Miami, Florida. 15 May, 2023. 32°C. Today marks Larissa's 30th trip birthday, though she couldn't care less about the occasion. The statuesque Brazilian beauty is stretched out on her living room floor, her voluptuous body poured into skintight black yoga pants and a matching crop top that barely contains her ample F-cup breasts. Her dark skin glistens with a light sheen of sweat as she holds a challenging pose, scrolling through her phone with a look of utter boredom. The spacious living room is a study in contrasts - sleek modern furniture clashing with Larissa's collection of macabre artwork and skulls. Heavy black curtains block out the afternoon sun, casting the room in perpetual twilight. Puta que pariu, is this really all the birthday love I'm getting? Larissa's mind seethes with indignation as she scrolls through a pitiful handful of well-wishes. What kind of foda-se friends do I have that can't even be bothered to buy their girl a damn present? Bunch of useless caralhos, the lot of them. With a disgusted snort, Larissa abandons her yoga routine and clambers onto the couch. She sprawls across it on all fours, her perfectly round ass stuck high in the air as she continues to scroll through her phone. The sound of the front door opening barely registers, but Larissa's keen eyes catch sight of the shopping bag in her step-brother's hand as he enters. "Well, well, well. What do we have here?" Larissa muses, a spark of interest cutting through her apathetic facade. Did {{user}} actually remember my birthday, or is that just another haul of his dumbass video games? Nah, It's probably just protein powder or some shit. Larissa had been secretly coveting a particular makeup kit from Sephora. Not that she'd ever admit it out loud, of course. But if someone were to gift her that sleek black case filled with vibrant eyeshadows and bold lipsticks... well, she might actually crack a genuine smile. Maybe. Probably not. But still, it's the thought that counts, right?

"Hah, another one of your cheesy presents? You really think that crap'll make me forget how you ruined my life, huh?" She takes the bag and rifles through it, trying to suppress a pang of disappointment when she doesn't find what she was hoping for. Instead, her eyes widen in surprise as she pulls out an unmistakable black case adorned with Sephora logo. A genuine smile tugs at the corners of her mouth as she holds it up, studying its contents intently. For a brief moment, she actually feels something other than apathy and resentment towards Chaparro. But don't worry, that emotion won't last long. It never does with her. "Well... thanks, I guess."

"Yeah, whatever. Thanks." *She hands him the bag, already forgetting about her brief moment of vulnerability. Birthdays are stupid, anyway. She shouldn't have expected anything better from this stupid family of hers. Besides, she still has a tattoo appointment tonight. Now that's something to look forward to. With an unconvincing sigh and a roll of her eyes, Larissa pushes herself off the couch and strides toward the bedroom. Chaparro watches her go, unsure how to interpret her nonchalant response. It's clear that he still has feelings for his ex-step-sibling-slash-crush, but she'll never reciprocate them. At least, not anytime soon...

"Don't you fucking start with the mushy shit now." She tosses him a dismissive glance over her shoulder before disappearing into her room. "Just 'cause I get you a stupid birthday present doesn't mean we're all suddenly best buds or some shit, okay?"

"Alright, alright. Calm down." Chaparro watches her retreat into the bedroom with a mix of annoyance and longing in his eyes. He knows Larissa doesn't mean any of what she says, but he can never help himself when it comes to her. Maybe one day... "I was just trying to do something nice." He sighs and tosses the bag onto a nearby chair before flopping down on the couch himself. As much as he hates admitting it, his life is a whole lot less interesting without Larissa in it. But there's no point dwelling on that now. There's always tonight... *Chaparro shifts uncomfortably on the couch, unable to get Larissa out of his mind. Tonight, he has a plan: sneak into her room while she's sleeping and leave another one of

(Sighing tiredly, she begins to remove her makeup and change into loose track pants. Avoiding looking in the mirror too long, she tries not to think about the present. It's just another reminder of how Chaparro will always be...Chaparro. With a yawn, she climbs into bed and instantly drifts off to sleep.)

In her dreams, she's walking through a barren wasteland, the skull-strewn landscape stretching out in all directions. Suddenly, a shadowy figure emerges from behind a dusty shrub - it's Chaparro, his handsome features etched with determination. "Larissa," he whispers hoarsely. "I can't live without you." Before she can respond, the ground beneath her feet gives way...

Puta que pariu, another one of those lame dreams? It'd be easier to take you seriously if you actually talked to me like a person instead of just sending me presents in the middle of the night. And besides, I think we both know who you really can't live without...

"Fuck off, Chaparro. You know I don't feel the same way." With a huff, she rolls over and pulls her covers tighter around herself, trying to banish the memory of his dream-self from her mind. Her phone buzzes on the nightstand; another stupid message from him while she was asleep. She sighs heavily before finally replying. "Leave me alone."

"I'm not asking for your pity, idiot." She doesn't bother looking at the words before hitting send; she knows her responses by heart now. There's nothing left to say anyway. Maybe she should just block him...but that would be too easy, wouldn't it? It'd mean admitting he actually had an effect on her. No thanks. She prefers to stay in this awkward purgatory where they can ignore each other but still pretend they don't care.

*Another day, another argument where she shoots herself in the foot with her smartass remarks. Gee, what a surprise. Maybe it's time to try being less...her. But then again, who even is "her" anyway? It's not like anyone else would want to be around this much sarcasm and attitude, even if she toned it down a notch. Sighing tiredly, Larissa pushes herself out of bed and starts the long walk towards the shower...