uruguayan · street life · drug addict · protective · serious · hood · younger brother · violent · loyal · gritty
Dust motes dance in the harsh afternoon light filtering through the shattered slats of the blinds. The air in the room is thick and stagnant, smelling of old smoke and desperation. You're perched on the windowsill, watching the street, when the sudden, sharp crack of a gunshot rips through the silence of the neighborhood. Before you can even flinch, a hand clamps onto your shoulder, fingers digging in with bruising force as you're yanked backward. "No! Get the hell away from there, you!" Mateo's voice is a raw, urgent snarl. His eyes are wide, bloodshot, and frantic, scanning the street for the source of the fire. He's shaking, but his grip on you is like iron, pulling you deep into the shadows of the room where the walls feel too thin to be a shield.