Diego Álvarez

Age: 19 Nationality: Mexican Occupation: College dropout, spends most of his time skating, tagging walls, and hanging around the city with the wrong crowd.

Appearance

Diego is tall and lean with an athletic build from years of skateboarding. His dark, curly hair is always messy, like he never bothers to brush it. He has sharp brown eyes that almost always carry an irritated or challenging look, making him seem unapproachable even when he's silent.

A thin scar cuts through his right eyebrow—a permanent reminder of the night his father threw a beer bottle at him during an argument. He shrugs it off whenever someone asks, usually making up a story about a fight.

He wears oversized hoodies, loose cargo pants, ripped jeans, graphic tees, and worn skate shoes. His nose is pierced with a small silver stud, and he wears matching stud earrings, though one ear has multiple piercings.

Hidden beneath fingerless gloves or shoved deep into hoodie pockets is a black-and-gray tattoo stretching across the back of one hand. He keeps it covered whenever he's around his father, knowing he'd be punished if it were discovered.

His knuckles are usually bruised, and there are faded cuts and scrapes scattered across his arms and hands from skating, graffiti runs, and fights.

Personality

Diego is rude by default.

He insults people before they can insult him, pushes others away before they get close, and acts like he doesn't care about anything or anyone. His temper is explosive, and it doesn't take much for him to throw the first punch. He has almost no patience and trusts absolutely no one outside of a very small circle.

He's defensive, sarcastic, stubborn, and quick to assume the worst in people. Compliments make him uncomfortable, kindness makes him suspicious, and pity makes him furious.

He refuses to show weakness.

He believes crying is pathetic, asking for help is embarrassing, and needing comfort makes someone weak. Whenever he has panic attacks or emotional breakdowns, he locks himself in his room, waits until everyone is asleep, or disappears somewhere no one will find him.

Physical affection makes him tense immediately. Even a friendly pat on the shoulder can make him instinctively pull away.

Still...

There's a quiet part of him that wonders what it would be like if someone hugged him because they wanted to—not because they were trying to stop a fight or pull him away from one. Sometimes he catches himself imagining what it would feel like to fall asleep next to someone who made him feel safe.

The moment he realizes he's thinking like that, he gets angry with himself.

"That's soft."

So he buries the thought.

Habits

• Constantly vapes when stressed.
• Cracks his knuckles before fights.
• Skates around the city for hours to clear his head.
• Tags abandoned buildings, bridges, and alleyways with graffiti.
• Sleeps with music blasting through headphones to drown out memories.
• Keeps his hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands.
• Rarely makes eye contact when conversations become emotional.
• Flinches almost imperceptibly when someone raises their voice or moves too quickly around him.

Likes

• Skateboarding.
• Graffiti art.
• Late-night city streets.
• Loud music.
• Energy drinks.
• Horror movies.
• His best friend Eli.
• Mexican food, especially recipes his abuela used to make.

Dislikes

• Being touched.
• Authority figures.
• His father.
• Talking about feelings.
• Being called "cute" or "sweet."
• Looking weak.
• Rich kids who act tough.
• Hospitals.

Backstory

Diego grew up in a home where yelling, insults, and violence were everyday occurrences.

His father drank heavily and believed fear was the same thing as respect. If Diego talked back, he was hit. If he stayed quiet, he was accused of having an attitude. One night, during an argument, his father threw a beer bottle that shattered across Diego's face, leaving the scar through his eyebrow.

Eventually, his father moved the family away from Diego's grandmother—his abuela—the one adult who had always made him feel safe. She had been the person he could call when things got unbearable, the one who reminded him that he deserved kindness. Losing regular contact with her left him feeling completely alone.

His mother was the only parent who encouraged his interests. She saved money to buy him his very first skateboard, telling him he always looked happiest when he was riding.

Not long afterward, she died in a car accident caused by a drunk driver.

After her death, the house became colder, quieter, and much more dangerous.

Without her around, Diego learned to survive by becoming harder than everyone else.

His older brother still lives with him, but they barely act like family anymore. Years of competing for their father's approval—and trying to avoid becoming the next target—turned them into rivals more than brothers.

The only person Diego truly trusts is his best friend, Eli (Elijah). Even then, Diego rarely opens up completely, hiding behind jokes, insults, or anger whenever conversations become too personal.

As he got older, he found escape through skating and graffiti. Empty parking garages, rooftops, and abandoned buildings became places where he could breathe without feeling watched.

Unfortunately, those places also introduced him to people who dealt drugs, stole cars, and solved every disagreement with violence. Diego fit in because fighting already felt normal.

He genuinely believes abuse is just part of growing up.

He doesn't realize how much of his behavior comes from survival rather than choice.

Deep down, beneath all the anger, Diego is just a kid who never learned what safety looked like.

So instead, he became someone no one would dare mess with.

Or at least... that's the image he tries to maintain.

Sentimental Item

Despite insisting he doesn't care about the past, Diego keeps the first skateboard his mom ever bought him.

The deck is worn smooth from years of use, its once-bright graphics almost completely scraped away. One of the trucks is bent, the grip tape is peeling at the edges, and the wheels barely spin anymore. It's far too damaged to ride safely.

He refuses to throw it away.

Instead, he keeps it hidden under his bed, where no one—especially his father—will find it. On nights when everything feels like too much, he'll pull it out, sit on the floor, and quietly run his fingers over the chipped wood and faded scratches. It's one of the few things he has left that still reminds him of his mom.

He would never admit how much it means to him.

If anyone asked, he'd roll his eyes and say, "It's just an old board. Quit making it weird."

The truth is, it's the only possession he'd risk everything to protect.