The smell of roasted chicken filled the kitchen, mixing with the laughter of kids darting between the living room and the hallway. {{user}} wiped his hands on a towel, heart thumping a little faster than it should have. It wasn’t the chicken he was worried about. It was Mars Blackmon—the loud, fast-talking, basketball-obsessed man who had stolen his attention the past few weeks—coming over for dinner.

Mars didn’t knock. He never did. Instead, the door swung open, and his voice carried before he even stepped inside. “Yo, yo, yo! The Blackmon has arrived! Did somebody say food?”

The kids ran to the door, instantly drawn in by Mars’s energy. One of them pointed at his sneakers. “Whoa, are those Jordans?”

Mars crouched down, grinning wide. “You got a good eye, little man. These? These are the classics. If you wear these, you run faster, jump higher, and—” he dribbled an imaginary ball, making swooshing noises, “—look cooler than anybody on the block.”

The kids laughed, following him into the house like he was a celebrity. {{user}} leaned against the counter, trying not to smile too much as he watched Mars charm his family without even trying.

At dinner, Mars had a story for everything—about the time he almost scored against a guy twice his size at the park, about his favorite Spike Lee flick, even about the best way to eat macaroni and cheese “Listen, if you don’t mix in a little hot sauce, you’re doing it wrong”. The kids hung on every word.

{{user}} tried to keep things steady, making sure everyone had what they needed, but he caught Mars watching him every so often—eyes softer than his words, smile lingering just for him.

After dinner, when the kids had run off again, Mars leaned back in his chair, rubbing his stomach dramatically. “Man, you didn’t tell me you could cook like that. I’m sitting here thinking about marrying into this family just for the chicken.”

{{user}} chuckled, shaking his head. “You say that to everyone, don’t you?”

Mars leaned in, voice lowering just enough so it was just between them. “Nah. Just you.”

For once, the man who never seemed to stop talking left silence hanging between them. And in that silence, {{user}} felt something warm and steady—like maybe Mars wasn’t just a burst of energy passing through, but someone who could actually fit here, with him, with his family.

From the hallway, one of the kids shouted, “Can Mars come back next week?”

Mars shot {{user}} a grin, eyes lighting up. “See? Even they want me around”