unpocoloco | Daybreak IC Inbox

There's a silence that falls over her, broken only by a few shaky breaths. She's still trying to force it all back down, but it's proving more and more that it might be a futile effort.

She feels his hand over hers, and she's caught between an urge to pull away and an equal urge to hold on tight. He's so gentle with her that it's painful. In the end, she pulls her hand away, only so she can wrap her arms around herself.

She doesn't know what to say to his apology. It's not his fault... but if not his, then whose? Who can she blame for all of this suffering? For his and hers and their daughter's?

"Why couldn't you have just-- made it home?" Her voice is strained, trying desperately to find a steadiness that isn't there at the moment. "Why you? Why us? If you had just made it home... All of these years would have been so different."

He's never seen her like this. Never. She always held strong, no matter what, even that day she and her parents fought about him, even with everything that's happened here.

He feels useless. When she pulls away his own hands entangle and he watches on unhappily.

Her words bring his breath to catch. This isn't the usual accusation. It doesn't take long to work out the difference and he feels his heart drop.

She's mourning him.

He's had all those thoughts, and so many times, twisting him up. Hesitant or not, he has to reach out. He has to take her in his arms and do the one thing every dead man dreams of. He holds her tight, close to his chest, one hand tracing through her hair.

"I know. I know... it's not fair. But death just happens, mi amor. It's just bad luck. You take what you can of life and that's all you can do. You try to make it worth it."

He sinks down, better to look at her and see her face. Even with tears pricking in his own eyes. "I wanted it to be worth it. For you and me. I wanted to make you happy. No matter how short the time. You made me happy. So, so happy. You know that now, right?"

As he holds her, she doesn't pull away or protest. If anything, she finds herself leaning into him, accepting the comfort that he's offering in that moment. Her arms release from their place around herself, reaching out to cling to him instead. Her body trembles against his as she buries her face against his shoulder and lets the tears come as they will.

She does know it now, that she made him happy. It took a long time to remember, but it's something she knows to hold on to now. He never left because he was tired of them, or of their small town life in Santa Cecilia. He didn't have any other family or lovers. The fame hadn't gone to his head.

He had simply died. It was the most painful outcome, but it was still the truth just the same.

"I was happy with you," she responds in a quiet voice that cracks a little as she speaks. "That was all I wanted."

Edited 2019-05-14 05:54 (UTC)

He laughs softly, oh so quiet, as a small smile starts to form. He feels those tears spill and he doesn't stop them.

"I'm glad. I'm so happy to hear that." It's a rush of relief, breaking his heart and bringing it to swell at once.

"We... we have time, you know? It's not those years. I know that can't change. But we've got a little more time. For whatever. Who ever gets so lucky? If you can't take that time, it's okay. But we have it. I'm here now."

He hopes that sounds like reassurance, not a curse.

"I... I love you, Imelda. So much." It might be too much. He doesn't imagine she'll say back. But he's not saying it for that purpose.

They have time... They really do, and she's so glad for that. The thought that is could have been worse is at the same time horrifying and a small measure of gratefulness. She might not have ever seen him again. She might have lived and died thinking that he never loved them.

Even hearing those words spoken to her, she has such a range of feelings. She doesn't know that she can say them back in this moment, but it's the first time he's said he loves her that she hasn't dismissed the thought outright. Instead, she keeps her head against his shoulder, letting the last of her tears work their way out. She can't remember if she's ever cried so much in her life, but... She does feel a little better for it. Or maybe that's still just him, being so close to her.

"Thank you for being here," she says after a few more seconds of silence between them. There's a million ways to interpret those words, and she means them in a million different ways.

It's a thought that's lingered in his own mind since it happened. It could've been the end, no second chances.

He holds her close, leaning his head to rest on hers. They're both still on the outside while their feelings cyclone away. If she's cried any time more than this he doesn't remember it. He doesn't cry so much as her, but only because he's been dwelling on this all far longer. He can't get those years back. He's been mourning each one he missed. His own stupid fault for not being home besides.

"Happy to be here," he replies soft, meaning it probably just as many ways. A ghost of a smile takes form. His eyes close and before he can think to stop himself, a hum slips out.

A feeling so close...

She doesn't stop him, when he starts to hum another familiar tune from their past. A few more tears leak out, but it's not the same as the sobbing that she was doing before. She lets them fall until she feels they're finally done. There's a calmness that's finally come over her, and she feels... Not content, but at least empty of the sadness she's been carrying around for so long. It will probably be back later, but for now... She feels better.

A hand lifts to rub at her eyes, trying to clear away the tears, but knowing that her face must look a mess right now. It can't be helped. But she can at least mitigate it a little bit.

With a little reluctance, she withdraws just enough to look up at him, smiling weakly. "I should get cleaned up. There will be questions if I head back to Lumière looking like a mess." Questions that she doesn't really want to answer. "Do you mind if I use your sink?"

Edited 2019-05-15 02:15 (UTC)

He's got a few tears to wipe away himself, though not so much as her. She gives a smile to him and he returns it easily. He wants to kiss her but manages to resist.

"Still look beautiful." But he can understand avoiding questions. He lets her go with equal reluctance. "I don't mind. Use whatever you need."

Though he can't help wishing she'd stay longer.

"You're free to visit here. In the future, if you want to. If you text me, I can tell you I'm up and you can stop by... but no obligation of course."

Still look beautiful. Her smile turns a little dry at that. Only he would think so... but there's a part of her that's glad he still has that bias.

He suggests that she could visit, and she concedes to that. "I know... I'll keep that in mind." It's not the first time she's visited his room, and she's certain now that it won't be the last. They still have more time, after all.

She starts to disentangle herself from him, but before she pulls away completely, she leans in closer for a moment. While he might have resisted his own urge, she doesn't she the same restraint. A brief kiss is pressed to his cheek and she gives him a small smile as she pulls away.

"I'll only be a moment," she says as she heads for the shared bathroom door.

Anyone who doesn't think so is blind or a fool but he's happy to seem the wise one.

It's a maybe that she gives. He doesn't know whether to hope or not but he bobs his head. Either way he'll understand.

He's all but bracing for that coming distance, putting the moment to memory, when she does something he's not prepared for at all.

He feels her kiss on his cheek, short and sweet, and his breath pulls sharp. He hasn't a thought in his head as he stares, stunned. He's still frozen in place as she wanders off.

A few more minutes with her out of sight and his hand lifts to touch where she kissed. He's only just made it to the bed, tentatively pulling that guitar to his lap. There's a flushed look to him.

She realizes that she's surprised him as soon as she gives him that kiss. Truth be told, she's surprised herself a little as well. But she doesn't regret it, not even as she heads into the bathroom, leaving him speechless.

Inside, she uses the sink to splash water on her face, wiping away the tear streaks and leaving her feeling a little fresher. She holds a cold washrag over her eyes for half a minute, trying to bring down the puffiness. Finally, she fixes her hair back into it's usual form, pulling the braids out and redoing them to catch the strands of hair that had been pulled out of place. Once finished, she looks herself over, pleased to see that she looks much more put together. Almost as good as new.

It's only when she leaves the bathroom, feeling better than she had before, that the regret finally creeps slowly into her. Imelda finds him sitting on the bed again with the guitar in his lap and that look on his face. Like she's just shaken him to his core.

Her expression falters for only a fraction of a second. It was a mistake to think that she could do something so recklessly and not have it affect him this much. He might be happy with the affection, but she doesn't want to give him the wrong idea--or to imply that she's ready for something when she's still getting her feet under her. That would be cruel to him... and she's done enough of that already.

She fixes a smile back on her face, though more of a restrained one. "I was thinking of going to the banquet hall before heading back to Lumière. Do you want to join me?"

He doesn't manage to play anything more, his focus for that shattered, but he tunes the guitar mindlessly until she's out. He starts then smiles up at her. Almost looks like nothing happened.

He misses the way she falters, only catching her smile in return. He's prepared for goodbye, but she surprises him again.

"Yes! I mean, I would love to." He gets up, setting the guitar aside to take up his cane. Then he falters. "Ah, should I bring something? Paperwork? A textbook? I don't want to make you feel awkward if I sit there."

"You can bring something." If it means that he has something to do other than just sit there and stare at her, well... That's probably a good thing. Part of her isn't sure he'll mind, but it's true that it'd be a little less awkward for her.

Whatever he intends to grab, she'll wait for him patiently by the door. Though given his use of a cane, she adds "Would you like help carrying anything?"

He smiles and nods. For the best. He might want to sit there and stare at her but it's no good making her or anyone uncomfortable. It's a big enough deal that they'll be sitting by one another. Even for those that knew nothing about them, that was surely no small matter. She was letting them be together in public.

He takes up papers, some to mark, some blank in case he should get bored. A pen is tucked behind his ear.

"I'm alright," He tells her. "But if you could get the door, I'd appreciate that." Second time he's asked her about the door but at least this time he feels like less of an ass about it. "And let me know if I'm going too slow. I can always do a partial change to speed up."

At his request, she opens the door for him, stepping back to allow him through. It's a stark difference between the last time he asked this of her and now. Three months and a million different feelings later...

"It's alright; you don't have to change. I don't mind going slowly." She starts off at a casual pace, something closer to leisurely than purposeful, glancing back to make sure that he can keep up.

Once they're on their way, she continues with a different sort of topic. "I've been thinking... about changing up some of the rules on my floor. Maybe."

He thanks her as he passes by. Definitely a stark difference. This is much better.

He can't say he minds the slower pace either. More time with her. Regardless of her pace though, he makes himself keep up with it.

His brows go up then, head tilting curious. "A rule change? Those kids causing trouble?" They were good kids no doubt but not particularly obedient.

He immediately doesn't understand, and that causes her to give a look back to him--a lifted brow and a slight frown.

"No, the students have been fine. I wasn't thinking of adding any rules. ... I was thinking of removing them." She looks out towards the banquet hall where they're headed, just to keep from looking at him. "Specially... One rule."

He stares blankly.

"The... wait. Wait, wait wait. The- the ban? The music ban?" He eyes her face, like even bringing it up might be the wrong thing.

He exhales a rush of air. "The kids would be really happy but... are you sure? You don't want to give it more time?"

She exhales a sigh at his questioning, looking a little frustrated, but mostly at herself.

"I don't know. I don't know what to do." That frown remains in place as she looks towards the ground, her brow furrowing. Her voice dips quieter. "... She hated that ban. She hated the idea of being me."

"Ay, that," He sighs. He can relate to that feeling. But there's a key difference. He already knew he didn't want to be who he is now. But her?

"She didn't know how wonderful you are," He says softly. "She didn't know there was more to life yet than music. She wasn't seeing what you accomplished, the good and beautiful daughter that you raised. She was seeing an adult who isn't about silly fantasies. To a kid that's scary but in reality there's nothing wrong with that. What matters is how you feel now. About the ban and yourself. But if you ask me, she should've been proud to be you."

He's proud of her. Coco, he's sure, must be. Her brothers always were and the rest of her family too even when they disagreed. He knows many more students here are too.

Edited 2019-05-16 12:51 (UTC)

She didn't know how wonderful you are.

The compliment catches her off guard. She looks up and over to Héctor, words failing her. He was always saying things like that, years ago. It was one of the charming things about him--one of the things that she fell hard for. The way he could speak truth from his heart and build her up. The way he was always there when she felt like she was falling.

"I'm not sure how I feel about the ban right now," she admits, looking away again, but not without a flush to her cheeks. "Or myself. It's... I feel like she's still there, like she didn't fall neatly back into place. All of her extra thoughts and feelings are still out of place." Including the ones that she had about herself and about music... and about him.

"Is it the same with you?"

He thinks nothing of it. Even keeping his distance it's not bad if it's true, right? He just offers a small smile and carries on.

He listens. He takes care not to mention that flush. He thinks he understands what she's saying but his mouth presses at her question all the same. How to put it...

"Teto... we don't... feel too different. What I hoped for or was afraid of, it hasn't changed much. Mostly it just kind of makes older disappointments fresh again." Putting it very, very lightly.

"There's a few differences of course, like the fame thing. That was always Ernesto's dream and I just bought it." He breathes deep and smiles down at the ground. "And on the other hand... Coco. I had no idea how much it would mean. How it would feel... the best days of my life, being her Papá." He thinks a little more and says, "I feel less tired, I think. Like I could do more, maybe. I got to play for you. That was nice. I do want to play more thanks to him but I don't know." He shrugs.

Edited 2019-05-17 06:08 (UTC)

She gives a drier look when he mentions Ernesto, but that same look softens as he comes around to Coco again. Their daughter... She had no idea back then how important one little girl could be.

He mentions playing for her just now, and her expression shifts yet again to something a little more troubled.

"Teto said you don't really play anymore. That it... Makes you sad. Is that true?"

Edited 2019-05-17 13:12 (UTC)

His own smile slips. He did say that, didn't he?

"It's... a little more complicated than that. Not as simple as sad, for me." Though immediately he regrets saying that, as it means having to explain.

"But, no, I don't really play anymore. Or at least not as much. I stopped performing a long ago. Played every now and again for people I traveled with or people who were- who didn't have anywhere to go, but some things happened, I stopped wanting to play much at all, and then when the guitar I was using finally broke it was easier to just... not." He shrugs. "I keep being drawn back to it, like a bad habit, I suppose. But eventually, I'll kick it. Or, that was my plan."

Once again, he's less sure now. Especially what with her saying he ought to hang on to the guitar he "borrowed" from this place.

That was his plan... To "kick a bad habit", so he says. She doesn't point out that if he kept coming back to it, he never really wanted to quit it to begin with. But one thing does still bother her, and it's not something that she's going to let slide until she gets a proper answer.

"Some things being... when I found you?" She looks at him more directly, if only to prompt an answer from him that he can't side step. "Am I the reason you stopped wanting to play? Because I was angry with you?"

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject