In the dark, everything is closer. Louder. There. A water tendril, a mist of breath, even the friction between vertebrae. I hear it all. Sitting there, tightened up around myself and the everything closing in. All muddling and tottering till finding a warmth to latch onto. And the warmth to tighten its fist around it back.

I figure Celeste must have lithic skin - polished under the sizzling downpour of her shower's waterpressure, temp turned up a notch too hot. I let the torrent skin me away, splatters dousing my fade and longer curls, too lazy to properly wash. Wouldn't dare to either - even if Celeste gave me a rundown of her extensive collection of skincare and wash products early on in our relationship I wouldn't be able to articulate one correct sentence about what is what. Oils, creams, scrubs, moisturizers, exfoliants, extracts, honeys, salts, butters - the line between such routine and a Michelin-star omakase scrapped dangerously thin.

"What the hell are you showering in the dark for, Dari???"

Celeste's brisk voice chimed in, the warm spa-fit lighting blinding me for a second. I could practically feel the reprove outlining her words as I turned and peaked outside the narrow (for my 6'9 ass that is) shower cabin.

"Why not? I felt moody."

The clouds of mist sprayed the distance between eachother, making everything a smudged contour of shower brume infused in eucalyptus and whatever the bodywash I tentatively just used contained. Maybe yuzu? Maybe lime. Something citrusy but verdant but not summery. Like a winter fresh green in the humid tropics. Which makes no goddamn sense.

With water beads pearling my eyelashes I was rendered semi-blind, but it did little to not pick on Celeste's playful scolding and headshake.

"Just rinse and come out already. Don't slip and die in my bathroom, please."

As if. I held quite the record on the number of occassions I almost met my demise within the confines of a shower - thrice because of my brother's rodent pets - but that is a tale for another time. One that makes me shudder out of reflex. I should tell Ruka this could be filed in as PTSD by this point.

I step out of the shower and wrap the carmine towel Celeste has left on the gold-celadon marble counter around my waist. Slight stems of water run down my damp steam-fuming skin, drizzles pitter-pattering at the ends of my coiled up strands. I wipe the mirror and face to look at the left side of my jawline - the splotches of mauve and black were still there, surface slightly swollen (I need to ice it again when I get home). I grimace. It felt all the more tender when attempting to caress, fingers ghost tracing the blurred boundaries - between purples and browns, between numb pains.

"Fuck you, T.J! Fucking flopper! Ya can't even do a lay-up, for fucks sake!"

I cuss out rapidly enough to succumb any growing frustration boiling hot and worming underneath my swell.

Celeste has by now changed into an oversized old v-crop tee, its design faded away, and threadbare leggins. Hair pulled up in a ponytail, she was meticulously going through her evening skincare routine, remixed Taylor Swift playing on low volume in the background.

I move to grab my clothes and remove the towel-...

"Move to the left. You are in my view."

Celeste calls out as she was peeling... something... off her face, and could now clearly see my reflection in her vanity. I grin.

"Hey, now, I think I am pretty alright for your mirror."

I say and swiftly slip on my clothes, shirt sticking to the still wet sides of my body, hair-ends pattering.

"I don't know how you can survive those showers, Cel. Is it some beauty secret to dip yerself in lava?"

She lets out an irony-threaded chuckle, and turns towards me. Face all luscious now, almost iridescent in the neon lighting of her bedroom.

"So," She begins and plunges next to me on her bed. "I figure it is about time we broke up."

I take a moment.

"Oooook? Why now?"

Here is the thing. Last year, when me and Celeste started hooking up, it was all fun and easy and yadda yadda. Yet we became a thing (a couple) not because we were destined to walk down the isle and rent a condo in NYC like two amour-crazed youngsters, but because it was convenient.

We figured we were the same. Aspired towards some things we couldn't let distractions our way. In a sweet way, it made us become genuine friends. I admired her, that much was facts. If my frustrations and grievances were like laundry I could hang on a drying wire to let them wilt, then me and Celeste shared that wire and we could fold up eachother's gripes. It was, in many ways, more stable than the majority of marriages, if you ask me.

That, and the sex was great for both. We were also getting a lot of following online, so all good so far.

I was then, living under the impression that by the time we graduated we'd part amicably and that be it. Post an insta story, let the 'fans' waste their plastic grief in comments and move on.

"I figure 'it is time we saw other people' - that's what my insta story will say anyway." Celeste moved her leg to now semi-sit in my lap. I put my arm around her frame, enveloping the whole of her body.

"Aaaand for the non-insta audience?" Like me, that is.

"Didn't you say you are gonna get busy soon too? I have too much to prepare for my college admissions as well, in the first place. Not to mention cheer competitions. This is an organic ending to a barely one year long highschool 'romance'. Completely reasonable."

She waved her finger in the air like the conductor of a national orchestra, weaving and sewing tapestries of methodical plans, backup plans, all laid out surgically in her mind.

Yet, even so, I knew her. Or as far as I could tentatively get to know and maybe understand Celeste Park - who was dearest to me, but had the reflexes of a feline and poise of a vixen in building and shuffling layers of herself. The likes of a cardistry grandmaster of her own heart.

"Is your mom involved in any way in this decision?"

Her following scold weighted in more than a confirmation.

"She is unbearable. She now starts questioning how serious we are. She wants to get to know you better, too. Picture that."

I chortle at that. One thing I am sure of is that Ms. Park has decided I was far too 'thuggish' for her Ivy-League-debutante of a daughter from the get-go. And if some choose to see some grievous bias or underlining unsavory layer of something-something in that, I will let you know that I wear my thuggishness like a crown and parade it around her. It is fun. It is stupid. But Celeste basks in it. It is what made me realize that entering a relationship with me also meant sticking it up to her mother in some minor way. Even if that minor way was shoving in her mom's face that her daughter was getting more dick than her. A power-play.

"Yeaaaa I can't, for realz."

"Exactly. She is just being annoying now that her 'boyfriend' left her ass. Besides we were getting dangerously close to the 'this is serious' deadline."

I raise my eyebrow. "Is that a thing?"

"I dunno, but it only takes one to believe and it all goes to shit." She pouts, and I can tell she is chewing the inside of her cheeks as she reaches over to her bedside - shiny lipgloss materializing in her hand.

"Come here."

She nudges me closer and I do as told.

"Your lips." She gestures and I pucker them on command, already knowing the drill. I let her draw a layer of gloss, my glance tracing her furrowed brows, knowing she is outlining the seams of my dry mouth with great precision. And, you tell me, if that isn't some type of fondness more precious than flimsy summertime teenage love, then what is?

"We are friends, though, right?"

I struggle to voice it out, my throat the size of a straw, and the tiniest speckles of concern blurring the edges of my vision. Concern that manages to reflect Celeste's surprise, as if I just yanked some metaphorical jenga piece from under her.

"Of course. You are my bestfriend."

The sincerity fills the whole of distance between us, and I just smile back.

"You too. Aaaand I guess that also means we should stop seeing eachother.. like this, as well?"

Half-joking, half-meaning it I see Celeste scrunch up her nose.

"Like I know I said 'we should see other people' - but that's just for face. I don't have time for that! So... I mean if you will start seeing someone else-..."

"Nah."

She lifts her eyes at that, expecting me to elaborate.

"I mean, I won't mind seeing others, though I doubt it. Maybe. But not date. Much less date."

I don't sleep around, contrary to popular belief. And the concept of a relationship was just even more overbearing given everything. If mine and Celeste's new 'situationship' brought anything new, was perhaps much needed mutual sincerity in regards to eachother and the opportunity to hook up.

Even so, Celeste wore one of her unreadable expressions. The one you couldn't even begin to pinpoint where her thought trail traveled to and fro. A whole ink ocean marbling beneath her onyx orbs I found myself swimming in, content in not diving any further.

I lean in cutting behind her and hooking my head around her shoulder, weight pressed in. I know she gets annoyed by it.

"Ugh. Get off. You are a damn furnace." She chucks me away playfully, weightless laughter poured out and I join her in by reflex.

We lay down on her ocean-themed sheets, like sea urchins keeping company to eachother, until the next unlucky idiot steps on us. I study her amused expressions, which make me mimic her - it is one of the reasons I thought made me love Celeste halfway-through our thing. But she was quick to shake me outta my daydreams, like a hurricane shakes a full-bloom sakura tree leaving it nude.

'We are alike, Darian. That is all. And lonely. That too.'

That is what she told me and she was right.

"This is uglier than yesterday." She says, voice low, boney fingers tracing the ghost outline of my bruise. "Do you want me to apply some makeup?"

"Nah. Ari will be first to do that."

Celeste smiles. "Of course. Who did this to you, again? DJ-something?"

I roll my eyes. She knows everyone on every team.

"T.J. Bum thought he could dunk on a chase-down against me. He don't know shiet. Will only warm the bench with his ass-print this season."

I force the frustration down with an angry gulp. It is electrifying. How much weights on this season. On this senior year.

My standing. My scout report. My recruit status. My scholarship offers. My future.

"Darian Ryuua Exume-Ozeki," She begins in a sing-song smooth voice, my brows shooting up instantly. "Consensus 4-star basketball recruit,

Bullshit.

"Bullshit."

"Oooo? You think you are better than that?"

"...I am not a 5-star," Yet. "But no way I am a 4-star either."

Celeste nods. "The 4.5-star recruit, nationally ranked currently at 42 for his class,"

Somehow, that only made it sound even worse to my ears. I knew what Celeste was doing, and it was funny, albeit annoying too.

"His scouting report argues the following - Shotmaking at 6'9" ultimately fuels his takeover scoring ability. He shows no hesitation in catch-n-shooting from pro-league range, his natural talent consistently creating easy dunk opportunities. He has the ability to drill mid-range pull-ups and fallaways which separates him from other high school prospects with a similar and rare positional toolkit. However - " Here Celeste makes a pause from her fake-deep perfect voice-over of my report and shoots me an all-knowing scolding glance. "His handle must improve for him to create with more nuance at the next levels. Likewise, his court vision and decision-making will need to catch up!"

I roll my eyes. "You have read my scouting report." I assumed as much already, by default. "And?"

Celeste sighs, a tired parent's sigh - and she reminds me too much of my mom when her literary agent fails to come through with the simplest of stuff.

"It means, dearest Darian - That. You. Have. Got. No. Court. Vision."

She smirks victoriously and to anyone else but us, it would have appeared dangerously close to mockery. And maybe it was some of that as well. But it was also what linked us - the ability to dig at eachother objectively. It infuriated me the most knowing it was facts. Then we could rise above it. Take the next steps towards what we reached out for. It was akin to sourdough rising, this ritual of ours. For it required fermentation. You needed to be rotten just a bit, around the edges, to work and succeed. Put in the work. To become better.

"And you are right, coach. I-.."

A ping cut short my upcoming riposte, and I reached out for my phone.

Several missed messages. Spamming of stupid memes on the team's groupchat. Ari going off about some show in our 5's one, Feli checkin' in when I will be home-

onw

b home in 20

I text him back. What else? Coach's practice sheet. The Bucks game were about to start too. Yeah, I wanna watch that one. T.J. messaged me. Delete that one. Fuckin' scrub. Some comments on my latest public insta post. Celeste says I should curate my online persona more. Dunno what that implies. And four messages from Idris.

how u feelin?

Tj elbowed ya gud

fucker

the lil onez keep askin about ur bros cookies 2

I chuckle and begin texting him back. Once I hit send, I look up, a sorry on the edge of my tongue ready for Celeste for the interruption, but I halt myself. She is wearing a look I don't know of, half-attentive on her own phone and the other half on... on what?

"What?" I let out, dazed and curious.

She pirouettes her expression into her usual serene one, just like that. Voice timbre same-old as well.

"Nothing."

She steals a look at her bedside clock. For me to take notice. For us to. Yep, this is it. "The game will start soon."

I nod and sit up.

"Yeah I should get going."

I don't wanna be late for dinner either. Celeste knows that 1. Family dinners are an on-going big thing sewn in the fabric of who I am since birth and 2. That Feli's cooking is the greatest thing since sliced bread. She cannot deny the latter statement in no way, shape, or form.

"Oh, by the way. Dris texted me asking about those chocolate peanut butter cookies Feli made."

They were an all-time hit with the team too since it became my chore to provide snacks on given occasions to them. And I made sure my brother baked two extra batches - one for Celeste to share with her cheer team and one for Idris to take home to his lil sibs, mom, and grandma.

Celeste perks up instantly at that as well.

"Those were delicious. If he makes them again, I am calling dibs on some."

"I don't know. Now that we aren't together no more-..." I drawl out teasingly, fully enjoying the cartoonish childish pout she puts on.

"What about bestfriend perks? Do those earn me any cookies?"

I hum. "Maaaaaybe. We will see. But now I gotta go."

"Hold up!"

Celeste jumps down her bed, beelining for me - standing by the front entrance, my sneaks on and tied up. She skids to a halt and looks me over, up and down.

"What?" I ask, amusement on the corners of my lips.

She says nothing, though, watching me owlishly. Then, rising on the tips of her toes she leans in and pecks my cheek, a sweet, gladdened smile flourished across her face. It feels final and official at the same time. I shake off my initial stupor and return the smile. I feel the same way.

"You have got no court vision, 4.5-star boy. Take care."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah yeah. You said that already. You too."

No cookies earned for that jab.

"Text me."

I nod. "Will do."

~~~

Outside, the leftover sunbeams tinged the world in thin, slight strokes of light. Autumn has just begun not that long ago, yet gave in to the seeping whip of cold - the type I dreaded the most.

I was an angeleno through and through - born on the cusp of solar blossoms and heat glares out of parents hailed from climates humid, hot, and muggy - the type where any lesser person would crumble under the weight of air; where humidity latches onto ya, to your skin and to your bones, and hardens like wax, stretching your air thinner. Till you can no longer breath.

So moving from LA to Elm Grove, Illinois was like being exorcised to a foreign land. Might as well have been some desisted circle of hell for all I cared. For the first months since moving here, I was only trying to make sense of the streets. Not in that they were confusing or hard to navigate. But simply how otherworldly it all appeared to my eyes. The spotless white picket fences that seemed to glow in the dark, the clusters of garages in rows and colums, the clinically manicured lawns. Not all streets were like that, of course. Our new home was certainly not this American-beauty version of a matchbox.

Still, it felt less like a place to call our own, and more like a Twin Peaks reboot. Nowhere to plant ourselves to grow roots, for everywhere you looked, old trees stood tall, their veins crumbling the asphalt, making undulating tongues of earth and grass across the pavement, reshaping and overwhelming all at once. There were no room for us in here.

I shake my head, hearing the gravel shuffle beneath my KDs, as I fumble for my car keys the moment I reach my ride.

Once inside and strapped in, I pull away from Celeste's place, my phone out to scroll the latest messages. I know, don't text while driving, but trust me, the world of Elm Grove could use some extra frames per second to even come closer to the hazardous salt-n-smoke vigour that is SoCal.

I check the team's groupchat to see what all the alarm is about.

Kevin L

ion get wat i did wrong tho

She like dipped on me this morning

Didnt even talk ????? 😭😭

Darryn

kev hear me out

forget her

go get loose cuz

get uself sum ICE !!!! 💎💎💎

Aaron

@Kevin L ouch brother

:(((((((((((

Sending u my prayers 🙏🏿🙏🏿

Zane

U full of it @Darryn

Want me to talk to Emz? She be close to Niqi

Maybe can help 🤷🏽

@ Kevin L

Darryn

bru i only tryna help out here

if shawty laid him off

skip ahead !!!!!!!

Kevin L

@ Zane yes please !! 🙏🏼

TJ

Guyz I texted D an-...

I exit the chat instantly. If scrub wants to apologize then he will by putting in work at practice, not texting me like a butthurt guy whose ass just got dropped by his girl. The way I figure Kev is acting right now with his (ex?)girlfriend Niqi. And since when the chat turned into a relationship aid hotline, in the first place???

I slow down to a red light, almost home. Flicking my gaze back to my phone screen, I click the reply I just got from Idris.

Idris

😂😂

Amari and Bailey would totes love it if ya dropped by

Grandma 2 ofc

U like her 5th grandchild by this point Dar

U watchin the game 2nite? I call it Bucks up by 8.

Ma says hi aswel

The corner of my mouth perks up and I manage a swift reply just as the light goes green and I move ahead.

~~~

"I'm home."

I hear the general rattle the moment I step inside. I take off my shoes in what mom calls her improvised genkan area, tucking my wears between my siblings' scrambled pairs. No one dares disagree with mom's ways. If you fail to take your shoes off at the entrance, she will know. She won't say anything. Just give you a look, that is enough to flare up shame from under your skin, as if you just insulted her whole ancestry. In my case, half of mine too. So even if our entrance could, likewise, be described as a makeshift shoe store, it is to stay that way. It is a mess, it always is, was, will be. It is home. And I know it by the susurrus of chatter, the tilt and shift of objects, clinking of ustensils, the perfume of epis, the pulse of aliveness felt beneath the old wooden floors of this house we reshaped to be ours. Here I can lay roots. Here I can rest.

I veer towards the living room, knowing the game must have begun, but I first stop by the kitchen. The whiff of puréed bell peppers, garlic, and onions fill my nostrils immediately, sizzling hot oil and the tempered reflex of a chopping knife rhythmically lining the kitchen.

Feli is busy chopping celery and scallions, while giving directions to our dad on where to find I-don't-know-what-condiment-I-never-heard-of. Outside of his lab coat, he is as lost as an infant left alone in a mall, overwhelmed by the multitude of shelves sprawling across our kitchen.

"Noooo... not here. No.. no. DARIAN!" His gaze grabs me in an instant. "Come help your dad! I don't where the the... what was it, Felius?"

"Mom's shichimi togarashi." He answers, patience worn thin from his voice.

Dad nods. "YES! That one!" As if he knows exactly what my brother is talking about. Me too, dad. Me too.

"It is a spice seasoning blend, dad. It has chillies, sesame, orange peel, nori-..."

I wade my way towards Feli as he says all that, leaving dad to deal with his spice blend mystery novel problem. He has now moved onto seasoning the chicken and fish. I look around at everything laid out, trying to make sense of what he is preparing.

"Pate kòdes?" I guess and Feli nods, his tied up long braids bobbing in approval as well.

"Yep. Half saltfish, half chicken cuz Ki don't do fish." He says and I nod. As of lately, our youngest sib Kian has declared fish as his archenemy of sorts after chocking on one bone that one time.

In the background, our dad is just about ready to meet his demise when going through each shelf and cabinet.

"No one needs these many cabinets. It is not 'neat'. It is just chaos. And why do we have so many tupperwares, as well???? Just use an icecream box, kids. This is some tiktak stuff."

I try holding in my laughter from bending me over as much as possible, and from the corner of my eye I can see Feli struggling to contain himself as well. I love you, papa, I do, you are amazing - but you are losing points for that one. Tiktak? Seriously?

"Ya got my message? Got everything? I will head 'morrow morning to buy whateva's left, if not."

My brother hums, quickly going over the recipe in his head, just as he was swiftly chopping some parsley.

"I will need some more peanut butter, regular butter, and cocoa if you say you need that many batches. Who you feeding anyways? Your teammates?"

I make a face at that statement which quickly gets Feli chuckling. As if. Those guys need to drink their water, lay off the Doritos, and do more free-throws. No cookies for slackers.

"Hell nah. I will go by Dris's, and his lil brother and sister loved your baking. That and some for Celeste."

I feel like I owe her, in a way. And yes, in fact, bestfriend perks do earn one a lot of cookies, I guess. But I don't mention those aspects to my quint.

He nods. "Gotcha. I don't mind doing them. Everyone seemed to like them."

Like them is an understatement, I tell myself right off the bat. Those were a hit. I caught Shaye and Ruka in the middle of the night trying to sneak some to their bedrooms or feed those rats. Felius always had this habit of undermining his own work, even if, facts were, that we are all spoiled rotten on his great cooking.

"They were delicious, Fel. Make me some too for those fools, in fact, as well."

Because, alright, maybe I do wanna feed my scrubs too. We are a team, after all. I guess.

I watch him nod with a smile and move to head out of the kitchen, my dad now too busy reading the back of some package snack.

"Did you know that xanthan gum is an exopolysaccharide? Which is a sugary slime secreted by the bacteria Xanthomonas campestris, and that the gum is used in the food industry as a thickener with the amazing property of getting thinner the moment you shake or squirt it? It is used in toothpastes, or in drinks for people who have difficulty swallowing. In fact I was reading this research paper the other day and-..."

I nod. "That's great, dad. I am sure Feli will hear the rest. The Bucks game must have begun."

My dad smiles in return. "Of course. Will call you all when dinner is done. So, where was I..."

I quickly see myself out. Again, I love my dad. He is amazing. Brilliant. But my brain can only carry so much. That's why Ruka is around. He is the only one that meets our dad one-to-one on these kinda topics.

Fatigue finds itself oozing into my bones. I don't even know why - I was planning on doing a workout into the night before bed. The rest of the house is seemingly quiet, but if you were to listen carefully enough, springs of voices and movements would fill the spaces around you in no time. It is a ceaseless buzz, and it feels like so much has happened - because, I figure, it in fact did -.

I exhaled tightly, plopping myself down the living room sofa and switch on the TV for the game. I am half-watching it, anyways. I drift back and forth. Between Celeste and our new status. Did she post the breakup story yet? My ranking. I am good. But not great. I have good offers. But not great offers. Illinois is very good - they gave me an offer, but I am not committed yet. My scouting needs to improve.

This year and the next two are crucial. For now, I am alright. For now, only. I am still lacking. My lateral movements needs to improve. My jumper-shot too. I am weak on the defense. Not responsive enough in the paint. Maybe I need to lift more. Have some gains. Get stronger.

ping

My gaze flicks down to my phone.

Idris

Giannis is killing it this game, Dar.

MVP level. 💪🏿

Btw

Bailey really misses you

She even drew you this week at daycare 😄😅

Will show you

I look better tho

I smile. Oh yeah? I chuckle and figure out what to text back.

"Who ya textin'?"

A small weight of chromed studs, spikes, leather pockets and way too many acrylic pins and sewn patches decides to flop above me. Shaye went all out on their outfit today as well. They wear two chokers - one with long spikes that dig unpleasantly into my sides, the other ending with a lock which must weight more than someone is comfortable with wearing. Their battle jacket is overriden in handmade embroidery, patches and pins. A ring (or more) on each finger, endless rows of elastic, metal, beaded or braided bracelets hugging their slim lace-sleeved arms. Their locs are painfully overgrown (need to grab and drag them to the nearest barbershop), smudged eyeliner, chipped nailpolish, their growing ear piercing collection glinting back at me. They look like they just came outta hibernation and need a cold shower. Or several. And a haircut.

"Get off me. You are spiky." I attempt to nudge them off, but Shaye wraps themselves like a sloth around my waist, the spikes and studs sinking deeper into me.

"Nah... you warm." They look up and give me a childish pout that just happens to work 100% cuz of their dimples and pudgey babyfat.

I sigh, eyeroll painfully obvious, but nod. Shaye smiles brightest then, fully putting on display their fresh (only made last week) dahlia bites and smiley pierce. It took mom and dad some convincing but so long the babies are happy, all is great. All is well. Guess I won't be watching the rest of the game now.

"Watcha wanna watch?"

"Yellowjackets!!! I watched the first season with Alex. Need to catch up!"

I tilt my head at that. "Aha." Fact is, Alex could never possibly say no to Shaye. Could I? Yes. Will I?

"Sure. Let's watch."

I will need to text Dris later to ask him about the game. Grab some highlights. Make myself the shopping list for everything Feli needs. Ask mom about-...

"You ok, Dar?"

"Huh?" I look down and catch Shaye eyeing me curiously. Something, almost akin to concern, swimming in their irises. It makes me stir unconsciously.

"Yeah, I am great. Just a lot on my mind."

Shaye nods, as they find themselves a comfortable position - which is only more uncomfortable on my end.

"Well switch your brain off. We watching Yellowjackets together. Just focus on that."

I nod. Yeah. That sounds about right. For now, it is.

~~~

Notes (yep I now do these as well)

omakase - is a Japanese dining experience that involves placing one's trust in the chef's culinary skills to create a personalized meal. The term omakase translates to "I leave it up to you," which reflects the diner's willingness to relinquish control over their meal to the chef.

Some brief notes on the ranking and recruiting system in USA - In USA, college coaches and scouts attend high school games and workouts, watch players on film and write reports on what they observe. That is how college programs determine which players to watch, meet with and whom to offer scholarships. The data is then evaluated by ESPN Recruiting which releases and updates periodically their Top 100 Rankings of highschool players per each graduate class (eg. Class of 2023). The recruit grading is also 'star' based from 1 to 5 stars. You can go check ESPN's official site to check out the actual rankings.

shawty - is an American slang used as a term of endearment but largely referred in regards to a young and attractive woman.

ion - "I only"

ice - slang for diamonds

tryna - "trying to"

cuz - typically refers to a cousin, friend, or homie in an informal friendly manner.

totes - "totally"

SoCal - Southern California

KDs - refers to NBA player Kevin Durant's Nike shoe line.

genkan - are traditional Japanese entryway areas for a house, apartment, or building, a combination of a porch and a doormat.

quint - quintuplet; any of five children born at the same time to the same mother. (note: Darian is a quintuplet - feels relevant to point that one out - him and his sibs Felius, Ariel, Izan, and Ruka form a very eclectic bunch. Big family; I know I know)

epis - is a Haitian seasoning base that consists of fresh ingredients.

pate kòdes - are fried Haitian patties.

Extra note: Alex belongs to @of-wine-and-ecstasy. We are doing a meta-crossover here. shush.

If I missed anything, please do let me know. I will edit in eventual typos or inconsistencies later on.

Thanks for reading! <3333

1. the 4.5-star boy

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