Page 49

Everything about the moment felt surreal—sun setting behind the houses, streetlights flickering to life, the rhythm of Crescent beating in tune with her heartbeat.

Kids on porches paused to stare. Old heads nodded like they knew what kind of love this was.

Even strangers smiled at them, like they could feel the peace radiating off Aku’s back.

Take me on a journey. So far away. Into the stars, the clouds, the galaxies, don’t leave me astray.

She squeezed him tighter trying to melt into his skin.

So many times, she wondered if this world he came from would ever make space for her. But tonight… tonight it didn’t just make space—it held her. Welcomed her. And Malik—rough, tender, loyal Malik—was the one guiding her through it all.

Then, outta nowhere, a white boy cruised past in a beat-up truck, windows down, blasting Can I Be Him by James Arthur. Malik caught the tail end of the chorus and slowed down just enough to pull up next to him.

“Aye, cuh!” Malik shouted. “What’s the name of that song?”

The boy grinned, hand out the window like he’d just been discovered. “James Arthur. Can I Be Him. That shit go, right?”

Malik nodded. “Bet. Appreciate you.”

He sped off, eyes smiling.

“You liked that song?” Aku asked, her lips super close to his ear.

Malik’s dick jumped at the warmth of her breath and the sweetness of her voice. “I’m fuckin’ wit it.”

“Just so damn cool.” She smirked before placing a kiss on the side of his face. “I fuck with it though.”

Her jazziness made him laugh as he still cruised through the streets. He had a destination on his mind—some shit he needed to do to show Aku who he really was—what he truly carried.

So lost and caught up in him, Aku was willing to go wherever Malil took her.

The four-wheeler rumbled low as Malik eased off the throttle and coasted up the block. The closer he got, the more it felt the same even though he avoided this part like the plague.

Aku’s arms wrapped tight around his waist with her cheek pressed against his back. Her stomach had been fluttering the whole ride, not just from the speed, but because she was carrying a secret she hadn’t felt yet.

Malik brought them to a slow stop in front of a brick wall tagged with layers of history. The mural of Jules was still there, untouched except for time. His half-smile stared out at the world beneath a blue crown and a spray-painted message: LONG LIVE THE HEARTBEAT .

Just beside it—added maybe a year ago—was another fresh and vibrant piece. Zaire. Arms crossed, standing tall on a lush green course. Blue fitted. Golf club in hand. A gold medal spray-painted around his neck with the words FROM THE SET TO THE STARS scrawled above it.

Aku slid off the back of the bike first, letting her fingers trace her belly briefly before dropping her hand and walking toward the wall. Malik stayed put, just watching her.

“Zaire really from here,” she commented, turning back to glance at Malik.

“Yea. He’s a little older than me but he a real Crescent baby.

” Malik nodded. “He used to roll dice right there. He used to post up on the corner with a busted golf club, hittin’ bottle caps into traffic.

” He pointed to the bottom step of a boarded-up duplex.

“Every Sunday. Dirty-ass fingernails and them lil’ cartoon socks.

He got a full scholarship to some golf academy out the blue.

Nigga ain’t looked back since. He still rep us though. ”

Malik finally stepped off the bike and walked over, slow like his memories were fighting him every step of the way. “But Jules,” he nodded toward the first mural, “ain’t get that kinda ending.”

She turned to face him, eyes soft but searching. “Right here?” she whispered.

He nodded. “They aired it out from that alley. Pharaoh was sittin’ on the steps crackin’ jokes. Jules had just walked out the corner store with a bag of Flamin’ Hots and a white tee. Ten seconds later…”

His jaw flexed. “Ten seconds.”

The street suddenly felt too loud. Or maybe too quiet. Either way, it felt wrong.

Some young boys in blue eased up from the corner. A few of them were lean and wiry. One had golds, another a babyface that didn’t match the .40 tucked under his hoodie.

“Ayo, is that Key?” one called out.

Malik gave a chin nod. “What’s good, lil’ homies?”

They pulled up all smiles and daps, clearly showing respect.

“You good out here,” one of them said, glancing toward Aku. “We got eyes everywhere. Ain’t no funny shit gon’ pop off.”

“Appreciate y’all,” Malik spoke genuinely.

“Other side been talkin’ though,” another one added. “They still bitter about that work we put in after Zay made it. Be actin’ like blue success mean red loss. Dumbass logic.”

“Fuck them niggas,” someone else muttered, spitting to the side. “We die behind this color, feel me?”

Aku swallowed hard and placed a hand over her belly. She hadn’t meant to, but it just… happened. It was something about hearing “die behind this color” while standing in front of a mural dedicated to a boy who actually did die that made her stomach twist.

Malik clocked the gesture but didn’t say anything.

The young boys gave one last nod and wandered off, laughing about something she couldn’t catch. The tension didn’t leave with them.

“I used to sound just like that,” Malik’s words came after a moment of silence. “Same tone. Same weight behind my words. Proud to throw my life away for a street that ain’t gon’ remember my middle name.”

He looked over at Jules’ mural again. “I still dream about it sometimes. The shots. The way Pharaoh screamed after he realized he couldn’t move. The way Jules’ chest went still under my hands.”

Aku stepped toward him, arms folded and face trembling. “You were just a kid too, Malik.”

“I was old enough to know better. But too young to stop myself. And now I carry all they pain, all they blood, like it’s part of my birthright.”

She grabbed his hands, lacing their fingers.

She wanted to tell him right then.

Wanted to say we’re not just us anymore . Wanted to let the truth fall out of her mouth and soften this pain. But the timing felt wrong. Too raw. Too much weight already sitting on his back.

So instead, Aku squeezed his hand tighter. Pressed her shoulder to his. “You’re still here,” she whispered. “So maybe that means you get to do it different.”

Malik’s exhale came out slow. His eyes lifted toward the mural of Jules, then Zaire. “I hope so.”

He leaned into her, body heavy with the grief of what he lost and the quiet hope of what might still be. “When we get back on the bike, play that song.”

“Which one?” Aku looked confused.

“Can I be him… Cause I’m gon’ be him for you.” Malik pulled her into him more. “I put that on the gang.”