The room was dark, except for the pale glow of Malik's screen saver bouncing in the corner.
He was dead asleep—face half-sunk into his pillow, blanket tangled around one leg, hoodie still on from earlier. The faint tick-tick of his ceiling fan mixed with the slow murmur of a smooth, remixed instrumental in his ears. Something lo-fi. A lazy trumpet echoing over soft snares. It was a beat from a guy on SoundCloud who always added this flaming logo at the end of his tracks. Malik had looped it three times without noticing.
Bzzz.
His phone buzzed once on his nightstand.
Then again.
Then again.
Bzz-Bzz.
Ding.
Ding.
He flinched slightly in his sleep, brow twitching.
Another ding. Then three more in a row. Then a vibration so long it made his phone skitter across the wooden surface like it had somewhere urgent to be.
Malik groaned.
Eyes still closed, he reached out blindly, smacking the nightstand until his hand landed on the phone. He gripped it and slammed it face-down. The notifications slowed. His shoulders sank again. Sleep threatened to take him back—
—until it finally did.
—
It was around 4:30 AM when the front door clicked open.
Keys jingled. Shoes kicked off.
Malik stirred. Groggy, blinking hard, earbuds still faintly humming. He sat up halfway in bed, hoodie clinging to his neck.
"…Andre?"
"In the flesh," came his brother's voice from the hallway.
Malik yawned and stretched, dragging himself out of bed and padding into the living room.
Andre was pulling off his coat, the collar popped and hair slightly wind-tossed like he'd been walking through a wind tunnel. He looked tired but smirked when he saw Malik squinting at him like a suspicious cat.
"So," Malik said, rubbing his eyes. "Did brunch go well, or did she finally poison you and bury the body?"
"Oh, you mean the brunch that turned into dinner that turned into a two-hour conversation about wedding dresses?"
Malik blinked. "Wedding… dresses?"
Andre dropped into the couch with a grunt. "We haven't even agreed on what movie we're watching next week and she talkin' about centerpieces and lighting themes."
"R.I.P. Andre Rivers," Malik said, grabbing a throw pillow and tossing it lazily at his brother. "Taken too soon by white linens and Pinterest boards."
They both laughed, voices low to avoid waking the neighbors.
Andre leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "We're cursed, bro."
"I'm just glad you're the older one," Malik grinned. "You get to walk into all the traps first."
"Wow," Andre said, cracking one eye open. "You're lucky I love you."
Just then, ding.
Andre's phone lit up in his hand. He glanced at it. Notification from Instagram.
"Huh," he muttered.
Malik raised a brow. "What?"
"Someone tagged me in something. Probably her. Probably a meme about tuxedos."
Malik stood and stretched again. "We eatin', or going back to sleep? 'Cause I'm not tryna be late for work and starve."
"I'll make breakfast," Andre said, slipping the phone into his pocket without checking it. "I'm already up, might as well watch some TV too."
Malik yawned. "Cool. Just save me some. I'm not skipping meals for minimum wage again."
As he started walking back toward his room, Andre called after him. "You really need to get yourself a girl, man."
Malik paused at the doorway, already smirking.
Andre continued, "Can't even imagine a girl tolerating you though. All quiet and awkward, talking to yourself in rhyme schemes."
"Night, Andre."
"You mean morning," he teased.
—
Later That Morning…
Malik woke to the faint chime of his alarm—and immediately reached over to shut it off. He was already up.
Sort of.
Eyes half-closed, feet dragging, he went to splash water on his face and threw on fresh clothes. Bodega shift in less than an hour.
When he picked up his phone, it lit up like a slot machine.
Buzz. Ding. Buzz. Ding.
Instagram notifications.
He frowned.
[User123 followed you.]
[User456 liked your post.]
[New DM request.]
["🔥🔥 bro this goes hard!!"]
["You dropped this 🐐."]
He blinked at the screen, scrolling slowly.
"What the hell…"
More followed. New comments. Mentions. Even some usernames he didn't recognize tagging his handle. His heart started doing this weird flutter thing in his chest.
A thousand thoughts hit at once.
Did someone leak something? Was it Andre? Did I post an embarrassing photo? No—wait…
His stomach dropped.
The upload.
His head snapped toward his desk.
Last night. The Instagram sign-up.. The accidental click.
"Aw, hell no."
He moved to knock on Andre's door, but before he could, it opened.
Andre stood there, toothbrush in his mouth, phone in hand.
He raised a brow and smiled slightly, pulling the toothbrush out.
"You see it?"
Malik blinked. "See… what?"
Andre chuckled. "You're kinda blowin' up, little bro."
Malik opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again.
"I—I didn't mean to post anything, I thought it was a photo! I didn't check! Why are people looking at it?! Who even shared it?! I'm not even—it's just a dumb photo!"
Andre leaned on the doorframe, clearly enjoying this.
"Relax. Breathe."
"I'm breathing fine!" Malik snapped. "Just—why is this even happening? I'm not—I didn't want this—"
"Then check your account," Andre said. "See it for yourself."
Malik hesitated.
Then unlocked his phone.
Opened Instagram.
And stopped cold.
His profile was lit up like a Christmas tree. Comments everywhere. DMs still piling in. The single audio file—the accidental post—was still there.
The post had been up for less than twelve hours.
Over 30,000 views.
1,000 followers.
And rising.
He stared at it, thumb hovering over the screen like it was going to bite him.
Andre clapped a hand on his shoulder, still smirking.
"Told you," he said. "You've got something."
Malik didn't say anything.
Just stood there…
…fidgeting with his phone.