There are no good Rio fics out there with an OFC and it's killing me. So I wrote one.
Chapter 1
He stared at her. If he was a dog, he would've drooled. If he was a cartoon character, his heart would've been pumping out of his chest in a grotesque shape against the fur of his ribs.
But he was just a boy. 6 years old, holding a melting ice cream cone that dripped blue and pink onto his fingernails. And she was just a little girl, 4 or 5 years old, with her dark brown hair in a messy ponytail, mussed up from the wind. Her mom held her firmly by the hand, a gesture Rio had long abandoned because he was a big boy now.
She looked at him with impossibly big eyes and cocked her head, like a bird. She gave him a gap-toothed smile, and left.
And since that summer, when he was just 6 years old, Rio had been obsessed with Lara Delgado. He found out, a few years later, that she was in the same elementary school as him. He didn't miss it when she appeared in middle school, when he had to redouble his 8th grade and she just started her 7th.
It was on that faithful first day of school that Rio took his courage in his two tiny hands and introduced himself. He hadn't quite worked out the charm and the swag yet, so he fumbled with his words a little bit. She found it intriguing and allowed him to play basketball with her during lunch recess.
And when she appeared in high school, looking for him in the great hall of the city school, she found him. But this time, he'd shed his little boy persona and exchanged it for a man she didn't know. She was in grade 9, a freshman, and he was in grade 10, but his friends were all in grade 11 or even seniors. She had to take a step back, examine him from far, the way he moved, gracefully, like a snake in water. The way he hung out with older men right off school property, exchanging handshakes that sounded like crumpled paper.
He was not a good boy anymore, but as soon as he spotted her climbing down her bus, his face split into that bright smile she would remember forever.
"Oh, Laraaaa," he sung, skipping up to his friend, swinging an arm over her shoulders. It was heavy. Warm. He smelled like cheap Axe body spray and chocolate.
"Hey, Rio," she said, smiling shyly. She couldn't help her angsty teen-self. Any time a boy gave her any sort of attention, it was like nothing else mattered. But she soon learned Rio was just a friend.
"How you findin' high school?"
She shrugged. "It's freshman year," she answered. "Nothing interesting yet."
He laughed, all teeth and stomach. "You still readin' all those books?" He would never forget the size of her bag in middle school or having to pull her hair in the library so she would finally look up from her book.
She smiled. He remembered.
"Yeah," she said. "Always do. Always will."
"Cool, cool," he said, absentminded as always. "You think you could handle some of my homework, then?"
She stopped, looked up at him and those big eyes. He was so young back then. His hair was still curly and long. His face smooth from the scars, the beard. He'd still been so innocent.
"I'm kidding, Lara," he laughed, hugging her to him. She could feel the press of his ribs against her shoulders. "Lighten up!"
She chuckled, pushing hair out of her face, and stepped away. She felt the loss of him quite tenderly. He looked at her, lower lip pouted. "I gotta go," she said. "I have a math qualification quiz. I really want to get into enriched."
"Dang," he sighed, hands shoving into his pockets. "We really went separate ways."
She smiled then, goofy. "Whatever, come over after school, yeah?" she said, playing off his mood lightly.
He nodded, took a step back. "I'll be round seven, that's cool?"
She frowned. "That's late."
He smiled. "Live a little." And then he was off. Lara noticed a few guys waiting off the edge of the school gates, angry looking men with leather cuts and a few mismatched tattoos. Rio was so tiny next to them. He hadn't hit his growth spurt-which he was still pissed about-and those guys looked like they were there to pop his skull like a cherry tomato.
But they shook his hand like old buddies and Lara stuffed that at the back of her mind and went to school.
He came around that night. And every night. Sometimes she would read to him or they would take turns playing Sims on her new computer. Or he'd bring over a scary movie and popcorn and he'd laugh every time she'd gasp in fear. Or they'd watch reruns of H2O, try to eat as many lollipops as they could, talked about how much Rio hated school.
One night, when Lara was supposed to be writing her grade 9 English essay, Rio turned to her, propped in her papasan chair, and said, "I dropped out."
She looked up from where she lay, on her stomach on the floor. "Why?" She put her pen down onto her papers and settled her chin in her hands, elbows digging into her carpet floors.
He shrugged. "You know I don't like school," he said, but she could tell he was uncomfortable. "I'm flunking out of everything. I hate everyone there."
He must've been seventeen by then, and he'd already gotten a secret tattoo on his arm, smoked weed and told her about it, stolen a few things, including a car. Needless to say, her parents didn't think he was a good influence. That's why she begged to have her room moved to the basement so he could keep coming by after school. Except now he was sneaking in.
"You hate me?" she squeaked, feigning hurt.
He smiled. "No." Then he got serious again, his smile sloughing off his face. "But I'm needed elsewhere."
She took a deep breath in. She knew what. Everybody knew what Rio did. He was getting into gangs, or whatever her dad had said once. He was selling drugs or guns or whatever a fifteen year old girl can imagine.
But he'd always been nice to her. He was the guy who beat up her grade 9 bully. Who taught her how to ride a motorcycle and cradled her face into his shoulder when she fell off and broke her wrist. He's the guy who made sure no one bothered her when she finally got her boobs-and kept getting them. He's the guy who broke the nose of the boy who kept trying to sneak his hands down her shirt. Who bought her new shoes just because she said they were nice.
Who sat on her floor with a pack of cherry lollipops in his lap and watched every episode of One Tree Hill. Who sat up, criss cross apple sauce, and told her how much he hated Luke after season 4.
Who gave her money when she wanted to buy a nice present for her parents at Christmas.
"But you're really smart, Rio," she protested now, sitting up and crossing her legs under her.
He shrugged. "It could be useful for other things."
"Like what?" she asked slowly, dreading what came next. "Gangs?"
He sat up abruptly, the hurt etching on his features so quickly, she almost forgot who he was. Frowning, face contorted in fast rage, he spat, "What the fuck else am I supposed to do, huh?" She opened her mouth to apologize, but he scooted closer to the edge of the chair. "A bank job? A 9-5 with barely any pay or benefits to cover anything? Spend the rest of my days filling in a 401(k) just to die at my desk when I'm fifty? Huh, sweetheart, is that how you think my life is going to be?"
It was the first time he'd ever given her a pet name.
She sat there, mouth ajar, eyes filling with tears. "I'm just saying, you're made for more than this."
He chuckled darkly. "Yeah, yeah, so you can make me some perfect bitch boy?"
She frowned. "What does that even mean?" she asked angrily.
He got up suddenly. He towered over her, staring down at her. Like he was trying to intimidate her. "I'm never going to be like you, Lara," he mumbled. "Not like your dad. Or your mom. I don't want this life. Okay?"
"Okay," she answered. "Whatever. I still like you the way you are."
He startled at that, frowning in confusion. "Like me?"
She blushed hard, shaking her head and going back to her paper on the floor. "As a friend," she mumbled.
His shoes stayed in the corner of her eye for a while, silently, thinking, until he shuffled to the window and ripped it open. She sighed. "Rio," she said, looking up at him. He looked back with nothing on his face, like his features had been wiped clean.
"Yeah?"
She hesitated and got to her feet. "Tomorrow's OTH," she said. "Should I keep the window unlocked?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Do whatever you want, mami."
And she watched him pull up onto the window and belly crawl out her window. For the last time.
For the longest time ever, she wondered what she'd said wrong. She'd only believed in him. And his absence in her life, at school, in her room, left a bruise on her ribcage. Anytime someone mentioned him, or she'd see a boy with curly black hair, or she'd hear someone laughing like him-the pain would flare up as if someone had poked her bruise.
And then the bruise started to fade when she entered grade 10. She would still look over the school fence, try to spot him or his friends. No one showed. In grade 11, when she was knee deep in maths and science, she thought she heard his voice outside her study hall, and it brought a nostalgic smile to her face to remember her childhood friend.
In grade 12, after completing her college apps, she thought she saw him at the grocery store, but this man had a closely shaved head and so many tattoos.
And by the time she left for college, packing up an old car her dad bought for her, she had completely forgotten about the boy who used to sneak in. Who used to lay his head in her lap and fall asleep while she smashed an entire bag of popcorn and watched the rest of OTH. The boy who used to protect her and tease her and put his arm over her shoulders.
College was fun. She got to make some real friends who took the time to know her. Boys remained annoying and gross, so she avoided parties and stayed in the library most of the time.
But it seemed she wasn't meant to be where she was. A year and a half in, when she was just about to celebrate her twentieth birthday, one of her best friends got cheated on by her dumb boyfriend. So Lara put on a black hood and brought her anger up to his door, threatened him with a knife, and got herself expelled.
"What were you thinking?" her dad yelled when she walked into the family room, two suitcases and a schoolbag trailing behind her. Her mom sat in her chair by the window, nursing a cold cup of tea.
Lara tried not to cry but she could never help the tears when they decided to show up. "I don't know," she mumbled. "I wanted to help someone. Do something for someone that I love for once."
And right there, standing with her dignity in shreds before her parents, she was brutally reminded of Rio. How he used to help her with everything. With that nasty boy and his wandering hands. With her confidence for class presentations. With her self-love. And she'd wanted to be like him for once, help someone else.
And it was so fucking stupid.
Her parents let her sleep it off, cry it off, spend a few nights sitting in the corner of the steaming shower. And then they gave her two weeks to move out.
"Find an apartment."
"In the city?" she squeaked.
Her dad shrugged as if he didn't care. "Whatever you find." Then he looked up from his eggs. "Get a job. Find a place to live. We will not support you anymore. Not if you're not going back to school."
Her coffee turned to ash in her mouth. "I just need time to figure out what I'm going to do."
Her father put his fork down. "You had a week, and nothing." He swallowed a gulp of coffee. "You will not free load."
She frowned. "Okay."
She understood what he was doing. Tough love and everything. But it still hurt. And it stung when she put everything she owned in boxes and found an old, crystallized bag of lollipops under her bed. It tore her apart when she signed a lease for a place near the city, just outside enough not to freak her out. She almost vomited when she got the key, got her fridge and washing machine, closed the door on the movers and faced her new home.
A lone couch, three bookshelves well-stocked, a folding chair and a matching table, and everything in her room. Including the hard-as-rocks, decades old bag of lollipops.
After a few weeks, it became okay. Her neighbours were mostly old people. She found a job at a bookstore in the city. She had the evening shift at first and then convinced her boss to take the day shift.
She found her favorite grocery store, her favorite mall, and even where she could go to the movies on the weekends. All her friends were still in college, and she didn't keep in touch with her high school friends anymore.
She was truly alone.
Until she picked up a banana at the store and watched as the entire yellow pyramid tumbled down into her cart, filling it so high that the cart crashed to the side.
"Jesus," she sighed.
"Oh, my bad, that might be my fault."
She almost smiled. She had to physically restrain it off her face as she turned.
She almost didn't recognize him. He'd gotten a close shave. A beard. A neck tattoo.
But he was still her scrawny little friend, just a few-a lot of-inches taller. It appeared that he'd grown in the years they were apart.
She felt her bruise completely fade, her heart pick up speed as he took a few steps closer. "Hey mama," he rasped. Even his voice had changed. He was not a boy anymore. "Where you been?"
