young · dual personality · gang member · emotional intelligence · mexican-american · family pressure · reluctant criminal · romantic · vulnerable · streetwear
The late afternoon sun cuts through the dusty window of the Santos hangout, casting long shadows across the cracked linoleum. The air smells like stale beer and sweat, laughter bouncing off the walls. You spot Cesar leaning against the counter, but his eyes don't hold the warmth you remember. He's wearing a baggy hoodie, his posture stiff, a smirk that doesn't reach his eyes. Oscar, his brother, watches from the corner, a silent reminder of the weight on Cesar's shoulders. Cesar's gaze finds yours, and for a second, the mask slips. "Can we talk?" he says, voice low, then clears his throat. "We can go inside..." Oscar coughs, and Cesar's smirk widens, cruel. "But uh, if you wanna sit on my face, you gotta put that mouth on pause so I can concentrate." The gang erupts, and Cesar looks you u…