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Garden (Say It Like Dat)

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Odell sat off to the side, watching, entranced, as the blunt between his lips bobbed up and down as he continued to argue with Rihanna.

The glances he kept giving him was enough to tell him that he wouldn't be staying long, and he examined his numerous tattoos, sulking like someone's neglected toddler. Odell was well past the age of sippy cups and knew that Aubrey was too grown to be leaving calls from one of the biggest stars in the world and a potential business partner unpicked for some football dick.

No one said he couldn't sulk.

Besides, the new hairstyle Odell had convinced his lover to try was looking good, and he had hoped to have a little more time to admire it, preferably from between his thighs.

It felt like two and a half eternities had passed them by when Aubrey finally slid his phone back into the sweatpants Odell'd been plotting to get off just a few minutes ago. "Look Dell, I gotta–"

"Ight." And with an apologetic kiss to his temple, he was gone.

The unmistakable sound of the door shutting rang through the apartment, and Odell reluctantly got up. He was hungry, and the cold bowl of popcorn by his foot was just making him bitter.

As he pulled out two slices of whole-grain and rifled through the fridge for mayo, ham, lettuce, and the pineapple rings Shep had bought for him a couple days ago, all Odell could feel was frustration.

It was supposed to be their night. Just one night away from the field and the studio and the pressure and their exes(especially his exes), but the Fates didn't seem too intent on letting Odell enjoy more than 45 non-work related minutes with Aubrey before whisking him away to do god knows what.

That wasn't even enough to get through one (1) Studio Ghibli film.

He shoved the bread in his toaster and rummaged around for a chef's knife to chop the lettuce with. Odell didn't believe he was a stupid person. He knew Aubrey had too many obligations, too many things that superceded him on his list of priorities, for either of them to come out of this unscathed. And it's not like Odell could claim to be putting his all into whatever this was, what with all the losses nd injuries of the previous season.

Whatever. They were still going to have movie night at some unplanned future date and Odell would inevitably be left alone, chopping up suspiciously green lettuce.

He was going to get hurt and he had his compromising ratio of brains to heart to blame for that.

DING!

Odell snatched the slightly burnt toast out, using the chef's knife to lather both slices in mayo.

Was there even a situation, or just Rih getting Aubrey caught up again?

That wasn't fair. Except Odell was left to tape together his own broken heart when he received wind that Aub- Drake had declared his undying love for someone other than him in front of a nation.

Aubrey didn't love her, Odell knew that much, but he also knew Drake did. And Drake was the face millions of Americans saw that night.

And so Odell couldn't blame him, too much anyways. He knew about keeping up appearances, playing as star wide receiver in the most 'masculine' game in the world.

Not that he'd been doing much playing last season.

"Shit!"

A drop of blood stained the shiny white of the mayo and Odell used his free hand to wipe that glob away. Now he was going to have to search for a band-aid, maybe even some gauze.

Serves him right for being too lazy to grab a butter knife. Now he had a cut on his hand to match the one on his heart.

Odell yanked open drawers and unzipped bags, trying his best to avoid excessive blood spillage onto the furniture as he rummaged for band-aids he knew he didn't have.

If there was one thing Odell was good at, it was pretending that even the most pointless of his endeavors had some kind of end game, some big payout that would make everything worth it.

Hot tears pulled at the corners of his eyes, and he sunk down onto her wooden floors, his blood dripping onto his favorite one of Aubrey's OVO hoodies.

"I got too distracted to ask earlier, but why's your hand wrapped up like that? You good?" Odell avoided his lover's eyes, shifting so that the blanket covered his bare lower body.

"It's fine. Jus' a surface wound."

He looked like he didn't believe him, and Odell leaned in, pecking the corner of his mouth before getting up.

After all, he was hungry.