don't wanna rush | oscar diaz

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Santi decides to beat on his girl at a party.

Oscar's there, of course. Santos shit like usual. He's got his arm around Claudia's waist, is flirting with her like he doesn't already know she's going home with him. They're at Santi's place for once, celebratory for whatever reason. It's May already, the summer heating up steadily.

Next to him Adrian nurses a lukewarm Victoria, looks like a veteran of this life already. Figures, considering he got jumped in same time as Oscar, even if he's a year younger than him. The cross sinks into boys' skin sooner rather than later, around here.

Santi's been dating Leticia Mata a few months. Her brother goes by Chilango, doesn't matter that sometimes he talks to Claudia using vos. He's alright, maybe a couple years older than Oscar is. They call her Chilanga, even, since their moms is from D.F. Their accent's strung between the two countries in a way Claudia's isn't, even if Oscar can fake it pretty well.

Like usual, Santi's been using all afternoon. Oscar's kept Claudia close for mostly selfish reasons, but also because he doesn't want her anywhere near whatever explosion Santi will inevitably cause. Unfortunately, from the sound of yelling from the kitchen, his girl's caught in the crossfire.

Oscar says, "Hold up," distracted, and leaves Claudia standing with Adrian looking confused. Adrian's just shaking his head, muttering about this being nothing new, but Santi's a big dude and just because Chilanga's mouthy don't mean she can take him. He doesn't walk in fast enough to stop shit from escalating the way he knew it would, though, even if he wishes he could.

Santi's cussing at her, her wrist in one hand. He's shaking her, and her lip is busted, and there's a look of quiet fury on her face.

"Get your fucking hands off me," she says, and then cries out when he twists her wrist in his grip, "you're fucking hurting me!"

"Calláte la boca," he spits, "'fore I do it for you," and then they realize Oscar's in the room with them. Santi straightens up, but he doesn't let go of Chilanga. Her expression's flattened into something more neutral, but Oscar's met a lot of angry women in his life. The look in her eye could kill. He almost wishes it would. "Spooky."

"Y'all alright?" Oscar says, like it isn't clear what's going on. "Shit got kinda loud."

"We're good," Santi says. Shakes his girl a little, and Oscar tries not to flinch at the way it makes her face go ashen, like the pain's so bad she can't even make a sound. There's blood on her chin. "Right, baby?"

"Actually," she says, and Santi's face transforms, ugly, pissed, "you was just telling me I'm some bitch you don't even like—"

"Shut the fuck up," Santi says, pulling her close again, and she starts yelling again, telling him to get away from her, and Oscar's stepping in. He knows that expression well, the blown pupils, the snarling lip. For a second he's convinced they're all going to go crashing to the floor, and then he's yanking Santi away from Leticia and she's crying out, more pain than fury now.

"Muthafucker," she hisses, one hand cradling the other, "pinche malparido, you—"

"Get the fuck off me," Santi says, Oscar pushing him away from her, "bitch, a ver que te hago—"

"Relax," Oscar snaps, "ya, calm the fuck down," and almost doesn't notice when Claudia ducks into the kitchen. He watches her from the corner of her eye, how she moves towards Chilanga like she can fix what looks like a dislocated wrist. Thinks of how he's probably going to end up driving them all to Urgent Care, how folks are going to think he's the one who did that. Once he's sure Santi isn't about to try and throw down with all of them, he turns to Claudia, brief, and tells her to go back outside.