Dying to Live

[Caesar]

Sign the Letter

The living room of Rana and Tyrell’s house buzzed with quiet energy. A spread of chips and sodas sat untouched on the coffee table, and the faint scent of Rana’s gumbo lingered in the air. Tyrell lounged in an armchair, his arms draped casually over the sides, while Royce sat on the couch. Across from them, Chris Scott, Southern’s linebacker coach, leaned forward in his chair, his hands clasped together as if he were closing a sermon.

“Royce, I know that you have a lot of big schools in your ear, talking to you about a lot of things, promising you a lot,” Coach Scott said, his voice deliberate and calm. “But look at what Travis hunter was able to do at Jackson State. He showed the world what HBCU, and specifically SWAC, football can be. You could do the same here. You could put Southern back on the map.”

The pitch hung in the air. The TV was muted, images of spring previews for football teams around the country playing on the screen alongside recaps of their recruiting classes. Royce’s eyes flicked to the screen, the screen showing Alabama’s signees, Poochie’s name standing out to him.

He nodded slowly, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I hear you, Coach. And I can respect that. Travis hunter, he did some big shi—big things while he was over there with Coach Prime.”

Tyrell shifted in his chair. “Big schools come with big opportunities.” He said, his voice steady but persuasive. “But Southern ain’t just football—it’s family. I played there, Royce. You know what it’s like to walk into a packed Mumford, feel the love from the crowd? And with the transfer portal? You wouldn’t lose anything giving it a shot.”

Royce glanced at Tyrell, appreciating the sentiment. Tyrell had always been proud of his alma mater, and there was something undeniably appealing about the idea of playing in front of his family and friends in the close confines of a stadium like Mumford, playing for a school with the history of Southern, what it meant to Baton Rouge and the state.

But every time he imagined his future, it wasn’t blue and gold he saw. It wasn’t competing against players in the SWAC.

“Coach Scott,” Royce began, his voice calm but resolute. “I’ve thought about it a lot. And I respect what you’re saying—really, I do. But I’ve already made my decision. I need to see how far, and I can, and for me, that means a P4 school.”

The silence that followed was heavy but not hostile. Coach Scott leaned back in his chair, his hands resting on his knees. For a moment, disappointment flickered across his face before it was replaced with a resigned smile.

“I get it,” Coach Scott said, nodding. “I respect your choice. But just know, the door’s always open if you change your mind.

“Thanks for believing in me. I ain’t gonna forget that Southern was the first school talking to me and y’all stuck with me through everything,” Royce said as he stood, extending a hand. Coach Scott grasped it firmly, their handshake lasting just a beat longer than normal.

As Coach Scott left, Tyrell closed the door behind him. He turned away from the door, his gaze steady on Royce.

“You sure about this?” Tyrell asked, his tone softer than before.”

Royce smirked, starting toward the kitchen. “As sure as I’m gonna be. That gumbo better be some fire, Rana!”

~~~~~~~~~~

UHigh’s gym buzzed with anticipation. Banners for all of the Cubs’ teams lined the walls, and rows of chairs were filled with students, families and local reporters who couldn’t fit into the packed bleachers. At the front of the room, a long table was set up with hats from various colleges, each representing the choices of UHigh’s winter athletes.

Royce stood off to the side, waiting as other athletes at the school announced their decisions. He locked eyes with Sadie who was standing with her parents. She rolled her eyes, her lip curling up in disgust before looking away.

Shaking his head, Royce went back to watching the others make their announcements, most of them choosing to stay in-state at schools like Southeastern and McNeese, but their decisions being celebrated all the same.

“Royce, you’re up next,” the athletic director said to him.

Cheers erupted from the crowd as Royce walked toward the table, adjusting his blazer before sitting down. Tyrell, Rana and Roni joined him, Rana putting her hands on his shoulders as he adjusted the microphone in front of him.

He cleared his throat. “First, I want to thank my family, my teammates and my coaches. Without y’all, I wouldn’t be here today. This decision hasn’t been easy, but I’ve thought about it a lot over the past few months, talked to my family and my friends.”

He reached over, his hand hovering over a Tennessee hat before picking up the purple and gold LSU hat. The crowd erupted as Royce placed it on his head.

“I’m proud to announce that I’ll be continuing my academic and athletic career at the Louisiana State University.”

The room was electric, camera flashes going off like strobe lights. Royce shook hands with the athletic director and the football coaches, posing for pictures with LSU’s iconic “L” hand symbol thrown up, and signed his letter of intent. For a moment, the noise and chaos faded, and he felt the weight of his choice settle in. This was it. The start of the next chapter.

As the ceremony wrapped up and the crowd began to disperse, Royce slipped out of the gym, his mind already racing with thoughts of the challenges ahead. He was heading toward the parking lot when he saw Alix sitting on a bench waiting for him.

She stood up and took the hat off his head, putting it on her own. “Don’t think you’re going to be crashing in my dorm room all the time.”

“That depends on what your roommate looks like. If she fine, I might have to be in there everyday to try to fuck,” Royce laughed, adjusting the hat on her head so it sat just right.

Alix rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why you’re acting like you got game. I picked you up, remember?”

“Shit. I’m an LSU football player, baby,” he said, a smirk spreading across his face.

“Yes, you are,” she smiled back at him.

For a moment, they stood there, the noise of the gym fading into the background. Alix broke the silence first, cupping his cheek for a moment, brushing her thumb over a faint scar he’d gotten from some shrapnel in the shooting.

“See you tonight?” she asked, referring to both the cookout Tyrell and Rana were having for him and… other… activities.

“Yep.”

She winked at him before walking off.

“You got my hat,” he called after her.

“I’ll give it back to you when you help me move in,” she threw over her shoulder.

Royce watched her go, shaking his head with a smile. He didn’t know what the future held, but for the first time in a long time, he felt as if he was only facing the things that normal teenagers had to deal with.

[Soapy]

[djp73]

[The JZA]

Boy finally off to college for the next 8 years of writing #cinema

[Captain Canada]

Wonder what anvil is going to hit hardest: Malik or Britni?

[Caesar]

Hold dat tigah

Boy finally off to college for the next 8 years of writing #cinema

Eight more years and we'll be in sophomore year

Wonder what anvil is going to hit hardest: Malik or Britni?

This man can't let Royce live a happy and fruitful live.

[Caesar]

Got something for y'all...

[Caesar]

Don't ever...

[Caesar]

Let it be said...

[Caesar]

That Caesar isn't a man of the people. #PeoplesChamp