His expression turns serious. He takes note of Nekane and their anger. He breathes deep and looks down.
"It was how I found out," He explains. "I was being forgotten. That was... my last night. All that time, I never figured it out on my own. I never believed he'd... Miguel pointed it out. De La Cruz was his hero, I thought he was just caught up in that but he showed me and... Ernesto made himself the hero in the movie, of course. Gave his own lines to the villain. Except in his show, he drinks the poison and spits it out just like that. Saves the day and heads home. El Camino A Casa."
He blows a breath out through his teeth. He'd never even thought it might be a slap. He'd never bothered to watch.
"I didn't have words either. Do you remember when I found out here? What did I... I threw a shoe, right? I don't know. I just wanted to hit him. Hit him as many times as I had to hear him play my songs. I hadn't been so angry since- since Dodger." He shakes his head. "Bastards don't care. They'll change the story to whatever makes them look or feel good, turn the blame around, all that stuff." He spins a circle with his bone fingers. "But if there's one good thing, it's that no one knows him here. I don't have to hear him."
The anger in their belly burns more then any lava lake in Hell when he tells Nekane just how it goes in Ernesto's movie. His actions pushed off to the villain while he remained the hero. A hero who gets to go home.
Someone who twisted the story so he comes out smelling of roses. And Nekane sure as fuck knows a certain God who'd get along with him.
There's no point in pointing out that just because people don't know Ernesto, it doesn't mean that Hell won't rub it in his face. Héctor knows. Instead Nekane takes a few deep, slow breaths before reaching over to pull Héctor into a hug.
"This is a shitty consolation prize," They say. "But I'm sorry that everything turned out this way. And I'm sorry Ernesto turned out to be such a fucking cowardly slimeball."
Why couldn't he do this alone...? From everything that Héctor's told them about him, Ernesto had talent. So why...? And why the fuck did it have to come at the price of Héctor's life?!
Nekane was right. Hell would rub it in his face. It was almost inevitable. But he can't help thinking, not even Hell could rub it in as much as hearing his daughter's song everywhere did, for years and years.
Then again, Hell might have him for an eternity this time, depending on what he decided to do with himself. Perhaps it would catch up to the Land of the Dead for sheer salting the wound.
"Yeah," He says. "In some way, it kind of helped. I don't miss him. Not anymore." So much time had passed, so many little digs. Now he saw there was nothing to miss. Not really. "I don't wonder why. Now I know. Why it happened, why he didn't tell my family, what he really wanted all along."
There's was just the loose end of Miguel. Miguel, left alone at the bottom of the cenote. Miguel who might... He can't think about it. There's nothing he can do now either way. To distract himself and them, he reaches over and bumps his knuckles to their arm, smiling again.
"And I get to watch terrible things with you. That's a pretty good prize. Or torture. I haven't decided what this movie falls under yet."
Even if he turns the conversation to something lighter, Nekane still has to take a few deep breaths to try and smoother the rage boiling in their stomach. Life could at least take a break from dumping shit on this guy! It's fucking unfair.
But ultimately they know they have to let it go. There's nothing either of them can do from Hell. Still, Nekane knows they won't be able to promise not to hurt Ernesto if he came here.
"It's torture," They say eventually. "'Least according to John it was. I made him watch it with me one Christmas. Said if he wasn't fated to kick it in his eighties, he'd die on the spot then and there."
Nekane's tone is light. John's approach to his impending death was with humor (black or otherwise) and just simple acceptance.
"I've got more and I ain't gonna tell you if they're any better or worse."
He could understand. Dios knows anything to do with their old family made him feel like he could breathe fire. And he is angry at Ernesto. But, they don't need to hold onto this now.
They make him laugh. It comes out bright, despite everything.
"I guess that makes John my comrad in suffering," He jokes. "But I don't I believe in worse. This has already topped the charts of truly terrible."
In and out, in and out. One, two, three. One, two, three. It's not enough to completely quell their rage at Ernesto but it'll do for now.
They can sooth their soul by torturing Héctor with terrible Christmas movies. Speaking of, Héctor basically issued a challenge. Nekane grins, raising an eyebrow, before taking the tape out of the VCR and popping in another.
"You ain't seen nothing yet."
The new movie's called Santa Claus Conquers The Martians. It is exactly what it sounds like.
Meanwhile they're going to pop open a small bucket of ice cream and goes to town on it.
They say, you ain't seen nothing yet. And he says, "Oh god."
At some point in the horrendous film, he just can't watch it anymore. If he had a physical brain, it would have melted out of his skull. Instead he turns to them, facing them with utter disbelief.
Nekane's busy licking their fingers free of ice cream as the film goes on. They have to wonder if repeated viewings of these types of movies gave them some sort of immunity.
Also they sound too cheerful when they say, "Because it's fucking good."
But judging by the sly grin on their face, Nekane's just fucking with Héctor. Maybe.
"Have you ever in your entire time in this place, even once, seen any art or whatever that was actually good and not some form of awful somehow?" He asks. Then without waiting for an answer, he says, "No. And that is how I know these are awful. Because only by being so bad would they show up here."
Even if they roll with being shoved again, Nekane waves a hand. As if what they're going to say isn't loaded.
"Bah. You're here so good things do come to this shithole." And just as quickly, they move on. "Besides, we're talking about your tastes in things. Which if I recall correctly - and I never fucking forget - was shit. So there."
They shove back again. But this time they also try to bury under the covers so they don't get shoved again.
First, they blindside him with what is clearly a compliment. The nerve. Then, they insult his taste.
"Oh no, you get back here..."
They try and squirm away but he's reaching, pulling them back out, this damned burrowing creature. At the least, he can burrow with them and, whatever the result, but his hands on his hips.
"You've scrambled something because my taste is just fine!" Ignoring... a fair portion of his former friends... "But even if it wasn't! I can tell what's awful! And this excuse for a theatrical film is awful."
Nekane does their best to not get pulled out and only half succeeds, mainly because they don't want to bring the chairs down on Héctor. He can put himself back together, sure, but neither of them want to find out what would happen to any bones that snap clean in half.
And they could point out his shit tastes in friends or that by loving them, his tastes were even worse. But that's a low blow on both accounts and the latter would just start up that old conversations.
"So says the guy I've caught reading my romance books. All of them."
Perhaps not more of the cursed ones - and caught may be a strong word here - but it still stands. Somehow.
"Yeah, they are." Although Nekane isn't picky when it came to books and absolutely would have read them even if it was shit. "But most of the movies were pretty shit. Hold on..."
They uncover themself a little more to check their pile of terrible movies and come up with a few. Fifty Shades Of Grey and Twilight. The first goes in and they start it up.
"Keep in mind this shit was popular enough to get a movie. And that some idiot thought it was hot."
And they lean back to watch it play out. Right after that they're starting up Twilight and Héctor can't stop them.
He can already tell, by the gleeful look in their eyes, that this is going to be terrible. Even before they say the movies are shit. He leaning back as they hold them up like the things might come to life and bight at him.
He can't see anything outright terrible from the cover, or the titles, but that means nothing.
"I don't trust popular. You know I don't trust popular. I've seen the things popular will do," He says.
But even they can't put up with these movies for so long, even if they're enjoying Héctor's reactions to it. Nekane re-buries themself under the blankets and only comes back up to drag a few snacks into the depths.
"I'm gonna blame the existence of Hell on these movies. Sounds good?"
This might be the part where he'd call them a monster, but they'd take that for truth so instead he just narrows his eyes and shakes his head at them. Terrible. The worst.
And when they slip away he says, "Hey!" and tries to burrow in after them. They don't get to run away while he's suffering! Rude.
Once he's successfully burrowed under with them, he snorts.
"Pretty sure Hell existed before these nightmares," He says. "But sure, yes."
Nekane snickers and finally takes pity on Héctor by changing the movie to something different. This time the acting isn't that bad - cringe, mainly - but for a romantic comedy movie, it's sure missing the comedy part with the onslaught of terrible jokes.
"Hard to say. Chicken, egg. Hell, shit movies. Who can really say which came first?" Yes, they are treating this like deep philosophy. It's actually a repeat of a conversation they engaged with John, once upon a time. They couldn't sleep so it was one of many times they both engaged in a really stupid conversation until the sun rose.
Under the blankets they reach for his hand to hold onto. "Thanks, by the way. For going along with this shit."
In truth, they didn't need to change the movie. He paid enough attention to be baffled at times or to rib Nekane a little. But, just as before, he spends much more time observing them, enjoying their company with something they enjoyed.
He rolls his eyes, pretending to be exasperated by their flawed philosophical logic. It doesn't truly bother him and it's probably obvious when they take his hand. Something sings in his ribcage. Something weeps.
"It's your shit," He says. "I like seeing you enjoy things."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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"It was how I found out," He explains. "I was being forgotten. That was... my last night. All that time, I never figured it out on my own. I never believed he'd... Miguel pointed it out. De La Cruz was his hero, I thought he was just caught up in that but he showed me and... Ernesto made himself the hero in the movie, of course. Gave his own lines to the villain. Except in his show, he drinks the poison and spits it out just like that. Saves the day and heads home. El Camino A Casa."
He blows a breath out through his teeth. He'd never even thought it might be a slap. He'd never bothered to watch.
"I didn't have words either. Do you remember when I found out here? What did I... I threw a shoe, right? I don't know. I just wanted to hit him. Hit him as many times as I had to hear him play my songs. I hadn't been so angry since- since Dodger." He shakes his head. "Bastards don't care. They'll change the story to whatever makes them look or feel good, turn the blame around, all that stuff." He spins a circle with his bone fingers. "But if there's one good thing, it's that no one knows him here. I don't have to hear him."
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Someone who twisted the story so he comes out smelling of roses. And Nekane sure as fuck knows a certain God who'd get along with him.
There's no point in pointing out that just because people don't know Ernesto, it doesn't mean that Hell won't rub it in his face. Héctor knows. Instead Nekane takes a few deep, slow breaths before reaching over to pull Héctor into a hug.
"This is a shitty consolation prize," They say. "But I'm sorry that everything turned out this way. And I'm sorry Ernesto turned out to be such a fucking cowardly slimeball."
Why couldn't he do this alone...? From everything that Héctor's told them about him, Ernesto had talent. So why...? And why the fuck did it have to come at the price of Héctor's life?!
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Then again, Hell might have him for an eternity this time, depending on what he decided to do with himself. Perhaps it would catch up to the Land of the Dead for sheer salting the wound.
"Yeah," He says. "In some way, it kind of helped. I don't miss him. Not anymore." So much time had passed, so many little digs. Now he saw there was nothing to miss. Not really. "I don't wonder why. Now I know. Why it happened, why he didn't tell my family, what he really wanted all along."
There's was just the loose end of Miguel. Miguel, left alone at the bottom of the cenote. Miguel who might... He can't think about it. There's nothing he can do now either way. To distract himself and them, he reaches over and bumps his knuckles to their arm, smiling again.
"And I get to watch terrible things with you. That's a pretty good prize. Or torture. I haven't decided what this movie falls under yet."
no subject
But ultimately they know they have to let it go. There's nothing either of them can do from Hell. Still, Nekane knows they won't be able to promise not to hurt Ernesto if he came here.
"It's torture," They say eventually. "'Least according to John it was. I made him watch it with me one Christmas. Said if he wasn't fated to kick it in his eighties, he'd die on the spot then and there."
Nekane's tone is light. John's approach to his impending death was with humor (black or otherwise) and just simple acceptance.
"I've got more and I ain't gonna tell you if they're any better or worse."
no subject
They make him laugh. It comes out bright, despite everything.
"I guess that makes John my comrad in suffering," He jokes. "But I don't I believe in worse. This has already topped the charts of truly terrible."
Oh how little he knows.
no subject
They can sooth their soul by torturing Héctor with terrible Christmas movies. Speaking of, Héctor basically issued a challenge. Nekane grins, raising an eyebrow, before taking the tape out of the VCR and popping in another.
"You ain't seen nothing yet."
The new movie's called Santa Claus Conquers The Martians. It is exactly what it sounds like.
Meanwhile they're going to pop open a small bucket of ice cream and goes to town on it.
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At some point in the horrendous film, he just can't watch it anymore. If he had a physical brain, it would have melted out of his skull. Instead he turns to them, facing them with utter disbelief.
He asks but one thing; "Why."
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Also they sound too cheerful when they say, "Because it's fucking good."
But judging by the sly grin on their face, Nekane's just fucking with Héctor. Maybe.
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"No. No, no... no. This is... no. It is not." He lifts a hand to their head and he gives a light shove. "I've decided. You have no taste at all."
He already knew this but he's going to tease about it.
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"My tastes are fucking incredible. You just can't appreciate fine art."
This is turning into something incredibly stupid. But Nekane knew it'd be stupid when they suggested to watch terrible movies.
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"Have you ever in your entire time in this place, even once, seen any art or whatever that was actually good and not some form of awful somehow?" He asks. Then without waiting for an answer, he says, "No. And that is how I know these are awful. Because only by being so bad would they show up here."
Then, he shoves back.
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"Bah. You're here so good things do come to this shithole." And just as quickly, they move on. "Besides, we're talking about your tastes in things. Which if I recall correctly - and I never fucking forget - was shit. So there."
They shove back again. But this time they also try to bury under the covers so they don't get shoved again.
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"Oh no, you get back here..."
They try and squirm away but he's reaching, pulling them back out, this damned burrowing creature. At the least, he can burrow with them and, whatever the result, but his hands on his hips.
"You've scrambled something because my taste is just fine!" Ignoring... a fair portion of his former friends... "But even if it wasn't! I can tell what's awful! And this excuse for a theatrical film is awful."
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And they could point out his shit tastes in friends or that by loving them, his tastes were even worse. But that's a low blow on both accounts and the latter would just start up that old conversations.
"So says the guy I've caught reading my romance books. All of them."
Perhaps not more of the cursed ones - and caught may be a strong word here - but it still stands. Somehow.
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He opens his mouth. Then he closes it. Then he opens it again.
"What's wrong with the romance books?" He nearly pouts. "I thought they were nice..."
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They uncover themself a little more to check their pile of terrible movies and come up with a few. Fifty Shades Of Grey and Twilight. The first goes in and they start it up.
"Keep in mind this shit was popular enough to get a movie. And that some idiot thought it was hot."
And they lean back to watch it play out. Right after that they're starting up Twilight and Héctor can't stop them.
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He can't see anything outright terrible from the cover, or the titles, but that means nothing.
"I don't trust popular. You know I don't trust popular. I've seen the things popular will do," He says.
The movie starts. He keeps making a face.
Finally, he says, "Why are you doing this to me."
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But even they can't put up with these movies for so long, even if they're enjoying Héctor's reactions to it. Nekane re-buries themself under the blankets and only comes back up to drag a few snacks into the depths.
"I'm gonna blame the existence of Hell on these movies. Sounds good?"
Because it sure does to them.
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And when they slip away he says, "Hey!" and tries to burrow in after them. They don't get to run away while he's suffering! Rude.
Once he's successfully burrowed under with them, he snorts.
"Pretty sure Hell existed before these nightmares," He says. "But sure, yes."
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"Hard to say. Chicken, egg. Hell, shit movies. Who can really say which came first?" Yes, they are treating this like deep philosophy. It's actually a repeat of a conversation they engaged with John, once upon a time. They couldn't sleep so it was one of many times they both engaged in a really stupid conversation until the sun rose.
Under the blankets they reach for his hand to hold onto. "Thanks, by the way. For going along with this shit."
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He rolls his eyes, pretending to be exasperated by their flawed philosophical logic. It doesn't truly bother him and it's probably obvious when they take his hand. Something sings in his ribcage. Something weeps.
"It's your shit," He says. "I like seeing you enjoy things."