Guns and Roses

One real word at a time.

Saint-Laurent

I should’ve known she’d snap.

But I ain’t think it’d hit like that.

When she came charging down that hallway, eyes burning, mouth moving a mile a minute, I swear my chest felt like it cracked open. I was ready for her—ready for her rage, her insults, her voice in my damn ears again. I knew I kinda took the Tyrol thing too far cause I still beat him up some more after school so I kinda knew she’d be mad cause the rumor was spreading that I did it in her name. Which is 99.9% true. Don’t worry about the 0.01% so I had expected anything. Anything but silence.

Silence was driving me insane.

The two weeks she ignored me were the longest of my life. I’d sit in the back of bio just watching her braid her fingers together. Watch her lips move when she whispered to her friends. Watch her not look at me. Not once.

I could handle a lot of things. Cops. Rivals. Even my own demons at 3 a.m.

But Genevieve’s silence? That s**t hurt.

I threw tantrums like a damn child. I was crashing out real bad. I Pushed people. Glared at teachers. Took it out on the world because I couldn’t take it out on her. And today, when that lanky punk stepped on my toe and acted like it was my fault?

I lost it. Simple.

Didn’t even think. My fist moved before my brain did. Blood, screams, the usual chaos.

And then she was there. Genevieve. Looking like every reason I ever broke rules, skipped class, smoked to forget my name.

She dragged me to the back of class silently after some boys managed to peel me off of him.

“You are a bully. You’re childish. You act like the world owes you something and then you act shocked when it doesn’t give it to you.”

She said it so smooth. No yelling. Just truth. Sharp and steady.

I swear, I would’ve rather she punched me.

“I’m not some girl you can scare into liking you,” she said. “You could punch ten boys in the face and it still won’t change my mind.”

My jaw clenched so tight I felt my teeth grind.

I wasn’t tryna scare her. I was tryna reach her. The only way I knew how. Fists, stares, tension in my shoulders that never let up. I ain’t grow up on love letters and candy hearts. I grew up on locked doors and gunshots outside the window.

“I just… I don’t know how to do this s**t,” I muttered. “Talkin’. Feelings. You got me twisted up, Geni.”

But she wasn’t buying it. Arms crossed. Voice cold.

“Well, get untwisted,” she said. “Because if you wanna be in my space, you better grow up. I don’t play little boy games, Saint-Laurent.”

Then she walked away.

And for once, I didn’t chase.

I just stood there, blood dripping from my knuckles, staring down the empty hallway like maybe it’d give me a do-over. It didn’t.

That girl ain’t scared of me. And somehow, that makes me want her even more.

Not to own her. Not to control her.

Just to deserve her.

And for a boy like me, that’s scarier than anything.

————————————————————————

I never asked nobody for advice before.

Not once.

Not when Maa dipped out on us. Not when Paa got locked up. Not when I had to learn how to bag pills and count money before I even got my learner’s permit.

Emotions? Man, I learned how to bottle those up so tight, they rattled inside me like loose change. Numb was easier. You can’t break what you can’t feel, right?

But now? Now I feel everything. Raw. Loud. No off-switch.

And her voice-Genevieve’s voice-won’t get the f**k outta my head.

“You better grow up. I don’t play little boy games, Saint-Laurent.”

That’s why I found myself posted up outside Dre’s place after dark. Dre was my cousin, my maa’ sister’s boy. Ten years older, been through it all twice. Streetwise, lowkey, always had a bottle of something and a word of warning. I used to think he was just bitter.

Now I think maybe he was just tired.

I knocked on his door, two quick raps. His voice came through raspy: “It’s open.”

I stepped in, hoodie pulled low. Dre was sitting on his worn-out couch, basketball game muted on the TV, blunt in one hand and a PS4 controller in the other.

He looked up, squinted. “Leo? You in some s**t again?”

I didn’t sit right away. “Nah. Not the usual kind.”

He smirked, exhaled. “Girl trouble?”

I stayed quiet.

That was all he needed. He patted the couch. “Sit your hard-headed ass down.”

I dropped next to him, elbows on my knees, staring at the carpet like it had answers.

He passed me the blunt, but but I waved it off. I needed my head clear for this.

“You in love or you just obsessed?” he asked, like he was talking about sneakers.

I looked at him. “What’s the difference?”

He leaned back, eyes half-lidded. “Obsession is when you wanna own somebody. Love is when you wanna protect ‘em, even if it’s from you.”

That hit me harder than I expected.

I rubbed my face. “I feel like… I don’t know how to do this. Like, I want her to look at me, talk to me, but when she don’t—it’s like I forget how to breathe. I been actin’ out, tryna get her attention, but now she think I’m immature. And maybe she’s right.”

“She is,” Dre said flat. “You act like a damn child when you don’t get your way.”

That stung. But I didn’t argue.

“I ain’t never had to do this before,” I admitted, real low. “Care for someone like this. I used to think feelings was a weakness. Now I’m feelin’ everything at once and it’s making me wild.”

Dre took another pull, then nodded. “You grew up in survival mode. That ain’t your fault. But staying stuck there? That’s a choice.”

I leaned back against the cushion, fists clenched on my lap.

“If I don’t fix it,” I said, “I’ma lose her.”

He looked at me then, all seriousness. “You already know what to do. Stop throwin’ tantrums. Learn how to talk to her. Say what you feel—without bleeding on everybody around you. That girl ain’t gonna play games with you, Leo. She’ll leave.”

I swallowed hard.

He was right.

She would leave.

And I couldn’t let that happen.

“I don’t wanna scare her off,” I muttered. “But I don’t wanna lose who I am either.”

“Then grow into someone better,” Dre said, standing up to grab another beer. “Ain’t nobody saying change your whole skin. Just learn how to wear it right.”

I nodded slow. My chest still felt tight, but there was clarity now.

Time to grow up.

Time to show her that Saint-Laurent Leo ain’t just fists and fury.

I could feel, too.

And I’d prove it, one real word at a time.