Page 36 of Espíritu

“They’re normies, by the way—my friends and my brother,” Julian warned as he and Angel made their way up the steps.

Angel gave him a curious and confused look. “They are?” they asked, surprised.

Julian nodded. “Yeah, so we gotta keep all the brujx stuff hush-hush!”

Angel frowned, like she had follow-up questions, but Julian was already pushing the apartment door open with his shoulder.

The smells of chocolate cake and lemon cleaner assaulted his senses immediately, followed by the sight of his friends mid-decorating.

Flaca was on a stool draping string lights across the doorway. Rocky was sticking snowflakes to the windows with laser-level precision. Omar fluffed the sad little plastic tree like he was personally offended by its posture, while Luca adjusted the red plaid shirt they used as a tree skirt. Boxes spilled ornaments and tinsel everywhere.

“What’s goin’ on in here?” Julian asked, throwing Angel a quick don’t panic smile.

“Holiday takeover, obviously,” Flaca said without turning around. “Also, hi!” She waved the end of a light strand in Julian’s general direction. “We thought you got kidnapped.”

Omar lifted his brows. “You didn’t answer your phone. Again.”

Julian winced. He tugged his phone out—several unread messages blinked accusingly at him.

“Crap. Sorry. I got caught up with Yads and Maritza.”

Rocky huffed, but it wasn’t annoyed—more a figures kind of sound. “We assumed you were doing Important Cemetery Stuff,” she said, peeling another snowflake off the sheet. Julian’s stomach twisted anyway. Even when they weren’t mad, guilt found him just fine. He was juggling too many things—brujx stuff, school, Rio, friends, Yadriel—and some days his hands were just … full.

“I really am sorry,” Julian said, softer. “Didn’t mean to be late.”

Luca stepped forward, offering a tentative smile that made his dimples show. “We saved the ornament box for you,” he said, nudging a glittery tub toward him. “The special ones.”

Julian’s chest loosened a little. “Thanks.”

Angel hovered at the doorway like they weren’t sure where to stand, but the room’s energy wasn’t hostile—just busy, loud, familiar.

Julian crouched and flipped open the box. The ornaments were a mess of memories—the clay star Rocky made in sixth grade, the chipped bell they found at a thrift store, the snowman Flaca once hot-glued googly eyes onto at two a.m.

Warmth seeped into his bones.

Maybe he’d dropped the ball, but he’d made it home. And sometimes that counted more than being on time. He reached toward a glittery snowman, fingers brushing the soft cotton scarf, when Omar asked sharply, “Who’s that?” He jerked his chin toward Angel, still standing near the door, tense and unreadable.

“Oh, this is Angel!” Julian said quickly. “They’re a new friend. They’re staying the night.”

Rocky raised an eyebrow. “Staying the night?”

“Yup!” Julian said with forced cheer.

Flaca, bless her, smiled warmly. “Welcome to the chaos.”

“Thanks,” Angel said, their golden eyes darting around the apartment, taking in the scene.

Rio paused washing the dishes in the kitchen with a sharp glance in their direction.

“Angel, that’s my brother, Rio,” Julian introduced.

Angel lifted a hand in a hesitant greeting.

Rio nodded, reserved but not unkind, before he turned back to scrubbing dishes.

Julian shrugged. “Don’t mind him, not much of a small talker.” He gestured around. “That’s Omar,” he continued.

Omar jerked his chin up in greeting.