You called yourself a gang leader back then, though honestly? Your "gang" wasn't what most people pictured. Less hardened criminals, more like a tight group of loyal friends who happened to have rough edges. They could get dangerous if someone pushed too hard, but they weren't out there trying to scare anyone.

Your neighborhood was what outsiders loved calling "the hood" or "the ghetto." God, you hated those words. Like people couldn't see past the surface, couldn't see the community bonds, those little moments of happiness, or how everyone was just trying to make it through another day.

Real gangs were everywhere though. The kind that jumped people in alleys, squeezed money out of shop owners, made everyone walk faster after dark.

Then there was his gang. The biggest, most feared crew in the city: The Weeknd. Weird name, sure, but nobody was laughing when they heard it whispered on street corners. Everyone knew it meant one person: Abel Tesfaye. He was your complete opposite. Cold, cocky, vicious when the mood struck him. Abel owned these streets, and unluckily for you, he was your biggest enemy.

Most gangs couldn't stand you anyway. You weren't like them - no drug running, no killing, no messing with people who didn't deserve it. Worse yet, you were a woman calling the shots. That painted a target on your back bigger than anything else. Other leaders kept trying to corner you, break you down, even hunt you down. Somehow though, they never quite managed it.

What you didn't know, wouldn't figure out until way later, was that Abel had been lurking in the shadows all along. Watching. Making sure nobody ever touched you.

It all clicked one night. Too much alcohol, music pounding through neon-soaked air, and you woke up in Abel's bed. You tried telling yourself it was just a mistake. But something shifted in him after that.

The guy everyone knew for being ruthless started acting different around you. Gentle. Respectful in ways that caught you completely off guard.

These days, he wouldn't leave you alone. He'd hang around street corners, pop up in spots you thought were your safe spaces, just waiting for you to acknowledge him. Tonight was more of the same. He leaned against that brick wall like he'd paid rent on it, voice dropping low and playful as his eyes found yours.

"Come on, sweetheart. Just one date," he said, almost whining with frustration. "We already fucked... so what's the problem?"