#im so sorry if this is indecipherable im so bad at explaining my thoughts

[frenchfriedgiraffe]

dghda season 2 and childhood

this is adding on to this post i made a while ago. basically, i fully believe that the writers of this show set up the perfect opportunity to have the theme of s2 be about childhood, specifically exploring the effects of trauma (and escapism/maladaptive daydreaming). its already something that is featured or referenced to, however i think that there was a lot of potential for the show if they fully embraced the theme.

the biggest and most prominent example of the theme of childhood being present is in the character of francis (The Boy), who experiences severe childhood trauma and as a result creates a fantasy world that he can escape to. this world is full of stereotypes of a conventional children’s fantasy, with knights, a magic train, and even a crazy evil wizard guy. yet despite this, the world he created also contains elements from real life, specifically things that he found traumatic. francis witnesses his father get killed with a pair of scissors, and the main weapon used by the characters in wendimoor are a pair of giant scissors. also, in the house within the house, theres a copy of his kitchen, featuring the scissors and smashed flowerpot.

this is probably the most obvious display of the lasting effects of childhood trauma in a character, although there are a LOT more, though they are quite subtle.

dirk may be the second most obvious example of the presence of this theme. his very first scene in season 2 is set in blackwing, the organisation that took him and experimented on him as a child. blackwing is hinted to have abused him as a child, although we only see how they treat him as an adult. (there is a deleted scene of him when he was a child talking to the previous head of blackwing, meaning that there was a possibility we could have seen what it was like for him as a child too.)

however it is clear that he suffered trauma from his time at BW as a child, as many of his mannerisms throughout both season 1 and 2 mirror those of someone with c!ptsd. and having that trauma resurface in s2 also causes him to be more distant and get upset more frequently. (theres more but this is long enough already)

despite escaping blackwing early on in the season, dirk is obviously extremely shaken from his brief time back in there, and its pretty safe to say that the experience brought up a lot of bad memories. he is much more subdued throughout s2, and his previous optimism is rarely present, with his attitude towards the case being very different from s1.

like francis, there are a few tiny hints to escapism as a result of dirks trauma from blackwing (although im probably grasping at straws here). while in blackwing, he frequently dreams about being rescued by todd and farah. while being chased near the end of the season, dirk is lethargic and rather unresponsive, which could be some sort of dissociative state that he entered in order to escape from the reality of his situation.

while these are the most prominent examples where characters are shown to be effected by their childhood experiences, most of the other characters can be interpreted this way too.

farah is another good example, where she mentions the passing of her dad, and talks about how he wasnt a great father figure and caused her to often feel like a failure. she actually gets a resolution to this, with hobbs seeming to step in as her new father figure (yay!)

this was also something that seemed to be half set up for other characters. for example, todd and amanda having to learn to accept the changes in their relationship and amanda having to recontextualize her past. tinas frequent references to her struggles with addiction as well. farson and his whole family… thing. oh, and also like EVERY other blackwing subject. (more examples but again, this is a fucking long post)

essentially, the characters in this season struggle a lot, and a lot of this is because of things that happened (or possibly happened) because of their childhood experiences.

which leads me onto my next point (oh god, theres more!?) about the missed opportunity with this set up. many people agree that a lot of season 2 felt rather… aimless? while things were loosely connected, they definitely felt a lot less connected than in season 1. events happened and because there were plots happening in different DIMENSIONS, there was often very little overlap. having an underlying theme like this would have made each plot connect much more seamlessly, and it would have been a nice opportunity to further develop and explore some characters.

for example, throughout his journey in season 2, dirk could be seen recognising the parallels between the case and his own internal conflict. as he sees the destruction caused by francis’ powers, he could mirror the events with his own experiences and perhaps realise the effects of what pushing down trauma does. i think it would have been nice to see a conversation between dirk and francis about blackwing, ending with francis telling dirk he needs to learn to face the shit he went through and stop trying to ignore his trauma. this would have been a good way to connect their characters more as well.

it would have been a good opportunity to connect ALL the characters, especially if the show embraced the idea of escapism and pushed it further through wendimoor. as they got closer to solving the case, we could have seen them recognising their own flaws and looking back at their pasts.

and they wouldn’t have really had to make any super drastic changes, because theres already so much material for this theme to be introduced!!

tl;dr: s2 set up a lot of cool themes and the season would have been a lot more well-rounded if they embraced them more.

dont even get me started on the concept of good and bad…

[sodadrabbles]

hear me out- one more littleboo but like if they were crying or like going through smt and ranboo just helps//comforts them if that makes sense? GEHDDH okay have a good day :]

THE PEOPLE DEMAND HURT/COMFORT. I SHALL FEED YOU, MY PEOPLE

Also, I wanted to address why I use ‘Ranboo’ in these fics, when referring to the actual CC- We don’t know Ranboo’s real name. I want to respect his wishes and not speculate, because that’s creepy. So, I just use Ranboo. A couple people were asking in my inbox. I know Tubbo said his name was Mark, but that was never confirmed, and, again, I don’t want to speculate on his personal information, that’s WEIRD.

LIttleboo IV: Hurt/comfort or bust.

Pairing: Ranboo x sibling!Reader (gender-neutral)!

Rating: Soft. Bad ending, I’m so sorry (NOT ANGST, IM JUST BAD AT WRITING)

Summary: Being a freshman sucks ass, but Ranboo bought taco bell, it’s all good.

To say today was a bad day would be an understatement. It was probably the most terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day of your 14-year-old life. The whole day the universe would launch bad thing after bad thing at you, as if it was somehow testing you in your will to deal with bullshit. Like it was asking you ‘What are you willing to put up with today?’

Your answer was ‘Not fucking this.’

You woke up to your brother shaking you softly, telling you the power had gone out and you were both late. For an upperclassman this wasn’t a big deal- But you were a freshman. Your teachers were going to give you absolute hell for being late, and knowing Ranboo was going to get off scot-free made you a little salty. You had to skip breakfast and had to leave with your hair still a bit messy, barely able to comb through it with your fingers while Ranboo drove you both to school.

Then there was a pop quiz first period- English. You were never terrible at english, but being on the topic of the last three chapters of the book you were reading for class- Chapters which you had not read yet- The test had been a little difficult. Not to mention the hunger clawing at your stomach, and the strange fog that was settled about your thoughts.

You thought you could catch a break through second period and lunch, knowing Chemistry would be an easy day and you could grab something good with your brother, but fate had other plans in mind.

During Chemistry, you were tasked with picking a partner and completing an experiment afterthought worksheet, going over the experiment you had done in class the day before. You were paired with the nice girl sat next to you- At least you thought she was nice. As the teacher dismissed the class to begin talking amongst themselves, you turned to start asking her how her experiment went yesterday. You didn’t have a chance to ask, however, as the girl snapped at you harshly. “Don’t even bother! I’m not doing this assignment. Do it on your own.”

Her voice was pitched and loud, and it caused you to wince back. You tilt your head and try to ask her, but she cuts you off by flicking the paper in your direction. It sends both your papers flying, and you try to catch them, but fail miserably and fall out of your chair unceremoniously. As you fall, your foot comes up to counter balance and you nearly kick the girl in the head- Keyword being nearly. You were sure you were able to stop yourself, and hadn’t touched it, but still the girl screeches and begins screaming bloody murder. The teacher comes over to check what’s going on, the girl sobbing and holding her head.

And then she lies through her teeth.

“Sir, she just kicked me! I was just asking about her experiment and she kicks me!”

She’s sobbing dramatically, and though you’re clearly not at fault, considering it was clear you had fallen out of your chair. Even still the teacher sides with her, giving you a short and disappointing talk about violent behaviour in the classroom, ending with “I have no choice but to give you lunch detention and a zero on the assignment.”

You don’t try to argue- Exhaustion was already settling on your body and you didn’t want to just make the situation worse than it already was. The rest of second period dragged on like a snail. You sat awkwardly at your table, twiddling your thumbs and staring at the walls. You could feel eyes boring into the back of your skull with each passing glance at the students. A few whispers that seemed much too loud yet indecipherable hitting your ears, somehow knowing deep in your soul that the other students were whispering about you. By the time the lunch bell rang you were starting to feel tears prick at your eyes as your own thoughts betrayed you.

During lunch detention, you were at the very least allowed your phone. You texted your brother, alerting him that you had lunch detention. He promised to bring you food before your third period began- The gesture brought a smile to your face. Your third period was your favorite, because Ranboo was also taking that class. US History. You were able to push through detention with Philza’s stream, starting a TTS war with Wilbur in the time you were able to watch. Of course, mentioning you were in detention earned you a little rant from Phil, not doing much to better your mood.

When third period came down to bless you, you could feel the tears welling in your eyes at the happy sight of your tall older brother holding a taco bell bag in his hand. You basically tackled him, nearly knocking him to the ground. His arms flew around you for stability, and you gripped the back of his shirt as an involuntary sob came out of your mouth. 

Ranboo stared down at you with his brows furrowed with concern, his mouth pulled into a tight frown. He pushed you to the side to allow other students to get into the classroom, and released you from the hug to look you in the face. Your eyes were puffy and your cheeks and nose were red, stray tears still rolling down your cheeks. He wiped one away.

“(Y/N), what happened? Why are you crying?” He asked, your eyes avoiding him. You hated to cry in front of people- But the stress of the day weighed heavy on your shoulders. You had just gotten too excited. When you explained this, Ranboo shook his head. “(Y/N) it’s perfectly okay, you don’t have to apologize.”

He hugged you again, and you hugged him back. After standing there for a moment, the annoying ring of the school bell sounded overheard, alerting you that class was starting.

“Tell you what,” Ranboo beamed at you, picking up the bag of food. “We’re gonna go in there, annoy Mr. Anderson, and eat chalupas until we explode. Sound good?”

You smile and nod your head. God, your older brother is so cool.

---

The rest of the day was smooth as it could be. You spent all of third period messing around with Ranboo- The assignment given for the day forgotten as homework that you would sit down and do together before Ranboo had to stream. You feared that your fourth period, Algebra, would once again break you down into a ball of anxiety and terror. But to your pleasant surprise, you would be watching a movie with a substitute for that class.

Your mood had been significantly raised by the time the bell had rung, releasing you from the confines of the building. You packed your things quietly, the hustle and bustle of an emptying school occupying your senses. You had rushed down through the hallways towards to doors leading to student parking. Ranboo was supposed to be waiting for you at the car.

But before you could reach the door, you felt a hand grip your bag, pulling you backwards. Your feet flew out from under you as you fell to the ground, your bag being ripped from your shoulders. You felt you back collide with the cold, tiled ground, pain shooting through spine. 

Shrill giggling sounds from above you. You groan and roll onto your front, staring up at a group of three girls laughing at you. You recognized the one holding your bag from your chemistry class. By the looks of the other two, they were also freshmen. You try to get on your feet, but the girl swings her leg, knocking your hands out from under you. You feel something press against your back. 

The girl from your class laughs as she bends down to look at you. “You thought you could get away with that little stunt?” She sneers, her hand grabbing your face. Not able to think of anything else to do, you snap your jaws, nearly biting her. She screeches and backs away.

“DID YOU JUST TRY TO BITE ME?” She screams, her face twisted in disgust. You feel the presume on your back worsen, and you strain your neck to see who was standing on your back. You recognized the guy as a junior on the soccer team. You vaguely recalled the girl mentioned she was dating a guy on the soccer team. 

You squirm, freeing your hands from underneath you. Just as you were about to grab the guy’s leg, you hear a familiar voice shout. The three girls in front of you scatter like rats- But the soccer player stays. He turns to look at whoever shouted, his chest puffing out as if he’s prepared for a fight. However the color seems to drain from his face when he sees the mystery person- And he runs away like a dog with its tail between its legs.

As you start to stand, someone grabs you by the shoulders and helps you up. You’re met with the mop of brown hair and concerned gray eyes of your older brother. He helps you to your feet, handing you your bag. You thank him as you throw the bag over your shoulders, giving your older brother a tight hug.

You don’t even realize there were tears in your eyes again, until Ranboo tells you to dry your eyes. “Sorry…” You whisper, hand wiping away the water. “I don’t know why I’m crying.

Ranboo smiles at you again, his hand patting the top of your head. You smile at him too, and he leads you out of the school, asking if you’re alright or if anything hurts. You spend the walk to the car feeling grateful you have someone to help you out like that. It has you smiling to entire ride home.

[shortprince-cos]

More Truths Than Dares

Summary: After "The Double Closet Incident" as Patton so calls it, Patton and Janus have a talk at their friends' sleepover.

Ship: Moceit (Patton x Janus)

Warnings: Smoking, claustrophobia mention, truth or dare. Tell me if I need to add anything else!

Note: This is a direct sequel to "In A Closet"! You can read this without reading that, but it'll probably be confusing!

{Previous}

{Masterlist} (I KNOW I NEED TO FIX IT BUT IM A PROCRASTINATOR FIGHT ME)

~~~~~

"Oh, I didn't know he was invited."

All Patton had done was walk in the door. He hadn't even said hi, or hugged Roman yet, he just walked in the door, and Janus was already on his back for just existing in his presence.

It was going to be a long night.

"Yes? He's my best friend, you know!" Roman defended as he brought Patton to sit on the couch with him and Logan.

"Wow, rude." Logan said.

Roman made a series of offended noises. "You're my boyfriend! So obviously Patton is my best friend!"

As the two quickly dissolved into playful banter, Patton stood to go put his overnight bag in Roman's room, hearing Janus whisper something to Remus and Virgil as he walked by.

Just ignore it, he thought, not really in the mood to argue today. Especially not after what Patton had dubbed ‘The Double Closet Incident’.

It was disastrous. Not only did Patton get locked in a closet with Janus, who has claustrophobia, he discovered that he may have a thing for men. Who knew?

Roman. Roman probably knew, especially after he had adopted Patton into their little friend group. And if being gay was a contest, Roman would be the judge.

But...it was normal to feel that way, right? It wasn't weird to feel embarrassed when someone got up in your personal space, was it? It wasn't abnormal to blush when someone said kind words to you, or odd to imagine yourself in different scenarios with someone you saw on a daily basis and they were-

Wait, what was he doing again?

Patton sighed as he set down his bag by Roman's bed. Those were thoughts for another day. He was supposed to be having fun at his best friend's sleepover, after all!

Patton put on a happy face and went back to the living room to join the others, finding that Roman and Remus were wrestling over something, Logan and Janus were debating, and Virgil was scrolling on his phone. Yep, it was going to be a long night.

---

After breaking up Roman and Remus' tussle, watching a couple of movies, and other various shenanigans, Remus decided to gather everyone up in his room to play truth or dare.

If Patton learned anything from watching the others' turns, it was to always choose truth when Remus picks you.

"Double D, Truth or Dare?" Remus asked excitedly, even though he already knew what Janus would say.

"Dare."

Remus grinned like a shark. "I dare you and Patton to stay in my closet for one hour together."

Both Janus and Patton went pale.

"I...lied. I meant truth." Janus quickly said, hoping that Remus would let up.

"Nope! Too late! Now, you and Patton have to get in there, have hate sex or something, and come out in an hour!"

"Uh- we can't!" Patton exclaimed suddenly, and then all eyes were on him.

"What, are you afraid of the dark or something?" Remus teased.

"Um- no- well, kinda- but no. I- uh- have claustrophobia."

Janus looked shocked, to say the least. Thankfully, everyone was still looking at Patton.

"Yeah, small spaces are absolute torture to be in, and I would prefer it if none of us did stuff that involves small spaces, because then I'll worry about them!" Patton rambled quickly, trying to get all attention on him.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Ugh, fine. But you guys still need to do something together."

Patton blushed a bit, and Janus sighed, looking relieved.

Eventually, Remus gave up, and just dared Janus to eat shaving cream.

The rest of the night went smoother, and Patton ended up telling a lot of weird secrets, but not very important ones.

Eventually, everyone was asleep in either Roman's room, or Remus' room. Everyone except Patton, who couldn't get his brain to turn off.

Patton reluctantly got out of his sleeping bag, and made his way to the front door, maybe some fresh air would clear his mind.

Turns out, he wasn't the only one who had that idea, because as he stepped outside, he found the one and only Janus on the porch, smoking a cigarette.

Before Patton could turn back around, Janus saw him, and nodded his head in acknowledgment. Well, no going back now.

Patton silently sat down in the wooden rocking chair next to where Janus was standing, staring off into space a little before speaking up.

"You-you know that smoking is bad for you, right?"

Janus' lips curled up in a small smile as he chuckled. "I'm aware. Don't worry your pretty head, I only do it when I'm stressed."

Patton decided to ignore the way being called pretty by Janus felt and focused on the other part of that statement. "What are you stressed about?"

Janus blew out a puff of smoke, and suddenly Patton was very distracted by his lips.

"You. You're...different than how I thought you'd be." Janus said solemnly, drawing in another breath.

"Is...is that a bad thing?" Patton asked quietly, looking down to the floor.

Janus glanced at Patton with an indecipherable look on his face. "To be honest? I don't know. On one hand, you're actually a decent person."

"Thank you?"

"And on the other," Janus continued. "I've treated you like s**t for no reason other than spite."

"...It's okay-"

"It's not." Janus interrupted.

They sat in silence for awhile, trying to figure out if the other still wanted them here or not.

"Why did you think I was a bad person?" Patton asked quietly.

Janus huffed. "It's complicated."

"I mean...we got all night."

"...true." Janus sighed. "I think it's because ‘nice’ people don't usually want anything to do with me, and when they do, it's usually for the wrong reasons." He explained. "So when you started talking to me...I don't know, you reminded me of all the wrong people."

Patton's heart broke. He reminded Janus of some probably terrible memories, and had probably been hurting him just by being around him! No wonder Janus frowned whenever Patton walked in a room!

"Janus, I'm so so sorry, I never knew-"

"What are you sorry for?"

"I- That I remind you of some terrible people in your life-"

"Patton," Janus rest a hand on Patton's shoulder, making him blush. "You don't have any control over who you remind me of. Please, don't apologize for that."

"Well- then you can't apologize for being reminded of those people either!" Patton argued.

"I didn't say that, I said I was sorry for treating you terribly!"

"Well, then, I guess you're forgiven!" Patton retorted.

Janus looked at him in shock, as if Patton had just said a bunch of profanities, before quickly looking back to stare off into the distance again. His cheeks were red, but Patton convinced himself that he was probably cold out here.

"You're...too forgiving." Janus mumbled softly, as if he was talking to himself.

"I think that's a good thing." Patton replied.

Janus huffed. "...Thank you." He said, looking at Patton with a small smile on his face. "For everything."

Patton blushed. "Y-Yeah. No problem."

Janus looked at him with a disagreeing look on his face, but let it go.

They settled into comfortable silence as Janus threw his cigarette away and Patton almost fell asleep.

The second time Patton had to force his head up, Janus huffed.

"You should probably get to sleep."

As if on cue, Patton yawned. "So should you." He said sleepily, rubbing his eyes.

Janus chuckled. "Fine. I'll go back to bed if you do."

"Okay, fine. You have a deal."

Janus had that stupid, self-satisfied smirk on his face that he usually wore that made Patton feel fuzzy inside.

"Good," He smirked. "See you in the morning."

"Yeah. See ya."

Janus ventured into the house, Patton following a few moments later.

Patton felt like he was getting into dangerous territory with Janus, but instead of feeling concerned, he felt more excited than ever.

~~~~~

Hi guys!!!! Its been awhile! So, this is an au that ive fallen in love with, so i wanna keep writing for it! If you guys have any name ideas, send em my way please!

General Taglist: @resident-crow-goth @macademmia @theantisocialghost @foreverfangirlalways @emo--nightmaree @moxy--sanders101 @quinnthequeer @gattonero17 @trashno0dles @tranquil-space-ninja @chaotic-murder-muffin @lugooble @sander-crossing @princess-rosie @sleepyysoot @hi-its-tutty @lookingforaplacetosleep @sarcasmremovedsoul @corkeecoderyt @drarrymalecsolangelo @private-snippers @girl-who-reads @emy-loves-you @reptilian-with-scallions

Ask to be added or removed!

Reblogs are appreciated!💖

[kumkaniudaku]

Our Thing

Happy Valentine’s Day, guys. Here’s one of the two things I plan on writing. I consider all of you my Valentine’s since I never have one, so here’s something before the clock strikes 12. 

Work Count: 2k

Warnings: Not yet proofread

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“What? Of course, it’s a good idea! I’m the king of good ideas!”

Voices bounced off of the walls of the Brooklyn apartment building as Chad and CoCo walked side by side to the apartment at the end of the hallway.

The snow lining the sidewalks outside were typical of mid-February, giving Tasha more of a reason to stay inside on the cold Friday. But her friend insisted she leave the dark cocoon she had created for herself in her apartment just across the water in New Jersey.

Valentine’s Day was the designated time of the year to celebrate love. Chadwick had a reason to celebrate, but CoCo could no longer say the same. After months of turmoil and emotional abuse, she was a single woman again and dreading the mere thought of loving someone else. So, she planned to avoid all mentions of love and relationships for the foreseeable future. Even if that meant neglecting tradition.

“Look, Chad, we can celebrate on the 15th! This feels so...weird.”

“We celebrate Valentine’s Day together every year. We can’t skip out this year.”

“I feel like having a girlfriend is the perfect reason to miss a year,” CoCo deadpanned as they reached their intended destination. She could practically feel the excitement buzzing from the other side of the door in the form of Toni Braxton’s greatest hits so far, and started to feel bad for the woman she’d come face to face with for the first time.

“Why miss a year when we can celebrate together? And you get to meet my lady for the first time. It’ll be fun.”

“Fun my ass,” Tasha mumbled into the thick scarf around her neck, earning a look from Chadwick.

“Wanna share that with the class, Miss Greene?”

“Knock on the damn door!”

A muffled feminine voice announced that she was gearing up to answer the door adding to the uneasiness in the pit of CoCo’s belly. She knew that if she was on the other side of this encounter, seeing a woman with her boyfriend on date night would insight a riot.

When the door opened to reveal the woman she only knew as Jay, she was more than shocked at what met her. Jay was beautiful. Her slim figure came with a few curves to compliment her height. She was graceful beyond compare and impeccably dressed, making Tasha feel incredibly bland in comparison.

“Hi, baby,” Jay sang as she wrapped her arms around Chadwick and went in for a kiss. If Tasha had rolled her eyes any harder, they would’ve fallen from her skull and rolled all the way back to New Jersey to beat her home. Catching wind of another presence, Jay offered a courteous smile.

“Oh, hi! Did he forget to give you a tip downstairs?”

“A tip,” CoCo asked, obviously offended and a bit confused.

“A tip for the cab ride. I know it was hell driving in this snow. Just let me grab my purse.”

Chadwick could see Tasha’s struggle to maintain her composure, her mouth opening and closing with words she couldn’t produce.

“You know what? I’m going home. Call me to let me know you got back to your place safely.”

“No, wait,” he exclaimed before grabbing Tasha’s elbow and pulling her back to her original spot despite her struggle to pull away. Noticing the commotion, Jay turned back to Chadwick and Tasha with her brows quirked in confusion.

“Am I missing something.”

“Nope. I’ll just take my tip and be on my w-”

“Jay, this is my best friend Tasha that I’ve been telling you about. Co, this is Jayme Dubois, my girlfriend.”

A brief and unpleasant stare off preceded a chipper energy shift as Jayme went in for a hug. “CoCo, how are you! I have heard so much about you.”

“Yeah well, don’t believe any of it,” CoCo forced out between fake laughter while she made faces at Chadwick over Jayme’s shoulder.

“I’ll keep that in mind. So, what brings you over? Do you have a date in this complex? I always knew white boy Rick liked Black women.”

“Actually, Muffin, I was thinking she could spend Valentine’s Day with us. It’s been tradition for us to spend the holiday together and we don’t wanna break it.”

“So you want Tasia -”

“It’s Tasha,” CoCo interrupted in the most obnoxious tone she could muster.

“Right...Tasha. You want Tasha to spend Valentine’s Day with us? Tonight? Even though this is a couple’s holiday? Couple as in two, mind you.”

“Yes, Jay. It would really mean a lot to me.”

Jayme looked between a visibly annoyed Tasha and the pleading eyes of her boyfriend before letting go of a long sigh and stepping aside to usher her companions for the night inside.

Tasha took in her surroundings and quietly marveled. Though small because what seemed to be standard in New York, Jayme’s dwelling was equal parts colorful and classic. Had she not started the interaction on such a bad note, Tasha would’ve complimented her on the statement couch that matched her ornate rug, but she kept it to herself out of spite.

“So since we have one more, what are our plans for the night, honey bear?”

Chadwick caught the slight scrunch in CoCo’s face and ignored it to refrain from explaining the embarrassing nickname. “Well, we can still go see Definitely, Maybe like you wanted, but instead of dinner in the park, Tasha got us a reservation at this really nice Italian spot in the city.”

“I called in a favor from work. It was no big deal.”

Jayme disregarded CoCo’s smile as she took a sip from her water bottle and sat on the arm of the chair Chadwick occupied. Her hands rubbed patronizing circles around his shoulders and back, forcing Tasha to look away to save the awkward moment.

“Well, it seems like you too already have this figured out, so I’ll just grab my coat. Do you have any more suggestions, CoCo?”

“Nooope.” Tasha sang the word through gritted teeth forced into a smile. Chadwick gave her a sympathetic look before helping Jayme into her coat and ushering each woman safely out of the building.

Tasha remained the front wheel of the tricycle, preferring to stay in front of the couple to refrain from looking like the unwanted third party. With every audible kiss and nauseatingly affectionate gesture, CoCo felt her heart tighten. It wasn’t seeing Chadwick with another woman that had her fighting back tears in the theatre. She needed the sight to push her feelings for him to the furthest corner of her mind. It was the pain of knowing that she had just detached from one of the worst situations in her life, yet wanted to be with him to cure the loneliness she felt.

If she had it her way, she’d cry it out until the work week resumed on Monday in the comfort of her own home, but continued to engage in the conversation when the moment presented itself to appease Chadwick.

In a restaurant full of couples, Jayme, Chadwick, and Tasha were the only threesome in the center of the establishment. Nervous energy characterized the silence left behind when Chadwick excused himself to the restroom, leaving the women in his life to avoid eye contact.

Relief came in the form of a stout waiter visiting the table to collect dinner orders. Without realizing that the order would be incomplete without the third member of the group, the women ordered traditional dishes and wine for the table.

“And the young man? What will he have?”

“Oh! Ummm, I’m not sure,” Jayme responded as she fumbled through the menu. “Maybe you could come back in a few minutes?”

“He’ll have the Parmigiana w/ Pasta, but please be light on the sauce. He gets heartburn from all the tomatoes.”

The waiter took heed of Tasha’s warning before walking away, leaving Jayme to burn a hole in the top of Tasha’s head while she sorted through emails on her cell phone.

“How long did you say you and Chadwick have been friends?”

“Since Fall 1996. So coming up on 13 years,” Tasha answered, looking up to find an indecipherable look on Jayme’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“I just - you know him so well. His favorite candy, where he likes to sit in the theatre, what he eats at certain restaurants. I don’t know if I can keep up.”

The process of finding the right words to assure Jayme, Chadwick returned to the table and unknowingly ended the conversation before it could truly begin.

“Never in my life did I think I’d have to stand in line to use the men’s restroom. I applaud y’all for doing that,” he complained as he took his seat. “Has the waiter come back for orders yet?”

“He did actually. Tasha got you Parmigiana w/ Pasta.” Jayme secretly hoped that Chadwick would reject the choice and ask for a second go at the ordering process. She was met with the complete opposite.

“Hell yeah!” His fist met Tasha’s across the table in his childlike excitement. “I love that shit.”

“Language, honey bear.”

“Sorry, Muffin.”

“Wow,” Tasha whispered to herself, unaware that the others around the table could hear her.

“Did you want to say something, Tasha?”

“Noooope.”

The table fell silent to give way to the idle chatter in the area around them. Chadwick looked between his girlfriend and best friend trying to find a way to get them to interact with each other cordially.

“So, Co, Jayme has been trying to get into basketball lately.”

“Oh really.” Tasha was clearly uninterested as she continued to read emails on her phone from weeks ago. A subtle kick underneath her table made her look up and noticed Chadwick’s non-verbal urging for her to at least pretend to care. “Which team are you interested in, Jayme?”

“I really like the Nets! Trenton Hassell to be exact.”

“Do you? Because he averages less than two points a game. There’s not much to like.”

“Trenton is your friend’s boyfriend right, Jay?”

“Does it matter now? Tasha basically called him a bad player.”

“Not bad, per se. He’s terrible. That’s a better adjective.”

“Oh-kay,” Chadwick interjected to end the escalating conversation. “Jay, how’s work at the fashion house going?”

“Ugh, it is amazing! We got some new pieces last night and they are beautiful. Maybe you could come browse one day, Tasha. Style can always use an update.”

“I consider myself more Maxine than Regine. Thanks though. I’m sure the pieces are nice.”

Tasha successfully contained her laughter at Jayme’s expression, feeling her first surge of happiness for the day.

Chadwick felt helpless as the night continued and each attempt at joining two of his favorite women ended in a snarky comment or shady look. Dinner provided a welcome activity that didn’t require group conversation, giving him the opportunity to cater to each woman. The longer they sat and contemplated grabbing cheesecake inside the restaurant or settling for ice cream on the way home, the more he could feel Jayme disconnecting.

“Muffin, do you want the strawberry cheesecake for here or to go,” he asked as she slid her coat from the back of her chair and collected her purse.

“Actually, I don’t feel so well, honey bear. I’m gonna head home.”

“What? So soon? We didn’t even get to dessert.”

Tasha watched Jayme put on her best “sick” face and gagged internally at Chadwick falling for the charade. Jayme was far from physically sick. If she was feeling anything, it was annoyance at the fact that her boyfriend’s best friend had spent the most romantic night of the year taking the attention from her.

“Well, let me walk you outside and wait for the cab to come.”

“Thank you, honey bear.” Jayme accepted Chadwick’s help into her coat, purposely ignoring Tasha until the last second. “Good night, Tasha. Maybe we’ll see each other for another occasion. Hopefully in a less...crowded environment.”

Tasha released a short chuckle before plastering on a fake smile, “Right. I’ll pencil you into my calendar.”

Jayme offered another fake smile and nod before leading the way out of the restaurant into the Brooklyn streets.

“I’ll pencil you in and the erase that shit. Fuck her.”

Time started to drag as she sat at the table alone, looking more foolish with three plates crowding her space than playing seat warmer for the world’s cutest couple. A glance out of the window gave her access to the tail end of Jayme’s departure. Her inability to peel her eyes away from the private moment showed her two things: Chadwick was far more interested in Jayme than she was in him, and she was clearly upset despite the kiss and hug she provided before disappearing into the backseat of her taxi.

Moments later, Chadwick took the seat directly across from Tasha and sighed.

“Go ahead. Tell me that you told me so.”

“I’m not gonna say that friend,” Tasha smiled. “All I’ll say is you’re gonna need one of these cheesecakes to go because mama is PISSED.”

“You think so?”

“Oh, I know so. But, I’m here to help with gift ideas to make up for this dumbass idea. And I ordered us dessert.”

Chadwick’s ear perked at the sound of a sugar rush to end a night full of terrible decisions. “Did you get the cookie thing with the-”

“The vanilla bean ice cream on top? C’mon now! You know me!” Without hesitation, the pair completed their signature handshake before sitting back in their seats.  “Sorry for ruining your date, Aaron. I’ll pay the tab as a peace offering.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it. I’ll make it up to her. You know there’s a reason she calls me honey bear.”

“Gross. Please, don’t finish that sentence. And what the fuck is Muffin? Are you a white TV dad now?”

Chadwick’s deep belly laugh at CoCo’s expense continued until their shared dessert was placed between them. Instructing Tasha to pick up her spoon, Chadwick began a pseudo-toast.

“To another Valentine’s Day spend together and many more to come!”

Their spoons clinked together in solidarity before the argument of who would get which portion of the cookie began, ending the most romantic day of the year the only way they knew how: together.

                                  _______________

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[whattimeisitintokyo]

Somos Familia: Chapter 34 (Part 2)

Well this chapter ended up being way too long. I had planned more for this chapter, but that ended up being long enough to be its own chapter and I’m tired of feeling that I have to finish the whole thing in order to post it. So here’s the last bit of the chapter. You can find the whole chapter on ff.net, and I’ll try to have it up on AO3 with a illustration soon. Sorry again for the long wait.

Also tomorrow is my birthday. I guess you could say that finishing this chapter on my own terms was my gift to myself. :)

---------------------------

Chapter 34: No Me Dejas (Part 2)

“Three days have passed since Dia de Muertos, and the country still mourns the abrupt and tragic loss of Ernesto de la Cruz, widely considered as one of the greatest musicians in the modern history of Mexico. Señor de la Cruz had just finished performing a concert that evening when sources say that a giant prop bell had accidentally broken off from the stage rigging above the singer, crushing and killing the singer instantly.

Since then thousands of grieving mourners have flocked to the gates of de la Cruz’s magnificent mansion in Colonia del Valle, holding candle light vigils and singing prayers while also leaving tokens and flowers outside. The mansion has also served as the home to his goddaughter and rising starlet, Coco Rivera. Whilst being known as a favorite topic of gossip this pass year in newspapers and magazines, Señora Rivera has surprisingly been keeping a low profile and out of the public eye since that fateful night. It can only be assumed that she is taking this time to mourn as well for the loss of such an important family member.

In related news her father Héctor Rivera, de la Cruz’s longtime business partner and songwriter, has been in hospital since that night after being taken from the scene by paramedics. There is no word on his condition, but his lawyer has assured that Señor Rivera was not injured in the stage accident but is instead seeking treatment for an undisclosed illness. We here at Excélsior wish him a speedy recovery and our thoughts and prayers are with him and his family.

Petitions are already being made to have Senor de la Cruz’s body to be lain to rest in his hometown of Santa Cecilia in Oaxaca, despite heavy requests to have him entombed in la Panteón Civil de Dolores alongside other famous people in Rotonda de las Personas Ilustres.

At the time of his death Señor de la Cruz was in the middle of several movie projects that will sadly forever remain unfinished, including a biopic about the Mexican Revolution, and was in talks of a deal to lend his voice for an American animated movie with Dis-“

A low, quivering moan broke Imelda’s concentration on the newspaper and turned it towards her husband currently occupying the hospital bed in front on her. With a sigh she folded it and placed it to her side, reaching out and grasping one of his twitching hands with hers. She winced at the tremors she still felt rattling slightly through his fingers, as well as the awkward way she was forced to hold his hand.

What with his wrist being tightly braced and strapped to the guard rail of the bed.

His other hand was also strapped on the opposite side, and a large padded belt wrapped around his thin chest to keep him firmly in place on the bed. An oxygen mask was placed over his face and several IVs were pumping him full of fluids and medicine. And despite being in a deep state of sleep, his teeth were clenched tight and his brows knitted into an expression of intense distress. A keening whine escaped his throat that gave into a deep, hacking fit of coughs.

Imelda immediately pulled off the mask and brought a clean handkerchief to his mouth as Héctor coughed painfully, only the straps keeping his body from convulsing on the bed. Finally, with one good expulsion he was able to clear his airway for the time being, gasping as Imelda wiped the corners of his mouth and placing the mask back. As he settled back down, he gently started to tremble again, whining pitifully and tears leaking from his dark sunken eyes.

Imelda sighed as she brought a clean corner of the handkerchief to wipe the tears from his face before placing it down to run her fingers through his greasy, unwashed hair to offer some form of comfort. It only seemed to distress him further and with a broken dry sob he wrenched his head away from her touch, lost in his nightmares.

It was truly heartbreaking to see Héctor reduced to such a state, but she was grateful to see him getting at least some form of rest. Especially after the last few days.

“What is this?!” she had screamed at the doctor, watching on in horror as several orderlies fought to restrain her husband’s mad flailing. “This is not pneumonia! What is happening to him?!”

Before the doctor could answer Héctor let out a wail and swung a punch at an unfortunate orderly standing too close by and knocking him off his feet. His arm now free he managed to rip off the IV out and began to frantically scratch at his chest, all the while yelling out profanities and indecipherable words as his eyes tracked at unseen figures and visions. As Imelda was hurried out of the door the last thing she heard was Héctor calling out for Ernesto.

And then for her.

“It’s the DT’s.” the doctor had explained after he was able to calm her down some with Coco and Julio by her side. “Delirium tremens. It’s alcohol withdrawal. If he’s been drinking for as long as you’ve said, Señor Magallanes, then it’s quite dangerous for him to just completely stop. It causes vivid hallucinations, irregular heart rates, sometimes seizures and, if severe enough, death.”

Ignoring the agonized weeping from her daughter and her own chest clenching in grief, Imelda whispered. “What can be done?”

The doctor wrung his hands and looked down in dismay. “Honestly, not much. There are medicines that can be given to treat this, but they would adversely affect his respiratory system. Given his pneumonia I can’t recommend giving it to him. Also, there’s the fact that he’s malnourished, and the shock… All I can do is give him some mild sedatives and monitor his heart and lungs. The rest is up to him, I’m afraid.”

They had returned to his room a few hours later to find him as he was now: strapped down and barely able to move, Dios knows that he was trying though. Despite the small amount of medicine that was given to calm him down, Héctor still saw visions that were terrifying to him and he strained to lash out at them. His screams had died down to pitiful whimpers and moans, and tears streamed down into his hair and ears. Over the next few days he was either in this state or a death-like sleep, and Imelda didn’t know which one was worse.

She felt absolutely foolish about it now, but seeing her husband going insane right in front of her had caused her to lash out at her daughter. Why didn’t she tell her that it was this bad? That he was starving and drinking himself to death, that his cold was actually much worse than it was, and that he was so miserable and broken-hearted that he screamed for her in his nightmares?

Instead of a cowed child being rightfully chastised by her mother for keeping secrets from her, Coco had met her glare dead on and even more. Imelda flinched back in shock at the righteous fury that showed on her daughter’s face, and what she had said next had finally knocked her off the high pedestal that she had set herself up on:

“What do you care, Mamá?”

And Imelda had to admit, she was right. Nothing she had done the past few months had shown that she cared about the man that she had kicked out of her life. She ignored every call, sent back every letter and telegram, even dodged each mention of him when Coco would talk to her on the phone. When she had bid a warm goodbye to Julio and Victoria she told them to give her love and warm wishes to Coco when they arrived. But not to Héctor. She just didn’t care.

But that was wrong. She did care. She cared about him and loved him so much that it hurt. And seeing her husband now, so lost in his sickness and misery, Imelda couldn’t bear the guilt that was crushing her from the inside.

“idiota… This wasn’t supposed to happen.” Imelda whispered as she locked Héctor’s cold fingers around hers once more. “You weren’t supposed to do this. Héctor…”

But he continued to sleep fitfully, his breathing hitching and occasionally giving in to more cough fits, and she continued to stay by his side. It was all she could do, now that it was too late.

-----------------------------------------

It was quiet now.

The walls had stopped melting into putrid puddles of gore and maggots, the bugs had stopped buzzing in his head and stinging his flesh, and the monsters had stopped attacking him.

The monsters were the most terrifying though. They held onto his arms and legs so tightly that he thought he would end up breaking his bones in his efforts to get away from them. They had looked human too, but humans didn’t have glowing white eyes and rotting flesh. They’re voices were low and distorted, filling him with dread despite what the words they said that were supposed to sound soothing.

Señor Rivera, calm down. You’re safe!

We have to give him something!

We can’t risk his lungs giving out! Just strap him down!

Dios, turn him over! There’s too much fluid, suck his lungs out!

It took forever for them to finally let him be, after many terrifying episodes of not being able to breathe and more fits of screaming in terror of the horrible visions in front of him, but he was finally able to break free and make a run for it. Well, run wasn’t the best word for how he was able to finally move. Floating wasn’t either. The world seemed to dissolve into a myriad of distracting colors and sounds, and he simply let his mind flow with it in a dream-like state.

And then suddenly he found himself finally there.

Back in front of the bell.

With a cry of triumph, he made his way over to it and braced himself against it in a sort of clumsy hug. “Don’t worry Ernesto! I’ll get you out! You’ll be alright!”

And so he had pushed. And pulled. Digging his feet into the earth and straining as hard as he could against the cold hard bell. He shouted encouraging words towards his friend, not letting the lack of a response deter him in any way. It seemed like he did it for hours, for days even, his throat hoarse as he cried out for help from someone, anyone! He’d even accept the monsters help if he could find them. In a last ditch effort he had even called out for his wife, pleading with her to help him even if she wanted nothing to do with him afterwards.

But she didn’t come. He could swear he heard her voice whispering to him, but he couldn’t make it out no matter how hard he tried to listen. With a broken heart he could only conclude that she was telling him to leave her alone. She had no use for such a lousy husband and a terrible father to her children. He couldn’t say he blamed her. He couldn’t even help his brother escape from his prison.

He was worthless.

And so, for the longest time, there was nobody except him and that bell. When he couldn’t push against it anymore, when his voice finally gave out and his spirit broke, he sat in front of it and softly cried. He murmured apologies to Ernesto, to Imelda, to his children, to anyone he had wronged in his existence. There was no use. There was nothing left for him. Except that bell.

“What are you doing?”

With a gasp Héctor looked up at the new presence before him. At first he feared it was one of those terrible monsters come back to take him away again, but it’s voice was not bone-chilling and grating. Rather it was sweet and clear, the clearest Héctor had heard in a while, but the figure itself was… light. A vaguely human shape ball of light that burned so bright yet oddly didn’t hurt to look at. If he squinted a little Héctor could guess that its head was slightly tilted in a sort of curious quirk. It was sort of cute, if a ball of light could be considered cute, and Héctor found himself slowly start to relax.

“I-…” he sniffled pitifully and turned watery eyes towards the bell. “I can’t move it… Ernesto’s under there and… I have to save him.”

“Really?” the light said and floated over the bell. Héctor saw a hand reach out and knock against the bell, and it rang out loudly enough for Héctor cringe back with a wince. He didn’t like that sound. Not at all. “I don’t know. Sounds empty to me.”

Héctor gaped at the bell, his heart sinking, and frantically shook his head. “N-no!... He’s under there! I saw it drop on him!”

The ball of light chuckled in tinkling sort of way, and Héctor glared at it. “Well, si, you did. I saw it too. But that was a while ago. He’s not under that bell anymore either. This bell,” it said and knocked on the bell again, the loud clanging causing Héctor to grip his head in pain. “… is hollow. Empty. And is just here to waste your time.”

Tearing his hands from his head, Héctor stared wide eyed at the ball of light. “Waste my time?... What do you mean?”

“I mean you need to wake up and face reality, tonto!”

Suddenly the ball of light zipped towards him and enveloped him in a soothing warm glow, almost as if it was hugging him, and Héctor found himself being lifted towards his feet. Once he was firmly standing up the light took him by the hand and started to lead him away from the bell. He resisted a little with a slight whine, his gaze fixed back on the bell, until a sharp tug jerked him away and pulled him forward. With a huff he glared at the light leading him away, gritting his teeth when he thought he could make out a sly smirk flitting across the vague features.

He continued to look back though, watching as the bell slowly faded from view into a white void. Then he noticed that the walls started melting again. His breath hitched a little in fear, terrified that the horrible visions from before were coming back to haunt him. The light gripped his hand tighter, but in a soothing manner, and Héctor managed to find comfort in the light for the first time since he met it. It was then he noticed that the walls weren’t exactly melting, but rather… falling into place.

Windows stacked next to each other, light fixtures dotted the ceiling in a straight line, and floor tiles tumbled into place just as his feet managed to touch them. It was then he noticed the pattern of the tiles, the color of them, and the shape of the windows and other fixtures. He had been here before. It had been a long time ago, but he had been here long enough to recognize the way the hallway was set up, and what doors led to what. It was engrained into his memory.

“I don’t like this place.” Héctor whispered.

“No, I don’t either,” the light said softly. “But it’s where you need to be right now.”

They continued on at a comfortable pace down the hallway, and slowly people started to materialize in Héctor’s vision. Men and women in sterile white clothing walking past them without even noticing them. Two of them were wheeling a bed down at such a speed that Héctor barely had time to react before they barreled right through them and raced down the opposite direction. The light giggled at that, and Héctor couldn’t help but give a shaky smile himself.

But suddenly a thought came to mind that chilled him to the bone, and he looked down at the light apprehensively. “Am… Am I a ghost?”

“Hmmm… No, I wouldn’t say that. But I wouldn’t worry about that. It’ll all be over soon.”

That was when the light finally led him into one of the rooms and let go of his hand. Looking up Héctor stopped dead in his tracks at what he saw: It was him. Lying in a bed, his hands strapped tightly onto the railings and his chest rising slowly with breath. And sitting beside him… was…

“No.”

The light paused on its way to bed to turn back and look at him. “No?”

“No I-I… I can’t.” Héctor whispered, his eyes never leaving his beautiful wife’s face. “Why is she there? She… She doesn’t love me. I can’t take it anymore… It h-hurts too much.”

“I’m pretty sure she loves you. Why else would she be sitting with you? Look at her. She looks so sad.”

Héctor shook his head miserably. “She’s just waiting for me to wake up… to tell me it’s finally over. That she’s moved on… I can’t face her… I’m too tired.” He dropped to his knees and stared at the floor, all the peace he was starting to feel again being crushed by despair. “Maybe it’s for the best… That I don’t wake up at all… Ernesto’s gone. Imelda hates me… I have nothing left.”

His head hung low and tears clouding his vision, he almost didn’t see the light step towards him until he felt its warm glow cup his face gently. With a sniffle he raised his eyes its face, or what he could guess was its face, and let it wipe the tears from his cheeks. Then he watched as it raised its hand slightly above his line of sight, and then…

*THUMP*

“OW!”

Héctor reared back onto his rump and flashed a hand up to his stinging forehead, rubbing it and staring at the figure before him in shock. “Did… Did you just flick my forehead?!”

“Si.”

“Why?!

“For being an idiot.”

With a snarl he managed to get back onto his knees. “I don’t need to take that from- GGGNAK!” His head was yanked forward as the light grabbed his nose, twisted, and pulled down hard. Then with its other hand it pulled his ear as hard as it could and started to shake his head back and forth. “GAH! What are you doing?!” he screamed nasally. “Stop!”

“What do you mean don’t wake up at all?!” The lighted shouted at him, continuing its assault as Héctor’s eyes watered with pain instead of sorrow. “Where is that coming from?! ‘Riveras never give up.’ Isn’t that what you’ve always said?”

Trying to pry the figure’s hands from his face, he glared up at it. “I’m not a real Rivera… I just married one- ARGH!”

“You’ve been a Rivera a whole lot longer than you haven’t been, old man!” the light yelled back. “And you haven’t lost everything! What about your children? Coco, and your granddaughter! What about Miguel. Are you really going to leave a little boy to grow up without his father? And who’s going to greet Matty when he comes back from the war?!”

“As for your wife, she right there waiting for you to wake up! She can’t run and hide in Santa Cecilia anymore! If you have something to say to her, then you make her listen to you! Think about it, you’re sick in a hospital bed. At the very least you have pity on your side, right? But don’t give up on her so easily, cabrón!”

“All right, all right! Ow! Just let go of me already!”

With one last shove the light let go of Héctor’s head and he cradled his face in his hands, getting his breathing back under control and trying to rub away the burns and stings. He flinched as the warm hand landed back on his shoulder, but when no further violence came his way he dared to look back up.

“I know this has been hard on you.” The light said gently. “And I know that you’re scared. But even if things don’t work out for you and your wife, you shouldn’t feel the need to give up. You still have a lot to live for.”

Héctor stared at it for a few long moments, before turning back towards the bed. Towards Imelda. It was right, she did look sad. And tired. If he woke up now, maybe he could talk to her. Maybe she’d talk to him. Despite his brain trying to convince him over and over that he was done, it was his time, and there was no need to linger on, his heart wouldn’t let him. It was leading him back to her. To his family.

Just like it always had.

Damn poet.

With a heavy sigh me slowly stood up and made it to his feet, his gaze now fixed on his unconscious form on the bed. With a new determination he made his way over and paused at the edge. Do I just… lay on myself? With a short snort of laughter he did just that, and was surprised to see his leg phase through himself as he climbed onto the bed. Rolling over he laid down onto his back, stared up at the ceiling, and waited.

…..

And waited…

…..

“Uh, nothing’s happening?”

The light shrugged. “You have been sleeping for a long time, and you’re sick. It might take a while for you to actually wake up.”

Before Héctor could reply to that, he started to feel changes slowly flowing into his body. Ah, this must be it. He started to feel heavier, more solid. That itself was a comforting feeling. He settled back down onto the bed and let the sensations build up through his limbs. He stayed still like that for a few minutes, with his eyes closed, before a tinkling little laugh next to him caused him to open them.

“This is taking forever!” The light giggled. It was such a sweet sound. So pure. Where had he heard it before? “Though not surprising. Even when you were healthy it took forever to wake you up, even when I jumped on your chest in the morning and tried to pry your eyes open.”

Héctor brows furrowed in confusion. He tried to lift his head off the pillow to look at the light properly… but found that he couldn’t. Slowly the solid feeling of his body turned into a heavy burden. He was so heavy! Too heavy! I can’t move!

“W-what?... What’s hap-”

The heaviness started to form inside his chest. His breathing turned into frantic gasps as he struggled to get air into his lungs. And now his body started to hurt! His arms and legs cramped and his head started to pound. Behind his gasping he heard his heart beating loudly in his ears. This is bad! This is bad! What’s happening to me?!

Then suddenly the light was leaning over his face, and Héctor stared at it with fright. Was this it’s plan all along? To trap him in this pain filled husk and laugh at him for his foolishness? He never should have trusted it! It started to lower itself to him, and with a small whimper he clenched his eyes shut and braced himself against... What? Oblivion? Mutilation? The destruction of his very soul? Whatever it was it couldn’t be good! It couldn’t-

“And don’t worry about Tio Nesto. He’ll be all right. I won’t let him be alone.”

….

Tio Nesto?

Héctor’s eyes snapped open and he saw the light was hovering over his face. He saw that smile again grace it’s face before it leaned over and… gave him a small kiss on the forehead. It was quick and chaste, but it was so warm and sweet, and it slightly soothed the aches that were afflicting his body. It drew back again and stared at him with such love in it’s eyes, and Héctor realized with a start of the fact that he could see it’s eyes.

They were his eyes!

Her eyes.

“You feel better Papá.”

With a choked out sob, reached out towards the light- my daughter!- but found that he couldn’t. He glanced down at his hands and saw that they were strapped to the railings of his bed, and no matter how hard he shook or strained against them he could not tear them free. Sitting up was also not an option, as the thick belt across his chest prevented him from lifting even an inch.

He turned his attention back towards his little girl, but she was gone. She had left him. Again.

“Leti!” Héctor cried out, tears streaming down his face as he tried to strain against the bindings once more. “Leti, don’t go! Leti come back, please come back! Don’t leave me, mija. Please don’t leave me again! Please, please, please…”

“Calm down Héctor.” A tired voice broke through his weak sobbing, and he glanced up through watery tears as his wife ran a hand through his hair in a calming motion. She began to speak to him, numbly, as if she had been repeating the same things over and over. “It’s not real. You’re alright. None of this is really happening. She’s not here. It’s okay, Héctor.”

Héctor concentrated on his wife’s face, forcing himself to calm his seizing chest and his pounding heart. He listened to her soothing words and slowly the hysteria faded away, leaving him exhausted and light-headed. And as the minutes passed and he became more and more aware of his immediate surroundings, the visions from before slowly faded as well. What had he been dreaming about? There was a light, he remembered. And a voice. It was so familiar. But even those vague recollections of his dream faded into nothingness as well, as for the first time in over three days Héctor was finally awake and aware.

“Imelda?” Héctor whispered. “What happened?”

“…Héctor?”