┏━━━━✶ ࣪˖࿐ *━━━━┓

STILL AN ASSHOLE

THE STREET SEEMED QUIETER, ALL OF THE SUDDEN.

The two of them were starring at each other, though in completely different ways. Spooky, who'd once held a hardened look on his face as he retold the tale, had eyes that were full of apprehension as he waited for any sort of reaction.

And Ella? Ella was looking at him in what could only be described as genuine horror.

It felt as though her entire world had been flipped upside down, really. He had a vastly different recount of that day than she did, and that was because it had all been orchestrated by the man himself. Orchestrated to get her the hell out of Freeridge, orchestrated because he knew she would've stayed behind for him.

And bitterly, she thought, he was right.

There was absolutely no chance in hell that she would've left him behind to go off on her own. Some might've seen that through a codependent lens, but they were wrong. She could survive without him, she just hadn't wanted to— not when the Santos were breathing down his neck.

Spooky had faith that she could make it out of Freeridge, but she had that very same faith in him. That was why she had pushed him so hard about college, because perhaps a push was what he needed to get his shit together and grow beyond street life.

Subsequently, he pushed her to tears that day to make her leave, because his mind had already been made up. His mind decided that he would live and die within the confines of Freeridge, and because Ella would've stayed to watch out for his stupid ass, he pushed her.

It seemed like hours had gone by as Ella wracked her brain, trying to come up with something to say to the man before her. The sounds of the night filtered into her ears as she stared at him, mouth parted like a sob was about to break through.

"You— I thought—" She swallowed, her eyes giving a rapid blink. "I thought you just got sick of me or something."

Spooky's face didn't change, but the exhale he'd taken as he was rooted in place was something she caught.

"Of you?" he asked rhetorically. "Never."

Ella thought that would've made her feel better about the entire thing— but it didn't.

She shook her head in disbelief. "I didn't have to go on my own," she said, voice returning to its normal volume. "You could've went to college, and I would've went right along. You could've—"

He took a step toward her, that familiar hard look in his eyes returning. "We both know that's not true."

"You might think that way, but I never have," she snapped, running a hand through her hair in frustration. "You wanna talk about not wanting me to waste my potential? When I've been lecturing you on wasting what you've got for years?!"

"I don't have shit, Ella!" he barked out, before gesturing around him. "This is my life. Always has been, and always will be."

Even when they'd been younger, Oscar Diaz had a nasty habit of downplaying his strengths. It was something she'd picked up on when she first offered to help him study for the spelling bee, back when they'd only just established an official friendship.

He second-guessed everything and anything that could be second-guessed in the first place, and he was always adamant that he was right in his thoughts. No matter how often Ella tried berating him into thinking anything else.

And if there was one person on this plane of existence that Ella had once believed in the most, it had been Oscar.

"God, you're such a tool," she whispered with a huff, her eyes closing on their own. "I'm beyond pissed right now."

His eyes raked her form before returning to meet her eyes as they opened again. "Be pissed," he supplied with a shrug, and the confusion must've shown on her face enough to make him smirk. "I was an asshole."

"You're still an asshole," she rephrased blandly.

Spooky chuckled, a deep sound that resonated in the air around them. "If that's what Ella Turner says, then it must be true."

Ella knew that was a dig on how she claimed to know all about his potential, and the little comment earned him a sharp smack to the chest. "Damn straight it is," she quipped, before she went to spin on her heel. "Goodnight."
 
His eyebrows furrowed, his voice calling out to her before she could go. "That's it?"

She turned to face him with exasperation. "What more do you want me to say, Spooky?" she asked, the question fading into a sigh. "I came to ask you to lay off of Ronny... and although I appreciate the honesty, it doesn't change what happened."

Spooky rolled his eyes. "It's late," he said, and she had a snide remark on the tip of her tongue about the obvious darkness around them before he tacked on a, "you can take my room."

Her nose shrivelled up. "I'm going home," she emphasized. Though, inwardly, she cursed herself for dropping her father's truck off before making her way over to the Diaz residence. "It's not a far walk."

Spooky scoffed. "Get in the house, El."

The nickname made her visibly bristle, because had he really thought everything would simply go back to the way it used to be? They couldn't go back to being Oscar and Ella, the two inseparable best friends, because he was more Spooky than Oscar these days.

And Ella wasn't exactly lining up to be Spooky's damn best friend, not with him being who he was now. However, she glanced to the dimly lit road, and her stomach churned.

"You telling me the truth doesn't change anything?" Her arms crossed over her chest in her own attempt to stand her ground. "And this is so not a slumber party, got it?"

For some reason, Spooky's smirk took hold of his face again as he nodded his head in the direction of the house.

"Whatever you say, querida."

✶ ࣪˖*

Ella was out like a light, and because she was as stubborn as anything, she'd passed out on the couch in the living room instead.

And it was only when she was fast asleep that Spooky adjusted the blanket she'd haphazardly thrown over her body. After stepping back to look at his handy work, making sure her feet were covered since he knew they always got cold during the nighttime, he retreated to his own room to think.

Well, he retreated to sit and think on his phone, anyway.

Spooky wouldn't admit it, but he had hoped that things would go back to normal. Him ruining their friendship was a sacrifice he had to make, and though he couldn't exactly pinpoint what normal would actually be now, it was something elusive that he still found himself wanting.

And while he would like to say that it was because they were different people now, that would only be a half truth. Ella hadn't changed at all, aside from the subtle changes to her appearance that were making him look twice now, but he sure as shit had the minute their friendship ended.

He wondered if it was all really worth it, the more the thought about the girl that was just in other room.

Cesar suddenly appeared in the doorway, and though he still held some residual anger toward their father leaving, he asked his brother a question. "Why's Ella sleeping on the couch?"

Spooky spared the boy a small glance before he was back to looking at the phone in his hands. "It's been a long day."

Cesar nodded, but stayed rooted in the doorway. "So..." he hummed, hesitance in his voice, "are you two, like, okay now?"

The man's jaw clenched on its own accord. "She shouldn't be walkin' around in the dark," he offered up gruffly, "that's it."

The younger Diaz's face twisted in confusion. "So, she's still mad?"

"What do you think?" Spooky deadpanned, finally looking at the boy. "Just let her sleep."

Cesar went to leave, but paused with his hand still on the wood of the doorway. "Did you apologize?"

Spooky's face gave away nothing. "Apologize?"

"For hurting her feelings?" Cesar offered, almost like he was confused himself by his brother needing clarification. "That is what happened, right?"

No, he hadn't apologized. He had told her the truth, but the words I'm Sorry never left his lips. Really, he couldn't remember the last time those words were even said. "Go to bed," he responded, his gaze back on the phone he was gripping tightly in his hand.

"Maybe you're better off starting over with Ella," Cesar shrugged, before he made a motion to leave, "instead of trying to make things normal. S'what I'm doing with Monse, y'know?"

The boy left, heading to his own bedroom, and Spooky was once alone left by himself as he contemplated his brother's words. Perhaps he didn't want normalcy, the normalcy of the past, after all.

No, perhaps he just wanted Ella.

✶ ࣪˖࿐ *

[ wyn's note ]

oooo spooky wants ella >:) but wants her in what way you might ask? >;) perhaps there's smth else is starting to play out, but spooky's a complex man so we'll see teeheheheheh

thanks a bunch for 5k!!