The door felt heavier than it should have.
Malik stood there for three full seconds before unlocking it.
Three seconds was enough time to change his mind.
He didn't.
The lock clicked.
He opened the door halfway.
Marcus didn't smile.
He never did when things mattered.
Up close, the streetlight version of him disappeared. Now he was just Marcus - tall, controlled, eyes sharp enough to cut through excuses.
"You really making me come up here?" Marcus asked quietly.
His voice wasn't angry.
That was worse.
Malik leaned against the doorframe slightly, blocking the entrance without making it obvious.
"You didn't have to come," Malik replied.
Marcus glanced down the hallway, then back at him.
"You stopped answering."
"That doesn't mean pull up to my place."
A small silence stretched between them.
Marcus studied him.
Not his face.
His posture.
His hesitation.
"You changed," Marcus said finally.
There it was again.
Malik didn't respond this time.
Marcus shifted his weight. "We're moving tonight. It's important."
Malik's jaw tightened. "Important how?"
"You don't need details. You just need to show up."
That used to be enough.
It used to feel like purpose.
Malik felt his pulse steady instead of spike. That surprised him.
"I'm not moving like that anymore."
Marcus's expression didn't crack - but something behind his eyes cooled.
"So that's it?"
"It's not about you."
"It never is when somebody switches up."
Malik stepped out into the hallway, closing the apartment door gently behind him.
He didn't want the conversation inside.
Not even by accident.
Marcus noticed.
His eyes flicked to the door.
Then back to Malik.
"What you got in there?" Marcus asked.
"Nothing."
Marcus stepped closer.
Close enough that the old energy returned for a split second. The memory of running side by side. Of standing shoulder to shoulder when things got loud.
"You scared now?" Marcus asked.
"No."
"Then what?"
Malik held his gaze.
"I'm done."
That word hit different.
Marcus stared at him for a long moment.
"Done don't work like that," Marcus said quietly. "You don't just clock out."
A sound came from inside the apartment.
Soft.
Small.
Marcus's eyes shifted immediately.
Malik moved faster.
He stepped between Marcus and the door without thinking.
"It's nothing," Malik said quickly.
Marcus didn't blink.
"That didn't sound like nothing."
Another sound.
This time clearer.
A sleepy voice.
"...Dad?"
Everything changed.
The hallway felt smaller.
The air thinner.
Marcus's expression froze - not in anger.
In confusion.
"Dad?" Marcus repeated.
Malik swallowed.
He hadn't planned this moment.
He hadn't rehearsed it.
He hadn't wanted Marcus anywhere near it.
The door behind him creaked slightly.
A tiny hand wrapped around the edge.
Malik turned instinctively.
His son stood there barefoot, eyes heavy with sleep, small shirt twisted slightly at the collar.
He looked up at Malik first.
Then at Marcus.
And smiled faintly.
"You loud," the boy mumbled.
Marcus didn't speak.
Didn't move.
For the first time since Malik had known him, Marcus looked... uncertain.
Malik crouched immediately.
"Go back inside," he said softly. "I'm coming."
The boy nodded slowly, trusting without question. He turned and padded back down the hallway.
The door remained open just enough for the warm light inside to spill out.
Marcus finally exhaled.
"That's why?" he asked.
Malik stood.
"Yes."
A long silence followed.
Marcus looked past him again, but this time not with suspicion.
With understanding he didn't want.
"You got a kid," Marcus said quietly.
Malik nodded once.
"How long?"
"Long enough."
Marcus ran a hand down his face slowly.
"So all that 'I'm busy' wasn't about you acting different."
"It is different," Malik replied. "I am."
Marcus looked at him again - really looked.
The hesitation made sense now.
The distance.
The refusal.
"You should've said something."
Malik gave a short breath of a laugh.
"And what? Asked for permission?"
Marcus didn't answer.
Because they both knew that wasn't how things worked before.
Another small voice drifted from inside.
"Dad?"
Malik didn't hesitate this time.
"I'm coming."
He looked back at Marcus.
"I can't move how we used to."
Marcus stared at him for a long moment.
Then finally nodded once.
Not approval.
Not agreement.
Just acknowledgment.
"You choosing this?" Marcus asked.
"Yes."
Marcus stepped back.
"You don't get to come halfway anymore."
"I know."
Another pause.
Then Marcus turned toward the elevator.
"Different," he muttered again.
But this time it didn't sound like an insult.
The elevator doors slid open.
Marcus stepped inside.
The doors closed.
Malik stood there until the hum of the elevator faded.
Then he stepped back into his apartment.
Locked the door.
And leaned against it.
Down the hallway, his son stood waiting.
Sleepy.
Safe.
Malik walked toward him.
And for the first time that night-
The silence didn't feel heavy.