Monday Morning — The Email That Changed Everything
Marcus woke up to the sound of his mom yelling from downstairs.
"BOY! Netflix just emailed your ass! Get up before I slap the sleep off you!"
He stumbled out the bed, half-blind, still in his cracked BlkSoul hoodie.
Checked his phone.
Subject: Netflix Original Series Inquiry — BlkSoul Story
From: Darla Richardson (Netflix Talent Development)
The email said:
> "We've been following your journey. We'd love to meet and discuss adapting your story into a series or documentary. Are you available for a virtual call this week?"
Marcus screamed so loud he scared the cat off the windowsill.
Immediately FaceTimed Devonte.
Devonte answered, still crusty-eyed.
"Nigga why you yellin like yo toes got cut off?"
Marcus waved the phone wildly.
"NETFLIX WANT US, BITCH!"
Devonte sat up so fast he hit his head on the wall.
"OW SHIT—WAIT—WAIT—ARE YOU DEADASS??"
"DEADASS DEADASS!"
They both started hollering like they just won the NBA finals.
Tamia texted the groupchat:
Tamia:
> "Y'all finna be on TV and I'm finna be on there too! I'm telling my job I QUIT."
Marcus:
> "Bitch you don't even HAVE a job."
Tamia:
> "AND??? Y'all not gon' stop my dream."
---
Two Days Later — Netflix Zoom Meeting
Marcus was sweating bullets in his good hoodie.
Devonte was in the kitchen making cereal during the meeting like a damn fool.
The Netflix lady, Darla, was chill.
She had big glasses, braids, and a Golden Girls hoodie on.
"First off — love y'all. Second — we think BlkSoul is bigger than just hoodies. It's a MOVEMENT," she said, smiling.
Marcus blinked.
"Us? Movement?"
Devonte mouthed "Nigga act normal" behind the screen.
Darla continued:
"We want to do an 8-episode series. Kinda like 'Rhythm + Flow' meets 'Last Chance U.' Show the grind, the drama, the city, the love, the culture. Y'all in?"
Marcus tried to play it cool but his voice cracked:
"Uh...HELL YEAH."
Devonte gave the camera a thumbs up with cereal milk dripping down his chin.
Darla laughed.
"Bet. We'll fly some producers down next week. Cameras gon' be rolling, so don't be fake. Be messy, be real."
"Say less," Devonte grinned.
They ended the call and sat in silence.
Then Devonte threw his spoon across the kitchen.
"WE FUCKIN MADE IT, BRO!!!"
---
Twitter Went Nuts (Again)
When news leaked that Netflix was scouting BlkSoul, the internet EXPLODED.
Trending Again:
#BlkSoulNetflix
#DumpsterToDreams
#MarcusAndDevonteSupremacy
Even more celebrities chimed in:
@CardiB:
> "Y'all story mad inspiring. Get that BAG lil boys."
@Zendaya:
> "Just watched their interview. Manifesting nothing but greatness for them!"
@50Cent:
> "If y'all need a producer, holla at me. I make classics lol."
Tamia started tweeting like SHE got the deal too.
> "Don't call me Tamia no more. Call me Executive Producer Tamia Johnson."
> "If you knew me before BlkSoul...no you didn't."
> "I'm Hollywood now. Don't speak to me unless you verified."
Marcus had to mute her after the 20th tweet.
---
Meanwhile...Marcus Started Noticing Some Shit About Devonte.
Small stuff.
Like how Devonte always grabbed two plates when he made food.
(Like he already knew Marcus would forget to eat.)
Or how Devonte would hype Marcus up loud as hell in public but lowkey check him soft when it was just them.
"Bro you doin amazing," he'd say, real low, real soft, touching Marcus's wrist for like half a second before pulling back.
And it made Marcus's heart beat funny.
Like a little kick-drum under his ribs.
He tried to shake it off.
"That's just my bro..." he told himself.
But sometimes...
At night...
When he saw Devonte asleep on the couch, hoodie half-off, mouth open a little...
Marcus caught himself staring too long.
Wondering too much.
---
Saturday Night — Celebrity Party Invite
Because of the Netflix buzz, they got invited to some bougie influencer party downtown.
Real fancy shit.
Marcus almost ain't wanna go.
"Nigga we got two good hoodies between us. These people finna be dripped out in Balenciaga made outta dragon skin," he said.
Devonte grabbed his shoulder.
"Man, fuck allat. We got US. That's enough."
Marcus swallowed.
Nodded.
---
At the Party
It was a damn MOVIE inside.
TikTokers doing corny dances in every corner
IG girls throwing gang signs and selfies at the same time
NBA players in booths poppin bottles
Yung Miami from City Girls was there arguing with somebody on FaceTime
Tamia IMMEDIATELY disappeared trying to find a rapper husband.
Marcus stuck close to Devonte, both of them looking like two kids at Disneyland without a map.
"Damn...these people all look fake as hell," Marcus muttered.
Devonte shrugged. "Maybe. But we the realest thing in here."
Then this tall ass white dude in a neon vest ran up to them.
"Y'ALL BLKSOUL?? I LOVE YOU GUYS!!!"
Marcus blinked. "Uh...thanks bro."
The dude pulled out his phone and started livestreaming immediately.
"These are the KINGS right here!! Fresh out the dirt, making moves!! SAY HI TO MY FOLLOWERS!"
Marcus awkwardly threw up peace signs.
Devonte leaned into the camera.
"If you broke, stay safe. If you rich, buy a hoodie, bitch!"
The crowd watching online went NUTS.
---
Later That Night
They sat outside the party on the hood of Marcus's dusty car.
Just...quiet.
No clout.
No cameras.
Just them.
Devonte looked up at the stars.
"Nigga...I'm proud of you," he said low.
Marcus smiled, cheeks hot.
"I'm proud of US," he corrected.
They bumped fists.
For a second, their hands stayed touching.
Longer than usual.
Neither pulled away.
The air got real thick between them.
Marcus's heart thudded loud in his ears.
He saw Devonte swallow hard.
Then Devonte leaned his forehead against Marcus's shoulder — quick, soft, like a "I'm tired" move but...more.
Marcus let him.
Closed his eyes.