ladies and gentlemen, here's the romcom no one asked for, but was posted anyway because i already posted it on ao3, and i think some folks on here might like it.
now, enjoy! :D
This was not how Victoria wanted to spend her night on Día de Muertos.
All she wanted was to spend some time with her father and aunt, while visiting her living family members – but instead, the exact opposite happened. Her great-nephew, Miguel, had to go and get himself cursed after stealing a guitar – running off, leaving the entire family searching for him for hours only for Mamá Imelda to find him in a pit with her husband, Héctor. As it turned out, Héctor hadn't abandoned his family – he actually died while trying to get back to them because of Ernesto de la Cruz, who stole his songs and his guitar.
Miguel had insisted that they get Héctor's photo back, as he was family and family came first – so Mamá Imelda agreed to help her husband, and they all got on Pepita's back and flew to the warehouse, where Ceci was. Héctor explained the situation to the dressmaker, and thankfully she agreed to find a few spare Frida costumes for them.
The famous painter also pitched in with the plan, helping them sneak into the large papaya for the performance. During the performance, the family had snuck into a secret backstage corridor and rid themselves of their costumes, before heading out further into the halls to find De la Cruz.
By sheer coincidence, he'd happened to be right around the corner. They wasted no time in chasing him down, right after Mamá Imelda had smacked him twice with her shoe while also declaring Héctor as "the love of her life" – to which the vagabundo was very happy to hear.
Ernesto had been a coward, calling his guards to assist him – but of course, they were no match for the Rivera family. But De la Cruz, on the other hand, had been a struggle – he'd been engaged in a tug-of-war with Mamá Imelda for a few seconds, before Miguel slammed his body into the mariachi's while Victoria helped the family matriarch get back up.
The shoemaker had passed the photo to her granddaughter, telling her to hold onto it while she went to help the others – but just as Imelda had stepped away, the platform underneath Victoria had begun to rise, lifting the woman up through the ceiling.
Now here she was, standing on stage with the spotlight on her – for all to see.
Victoria looked to the right of the stage wing, and saw Ernesto's guards hustling onto the stage, scaling the set as they came for her. She clutched the photo tightly in her hand, stepping closer to the microphone as she began to breathe frantically. She felt as though she was an anxious little school girl again, reading in front of her classmates who all had their eyes on her.
"Sing!"
She looked down to see Miguel in the stage wing left, along with Héctor and Imelda.
"Sing!" the boy urged his great-aunt.
Seeing that the guards were approaching, Victoria closed her eyes and grasped the microphone.
Truth be told, singing wasn't exactly something new to her – when she was a little girl, she would often sing and dance in private, despite the fact that her grandmother had forbade it. She wore socks on her feet and sang softly, quietly enough so that her grandmother would never discover her secret love for music.
As a child, she had dreamed of being like Dolores del Río and María Félix – she wanted to act, travel and sing; but of course, it was not meant to be. At age eighteen, when she had spoken of her dream, her grandmother told her to stay instead of leaving – she told her I already lost my husband. I don't want to lose another member of mi familia to music, okay?
So Victoria followed her grandmother's rules and let that childhood dream of hers die, along with her love of music and dancing.
But now, she knew she had to break the rules and follow Miguel's instructions instead, for her grandfather's afterlife was at stake.
And so, she began singing.
"Ay de mí, Llorona,
Llorona de azul celeste…"
Héctor and Imelda gaped as they heard their granddaughter's voice – soft, yet strong.
"I thought you banned music," Héctor whispered to his wife.
"I did," she whispered back, shaking her head in shock. "How—?"
She was cut off as Miguel placed a guitar into Héctor's hands. The boy then adjusted a mic stand in front of him. The vagabundo played the guitar, its sound amplifying through the stage speakers.
"Ay de mí, Llorona,
Llorona de azul celeste…"
Ernesto's eyes widened as he heard the woman sing. Her voice was gorgeous, elegant, spirited – it was unlike any other woman's voice he'd heard. Not to the mention, the singer was not bad when it came to looks, either.
The mariachi looked to the guards, gesturing for them to stop their pursuit – but they would not, as they just kept on trying to reach the edge of the woman's spotlight.
"Idiotas," the mariachi grumbled, rolling his eyes in frustration. He made a mental note to himself to get better security from then on.
Victoria detached the microphone from its stand as she saw the guards continuing to approach her, taking the spotlight with her as she descended the onstage staircase. As she came down, she made eye contact with her grandparents in the wing. Her grandfather smiled as he accompanied her with his guitar, while her grandmother had a supportive smile on her face.
Her eyes glinted, touched to have her family's support.
"Y aunque la vida me cueste, Llorona,
No dejaré de quererte.
No dejaré de quererte!"
As Héctor accompanied his granddaughter, the young woman became more confident with her singing. The audience began to clap, thrilled by the performance.
Ernesto smiled fondly as he watched the woman move towards the stage. The way she moved – it was as though she was an angel, sent from the heavens above. With each second that passed, he fell deeper in love with her – his dear angel.
Soon, the stage conductor joined in with more instrumentation, which kicked into high gear.
"Me subí al pino más alto, Llorona,
A ver si te divisaba."
As Victoria came onto the stage, she twirled and danced gracefully. She took the spotlight with her as she moved to put distance between her and the guards.
"Como el pino era tierno, Llorona,
Al verme llorar, lloraba."
She continued to vamp, trying to navigate away from the guards, towards her grandparents – to her grandfather, whose photo she held onto as though it were a life line.
A guard blocked her way and tried to grab her, but she tripped him over.
"Ay, de mí, Llorona, Llorona,
Llorona de azul celeste."
She headed towards the left stage wing, towards her grandparents and great-nephew – only to be stopped as a hand grabbed her wrist suddenly, as a voice joined her in harmony.
The spotlight widened to reveal that it was Ernesto singing as well, causing the crowd to go wild.
However, the mariachi paid no attention to the applause, as his eyes were focused on the angel in front of him. The words he sung rang true in a way – he didn't care how much it costed, for he loved her and wouldn't stop; and hopefully, after this performance, she would feel the same way about him.
Meanwhile, Héctor's strumming got more aggressive as his eyes narrowed. He wanted to get up on the stage and beat that mariachi senseless for putting his filthy hands on his granddaughter, but he knew he couldn't.
Imelda was livid, her teeth clenched in rage as there was a burning fury in her eyes. How dare he touch her granddaughter, after all that he had done to her husband and grandson – to her family? If it were not for the fact that Miguel was holding her hands, she would've torn off her boot and dusted that pendejo with it herself.
"Ay de mí, Llorona, Llorona
Llorona de azul celeste…"
Ernesto pulled Victoria into a dip as he tried to serenade her. He no longer cared about getting the photo, for he wanted something else now – her heart.
Victoria wormed her way out of his grasp, trying to move off stage, only for him to grab her and lift her up into the air while the audience clapped along to the song.
"Y aunque la vida me cueste, Llorona,
No dejaré de quererte."
The security guards watched in awe from afar as their boss twirled while he held Victoria high up in the air, singing lovingly to her.
Victoria, on the other hand, was kicking her legs and flailing her arms. "Let go of me!" she hissed.
When Ernesto did put her back down, she tried heading off stage once more, only for him to sling his arm around her chest and twirl her around again.
He found it cute, how she seemed surprised as he twirled her around. He felt like the luckiest man in the entire world, to have found a jewel like her – to be holding her in his arms while singing.
"Y aunque la vida me cueste, Llorona,
No dejaré de quererte."
He spun her around, dancing with her around the stage while pouring his heart and soul into the song. He was sure that by the end of this performance, she would be left awestruck – completely head over heels for him as he was for her.
"No dejaré de quererte."
After spinning Victoria around one last time, Ernesto grabbed the photo, throwing it behind him as it was useless to him now. Then, he grabbed both of her hands as he wrapped an arm around her.
Her eyes widened as she looked behind her, seeing the photo fall to the ground. She had to think of something, and fast in order to get it back.
"No dejaré de quererte!
Ay, ay, ay!"
Then, an idea struck Victoria's head. Just as Ernesto hit a high note at the song's finale, she stomped her huarache's heel onto his foot, causing him to let her go.
He hopped on one foot as he clutched the other in pain. At the corner of his eye, he saw her run off the stage with the photo.
However, he wasn't angered by her actions – on the contrary, he was rather excited, for he loved a challenge.
Besides, surely it wouldn't be that big of a task trying to woo her – while she was a Rivera woman, he was Ernesto de la Cruz, one of Mexico's greatest musicians.
Just how could she resist him?