"Shawty's like a melody in my head that I can't keep out got me singin' like~♪"

Mike's eyes shot open when he heard the song playing and groaned loudly when he felt his phone vibrating next to him.

"Who the fuck's callin' me right now?" he demanded and looked at his phone to see that it was Wyatt. He sighed as he answered the phone and put it against his ear. "Aye, man. What the hell you callin' me for? I ain't finna play games now, bitch. Go to sleep-"

"Hey, Mike," Wyatt called, his voice raspy out of exhaustion. "Can you pick me up? I'm-"

Mike sat up straight and jumped out of his bed. "The fuck happened? On God, Imma beat some ass if a bitch tryna mess with you. Where ya at?"

Wyatt looked around and only saw the same road he was driving for a few kilometers. "In the middle of nowhere. I'm like 40 minutes away from Brooklyn and this car is out of gas. My phone battery is almost dead too and I don't have anything to clean my wound with."

"Wound?" Mike shouted and covered his mouth with his hand as he looked at his bedroom door scared that he woke up Tanisha. "The fuck you mean "wound"?" he whispered.

"It isn't that bad. Can you just come here? I don't know how long my phone's going to last," Wyatt sighed. "I'll explain everything to you later."

"Aight, man," Mike replied after a few seconds of silence. "Send me the location. Imma be there as fast as possible. Just, stay awake for me, aight?"

"I'll try," he replied, forcing a chuckle. He sent Mike the location and glanced at his phone battery. "I only have four percent of my bat-"

"DAMN! Whatcha doin' all out there?" Mike asked when he saw that it's a fifty-minute drive. "Fifty minutes?! Aye, man. I'm tellin' ya, we have to pass a gas station when we go back home. 'Cause I ain't have enough gasoline to pick you up and drive back home. Like, DAMN!"

"I don't care how you get here," Wyatt said. "Just scrap a few minutes off the time by going over the speed limit or something like that. I'll pay for the tickets."

"Nah, man. I ain't wanna risk gettin' shot by the police," Mike replied while he put his clothes on. "I'll be there in like, an hour. Listen to music or some shit to stay awake. We could pass somewhere to buy some food if ya like to."

"We'll see," he smiled. "And bring the spare keys of my apartment with you. I forgot mine at Ray's."

"Aight, bet. See you later," Mike said and hung up. He looked around his room and scratched his head. "The fuck did he do this time?" He shook his head, grabbed his keys, and walked to Tanisha's room. He knocked on her door and opened it. Momma!"

Tanisha woke up and looked at Mike pissed off. "What the hell are you waking me up for?!" she yelled. "It's 3 in the morning! Do you need a whooping?"

"Sorry momma, but I just wanna say that I ain't gonna be home till night."

Tanisha frowned and sat up straight. "What? Why? Where are you going so early in the morning?"

"I have to go n' pick up Wyatt's bitch ass. He ain't got no gasoline in his damn car n' asked me to pick him up," Mike lied. "Imma call work later to tell them I'm sick so ya know."

"Oh, alright. Say hi to Wyatt for me."

"Aight. I'll call ya later momma. Bye," Mike grinned and waved at her. He closed the door and looked at his phone. "This is gonna take a while," he sighed.

A little more than forty minutes have passed. Wyatt was staring exhausted out of the window as RnB played from the radio. He already searched the car and the trunk for useful info and he did find some documents. He sighed and glanced at his bruise.

"The bleeding finally stopped, but it'll get infected if I don't clean it on time." He took off the bloody piece of clothing and grabbed a new one that he ripped earlier. He wrapped it around his arm and tied it, using his hand and teeth to tighten the knot. Bright car lights on the other side of the road caught Wyatt's attention and he tried to duck as quick as possible. Wyatt heard tires screeching and the car stopped next to him. Wyatt grabbed the gun on the passenger seat and waited for the person to tap on his window. The door on Wyatt's side opened and Wyatt pointed the gun to the person's head.

"What the fuck, man?!" Mike shouted as he raised his hands. Wyatt recognized his voice and lowered the gun. "I'm tryna save yo dumbass and you finna act like this! Goddamn!"

"Hey, Mike," Wyatt smiled wearily.

Mike's eyes widened when he saw Wyatt's bruised face. "Damn, man. What did they do to you?"

"Can I get your phone before I begin?" Mike handed his phone and Wyatt dialed Julius' company. "Hey, it's Wyatt." Wyatt sighed. "2212." Wyatt was silent for a while. "Yes, that's me. I have a car here that someone needs to pick up. It doesn't have any gasoline and I recommend doing it as fast as possible. It'd be a hassle if the police get it before you guys get here. It's a black BMW." Wyatt listened to what she had to say. "Alright. Use this phone to pinpoint the location. I'll leave the keys inside of the car." Wyatt paused. "Thank you. Good night." He hung up and handed Mike the phone.

"Is someone gonna pick the car up? Why didn't you call them to pick you up then?" Mike asked.

"I'd rather call you than sit in a car with someone I don't know," Wyatt replied as he handed Mike the documents and got out of the car with the gun in his hand. "Sorry for waking you up so early though."

"I don't care, dude. You're my fuckin' homie. Of course I'd help you, y'know what I'm talkin' 'bout?" Mike grinned and eyed the gun. "You can give it to me if ya like to."

"I'd rather not. I have gloves on and I don't want your fingerprints on it." Wyatt closed the door and they both went inside Mike's car.

Mike put the documents on the back seat and started the car. "Uh, I guess. Anyway, you wanna eat something? Ya think KFC is still open? You know what? We'll find out," he laughed as he drove back home.

Wyatt tried his best to stay awake, but he couldn't keep his eyes open. "Wake me up when you're buying food," Wyatt spoke and drifted off to sleep.

After a while, Mike drove through the McDonald's drive-thru and bought some food for him and Wyatt. When he got the food, he drove to Wyatt's apartment complex and parked his car in front of it.

He glanced at Wyatt who was sleeping peacefully as he grabbed his phone. He posed the camera so you only could see his and Wyatt's face in the picture. He took a few pictures of Wyatt himself in the dark so you couldn't make out the bruises and sent them to David.

Mike: This dumbass fell asleep while we were getting a midnight snack

He sent the message and turned his phone off. He looked back at Wyatt and shook him lightly. "Aye, Wyatt. We're here."

Wyatt rubbed his eyes and turned towards Mike. "Alright. Let's go, I still need to clean this," he said as he glanced at his arm. Wyatt frowned and smelled the air. "That doesn't smell like KFC."

"Man, they ain't 24 hours open," Mike cried. "I was ready to eat some motherfuckin' chicken. But here we are, with a big mac."

"It is what it is." Wyatt grabbed the gun and documents. He hid the gun in his jeans and waited for Mike to finish.

"I know, but you ain't have to say it like that," Mike muttered as he locked his car. They walked into the complex and there was no one else besides them.

Wyatt pressed the elevator button. "By the way, did you take pictures of me when I was asleep in the car?"

Mike tried to contain his laughter and turned to Wyatt puzzled. "What? Takin' pics of you?" The elevator chimed and they walked inside of it. Wyatt pressed the button for the top floor. "You're actin' like I got a death wish. Nah, man. I ain't wanna die this early."

"Hm," Wyatt hummed as he narrowed his eyes at him. "I'll let you off this time."

After a few minutes, they reached the top floor. They both went to Wyatt's apartment and Mike opened the door. They took their shoes off and Wyatt went straight to the bathroom. Mike dropped the food down on the kitchen table and followed Wyatt to the bathroom.

"Hey, Wyatt. You need some help-" Mike's eyes widened when he saw all the bruises on Wyatt's half-naked body. "What the hell did that bitch do to you?!"

"They just beat me around a little," Wyatt replied nonchalantly as he grabbed the cleaning alcohol. "And I killed them. Nothing much. Just the usual."

Mike didn't know what to say to him and stared at Wyatt confused. "Are you fuckin' with me or are you bein' for real?"

Wyatt hissed when the alcohol came in contact with his wound. "I'm glad that it wasn't that bad," Wyatt thought and glanced at Mike. "That's basically what happened."

"Hol' up. Just start from the beginnin'. You be sayin' some shit and I ain't know how to put everythin' together," Mike complained. "I ain't that smart and YOU know that."

Wyatt stopped cleaning his wound to show Mike his perplexed expression. "What? This doesn't have to do anything with how smart you are." Wyatt sighed and turned his attention back to cleaning. "Some thugs kidnapped me, took me to their base, beat me for some information that I may or may not have, tried to persuade me into joining them, which ended up with me killing them. And after I did that, I stole one of the corpses' cars and drove back until the car ran out of gas. That's it."

"Damn," Mike whispered while he watched Wyatt sticking a band-aid that was the size of his bruise on his arm. Wyatt wanted to put all the things back, but Mike stopped him. "Aye, ain't you tired? Do all the cleaning up later. Let's eat."

"Fine. But can I take a shower first?" Wyatt asked.

Mike shook his head as he forced Wyatt to the kitchen. "Maybe you don't know, but McDonald's food tastes like ass when it's cold." Mike winced when he remembered the time that he ate a three-day-old hamburger in his backpack when he was still in high school. "You remember that one time I was sick during test week in junior year? That was because of that."

Wyatt looked concerned at the food on the table. "I'm not sure if I want to eat it anymore."

"Chill out, dude. It's fine," Mike grinned, sitting down across Wyatt. "And that shit was my fault too. How many years ago was that?" Mike rubbed his chin. "We were 16 that time, right?" Wyatt nodded as Mike grabbed a burger and took a bite from it. "Wow. That shit was 7 years ago. Time do be flyin' fast.

"Time does fly fast and I expected nothing less from you," Wyatt laughed as he grabbed one of the burgers.

"Whatcha mean with that?" Mike glared at him with his mouth full.

Wyatt shook his head with a smile. "It's nothing. Anyway, what do you want to eat later?"

Mike looked up from his burger as he paused with chewing. "Eat later? You talk like you 'bout to whip somethin' up later. I got some news for ya, homie. You ain't gonna make shit. We orderin' take out later."

"But-"

"Shut the fuck up," Mike cut him off. "Your health is more important for me and I can't cook somethin' good to eat."

"But-"

"Should I cancel the plans with David?" Mike asked, cutting Wyatt off again. "Or are you good enough to make some good shit for us?"

"I feel like he's going to be disappointed if we cancel on him," he replied. "He told me one time that you, as he quoted from you, "hyped me up" too much."

"I always need to hype my homie up," Mike grinned. "I have no regrets on doin' that."

"Of course he wouldn't." Wyatt rubbed his eyes. "I think that I'm good for Saturday. I just need a few painkillers if it still hurts."

"Fuck yeah!" Mike took a sip from his drink and cleared his throat. "Now, lemme tell you 'bout my hamburger story..."