Kendrick X Drake

Chapter 1: The confession!!

Drake tightly gripped the love letter in his hand. His palms sweaty, as he made his way to Kendricks locker. His skirt hiking up as he fell, Kendrick shoved him on the ground. "Oi, oi, oi.... These bakas be trippin..." Kendrick chuckled as he watched Drake scramble to pick up the letter. Kendrick stomped on the letter crushing it under his foot leaving Drake in shock, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. "Baka. I only love Donald trump, twink." Drake’s voice trembled. “Kendrick… why him? He doesn’t even drop bars.”

Kendrick scoffed, crossing his arms, eyes narrowing with faux anime intensity. “Bars? Hah. You wouldn’t understand… Donald’s… aura. His… golden hair glistening in the sunlight like a rare Pokémon foil card.”

Drake’s knees wobbled. “So what? I can make you mixtapes. I can ghostwrite you love haikus. I can—”

“Shut it, baka!” Kendrick snapped, his cheeks turning just a shade too pink. “It’s not like I… like you or anything… idiot.”

From down the hallway, a slow, ominous clap echoed. The crowd parted as Donald Trump himself entered, wearing sunglasses indoors and holding a McDonald’s bag like a prized relic. “Kenny. Babe.”

Drake’s heart sank. But as Trump got closer, Kendrick’s expression faltered—just for a moment—his eyes flickering toward Drake with a look that said help me.

Drake’s grip tightened on the now-crumpled letter. Maybe this wasn’t over after all.

“Kenny, I brought you the 20-piece McNuggets… extra sweet ‘n sour. Just how you like it,” Trump purred, tossing his golden hair back in a motion so slow it felt like time itself bowed to him.

Kendrick’s face went beet red—not from love, but from the sheer embarrassment of being called Kenny in front of Drake. He grabbed the nuggets like they were contraband and hissed, “Tch… you shouldn’t have come here, Donald. Not in front of him.”

Trump glanced at Drake with the squint of a man trying to read the menu at a very far-away Arby’s. “Who’s this? Another SoundCloud rapper?”

Drake’s jaw clenched. “I’m not just another rapper… I’m the man who’s gonna steal Kendrick’s heart!” His voice cracked halfway through, but the passion was there.

The hallway gasped. Someone dropped their anime body pillow.

Kendrick’s eyes widened. “Baka! Don’t just say things like that in front of him!” His voice trembled, but his tsundere energy was spiking dangerously high.

Drake stepped forward, the fluorescent lights glinting off the tears still clinging to his lashes. “Kendrick… I’ll fight for you. Even if I have to rap battle Donald Trump himself in the cafeteria at lunch period.”

Trump smirked, biting into a nugget with slow menace. “You’re on, Canada.”

The bell rang, but nobody went to class. The entire school swarmed into the cafeteria, desks and chairs pushed aside to form a makeshift arena.

Kendrick sat on top of a vending machine like a moody anime love interest, scarf fluttering even though there was no wind. His gaze kept darting between Drake and Trump, lips pressed tight as if the fate of his heart depended on the outcome.

Drake cracked his knuckles. “You ready to lose your presidency, Donald?”

Trump adjusted his tie, tossing a chicken nugget into his mouth without breaking eye contact. “I was born ready. And rich. Mostly rich.”

A beat dropped out of nowhere—probably from the school’s one kid who carries a portable DJ set for clout.

Drake’s verse hit first:

“I’m the 6 God, flowing clean, no pollution,

Here to end your Kendrick-love delusion,

Trump Tower? I’ll make it crumble to dust,

Kenny, choose me—someone you can trust!”

The crowd went wild, a random anime girl screamed “Sugoiiii!” in the background.

Trump’s turn:

“I’m a business tycoon, not a SoundCloud clown,

Running these bars like I run this town,