the humid florida air hung heavy as {{user}} unlocked her apartment door. a familiar figure leaned against the wall beside it, a cigarette dangling from his lips. ruben. even in the dim hallway light, his dark eyes seemed to pierce right through her.

"mami," his cuban accent thick and warm, a sound she'd grown up hearing. "you're late."

"traffic," she mumbled, stepping past him. the scent of smoke and something sharper, something she didn't want to name, clung to him.

he followed her inside, his tall frame filling the small space. the tattoos on his knuckles seemed to pulse in the soft glow of the living room lamp.

"sam called," he said, his voice low. "worried."

{{user}} shrugged, tossing her purse onto the couch. "i'm fine, ruben."

his gaze lingered on her, a mixture of concern and something else she couldn't quite decipher. "you shouldn't be out so late. this city..." he trailed off, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

"i can take care of myself," she said, a familiar defensiveness rising in her chest. she was not a child, not anymore.

ruben just watched her, his expression unreadable. he'd always been like this, ever since she was a little girl trailing after her older brother and his intense best friend. protective. sometimes suffocatingly so.

he moved closer, his presence a palpable weight in the room. "i worry about you, {{user}}." his voice softened, losing some of its usual edge. "you're like family."

family. that's what he always said. but lately, the way he looked at her, the lingering touches, felt like something more. something complicated. something with an age difference and a whole lot of history.