#joey michaels

[imanisays]

[sidwilson-myheart0]

Paullie ^^

[sodapop3921]

Sid 2005 with his skull mask and matching tear off face

[nerdloser]

made these based on a dumb little inside joke between my brother and i

[your-mommy-ems]

your book bf based on your month

oneself had legit nothing better to do with one's time so here we are 😭😭😭 (this is everyone i wanted to fit in last time but couldn't)

[jazziejax]

𝐈𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭?

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Kadeem ‘Unique’ Mathis x Black!OC

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - Not one sort of relationship was perfect. Couples fought, friends argued, and it sometimes got physical in two different sort of ways…but whatever the relationship was between Unique and Mo’nique was far more complex considering they weren’t friends, far from a couple and she technically was taking care of him free of charge. But is that really it?

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - cursing, mental episodes, nudity, injuries, and that all I can think of rn…let me know if I missed anything please!

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - I know it’s been a minute but this last semester is no. joke. I have been getting my ass lived with this classes and exams, but it’s all working out because ya sista is passing!!! I know yall want an update with everything else I have sitting around, AND ITS ALL COMING SOON!!! Just give me till May for consistency, I beg!!!! Also, I’ve been thinking about writing something for Kelvin’s character ‘Euri’ in O’Dessa…let me know if yall want that because I love a lil fruity man that gets freaky. I watched challengers!

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 16,542+

Unique was already awake.

Had been for the past few minutes, caught somewhere between sleep and something else entirely. His eyes were half-lidded, his head tilted just enough to catch the way the morning light cast a soft glow over her features.

Mo’nique was still asleep, completely unaware of the way she had curled into him sometime during the night. Of the way, her fingers had brushed against his ribs, light and unconscious, before settling again. Of the way her breath, warm and even, ghosted against his shirt.

He had woken up expecting pain, the same dull, throbbing ache that had been his companion since that night. But this? This was different. His body still hurt only a bit, but his mind… his mind was quiet. For the first time in longer than he cared to admit, the weight pressing on his chest wasn’t unbearable.

He wasn’t thinking about revenge. Wasn’t thinking about Ronnie.

He was just here in the present. Something he hasn’t been able to do in a long, long time. And he wasn’t quite sure what to do with that.

His arm shifted slightly, fingers flexing like he wanted to move, to break whatever the hell this was before she woke up and made it something more real than it had to be. But something in him stopped. Something deep in his chest, something that he hadn’t let himself feel in a long time.

He let out a slow breath, eyes flickering to the clock.

Mo’nique would wake up soon. And then what? She’d pull away. Crack a joke. Or would she say nothing at all and act like none of this ever happened? And maybe that was for the best.

Still, when she stirred, a quiet hum slipping from her lips as she nestled just a little closer, Unique found himself hesitating. Because for the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t want to let go.

But whatever he was feeling was soon to be over.

The first thing Mo’nique felt was warmth. Not the kind that came from blankets or the sluggish heat of a room in the morning, but something solid. Her mind was slow to wake, drifting somewhere between sleep and consciousness, clinging to the last remnants of rest. She felt the steady rise and fall beneath her, the slow, rhythmic movement of breath. Her fingers twitched, grazing soft fabric, and that was when it hit her.

She wasn’t alone.

Her eyes fluttered open, hazy with sleep, and the first thing she saw was black fabric stretched over firm muscle. It took her a second to register what—who—she was lying on. But once it did, awareness shot through her like a live wire.

Unique.

She was still pressed against him.

Her body tensed, her breath catching in her throat as reality settled over her like a heavyweight. Sometime in the night, she had moved closer. Or maybe he had? Either way, she was tucked against him, her cheek resting against his chest, his scent lingering on the fabric of the shirt she’d given him.

And worse? His arm—his damn arm—was close. Close enough that it might as well have been wrapped around her.

She should move. She should definitely move.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she lay there, her mind scrambling for an explanation, an excuse—anything—to make sense of how the hell she had ended up like this. She didn’t sleep like this, this well. Not with other people, even back when she had the chance to. She would always wake up in the middle of the night, sometimes multiple times.

But… she had slept this time. And she had slept well.

That realization made her stomach twist a bit.

Slowly, carefully, she tilted her head back, just enough to get a glimpse of Unique’s face. His eyes were still shut, his breathing slow, his other hand placed on his chest that rose and fell with every breath. Her pulse seemed to kick up, heat creeping up her neck as she looked at his resting face.

If I moved now, maybe I could act like this never happened, she thought. Maybe he’d keep his eyes closed and let her slip away without a word. So

Mo’nique sucked in a slow breath, forcing her body to move. Carefully, she peeled herself away from Unique’s warmth, taking extra care not to jostle him too much. The last thing she needed was to lock eyes with him after waking up damn near wrapped around each other.

The air outside the blankets was colder than she expected, making her skin prickle as she sat up, trying to fight back a violent shiver. She rubbed a hand over her face, still groggy but determined to shake it off. Her stomach gave a low, impatient growl, reminding her exactly what she needed to do next.

Breakfast.

She glanced over her shoulder. Unique was still lying there, eyes closed, but she wasn’t sure if he was fully asleep or if he was just pretending. Either way, she wasn’t about to stick around to find out. Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she padded out of the room and towards the kitchen, scratching at her shirt curls through her scarf as she went. The apartment was quiet, save for the soft hum of the fridge when she opened it.

As Mo’nique moved through the kitchen, focusing on getting breakfast together, she tried—tried—to push down the thoughts that had been lingering in the back of her mind ever since she woke up tangled against Unique.

Because what the hell was that?

She could still feel the warmth of his body against hers, the way her face had been pressed into his side like she belonged there. And worse? She had let herself stay. Just for a little while. Long enough to soak in the comfort, to let herself feel…the security it brought her.

That was the part that messed with her the most. It felt safe…and comfortable.

She hadn’t felt that way in a long time—not in a bed, not in the presence of a man, not in any situation where her guard was down and she was in one of her most vulnerable positions. But lying against him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest, the weight of his arm resting close, it had been so damn easy to just… let it happen.

She stirred the waffle batter a little too aggressively, jaw clenching as she forced herself to focus. It didn’t mean anything, she thought. They were just tired. It was cold. She had gotten comfortable—that was all.

But that tiny, treacherous part of her whispered back, Then why did you hesitate to get up?

She shook her head and reached for the waffle iron, pouring in the batter. Doesn’t matter. She had bigger things to worry about than how good it had felt to sleep beside Unique.

Instead, she put her energy into breakfast, pouring herself into the simple, steady motions of cooking. Eggs, bacon, waffles. Things she could control. Because whatever that was between them moments ago? That was something she absolutely could not.

And Unique was having a similar conversation with himself about it all in her bedroom. The moment Mo’nique stepped out of the room, Unique let out a slow exhale, a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, cracking his eyes open fully. He had been awake for a little while now, but he wasn’t in any rush to move. His body still felt like it had been through the wringer—because it had—and the comfort of the bed, the lingering warmth where Mo’nique had been, was too good to shake off just yet.

From the other room, he could hear the faint sounds of cooking—bacon sizzling, the rhythmic scrape of a whisk against a bowl. The smell of it drifted into the room, rich and warm, making his stomach stir with hunger.

He lay there, one arm draped over his forehead, letting himself soak in the rare feeling of not being in a rush to move, of not having to constantly be on guard. But moments later, when he heard the soft padding of her footsteps approaching again, he cracked his eyes open in time to see Mo’nique stepping back into the room, eyeing him with that sharp, assessing look of hers.

“You gotta use the bathroom?” She asked, arms crossing as she leaned against the door banister.

Unique gave a slow shake of his head, his gaze lingering on her a little longer than necessary. She was still in the clothes she slept in, her hair slightly tousled from sleep, but she looked… at ease.

She caught that look in his eye, paused for a beat, then just nodded before asking, “You hungry?”

This time, he nodded.

Another small nod from her, this one tighter, before she pursed her lips and turned to head back to the kitchen. Unique huffed out a quiet breath, watching her go. He still didn’t say much, letting the silence settle between them as she moved around the kitchen. But when she finally returned, balancing a plate in one hand, he let a smirk pull at the corner of his mouth.

“Ain’t this some shit? You buttering me up now?”

Mo’nique gave him a flat look before shoving the plate toward him.

“Nigga, shut up and eat.” She said before walking back out and gathering her food. She came back with a plate and sat herself back in the chair from last night. She didn’t even look his way as she cooked, the television on in her room and began eating.

They ate in silence for a while, the only sounds coming from the soft hum of the television and the quiet clink of utensils against their plates. The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air played on the screen, Will cracking jokes as the laugh track echoed through the room.

Mo’nique sat cross-legged in the chair, her plate balanced in her lap, stealing glances at Unique between bites. He was leaned back against the headboard, eating slowly, clearly enjoying the meal more than he let on.

After a few moments, she spoke, her voice casual but pointed. “You know, I don’t usually allow eating in my room.”

A slow smirk made its way onto Unique’s, barely glancing up from his plate as he took another bite of waffle. “That so?” He hummed.

“Mmhm.” She speared a piece of bacon with her fork, chewing thoughtfully. “Only reason I let it slide this time is ‘cause you half-dead.” She said.

Unique let out a low and breathy chuckle since it hurt to laugh, shaking his head. “Damn. A nigga sorta on his deathbed, and you still got rules.”

“Damn right.” She shot him a look, but there was no real heat behind it. If anything, the corners of her lips twitched like she was holding back a smile, her brows raised a bit as she stared at him. Unique just hummed, taking another bite before glancing at her again. “So what, I’m supposed to be honored or some shit?” He asked with a small shrug.

Mo’nique rolled her eyes, finally giving in to the small smirk tugging at her lips. “Nah. Just don’t get used to it.”

Unique licked his lips, watching her for a moment longer before turning his attention back to the TV. He then hummed with a nod, acknowledging her suggestion.

They sat there and fished their food, Mo’nique taking their plates into the kitchen and placing them into the sink. She let out a sigh as she moved back to the room. She leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, her gaze steady as she took in the man sprawled out on her bed. Unique had settled back against the pillows, one arm draped lazily over his torso, looking more at ease than he had any right to be. His eyes drifted over to when she lingered.

“What?” He asked, his voice low and scratchy, eyes flicking over to meet hers.

She tilted her head slightly, pressing her lips together before speaking. “You know, you’ve been here two, three days now.”

He blinked. “Yeah?” He shifted slightly, wincing at the soreness still settled deep in his muscles. He wasn’t sure where she was going with this, but the idea of her kicking him out did quickly cross his mind. And he hated how his heart damn near dropped at the thought. A sliver of something unsettling—something like hopelessness—crept in before he could shove it away.

Mo’nique sighed, her fingers tightening against her arms as she exhaled through her nose. “It’s time to take a bath, Nique.”

And that—that—he didn’t know how to react to.

For a moment, he just stared at her, processing. Of all the things she could’ve said, that wasn’t even on his radar. His lips parted slightly, brows furrowing as if he had misheard her. “What?” He questioned, making sure he heard her correctly.

She gave him a pointed look. “You need to clean up. I know you hurt, but you not that hurt. Paralyzed people take baths.”

Unique blinked, then scoffed, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips as he propped himself up on an elbow. “So you tryna say I stink?” He questioned.

Mo’nique rolled her eyes. “I’m saying you've been in about two different spots, same sort of clothes, for damn near three days. So yeah, it’s time.”

Unique let his head fall back against the pillows, exhaling through his nose. “Man…”

“No man.” She cut in, pushing off the doorway. “You gon’ get up, and I’ll help you if you need it, but I ain’t lettin’ you just lay here and rot.”

He eyed her carefully, the teasing glint in his eyes dimming just a little. There was something else in her tone, something that made his chest feel tight. She wasn’t saying this to mess with him—she was saying it because she gave a damn. She cared. And that… well, that did little something to him in his chest.

After a long pause, he finally sighed. “Aight, fine.”

Mo’nique raised an eyebrow. “Fine?”

“Yeah, fine.” He muttered, reluctantly and stiffly swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Damn. You real bossy, you know that?” He chucked out, feeling the aching pain he had in his sides.

Mo’nique smirked. “And you real hard-headed. Now come on.” She said, McIntosh over to him. Unique shook his head, but he didn’t argue. Didn’t push back.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Mo’nique hadn’t really thought this through past the point of telling Unique to get up.

Because now, standing in the small, slightly humid bathroom, she realized how… intimate this was about to be. And when she turned to look at Unique, sitting on the closed toilet lid, watching her with that lazy, unreadable expression, she could tell he was thinking the same thing.

“You just gon’ stand there all day, or you actually gon’ help?” His voice was teasing, but there was an edge to it, like he wasn’t entirely sure how to navigate this either.

She exhaled through her nose and ignored the way heat crept up the back of her neck. “Shut up.” She mumbled. He huffed out a quiet laugh but didn’t say anything else as she turned the faucet, letting the tub fill. The water ran hot, steam curling into the air, and she poured in a little body wash, watching the bubbles rise.

“You got a preference?” She asked, nodding toward the shelf of soaps and shampoos she had on a metal rack in the shower.

Unique pursed her lips, cocking his head at her. “I look like I got a preference?” He asked, furrowing his brows at her.

Mo’nique rolled her eyes at his sassy attitude and grabbed what she usually used, setting everything within reach before turning back to him. The playful glint in his eye had dulled a little, his jaw set as he stared at the water. He looked tense, and for a second, she wondered if he was actually uncomfortable with all this. “Hey.” Her voice was quieter now. Softer. “You good?” She asked.

Unique blinked, snapping out of whatever thought had momentarily taken him. His eyes flickered to hers, and then he nodded, though the motion was slow. “Yeah.” He murmured, then cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Mo’nique wasn’t sure she fully believed him, but she didn’t push. Instead, she moved to help him undress, starting with his shirt. She hesitated for only a second before carefully peeling the fabric away from his body. He winced, sucking in a sharp breath as the movement aggravated his bruises, and Mo’nique bit the inside of her cheek, trying not to react to just how bad they still looked. Dark patches covered his ribs, his stomach, his arms—evidence of everything he had been through before he ended up here.

“Sorry,” She murmured, fingers barely brushing against his skin as she pulled the shirt off completely.

He shook his head. “It ain’t your fault, you’re cool.”

She nodded, then crouched to pull off his socks before moving to his sweats. He didn’t say anything as she slid them down his legs, didn’t make a single smart remark, which only made her more aware of the shift in the air between them. She didn’t even offer an inappropriate glance at his junk. Once he was undressed, Mo’nique reached for his arm. “Come on.”

He moved stiffly, but with her help, he stepped into the tub, the woman helping him lower himself carefully into the water with a quiet grunt. The heat must’ve soothed him at least a little because she saw his shoulders relax, his head tipping back against the edge of the tub as he let out a long breath.

“Good?”She asked, sitting on the closed toilet lid.

“Mmhmm,” He hummed, eyes half-lidded, the tension in his face slowly easing. She nodded at that, letting out a subtle him with her eyes still locked on his resting form. She let him soak for a moment before wetting a washcloth and lathering it with soap. “Alright, lean up.” She said

He cracked one eye open. “You gon’ wash me too?” He asked, and even though he was sort of guarded when it came to the thought, the idea of it did make him want to smirk a little. Maybe under completely different circumstances.

Mo’nique gave him a dry look. “You want me to?” She asked, quirking a brow at him.

Something flickered in his gaze at that, something unreadable, but after a beat, he simply leaned forward. She blinked at him before she began working methodically, her hands gentle but firm as she ran the cloth over his back, across his shoulders, and down his arms. She was careful around his ribs, making sure not to press too hard, but even still, she could feel the way his body tensed beneath her touch.

“Relax.” She murmured.

Unique let out a quiet but tense chuckle, shaking his head. “Ain’t used to this, that’s all.” He said, trying to ease the uncomfortableness he felt. Mo’nique didn’t say anything to that, just kept going, moving to his chest. When her fingers brushed against a particularly dark bruise, she hesitated. She didn’t want to press down too hard, but the dark spot against his deep skin didn’t look too good. At her pause, Unique looked at her. “You gon’ ask?” He muttered, before closing his eyes once again.

Mo’nique’s lips pressed together. She knew what he meant. “Do you want me to?” She questioned as she continued.

He was quiet for a moment. Then, he shook his head. “Nah.”

She nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. She ran the cloth down his stomach, over the planes of his torso, then dipped it into the water to rinse before handing it to him.

“You got the rest?” She asked softly, and she was hoping he would say yes because even though she was a professional at this, she didn’t know if she could handle all that just yet. Especially since she was still struggling with trying to surpass the thoughts from this morning.

Unique took the cloth, his fingers brushing against hers briefly. “Yeah.” He muttered.

Mo’nique stood, grabbing a large towel from the shelf and setting it on the counter. “I’ll be in the room if you need help getting out.” She said before turning to leave the room. Unique tilted his head slightly, looking up at her with something almost unreadable in his expression.

“Mo’nique.” He called just as she was stepping out.

She turned back to him “Yeah?”He held her gaze for a second before blinking and shaking his head, smirking faintly. “Nothin’. Just… thanks.”

Mo’nique didn’t know what to say to that, so she just nodded and slipped out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her. And Unique watched the door for a long time after she left. His body was still tense, despite the warmth of the water. Despite the way, his muscles should’ve been relaxing. Though he thought he felt a noticeable decline in temperature when she left the room.

He leaned his head back against the edge of the tub, closing his eyes as he thought. Mo’nique wasn’t like the women he usually dealt with. She wasn’t falling over herself, eager to do things for him, but she also wasn’t that distant. She knew when to press and when to leave things alone. She told just enough to make him feel comfortable. She knew when to hold his gaze and when to look away.

And the way she had touched him… carefully, deliberately, without a trace of pity as she washed away more than just the grime. That shit messed with him. Because he knew what pity looked like. He had seen it in the eyes of plenty of people before. It had been years since he felt it in the way people used to handle him when Ronnie was still around like he was something fragile. He hated that shit.

But Mo’nique? She didn’t look at him like that. She didn’t treat him like something broken, even though this was all she knew. The beaten version of himself.

And maybe that’s why, for the first time in a long time, he actually felt something settle inside him. Something he didn’t quite have a name for yet.

He ran a wet hand down his face, shaking his head.

He needed to get a grip.

Because whatever this was, whatever she was doing to him— He wasn’t sure if he was ready for it.

Mo’nique was facing a similar internal conflict. She had closed the door behind her and exhaled, her back pressing against the wood as she stared at the floor. She hadn’t realized how much she had been holding her breath until now.

Her hands twitched at her sides, still warm from the hot water and touching him. From washing over his skin and feeling the tension coiled in his muscles. It was one thing to know he was hurt, to see the bruises peeking from beneath his clothes. But touching them? Feeling the dips and ridges of his pain? That was different. And it didn’t help that the attractive man had the body to match.

She ran a hand down her face, pushing away the thoughts that tried to creep in—the ones that told her that she shouldn’t care and that she had no business feeling anything about this man the way she did.

This morning, she had damn near woken up in his arms but wanted to fight him only yesterday. Hell, she had fought him. And now she was in there… washing his back, checking on him, feeling something she didn’t even want to name.

She couldn’t help but think of the way his body had been tense at first, but how it had relaxed once he settled into the tub. The way he hadn’t protested when she touched him, even though she knew he must’ve been uncomfortable from the bruises. His quiet moments. The strange, almost vulnerable look in his eyes when he thanked her.

Her body still felt warm from the proximity, from the way his eyes had lingered on her before she left. He had almost said something—she could feel it in the pause before he shook his head and that smirk slid into place like a shield. Mo’nique swallowed, taking another deep breath.

She wasn’t stupid. Unique was charming. He knew how to reel people in, how to make them feel special, even when they weren’t supposed to be. And yet…

She suddenly pushed off the door, shaking her head at herself as she moved toward the bed in the room. She wasn’t doing this. She wasn’t going to sit here and overanalyze something that wasn’t supposed to mean anything.

Because that’s all it was, right? It wasn’t supposed to mean anything….So why did it feel like it did?

Mo’nique just sat in the bed, arms crossed, as she listened to the sounds of the water splashing softly in the bathroom. Her mind buzzed with the strange shift she felt between herself and Unique, but she tried not to overthink it.

Helping Unique bathe hadn’t been as strange as she thought it might be, but now, the silence felt different. He was in there, and she was out here, and somehow the line between her role as someone helping him and something else was starting to blur. She couldn’t shake the feeling that things were shifting between them, and that shift made her heart beat just a little faster. The warmth of the moment was still lingering in the air, but it was a strange kind of warmth—one that didn’t just come from the hot water.

Her fingers tapped lightly on her arm, her thoughts drifting in and out of focus on the television screen. She didn’t mind helping him, but something about the whole situation now felt different. Everything had been different since yesterday and this morning didn’t make it any better. The tension between them had been building ever since he showed up at her place, and now it was hard to ignore.

This is all my fault, she thought.

The sound of the water finally stopped, and the silence hung thick in the air. She hesitated for a moment before pushing herself up from the bed and walking toward the bathroom. She knocked softly this time, hearing a muffled sound before she opened the door slowly, her eyes landing on him in the tub.

He was sitting there, leaning back, his eyes closed for a second before they fluttered open when he sensed her presence. Mo’nique could see him trying to steady himself, but he was visibly sore. His muscles were tense, his body battered from the bruises and the trauma, but he wasn’t about to show weakness.

“Need a hand getting out?” Mo’nique asked, her voice steady but not unkind. There was no hesitation in her movement as she took a step into the bathroom, her hands resting on her hips.

Unique’s eyes flicked up to hers, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I got it, Mo’nique. I ain’t that helpless.”

She didn’t reply right away. Instead, she watched him for a moment, trying to gauge if he could manage on his own. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel like a burden, but at the same time, she didn’t want him pushing himself too hard.

The silence stretched between them before she finally sighed, her voice a little softer. “No, you don’t. I can see that. You’re hurting, Nique.”

He scowled, but she didn’t back down. “Fine.” He muttered, his smirk turning into something more resigned. He looked down at the water, clearly not thrilled about being helped. “Just make it quick.”

Mo’nique moved in close without hesitation. She reached for the towel she had already set out for him, draping it over her shoulder before offering her hand to him. He met her gaze again, this time with something unreadable in his eyes, but he accepted her help.

She bent slightly to grab his arm and carefully assisted him as he stood up. His body was heavy with exhaustion and pain, and she could feel his muscles strain under her touch. She kept a firm grip on him, helping him steady himself, and though he didn’t complain, she could tell he appreciated the support.

When he finally stood, she handed him the towel, the rough fabric brushing against his skin. He wrapped it around his waist, but his eyes never left her. She couldn’t quite read him, but there was something about the way he looked at her that made her heart skip a beat.

“You good?” She asked, more out of instinct than anything, watching him carefully.

He nodded, though his eyes were still slightly clouded with the discomfort he was feeling. “Yeah. Just… a little sore. I’ll be fine.”

She nodded in return. “I know you will be.” She said, her voice softer now. “But you don’t have to do it all alone, Nique. You’ve got me.” She said, looking up at him. She then blinked once she heard what her words sounded like. “I mean, that’s what you’re here for. It’s my job.” She shrugged to let off some of the nerves she was feeling. Unique was quiet for a long moment, his gaze locked with hers. “Yeah.” He finally murmured, his voice lower than usual. “Guess I do.” She nodded.

Mo’nique then helped him slowly walk toward the bedroom, careful not to jostle him too much. He wasn’t exactly in the best shape, but she could see the effort he was putting in. She guided him over to the bed, letting him sit down as he exhaled a long, tired breath.

She took in a slow breath as she looked at him, sitting there on the edge of the bed, towel wrapped loosely around his waist. His skin was still damp, his body tense even though exhaustion weighed heavily in his posture. She could feel the heat radiating off him, the scent of soap and warm water lingering in the air between them. She then swallowed, glancing over at the clothes she had laid out for him. “Alright.” She said, forcing some distance between them now. Mo’nique grabbed the hoodie from the chair and stepped in front of him. Unique watched her without a word, his gaze steady, unreadable. He sat on the edge of the bed, legs spread, hands resting on his thighs. He didn’t move, didn’t speak—just watched her.

She didn’t let herself hesitate. “Arms.” She said, holding the hoodie open.

He lifted them, letting her guide the blue fabric over his head. Her fingers brushed against his neck as she pulled it down, the heat of his skin lingering even after she let go. He adjusted the sleeves, rolling his shoulders slightly, but his eyes never left her.

She reached for the sweatpants next, kneeling to slide them up his legs. He lifted his hips just enough for her to pull them and the underwear into place. The air between them was heavy, thick with something neither of them named.

Once he was dressed, she grabbed the first-aid kit from the nightstand and sat beside him. The cut on his face had dried, but it still looked raw. She ripped open an alcohol pad, fanning it out before reaching up to touch his jaw. He didn’t flinch, but his body went still.

“This might sting.” She murmured.

A slow exhale left his nose. “Go ahead.”

She dabbed at the wound, careful but firm. His jaw tensed beneath her fingers. He was close—close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath, see the way his lashes flickered as she worked.

“You should be more careful.” She said quietly, pressing the cloth against his skin.

He huffed out something like a laugh. “Shit happens.” He hissed out through the stinging.

She didn’t respond, just kept cleaning the wound, her touch lingering longer than it needed to. The silence stretched between them, thick and charged.

After a moment, he spoke again. “You take care of people like this before?” He suddenly asked, his eyes locked on her brown ones that were focused on his scar. She paused at that, meeting his gaze. “No.” She said firmly. And his eyes darkened, something unreadable passing through them. But he didn’t push.

She finished by applying the ointment, her fingers featherlight against his skin. When she pulled back, her touch lingered for just a second longer than necessary.

“You done?” He asked, his voice low.

Mo’nique let out a slow breath, standing up. “For now.” She said. And with that, Mo’nique felt the tension shift again, heavier now. She didn’t know what the hell was going on between them, but she knew one thing for sure—it wasn’t going to be easy figuring it out. Now, it was time for her. She found herself standing in the bathroom, glancing at the mirror as she caught sight of herself, still a little damp from the close contact with Unique. The morning had already been a strange mix of routine and something… unexpected. She had taken care of him, helped him out of the tub, and made him breakfast—things she didn’t usually do for anyone, and yet it had felt natural.

The bathroom seemed colder somehow, the steam of the previous bath water barely escaping from the shower. She stared at the closed curtain, the sense of quiet anticipation building. Mo’nique wasn’t used to being the one who needed help, but today, with everything that had happened, she could feel the tension and exhaustion settling in her body. It had been a while since she’d felt so off balance.

She slipped off her clothes before moving to turn the shower on. She adjusted the temperature to something comfortably warm, then let the water stream down. As the water started to fill the air with a soft mist, she stepped in, closing the curtain behind her. She let out a long, slow breath, allowing herself to relax as the warmth enveloped her.

She closed her eyes, her mind wandering for a moment, her wet fingers running over her face. The scent of her body wash—vanilla, light and calming—mixed with the steam, and for a while, she let herself forget about everything. The world outside the bathroom, the responsibilities of the day, and the weight of whatever lingering thoughts she began to feel between her and Unique—they all felt distant as the water washed over her skin.

But soon enough, she felt the creeping need to hurry. She didn’t want to linger too long in here. She scrubbed her skin, each movement methodical, allowing the steam to lift the tension from her muscles. Part of her was still trying to figure out why she was doing all of this. Unique didn’t ask for her help; she had just given it, almost instinctively, after seeing the star of his injuries when her cousin dropped him off. But that couldn’t have been all that it was. She always told Earl off for his stupid and scamming ways while now she was doing free labor for a fully grown stranger.

Maybe it was just him… or maybe it was the way he seemed so comfortable and had gotten under her skin without even trying.

Mo’nique finished up her shower quickly, not wanting to overthink it. She turned the water off and stepped out, grabbing the towel she had left within easy reach. As she dried off, she glanced at her reflection in the fogged-up mirror. For a moment, her thoughts paused. She looked…not tried? And that was new for her. Her light eye bags were still but she had a fair glow to her skin that wasn’t usually there.

She wrapped the towel around her body and opened the bathroom door. As she stepped back into her bedroom, she saw Unique lying on her bed, looking at the ceiling with his hands behind his head, lost in thought. The soft hum of the television show playing in the background gave the room a quiet, almost domestic feel.

Mo’nique couldn’t help but feel a brief moment of uncertainty, but she brushed it off. As Monique stepped into the room, the only thing covering her was a towel wrapped snugly around her body, damp from her shower. The scent of her vanilla and coconut-scented body wash lingered in the air as steam followed her in. Unique, who had been casually lounging on the bed, glanced up—and immediately froze.

His eyes flickered over her, taking in the sight before him, his usual confident demeanor momentarily faltering. He hadn’t expected her to walk in like that, not without warning. His lips parted slightly as if he was about to say something, but he didn’t. Instead, he dragged his tongue across his teeth, letting his gaze linger for a moment longer than necessary before looking away, masking whatever thoughts ran through his head.

Monique, completely unfazed or perhaps just pretending not to notice, walked past him toward the dresser, grabbing a bottle of lotion. She poured some into her palm, rubbing it into the exposed skin of her arms and chest, her movements slow and deliberate—but not intentionally seductive. It was just the way she moved, effortlessly drawing attention without trying.

Unique shifted in his seat, exhaling through his nose as he shook his head slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Damn.” He muttered under his breath, more to himself than to her.

Monique glanced over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “What?” She asked, quirking a brow at him.

Unique then leaned up, resting on his elbows. “Nothin’.” His voice was casual, but there was something else underneath it—something unspoken as his eyes quickly took in her figure before moving elsewhere.

She held his gaze for a second before turning back to what she was doing, acting as if the weight of his stare wasn’t still pressing against her. She didn’t respond, just shook her head before she reached for the clothes she had set on top of the dresser earlier. The towel remained wrapped securely around her, but the way she moved—unbothered, completely at ease in his presence—made Unique’s jaw tighten just a little.

She gathered her things—a cut-off crew neck and a pair of fitted leggings—before heading back toward the bathroom. Unique’s eyes followed her, but he didn’t say a word. He just let his gaze linger, dragging over her bare shoulders, down to the curve of her thighs before she disappeared behind the door.

Once she was out of sight, he exhaled sharply, shaking his head to himself. She knew exactly what she was doing, whether she wanted to admit it or not. She had to! He thought.

A few minutes passed before Monique emerged again, this time fully dressed, her sweater hanging off one of her shoulders to show her bra strap while her black tights hugged her thick thighs and her cute curls were out. She padded barefoot across the room, the smell of cocoa butter clinging to her skin.

Unique was still in the same spot, this time leaning back on the bed with one arm propped behind his head. He looked her up and down, slower this time as if assessing something. “I appreciate it,” He suddenly spoke up quietly, his voice uncharacteristically soft. Mo’njque turned to him at the sound of his voice. “I know I ain’t made it easy these past couple days.” He mumbled.

She didn’t know how to respond to that. The words sat on her tongue as she blinked, but none of them felt right. Instead, she just nodded, the movement stiff, and smiled faintly. “Just don’t make me regret it.” She quipped anything to make him feel less like shit.

He grinned at that, a flash of that cocky smirk she had become familiar with making its way across his lips. “Nah, I won’t. But don’t think I’m gonna start letting you play nurse every time something goes wrong, though.”

Mo’nique rolled her eyes. “I don’t need you to tell me what to do. I’m the nurse here, Unique.” She sassed, tilting her head at him as she looked him in the eye.

But there was something in the way he looked at her now—something different than before. Less guarded, but still cautious. For the first time in days, it felt like they were both trying to figure out the space they occupied in each other’s lives.

“Alright, whatever,” Unique said, lying against the bed, looking out the window above the headboard. Mo’nique stayed where she was, leaning back against her dresser, watching as he got caught in her own thoughts as the sun shined down on him. Neither of them spoke again until he seemed to snap out of it, letting out a small sigh, and when he finally turned to face her, something about the air between them felt different.

Not better, not worse. Just… different.

“So.” He said, shoving his hands in his pockets.” What now? You got plans today?”

Mo’nique glanced at the clock, realizing it was almost past noon. “Actually.” She said slowly, rising from the dresser, “It’s my off day. It’s why I slept in so late.“ she shrugged. She then eased her way over to the door, her arms crossed. “And I’m glad you asked because now it’s time to move. Come on, we’re going to the living room.” She said, her voice calm but firm.

Unique didn’t immediately budge. He sat there for a few seconds, the bed creaking under his weight, as he looked at her like she had just asked him to run a marathon. There was reluctance in his eyes, his muscles still sore from the last couple of days of recovery. Finally, with a deep sigh, he slowly pushed himself up to sit at the edge of the bed.

Mo’nique watched him for a moment, her patience wearing thin. When he didn’t make any further effort, she cocked an eyebrow and glanced at him. “Come on.” She urged, jerking her head towards the open door, her arms outstretched as if beckoning him like a baby.

He stared at her, a mix of disbelief and exhaustion in his gaze. “What? You’re not gonna help?” He asked, his tone a little dry.

“No.” She replied flatly, her voice matching the playful annoyance she always managed to carry so easily.

Unique let out a frustrated grunt, his hand gripping the edge of the bed as if it were the only thing keeping him steady. “First you don’t want me moving on my own and now you’re forcing me? What’s wrong with you, B?” He asked, scrunching his face up at her.

Mo’nique gave him an amused look as she looked down at him. “You gotta take it one step at a time, B.” She said, not even trying to hide how his annoyance was making her grin as she relayed his slang. “Baby steps.” She teased. “It’s called rehab, man. I know you’ve heard of it. Now ease up and walk from the bed to the door.” She motioned toward the door as if it were some grand distance to cross.

The corner of Unique’s mouth twitched, a reluctant grin playing at the edge of his lips, even as he felt the ache in his limbs and irritation gnawing at his brain. Slowly, carefully, he pushed himself to his feet. He was still a little stiff, and still sore, but there was no denying the way her eyes were on him, making him feel like he had no choice but to comply.

With a grunt, he took a slow, measured step toward the door. Each movement was labored, his body protesting, but there was something about her unspoken challenge that kept him moving. The whole process felt ridiculous, but at the same time, he couldn’t help the way a small sense of accomplishment settled in when he finally stood at the doorframe, looking down at Mo’nique, who hadn’t moved from her spot.

She gave him a nod of approval. “See? Told you. One step at a time.” She smiled up at him. Unique rolled his eyes, trying to hide the slight pride he felt in the accomplishment. “Yeah, whatever man.“

“Now, let’s get you to the living room.” She added with a grin as if the hardest part was already over. With a sly look, she nudged her chin toward the couch outside. “Come on, I’ll even let you have the remote.”

“Damn.” He muttered, more to himself than to her, but she was already walking toward the living room. A small smile tugged at his lips as he moved, and though he was still sore, there was something oddly comforting about the way she was guiding him—slowly but surely—into a rhythm.

As they reached the living room, Mo’nique helped him down before he moved to flick open the curtains, allowing the sunlight to spill into the space and fill the room with warmth. “It’s good for healing.” She said as she settled onto the couch, smoothing out a blanket and pulling it over her lap. She looked over at him expectantly, as if waiting for him to say something.

He simply slouched into the couch with a sigh before reaching for the remote. It felt strange, this new pace of life they were setting, but with her help, he was starting to feel a little more human again.

Mo’nique, with her usual ease, grabbed a Hulk Marvel comic from a stack under the first layer of the glass coffee table and flipped it open, her attention quickly shifting to the colorful pages. For a while, the two sat in comfortable silence, the sound of the television humming in the background as the weight of the world seemed just a little lighter at this moment.

Unique, however, lazily flipped through channels without much intention. Mo’nique glanced up from her comic, her attention divided. She knew he was trying to find something decent to watch, but he seemed more interested in aimless channel surfing than anything else.

A few minutes passed, and then, as if by some cosmic alignment, he stopped flipping and landed on a familiar tune. The theme song of The Nanny filled the air—bouncy and cheerful, its catchy beat making Mo’nique’s ears perk up. She let out a small gasp of excitement, her eyes lighting up as she glanced up at the screen.

“No way!” She grinned, sitting up a little straighter, completely abandoning her comic. “I love this show!”

Without thinking, she began humming along to the theme song, her voice matching the rhythm. Unique shot her a side-eye, taken aback by her uncharacteristically cheerful mood. His expression was unreadable, a mix of indifference and curiosity. “Really?” He muttered, clearly unimpressed by the sudden burst of enthusiasm.

But Mo’nique couldn’t help herself. The Nanny was one of those shows that always lifted her spirits. The way Fran Drescher’s voice bounced off the walls, the ridiculous antics of the characters—it was her kind of comfort TV. Not as good as Living Single, but it was nice. She mainly liked how Fran dressed.

And for all his cool-guy front, Unique was soon getting pulled into the magic of the show. He was trying not to look too interested, sitting back with his arms folded, but it was obvious that his eyes were glued to the screen. He couldn’t help it. The wit of the characters, the pure absurdity of the plotlines, it all tugged at him in ways he wasn’t expecting. His initial indifference started to crumble.

Mo’nique noticed it, though she didn’t acknowledge it right away. She just let herself enjoy the show, occasionally humming along or making little comments about the plot as she sipped her coffee.

Unique cleared his throat, shifting in his seat, still trying to act cool. “You know, this show is kinda… entertaining.” He admitted, his tone almost sheepish. It was rare for him to admit when something amused him, but today felt different. Mo’nique’s easygoing nature, her enjoyment of the little things, made everything seem lighter. He was starting to appreciate the weirdness of The Nanny too.

She smirked, raising an eyebrow. “I told you,” she said, nudging him with her shoulder as the show continued. “The Nanny is the shit.” She cheesed. “Ooo, you have to watch Living Single too. Love that show.” She mumbled to him, trying not to speak over the television and disrupt his watching experience, and she never once took her eyes off the screen. Unique just gave her a sidelong glance, not saying much more, but his lips twitched into a small, reluctant smile. She’d caught him. Caught him enjoying a show he probably never thought he’d watch.

The episode of The Nanny ended with the familiar jingle of the closing credits, and Mo’nique wasted no time snatching up the remote, flipping through channels with a lazy sort of interest. Meanwhile, Unique had gotten comfortable, sifting through the stack of comics she had pulled out for herself, but they soon caught his interest. He wasn’t much of a comic book dude, but something about seeing them neatly organized in her collection made him curious. He flipped through a few pages of The Incredible Hulk, catching glimpses of intense battle sequences and inner monologues.

It all felt oddly domestic, the two of them sitting on the couch, a blanket between them, the glow of the TV filling the room with warmth. Mo’nique didn’t think much about it—she was content, just sitting there, the weight of the world feeling a little lighter. Maybe it was the sun streaming through the windows, maybe it was the comfort of the moment, or maybe it was the quiet company they’d found in each other over the past few days.

Then, the shrill ring of the phone cut through the room.

Before Unique even thought about it, Mo’nique was already moving. She barely hesitated before leaning across him, her body nearly brushing against his as she reached for the phone sitting on the side table. His eyes followed her instinctively, the closeness catching him off guard.

Her scent—warm, familiar, and sweet, that same cinnamon and vanilla, with something else he couldn’t quite place—filled his nose as she brought the receiver to her ear. He didn’t even pretend not to look, his gaze trailing from the loose curls that framed her face, down to the way her sweatshirt draped over her body, teasing at the curves underneath.

She rolled her eyes after a brief pause. “It’s my cousin, Earl,” She clarified to him, already sounding exasperated.

Unique smirked to himself, knowing that eye roll probably meant Earl was calling with some nonsense. He turned his attention back to the comic, half-listening as Mo’nique talked to her cousin.

“No, I ain’t been holdin’ him hostage.” She said dryly. “He’s as fine as he can be. Walkin’ and everything.”

Unique huffed a quiet laugh at that, still pretending to read. She spoke with Earl for a few more moments before suddenly, she was holding the phone out to him.

“It’s for you.” She said, tilting her head toward him.

Unique arched a brow but took the receiver anyway. “Yeah?”

On the other end, Earl’s voice came through, casual but laced with something just short of concern. “Damn, nigga, I gotta check on you myself? You still breathin’?”

Unique hummed, stretching his legs out. “Barely,” He muttered, his middle sort of dropping since he now had to think about the situation he was currently in.

“Uh-huh. Mo’nique takin’ care of you, I see. You eatin’? She got you doin’ yoga or some weird shit yet?” He asked. Unique let out a half-assed chuckle. “Nah, but she got me walkin’ like an old man, so I guess that count.” He shrugged.

Earl snorted. “Good. You ain’t got time to be laid up forever. You know you owe me, right? This little hospital recovery situation you got goin’ on ain’t free.” He stated. Unique rolled his eyes, leaning his head back against the couch. “I know what I owe, Earl. Ain’t gotta remind me.” He said, not even trying to hide how pissed his tone sounded.

“I mean, I do, ‘cause I know how y’all niggas get when a woman playin’ nurse. You get too comfortable, next thing you know, you tryna post up and start a life.”

Unique smirked. “Nigga, shut up.”

Earl laughed, but his tone shifted slightly, turning a bit more serious. “For real, though. Don’t let all that home-cooked food and soft hands fool you. She doin’ you a favor, but it ain’t forever. You gettin’ back on your feet soon, right?”

Unique exhaled through his nose, glancing toward Mo’nique, who was still settled beside him, flipping through channels without care. “Yeah, man. I’m workin’ on it.” He said, looking at the woman.

Earl let out a satisfied hum. “Aight. Just checkin’. Don’t say I ain’t look out.” Unique only grunted in response before saying a quick, “I’ll hit you later,” and hanging up. He shook his head slightly, letting the phone rest on his stomach.

His attention drifted just as Mo’nique got up from the couch, stretching her arms above her head. Her off-the-shoulder sweater allowed him to see more of her once she stood, and her position showed him much more for a few seconds before she headed toward the kitchen. Unique barely listened to the background noise of the television now, too focused on the way she moved.

She pulled open the fridge, bending slightly to look inside, and his eyes dropped to her form. Those black leggings she had on turned out to be a body suit that clung to her like a second skin, but the oversized gray sweatshirt she threw on over it gave the illusion that she was just wearing tight pants. His gaze lingered, trailing the curve of her hips, the way her stance shifted as she rummaged through the fridge.

Yeah, Earl had a point. This was comfortable—too comfortable. And yet, Unique didn’t feel the need to move just yet. He blinked before placing the phone back and then picking up the coming book.

It wasn’t long before the scent of sautéing onions and garlic filled the small apartment, weaving through the air and settling over the living room where Unique sat, still flipping through one of Mo’nique’s comics. She moved back and forth in the kitchen like it was second nature, checking on what was sizzling on the stove, and then making sure the oven was doing its job. It was a simple meal, but a full one—pan-seared ribeyes with a rich gravy, mashed potatoes, and a side of roasted green beans. Nothing extravagant, just something hearty, something that would stick to the ribs.

As she moved past the couch again, heading back toward the kitchen, her eyes flicked toward the television. “You watching this?” She asked, nodding at the screen.

Unique barely looked up from the comic in his hands, shaking his head. “Nah,” He murmured, holding up the book in explanation.

Without hesitation, she grabbed the remote and turned the TV off. The room was quiet for a moment, save for the distant hum of the oven and the occasional bubbling of something on the stove. Then, instead of walking straight back to the kitchen, Mo’nique veered toward the record player sitting next to her bookshelf.

Unique’s eyes lifted from the comic, watching as she crouched slightly, thumbing through a stack of vinyls with the same kind of careful selection she used when she was prepping ingredients. His interest was piqued—not just at the records, but at the ease with which she moved through this space, the quiet confidence in how she did things without making a big show of it.

A moment later, the soft crackle of the record player filled the air before the unmistakable voice of Sade poured into the room.

“This may come… this may come as some surprise…”

Unique recognized it immediately. Love Deluxe. The kind of album you let play straight through without skipping a single track. His lips twitched in amusement as he glanced between the page in his hands and the woman in front of him, absorbing one more than the other.

Mo’nique, still facing the record player, adjusted the volume slightly before swaying a bit as she made her way back to the kitchen.

“I won’t pretend that I intend to stop living…”

Unique let the words settle over him, leaning back into the couch as he took it in. After a few seconds, he finally spoke. “You got good taste.”

Mo’nique turned her head slightly, stirring something in a pot as she smirked. “You surprised?” She asked.

Unique shook his head with pursed lips. “Nah,” He admitted, setting the comic down on the arm of the couch. “I just ain’t met a lot of people my age who actually own vinyls. It’s all about the cast now.” He shrugged before looking over at the stand that held the records, and he could recognize most through the class. “You got a nice collection.”

She chuckled, glancing over at him. “Ain’t nothin’ like hearin’ music the way it’s supposed to sound. Ain’t nothing gon’ ever replace this.” She stated, gesturing very to her record stand. Unique nodded in agreement, a spark of appreciation in his eyes. “You sound like me. I had something like a record shop back in the day.” He added.

Mo’nique arched a brow, pausing for a second. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Unique said, stretching an arm along the back of the couch. “Had everything in there—old school, jazz, soul, hip-hop. Kept the classics in rotation. People used to come in just to talk music, even if they wasn’t buyin’ nothin’ or getting tailored.”

Mo’nique smiled, clearly impressed. “That’s dope. You still got it?” She asked. And Unique hesitated. He blinked, glancing at the spinning record before shaking his head. “Some like that.” He said. He didn’t elaborate, and Mo’nique didn’t press. Instead, she simply hummed in acknowledgment, letting the music fill the space between them again.

“I won’t pretend… I’m good at forgiving…”

She stirred the pot once more, then moved to check on the steak in the oven, the glow of the kitchen light making her sweatshirt appear almost silver as she moved. Unique watched her, his fingers absently drumming against the couch as he took in the scene.

“You a big Sade fan?” He asked after a beat.

Mo’nique grinned. “Huge. My sisters used to play her albums when our mama made us clean the house.”

Unique smirked, nodding. “A classic for real. ‘Cherish the Day’ might be my favorite track off this one.”

“Mmm,” Mo’nique hummed approvingly. “That’s a good one. But for me? It’s ‘Kiss of Life.’ Great song.”

Unique chuckled, shaking his head. “You a romantic.” He stated more than asked.

She let out a small scoff, giving him a knowing look. “And you ain’t? I mean, who the hell isn’t?”She asked. But Unique simply tilted his head, considering. “I appreciate good music, that’s all.” He shrugged.

Mo’nique laughed softly, shaking her head before turning back toward the stove. The room felt lighter now, more familiar in a way that hadn’t been there before. Unique stretched out his legs, letting the smooth melodies wash over him, feeling…an odd sense of peace.

“So, what happened with the record shop?” Mo’nique asked, her voice cutting through the music. She kept her tone casual, but there was a pointed curiosity behind it. Unique exhaled through his nose, shifting slightly. He didn’t look up from the book, his jaw tensing momentarily as quick thoughts of recent events played out in his mind. “Had to let it go.” He said, but even as the words left his mouth, he knew that wasn’t enough. It wasn’t just a shop. It had never just been a shop. And something about the way she was looking at him over her shoulder told him she knew that, too.

She arched a brow at his silence, waiting to see if there was more before she spoke again. His tongue poked at his cheek, the habit of keeping shit vague kicking in before he could stop it. “Wasn’t just a record store.” He admitted finally, the words slow, careful. He didn’t really know why he was presenting this information. It’s not like he trusted Mo’nique or anything. But his life was in her hands, in a way, and she hadn’t done anything to prove that she was unworthy of a little openness between them. “Had some… other things tied up in it. Business got hot, I had to step away.” He practically mumbled.

Mo’nique hummed, scraping the bottom of the pan with her spoon. “Mmm. I figured it was something like that.

Unique’s gaze drifted up towards her, his eyes narrowed slightly. “Is that right?” He asked.

Mo’nique turned to him with a small smirk. “C’mon, Nique. A young nigga in the ’90s owning a record shop and actually making real money off it? Either you had old money, or you had a side hustle. And, not to be a bitch, nothing about you gives trust fund baby, B.” She says, a small wince on her face near the end.

Unique let out an audacious chortle, shaking his head. “And you peeped all that from Earl dropping me off on your doorstep?”

“I peep everything.” She said simply with a shrug, moving to chop up some fresh parsley before she let out a large sigh. “It ain’t nothing new.” She mumbled, but it was loud enough for Unique to hear her over the cooking, causing him to question what that statement meant. For a second, he just watched her, waiting for the follow-up questions—the ones that usually came whenever people got even the slightest inkling of what he did. The ones about how deep he was in, how much money he made, whether he’d ever been locked up.

But Mo’nique didn’t ask. She didn’t even look surprised. She just took it in stride, like it was just another piece of information about him, no different than him telling her his favorite color.

It threw him off a little.

He tapped a finger against his knee, watching her from the couch. “You don’t wanna ask nothin’ else?” He asked, and though somewhat genuinely, he was trying to pry more context out of her due to her previous statement.

Mo’nique shrugged. “Nah.”

Unique blinked. “Nah?”

“Nah.” She tossed the chopped parsley into the pan. “Ain’t my business unless you want it to be.”

That made him pause. Most people either wanted in, wanted to know the extent of it, or wanted to use it against him somehow. But she? She really didn’t seem to care one way or another. Something about that settled in his chest in a way he didn’t expect.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The meal came together smoothly, the air rich with the aroma of seared steak, garlic-buttered potatoes, and slow-cooked greens. Mo’nique worked with an effortless rhythm, moving between the stove and counter, plating everything with the same care she put into cooking. She drizzled a dark, velvety sauce over the steak, letting it settle before giving it a final once-over. Satisfied, she grabbed a fork and knife, setting them on the plate before heading toward the living room.

Unique was still lounging on the couch, one hand draped lazily over his stomach, the other flipping absentmindedly through another comic from her collection. He glanced up when she walked in, his eyes flicking from the plate in her hands to her face.

“You ain’t gotta serve me like that, B.” He muttered though he was already sitting up, adjusting himself to make room.

Mo’nique smacked her lips. “What are you gonna do? Come get it?” She asked, and before he could even think of what to say to her jab, she rolled her eyes. “Just eat the damn food.”

She pulled the coffee table closer before setting the plate down in front of him, then grabbed her own and sat beside him. The television remained off, the room bathed in the soft golden glow from the lamps, and Sade’s voice floated through the space like silk, setting an easy, intimate mood.

Unique picked up his fork, cutting into the steak. The first bite was met with a deep, satisfied hum. “Damn,” he said, glancing over at her. “Aight, I gotta give it to you. You did that.”

Mo’nique smirked. “I know.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he scooped up some potatoes next. They ate in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds being the occasional scrape of silverware and the soft croon of Kiss of Life playing in the background.

After a few bites, Unique leaned back against the couch, his gaze drifting toward her. “Aight, so I told you about me. What’s your story?”

Mo’nique lifted a brow. “My story?” She asked, chewing.

“Yeah.” He nodded toward her. “You know shit about me, but I don’t know much about you ‘cept that you know how to cook, you got good taste in music, and you read comics. What else?”

She stabbed a piece of steak, chewing thoughtfully. “Ain’t much to tell.” She muttered, looking off in thought as her mind tried to come open with something.

Unique gave her a look. “C’mon, B. Ain’t nobody that simple.” He said, raising a brow at her. Conversation was light between them, a track contrast from the small pout they found themselves in yesterday. But everything seemed to be progressing nicely, and they both thought that maybe their time together after all wouldn’t be that bad.

Mo’nique smirked, tilting her head slightly before glancing away. She hadn’t expected him to ask about her, not like this. Most men in his position were content with talking about themselves, but Unique seemed genuinely curious.

She exhaled, rolling her shoulders. “I’m from Harlem. Move to Queens five years ago for work after I graduated. Been on my own for a minute now. I nurse old people sometimes, keep to myself.” She listed plainly before looking over at him once she finished.

Unique nodded slowly, waiting for more.

Mo’nique shot him a look. “What?” She asked, tilting her head

“You said sometimes. Is nursing all you do?”

“I do hair sometimes,” She said, sipping from her glass of water. Unique hummed, watching her as he took another bite. “You got people out here?” He questioned, such a question sounded weird coming from his mouth, but Mo’nique didn’t seem phased.

“Not really.” She shrugged, pushing her greens around her plate. “Cousins and whatnot, but I don’t be around them like that. Just Earl when he feels like bothering me.” She said, and let out a sigh at the thought of the man.

Unique smirked. “Yeah, I peeped that.”

She rolled her eyes. “I guess he means well. I don’t see it. And he annoying as hell.” She stated.

“Ain’t that what cousins supposed to be?”

Mo’nique chuckled at that, shaking her head.

For a while, they just ate, letting the conversation flow naturally. Unique asked questions here and there—nothing too deep, but enough to get a feel for her. And Mo’nique, to her own surprise, found herself answering without hesitation. It felt nice to open up like this. It’s been a while since she’s done out and spoken to someone new, and getting to experience and tell stories all over again.

There was an ease to it, the kind of thing that didn’t need to be forced. And as the record played on, and their plates gradually emptied, it became clear that, somehow, without even realizing it, they had settled into something… familiar. Something comfortable.

Neither of them said it out loud, but they both felt it.

“Speaking of family,” Mo’nique said, cutting another piece of steak. “My sisters and their kids sometimes visit on the weekends. Just giving you a heads up.”

She glanced over at Unique, a small smile playing on her lips. He had slowed down on his food, now just lazily pushing the last bit of potatoes around with his fork. He raised a brow at her words.

“How many you got?” He asked.

“Two. Both older,” she answered. “Tasha and Renee. They got four kids between them.”

Unique hummed, nodding. “You close with ‘em?”

“Mhm. They were on my ass heavy growing up,” Mo’nique admitted, smirking slightly. “Acted like they was my mama sometimes and other times I couldn’t even get them to hang out with me.”

He chuckled at that, picturing it. “That's why you left Harlem? Needed space?”

Mo’nique’s smile faded a bit as she looked down at her plate. She leaned back slightly, rolling her shoulders. “Something like that.” She said tensely. “Harlem’s always gon’ be home, but it started feeling too small, you know? Needed a change, and Queens felt… I dunno, different.” She shrugged, reluctantly glancing up at him. Their eyes connected but her behavior didn’t seem to be apparent to him, or he simply ignored it.

Unique nodded slowly like he understood exactly what she meant. “Yeah. I get that.” He sighed, looking down at his own plate.

She watched him for a beat, curiosity flickering in her gaze. “You ever think about leaving?” She asked softly. Unique chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment before exhaling sharply through his nose. “Nah.” He said, looking back up at her. “This home. This all I know.” He shrugged. There was something in the way he said it—final, but not necessarily proud. His words seemed to settle after he said them, the man clenching his jaw as thoughts of every moment that happened, leading up to the predicament he was in currently. His finger flexed as his mind flashed thoughts about his brother, but blinking seemed to do the trick to settle the rage he could feel building up.

Mo’nique noticed but didn’t press. She simply nodded, accepting his answer as it was. A quiet moment passed between them before the phone rang again.

She barely thought about it before moving, instinct kicking in as she sat her plate on the glass table and leaned across Unique—again.

This time, she still wasn’t as careful about the space between them as she moved out of habit, but her eyes caught his just as her fingers wrapped around the receiver.

Her breath hitched.

He was staring at her, those dark eyes locked onto hers, unreadable but intense. She hadn’t realized just how close she had gotten, her chest nearly brushing his. And he noticed how long and luscious his lashes made his brown irises. For a split second, she couldn’t move, frozen under the weight of his gaze.

Unique didn’t say a word, didn’t move either—just sat there, watching her.

Mo’nique swallowed, tightening her grip on the phone before pulling back, blinking as if shaking something off. She sat back into her spot, crossing her legs softly before holding the phone up to her ear.

“Hello?” She said, voice smooth despite the slight flutter in her stomach.

The sound of faint music and chatter filled her ear before a familiar voice cut through.

“Girl, where you at? We all about to go out tonight. You coming or what?”

Mo’nique sighed lightly, already shaking her head. “I can’t tonight.”

“What you mean you can’t? You said—”

“You know my sisters sometimes come over on the weekends.” She cut in smoothly, her voice holding a faux sadness like she truly regretted it. She glanced at Unique as she spoke, catching him watching her again, though this time he was back to eating as if the moment between them hadn’t just happened.

Her friend groaned on the other end, clearly not buying it but knowing better than to argue. “Man, whatever. You always got some excuse.”

Mo’nique smirked. “You’ll live.”

Her friend sucked her teeth before finally hanging up.

Mo’nique lowered the phone, exhaling softly as she set it back down. She turned her attention back to Unique, who was still watching her, still eating, still relaxed. She picked her plate back up, schooling her face into something unreadable as she resumed eating, pretending like nothing had happened.

Unique eyed her as she picked up her plate, acting like he hadn’t just watched her come apart for a second when she leaned over him. He let her have her moment, let her pretend, but he wasn’t gonna let her slide that easy.

“Who was that?” He asked, his tone casual, but his eyes sharp.

Mo’nique jerked her head back slightly, her lips curling into a teasing grin. “Uh! Is that any of your business?” She quipped.

Unique let out a short breath of air, somewhere between a chuckle and a scoff. He shook his head, leaning back against the couch, his tongue running over his teeth.

“Sorry.” He muttered, throwing his hands up slightly.

Mo’nique smirked before stabbing another piece of steak with her fork. “If you must know.” She said, chewing slowly, drawing it out. “It was one of my homegirls. They wanted me to go out tonight.” She said uninterestedly.

Unique’s chewing slowed as he took in what she just said to him, and the conversation he heard her have over the phone. His jaw tensed slightly, brows furrowing as something shifted behind his eyes. “You could’ve went out tonight.” He said, his voice noticeably flatter.

Mo’nique blinked at his tone, her fork pausing midway to her mouth. “I mean, I guess, but I didn’t really want to.” She shrugged.

“Yeah, but you said your sisters were here,” Unique shot back. “Your sisters ain’t here.” He stated with a shake of his head.

Mo’nique’s brow lifted, her lips parting slightly at his sudden shift in tone. “Well, I couldn’t say there’s a man in my home that I’m taking care of, could I?” She pointed out. And though she was still poking fun, her situation was obviously true and real for both of them.

But that didn’t land the way she thought it would.

Unique’s face twisted, something dark flickering in his eyes as he straightened up slightly. “See! That’s why you ain’t wanna go.” His voice edged with something heated now, something irritated. “I’m not keeping you from going out. You can go have fun. I ain’t some fuckin’ baby that needs your constant attention.” He hissed

Mo’nique narrowed her eyes at his sudden mood change, jaw tightening. “I didn’t say you were, Unique.” She stated in a firm tone as she became increasingly angry.

“You didn’t fucking have to, Mo’nique.” He snapped.

She stared at him for a moment, letting his words sit in the air before exhaling sharply through her nose. She put her plate down on the coffee table, sitting up straighter.

“You doin’ a lot right now,” She said, shaking her head as she let out a humorless chuckle to stop herself from becoming angrier. It’s why she set the plate down. Not only because was she done was eating, but having a knife and fork in her hands wasn’t going to make her feel any better with a man currently yelling at her. Unique scoffed, his tongue clicking against his teeth. “Nah, you doin’ a lot.” He shot back. “Lyin’ about why you ain’t wanna go. Actin’ like you stuck here, or some shit. Like I got you tied up in this motherfucker.” He grumbled, the plate on his lap long forgotten as he dropped his utensils a while ago. He let out a tired sigh as he moved the plate to the table as well, feeling his annoyance rise, though he didn’t see how irrational it was.

Mo’nique’s lips pressed together, her temper starting to bubble. “I didn’t lie, nigga, I just didn’t feel like goin’.” She said firmly. “And you not about to sit here and act like I said somethin’ I didn’t.”

Unique shook his head, his knee bouncing now, his hands rubbing against his sweatpants. His head was starting to ache and throb, pressure building behind his eyes, and for some reason, it all just irritated the fuck out of him. “You don’t even know me like that,” He muttered, shaking his head. “So you can quit actin’ like I need takin’ care of.”

Mo’nique scoffed at him and threw her hands up. “Nigga, you got a whole ass head injury! You can barely fucking walk! You do need takin’ care of!” She yelled. “Matter of fact, you need a fucking doctor from an actual hospital!” She shouted, looking over at him.

That made Unique’s jaw clench, his nostrils flaring as he exhaled sharply. He wanted to argue that, wanted to bark something back at her, but he couldn’t. Not without lying. Mo’nique watched his face, saw the way his frustration boiled under the surface, and sighed heavily. She shook her head, running a hand over her face.

“I stayed ‘cause I wanted to, Unique. Not ‘cause I had to.” She said, her tone softer but still firm. “Ain’t nobody makin’ me do shit.”

But Unique’s knee kept bouncing, his jaw working. He tapped his fingers against his thigh, his head still pulsing, his mood still sour, but he didn’t say anything for a long moment. Stewing in his own head while the music played on in the background, Sade’s voice smoothing over the tension in the room. Mo’nique’s words hung in the air for a second, but Unique wasn’t the type to let shit slide—not when he was already on edge. Then finally, with a low scoff, he muttered, “Whatever, man.” He said, shaking his head.

Mo’nique rolled her eyes at him before picking her plate back up and scoffing. “Childish ass.” She mumbled as she walked over to dump the scraps from her plate and then placed the dirty dishes in the sink, the ceramic and metal clacking together loudly.

His head snapped toward her as she walked away, eyes sharp, something dangerous flickering behind them. “The fuck you just say?” His voice was low, like the warning before the storm.

Mo’nique turned and met his glare head-on, not backing down. “You heard me.” She said.

Unique let out a dry, humorless chuckle, shaking his head as he leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees. “Oh, so now I’m childish? ‘Cause I ain’t sittin’ here lettin’ you treat me like I’m some fuckin’ burden? Are you stupid?”

Mo’nique’s lips parted slightly, her frustration bubbling over as she turned to face him full in, walking back over into the living room. “Watch your fucking mouth, Unique! I never said that shit! You keep twisting my words like I said somethin’ I didn’t because you’re in your fucking feelings or whateva!” She yelled, frantically waving her hands since it was the only thing that could explain any of the shit he had running through his mind.

Unique scoffed, looking away for a second before snapping his eyes back to her. “You did, though. The way you said it—like you ‘takin’ care’ of me. Like I need you! Like I’m some lil’ nigga you gotta look after. I don’t need shit from you!”

Mo’nique let out a sharp breath, shaking her head. “You act like I said you was helpless. I ain’t say none of that. You the one that got in your feelings over some shit I ain’t even mean like that.”

Unique’s jaw tightened, his fingers moving to press against his forehead as the pain behind his eyes became too much, making everything feel ten times worse. “Man, you don’t get it.” He muttered. “You just don’t fucking it get it!”

Mo’nique narrowed her eyes. “Then explain it to me.” She said, placing her hand on her hips.

Unique looked at her then, really looked at her, like he was trying to decide if it was even worth saying out loud. But his head was hot, his emotions tangled, and the words slipped out before he could stop them. “I spent my whole life makin’ sure I was the one takin’ care of shit. I built myself up, made my name, made sure nobody ever had to look after me.” He said fondly, hitting his hand against his chest as he looked up at her. “So yeah, when you sittin’ here talkin’ like I’m some responsibility—like I’m some job—I don’t like that shit.” He hissed.

Mo’nique stared at him for a second, processing, before shaking her head. “That’s your ego, Unique. Not reality. And that ain’t my fucking problem.” She spat. And even though she was angry, she didn’t feel bad for the man. She always had, since he arrived. She didn’t know what he did to end up in the situation he was in, but living with pain had to be a fate worse than dying, and his pain was unimaginable. But she couldn’t sit here and just let this man disrespect her, even if she was going through shit she couldn’t quite fathom.

Unique shook his head, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek, his irritation still simmering. But for some reason, when she said that, when she poked at him just a little bit, it made something in his chest twist—not in anger, but in something else. Something that made him drag his eyes over her, from the way she stood up all defensive, to the way she was holding that fork earlier like she might jab him with it if he said something outta pocket.

Silence stretched between them for a second, the air thick, charged.

Then, finally, Unique let out a breath, shaking his head with an almost amused smirk. “You a piece of work, you know that?”

Mo’nique smirked right back. “And yet, here you are, still sittin’ in my house.”

Unique let out a dry laugh, low and humorless. “Yeah, here I am.” His voice was tight, his jaw clenched. “And maybe that’s the problem.”

Mo’nique’s faux smirk faltered for half a second before she scoffed, folding her arms. “The problem?” She echoed, eyes narrowing. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Unique sat up, his body tense, his glare sharp. “It means maybe I shouldn’t be here! Maybe I should’ve never been here in the first place!” His voice boomed through the apartment, bouncing off the walls.

Mo’nique let out a sharp laugh, shaking her head. “Oh, so now it’s my fault you sittin’ in my damn house? I ain’t force you to be here, Unique! You think I dragged your ass off the street and made you sit on my couch?”

“You ain’t force me, huh? Oh okay, you ain’t force me.” Unique leaned forward, eyes blazing. “Then why the fuck you actin’ like you stuck with me or some shit?“

Mo’nique threw her hands up. “When the fuck did I ever say that?!” She asked. “Huh?! When? You makin’ shit up in your head and then gettin’ mad about it like that shit real!” She yelled.

Unique slammed a fist against his thigh, his breathing ragged. “You think I’m makin’ shit up? You think I don’t see the way you act? The way you talk to me like I’m some charity case?”

Mo’nique’s eyes widened, and then she snapped.

“You know what? Fuck you, Unique!” She shouted, stepping closer, her voice shaking with anger. “Ain’t nobody treatin’ you like no goddamn charity case!” She said, getting closer to where he sat on the couch. “You sittin’ here poutin’ like a little fucking boy ‘cause I ain’t tell my homegirls I got a nigga laid up in my house? Is that what you’re really angry at? Huh! Is that it? You want me to put you on the lease or some shit? You want me to announce you?”

“Don’t play with me, Mo’nique.” Unique’s voice was low and lethal, his chest rising and falling as he glared at her.

“Or what? What the fuck you gon’ do?” She snapped right back, stepping even closer, damn near toe-to-toe with him and she bent down to be near his eyes level. “’Cause you ain’t scarin’ me, nigga. At all! You wanna throw a tantrum ‘cause I chose to stay in instead of goin’ out? Like I made that choice ‘cause of you? Get the fuck over yourself!”

Unique was breathing hard now, his fists clenched at his sides, his body rigid. His head was pounding, the anger clawing up his throat, his vision damn near shaking.

“You so full of shit, Mo’nique!” He bellowed, his voice vibrating through the walls as she shouted in her face.

“And you so damn insecure, Unique!” She fired back, eyes blazing. “What, you think every little thing I say is some secret message about how I don’t want you here? Like I gotta prove somethin’ to you every damn second? Ain’t nobody got time for that shit! Nigga, I barely fucking know you!”

Unique’s nostrils flared as they glared at each other, the air between them thick, electric with tension, their chests heaving, their bodies taut like they were seconds away from either tearing each other apart.

Mo’nique then suddenly scoffed and turned away, shaking her head as she snatched his plate off the table. “Is that it? Is that all?” She asked him. “Cause I’m done talkin’ to you, man.” She muttered.

“Good,” Unique snapped, flopping back against the couch with a sharp exhale. “Shit.”

And so the air between them was still thick with the remnants of their argument, tension hanging like smoke in the small apartment. Mo’nique moved through the kitchen with mechanical precision, scraping the plates into the sink and washing them with a quick but forceful scrub, the sound of water splashing echoing around the apartment. She wasn’t sure if she was cleaning out of necessity or out of sheer frustration—maybe a little of both. Her movements were sharp and quick, and there was an edge to her, a rawness in the way she held herself that hadn’t been there before the argument.

Unique, meanwhile, had collapsed back onto the couch, his body sinking into the cushions as his head throbbed with the aftermath of both his injury and the fight. The heat of anger still simmered beneath his skin, but the fatigue was quickly drowning it out. He stared at the ceiling, willing the pounding in his skull to ease, his mind racing over what had just happened. He was pissed—pissed that she didn’t get it, that she couldn’t see why he didn’t want to be coddled. But that didn’t mean the argument was over. It couldn’t be. Not yet.

Mo’nique finished cleaning the dishes and wiped the counters with a quick swipe of the rag, tossing it onto the sink and wiping her hands on a dry one. She didn’t say a word to him as she turned away, but she could feel his eyes on her as she walked across the room. She could feel the heat of his gaze even without looking at him as she walked to her room, and it made her skin crawl. It wasn’t the same look from earlier—it wasn’t even anger now. But it was something else.

She sighed once she walked into the space and then looked at the couch. She’d promised him she’d help him get to bed, but the idea of sharing the same space after what just went down didn’t sit well with her. She needed space, but he was hurt—he was the one who needed help. But she needed to get ready for bed before he even thought of the idea of entertaining him.

It wasn’t long beefed she walked back out of the room, in tight shorts and a basketball jersey with her hair wrapped. She made quick work of cutting off the record player after she walked into the small living room. She still looked angry from the argument that occurred moments ago, and it was also evident in her tone as she stood near the coffee table and spoke. “It’s time for bed.” She said flatly, her voice betraying nothing of the emotion she was hiding.

He didn’t move at first. Just stared at her for a moment. His expression was hard to read, but she caught the way his jaw clenched, the way he shifted as if he was torn between stubbornness and physical pain.

“You gonna help me or not?” He asked, his voice rough from the shouting.

Mo’nique rolled her eyes. “If I wasn’t going to help you, I would’ve left your ass here.” She said. She then walked over to him and offered her hand. He stared at it for a long beat, his brow furrowed. It wasn’t just that he didn’t want help—it was that he hated needing it. And he hated that she knew it. She always seemed to know just when to push his buttons.

He took her hand, though, begrudgingly, allowing her to help him up. They moved slowly, his body aching with each step as she guided him toward the bedroom. The silence between them was heavy, thick with unspoken words. They hadn’t resolved anything. It felt like the argument was still alive like it was hanging over them, waiting to be picked up again.

When they made it to the bed, Unique collapsed onto it, groaning in pain, his hand pressing against his ribs as if he could somehow ease the ache. Mo’nique stood over him, arms crossed, looking down at him for a moment. She wasn’t sure if she was still mad at him or just frustrated with the whole damn situation.

“You need your meds.” She stated, her voice a little softer now, though it was still tinged with irritation.

Unique nodded, eyes closed, his face tense. “Yeah.”

Mo’nique went to the dresser, grabbed the pills and a bottle of water, and brought them back to him. She handed him the water first, then the pills, watching him swallow them without a second thought. He looked almost too tired to care.

She stood there for a second, looking at him, her arms still crossed. Her patience was thin, but there was something else, too. Something like concern buried beneath the anger. “You’re gonna be alright?” She asked, the question slipping out before she could stop it. She couldn’t help herself.

Unique didn’t answer right away. His eyes flickered up to meet hers, and there was something unreadable in his gaze before his eyes drifted away seconds later. “I’ll be fine.” He mumbled.

Mo’nique nodded, swallowing the sigh that threatened to rise in her throat. She turned to leave, already planning to crash on the couch for the night. She couldn’t be in the same bed with him after everything that happened. She didn’t want to sleep next to the guy who just screamed at her.

But before she could walk away, his voice stopped her again.

“Where you going?”

She turned, an eyebrow raised in challenge. “I’m not sleeping in here with you, Nique. You know that.” She sighed.

A few moments passed before Unique finally spoke, his voice low, strained, as though it hurt to admit something. “You don’t have to sleep out there.” He said. “I know…. we have our troubles, but you don’t have to do that. Be out there alone.” He uttered.

Mo’nique stared at him, a mix of disbelief and frustration clouding her face. “What, now you want me to babysit you? After all that?” She asked, gesturing a hand out of the room, alluding to the whole reason there was so much tension between them, to begin with, all while trying her best to surprise the way his words tugged at an unfamiliar place deep within her chest.

He didn’t back down, his gaze hardening, his tone firm. “I’m not asking you to babysit. I’m asking you to be here.” He admitted.

And she wasn’t sure why, but something in his voice—the vulnerability beneath all the bullshit—struck a nerve. She took a slow, steady breath, trying to steady herself, to figure out what the hell to do with this whole situation. Mo’nique didn’t know whether to feel relieved or irritated. There was something so raw about his admission, something that made the hardness in her heart crack just a little. She stayed quiet for a moment longer, biting back the urge to snap something back at him.

She didn’t want to give in. She didn’t want to let him win. But she couldn’t ignore the fact that he was hurt, that he needed help in a way that went beyond just the physical. And maybe that was the worst part—because no matter how mad she was, she couldn’t just walk away and leave him to deal with this shit on his own.

Mo’nique let out a long sigh, biting her lip. She turned back to him, walking slowly to the bed and sitting on the edge.

“I’ll stay.” She said quietly, her voice softer than before. “But I swear, if you pull this shit again tomorrow, I’m out. Don’t think this means I’m just gonna forget everything.” She stated firmly, not meeting his gaze.

Unique gave her a tired, almost defeated nod. He didn’t argue. For the first time that night, the fire in his eyes had dulled. He still looked sort of pissed— frustrated. But there was something in the way his posture had softened, something in the way his voice had changed when he spoke, that made Mo’nique realize maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t the only one who needed to cool off.

“Fine. I get it.” He muttered, his eyes drifting closed.

Mo’nique stayed by the bed, watching him for a moment before leaning back against the headboard. She didn’t try to get comfortable, not yet. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to forgive or forget. But for now, they were here. In this moment, together. Silent, but present.

The argument still lingered in the air, but at least they weren’t yelling anymore. And maybe that was enough.

The room was quiet, save for the soft sound of Mo’nique breathing, trying to settle her thoughts. Her gaze kept drifting towards Unique, who was now lying in bed, under the covers with his eyes closed, the tension in his face giving away just how much the day had taken out of him. He looked fragile, vulnerable in a way that made her stomach twist. The anger was still simmering beneath her skin, but it was buried under layers of exhaustion, the kind that only came from spending hours fighting someone who should have understood her better.

She shifted uncomfortably on the edge of the bed, her fingers playing with the hem of her shirt, biting her lip as she tried to hold back the urge to say something—anything—to break the silence. But she didn’t know what to say. She had nothing left in her to keep the argument going, but still, something tugged at her chest.

A few moments passed before Unique finally spoke, his voice low, strained, as though it hurt to admit something. “I know…I know I’m not the easiest to be around right now.” He mumbled. His words then hung in the air, heavy with meaning. She didn’t say anything in response, just letting out a sigh as she began to sink down in the slot next to him, letting exhaustion guide her. She wasn’t ready to forgive, but she was willing to try to make peace.

With a sigh, she shifted on the bed, her shoulder brushing against his as she finally spoke. “I’m not perfect either, Nique.” She said, her voice soft as she spoke with her eyes closed, her head tilted his way. “I know I pushed your buttons. I didn’t mean to go off on you like that.” She said it quietly, the words coming out slower than she wanted, but they felt necessary. She didn’t want to be angry anymore. Not tonight.

His eyes were locked on her face, expression softer now, though his eyes still held the same exhaustion. “I get it.” He said, taking this opportunity to really analyze her features since she was so close and resting. “I get why you were mad. And… I didn’t mean to snap at you. I just… I don’t like feeling like I’m a burden.” He admitted quietly.

Mo’nique’s breath caught slightly, hearing the vulnerability in his voice. “You’re not a burden, Nique.” She murmured, opening her eyes and connecting them with his, those of which were already on her. Her voice was quieter now, less harsh. “But you can’t shut me out when you need help. You can’t push me away like that.” She stated.

He looked at her before he nodded slowly, his eyes meeting hers for the first time in what felt like forever. “I know. I’m sorry. I… I’ll try to do better.”

She didn’t answer him right away. Instead, she just let out a long breath, leaning her head back against her pillow. She felt the tension in her body start to loosen, the weight of the argument slowly slipping away as she closed her eyes for a moment.

“I’m not saying I’ll be perfect either,” Mo’nique said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “But… we’ve gotta figure this out. I don’t want to keep fighting with you.” She admitted softly.

Unique didn’t say anything else for a long while, and they sat there together in the quiet of the room, the weight of everything still there, but no longer feeling like it was going to tear them apart. The silence stretched between them, thick but not suffocating. Her eyes closed, his eyes on her. She didn’t expect everything to be fixed right away, but maybe—just maybe—they were both ready to start trying.

Finally, Unique shifted in bed, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. “I don’t need you to fix everything, Mo’nique. I just need you to be here.” His voice was soft, a little hoarse like he was saying something he’d been too stubborn to admit before.

Mo’nique smiled faintly at the admission, even though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She was still processing it all—still sorting through the mess of their feelings and the remnants of the fight. But for the first time that night, it didn’t feel like the world was closing in on her. For the first time that night, things felt… quieter.

“Fine.” She said, her voice low but firm before she yawned. “But if you ever pull that shit again, Nique…”

He let out a quiet chuckle, cutting her off. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll be good.”

Mo’nique nodded, his gaze softening as he glanced over at her. She felt the heat in her chest, the anger still there—but for the first time in hours, it was starting to subside.

“Good night, Unique.” She said quietly, her voice almost a whisper.

He closed his eyes, his hand resting by his side. “Good night, Mo’nique.”

And for the first time all night, they both finally let themselves relax, letting the weight of their arguments fade as they drifted into an uneasy, but much-needed, silence.

@notapradagurl7 @foxybrownsugababe @jazzieinthefuture @blkandchic @thecookiebratz @playgurlxoxo @planetblaque @harmshake @sweettea-and-honeybutter @sageispunk @onyxstones-world @keyera-jackson @satoruya @urfavblackbimbo @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @blackerthings @caashmoneynae @euphorichappiness10

@life-in-the-slut-house @araybiaaa

[princess-lvcifer]

Me every time I remember all the talented rockstars that died too young:

[yourfavealbumisgender]

Infest the Rat's Nest by King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard is a Lesbian!

requested by @loserclawkittycat

[aglasspomegranate]

Soulmate Time Traveler Au

Leather and Mike have lines in the game about something related to time. Mike says "You're mine. You've always been mine." And Leather says "Maybe I was waiting for you."

Between that and the song "Would you fall in love with me again" from Epic the musical. I got hit like a semi truck for a au.

Courtesy of the lines "I will fall in love with you. Over and over again. I don't care how, where or when. No matter how long it's been you're mine. You're always my husband and I've been waiting....waiting..." (Except the guys are Penelope and MC is Odysseus)

MC is using the darkness to try and weaken the darkness's hold on the guys but they keep running into them at various stages of their lives both before and after the curse was put on them, throughout their time as slashers.

"I'm from the future. I know something awful has been done to you, and your going to do things... terrible things....that you don't want to. Just know it's not your fault. What was done to you and your forced to do against your will is not your fault. And I do not blame you for it. I could never blame you. I'm going to break the curse on you. But I'm not ready yet...I'm not ..here yet. You'll understand everything eventually. Just wait for me, ok? Can do you that? For me?"

Mike 🐺

🐺 Mike remembers clearly and never forgot you got a second.

🐺 you met before the darkness muzzled him into not being able to speak freely.

"I'm actually from the future. We're....close then."

"Close? And who are you to me, exactly?"

"... I'm yours Mike."

"Mine?"

You smile gently, like you know something he doesn't...yet. "Yes Mike. Yours. I'll always be yours. If nothing else, remember that."

🐺It's why he's so dead set on you being "his" and being protective of you, even if you don't understand it early on in the present.

Leather 🐷

🐷 Leather was even more shy and wary of you in the past. Accusing you of being a witch more often than not.

🐷 you freak him out with knowledge about himself "you hate mice, you want a peaceful life, you love cuddles, you drank your grandma's sherry once at Christmas. jammy once stuffed tour stockings with dead pigeons but you didn't care much cause you made sugar cookies later with your family." And it convinces him enough that maybe you're are an ally if he told you all that.

🐷 he agrees to wait for you to break the curse, but over time slowly forgets what you look like as he loses hope you'll keep their promise and as he succumbs to the fog.

Jay 🐑

🐑First met Jay as a little boy and agreed to be his first friend. He tried to tell Carol about you but she insists Jay has an imaginary friend because she can't find you no matter how much she hunts for you

🐑Jay starts to believe their imaginary too and as you pop in and out of his life, he begins to get upset at you. He's big now, he shouldn't have imaginary friends, especially ones who break promises

🐑 Jay forgets about his imaginary friend in the fog until the curse is lifted and he sees you in the woods when it all comes rushing back. "You were all my firsts...my first friend...my first crush...my first love."

Ghost 🦊

🦊 Ghost in no way believes You when you tell him as a young man at camp that the feelings he has deep inside, that deep seeded anger and resentment will be his downfall. He scoffs and waves you off. "No one gets time travel right in movies, and I'm supposed to believe you in life? Don't make me laugh, loser."

🦊 After he becomes Ghost and learns about the darkness. He believes. He wants to break the curse and be free, to get justice and is upset when you disappear on him without breaking the curse, despite warning him you weren't ready to do it yet.

🦊 he can't remember you fully in the fog but he can remember the chemistry between you two. The almost magnetic pull and how fun you are, but he also remembers being upset at the long stints in time of when he gets to see you.

[mikeology]

🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀

[sidwilson-myheart0]

Hey Joey! (I miss him 😭)

Credits for the divider- @strangergraphics

[poopoobistro]

My Two Dads edit. This show is SO wild, it has my whole heart

[filministic]

Bullet Train (2022) dir. David Leitch

[junksterrr]

"Oink Oink” Flight b741: The Making of… || King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard

[popiko]

happy happy

[nonbinaryseymourkrelborn]

my friend introduced me to the late 80s sitcom My Two Dads and oh my God if I were a gay person in the late 80/early 90/ i would have been FOAMING AT THE MOUTH over these two like it is peak mlm domestic fluff but ofc bc it was the 80s/90s they made them straight, but still like i actually need people to go watch that show bc i swear i am not normal about them

and like it was written by the same guy who created boy meets world which is also notoriously mlm coded like the comphet that man had to have been feeling writing both of those shows bc oh my god like

i also need a buddie raising chris au of my two dads where neither of them know who is chris’s real father but they raise him together after shannon dies (and it’s actually gay) bc omg the potential for the enemies to lovers coparenting fluff/angst slowburn that could be???? top tier.