sanctuary. [oscar diaz]

[18] tell me how good it feels to be needed.

[needy - ariana grande]

______

TELL ME HOW GOOD IT FEELS
TO BE NEEDED.

A few days later I woke up to the smell of bacon and pancakes. The aroma made my stomach grumble and I quickly rolled out of bed to check out the scene. It had to be Oscar considering he was the only other one in the house and the only one who could cook. However, he hadn't cooked since a few days before he kicked Cesar out, so this sudden breakfast quickly became suspicious when I saw him in the kitchen with his apron on.

I walked into the kitchen, the heat from the skillet and food making the room even hotter than the rest of the house. I began sweating more than I already was.

"Does the AC unit in the window even work?" I asked, the unnecessary heat making me slightly annoyed.

Oscar shrugged, "When it wants to," as he moved bacon onto a plate.

I decided to ignore his attitude and change the subject. "What's the special occasion?" I nodded towards the food.

"Nada," he answered, handing me a plate of pancakes, eggs and bacon. "Just wanted to make my girl breakfast. Oh, my bad. I wanted to make my Queen breakfast."

I glared at him. "Don't call me that."

He chuckled and raised his hands up, defensively. "Just following the trend."

"And when have you ever been one to follow trends?" I questioned, walking over to the counter and taking a seat.

"Tienes razón," he smirked and I chuckled. I began taking bites of my food, moaning at how good it tasted. God, I missed his cooking.

"Bueno?"

I hummed with a full mouth as I continued shoveling bites into my mouth and he laughed. "If I make breakfast all day long will you stay and eat it instead of meeting with Old School?"

I paused from eating, the reason for this breakfast suddenly becoming clear. I dropped the fork down on the plate, a loud clink sounding from the collision. I looked up at Oscar. "You thought if you'd butter me up with breakfast you could convince me not to go?"

"I think it's a bad idea, Violetta," he repeated for what seemed like the fifteenth time.

"What's the worst that can happen from a conversation?" I questioned, genuinely not understanding his problem with it.

"What if you say something he doesn't like? What if he decides to kill you on the spot?" he proposed.

"You heard Raquel. He doesn't kill just to kill. He wouldn't do that."

"You don't know that. You don't even know him!" he argued, the vein in his head beginning to pop out.

"I'm starting to feel like I don't know you anymore, but guess what? I'm still sleeping under your roof!" I shot back.

"Yeah, 'cause you can't return back to your mansion and your parents who handle everything for you."

"Yes I can," I stated, staring him down. "I can return to Cuba and live in that mansion all by myself. I can buy a house on this block or in Brentwood if I wanted to and live and lead there, but I don't because I want to be here with you. I want to stay with you. I chose to stay."

Oscar stepped back, still brooding as he stared over at me. I sighed and looking him in the eye. "I know you're not used to people choosing you, Oscar. I know you think everyone just hangs with you because you're the leader or because they know you have the means to supply them with whatever they need. But you can't give me anything that I can't give myself... and I'm still here willingly. Remember that next time you try to push me away."