A boy ran down the alleyway—breathing ragged, covered in dirt, blood, and scratches that didn't have time to heal. Dogs and officers are yelling behind him telling him to stop but he keeps running, thinking to himself, *w-what the FUCK* his two locks hitting him in his eye as he runs home.
Then CJ blinks, he's in his car, outside his new apartment, in his new city. He was in Chicago now not St. Louis he told himself
The engine cut, and just like that, it was quiet.
Well not real quiet, this was Chicago after all but it was the kind where the noise sat in the background instead of pressing on you. Cars passed. A siren cried somewhere far off. Wind slid between buildings like it had somewhere to be.
CJ stayed in the driver's seat a second longer than he needed to. He was a young man in his early twenties with bronze-skin and locks pulled in a ponytail, leaving two little ones out to hang over his eyes which could almost pass for normal if his pupils weren't flame colored.
Phone pressed to his ear.
"…Ma, I'm here."
"You just got there?" Her voice came quick, already tight. "Boy, yo' ass was supposed to called me when you hit the city."
"I just said I'm here," CJ muttered. "Ain't even get out the car yet."
His eyes lifted to the apartment building in front of him.
Brick. Older. Solid.
Not trying to impress nobody.
One window flickered.
His mom exhaled sharp. "I don't like this, CJ. I don't. New city, you don't know nobody, and you up there by yourself like you grown grown."
CJ smirked faintly.
"I am grown, Ma."
"Mm. Grown don't mean untouchable. It's some fuck up people in the world and not all of them are SIGs, and then you got the S.T.F and god knows what they'll do. Especially to unregistered SIGs."
That sat there.
CJ pushed the door open, stepping out. Cool air hit his face—cleaner than back home, but heavier. Like the city was holding something in.
St. Louis didn't feel like that.
St. Louis stayed loud, even when it was quiet. As if everyone needed to show something off to another.
Chicago just… watched. As if the air itself was judging how long you'll last.
"I'm straight," CJ said, grabbing his duffel. "Ain't nobody out here worried 'bout me like that. I ain't in no gang out here. Don't know nobody, and nobody know me."
"You don't know that, and Chicago already has a violent reputation" she shot back. "That's the problem."
He shut the car door with his hip.
"I know enough," he said. "Same rules, different block."
"That ain't how shit works and you know it."
CJ started toward the entrance.
"Aight," he muttered. "Then I'ma learn."
A pause.
Then, softer—
"You talked to her?"
His jaw tightened just a little.
"…Yeah."
"And?"
He pulled the door open, stepping inside. The hallway smelled like old carpet, cleaning spray, and somebody frying something a few floors up.
"She said I needed to move," he said. "Said if I stayed, I was gon' keep… doin' the same shit over and over."
His mom hummed low. "That girl always could see through you."
"Yeah," CJ said. "She do that."
"You listen to her real quick," she added. "But when I say something—"
"Ma," CJ cut in, a small grin slipping through. "Don't start."
"I'm just sayin'."
He climbed the stairs, steady, controlled.
"She ain't tell me what to do," he said. "She just ain't let me lie about it."
Silence again.
"…You gon' be careful?" she asked.
CJ reached his floor, stopping at his door.
Just a door.
Didn't feel like much.
"…Yeah," he said. "Always."
"You better be. I don't care how strong you think you is. You still my baby."
He rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth lifted.
"Aight, Ma."
"And call me tomorrow."
"Damn, I just got here—"
"Tomorrow, CJ."
"…Yeah. Tomorrow."
"Love you."
"…Love you too."
The call ended.
The hallway felt a little too still.
CJ slid the key into the lock, turned it, and stepped inside.
The apartment greeted him with silence.
No movement. No sound. Just space.
Waiting.
He looked around the area. Searching for the nearest exit, hiding spots, advantages and disadvantages he could potentially have in his apartment.
While he is quick scanning his surroundings he set his bags down just past the doorway, eyes moving without rushing.
Living room. Bare walls. Window facing the street—city lights bleeding through. Kitchen off to the side. Hallway leading deeper in.
Not much.
But his.
He walked further in, scanning—corners, angles, distance between rooms.
An old habit.
His reflection caught faintly in the window.
For a second, his eyes stood out—gold-orange pupils glowing low, steady.
Watching.
He looked away.
"Yeah…" he muttered. "This'll work."
He stepped closer to the window, glancing down at the street. People passed without looking up. Cars rolled like nothing stopped for anybody.
New city.
New start.
That's what he told himself.
But—
Something shifted.
Not loud.
Not clear.
Just—
For half a second, the noise outside dulled. Like someone turned the world down a notch too far.
CJ's brow tightened.
His hand flexed once at his side.
Then—
It snapped back.
Sound returned. Movement. Normal.
"…Huh."
He clicked his tongue.
"Probably nothin'."
Still, his body didn't fully relax.
He moved.
Duffel unzipped.
Clothes out. Folded. Stacked. Set aside.
Shoes by the wall. Charger on the counter. Hoodie over a chair like it already belonged there.
Efficient.
Keep moving.
The place started looking less empty.
More… lived in.
CJ paused in the kitchen, rolling his shoulder once.
Too quiet again.
He reached back into the bag—
His phone buzzed.
Video call.
He stared at it for a second.
Then answered.
"…Yeah."
Nya.
Even through the screen, she didn't feel distant.
Leaned back somewhere dim, braid over her shoulder, sapphire beads catching light in small flashes. Her eyes—deep, steady—shifted like they were adjusting to him, not the camera.
"Mm," she hummed. "You look alive. Good start."
CJ snorted, propping the phone up so he could keep moving.
"Been here ten minutes. Relax Cus'."
"Ten minutes is enough time for you to make a bad decision."
"You called just to hate?"
"I called to check if The Storm Queen scared you back home yet."
He laughed under his breath. "She still talkin' like I'm twelve or some shit. And don't call her that"
"She's right to."
"Yea Aight."
"You been talkin' to her?" he asked.
"She called me before she called you."
CJ blinked. "…Of course she did."
"Very detailed report too," Nya added calmly. "Conclusion: you're about to do something reckless in a different zip code. 'You know he's a hothead Nya' and little bit of 'AND THAT DUMBASS MAN JUST DOESN'T CARE TO STOP HIM' with lightning everywhere."
"She do too damn much."
"She does exactly enough."
He shook his head, but there wasn't heat in it.
"…Place decent?" she asked.
"Yeah. It's straight."
Her eyes shifted slightly.
"Window placement?"
"Front."
"Entrances?"
"Front door. Fire escape."
She nodded. "Good."
CJ paused, giving her a look.
"You doin' too much now."
"Am I?"
"…Hell yeah."
A beat.
Then—
"How'd he take it?"
CJ stilled.
Just for a second.
His eyes dropped slightly.
Silence answered.
Nya didn't push.
"Mm," she said softly. "Figured."
He grabbed a hoodie, folding it slower now.
"Yeah… wasn't really no talk for real."
She nodded once.
No pity.
Just understanding.
Then—
"Well," she said, tone shifting lighter on purpose, "good thing you got me."
CJ glanced up. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. Somebody gotta make sure you don't turn this place into a headline."
He smirked. "Damn, you think I'm that bad?"
"I think," she said calmly, "left unsupervised, you could burn mt. Fuji and still be angry."
"…That's crazy."
"Is it?"
"…A little."
A small smile touched her face.
Then—
"So I'll be there soon by the way."
CJ frowned. "Here?"
"Chicago."
"You?"
"Yea," she said. "Did I stutter nigga?"
He blinked.
"…What?"
"Yep, I'm the apartment next to yours," she said. "Lease went through."
CJ stared at the screen.
Processing.
"…You lyin'."
"I don't lie."
He ran a hand over his face, half-laughing.
"Fuck. So you just… planned this?"
"Of course."
"You ain't think to tell me?"
"If I told you," she said, "you would've overthought it."
"…Yeah."
"And annoyed me."
"…Yeah."
"I avoided that."
He shook his head, but something eased in his chest.
"…When you gettin' here?"
"Soon. Now finish unpacking fireboy. Oh and I'm bringing a surprise guest" she said with a devilish grin.
"There goes that smile."
"Don't start."
"Too late."
She watched him a second longer.
Then, softer—
"You did good, CJ."
That one landed.
He nodded once.
"…Yeah."
The call ended.
Silence came back.
But it wasn't empty anymore.
CJ looked around the apartment again.
Half-unpacked.
Dim light.
City outside still moving like it didn't care.
Now?
It felt like something starting.
Not finished.
But moving.
"Aight," he muttered.
Back to work.
Time slipped.
Calls. Messages. Voices from home.
Familiar.
Grounding.
"Yeah, I'm straight… nah cus', it ain't like that…"
Another call.
"Man, I just moved, I ain't die nigga damn."
Then—
"Kamari, chill—"
A small smile pulled at his face.
"I said I'm comin' back. Relax."
He leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
"Just give me a minute, aight? I gotta get right out here first."
A pause.
"…Yeah. I'll bring you something."
That got him half an argument.
He laughed. "Aight. Go to sleep."
The call ended.
The apartment looked different now.
Still small.
Still simple.
But his.
Clothes put away. Shoes lined up. Chargers plugged in. Applications half-filled, some sent.
He'd been moving all day.
Didn't even notice.
"…Shit it's late," he muttered.
He moved slower now—checking the door, glancing out the window one more time.
The city had quieted.
Not asleep.
Just… watching.
He let the curtain fall.
"Aight."
He grabbed his phone—
It buzzed.
One message.
From his dad.
Take care son
CJ stared at it.
That was it.
No speech.
No lecture.
Just that.
Something in his chest—tight all day—finally loosened.
"…Yeah," he murmured.
He locked the phone, setting it down.
For the first time since he got here—
He felt steady.
Not settled.
Not comfortable.
But ready.
CJ turned off the last light and walked toward the bedroom.
Darkness settled in, city glow bleeding faint through the window.
Outside, Chicago kept breathing.
Inside—
CJ finally let the day end.
And for the first time since leaving St. Louis…
He was ready for whatever came next.