Dre pov

Date: December 15th, 1989 - Late Night

Tupac sat on the edge of the bed in his small apartment, the room a chaotic mess of scattered clothes, half-packed boxes, and a duffel bag lying open on the floor. His face was unreadable, but the determination in his eyes was clear. He glanced around one last time, making sure he didn't forget anything important. On the table beside the duffel bag was a handwritten note addressed to Dr. Dre, a few words scrawled in Tupac's signature messy handwriting.

The apartment wasn't much, just a modest rental he shared with Dre. Over the past year, it had become their safe haven, a space where they'd built beats, written lyrics, and shared dreams of conquering the music world. But tonight, it felt like everything was unraveling.

Tupac zipped up the bag, pausing for a moment to look at the photo of him and Dre sitting on the nightstand. In the picture, they were smiling, arms draped over each other's shoulders, surrounded by the rest of N.W.A. It was taken at a celebration earlier that year when Tupac graduated high school. His mother and sister were in the photo, too, their proud smiles a reminder of why he worked so hard.

He picked up the photo, hesitated, and then gently placed it back on the nightstand. "For you, big bro," he muttered under his breath, his voice heavy with emotion.

The mood at the studio was tense. After Tupac's dramatic exit, Jerry Heller wasted no time. He gathered the remaining members of N.W.A in the control room, his tone calm but insistent.

"Listen, guys," Jerry began, pacing in front of them. "I know things got heated earlier, but let's be real—Tupac's outburst was just that: an outburst. He's always been hot-headed, always looking for a fight. You all know that."

Ren frowned but said nothing. Dre's absence was noticeable, and without Tupac there, the room felt emptier than usual.

Jerry continued, "The truth is, Tupac doesn't understand the business side of things. He's a great artist, sure, but he's not thinking about the bigger picture. He's letting his ego get in the way."

Eazy-E, standing by the mixing board, nodded slightly. "He's been on edge lately. Always questioning stuff."

Jerry smiled, sensing that he was getting through to them. "Exactly, E. Tupac's jealous. He sees how far we've come, and instead of being part of the team, he's trying to bring us down. Signing this contract isn't just about money—it's about loyalty, about sticking together as a family."

Ren spoke up hesitantly. "But what if Pac was right? I mean, what if we're signing something we'll regret later?"

Jerry sighed, his tone patient but firm. "Ren, you've got to trust me. I've been in this business for years. I know what I'm doing. Do you really think I'd steer you wrong after everything we've built together?"

The room fell silent. Slowly, one by one, the members of N.W.A began to nod, the seeds of doubt Tupac had planted overshadowed by Jerry's persuasive words. By the end of the night, everyone had signed the contract.

It was around 9:00 PM when Dre decided he'd had enough. The studio wasn't the same without Tupac, and the tension from earlier still lingered in the air. He couldn't focus on the music, couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Grabbing his keys, Dre told the others he was heading out. "I'm gonna check on Pac," he said, not waiting for a response.

The drive to the apartment was quiet, the streets lit by the orange glow of streetlights. Dre's mind raced as he thought about Tupac's words earlier. He knew Pac was passionate, but this time it felt different. There was a finality in his tone that Dre couldn't ignore.

When he pulled up to the apartment, Tupac's car wasn't in its usual spot. Dre parked and climbed the stairs, a sense of unease growing with every step.

The door was unlocked, and when he stepped inside, he froze. The apartment was a mess—clothes were strewn everywhere, drawers were half-open, and Tupac's notebooks were gone from the desk. On the table in the center of the room was the note. Dre picked it up and read:

"Dre,

You've always been like a big brother to me, and I'll never forget everything you've done for me. But I can't stay where I'm not trusted. I hope you understand. Don't sign that contract. You're better than that.

—Pac"

Dre sat down, the note still in his hand. His gaze drifted to the photo on the nightstand—the one of the whole group with Tupac's mom and sister. Next to it was another photo, one he hadn't noticed before: a picture of Tupac holding their pet Gooch, laughing as he lit up a blunt in tribute after Gooch passed.

Memories flooded back. He thought about the countless nights they'd spent in the studio, the arguments, the laughs, the shared dreams. He thought about how Tupac had always looked up to him, how he'd called him "big bro" with genuine respect. And now, he was gone.

Next day at early morning

Dre barely slept that night. The apartment felt emptier than ever, the silence almost deafening. By morning, he made up his mind to tell the others the truth.

When he walked into the studio, the atmosphere was lighter than he expected. Jerry and Eazy were laughing about something, Ren and Yella were going over beats. But as soon as they saw Dre's face, the room went quiet.

"What's up, Dre?" Eazy asked.

Dre hesitated, then took a deep breath. "Pac's gone."

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap.

"What do you mean, 'gone'?" Ren asked.

"I mean he's done," Dre said. "He left the group. Packed his stuff and bounced last night."

The room erupted in a mix of shock and disbelief.

"Why didn't anyone go after him?" Dre demanded, his frustration boiling over. "We all knew he was serious. Why'd you let him walk out like that?"

Eazy looked uncomfortable. "Man, you know how Pac is. We thought he just needed time to cool off. Nobody thought he'd actually leave."

Jerry chimed in, his tone dismissive. "Pac's always been dramatic. He'll come around. He just needs time to see that this is the best place for him."

Dre shook his head. "You don't get it, Jerry. Pac's not coming back. This wasn't about cooling off—this was about trust. And we let him down."

The room fell silent again as Dre's words sank in. For the first time, the weight of Tupac's absence truly hit them.

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To Be Continued…

Dre sat down at the console, staring at the empty chair where Tupac used to sit. The group might still be together, but it didn't feel whole anymore.