Daybreak IC Inbox

[unpocoloco]

Héctor
UN: OLLIN

STATUS: Graduate Student / Teacher's Assistant

ACCOLADES: I write music, know how to play a few instruments, mostly la guitarra.

BIO: !Hola¡ Soy Héctor. Yo hablo español y un poco inglés. I've come to Daybreak to learn a little about all this magic stuff and help out around the Campus. If you need an odd job taken care of, I'm your guy! (Unless you are la policía. Or someone I have borrowed from. If that is the case, do not contact me, por favor.)

© TESSISAMESS

Comments

[unpocoloco]

He starts and blinks at her. "You- you are?! Really?!"

A pause follows, before he adds and points to himself. "To me...?" And then he quieter, "...Even though I'm dead?"

[no_dejare_de_quererte]

She gives him a look when he asks To me? as if to ask in return Who else? But that moment is short-lived because he raises a very good point.

There's a pause as she considers that, a frown slipping across her lips. But finally with no small amount of reluctance, she responds.

"Even... despite that, yes. We're still married. There's no reason that we wouldn't be."

[unpocoloco]

He continues to stare, wonder upon his face and a slight smile attempting to form.

"Oh. I thought maybe, you know, since the rules say no... but we're married," He breathes. He looks all to pleased, even looking away. "I'm the luckiest man in the whole world."

He's not, but he doesn't remember otherwise right now.

[no_dejare_de_quererte]

She sighs at that, a touch exacerbated. The luckiest man in the world? If you were, then you would have made it home alive, she thinks, but only to herself. It's too sobering of a thought. He looks happy, but she just feels tired.

"You're the silliest man in the world," she mutters instead, shifting to pull his arm over her shoulder a little more firmly. "What would you have done if I said that we weren't? Or if I found someone else?"

[unpocoloco]

He laughs but doesn't deny that. He's alright with being the silliest man in the world. His laugh becomes a contended noise as she pulls him in. And then a bit of a hissing breath as she asks that, but he keeps smiling.

"I would have... understood. That's what people do isn't it? Especially if you'd been told what happened to me, couldn't expect you to hang on to a ghost forever. You've got to live and move on and be happy. I'd hope they'd make you happy. Or that you were happy on your own. You deserve to be." He's losing his thought a bit, words slurring. He frowns in attempt to focus. And to push back any real sadness.

"I'd miss you. So much. All the time. But I could... be whatever you let me be to you. And co-parents. Coco would see you most of the time and in the night times I could visit. Whatever happened, I still got to be part of your lives. That's a lot to me."

[no_dejare_de_quererte]

It wasn't a question that she had meant to ask. They were obviously still married, and she'd never had a though of finding anyone else. She honestly expects him to simply say that he doesn't know--but once again, as always, he surprises her with his heartfelt honesty.

She's always known him to be someone that thought of others long before he thought of himself--or at least, that was the person that she thought he was. She's not so sure that she was wrong anymore. But in that moment, with him wishing so much for her and asking for so little, it touches her heart.

"That would have been nice," she says quietly, not necessarily for his ears. And she doesn't elaborate on which part she means.

[unpocoloco]

He'd thought about it a lot. More than he wanted to. But he had to. It was a possibility. In his mind, outside the scenarios in which something attacked Ernesto, he could only assume his former friend to have gone and told his family. He'd died. And life moved on. That was something he had to accept, no matter how desperately he fought to cling and get back to it.

He could never picture the other person exactly. Trying to do so just made him wish to be in those shoes.

He just barely hears those softly spoken words. He hangs off her side, walking ahead to the best of his ability. "Maybe next time," He slurs. "Next this time... next this time you should be happy. Things can be nice. You know, Imelda? Things can be nice."

[no_dejare_de_quererte]

"Next this time?" She asks, echoing his words, even knowing that he's drunk and probably only barely know what he's saying himself.

[unpocoloco]

He nods, like it makes perfect sense. "When I die someday forever," He says matter of factly. "When I'm gone. You don't have to be unhappy. And maybe... maybe you could be happy now. Things can be nice when you want to have them be. When you want to do what you want to. You don't have to be unhappy anymore."

[no_dejare_de_quererte]

His words catches her off guard, hitting her like a blow to the chest and bringing her to break their pace. She nearly stops dead in the middle of the road. She almost forgets to breathe.

"That's not how it works." Her voice sounds strained to her ears. "I don't--" --want to be happy if he's dead, is what she almost says. But she swallows those words down. Doesn't want to? Doesn't know how to? It doesn't matter how she phrases it. She's tried for ten years to be happy without him, and none of it sticks. The closest she's ever come is being with her daughter. She brings a joy that's difficult to look away from, but the hole that he left is still there. Just momentarily forgotten.

"Nevermind," she finally says, forcing herself to keep moving forward, though she does so tensely. "I don't want to talk about things like that. I'm happy enough as is."

[unpocoloco]

There's a faint "whoa" from him as she falters and his balance goes with it, but she does manage to hold strong. He looks confusedly at her, waiting for her to finish her thoughts. She doesn't. It feels like a door's been closed on him and he's sure it's his fault.

He feels the tension in her. The silence weighs heavy again. Until he breaks it to say, "Happy enough doesn't sound... happy."

It just doesn't seem fair. Why shouldn't she get more? He sighs. "Lo siento, Imelda."

[no_dejare_de_quererte]

"It's enough, Héctor." She doesn't want to argue with him over her level of happiness. It's not as if she wants to feel this way. It's not as if she hasn't tried to move on.

His apology isn't met with acceptance, but rather a sigh and a dismissal. "You're drunk. Don't worry about it." If she's lucky, he won't even remember this conversation by the time he wakes again. And she certainly won't be reminding him of it.

"We're almost back--and you have a song or something to do, don't you?" Something that doesn't involve her, which she can use as an excuse to turn his attention away until they get back to his dorm.

[unpocoloco]

He should've just stuck to that game of questions. He should have said nothing at all. He looks away from her, sorry, guilty, dejected. He is drunk but he doesn't think he'll believe what he's saying any less otherwise. He mercifully manages not to speak and make things worse.

Not until he's addressed. "I... si. I do."

That's probably his cue to leave then, isn't it? He goes to lift his arm up off her shoulders to take a wobbly step forward on his own.