He takes a moment to recollect his memory about the last time lights of pink and blue flared his perception, the heavy taste of alcohol straining his throat, the words of familiar songs escaping his mouth loosely. He tries to remember as best as he can before he forgets, and then he is completely misplaced, whatever bad decision close around the corner.
He remembers that it was an American bar he was at before, Donald and him having their second reunion, just a few months after their first meeting with José introducing the two to each other. He recalls Donald being intoxicated that night too, trying out a martini for the first time, recommended by Panchito himself. Panchito didn't drink them a lot but when he does he's just drunk it fast, not ordering another. But, Donald really seemed to enjoy them, so he kept wasting his money that night. He remembers Donald's voice all cloggy, and Panchito wasn't sure if Donald really was there in the moment. He wasn't sure if the duck knew at all how much money he was spending.
He remembers Donald calling him the morning after, asking him to promise to not let him spend his money like that ever again. They were close enough for Panchito to promise.
"How long has it been?" he asks himself, his head throbbing with every movement. There was no way he should be feeling a head-on this far into drinking.
He looked around the bar, the lights shifting, along with the number of people crowding the dancefloor. He tried to listen to the songs and he could tell they weren't his taste. The more people got absurd with their dancing, the more erotic the songs became. The DJ really tried tonight, but Panchito wasn't the type to applaud someone occupied in making people in the "mood."
He looks away into his drink, the bartender talking as powerful as possible close to him to another guy. It was enough to make Panchito move seats, feet aching. Did he run here or something? Sitting down and staring at nothing, he tries to answer the question.
Really, why was he even here?
He thinks about leaving, but something held him back in his seat. Something in mind overpowering him to keep him there. He just wishes he could find that part of his mind to understand for why.
He takes a drink, his head hurting all over. He wonders, then lays his head down. He must really seem depressed from another's point of view, it was entertaining to think about, so he smirked from his hidden beak. He was fine, he knows.
The bartender asks if he's okay, but Panchito doesn't hear him. Being asked again with a raised voice, Panchito lifts his head up, nodding his head.
"Have something you need to talk about, amigo?" the music fades.
The man wasn't Latin and it was visible by Panchito, but the gesture was pleasant and the rooster finally decided to talk with another person at this bar. He wasn't an introverted man and loved people, just something in his chest made him stay away.
"Mi amigo, I don't remember anything right now," Panchito scoot the drink away with the back of his hand, "I'm just guessing what's wrong with me." The bartender nodded, empathetic.
"It does that, y'know?"
"Huh?"
"Alcohol"
Panchito just nods, almost not hearing him. Did he agree that was the problem though? He didn't have a drink at the time he started feeling something dissimilar. Drinking never brought any new feelings, just numbing them. He laughed at the thought of it, being numb all over physically and mentally.
He couldn't feel his beak. Not a surprise at all, but he still rubbed it to see if it would go back to normal. He wonders if he rubbed his head it would make his brain more cleared, then he could be recovered of whatever he thinks of.
The bartender leaves him alone, and he thanks God silently once he was by himself again. But he was abandoned with his thoughts again.
Brown eyes
Something about those two words makes him feel his heartbeat again. He actually has imagery in his head and not just blurry colors from the result of the stage lights.
The song that was playing was an explicit song of a familiar language. He's heard it before, the language, some words of his dialect. It was very amatory he could tell, although he doesn't ever relate to the songs, he actually felt himself getting in rhythm with it. He decides he will make an exception with this one song, knowing the message completely, but he honestly feels he would do whatever the song was communicating.
He thought about it for a bit, the song. It talked about taking it slow with perhaps an attractive partner. Slow like Panchito never was used to when on the topic. He was a quick and "right in there" kind of dude, at the moment. He thinks "at the moment" because he never knows when his tastes might change, when he could change his mind.
Brown eyes
He opened his eyes in an alarm. Although his eyes were wide open, he still saw whatever his brain was trying to show him. He saw indeed, brown eyes, but surrounded by luscious green… fur? No, feathers, there was no way he could be thinking of another species other than an avian.
He doesn't know who he is thinking of. His mind was now senseless of thinking, his brain giving him whatever it thinks it needs to give him. But, why was it showing him eyes? Why did he keep seeing brown eyes?
They were a specific kind of brown, but all brown eyes were like that. All colors were specific and Panchito cursed at himself for getting irritated over something so small and off-topic as that. The eyes were brown, but, with red. Not sinister red, the type that replicates blood or the insight of war and crisis.
It was red you feel protected around, like a guest at a kind elder's house. It was just Panchito's experience though, knowing an older relative's house colors by heart, having a nice red painted inside the dining room. He feels guilty for forgetting the family member's name, he even wrote a god damn song about his family, yet he can't remember.
He tries to memorize the childish song's lyrics. He knows the song was meant to teach American children the reason for some Mexicans having extended names. He sang it to his nephew once, he enjoyed it.
Brown eyes
"I get it!" he yells from the top of his lungs, his voice scratched. He achieved the attention of others sitting at the bar. He ignored them, sinking his face back into his resting arms to think straight and focus. Focus on whatever his mind was trying to show him.
He saw the eyes and feathers, that was it. He grunted impatiently, really trying his hardest to gather more of what he needed to see. He saw red and blue glow ere him. It wasn't the lights of the bar, his eyes were fully shut. No, this was from his mind.
Okay; brown eyes, green feathers, and the colors blue and red. This could mean anything, so Panchito tried to find the words. He first thought of Amazona, for some reason. He didn't know why that was his first thought, but it was. He made the most of it and tried to associate it with the forests and temples of the Amazon. Really beautiful sights, he knows. He kept the pictures he took when he toured there.
There were so many birds there, colorful ones. He didn't want to see any more colors though, or any bright ones. He thought he was approaching a seizure the more colors he saw.
Then he saw black. He is now annoyed, was that all? There was something, he knew it, although he also knew he was very far from knowing exactly what it was. He just needed more time, but he wasn't all about time, the kind of person he is. It just wasn't him.
He almost put his head up again until he saw colors pop up again. He puts his head down immediately, really pressuring himself to see what he needs to see.
He saw a black umbrella.
Then he knew.
"José?"
The brown eyes of his faraway friend weren't the focal points anymore, instead, it was his body. The way it sways to the music of the bar, his red and blue tail feathers swinging back and forth with him. He had his same uniform on, hat tilt with his beak keeping it on his head. He didn't have his signature cigar in his mouth or hand, he was just swinging his umbrella.
Panchito's eyes were open, still seeing José dancing in his vision. He went slower, Panchito focusing on the parrot's hips, face hot with his chest and stomach. His tails flinched and his pants were tight.
The rooster seemed to become himself again, tossing money at the bartender and running out of the bar. He ran away down the street, the music fading, nausea rising. He wasn't gonna be weak for José, he refused to be. Not for his friend, no matter how huge the desire.
Brown eyes. Green feathers with the contrasting red and blue on his tail. The uniform, yellow gloves, hat, black tie, and umbrella.
"I'm in love."