Joaquin wasn't the type of person to run away from a problem, but that's what he'd done. He'd run away and hidden himself in one of the guest bedrooms of the Posada estate after his one-sided conversation with General Posada and María, the former moreso than the latter.
His cheeks flushed warm at the thought. One the one hand, he understood where the General was coming from. He wanted María to have a comfortable life with someone who would take care of her. Joaquin's military career was stable, he had the best education one could get, and he was of good stock and social standing. He was the perfect match for María.
Now if only he wanted to marry her to begin with. They were close, despite his decade long absence from her life... and that was where their relationship stopped. In the privacy of the bedroom, he tried to imagine a life with María. The future he faced was vague, but the dissatisfaction it held for both of them was clear. He loved María, but he couldn't love her in the way she deserved.
Joaquin fell back on the bed, sighing deeply as he stared up at the ceiling. This was a terrible position to be in, and he wished he had someone to whom he could turn for advice. As if in answer, guitar chords, lullaby soft, filtered up to meet his ears. Joaquin sat up, his brow furrowing, as a voice started to sing—"I love you too much, to live without you loving me back..."
There was no mistaking that voice, and Joaquin found himself smiling at the sound. He stood, the floorboards creaking and sighing under his feet, and made his way to the French doors that lead out to the balcony. When he pushed the door opened, some doves that had perched on the balcony rails took flight, and the sounds of the guitar and its guitarrista became clearer. Joaquin came up to the edge of the balcony, leaning against the rail to look down at the street below.
The pavement was devoid of life, but Manolo's voice could heard as easily as if he were standing next to Joaquin. "I know I belong when I sing this song—there's love above love and it's ours, 'cause I love you too much."
Joaquin rested his hand on his chin, listening to the guitar, the words, the voice singing them. Ours—such a tempting prospect. As he considered this, Manolo stepped into his view from under the balcony and turned to look at his audience. His expression seemed to become shy for a moment, but then it changed to one of contentment and adoration. Seeing Manolo smile so warmly and hearing the words of his song made Joaquin return the expression, and his hand fell from his chin to dangle over the rail.
He was vaguely aware of the world around him, but none of it mattered as he trained his attention on Manolo. "Heaven knows your name I've been praying, to have you come here by my side. Without you, a part of me's missing—" The words struck a chord in him, making Joaquin stand up straighter. Manolo was the kind of person who spoke (and in this case, played) from the heart, who never minced his words or told anything that wasn't true; now, when he said that part of him was missing without Joaquin… Had he spent his youth feeling the same loneliness Joaquin had? Maybe he had; maybe not. All Joaquin knew was that the feelings stirred in the bullring that afternoon now had a name—love.
As Manolo repeated his declaration, I love you too much, there was a flurry of activity from down the street. With speed that belied their easygoing personalities and varied sizes, the Rodriguez brothers rushed to Manolo to form a human tower and allowed him to use their sombreros as steps to ascend to the balcony. Despite all the motion and bustle, Manolo's eyes remained locked on Joaquin's as he continued to sing.
As he came closer to the balcony rail, now standing on the Rodriguez brothers' backs, Manolo swayed and for a moment, it seemed as though he would fall. Fear gripped Joaquin, and he reached out to catch him. As he did so, Manolo steadied himself, seeming to be bringing his song to a close. "There's love above love and it's mine 'cause I love you—there's love above love and it's yours 'cause I love you—there's love above love and it's ours if you love me… as much."
When he uttered these last words, his hands stilled, no longer playing the guitar, and the world around them was still. Manolo's smile softened, and he reached out to grip the rail with his free hand. He stepped off of the brothers to stand on the edge of the balcony, his feet between the balusters, and leaned in closer to Joaquin, almost tentative.
Ours, ours, ours echoed in Joaquin's ears, and he became acutely aware of how close they were, and how handsome the guitarrista was. Before he could think about his actions, Joaquin laid a hand on Manolo's cheek and leaned in closer to press his lips to Manolo's. He still smelled of dust from the bullring, and his lips were far softer than Joaquin might have guessed. More than that, though, there was a twist in Joaquin's stomach that could only be described as happiness. Kissing Manolo felt… good—good and impossibly right.
After a moment, Manolo broke away. When Joaquin opened his eyes, he couldn't help but laugh at the almost surprised expression Manolo wore. Had he not been expecting Joaquin to kiss him? "Did you plan on it being that easy?"