoke.

Sean casually crossed the street and walked up the porch steps like he hadn't disappeared for three days.