This is a voyage through the possibilities of who he is and who he can be in various universes. I welcome you to a world of each and every characteristic of DeVanté is existing as a separate entity in its own universe.
created: 23 February, 2018
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Legs intertwined with one another, she sat wrapped up in, not only a blanket but, his story as well. It was interesting to hear him talk about what life was like on the road. If only K-Ci hadn't quit to go solo, he might've still been there. She was happy he came back to go to school because had he not, they would've never met. He'd simply been that cute guy in the one hit wonder group on television and to him, she'd been practically nonexistent. Not existing at all.
"So, what you say to her after that?"
DeVanté adjusted his watch and said, "I couldn't hear. My ears was still ringin'. I figured it was some regular smart shit." The twenty-four year old's fingers tapped against the arm rest of the desk chair that he sat in. It was placed in this particular spot the day he decided to go back to school. "Like, I told you what I was doing. I'm not even entertaining that kind of shit when I know the truth." It took almost all of him, a whopping 98%, to leave behind the blueprint of Swing Mob to go back to the kind of environment that he absolutely deplores. Yet, everything in his life pointed in this direction and here he is, a junior in college. School of choice? Juilliard, of course.
She stuck her finger into the center of her ponytail, her eyes slightly rolled to the back of her head at the relief of a deep routed itch. He softly chuckled at the sight.
Shaking her head, she faced him as a brand new woman. "That has to be some hell of a life. You going back right?"
"Yeah," He laughed closing his book. "They still be calling me and shit. Somethin' about watching that deal go down the toilet that fast told me to come handle this first but, I know fo'sho that if I walked into a' office, I can get a production deal from anybody I want." DeVanté's confidence in his craft left most pupils swirling into a deep sea of fuchsia colored hearts.
"I would go back to... the clothes, the cars, the cribs," she said referencing to his home that they currently were sitting inside. The abundant amount of gained royalties that he'd worked for through production are treating him well. He knew that this will be so for only so long. "The women... sex, I know you got laid a lot."
DeVanté laughed, "I'on gotta' be famous to get ass. I mean, look at you."
"We've never..."
Another chuckle of his was released at the sight of her confusion. "Nah, I mean you. I know somebody knocked it down a couple times and you ain't never left New York."
"Uh," she laughed. "Right."
DeVante sat up in his seat with an awoken interest in her sex-life. "Wait..." He'd always thought that she'd had some form of experience with the exception of what he'd seen with his own eyes. The idea of someone of her past not continuously being within her tugged on his curiosity. Why not? There wasn't anything wrong with her, in his eyes. What was stopping her? "You mean like, you ain't done it all?"
"I mean... define all."
Refusing to look him in the eye, her own eyes began to trail down his neck. He usually wore a single chain but, today he did not. A loose t-shirt with Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd plastered on the very front. His black and green plaid patterned pajamas were loose and baggy on his thin, fit frame but, that's how he usually preferred them to fit. That's how most men preferred them to fit. His feet were covered in socks. His boxer situation was undeclared on this particular day, though on a regular day, he'd naturally showcase the very top of the waistband and the waistband only.
