Chapter One. Julian #2
Julian found Luca hunched in the couch corner, fidgeting with his blankie. The frayed blue fabric looked like it might unravel completely, kind of like Luca himself.
He flopped down next to him. “Yo. What’s eating you, man?”
Luca flinched, fingers tightening on the fabric. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
Julian snorted. “Yeah, and I’m Tony Hawk. Spill it!”
Luca’s shoulders slumped. “I gotta go to my parents’ tonight.”
The room went still. Flaca’s mouth twisted. Rocky stopped sweeping.
Julian’s chest clenched. He didn’t need details—he knew exactly what those visits meant. Luca’s parents were abusive pieces of shit.
“You don’t have to go,” Julian said quickly.
“You can stay here with us,” Flaca added, arms crossed but voice soft.
“Skip it!” Rocky said with forced brightness, brushing off her Shohei Ohtani jersey.
“We’ll crank up the music, annoy the neighbors, call it a night,” Omar added, putting on his usual air of I don’t care, though Julian knew he cared a lot. Probably the most.
Julian leaned in, trying to catch Luca’s eyes. “Yeah, man. Stay. Who cares about them?”
Luca shook his head. “I can’t, Jules. They’re expecting me. If I don’t show…” He trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid.
Julian reached for his St. Jude pendant, fingers curling around the cool metal, desperate to make things better.
The necklace was a memento from his dad, but ever since Yadriel gave it back to him after Día de Muertos, it felt like something more.
A reminder that someone—that Yadriel—saw him as someone worth saving. Worth keeping.
Luca continued to knead the fraying blankie—the one he never took on those hellish visits because his parents would just try to throw it away again.
“Here,” Julian said, snatching it before Luca could react. He ripped three strips from the edge with a quick, determined yank.
“Jules!” Luca yelped, horrified.
“Relax! It’s called upcycling,” Julian muttered, tongue caught between his teeth as he wrestled the fabric into a braid.
His fingers fumbled, clumsy, but he kept at it.
He couldn’t fix Luca’s life, couldn’t stop what waited at that house, but maybe he could give him this. Something small, stupid, but his.
The strips twisted and knotted unevenly, but eventually he held up the finished bracelet—lopsided, ugly, but sturdy.
Julian grabbed Luca’s wrist and tied it on tight. He nodded to himself, satisfied with his work. “There. Now you’ve got a piece to take with you, wherever you go. Portable blankie power.”
Luca stared, lip trembling. Then he launched himself at Julian, arms locking around him in a fierce hug.
Julian laughed but squeezed back just as hard.
Sometimes it felt like he and his friends were the only things holding Luca together.
Their bad jokes, Flaca’s stubbornness, Rocky’s chaos, even Omar’s grumpy affection.
They weren’t much, but they were a net. Without them, Luca would fall straight through. Without them, Julian would, too.
He shoved every ounce of love and protection he had into their hug, his chin digging into Luca’s hair.
“Thanks, Jules,” Luca mumbled into his shoulder. “You’re the best friend a guy could ask for.”
Julian swallowed the lump in his throat. He smirked against Luca’s ear. “Damn right I am! And don’t you forget it.”
Luca ran his thumb along his new bracelet. “I should probably get going soon,” he murmured.
Julian’s fists tightened. Like hell he was letting Luca shuffle back into that nightmare without putting up a fight, or at the very least delaying it. The kid deserved junk food and trash TV, not another night of bruises.
Over his dead body. Again.
Luckily, Julian was great at distracting people. He shot upright, defiant. “At least stay for dessert! Rio made his famous box cake. Might actually be edible this time,” Julian joked.
Across the room, Rocky gasped dramatically. “How dare you disrespect the sacred chocolate cake!”
Julian smirked. “Sacred? I just don’t want to be the only one risking my life eating it!”
Flaca put her hands on her hips. “If you’re gonna go, Luca, fine. But eat something real first. No excuses.”
Julian elbowed Luca lightly. “See? Court order. Dinner with us before you take off.”
Luca hesitated, his hazel eyes flicking between all of them. The tension in his shoulders eased just a little.
The front door banged open.
“Dinner,” Rio grunted, trays balanced in both arms. His coveralls were streaked with grease, jaw set like always. “Carlos’s mom brought leftovers.”
“Ah, hell yes!” Julian cheered, already on his feet.
Rio set the food down with a clatter.
Julian peeled back the foil lid and nearly swooned. “Blessings be upon her!” Inside was a mountain of flautas, tamales stacked like bricks, rice, and enough beans to drown in. Steam curled into the room, holy as incense.
His friends swarmed the tiny table, elbowing for space, grabbing mismatched plates.
Flaca made sure everyone had equal amounts of food, including a helping for Rio, who usually waited until the rest of them ate.
Most of the time, there was barely anything left for him.
Julian hadn’t even noticed until Flaca pointed it out.
They squeezed around the table, shoulders bumping, forks clattering. Dinner was noisy and messy and perfect, the kind of chaos that made Julian feel at peace.
“What all are we doing for Christmas?” Flaca asked, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “We’re going to Carlos’s annual Christmas party, obviously.”
Every year since Julian’s dad had died, Carlos invited them over to his place for a big Christmas party.
It was always huge, filled with heaps of homemade food, lively music, and silly party games.
Over the years, the gathering had grown from just Julian and Rio attending to including Omar, Flaca, Rocky, and Luca.
Missing it would feel like letting down family.
Rocky perked up immediately. “Ooh, tamales and champurrado? Count me in.”
Omar shrugged. “Might hit up midnight mass. Gotta get on God’s good side before the year ends.”
Julian smirked. “Since when are you religious, oh pee-ous one?”
“It’s pious, chucklefuck,” Omar corrected, hurling a bean at him. “And since I decided I don’t wanna spend eternity stuck with you.”
Julian caught the joke, but his mind was already drifting. He was imagining Yadriel at the party, paper lanterns glowing across his face, smiling like he belonged there—with Julian. The thought made his chest ache in the best way.
He poked at his rice, daydreaming. Yadriel’s face kept surfacing—his grin when he’d handed Julian a new skateboard for his birthday.
It was a simple CCS—cheap grip tape, plain wheels, nothing flashy.
But to Julian, it was the best gift he’d ever gotten.
Yads must have scoured discount codes online for weeks to afford it.
Julian needed something just as awesome to give Yadriel for Christmas. Not because he felt like he owed Yadriel one, but because he wanted to make him happy. To show that Yadriel was worth the effort.
Problem was, his wallet was emptier than his plate.
“Earth to Julian!” Flaca snapped her fingers in front of his face.
His attention splintered again—a dozen tabs open in his head, each one a pop-up mini game. “Oh, uh—yeah. Just thinking about all the homemade cookies I’m gonna eat.”
Rocky narrowed her eyes. “Uh-huh. Sure you weren’t thinking about a certain cemetery boyfriend?”
Julian grinned despite himself. “Shut up!”
“Honestly, he was so scary when he first tried to introduce himself to us,” Luca said, laughing like it seemed silly now.
“Seriously terrifying!” Flaca agreed.
Omar nodded. “He showed up wearing all black, didn’t say a full sentence, and the air literally got colder around him.”
Rocky pointed her spoon at Julian. “He was being super sketchy. Dude came with two pitbulls and a whole-ass knife.”
Julian sputtered. “It’s for protection!”
“Yeah, well, we didn’t know that!” Flaca shot back. “We thought you were hanging out with a murderer!”
“Seriously,” Omar said. “He walked in like, ‘I’m a newer friend of Julian’s,’ and we were like, ‘Oh cool, this is how we die.’”
Julian dropped his face into his hands. “Oh my God, he’s like one of the nicest guys in the world!”
“Obviously,” Rocky said. “But we didn’t know that! We thought he was a serial killer!”
“Who turned out to be very sweet!” Julian protested.
“Yeah, after we realized he wasn’t gonna stab us,” Omar added.
Flaca shrugged. “It was a fifty-fifty shot.”
The table erupted in laughter.
The conversation dissolved into bickering again: Rocky threatening to put Omar’s face in the beans, Flaca rolling her eyes like she’d adopted a litter of feral cats. But Julian only half heard it. The laughter was there, the food was good, but the knot in his stomach didn’t budge.
Even surrounded by everyone he loved, something still felt off.
Luca lingered at the edge of the table. The fragile smile he’d worn during dinner had slipped.
“I should probably get going,” he said, like he already regretted it.
The room stilled.
“We just fed you!” Rocky protested. “You need like thirty minutes before going on a walk or you’ll get stomach cramps!”
“You don’t have to,” Flaca said firmly, but her voice carried more worry than command.
Omar glanced up, frowning. “Stay the night. No one’s kicking you out.”
Julian’s chest squeezed tight. “Yeah, man. Crash here!”
But Luca shook his head, his eyes wide, guilt and fear knotted together. “I can’t. You know I can’t.” His fingers worried at his bracelet until his knuckles went white. “They’ll notice.”
The protests died. They all knew what he meant.
From the armchair, Rio set his plate aside. He’d been eating in silence, but now he stood and grabbed his keys.
“I’ll drive you,” he said simply.
Luca blinked, surprised. “You don’t have to—”
Rio cut him off with a look. “Yeah, I do. You’re not walking over there in the dark by yourself.”
For a second, Luca just stared, then nodded. “Okay. Thanks, Rio.” His voice was small but relieved.