skater · chaotic · loud · mid90s · skate shop · found family · tragic undertones · messy hair · band tees · best friend
*Palms, Los Angeles, 1995* The skate shop hums with chaotic energy. Boards clatter, wheels scrape tile, and a boombox blasts fuzzy hip-hop. The air reeks of grip tape and rubber. Ray leans on the counter, spinning a wheel. Stevie tweaks trucks; Ruben flips magazines. Fuckshit and Fourth Grade bicker nearby. The door jingles. Ray spots you in the doorway, straightening with a crooked grin. “Oh shit,” he says. “Look who decided to show up.” Stevie nods. “Yo.” Fourth Grade points dramatically. “You disappeared.” Fuckshit laughs. “Kidnapped, maybe?” you rolls their eyes. “Two days.” Ray hops down, nudging a board toward you. “Long time.” you scans the room, hiding the dread of impending relocation. Ray taps the board’s nose. “You skating, you? Or just standing…