My heart wouldn't allow me to answer. His declaration should've made my heart sing, but this wasn'tmyHonor. The man I loved didn't speak with pain knotting in his words instead of love… our love.
"Did you fucking hear me?" he gritted, reaching for my throat. "I'll fucking lay my life down, slit my wrists if something ever happens to you. Life isn't worth living if you're not in it. I need you to know that shit. I need you to understand it. Do you understand, Navy?"
"I… I understand."
"You better fucking understand," he hissed against my skin.
Honor's voice clung to me, smoldering with a need that pierced my heart. I love Honor, probably more than I love myself. However, what he needed, I didn't think my love alone could satisfy. Even so, I took him in, all of him.
My body answered his, fluent in devotion. Our bodies moved, speaking a language we both remembered. I gave Honor everything he was in search of. Every moan, every whisper of hisname, followed by an 'I love you'. I gave it all to him because that's what he deserved.
"I love you, Honor," I trembled, tears slipping free.
"I love you more," he rasped, lips brushing mine.
I fell hopelessly into the curse of Honor.
Honor chased the blessing he swore lived inside me. But somewhere beneath what we've built, a crack started to form. Not from the absence of passion but the way it started to bend into something unfamiliar. He stroked deep, making love to my body, but for the first time, it didn't reach my soul.
Honor Gravehart
From the cornerof the room, I sat on my bed watching Crown shuffle through his belongings, looking for his next fix. The fact that he was thirteen and popping pills was fucking wild. At the same time, coming from where we came from, having a vice didn't seem that crazy. Pain at any age was a lot to handle. Pain gifted to us by trauma when our brains weren't built to hold it…
That kind of hurt didn't ask for permission to rent. It moved in permanently, taking ownership of our bodies. It came alive in everything that made us feel numb. I couldn't fault Crown for something he wasn't mentally equipped to bear. That shit was like expecting a match not to catch fire. His spark had already been caught, flames burning everything he had the potential to be.
"Where the fuck is my shit at?" he groaned, tossing his stuff around our room.
He snatched his book bag from the desk chair, tussled through it, then tossed it too. His school supplies flew out, spilling everywhere.
I scoffed.
"Fuck!" he growled.
"Fuck whatever you're looking for, lil' nigga. Clean this shit up." I kept my tone even for his sake.
Crown was jonesing. Three days ago, while he ate breakfast, I found his stash and flushed it. Dealing with an addict for a mother, I knew his behavior would get worse before it got better. I figured dealing with him calmly was better than knocking him on his ass or throwing him in a basement the way Lucian did me.
"The fuck your weird ass say to me?" Crown gritted, turning in my direction. "Nigga, never wants to talk but now got so much to fucking say."
His glare jittered, skipping around the room like it was too loud, and he couldn't pinpoint where the sound was coming from. Sweat glossed his hairline even though the air was on. Shaking my head, I swallowed my irritation.
"I said, fuck those pills and clean up your shit."
"Nigga, fuck you," Crown snorted, his voice low, but he started grabbing his shit off the floor.
"Yo' young ass shouldn't be popping pills anyway." The words slipped out under a scoffing chuckle.
Crown's head snapped in my direction. I swung my legs off the edge of the bed, already knowing where this was 'bout to go. I rolled my neck, left to right, cracking my shit, then did the same to my knuckles. Crown was breathing heavy, but at the same time looked like he wasn't breathing at all. The boy standing in front of me was a shell of the one who stumbled in here every night, crying about his mom being gone. Out of the blue, the crying stopped, and his pupils began swallowing the brown in his eyes. My chest tightened for Crown. What he thought was a cure for his pain was Lucian doing what he felt was needed to keep me in line.
"Aye, I'ma need you to not say shit else to me, ight? I'm not here to be judged by a homeless muthafucka in the sameposition as me. Nigga thinks 'cause he got on clean Nikes while my shits dirty, he's better than me. That nigga not better than me… I'm muthafuckin' Crown!" he gritted, grabbing a bottle of water from his desk and downing that bitch.
"Oh yeah, then why you here, Crown?" I probed.
"You think I wanna be," he huffed. "Nigga, I ain't have a choice. My fath… the man I… the muthafucka I thought I was gon' grow up to be like robbed me of my moms. He killed—" Crown cut his words short, taking a few steps back, muttering shit I couldn't hear.
"Nah, I don't wanna be here. If I had it my way, I'd be up in the clouds with my mom." His voice got lighter. "She'll probably be disappointed that I came to see her so soon. She swore I was one of them ones. Used to tell me?—"
Gruff hums replaced his words as Crown violently shook his head. His eyes glossed with tears; the kind that made his pain feel his chest was caving in. I stayed quiet, letting his hums carry what he couldn't say.
