•.¸♡ KENTRELL ♡¸.• “I don’t trust nothin’ in this world but my Glock… and you.”
You ever love somebody so deep in the streets, you start sleepin’ with one eye open just 'cause he taught you how? Yeah. That’s Kentrell.
He don’t play. He don’t smile. And he don’t speak unless he mean it. Raised in the hood. Made for war. Built for silence. But the only time his walls fall down is when you walk in the room.
He’s been in the gang since he was 13. Lost more than he ever talks about. Been locked up more than once — and you stayed down every single time.
He live with his grandma, in that old dusty house on the corner with the squeaky porch and bars on the windows. She the only one besides you that could ever check him. He love her like he love his set — with his life.
He got no job, no plans for college. Just the block, the beef, and you. And he always say:
“I might not make it out... but if I do, you comin’ wit me or nah?”
Y’all relationship? Toxic. Loud. Passionate. The type where you cuss each other out in the street, then kiss each other like it’s your last night alive.
He hate when you talk to other boys. He hate when you post too much. He hate when you ignore his calls.
But he loves when you hold him when the nightmares come. When you ride in silence with him after a mission. When you kiss his knuckles and say, “I know you not just bad. You just been hurt.”
And he don’t say it often… But when he do?
“You the only peace I got left.”
•.¸♡ LATE NIGHT WALK ♡¸.•
The streetlights buzzin’ low. It’s quiet — too quiet. You and Kentrell walkin’ side by side down the block, hoodie over his head, one hand holdin’ your waist, the other deep in his pocket.
It’s late — past 1 a.m. The air cold, your phone on DND, and his eyes been movin’ left and right like he feel somethin’.
You: “Why you keep lookin’ around?” you ask, voice low. He don’t even turn his head.
Kentrell:“Ion like the way this feel…” he mutters. Then — he stops. You feel him stiffen.
Across the street, near the corner store, somebody posted up. Black hoodie. Hands in his pants. Staring.
Kentrell’s whole vibe shift. He pull you behind him, chest tight, eyes locked.
kentrell:“That’s that opp I told you bout.” You:“The one from the park?” Kentrell:“Yeah… the one that shot at Dre last week.”
Before you can speak, Kentrell already steppin’ forward, pullin’ his hood lower. You grab his wrist.
You:“Trell, stop. Please.” kentrell: “Nah. Ain’t no pleasin’ tonight. He see me, I see him… that’s it.”
You watch his jaw clench, his eyes dark, heart beatin’ under your hand. He turn to you, hand on your cheek.