Messiah stood abruptly and walked out of the room, disappearing into the bathroom in the hall. Bleu rose, and her gut flipped as she heard him fighting himself from behind the closed door. He was resisting sobs so badly that her eyes watered, then her tears fell. She covered her mouth with one hand and closed her eyes. He was hurt, and Bleu felt it. She had never judged Morgan, never felt ill will toward her. She thought Mo was a beautiful girl with a spirit so kind that she emitted light, but in this moment, as she witnessed the peeling of Messiah’s soul, Bleu hated her. There was a line that people who loved each other should respect, and Morgan had crossed it by hiding Messiah’s children. Then again, she also acknowledged the fact that Messiah had blurred the lines long ago when he had left town so unremorsefully. Bleu’s heart was cut open for everyone involved. For herself. For Messiah. For Morgan. For Meek. Most importantly, for the children who were caught in the middle. The twins were beautiful and around the same age as the son she’d lost would have been. Just seeing them cut her deeply. Messiah pulled open the door, and the only evidence of his undoing were his red eyes. She looked up at him, and the stare between them was weighted. A broken man stood before her. He surprised her when he reached for her, pulling her into him and then losing his resolve as he bent into her, melting, imploding as he pulled her to the floor.

“Shh.”

Bleu sat, leaning against the wall, and Messiah lay in her lap, on his back as he trained his stare onto the ceiling. She had no idea how much he needed her in this moment.

“I’m fucked up, B,” he admitted.

“Anybody would be, Messiah. It’s a lot,” she answered. “So much has happened, but you’re a father. You’re somebody’s daddy, and they’re sooo cute. Oh my God, they have her whole face and your whole attitude. They’re beautiful.” Bleu laughed.

“They gang like a mu’fucka,” Messiah said, smirking. “Bad little mu’fuckas, man. Just looking at them light-skinned mu’fuckas, you wouldn’t think a nigga had nothing to do with it. Ol’ R&B-singing-looking-ass kids.” He snickered as he shook his head. He could hardly believe they belonged to him. “How they get so mean, yo? They some lil’ thugs.”

Bleu laughed. “And who you think they get that from?” she asked, smiling.

She looked down at him, and they both grew silent.

“My shit tore open, B. Like my shits ain’t even inside my chest no more,” Messiah said.

“I’ll keep it for you,” she said. “Keep it beating, remember?”