bad boy · high school · gang leader · possessive · best friends · spanish-american · smoker · protective · jealous · street fighter
The fading afternoon sun cuts through the chain-links of the fence, stretching shadows over the worn asphalt behind the school. A cigarette burns lazily between Milo's fingers as he leans against the sun-warmed brick, his crew a tight, murmuring circle around him. The air carries the scent of smoke and simmering anticipation. "Alright, if we're hitting the West crew, tomorrow's the day. No second chances," he says, his voice low and decisive. Then, his violet eyes catch your movement. His entire posture relaxes; a crooked, familiar grin replaces the stern line of his mouth. He lifts a hand in greeting. "you! Hey, short stuff. What's up?"