AFROPUNK'D

malik braxton is a thirty-one year old (born jan 25th) demiguy who uses he/they pronouns. he’s a private music instructor best known for playing rhythm guitar in fish brains. they currently reside in aurora apartments. ☼ Aquarius | ☾ Taurus | ↑ Capricorn

when he’s not keeping his siblings (connor & kaya) from giving each other black eyes, they’re usually browsing feel good records or out of this world book store, strumming away at band practice, or on the hood of a car watching the night sky. the song they have on repeat at the moment is lootin’ in london by RDGLDGRN

Location: Feel Good Records

Status: closed { @likemalik }

There had to be Halloween music in a record store. It’s a music store…. Breanne was deep in a top ten list, eyes darting from her phone to the rows of cds in front of her. She decided to ask the closest person near for any advice. “Do you know if any of these are any good for Halloween? I only know three of these options. I’m trying to enhance the spooky vibes.” She turned her phone to show the list she was using. “I know a few of these, but are the others worth buying?”

When it comes to the soundtrack of his Halloween, Malik’s more wont to curate a playlist than rely on the half-baked likes of “Halloween Monster Hits Volume Two.” Granted, there was just no beating the ambience of crystal clear guitar riffs and the crackling of spinning vinyl, so they find themself at Feel Good Records, fingers rifling through the spines of second-hand albums.

He cranes his neck towards Breanne, lips pursed as his eyes find the screen of her phone. They place a finger on the screen, scrolling for a moment. “Can’t really go wrong with Misfits anything,” they confirm as number seven comes into view. “Wait... Do they seriously not have Rob Zombie anywhere on this list!? That’s like... Halloween blasphemy, nah. Come with me.”

every silver-struck cloud came with sacrifice . jaden’s childlike , juvenile disregard for anything remotely difficult had culminated in one of the sickest ways imaginable ; the universe hadn’t needed to be quite so hands-on when teaching him a lesson . still , despite needing to pull himself up by his bootstraps and face the world one day at a time throughout the last three years , there remained a twinge of immaturity beyond a vast star wars collection ( action figures mint-in-box ) and an obsession with the x-men comics . perhaps it was why they had never been built to last — how was jaden ever meant to empathise with hardship when , back when his nose was adorned with a septum ring and he stole his mother’s eyeliner on the sly , he hadn’t experienced a lick of it ??

“ i’m only playing around , “ a wave of his hand gestured to the other as he began loading slices onto the plate . being a father and — he hoped , after everything — a fiancé didn’t allow space for his childlike nature , his innate need to slob out with grease and mozzarella dribbling down his chin . an impolite , sizeable bite was taken from the side of the crust ; “ although you have a point there — all that waltzing isn’t as easy as it once was with a hunk of metal for a leg . “

Malik tends to be mindful in keeping pity out of his gaze when it’s cast towards Jaden. Maybe it isn’t so much pity as it is concern, a quiet sort of remorse. It tastes bitter on the back of his tongue, leaving him stinging with helplessness. They try to push it aside with a shrug of their shoulders. Thankfully, they have plenty of experience forcing a smile. They wear one now, its falseness undetectable in its subtlety.

Malik slides the stack of napkins on the table a little closer Jaden’s way, wordlessly as not to draw too much attention. Their way of looking after Jaden has always been subtle, after all. A nudge here and a push there all with enough razzle-dazzle distractions to keep Jaden from becoming too wary of the elusive aide 

“C’mon, man, I was playin’ too... Maybe you just need one’a them oil cans. Y’know, like tin man, with that satisfying as hell little pumping noise... Okay, it’d actually be kinda sick to sample that pumping sound into a song or an intro or something. We could do a whole ‘Wizard of Oz’ bit with it— dibs on Cowardly Lion.”

❝ We won't be a problem anymore... We were just passing through. ❞

it started as a joke, but then malik had to commit to the bit. the combination of their spot-on french accent and a friend in the wig business sealed malik’s fate. 

        jealousy settles in at the idea of kaya coming to dinner stoned when soggy was far too nervous to take a hit in his car beforehand.  it’s nuzzling between furrowed brows but the feeling isn’t enough to wipe away his pure amusement at the fact. after his eyes scan the room in attempt to read if anyone else had picked up on her intoxication,  his face positions into one that says   do you have more    without, hopefully, making it obvious to his mothers.   ( or malik, for that matter.  )   who was undoubtedly the golden child,   a fact that connor would be covetous about if he wasn’t equally aware that, with all the stress he put on the family,  their moms needed a personality like malik’s.  

           and it showed.  especially when they hop out of their seat to set up dinner properly while soggy had been trying to telepathically ask kaya where she got the bud from.     “  i’m good with just water. ”    is his first response, though quickly followed by   “  actually, let me help.  ”      while he’s certain they were capable of handling re-heating the food on their own,  it beats any small talk that could come up, and hopefully forgives the fact that he was late.

     it was peculiar to think there was a time where the five of them could enjoy dinner like a real family and less like strangers.  when the laughs outweighed the bickering, they were younger then. naivety was prominent.  he scoots his chair back,  the sound scraping against their floors as he stands on his feet.    “  water,  kay ?  ”      because,  you know,  cottonmouth.

There’s always been mischief shared between the youngest Braxtons. Oftentimes Malik’s been the hand to force them apart by the shells of their ears, both squirming and griping as they continued reaching for each other. There’s a table between them now, and Kaya takes full advantage of the obstacle and the lightning-quick glance the firstborn shares with their moms. She shoves both middle fingers in Soggy’s direction, a shooting star gesture caught only by the tail end when the rest of the family turn back to the scene, just as Kaya’s lowering her hands into her lap. Her smirk remains, though, and it widens as the softest of snorts jumps from her nose. Habitual as her derision towards her brother might be, this time she’s nothing but playful, her edges softened by the haze inducing high.

It’s not so playful when she rolls her eyes. Malik and Connor teaming up means that she needs to compensate, too. Her limbs feel heavy when she drags herself out of her chair. The legs clatter and scrape against the floor, and Kaya has to catch it by the backrest before it topples over completely. “Whoops– yeah. Hold on, I’ll… ‘M c’ming.”

In the kitchen, Kaya finds her usual place at the counter. She practically dumps her upper half onto it, elbows knocking a little on the hard side while her fingers thread. Thin bands of corroding metal standing in for silver and gold clink together quietly. “So… Scale of one to ten, how shitty’s this thing gonna be, huh?” ( @likemalik)

It’s not the fact Kaya’s high. Hell, all the Braxton siblings have a tendency to indulge, and Malik would be a hypocrite to pretend he doesn’t enjoy lighting up every now and again, especially not when a good sativa high can be a primary source of inspiration. No, it’s the fact that she’s managed it with a total disregard for anyone else in the fucking house— not that that should come as a surprise.

All boiled down, it isn’t quite anger Malik feels; it’s envy. Marijuana aside, their siblings both have their fair share of vices, one of which is undoubtedly selfishness, total disregard for anyone but themsleves. It’s a luxury Malik’s never truly been able to indulge in, not when he’s too busy picking up the pieces their siblings leave behind in their collective paths of destruction, whether imploding or exploding.

He’s about to give them both some credit. At least they’ve showed up, even shuffled along after Malik to lend helping hands. In fact, Malik is about to, even if only with a meager thanks. That is before Kaya opens her mouth and Malik feels their own tighten around a locked jaw.

“Jesus, Kaya,” he’s quick to spit out before a sigh slips from his mouth. The three of them are having dinner with their mothers, not picking up trash on the side of the road as some kind of correctional community service sentence. “Leave if you want.” Malik rolls their shoulders, nonchalant despite the pointed, stinging sharpness in their tone. “If you’re gonna have a shitty attitude anyway…”

( @scggy )

   NOT EVERYTHING IS A SIGN.    a lesson she had to learn over the years,   not even when a twenty dollar bill seemed to be literally floating towards her  ,   and especially not when that twenty dollar bill was followed by someone rushing behind it.  she knew it wasn’t for her so the thought of pocketing the lost money hadn’t even crossed her mind.  not that she would if it did,  with a guilty conscious that could swallow her whole.       

          “  you kidding ?  this is the divine paying it forward after i spent half of my savings on Fenty by Rihanna.  ”     a completely stable decision that she does not regret one bit,  no matter how loud her mother yelled at her for it.  her arm extends following the jest,  handing it back over to them.       “  god,  i’m such a good person,  i’m like a hotter mother teresa sometimes.  ”   AND OH SO HUMBLE.       she pauses, in awe of her own goodness  before  -      “  wait, you’re in that band,  ”      or      was,  she doesn’t keep up with the local bands as much as she should .    still,  it’s not a question,   her head nodding upwards  knowingly as she recognized them.       “  hold on,  we got sort of a  i scratch your back,  you scratch mine,  thing going on here,  don’t we ?     i gave you back your money,  so you’ll,    you’ll play some music for my birthday next month.  tit for tit.  ”   whatever it’s called.

Malik is now less concerned with the fact he may be out twenty dollars and more concerned over the fact the phrase “Fenty by Rihanna” is redundant. Of course Fenty is by Rihanna. Who else could possibly own the brand Fenty? Malik may look like a guy’s guy with today’s outfit of choice (a Ramones tee and ripped jeans) but they’d thought surely the ear cuff chain with a star and moon dangling from their left side would be enough of a give away. They’re damn sure what Fenty is.

Before that can be properly addressed, though, Adiya’s onto the next topic. Malik’s scratching their head debating whether or not to get into Mother Teresa’s ties to colonialism and White imperialism before Adiya’s moving on to a far more conversational topic.

“Tit for—” He decides against correcting her, though his facial expression is a clear indication that something is very wrong with the way that sentence came out of Adiya’s mouth. 

Behind an intrusive camera lens, Beth wears a grin Malik is most likely more than acquainted with. It’s as toothy as it is cheeky, and spells out mischief in every glint caught in her coffee-brown eyes. Pausing the recording, Beth lowers the device and holds out the bill, her brows hopping.

“That was quite the show,” she says, referring, of course, to the spectacular chase– though the musical number hadn’t been half bad. “Oh, no way. This–” she wiggles her camera in the air, wrist lazy so that it hangs by her shoulder, “–is priceless. More than enough for the twenty, trust me.”

“Aye, yo— How you always get this shit recorded? Damn…” The question is mostly rhetorical which means Malik’s really asking himself and the wrathful God that put Beth Lapointe in the line of fire almost every time Malik’s managed to look monumentally dumb. He likes to think the only times are in Beth’s archives of blackmail-worthy videos. No one needs to know how much he sings in the shower. The process may or may not involve a colorful shower cap.

sparrow wasn’t the most generous of individuals . they had been raised that way — the youngest of a gaggle of children , it was survival of the fittest . stealing the last morsels of food from their brother or ‘ borrowing ‘ clothing from their sister was the only way they were able to get ahead , what with an absent father and a mother with some mystery illness that only became clear in their adulthood . the rustle of a bill across concrete perked their ears — the scurrying of a mouse to the senses of a cat — and , without hesitation , black-painted fingers swiped the offering from the ground as it surfed the piques and troughs of autumn wind . 

“ and how does that benefit me ?? “ a voice , roughened by ten years of nicotine addiction , responded to the fumbling musician , “ i could be a bitch and keep twenty . i’m not above it , “ it was one of the reasons all of the siblings had splintered ; emmett , bless his heart , was at the end of his tether , rollo was heartbroken by sparrow’s shunning of their half-sibling , and all hopes of creating anything of worth between them and lyla was dead in the dirt . “ to me , that looks like a you problem , “ 

The Moores are like a family of cartoon villains that crawled into this dimension to wreak havoc on all the other poor bastard souls trapped in Roswell, a whisper of the wrong side of the tracks, a Boo Ridley-esque myth manifested in the Tripp’s Trailer Park lot.

Coming face-to-face with Sparrow Moore is like meeting a demon at a crossroads, and Malik can feel his spine chill at the sight of that snakeish whisper of a smirk. They let out a breath to steady themself, more out of annoyance than superstition.

“Guess it is,” they agree with a nonchalant roll of their shoulders. He purses his lips in thought, eyes glancing up, head bobbing as if agreeing with the silent input of a higher power. “Until karma comes back around. Then it’s definitely a you problem, so.”

it’s not every day that anything more than a tumbleweed or stray piece of garbage blows in with the wind . so when sight catches hold of the paper with a twinge of green , the tip of her boot hammers down on , clamping it between the rubber sole and the pavement . just as body bends to pick it up , pulling the thin bill between digits does the breathless body appear . a soft giggle at the sight of malik , winded , clear from the chase of this runaway twenty . if it had been anyone else , the bill would have found it’s way right back to the desperate owner’s paws , but just because it’s them , juni chooses to have some fun with it . ❝ hmm , i don’t know . that doesn’t sound like a very good trade to me . ❞

Malik feels his lips sag into an unimpressed frown before his brain really gives them passage. Of course Juno’s going to fuck with them a little. It seems to be the foundation of their relationship: playful jabs more tickle than strike. That is when the two of them weren’t ganging up on Jaden, at least. But with the third member of the unlikely trio absent, they’re left to poke and prod at each other.

“Alright, alright, so we split it fifty-fifty, and I give you a ten. That’s as generous as I’m gettin’. Otherwise, I’m losing money.” Granted, if Juni pockets the bill, they’re definitely losing money.

it was a strange predicament — although the male was far from being the smartest tool in the shed , he knew that the situation wasn’t normal in the slightest and that the strange side-eyes and quick walks away from a half-naked lunatic were more than warranted . malik giving him half a second of attention , stopping to hear him out , was the most luck he’d gotten all morning , chasing down any soft-faced individual in the hopes they’d help him acquire the garments he needed . there was no way he could return to the ranch looking like that , not with the flocks of school trips and unannounced inspectors . 

“ red , if y’ can help it . “ his favorite colour , courtesy of an off-hand comment from his mother all those years ago ; perhaps it was to mirror her fire hair , or maybe she had been lying to her oldest son when his naive voice had asked in his childhood . still , the memory had dictated his tastes into the days where his own temples had whitened , where the crinkles of his eyes reminded him of his passing age ( thirty-five , to anyone asking ) . “ — what’s that you’re sayin’ about eyes ?? “ 

| ↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ |

Malik only shakes their head and lets a winded, soft laugh tickle past their lips. “One sec, man,” he says before letting the door slip shut behind him and walking into the shop. Finding something red in Roswell is much like finding the hay in a stack surrounding a needle. Everything in this town seems to clamber for attention, and the bright flannels, polos, and T-shirts show for it.

They’ve got a basic cotton button-down clenched in one fist by the time Malik leaves the store, receipt folded and tucked into his back pocket. “Think this’ll suffice,” he offers as he holds out the shirt for Striker to take. “I mean it smells like hand-me-down shirt, but. Beggars can’t be choosers and what-not.”

there was a bittersweetness to discussing their current situations . once , him and malik had been speaking of those very realities as though they were fairytales — they would speak of how jaden possessed an insatiable desire to be a father , would fantasise over potential egg-donors , would discuss how they wished the sci-fi movies jaden so desperately adored could be real so they could grow a baby in a test tube . although their futures , ultimately , hadn’t been formed together , they could be shared , with malik merely on the periphery of everything the IT technician had dreamed .

perhaps it was better that way , given juniper and jaden’s recent tendency to hang at each other’s throats . they never had been the best at communication , although that fact had never taken away from his affections from the woman . it took a lot for his heart to take a vacation ; that much was evident in how close he kept his ex , even if they now shared the title of mere friends .

once the other returned , jaden lifted his nose and waved his hand in a royal bow . “ you better not go for my arm , you menace . i have enough medical bills as it is !! you’d be paying for them — plus extra large pizzas for the rest of my life as collateral !! “ giggling , he began disassembling the tower and spreading their wares across the coffee table like some travelling salesman , “ i don’t even know where to start .. i mean , it’s a banquet fit for the king i am , “

| ↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ |

Malik lets out a snort. It’s halfhearted as it usually is in Jaden’s company. Every punchline comes with a twinge to Malik’s gut, grim reminders of Jaden’s complete disregard for his own damn well-being. Part of Malik envies it, watching Jaden flaunt so carefree while Malik had been forced to grow up a touch too quickly. Step up, be responsible, lead by example as is the tragic flaw of every eldest sibling. But Malik’s steadier, more logical side offers that maybe growing up isn’t such a bad thing if it means an unshakable sense of self-preservation, something Jaden’s crucially lacking.

Thankfully in learning that self-preservation, Malik has become a master of playing things off, tucking frowns behind the mask of a lopsided smile. It’s one they wear now, snagging a couple of paper plates and napkins from the pantry before Jaden can make a grease-stained Picasso out of Malik’s living room couch.

“Yeah, thank God we didn’t get anything with ham. Otherwise I’m pretty sure it’d be considered cannibalism.” They raise a brow though an amused smirk stays in place on their lips. “Forreal, man, do you take a day off? Waltzin’ around like the Queen of Sheba all the time must get tirin’ on your ankles at some point.”

It feels like it’s been a lifetime since Malik’s had a crowd all to themself. While they don’t necessarily crave the star power that most musicians foam at the mouth for, the appreciation he receives from a solo act is rewarding in its own right. The tips from locals and tourists alike don’t hurt, either. A nice street performance keeps his heart pumping steadily and proudly in his chest, leaves a pleasant buzz in his fingertips. Which apparently also means losing a bit of sensation...

While he’s managed to slip his guitar case shut, click the latches into place, a twenty dollar bill slips free and takes pleasure in a little joy ride on the wind. Malik’s chasing after it, their legs striding and scurrying in an attempt to catch up.

who: open @roswellstarters location: anywhere! 

Patience was a virtue that Reyna did not posses. They were uncertain how long they had been waiting but it was evident in the way they had begun to paced around with their arms crossed against their chest that it had been enough for them to grow restless. Not like that was saying much. A few more long, excruciating seconds pass before they finally call out,   “Are you almost done?”

| ↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ |

Malik’s eyebrow shoots up in a pointed arch the moment those words reach their ears. He looks up at Reyna, expression frozen in sheer disinterest combined with a hearty helping of disdain. His fingers pause on the metal of the tuning peg they’d been twisting, eyes rolling.

soggy braxton.

               in comparison to almost every other day, soggy’s anxiety comes to a rest when he’s around his family .    even with this dinner looming among him;  while there’s tension formed in multiple other ways:  it’s not born from apprehension.  there aren’t as many harsh thoughts he needs to subdue beforehand,  it was relief.  

                 much needed relief     since he’s expectedly late.      “  sorry  ,   i’m sorry .  ”   a genuine expression spoken as soon as he steps foot into his family home, shutting the door behind him.   expressed even before his eyes are laid at the family waiting around the dinner table.    he has to pick his battles when it pertains to explaining his tardiness.    justifying it with   ‘ i was late to work so i had to stay later to make up for it  ’ ,  sounds like a segue for a lecture on responsibility        ( whether it will be given by malik or his moms is the question ).      “  i’m sorry,  i was stuck in traffic.  ”   a  lie that he doubts anyone will believe as he approaches his mothers, greeting them with a peck on the cheek.    “  malik,  man,  looking good.  ”   he places a hand on his elder sibling’s shoulder,  sitting in a chair beside them.   the same spot he sat in every time the five of them would sit for dinner.  speaking of which:    “  no kaya yet  ?  ”    a clearing of his throat,  perfect time for a joke (and ice breaker).    “  pretty inconsiderate if you ask me.  ”    @kayahq

✻ ✻ ✻

Sky Above is an asset in a collection of ways: It pays generously, considering Kaya mostly lounges about and talks clients’ ears off, Astra’s sweet and, above all, she lets Kaya take freebies home. Little sachets of dried rose and lavender sit snuggly between Kaya’s folded clothes, and there’s the perpetual smokiness of burning incense clouding her room, even with an equally perpetually open window.

Her roommates aren’t exactly sticklers for teetotalism, they know she smokes up every now and then, when the itch is dull enough to abate after a toke or two. The open window is a cordiality, the rest, a potent attempt to rid her clothes and hair of the clinginess of weed. It works– tends to, anyway. It’s all about the timing. 

Kaya’s never been too good at that. Malik had taken care of those finer details in the past: Their little sis only had to parrot whatever time coach had said to attend meets, competitions, even practice, and they would be yanking her disorganised ass out the front door and into the car. Now, she struggles to find an easy enough routine to stay on top of. Particularly when her thoughts are as cloudy as November skies.

Today they’re practically in a fog. There’s no way in hell Kaya’s surviving an evening like this sober; maybe she’d been a little generous packing her blunt, and maybe she’d nodded off after the last tangy inhale. The good thing, at least, is that she’s far too stoned to entertain the panic that would otherwise throttle her jackrabbit heart, and she arrives with a languid, drowsy gait. “Heey,” she greets her family, pink eyes fading back to white (praise the eye drops jostling about in her backpack) as she sinks, lazy smile in place, into her usual seat. “My, uh, driver was, like, so annoying. He kept saying that I had to pay, even though I’d done the thing where you pay once you book…” she trails off with a vague wave of her hand, expression utterly dismissive. 

@likemalik​

| ↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ |

There’s a lecture on the tip of Malik’s tongue. It’s one Connor’s been on the receiving end of too many times, and Malik is fairly sure he’d be able to communicate it with only a look. It’s one that very clearly says: stop throwing your sister under the bus. It’s all they can manage to communicate before they’re interrupted by the creak of the front door.

Usually in this context Kaya’s presence would be a relief, but as she continues speaking, Malik’s eyes continue narrowing. It isn’t a surprise, really, but she’s high. While she may be meticulous about keeping the pungent, sour smell of bud away, the slow drag of her words and the slight dilation of her pupils is enough to indicate, to Malik at least, she’s swallowed down some kind of depressant.

What they don’t understand is how Kaya thinks she’s getting it passed their moms. Lori’s a nurse for God’s sake… And while she does flash a knowing glance Malik’s way, neither of them say anything. It’s become commonplace in this house, even more so given the siblings’ age. They were all adults now, older, wiser, and perfectly capable of addressing an issue and confessing truths when the situation calls for it. It’s one of the few things Malik tends to disagree with their parents about.

“Right,” Malik says succinctly, deciding not to dwell much more than that.

better off duds ! ( open for — @roswellstarters· )

the plaid shirt  — one of two , close in color to the point of being indistinguishable — hung in shreds from striker’s body . ribbons draped over arms , clinging by threads from an oversized torso ; this time around , instead of being attacked by any of puhlman’s livestock , he had lost a one-way fight with a barbed wire fence yet lived to tell the tale . no shoes , no shirt , no service — crudely tattooed skin exposed , he lingered in the doorway of ‘ better off duds ‘ , awaiting a familiar customer for him to extort . “ hey — can y’ help an old guy out ?? “ the male questioned , gesturing to striped attire that resembled that of a scarecrow or a character plucked from ‘ friday the 13th ‘ , “ — ‘n go grab me a shirt from in there or somethin’ , just so i ain’t walkin’ around with my tits out . can’t give people this type a’ show for free , now , can i ?? “ 

| ↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ |

“It’d be awfully charitable of you if ya did,” Malik retorts with an easy roll of his shoulders, though the loose, friendly smile that pulls up onto their lips is an indication they’re not really trying to pimp out Striker’s bare tits to the public.

He’d wandered off to Better Off Duds on a quest for a DIY project, something to cover in silver spikes and safety pins, but helping out the bare-torso’d supplier of his farm fresh eggs seems like a far nobler cause.

“Yeah, yeah, I got’chu. You lookin’ for somethin’ in a specific color? I think a nice soft blue could really bring out your eyes.” Okay, yeah, now they’re fucking with him. Just a little.

Malik is almost entirely convinced now that their siblings are utterly allergic to punctuality or anything close to it. 

Malik and his mothers have already exhausted the typical points of casual conversation: Malik’s perpetually non-existent love life, his music students’ progress, the latest home renovation projects, and Out Of This World’s sale where his moms, of course, bought far more books than was completely necessary.

Now all three of them are sitting at the table, Malik shuffling awkwardly every so often as all the Braxtons present’s eyes flash to the clock on the wall again and again. Each of them have a cup of chamomile tea in hand, the enchiladas on the stove growing colder with each passing moment.

“I’m sure they’re on their way. Just... stuck in a little traffic,” Malik tries to assure through a tight, unnatural little smile. Really, they’re more convinced that Connor and Kaya arrived at the same time and are now a tangle of wrestling bodies rolling around the driveway.

malik’s home !  ( closed for — @likemalik······ )

although malik and jaden hadn’t been united romantically in a number of years , they continued to hang off of each other , a terrible twosome that had spanned the decades . exes were meant to nurse heartbreak . they were meant to mutter beneath their breaths , to spread unfounded rumours , to spin the yarn and compete for the support of a fractured friend group ; these boys , though , hadn’t a vile word to say about one another , and spent hours on each other’s couches to this day , bullshitting the world away . “ so , we’re at the chewing stage now — jacie is wanting to chow down on everything and anything , and that includes me , it includes juni .. it even includes buffy . i mean , hasn’t that girl been through enough ?? “ idle chatter filled the space between calling the pizza delivery place and having the driver pull up on the street outside . the ding of a doorbell stopped him in his tracks , an arm extended towards the door , “ — i’m the guest , dude . i’m not getting it , “ 

| ↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ |

It isn’t so bizarre to hear Jaden waxing on about his parental endeavors. Malik had always thought Jaden would be a good dad. And probably a damn fun one given his seemingly incurable Peter Pan syndrome. But still, Malik always finds himself wondering if parenthood should be something on the brain. They and Jaden are the same age, after all, and maybe it should be time to settle down... Then he remembers his hypothetical kid would be referring to one of their siblings as “Uncle Soggy” and the daydream quickly fades from view.

Before they can say anything to Jaden about the matter, though, the ring of the bell has them turning to the door, then to Jaden looking utterly unimpressed. Jaden hasn’t been a “guest” in Malik’s home in years, and vice versa. The two are practically unofficial roommates with how much time they spend in each other’s spaces.

“Yeah, yeah,” Malik grumbles, rising to his feet. He’s pleasant enough answering the door, signing off on the pizza, and carrying it inside. “Here you go, your royal highness,” they drawl, tucking one hand behind their back, the other holding the bottom of the pizza boxes out towards Jaden as if presenting a silver platter. “S’time for us to enter the chewing phase of the evening. ‘Cause if we don’t get into this pizza in the next two minutes, I’mma be the next one tryna bite your arm off.”