He made his way to the building and defied his heavy heart as he placed knuckles to the space next to the metal 3 on the door. The number pulled a sentiment from him that was rooted in friendship. Three. Three hardheaded boys who had come up from the sandbox with nothing but ambition and pride to carry them to the top. Three friends. Three brothers. A bond so solid that they had survived war after war on concrete battle grounds. Messiah. Isa. Ahmeek. MIA because opposition knew that’s what would occur if there was ever static. The Crew would leave niggas MIA for anything less than respect. Messiah’s disappearance had demolished them all; his reappearance had torn down the frame that was left standing within Ahmeek. He knew they could never go back to being the same. Their love for the same girl had changed them. Still, he knocked because behind every inch of disagreement in his heart, he had just found out his brother had two kids. He had just found out that the brother who felt nothing was feeling everything right now, and he wasn’t sure if he could handle the flood of emotions.

He could hear Yara’s cries all the way through the door, and his heart pulled inside his chest. He wasn’t sure the twins could handle the sudden change either.

Surprise greeted him when Bleu pulled open the door.

“Ahmeek,” she greeted, a bit of relief in her tone. “Did you know?” she asked.

“Nah, B. I didn’t know this,” Ahmeek answered solemnly.

She stepped aside and motioned for Meek to enter.

“Yara, baby girl, you’re killing me. What’s wrong? What do you want, huh? What Daddy got to do to make you stop crying?” Messiah rounded the corner and reentered the living room, and when he saw Ahmeek, he stilled. “Fuck you doing here?”

“I heard, man,” Ahmeek replied.

“You trying to say you ain’t know?” Messiah barked. “Fuck you too, nigga. You knew that shit.”

“I don’t condone bullshit. You know that ain’t my vibe, G. I thought they belonged to Bash,” Meek answered. “She made it seem like—”

“She was hoeing with that nigga while I was around. Shorty would rather let me think she a ho than be attached to me,” Messiah said, face broken in disbelief and anguish. Yara wailed in his arms and reached for Ahmeek, opening her fists and closing them repeatedly in desperation. Ahmeek could see the brokenness in Messiah as Yara practically lunged for him.

“Just take her, man,” Messiah said. “She don’t want me.”

Ahmeek reached for Yara, and like magic, those cries calmed. She was so worked up she hyperventilated a bit, lip trembling, chest heaving as she laid her head on Ahmeek’s chest. Another shirt ruined. It was insult on top of Messiah’s injured heart.

Meek saw Messari peek out of the bedroom.