(On a cool Wednesday afternoon, in a green luscious park where winding paths meandered past shaded benches and serene ponds at nearly every turn, tall trees offered ample shade for couples to giggle and steal affectionate glances, while nearby single men sat slumped on the grass, holding back quiet tears of longing as laughter echoed around them. The air carried the fresh scent of cut grass and blooming flowers, mingled with distant barbecue smoke from picnickers, a gentle breeze rustling leaves overhead. The four friends—Renji, Damien, Soren, and Jiwon—were walking down the sun-dappled path, conversing casually about nothing in particular, their laughter light and easy after weeks of hospital recovery, before they walked past a small makeshift stage where someone was already rapping energetically.)
(The tempo of the beat was fast and relentless, pounding bass vibrating through the ground like a heartbeat, as the person on stage mumble-rapped his way through lyrics that blurred into a rapid-fire haze, words half-slurred and barely intelligible over the trap hi-hats and 808s. A modest crowd had gathered—twenty or so park-goers watching with casual interest, some recording on their phones with flashes popping, others nodding their heads rhythmically to the infectious rhythm, smiles on faces as the energy built.)
(Damien wore a black oversized sports jersey emblazoned with the number 01 over a crisp white long-sleeved waffle-knit shirt that hugged his V-tapered frame subtly, paired with baggy black jeans that draped loosely over rugged wheat Timberland-style boots. A black beanie sat snug on his head, his long dreadlocks flowing freely down his back with a few rebellious strands framing his face, a thin silver chain necklace glinting under the sun. His hands were rooted deep in his pockets as he paused mid-step, turning his head to listen to the rap with a critical ear, brow furrowing slightly at the flow.)
(Jiwon stopped moving as well, noticing Damien's abrupt halt and looking over with light blue eyes crinkling in curiosity, his tousled black waves shifting as he tilted his head. He wore a simple white t-shirt underneath a grey hoodie, unzipped halfway at the top to reveal the shirt beneath, paired with baggy black jeans that draped over pristine white sneakers.)
(Soren and Renji stopped as well, almost in sync—Soren glancing over towards the stage with a raised eyebrow, his porcelain skin catching the light as ash-blond waves framed his features. He wore a white dress shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, sleeves rolled up to his elbows exposing forearms, beige cargo pants tucked over white sneakers, and a sleek silver watch gleaming on his wrist. Renji, however, was not focused on the stage at all; his golden eyes were fixed on the vibrant green grass underfoot. He wore a white dress shirt underneath a soft cream sweater that draped elegantly over his elongated frame, light blue baggy jeans draping over white sneakers.)
(The rapper continued rapping with building intensity, sweat beading on his forehead, as behind him the DJ stood by his booth just bopping his head steadily, arms crossed coolly. Damien continued listening intently, bopping his head to the rhythm at first—shoulders loose, chain swinging—before the rapper hit a word that utterly messed up the flow of the song, stumbling the cadence into awkward silence. Damien clicked his tongue sharply in annoyance, the sound cutting through the beat like a whip, and shouted out without hesitation,) "HEY! YOU SUCK!"
(The rapper was caught completely off guard, freezing mid-bar as the beat thumped on relentlessly behind him, staring at Damien alongside the small crowd whose heads whipped around in surprise, phones now aimed at the unfolding drama. The rapper pointed directly at Damien, mic gripped tight.) "Man, who is you?"
"None of your business, all you should know is that you ass!" (Damien immediately responded, voice booming confident, hands still pocketed but stance widening. Soren sighed deeply, placing his fingers on the bridge of his nose in classic exasperation, gray eyes closing briefly. Jiwon added fuel with a nod, crossing his arms over his chest emphatically,) "ASS!"
(Renji's eyes narrowed as he snapped back to reality, glancing from Damien to the rapper and back, before just sighing with a resigned shake of his head.)
(The rapper clicked his tongue dismissively before shaking his head, dreads bouncing—he was a dreadhead himself, dressed in skinny black jeans hugging slim legs, a simple white tee clinging to his frame, and bulky sneakers planted wide.) "What? You think you better?"
"I know I'm better," (Damien shot back instantly, swagger radiating, and Jiwon hyped him up again,) "HE BETTER!" (Damien then escalated with a grin,) "In fact, me and my boys are better."
"The fuck?" (Renji immediately said, whipping his head towards Damien in disbelief, golden eyes flashing irritation. Soren just narrowed his eyes and stared at Damien with annoyance etched deeply into his gaze.)
"Aight then, come on the stage," (the rapper challenged, stepping aside with a smirk.)
(The crowd all agreed enthusiastically, erupting into chants of 'Get on stage, get on stage!' repeatedly, phones hoisted higher, energy electric. Damien flashed a confident smirk, taking off at a jog through the parting crowd, leaping onto the platform with fluid athletic ease, dreads whipping. Jiwon smiled wide, dimples flashing, running after and jumping up, sliding onto the stage with a stylish skid. Renji and Soren exchanged a long look before collectively sighing, walking around the crowd calmly and climbing the stairs with poised reluctance.)
(The DJ leaned down on his booth with a grin, pulling out four conveniently placed mics and stretching his hand out. Damien snatched all four mid-air, tossing them expertly to the other three—Renji catching his smoothly, Soren with precise grace, Jiwon snagging his one-handed. The DJ moved to his laptop swiftly, scrolling through saved files and clicking play; the beat dropped hard, and immediately people were bopping their heads, crowd hyped. )
(Damien listened for a beat, feeling the rhythm pulse through his Timberlands, before raising the mic to his lips with a confident smirk curling his full lips.) "Ay," (he drawled, repeating it six times slow and hypnotic, voice commanding the space.) "Shawty in the front, make that ass bounce," (repeated four times punchy.) "Make that ass bounce," (six more times, crowd echoing faintly.) "Ay."
"She a lil bad bitch, a lil bit nasty. She'll make a dude run cause she a lil bit active."
"Ay she a ratchet, a lil bit savage. On a stallion but she ain't motherfuckin Megan."
(Damien lowered the mic smoothly, and Jiwon immediately took over with infectious enthusiasm, tenor popping off the beat.) "On a track, yeah. Imma bring a rover. Get me a tab you know I ain't getting sober."
"In a rover, in the backseat. She throwing ass and I'm tryna get nasty."
(Soren cleared his throat velvet-rasp cutting clean as the beat slowed slightly for drama.) "On the track and I'm tryna get nasty, throw it back and imma get a bit manly."
"She nasty but ain't drunk, call Pi'erre cause we back in the backseat."
(Renji, before Soren even finished, sighed audibly then cleared his throat, diving in fast-paced resonant bass syncing perfectly.) "Yeah, she a nasty lil bih. Tryna be with me, cause I took a lil flick."
"Ay she bouncing on that, hmmm," (the other three intoned in perfect harmony, 'hmm.') "She screaming on that, hmmm," (again 'hmm.')
(Damien looped back to the chorus seamlessly, 'Make that ass bounce,' energy peaking as people bopped harder, some dancing on each other, phones capturing every bar, increasing crowd roaring approval.)
(They continued that afternoon owning the stage as impromptu rappers and entertainers, flows tightening with each pass, crowd swelling triple-size, viral clips exploding on social platforms.)
(P.S, Apologies for if the rap was buns, this is what I thought off as a filler. Also if you want the actual beat I used to rap check out Spotless by Optics Beats.)