Yeah, I'm not in the best of moods and haven't been for some days. I haven't felt like doing much of anything, let alone writing. Here's a little something that's basically a crapload of nothing in an attempt to get this block off my shoulders. Oh, well. You've been warned.
Song: Fall For Your Type by Drake. I suggest you listen to it, bitchez.
You know, if you care enough. Whatever.
Disclaimer: The Boondocks isn't mine! NOPE.
Fall For Your Type
"You do know you lookin pretty pathetic right now?"
"You do know I don't really care how I look at this point, right?"
Eighteen year old Riley Freeman sighed. The girl, no, the woman who sat beside him stared straight ahead, her eyes on a spot on the wall that he knew he'd never be able to see even if he tried. She let her glass twist lightly underneath her fingertips.
"Aye." The bartender, a stout man with a dark mustache and an indifferent disposition, stopped in front of them. He was cleaning a glass. "You sixteen?"
She blinked. "The drinking age is twenty one."
"Oh." He shrugged, walking away. She shook her head.
"While you're walking towards the Krug Rose, pour me some more, would you?" She yelled, sighing and resting her chin on her hand while closing her eyes. He rolled his own hazel eyes, sucking his teeth and leaning back in his chair.
"I ain' gon do dis errytime ya'll decide ta take a break," he said, annoyed. "Like I don' got betta shit to be doin-"
"No one told you to come." Her voice was uncharacteristically harsh. "No one ever tells you to come."
"Someone's gotta." He snorted. "If I ain' come none of dem otha times you'd probably be dead."
"Yeah." She snorted herself, taking the glass the bartender offered her and taking a large swallow before shaking her head and sighing again. "Maybe that would be best for everyone."
"Der you go being all dramatic." He rolled his eyes. "It's reasons like dat where make him dump yo ass."
"No." Her eyes narrowed and she glared at him. "He dumps me because I hold him back. And then he takes me back because he realizes he needs me. And the cycle repeats itself." She let out a laugh of disbelief and shook her head. "And I'm so stupid because I just let him. Time after time, he just breaks my heart and I just let him do it." She let her free hand flop into her lap. "I'm so stupid, and I know it's stupid but…I just can't help it."
He rolled his eyes. God, his brother was so stupid. He had all the book sense, all the street smarts, all the knowledge that could be picked up from newspapers, books, and magazines. But when it came to maintaining relationships he was about as smart as Shamu in a rainforest.
What made it even worse was that she was probably the only one willing to give him chance…after chance…after chance, and he just took them for granted. Because he knew he could. He'd always been good at using other's weaknesses to his advantage. And in the end he left those used damaged.
And then, he himself was expected to clean up his messes.
She finished the glass of champagne, setting it down and snapping her fingers. "Hit me," she said, as if they were playing poker. He shook his head. Her cheeks were already flushed, her green eyes bogged down with sadness. She was really too pretty to look so miserable.
Grandad had always told him when he was younger that he'd know he found the right woman when he was willing to respect them. Of all the girls he'd met in his short eighteen years he'd never gotten along better with anyone than her. While Huey's ass was planning his revolution, reading, or doin whatever other nerd things he did, it was him who was running around the town with her, or sitting on the front porch with. Yeah, she annoyed him and sure, they argued.
But when Butch Magnus had pulled her hair his freshmen year and threw down her books, he had been the one to confront him after school and black his eye while Huey had told her she needed to learn to be more assertive. When she had a piano recital and Huey had schoolwork to do he was the one there, struggling not to fall asleep but standing up to clap with all the others when she was finished. Every time Huey made her cry with some mean words that he didn't even mean half the time he was the one listening to her blubber on the phone or beside him. He might not have been smart or wise as his brother, but even he knew that just because he was a certain way that didn't mean everyone was supposed to act that way.
"I'm not getting back together with him this time." Her voice made him glance towards her face. She pressed her lips together and shook her head. "Nope. He's just going to have to find someone else's feelings to toy with."
"Whateva, nigga." He shrugged when she glared at him. "You say dat shit every damn time, yet you answer the first ring when he calls, or hop to the door so quick-"
"Not this time." She swallowed. "Never again." She groaned, slamming her palm on the surface of the bar. "What's a woman gotta do around here to get a damn drink?"
"Jazzy, come on." He sighed. "Dat's like, yo sixth one."
"I'm sorry; did I ask you to count?"
"Naw, but I ain' ask fo yo stank attitude an you got one anyway." He smacked his lips. "Don be actin all brand new cuz mah brotha dropped you like a hot potato. I ain' did nothing to yo ass."
She blinked, sighing. "You're right." She was the only woman he knew who could be borderline drunk out of her mind and still talking like some scholarly type. She took the glass from the bartender, muttering a quiet thank you before closing her eyes and downing the glass. He shook his head.
"Can I, can I
Save you from you
Cause you know there's something missing
And that champagne you've been sipping's
Not supposed to make you different all the time-"
Huey never saw this Jazmine, never had to deal with her. No, it was him who seemed to only see her down and depressed, to have to watch her drink until she turned into someone even she didn't recognize. The ironic part was that when she was drunk, she was the exact same way Huey always wanted her to act sober; cold, sarcastic, emotionless. He was so busy trying to change her, to make her someone she wasn't, that he couldn't even see how much his efforts hurt. Not only how much they hurt her, but Riley himself. He wasn't a sap, but watching someone he was actually close to be that way…it wasn't right. And she didn't deserve it.
"Riley." Her voice was quiet and cracked. He glanced at her. She sighed, her eyes closed and her knuckles white around the glass.
"Why am I never good enough?"
Her question made him pause. The bar wasn't very crowded, considering it was a Monday night in January and pretty early for all the winos to be out. He rested his fists on the counter.
"You's good enough." She shook her head with disbelief and he snorted. "Well, how da hell you expect him to think you good enough if you don' think you is yoself?"
She took another swig, laughing. There was no trace of humor in her voice.
"Maybe he sees something I don't."
"It's starting to feel like the wrong thing to do yeah
Cause with all that recognition it gets hard for you to listen
to the things that I must say to make you mine."
He couldn't exactly blame her. The reason he'd even gotten into the military was because he'd had to do something, anything, for him to get out of his brother's shadow. He'd never stayed home because he was always there, doing something for school or for work or for an internship. He was focused solely on getting out of Woodcrest and he'd done just that. He didn't care whose toes he stepped on to get to the top, who he left behind. His motto was "No one else cares about each other, so why should I care?"
He didn't even know just how much anyone cared.
"I don't want to do this anymore."
Her voice was practically a whisper, yet it was the loudest he'd heard all evening. Maybe it was her words that did it. He lifted his head.
She shrugged, her eyelids laden. "Hate myself. Try to hate him. Try to hate everyone…"
"So don' do it."
She bit her lip, the tears finally coming. "I don't know what else to do."
He shook his head, sliding down from the stool. "Man, bring yo ass."
She blinked at him, surprised. "What?"
He held out a hand. "Just come on."
She gave his hand a reluctant stare before slowly stepping down, swaying on her feet. He had to wrap his free arm around her slender waist to keep her from falling on her face.
"Where are we going?" she asked, not seeming as if she cared too much regardless. He let his arm migrate to rest around her shoulders.
"Don' worry bout it."
"Aye!" He glanced over his shoulder to see the bartender shaking his fist. "You gonna pay me?"
He snorted. "Nigga, do I look like ima give you anything?"
He scratched his head. "Not really…" He waved his hand, turning on his heel. "Get out."
Instead of getting into her car he guided them out the parking lot, hitting the sidewalk and starting down the street. After a few blocks she shivered.
"I don't feel like walking."
He sucked his teeth. "Get ova it."
"Riley." Her voice was weaker. "I don't want to walk."
He mumbled under his breath, rolling his eyes and bending down, one hand holding on to the backs of her knees and his other hand behind her back so that when he lifted her, her head was resting on his shoulder. She sighed, closing her eyes and resting her head in the crook of his neck.
He hated this. He wasn't some damn hero or protagonist. He was a fighter. He was the one who everyone saw as ignorant and crazy. He wasn't the one who girls fell in love with, unless they were hoodrats. He was only good enough when it came to being the one to carry you home when you're drunk, or when the other guy you had your eye on for years didn't want you anymore.
She was mumbling, her voice so low that he couldn't even hear.
He could kill his brother for doing this to her.
It was sooner rather than later when they reached the monument, a tall beacon that reached for the dark, endless sky above. He set her down on the grass, plopping down beside her and sighing.
"Ya know, I got betta thangs to do than babysit you cuz you can't hold yo liquor."
She rested on her back, opening her eyes to stare up at the stars above. "Then go do them."
He and she both knew he was going nowhere.
"But live girl, have some fun, we'll be fine
Trying to convince myself I'm the one
Making a mistake I never learn from."
"I'll never be what he wants."
There was no point in lying to her. He shook his head, offering her a rare sympathetic look. She swallowed, glancing up at him.
"And he'll…he'll never change."
Pssh. He was Huey Freeman. Huey Freeman didn't know change if it jingled in his palm. He didn't reply, but he didn't have to. She swallowed, choking back tears.
"I don't…I don't know what to do without him." She sat up, her long hair falling down her back. "He's all I know."
She was so weak. So insecure and unsure. He snorted.
She was also undeniably beautiful.
"I swear I
For your type
Yeah, for your type."
Huey didn't like people who weren't aggressive and analytical like him. They were "too passive, too fragile". He liked strong, secure women, and that was when he even bothered being in relationships in the first place.
But him...maybe it was because he was used to not being what others wanted. Being second rate to his brother. Not being able to stand on his own two feet and make his own name due to being stranded on Huey's path. He didn't want to follow in his footsteps. He wouldn't.
He didn't need for a woman to be strong. Not when he could help her find her strength. And he didn't need for them to change. Not for him.
He especially didn't need her to change. Not when she was so sweet and compassionate and constantly normal to him when others saw him as a lost cause. Because of her, he'd never completely fallen. Because of her, he'd resisted the urge to give in to what was expected of "people like him"; to drugs, violence. When she was around he didn't have to be tough or aggressive. He could just do him. Whether in New Jersey for school or here beside him, under the stars, she was always there. She was his constant.
And god, she deserved so, so much better.
Tell me why I
For your type
Yeah oh ohh
For your type…"
She rested her palms on her knees, staring at him. The moonlight reflected off her misty eyes, causing them to sparkle. She was gorgeous, even when she was sad.
"What if no one else loves me?"
His question caught him off guard. He blinked at her before giving her a look.
"Nigga, is you serious?" He rolled his eyes when she frowned. "You dun lost yo mind. What da hell makes you think dat all deez ugly ass broads out here can get love but you can'?"
She looked unconvinced. "I don't know."
"Well, whateva den." He snorted. "You ain' gon get no kinds of love if you be all walkin round, waitin' ta get kicked, and den when yo ass do you wanna get all hurt like you ain' deserve it." She wiped her red rimmed eyes with the back of her hand. "Trust me. There's lots of men dat would be lucky ta get wit you, forreal."
"I just can't explain this shit at all."
She bit her lip, glancing at his face. "Like who?"
"Nigga, I don kno!"
She nodded, staring back down at the ground as if in deep thought. After awhile she looked back up.
Of course she was. She wouldn't be Jazmine if she wasn't afraid. He shrugged.
"I ain' good at all dat wise shit," he said, turning to face her. "An I kno dats da type of shit you used to, but I don' work dat way." His eyes narrowed. "Not errybody is out ta change you. An you shouldn' be acceptin no one dat do want to. You gotta get yo own self worth togetha an all dat stuff."
She sniffed. "I don' know how."
"Den nigga you besta figure it out!" He threw up his hands, rolling his eyes. "You actin like you sum stupid ass troll lookin motha fucka or sum shit. I mean, damn! You smart! You got looks! You gotta good personality an all dat. Der is no damn reason someone shouldn' wanna be wit chu."
She blinked, shifting. "Even you?"
He stopped, staring down into her eyes. For the first time that evening they didn't look sad or lost or even lonely. They looked…hopeful.
He shook his head, leaning forward. "'Specially not me," he replied before finding her lips with his own.
"I just can't explain this shit at all."
It was a moment, a brief moment, before she was kissing him back, her shaking hands resting on his collar.
"I just can't explain this shit at all."
A sudden loud beeping sounded that caused them to sprang apart; both of them fumbled for their pockets before Jazmine reached her phone, which was lighting up like crazy and vibrating in her hands. From the frown that covered her face it was obvious who it was. She glanced up, meeting Riley's gaze. He shrugged, looking away.
It won't like he expected nothing different. It wasn't ever him she wanted; it was Huey. Always Huey.
She swallowed, staring down at the phone for a few more seconds before shaking her head and, in a move that surprised the hell out of him, tossed the phone over her shoulder. It hit a patch of bushes that bordered the lawn, disappearing from view. Out of sight, out of mind. Riley blinked.
"I just can't explain that shit at all."
"What tha hell did you do?" He asked as she sat up, staring at him. She smiled softly, her face sincere and her eyes genuine. She leaned close to him.
"I'm doing what I want." She let her eyes drift shut. "I'm done thinking about him." Her hand drifted down to his chest, resting directly over his heart. He swallowed. "Just because he's a good guy…it doesn't mean I don't know someone better."
She deserved so much better…
He could be better. He could definitely be better.
"Someone better?" He sucked his teeth. "Who da hell is dis "someone"?"
She snorted, shaking her head. "I'll give you a hint." Before he could react she was throwing her arms around his neck, kissing him all over again. This time, he wrapped his arms around her, leaning into her embrace. With her, he wasn't afraid to show that he had emotions. That he was human. With her, he wasn't afraid, period.
And, unlike his dumbass brother, he didn't expect perfection. She was perfect the way she was.
"Never leaving people like you."
There's to all the anti Huey/Jazmine people I suppose. lol
Um...yeah...thanks for reading?