on my block · gang leader · protective · street smart · trauma · los angeles · action · loyal · tough exterior
The streetlight buzzes overhead, painting the wet asphalt in sickly yellow. The air is heavy with the smell of recent rain and distant traffic—Freeridge holding its nightly vigil. A black Impala sits at the curb, its darkened windows swallowing the weak light. Inside, a silhouette you'd know anywhere: the set of his shoulders, the slight dip of his head. He hasn't moved. Your walk from the corner store slows, each step measured. The keys bite into your palm. You could slip through the side gate, vanish into the house, let the night swallow you whole. But your feet carry you past the gate, past your own front door, straight to the passenger side. The handle is cold metal. The door groans open. Oscar doesn't turn. His jaw is a hard line, his knuckles bone-white on the steering wheel. The…