The "office" was Marcus's bedroom — a tiny box with a twin bed, a desk cluttered with papers, and a beat-up gaming chair that leaned a little too much to the left if you sat wrong.
Devonte plopped down on the bed, kicking his sneakers off like he owned the place.
"Damn, you neat as hell," he said, looking around. "You clean this up for me, huh? Tryna impress yo' boss?"
Marcus didn't even look up from his laptop. "Nigga, you ain't even the CEO. You the intern."
"Man, stop playin'. I'm CEO, CFO, head of HR, and lunch lady." Devonte laughed, grabbing a sketch Marcus had left on the dresser. "Damn, this hard though. You draw this from scratch?"
"No, I printed it out the sky. Course I did," Marcus said, rolling his eyes.
Devonte whistled. "Yeah, you gon' be rich rich one day, boy. Don't forget about me when you on Forbes."
Marcus felt his cheeks warm. He shrugged it off and flipped his screen toward Devonte. A mock-up of the BlkSoul logo glowed — clean lines, sharp lettering, a crown floating above the 'B.'
"Sheeeesh!" Devonte said, smacking his knee. "Nigga, we lookin' like a whole brand already!"
Marcus couldn't help but grin. Compliments hit different coming from Devonte.
"Alright," Marcus said, tapping keys. "So first drop gotta be simple. Hoodies, tees. Black and white. Maybe a lil' pop of color if we feeling bold."
"Yeah, like a red or somethin'. Make it pop pop," Devonte said, snapping his fingers twice like he was on a cooking show.
Marcus chuckled. "This why you not allowed to make design decisions."
Devonte threw a pillow at him. Missed by a mile.
"Aye, shut yo' ass up and lemme dream," Devonte said, stretching out across Marcus's bed like he paid rent there.
Marcus tried — really tried — to stay focused. But it was damn near impossible with Devonte laid out like that, hoodie riding up a little, showing a line of tattooed skin across his waist.
God was really testing him.
"You just gon' stare at me or you tryna work?" Devonte said, smirking.
Marcus snapped his head back to the laptop, mortified. "Boy, shut up!"
Devonte laughed, that deep, warm belly laugh that made Marcus wanna either fight him or kiss him.
Maybe both.
---
An Hour Later…
They had two hoodie designs sketched up, a basic website plan, and about twelve bad jokes between them.
"Yo," Devonte said, sitting up suddenly, serious. "You ever thought about, like...doin' this for real?"
Marcus blinked. "What you mean?"
"I mean like...fuck college. Buildin' shit from scratch. Our shit. Not workin' for some white dude tryna lowball us."
Marcus leaned back in his chair. He had thought about it. More times than he'd admit.
But dreams felt...dangerous. Like saying it out loud might jinx it.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "All the time."
Devonte smiled slow. "Then we do it. Just us. BlkSoul. Nobody else."
Marcus nodded.
Maybe they really could.
---
They were getting somewhere when—
"Aye, what y'all lil badasses doin' up in here?" a voice called from downstairs.
It was Tamia — Marcus's cousin, loud as hell like always.
"Mindin' our business, Mimi!" Marcus yelled back.
Tamia stomped up the stairs anyway, barging in with her bonnet half-on and Chick-fil-A bag swinging in her hand.
"Boy, don't nobody want yo' crusty-ass attitude. Here," she said, tossing Marcus a chicken sandwich. "You look like you about to pass out."
Devonte snatched it midair. "Appreciate you, fam."
"I brought that for Marcus, greedy!" Tamia said, smacking Devonte upside the head.
"Sharing is caring, damn," Devonte whined, already unwrapping the sandwich.
Marcus just shook his head, laughing.
Business meetings at Marcus's house were always gonna be ghetto, and honestly? He wouldn't have it any other way.
---
Later That Night
After Tamia dipped and the laptop finally died, Devonte stayed posted on Marcus's bed, scrolling through his phone.
"Aye," he said, glancing up. "You ever think like...what if you ain't just like...good at design? What if you, like...chosen for this shit?"
Marcus gave him a look. "You high?"
Devonte laughed. "Naw, for real! Like...everybody good at somethin'. But you? You different, bro."
Marcus felt the words land heavy in his chest.
Nobody talked to him like that. Not teachers, not even his moms.
Just Devonte.
"Thanks, man," he said, voice low.
Devonte grinned. "Don't thank me yet. Wait til we millionaires. Then you can buy me a Tesla."
Marcus laughed, feeling lighter than he had all week.
Maybe this wasn't just a dumb dream after all.