αяє тнσѕє му ¢нυ¢к тαуℓσяѕ? *:.｡..｡.:*ℍ𝕠𝕓𝕚𝕖 𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕨𝕟 *:.｡. .｡.:*

𝖢𝖧𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖤𝖱 𝖳𝖶𝖤𝖫𝖵𝖤: 𝖯𝗌𝗁, 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖫𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖬𝖾

~

"Ma?" I call, dipping my head to fit my body through my bedroom window. "You home?"

"Nena? Is that you?" Her voice echoes from the kitchen. Closing the sliding window behind me, I begin to slip a green sweater over my suit, tucking the hood into the back. The aromas from Mal's cooking encircles my senses, bringing me closer to god.

"Yes, jefa. What are you cooking? It smells divine." Hands planted on the doorway, I watch her from my room. She shuffles from counter to counter, smears of different ingredients lining her apron.

"La Bandera. And what did I tell you about climbing through that window, mija? It's dangerous. Just go through the front door." She scolds, but smiles as she does so, crows feet deepening.

"Aah, sorry, sorry." I come up behind her, wrapping my arms around her torso.

"I don't want to get you dirty, nena. Why so cuddly, hm?" Leaning her head against my arms, her salt-and-pepper curls tickle my nose. I take in her warmth, her scent, just her existence.

"Just missed you."

"You were only gone for a few hours. Now hop off, I need to clean up. You can have some when its ready." Maleena shrugs me off starting to wipe down the counters.

"Could I get two portions to-go? I'm meeting a friend later. If that's alright with you." I move to the sink, filling it with hot water from the tap. Adding some detergent, I watch the the bubbles swell.

"A boy?" Planting her hands on her hips, she turns to face me, brow quirked.

"Maybeeeee." I say, dragging out the 'ee'. I start scrubbing down the cutting board, using it as an excuse to avert my gaze.

"Be careful, mija. I watched your mother fall in love with your father, and when she fell pregnant with you and your sister, it changed her. She had big dreams; but they fizzled out when she was forced into a housewife position." Her tone turned gentle, her words rushing over me like a loving stroke to my heart.

"Ma! We aren't... Doing that. He's just a friend." I giggle, flicking a few bubbles in her direction.

"That's what they all say.." She mumbles, turning back to stir the pot on the stove.

Psh.

My fingers are wrinkled and soft by the time I finish washing the soiled dishes. Draining the sink, I dry my hands before slipping my phone out of my jean pocket.

'4:56pm'

Has the meeting wrapped up? I haven't heard anything from Hobie...

I open our chat, typing a simple 'Hey' .

Read.

Typing...

'hi brit hater'

I chuckle at his petty remark.

I slip into the bathroom, flicking the switch on before starting to take off my clothes and suit. Discarding them into a rumpled pile, I do a quick once over of my body, making sure there were no drastic scrapes. All I found were bruises.

The cold of the tub seeps into my feet as I step in, turning the tap all the way hot.

Letting it warm up, I brush out any debris from my hair with my fingers. No time to wash my hair, I'll just brush it. (sorry if ur bald babe xx)

By now the water was steaming, fogging up the mirror mounted above the jack-and-jill vanity. I start to lather myself with my favourite soap, its scent circling the now-moist bathroom. I quickly wash off any soap suds before washing my face.

After I turn off the water, I step out onto the bathmat, dripping all over the floor. I pat myself dry before running a brush through my hair, neatening it tangles from being under my mask for so long.

Now mostly dry, I creep from the bathroom towards my bedroom, towel wrapped around my now-freezing body.

What the hell do you wear to a boy's house? I question myself as I stare down the hangers in my closet.

I settle on a clean pair of trackpants, along with a matching hoodie over a black cropped shirt. Slipping on a thick pair of socks, I try to decide on a pair of shoes.

A pair of green Chuck Taylors, a pair of black and white spider vans, or high top air forces?

I settle on the chucks, as they would be the easiest to swing in, since the shoes I usually wear with my suit are the same shoes, in a different colour.

Slipping a tote bag over my shoulder, I put my phone and mask in my big hoodie pocket.

"Jefa, I'm off now. Just gotta pack the containers!" I call, making my way back to the kitchen.

"Have fun, mija! And NO FUNNY BUSINESS!" Mal yells from her spot on the couch.

"Don't worry, I'll be good!"

Well, I'll certainly try.

~

A/N:

yippee another chapter

Just wanted to thank all of you for your support! every time I see a notification on my phone saying someone has commented, voted or saved this story to a reading list i grin uncontrollably hehe

i wanted to add some traditional nicknames/terms of endearment, i hope i didnt butcher them! pls let me know how i can fix it if i have messed up!

also we love mal. if anyone says ONE nasty word abt her i will find you.

KEY:

Nena/e: "baby boy" or "baby girl" (In some families, the nickname nene or nena sticks to a person for their entire life when among family members.)

Jefa/e: Literally meaning "boss," this nickname refers to the matriarch or patriarch of the family.

mija/o: pretty sure it means 'darling', or 'my girl' 'my boy'. (correct me if im wrong, these are the two different variants ive found from my research).

thanks again lovelies! pls dont be a ghost reader- comment something, even if its just gibberish LOL