𝐎𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 "𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐲" 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐳 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝐂𝐖: 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞
The room exuded the scent of red peonies, vanilla, and copal incense. Amid the accumulated smoke, [Y/N] sat at her vanity, plucking her eyebrows to perfection as they were the first step in her makeup routine. Today wasn't a normal day—the first brushstroke of makeup felt like it could change the course of everything. Although her work would most likely go unnoticed, today was [Y/N] and Oscar's third anniversary. Three years of stolen kisses under the stars, whispered nothings, and unbroken promises. True, devoted love.
The sun was just beginning to set, and while some peoples days were ending, [Y/N]'s was just beginning. This was how her life was and she loved it.
Oscar Diaz, the young man she had been with since they were fourteen—they were each other's first everything. To say [Y/N] was devoted to Oscar was an understatement. Her behavior over the years had earned her the nickname "La Crazy." While it irritated her at first, after a while she claimed the name and wore it proudly. [Y/N] would turn Freeridge inside out if it meant making Oscar Diaz smile—the kind where his eyes would crinkle and his adorable dimples would appear, the one that had been hers since they were fourteen.
Oscar would always chuckle whenever he heard someone shout "Spooky, La Crazy is here for you," because not long after, he'd see [Y/N] storming over to him in a rage because she'd seen another girl get too close to him. "Eres mi loquita" Oscar would whisper when they cuddled late at night, in response [Y/N] would press soft all over his face.
"You're just now getting ready?" A voice jolted [Y/N] out of her trance like state.
She looked over to see her caramel skinned younger brother in the doorway—richly tanned from his time spent under the sun.
"No, I'm not getting ready I'm going to bed." [Y/N] remarked sarcastically, to which Matteo rolled his eyes.
"Y'know mom is gonna be pissed when she finds out you're out after she's gotten home from work, right?" Matteo learned on the doorframe, arms crossed.
"If she finds out that is. Plus if she does, I'll just say I was over at Daliah's and lost track of time." [Y/N] shrugged, Matteo gave a pessimistic look as he scanned her appearance.
"Are you and Spooky goin' out or something?" Matteo asked, his brows furrowing. [Y/N] was extra glittery tonight.
"It's our anniversary." [Y/N] replied matter-of-factly. She then turned back to her mirror, resuming her makeup with a brush of blush.
A quick glance at the clock told she had another hour before it was time to leave and make her appearance at Oscar's block party. The thought of finally seeing him made her heart flutter—he had been busy all day with the Santos, handling whatever jobs he had been assigned. Because of this, they weren't able to celebrate their anniversary properly, which had led to a heated argument the night prior when Oscar had cancelled all of their plans for the day due to "Santos Business" that she couldn't know about.
The two apologized earlier this day via text and exchanged their usual daily affections. However, [Y/N] didn't tell Oscar she'd show up at his party tonight. He was under the impression they'd celebrate their anniversary properly tomorrow—which was true—but she still wanted to see him on the actual day.
"That's corny as hell," Matteo chuckled.
"Did you know you don't need love to be happy in life, look me!"
"That's because no girl wants a guy who spends his days smelling like sweat, only eating cheese puffs, and playing Fortnite." [Y/N] snapped, to which Matteo scoffed.
"No, that's because I have a job as a Fortnite positivity speaker—which is a full time job—which means I don't have time for women, even though they all want me." Matteo remarked with a stern expression.
There was a pause following Matteo's response, which made him smirk in empowerment.
"Oh you're serious!" [Y/N] said before bursting out into laughter.
"Y'know what? Screw you," Matteo frowned, clutching his chest dramatically.
"This conversation is wasting my time! I have people waiting on me to help carry the team!" He spat, pushing himself off the doorframe and walking back to his room.
[Y/N] chuckled to herself as she finally started styling her tight curls. She'd leave them down tonight—just the way Oscar liked. By time she was finished, everything on her was done exactly the way Oscar liked.
[Y/N] glanced at the clock. It was time to go. She didn't take long to grab her purse and keys before heading out. Out of her room and down the hallway she walked, the scent of [Y/N]'s copal incense and Matteo's shouts of profanities at his small, hand-me-down television fading away as she exited the front door.
[Y/N]'s car was a two door, 1952 Chevrolet Styleline Deluxe with white wall tires, and a teal sparkly finish that she had painted herself. The vehicle was one of her most prized possessions—not only was it her first car, but also because Oscar had helped her obtain and fix the vehicle up. It was yet another reminder of why she devoted herself so much to him.
When the dark haired young woman finally arrived to the party, her presence had heads turning.
"Aye! It's La Crazy!" A male voice shouted as she stepped out of her vehicle, she confidently grinned, recognizing the voice.
"Smiley!" [Y/N] warmly called back as she walked over to the group Smiley was with. She scanned their faces: Yelena, Beto, Chaparro, and Sad Eyes.
"[Y/N]! Girl I thought you weren't coming, why are you so late?" Yelena said, immediately pulling [Y/N] in for a deep embrace. Yelena smelled of cinnamon, hair that was fried straight, and the sweet-candy scented candles from Bath and Body Works.
"I was getting ready! You know I had to take my time," [Y/N] began with an excited grin "It's June thirteenth!" she continued, watching as the guys exchanged confused looked while Yelena's face lit up.
"Stop talking to us and go see him now! I'm pretty sure he's inside!" Yelena giddily spoke as she bounced in place, pushing [Y/N] away.
"Okay okay!" [Y/N] giggled as she rushed off, her smile uncontrollable.
"What's June thirteenth?" Chaparro questioned, the young men all looked at Yelena with curiosity.
"[Y/N] and Spooky's third anniversary!" Yelena grinned. "Isn't that so romantic?" she sighed longingly.
"Yeah, three years of being able to hit all night, every night sounds pretty romantic to me" Beto snickered, making a thrusting motion that earned a look of disgust from Yelena and Sad Eyes while Chaparro and Smiley chuckled it off.
"That's why you don't got a mujer Beto," Sad Eyes said. "You joke around too much. Chicks don't like that shit."
Yelena nodded in agreement.
Meanwhile, [Y/N] pushed through the crowd that overfilled the inside of Oscar's house. If it felt crowded outside, it felt suffocated inside. The bass of the music vibrated through her chest, and all she could focus on was how her stomach flipped with warmth. After a long day, she'd finally get to see her Oscar.
With no sign of him around, she forced her way toward the backyard, the only place she knew he'd be. The thought of seeing his smile and his eyes light up when he'd see her sent a shiver of joy down her spine. Three years. Three years of him choosing her, of everything about him intoxicating her like a drug she never wanted to quit.
As she neared the back door, the sound of the voices from outside became more apparent. As she shoved the door open, laughter drifted towards her. Oscar's laughter. It caused her heart to skip a beat.
[Y/N] shoved through yet another crowd, her eyes locking onto Oscar's shaven head. There he was, just like she figured—cigarette between his fingers, lounging in a white lawn chair. When she finally pushed through the last person needed to clearly see him, like [Y/N] expected, there Oscar was with a cigarette in his mouth sitting on a white lawn chair.
What she did not expect was a straight haired brunette to be perched up on his lap, her lips pressing kisses on him exactly where [Y/N] always did. Oscar's hands were on this girls waist, exactly like how they would be on [Y/N]'s. His laughter was still ringing in the air, oblivious that she was here.
[Y/N]'s vision blurred. Blood rushed to her head, her ears ringing. Her fists clenched so tight that it felt like her sharp acrylics could draw blood, her chest heaving as if she had been sucker-punched. The music, the laughter, the smoke—it all faded as if she were in a dream. This had to be a sick dream.
She couldn't breath, couldn't think, only move.
Within the blink of an eye, [Y/N] charged forward to the scene. Her heels stabbing into the grass.
In one violent motion, [Y/N] drove her fist straight into the side of the brunette's head. The crack of the impact echoed in the now stunned silence. The girl's head snapped to the side, her body toppling off Oscar's lap as she crumbled to the ground, hand flying to the side of her bloody face.
"Aye [Y/N], chill out girl!" Oscar called out as he raised his hands with furrowed brows. His protests were useless.
"Happy anniversary, pendejo," [Y/N] sharply spat shoving Oscar's chest with both hands, the white lawn chair tipping over with a hollow thud as he hit the ground.
She loomed over him, chest heaving, her voice trembling with fury as the crowd around them froze in place, watching.
"Three years," she hissed. "And this is how you celebrate?"
Then—a sharp splitting pain erupted in the back of [Y/N]'s head. Her vision blurred as she stumbled forward, her knees nearly hitting the ground. She whirled around, hand flying to the throbbing spot, her fingers coming away with blood.
The brunette stood there, a jagged piece of firewood clutched in her hand, her face twisted in rage.
"Who the fuck do you think you are, bitch!?" the brunette snapped, her voice dripping with venom. "You don't ever put your hands on me, you crazy put–"
[Y/N] didn't let her finish. With a growl, she lunged.
Before that night, La Crazy was just a nickname the neighborhood had given [Y/N], it was a reflection of the devotion everyone saw in her for Oscar Diaz. To some it was a mockery, a dig at how far she'd go for him. To others, it was a term of endearment, a nod to the way she loved him without hesitation.
However as [Y/N] took out her rage on the brunette who was most likely just as innocent as she was, the name La Crazy became bigger than Oscar ever was. As [Y/N] ruthlessly beat the brunette in front of her to a pulp, it was clear something in her had snapped. The hatred coursing through her veins at that moment felt stronger than the love she'd ever had for Oscar.
[Y/N] heaved once she finished her attack, her chest rising and falling as if she had just run a marathon. Her hands were red, knuckles split but she didn't care. She trembled with fury, her entire being radiating it.
[Y/N] was silent as she scanned her surroundings. The crowd had grown—there were faces she recognized, faces she didn't. "Are you happy now!?" She screamed, her voice cracking as she whipped her head towards Oscar.
He stood there, silent, his expression deadpan. Unmoved.
"I hate you," [Y/N] growled from the depths of her being. She locked eyes with him, her gaze burning with animosity—those were same eyes she once looked into with love, with trust, with everything. "You will never come near me again" she said, voice shaking but firm. She stared at him for a couple seconds more before turning her heel and storming out.
It wasn't until she reached her car where reality finally hit. The cold metal handle and lingering scent of paint grounding her to reality. This wasn't a nightmare, this wasn't a bad dream she could just wake up from.
[Y/N] broke into a sob, her body almost falling over as the weight of it all came crashing down on her. The tears came hot and fast as she fumbled with the car door. She sank into the drivers seat, her hands gripping the wheel like it was the only thing stopping her from falling apart.
The young man she saw moments ago wasn't her Oscar, that was a completely different man. But then again, who's to say her Oscar was even the real Oscar? Only one thing was clear here, Oscar Diaz was an impersonator. Questions of what was or wasn't true during these past three years flooded [Y/N]'s mind as she shakily started the ignition.
This really wasn't a sick dream.
As she slowly began to drive off, not only did she leave the block party that night but she also left the life she thought she knew with Oscar behind her. Planning to never revisit this era of her life.
gracieabrams
theartofmadeline
2087
stormborns
titsay
kianamaiart