His Territory

11

Cristian remained eerily quiet for the rest of the evening, sitting on the couch and staring out the window into the darkness. I tried to comfort him, rubbing gentle circles on his back, talking about how much more beautiful Northridge is compared to Queens. But nothing worked. He didn't speak, didn't move. He was locked in his own world, unreachable.

By the time the clock neared eleven, I gave up trying to break through. He clearly needed space, and I wasn't sure I had the right words to pull him out of whatever storm he was weathering.

"Hey," I said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. He didn't flinch. "I'm going to bed. It's getting late."

His gaze finally shifted, but instead of meeting my eyes, he focused on my legs as I unfolded them from the couch.

"You're leaving?" he asked, his voice distant, still avoiding eye contact.

"Just to my room. I'm not going anywhere." I pointed to the basket of blankets by the side of the couch, and his eyes followed my gesture. After a moment, he nodded, reaching over to sift through the throws.

Satisfied that he was settling in, I took the opportunity to retreat to my bedroom.

Inside, I sighed as I took in the barren room. No photos, no decorations, just my bed and a few pieces of furniture. It didn't feel like home yet, but it was better than where I had come from. That much I knew.

I pulled back the covers, sliding into bed before reaching for my phone on the charger. No new messages. I opened the conversation with my mom, staring at the string of unanswered texts, tears stinging the corners of my eyes. It had been months, and she still hadn't replied to anything. Not even a single word.

I set the phone down, turning onto my back and staring up at the ceiling, counting the swirling patterns in the plaster as if they could lull me to sleep. Slowly, my eyes began to close.

A soft creak broke the silence.

I blinked, seeing Cristian standing in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the dim light from the hall. He didn't say anything as he walked over to the side of my bed and knelt down. My breath caught in my throat as he gathered my hands in his and pressed his lips gently to my fingers.

"Gloria al Dios," he whispered, his voice low, reverent. My mouth fell open in shock. No man had ever prayed with me before. "Y al Hijo y al Espíritu Santo. Como era en un principio, ahora y siempre, por los siglos de los siglos." He kissed my hands once more. "Amen."

He lifted his eyes to meet mine, and in the soft glow of the room, I could see the faint shimmer of tears in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" I asked, bringing my hand to his cheek. He leaned into my touch, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath.

"I don't want anything to happen to you, but it feels like I bring trouble wherever I go," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "If I leave, that bastard in New York could get to you. But if I stay, Jadiel might come for you. I feel selfish for leaving, but it's just as selfish to stay."

His head dropped to the edge of the bed, his voice muffled against the comforter as he continued.

"Cristian, I can't understand you."

He sat up, looking more broken than I had ever seen him. "I feel like I've won something by finding you. But it's a prize I can't keep. No matter what I do, I can't win."

His hand moved to my hair, gently tucking a strand behind my ear.

"Maybe there isn't a way to win," I said quietly. "Because life isn't a game."

"Life is the greatest game," he said, his voice growing harder. "There are winners, losers, and cheaters." His hand dropped into his lap, his gaze fixed straight ahead. "I'm a cheater, but I'm also a winner. The day I lose is the day I die."

I stared at him, his words swirling in my mind. He had put so much thought into this—into his life, his choices. I was just a small piece of it, but the weight of his burdens was heavy.

Cristian stood up, running his hands through his hair as he walked toward the door. His hand rested on the knob, and he turned to look at me one last time.

"Sleep well, amorcito."

I sat up quickly. "You can stay," I blurted out, my voice softer as I added, "if you want to, of course."

He froze, his hand still on the door. He didn't turn around, but I saw his shoulders tense.

"Say it again," he whispered. "Please."

I took a deep breath, my heart pounding. "I want you to stay."

He nodded slowly, shutting the door completely before walking back toward the bed. He bent down, his hands bracing against the mattress as he leaned in close, his face just inches from mine.

"Para ti, siempre." His words were soft, but they sent a shiver down my spine. He crawled up the bed, hovering over me, his breath warm against my skin.

For a moment, he didn't move, his lips just barely grazing mine, teasing. He smirked, letting his natural charm slip through, before placing a soft, fleeting kiss on my lips. Then, he rolled off me, lying down beside me, pulling me into his side. His arm slipped beneath my neck, the other resting on my thigh as he pulled me close, my leg draping over his waist.

He let out a satisfied hum, his fingers tracing circles on my skin.

♛♛♛

I stirred awake to the sound of buzzing, my mind groggy as I realized it wasn't my phone. I nudged Cristian gently, pushing against his shoulder.

"Hey, your phone is ringing," I whispered, but he groaned and turned away from me.

Annoyed, I planted my hands on his chest, shoving him flat on his back. "Wake up!" I said, a little louder this time.

Before I knew it, his hands were gripping my hips, and I gasped as he flipped me onto my back, pinning me beneath him with ease. His eyes, wide with surprise, locked onto mine.

My breath caught in my throat—he was stronger than I realized.

The vibration from his phone snapped him out of it, and he reached into his pocket, pulling out the device.

"Qué pasó, 'mano? It's fucking three in the morning," he grumbled, his voice heavy with sleep.

His expression changed instantly, going blank as he listened, his eyes widening slightly.

"Hang on," he said into the phone. "I'm putting it on speaker."

I stared at him, confused, as he tapped the screen.

"Lucia," the voice on the other end began, "do you remember the tag for 84th Street's boys back in New York?"

My heart skipped a beat. "No... I don't. Why?"

"We looked through police records—photos of tags for Latin gangs across the states, arrest records, everything," the voice continued. "We think that's who tagged your sidewalk."

The pieces fell into place, and my stomach tightened with dread.

Cristian's jaw clenched. "He thinks that might be who's looking for you."

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Gloria al Dios, y al Hijo y al Espíritu Santo. Como era en un principio, ahora y siempre, por los siglos de los siglos. Amen. - Glory to God, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, now and forever, for ever and ever. Amen. (Glory to God prayer)

Amorcita- love

Para ti, siempre. - For you, forever. 

Que paso, 'mano- What is your problem, bro.