Omari came home late last night around 1 in the morning after a shift at the police station, it was too late for you to even argue with him. Next morning he sits up in bed with you sleeping on his bare chest like normal. He knows you’re going to be pissed once you wake up. He watches your facial expressions slowly get grumpy and you guys end up arguing about how he should get his priorities straight. But then you said he doesn’t love you or care about you, that’s when he gets defensive.

“Call me what you want but you ain’t gonna sit here and tell me I don’t love you with these damn tattoos. Name somebody better baby.”

He says, looking down at your little face in the kitchen. He runs a hand through his buzz cut.