Page 143 of Falling Into Gravity

Last time that I checked.

The beat kept rocking.

Bu stepped back and motioned at Malik. “Let’s see what you talkin’ ‘bout nigga.”

Malik cracked his neck with a smirk. Without looking at nobody, he slid straight into it.

Aku chewed her lip. Her man was super fine.

That Crip walk was something serious.Clean. Controlled. Blue laces swinging. He didn’t overdo it—he didn’t have to. That shit was elegant in its own way. Real Crescent boy footwork. His shoulders dipped low, arms relaxed, steps slicing the deck like the beat owed him money.

When YG’s part came in, Bu remixed it, head still bobbing watching Malik’s footwork. “Malik told you fuck the middle man, I told you I love my bitch.”

Noodle cracked up harder.

Their Black men dancing on that yacht felt like poetry—a love letter to the hood.

Two kings, two sets, two different journeys that could’ve ended in war—but instead they met right here, on the water, under the stars, letting their bodies speak in ways bullets never could…under Lunar’s moon.

By the time Malik landed his last step, they met in the middle again - face to face, grinning and nodding at each other. Noodleand Aku were clapping and yelling like they were at a sold-out concert.

Black boy joy spilled all over that deck. No corny shit - just two men choosing unity, choosing love, choosing to dance instead of fight…choosing family.

Bu threw an arm around Malik’s shoulders, pulled him in like a brother. “You aight wit’ me, nigga,” he muttered.

Malik laughed, shaking his head. “’Bout time, nigga.”

When they hugged, Malik fell into Bu more, getting choked up.

“As long as you got her, I got you, nigga,” Bu confirmed.

Off to the side, Noodle and Aku stood watching—tears threatening to spill.

Their men were good.

Their future was golden.

Aku felt likeeverything might just be alright.

Later that night, back in their room on the boat, Aku straddled his lap on the bed, untying the bikini strings with her mouth full of stories and love.

“You really posted us?” she teased, tossing her phone to the bed after ogling over their images on both IG and Plugged In.

“I’d post you every day if I thought you wouldn’t get snatched up.”

“Boy, I’m yours. You don’t need no Instagram to prove it.”

“I know. But the world should know it too.”

He ran his hands over her thighs, up her sides, gripping her like she was still new to him. She kissed his forehead, then his cheek, then his lips.

“You gon’ be a good Black man,” she whispered, the words coming out before she even realized she said them.

He looked up at her, heart suddenly in his throat. “You ready to tell French?”

“Shiiiddd,” she laughed. “Let’s just make it off this yacht first.”

They both laughed, and he flipped her gently onto her back, kissing the baby-soft skin of her stomach.

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