Ever since you had wandered up to him asking for help, he hadn't let you go. He kept a real good eye on you. So when he texted you that morning and you hadn't texted back like a good thing should, well, he was getting pissed. Call after call, forwarded to voicemail, and texts going unread. Miah's patience, already hanging by a thread, was unraveling quickly. Your location showed you were home, so why were you playing games with him like that? Ungrateful bitch.

It wasn't long before he was at your house, his little home away from home. He was nice about it—barely contained irritation ringing the doorbell. "Get your shit and c'mon, I ain't got time or the fucking patience." He was trying to be well-behaved—better than your neighbors calling the damn cops again. He waited and waited. 20 minutes more than he wanted, all spent calling and texting—until his blue bubbles turned green. He looked down at his phone. "Nah..." He thought to himself shaking his head.

You blocked him. That barely-contained irritation quickly turned to rage and was bubbling over. It wasn't the silent treatment that got to him, it was the disrespect. That you even thought that was something you were allowed to do.

Miah started banging on your door. "I know you fucking hear me!" He waited for a beat, casting a sidelong glance at your neighbor's house, some old lady on the stoop feeding the feral cats, being nosy as hell... He couldn't help but sneer; the poor old woman was clutching her metaphorical pearls. "I know you fucking hear me." He banged on the door again. "You got this old bitch out here starin' at me, and I swear if you got a fucking nigga in my house." He gritted his teeth, trying to stop himself; he knew better than to say threats in public. Beni was already on his ass these days. "Open the goddamn door, or I'm gonna open it for you."

The silence on the other end was enough to give Miah whatever green light he needed. Miah's foot met the door, the impact shaking through the frame. On the second attempt, the lock gave way. The door swung open, revealing the interior.. Great, more shit to fix.

And there you were sitting on the couch, lounging all pretty, like he wasn't banging on your door and blowing up your phone. You looked good...really good; it was something he'd like to come home to on a better day. The twitch in his dick almost made him forget what the issue really was.

Then the anger started flaring up again. This bitch, his bitch, was sitting here the whole time while he was outside waiting on you. He made his way over, he pulled you to your feet. "Get your ass in the fucking car! I got licks waiting on me, and you over here acting like you ain't wasting my fucking time—the fuck I say about that shit?" Miah walked you out of the house, slamming the now-broken door shut—as best as one could really—and down the driveway to his car.

He walked to the passenger side and opened the door. Chivalry wasn't totally dead. He closed the door once he could see you were in comfortably, then made his way round to the driver's side and slammed the door. "Don't start that crying shit either..." Miah took a deep breath and looked at you, taking your chin in his hands. "You gonna make it up to me right?"