A/N: Hey guys. I'm back with another Boondocks fic. This one basically delves into Riley Freeman's thoughts on the future. He also plays basketball with Cindy while thinking about all that so there's some cute friendship stuff and whatnot. Also, the song I Can by Nas inspired this piece. Hope you guys enjoy! And thank you all for the support and love and feedback you've been sending; I cannot tell you guys how much I appreciate it. :)

The Boondocks belongs to Aaron McGruder and Sony Pictures Entertainment. I Can belongs to Nasir Jones. No copyright infringement intended.

EDIT: So, I've been reading the original Boondocks comics and I found one series of strips that showed Riley listening to Lauryn Hill (tinyurl/k9az5me) and it just tied in with this story so well. I was hoping the ending of this fic wasn't too ooc for him, and now I see that it wasn't. I incorporated a little bit about the comic in here towards the end so if you re-read it, it may seem different. Okay, bye!

Riley fell into the rhythm of his dribbling as he felt the rough surface of the basketball leave his fingertips and fall to the floor, only to bounce right back into his palms. There was something soothing about the feeling of silence wafting through the immense room, only disturbed by the resonating thud of the basketball hitting the floor that echoed throughout the empty gymnasium. He found the smell of used rubber and chemical floor cleaners welcoming as he practiced his moves on the court. There was something comforting about the way the ethereal light that streamed from the windows illuminated the gym as it reflected off the waxy floors. There was something about being there, completely in control of everything; isolated and yet completely open.

Riley loved basketball, but he didn't really like being in a basketball league as much as he thought he would. Of course, he enjoyed it, but there was always something little that annoyed him. He always found game days to be irksome, not only from the arduous gameplay but also from the stuffiness of the atmosphere and being surrounded by pungent, sweaty bodies. There was something different about a newly cleaned gym that was all to him, for him to make as many mistakes as he pleases without being laughed at. For him to have some time to himself for reflection and even imagining the future. Even just for letting off steam. It had become his special place; Huey had his hill overlooking Woodcrest and Riley had his empty gym. It was the place he felt most at peace with himself, and could even escape everything going on in his life. It was perfect. It was perfect and it was untouched and it would stay that way.

Until today.

"Aye, you got room for one more?"

Riley whipped around to see a certain blonde tentatively walk towards him, a black-and-blue basketball propped against her hip with her arm. She flashed him a smile as she tilted her head. He went back to his basketball, got into the position to shoot with elbows propped up and palms in front of his head, and released the ball. He felt the sphere spin off his fingertips and watched the ball as it arched towards the hoop.

"Psh, nope," he said simply, without looking back at his friend. The ball bounced off the backboard and fell beside the net. Riley ran to retrieve it as Cindy rolled her eyes.

"Oh, you cold as ice, Reezy," Cindy replied with a flick of her hand as if to dismiss him, and dribbled her basketball to the hoop on the other side of the court. Riley paused for a moment to look behind him, watching Cindy trot down the court, her two iconic blonde braids bouncing against her back. She was dressed in a long white t-shirt and her blue basketball shorts from their first game together. (Well, more like against each other, but regardless, it was the first time they met.) He remembered Cindy saying those same words to him at his house when he was in denial about Gangstalicious being gay, and almost chuckled to himself at the memories. Those days seemed so far away now. He turned his attention back to his basketball training.

His rhythm was a bit thrown off by the conflicting distant sounds of Cindy's dribbling on the other side of the court, but he wasn't irritated. In fact, he was oddly okay with his friend being there, disturbing the usual peace and quiet of his empty gymnasium. He didn't mind hearing the swoosh of the net on the other side of the court, or the squeaking of sneakers against the hardwood floor. It was almost as relaxing as his alone time.

Riley only got a few more shots in when he got surprised by Cindy as she popped up beside him with her basketball in hand. She sighed with a pout.

"This is boring. Lemme whoop your ass right quick." Riley almost laughed out loud at how quickly she had grown tired of the peace and quiet. Usually he would too, (there was only so much quiet he could handle) but today it was different. He would never admit to Cindy that he actually enjoyed the tranquility of the silence sometimes; it sounds like some shit Huey would say. He didn't let his amusement at Cindy show, though, and he maintained a straight face as he rolled his eyes.

"Nah man, sit your white ass down." He quickly turned his back towards Cindy and shot the ball towards the hoop. As it bounced off the rim, he didn't even get the chance to try and retrieve it. In just a few seconds, Cindy had already sprinted towards the ball and scooped it up in her hand. She propped the two balls on both of her hips and glared at Riley.

"Don't tell me what to do."

Riley sighed, seeing that he had no choice now but to play a game against her. Besides, he'd spent enough time with his loner side; it was time to get back in the swing of things. He opened up his palms and motioned for Cindy to pass him the ball. She narrowed her eyes at first, as if to test his liability, and then bounce-passed his ball back to him.

Soon enough, they were in a full-fledged competition.

"Ooh, spin move," Cindy teased as she expertly dodged Riley's attempt to steal the ball and dribbled the basketball towards the hoop. "Betcha didn't see that one coming."

She hopped up off the ground and shot the ball, watching it drift in the air forming a perfect arc and falling through the net. Riley ran to retrieve the ball with an annoyed expression plastered across his face. Cindy smirked as he brought the ball back.

"You're just mad cause I'm stylin' on ya." Riley's eyes narrowed to slits as he tried to keep his composure. He knew how Cindy worked; she just tried to get inside his head. It won't work this time.

"Chick, please," Riley replied as he shot a three-pointer and made it in with seemingly no effort. "Playing witchu is almost as easy as playing against the Charlotte Bobcats in their 2011 season."

Cindy's mouth dropped slightly as she stared at Riley while the ball dropped to the floor with a dull thud. Her shocked expression quickly shifted into one of amusement.

"You're getting better at this, aren't you?" She ran to retrieve the ball and checked it to Riley.

"Shit talking?" He smirked. "I'm just getting started."

The game went on, and on, and on (someone always wanted a rematch or a recount of the score.) Pretty soon, they were both sweating and panting, almost about to pass out.

"Aye, C-Murph," Riley said in between breaths as he took a weak stance in front of Cindy with his arms limp by his side instead of outstretched and ready to block. "Let's call it a day."

She eyed him testily while dribbling the ball between her legs.

"Aw, come on. You gon' quit without even giving me a chance to catch up? That's some ol' bullshit."

"Come on, man," Riley replied with a flick of his hand. He was already walking towards the gymnasium bleachers. "Can a nigga breathe for a second? Damn."

Cindy rolled her eyes and followed him off the court. Though she was reluctant to show it, she was already hit with fatigue. She was almost grateful that Riley suggested it first so she wouldn't seem like the tired one. They nearly collapsed onto the bleachers and fought to sit upright as they passed a half-filled water bottle between them.

They sat for a few moments, just taking in the completely empty gymnasium and the heavy intakes of breath that pierced the silence. Once their heart rates started to go back to normal, Riley almost suggested going back to the game, but one glance at Cindy's content expression made him shut his mouth immediately. He liked this moment; he liked just sitting with Cindy and absorbing the silence. It was a part of him that reminded him that yes, he was related to Huey Freeman and no, not everything he says is a complete contrast to Riley's ideals.

"You ever think about the future, Reezy?"

Cindy's thought-provoking question that popped his thought bubble in one second shocked Riley to such an extent that he nearly fell off the bleachers. They had never discussed anything serious before, and he was almost positive that Cindy didn't have one philosophical bone in her body. But here she was, asking him an actual question. He almost replied the way he thought Cindy would want to hear, the way he usually would any other time. But in this moment, they were trapped in the safe cocoon of this deserted gymnasium only compromised by the presence of two young kids and all of their thoughts wouldn't leave this room. So he told her the truth.

"Yeah."

Cindy looked up at him from where she sat on the bleachers, an eyebrow quirked upward. Maybe she wasn't really expecting that answer.

"And?"

"And what?"

"What do you see?"

Riley thought for a moment, and then folded his arms across his chest with a pout.

"I dunno. Can we just go back to the game?" He was starting to get uncomfortable by the awkward, somber mist hovering above them. It really wasn't all that awkward for Cindy, but Riley was starting to feel the heat.

Cindy opened her mouth as if to reply, but just nodded her head instead. The quickly ran back to the court and started a new game, but this time, there wasn't much shit-talking in between shots.

The young blonde one was the first to break the awkward tension with her voice echoing throughout the gym as she dribbled the ball in place.

"You ever wanna... be something?" She asked with a pensive look on her face. Cindy showed no signs of moving from her spot, where she happily dribbled the ball between her legs and around her feet. Riley knew from past experiences that if she wasn't running, he wouldn't be able to get the ball from her hands.

And she wasn't running until he started talking.

The Freeman child sighed. "Yo, why you sweatin' me?"

Cindy rolled her eyes as she stopped dribbling and tucked the ball underneath her arm against her hip. "I was just asking."

He stared at her for a second, trying to understand where all of this was coming from. It was true they were getting older, but he wasn't exactly in a hurry to start worrying about the future just yet. He crossed his arms again.

"You gonna shoot or what?"

Cindy narrowed her eyes at Riley before shooting a jumper. It bounced off the rim and fell to the floor, but Cindy didn't even bother trying to get the rebound. She just stared at Riley as he ran towards the ball, brought it to where Cindy was standing and back to the other side, and shot an easy layup from beneath the hoop without anyone guarding him.

"Why you trippin' so much?" Cindy asked as Riley looked back at her from beneath the hoop. He dribbled the ball over to her without a word, but she didn't check it back to him.

"I mean, ain't you ever want to be famous? Like a basketball player or somethin'," Cindy mused with a longing twinkle in her eye as she shot the ball towards the hoop and made it in.

"Hey!" Riley exclaimed. "You didn't check up. It was my ball." Cindy shrugged as she shot another jumper from a different angle.

"Let's just shoot around," she replied, nonchalantly. "Why you keep avoiding the question?"

Riley muttered something under his breath and swatted the ball out of Cindy's hand before she could even attempt to make another shot.

"Yo! I made it in! Ain't you ever heard of respect?"

Riley didn't reply; he just ran up to the hoop and practiced his layups while Cindy's fists began to clench by her side as she stood behind him.

"What's your problem, man? You're cool when it's all about basketball or joking around but I ask you one thing and you start trippin!" Cindy stepped closer to Riley as he stopped shooting, his back facing Cindy with the ball idly sitting in his hands. "Don't you ever wanna be somethin', do somethin', go somewhere, don't you got any dreams or shit? Why ain't you talkin…"

"Because I'm scared, aiight?"

Riley spun around on his heels to face Cindy, blurting out the response he never really wanted anyone to know about. He groaned and threw the ball forcefully towards the side of the gymnasium. The thundering noise the ball produced as it smacked against the wall caused Cindy to flinch a little; she had never really seen her best friend this angry before. She hesitated for a moment before tentatively speaking towards the fuming, somewhat downcast boy.

"Sorry, man. I didn't mean to…"

"Nah, it's cool, it's cool," Riley replied with a nonchalant flick of his wrist. "I ain't think about the future much that's all. I ain't finna do much anyway."

Cindy just nodded in response, afraid to upset her friend any further. He walked over to the basketball and picked it up, passing it to Cindy. She caught it in one swift motion and followed him back to the center of the court. For a few minutes, they played in silence, before Cindy broke the silence once again.

"Ain't you ever hear that song I Can?" She asked in a normal tone, without the words being laced with sympathy. Riley relaxed a bit; he'd hate for Cindy to feel awkward or pity towards him after that little outburst. Or even frightened. He thought for a second, and remembered hearing it faintly on the radio before switching the station. He raised an eyebrow at Cindy.

"You listen to that corny shit?" There was a hint of teasing in his voice as he followed Cindy and her dribbling towards the hoop.

"...No," she replied quickly, her eyes averting Riley's somewhat condescending, yet endearing, look. She sighed, knowing that there was no way to hide the fact that she actually did listen to it. A lot more than she'd like to admit. "It's a good song, I swear."

Riley rolled his eyes with a smirk. "Whatever, nigga."

Cindy made an easy layup and then ran back to the other side of the court, ready for Riley to check the ball to her.

"You know, he says you can be anything you want to be," Cindy added in a low voice. Riley gave Cindy a look.

"Sounds corny to me."

"I mean, Thugnificent and Xzibit are still my homeboys, but Nas got some shit to say too." Riley gave Cindy another look, which caused her to audibly sigh and add, "it's a little corny, but I swear it's good."

She paused for a moment, ball in hand and feet planted on the ground, thinking about the lyrics. "He got some little kids singing the hook, but he don't sugarcoat nothin'," she continued, while dribbling the ball again. "He say it how it is."

"Double dribble," Riley called as she shot another layup. Cindy cursed under her breath as her friend smirked again before thinking back to her comment. Maybe Cindy was right; after all, they had very similar music tastes and ideals, so why not give it a shot? This girl knew him inside out; what she's saying is probably true. But he wouldn't give her that satisfaction just yet.

"Aiight. What's your point?"

Cindy narrowed her eyes at Riley before rolling them. There was just no breaking through this kid's thick skull. She glanced at the silver watch (from her days with Young Reezy's Fundraiser) strapped around her wrist and sucked her teeth at how late it had gotten while Riley dribbled around her. She stole the ball swiftly from his unexpecting hands and made one last jump shot before crossing her arms at Riley.

"Just listen to it and get back to me. Okay?" She flashed him a smile before running down the court to the bleachers to get her own basketball and leave the gymnasium. After her blonde braids were out of sight, Riley stood and drank his remaining surroundings for a moment. Once again, this vast, vacant space was occupied by only Riley and his basketball; the faint scent of Cindy McPhearson still wafting in the air mixed with the smell of sweat, chemical cleaners, and used rubber.

That night, as Riley tossed and turned in his bed, he replayed the moments from the basketball court with Cindy in his mind. He tried to remain as still as possible in his bed to will the waves of slumber to wash over him, but he couldn't help but wonder about that damn song. Nas was the type of rapper Huey listened to; surely he was not anyone Riley would even consider giving the time of day. He'd never actually listened to his music before, though, and Cindy's words kept echoing in his brain.

He waited until he could hear the steady breathing of his brother just a few feet beside him to signify that he was asleep before slipping out of bed. As quietly as he could, he tiptoed to the corner of the room (which was Huey's side, but he disregarded that fact for a moment) and jammed his earphones into the desktop sitting adjacent to the corner window. He tried to type as softly as he could so as to not wake Huey (the last thing he needed was for Huey to know that Riley was actually listening to what the revolutionary considered "real music" for once) and finally pulled up the music video on YouTube. He told himself to hold back judgement and to listen to the whole song, no matter how bad it would be.

Perhaps it was the corniest shit he ever heard. Perhaps all of this positive encouragement just sounded weird and "very not-gangster" from behind that computer screen. Perhaps as the song went on, Riley started to get into it. Started to really muse over the lyrics. Perhaps Riley felt empowered by the end of the song in a way which he'd never admit, kind of like the way he felt when he used to listen to Lauryn Hill (although he couldn't afford to lost his thug rep, so he ceased to indulge in her music.)

Perhaps he was already thinking of the future, and what horrors it had in store as well as what light could be found. Perhaps he was dreaming of playing pro basketball, as he used to dream when he was eight years old. Perhaps he could revive the Lethal Interjection Crew with new members; ones that weren't old and broke like Thugnificent. Perhaps he would tell his own story in a movie one day, and earn all the fame and money the world could offer. Perhaps he dreamed of being a lawyer later that night, after he replayed the song in his head like a lullaby to help him drift off into unconsciousness. Perhaps he would fight against others who try to put his favorite artists in prison just because of some "immoral uses of the bodily fluids" or some shit.

Perhaps he really did like that song. Perhaps he'd even consider listening to some other music of Nas's, or someone else Huey happens to like listening to. Perhaps the future didn't seem so scary. Well, it did, but it was something he could handle.

Perhaps Cindy was right. Perhaps Huey has been right about some things in the past, too.

…

Nahh.

At least, not that he'd ever admit, of course.