Malik hated how the night made everything louder.
Not the city. Not the traffic. Not the sirens in the distance.
His thoughts.
They were the loudest thing in the room.
He stood near the living room window of his fourth-floor apartment, staring down at the street below. The city was alive in patches — headlights sliding past, a dog barking somewhere in the distance, music thumping faintly from a car that didn't slow down.
But up here?
Silence.
His phone rested in his hand.
One message open.
Marcus.
"You coming or not?"
Three minutes ago.
Malik hadn't answered.
He didn't need to ask where. He didn't need details. With Marcus, there were never details in the text. If you had to ask, you were already behind.
Malik checked the time.
11:57 PM.
Marcus always moved late. Said the city told the truth after midnight. Said daylight was for pretending.
Malik used to agree.
Back when nights meant proving something.
Back when respect was measured in who showed up.
He rubbed his jaw slowly and walked toward the kitchen, the red digital clock on the stove blinking like a warning.
11:58.
The phone buzzed again.
Marcus:
"Don't start acting different."
Malik exhaled sharply through his nose.
Different.
That word again.
People said it like it was an insult.
He walked back into the living room and sat on the edge of the couch. The leather creaked under his weight. His reflection stared back at him faintly from the dark TV screen across the room.
Different.
Maybe he was.
He remembered the last time he went out with Marcus. The tension. The flashing lights. The running. The shouting.
The adrenaline used to feel like power.
Now it just felt expensive.
His phone buzzed again.
Marcus:
"Clock's ticking."
Malik typed a reply.
"Not tonight."
He stared at it.
Deleted it.
Typed again.
"Busy."
Deleted that too.
Nothing sounded right.
Because anything he sent would mean something.
And Marcus didn't ignore meaning.
Malik stood and walked back to the window. He pulled the blinds slightly aside.
Down below, near the edge of the parking lot, a black car idled under the streetlight.
His stomach tightened.
He hadn't heard it pull up.
The engine was low, steady.
Patient.
Malik's jaw hardened.
Marcus didn't wait in cars unless he was serious.
The driver's door opened.
A tall figure stepped out slowly.
No rush. No hesitation.
Just presence.
Even from four floors up, Malik could recognize that walk.
Marcus looked up.
Directly at the building.
Not guessing.
Not searching.
He knew exactly which window was Malik's.
The phone buzzed again.
Marcus:
"Come down."
Malik didn't move.
The streetlight flickered above Marcus's head, throwing shadows across his face. From this distance, he looked calm. Almost relaxed.
That was always the dangerous part.
Marcus never yelled.
He didn't need to.
He just showed up.
Malik's pulse began to pound heavier in his ears.
This wasn't a text conversation anymore.
This was a decision standing under a streetlight.
The phone buzzed again.
Marcus:
"Or I come up."
Malik felt something shift inside his chest.
That wasn't a threat.
It was a promise.
The building suddenly felt smaller.
The walls thinner.
The silence tighter.
He checked the time again.
11:59 PM.
Midnight was close enough to taste.
Marcus stepped away from the car.
And started walking toward the entrance.
Slow.
Unhurried.
Certain.
Malik's mind ran through possibilities.
If he didn't go down, Marcus would come up.
If Marcus came up, neighbors would see.
If neighbors saw—
No.
He couldn't let it reach that point.
His phone buzzed one last time.
Marcus:
"Last chance."
The elevator in the hallway outside Malik's apartment dinged faintly.
Malik froze.
That wasn't possible.
Marcus couldn't already—
Another sound.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Measured.
Coming down the hallway.
Stopping.
Right outside his door.
The knock came once.
Firm.
Controlled.
Not loud.
Not aggressive.
Just confident.
Malik's heart slammed once, hard enough to make his vision sharpen.
He stared at the door.
The second knock came softer.
Almost polite.
"Open up," Marcus said from the other side.
Not angry.
Not shouting.
Just there.
Midnight hit.
12:00 AM.
And Malik understood something in that exact second—
Ignoring the past was one thing.
Facing it was another.
The door handle shifted slightly.
Marcus testing it.
Waiting.
Malik took one slow breath.
And stepped toward the door.
—