HAH okay here we are ;w; First off um... wow I'm glad you guys love this fic so much right off the bat *crie* Seriously thank you so much. ALSO I am writing some adventure tales from when Joaquín and María were traveling in Mexico. I'll start posting those here soon enough, probably upload them in between chapters.
Anyways read on, thanks again uwu. (ALSO if you guys don't already know, go to my tumblr blog (ceata88) and go to the tag BoL-Ghost-AU to see some rad fanart already like god dang (okay bye))
Manolo's dead? Did she hear that correctly? Her throat was already going dry.
"S-sorry Señor." Joaquín stuttered. "Did you say-"
"Did no one in town tell you?" The bullfighter's glare darted between them.
"N-no." María breathed. "When... when did..."
"A little over a year ago." Carlos' gaze turned distant.
A year? Manolo had been dead that long? Her entire body started turning numb as she thought about all that time spent laughing and adventuring. Their best friend had been dead and they were none the wiser.
"And you two just got back? Judging by all the fanfare."
"S-Señor-"
"Save it, sympathies ran out last year."
"We had no idea."
"I imagine not, running around the desert for two years. I suppose it's a good thing you two returned safely."
María wasn't unaware of the cold edge of this tone, but she couldn't say anything. Her arms wrapped around her stomach in an attempt to stop her shaking.
"Now if you'll excuse me, it's late."
"W-wait! But what happened to him?"
Carlos' glare returned and he stepped back. "He's dead." He snapped the last word before slamming the door.
As that sound echoed in the back of her mind María's legs refused to hold her up. However, her knees never hit the ground. Joaquín's arm wrapped around her stomach and pulled her back.
"María?"
She couldn't say anything. Her vision was going hazy as she started to pretend this was all a nightmare. Manolo couldn't be dead. He couldn't just disappear from her life. What was she supposed to do without him? Her mind swirled with memories and was only brought back when Joaquín pulled her into a hug. Her cheek pressed against cold sharp medals and made the stinging in her eyes far more obvious.
When the first tear escaped she couldn't stop herself from sobbing. It wasn't quiet either, her wails only muffled by Joaquín's uniform. He didn't say anything, or do anything, he just held her and occasionally ran his hand through her hair.
Soon enough her throat started to hurt and she was forced to quiet down, but the tears didn't stop.
When her voice became nothing but a soft whimper Joaquín finally spoke up. "I should get you home."
Home? What did her "home" have for her apart from an angry father and grey walls?
But the only reply she could manage was a light shaking of her head.
"I know," he whispered. "But it's late and... I'll be there first thing in the morning."
She just shook her head again. The idea of trying to sleep by herself terrified her now more than ever. In fact she could barely recall what it was like to lay in such a large bed on her own.
"Come on," He stepped back and tried to pull her along but her legs still weren't working properly. His arm caught her again and her nails dug into his uniform.
"Sorry," Her voice cracked.
"Shush, it's all right." Joaquín lifted her tiny frame with ease. One arm rested behind her shoulders and the other under her knees. His grip was tight and when she started shaking again he just pulled her closer.
María's head rested against his shoulder. As uncomfortable as the uniform was it made her feel safer. Bit by bit her shaking stopped and her tears became silent.
But they continued, and rather than try to bury her face she just stared up at the sky. Stars were everywhere but there were so few of them now, swallowed by the street lights.
"The sky seems so dark." She muttered.
"Hm?" Joaquín glanced up.
"It just... it's so bright out in the desert. You could see everything. I... I wanted to show him someday. I thought he'd like to write a song about it."
She wished she could stop thinking about it, but that was senseless. Who knew how long it'd be before she could get control of her head. Perhaps it'd be easier if she could talk about it but Joaquín's expression was oddly firm. He didn't seem sad, but that artificial smile hadn't crossed his face even once. He just stared straight forward as he walked down the street.
But maybe he was right. Maybe she should focus on getting some sleep and think about it in the morning.
Her house came into view and she started to feel numb all over again. Would everyone still be there? What would they say? As they drew closer she couldn't hear the noisy chatter that a party usually carried. Although the lights were on it seemed rather quiet.
"Do you want me to take you upstairs?"
"And give my dad something else to nag me about this evening? No I'll be okay just... give me a minute."
Her fingers traced circles around the medals on his chest and she took long, slow breaths. If nothing else she needed to compose herself long enough to make it to her bedroom. She rested her head closer to his neck, hoping the sound of his breathing would help her relax.
Instead she found it was incredibly unsteady. His heart hammered away in his chest to a point she couldn't believe he was standing so still.
"You can put me down now." She shifted her legs. There was no telling if she could stand properly but she may as well try.
Joaquín lowered her back onto the stone street, keeping one arm around her shoulders as she found her footing on her terrible new shoes. It took her a moment to figure out her balance on them again but at least her legs were steady.
"Try and get some rest." He nudged her toward the door. "I'll be back first thing in the morning."
"I should say the same to you." María turned around and put a hand on his cheek. "You're not really okay either, are you."
His eyes searched hers but they never looked away. "Don't worry about me right now."
She frowned at him but didn't have the energy to argue. She could in the morning.
They could talk about this.
Her hand trailed down to his chest and rested on one of his bandoliers. Only now did she see how fiercely his medal was glowing underneath.
"Hang in there, okay?" He pressed his lips together and took her hand off his chest. Before she could reply he leaned forward and gently kissed her forehead.
"Joaquín-"
"Mija!"
She spun around and almost lost her balance on the uneven stone. Her father stood there in the doorway, eyes wide.
"Papá," She wasn't sure what to say to him. Was he angry? Confused?
"It's late mija, you should be inside."
"I was just bringing her home general." Joaquín pushed one arm behind his back while the other tipped his sombrero. "It's um, been a long day."
Is that how he put it?
She glanced back at him to finally see that false smile on his face.
"It certainly has," Her father gestured to the door. "Do you plan to go home?"
Joaquín nudged María forward. "Ah, yeah, I don't want to bother you with that sort of thing. I'll be back in the morning."
She spun around and tried to say something but her throat was going dry again. Where did this sudden panic come from?
"Good night, Joaquín." Her father took her hand and pulled her inside.
Don't go. Her mind was suddenly screaming. The farther she got from her friend the faster her heart beat.
"I'll see you later María." He offered her a more genuine smile, but his eyes seemed hollow.
Something about those words made her feel nauseous. Don't go. Her mind kept screaming. It didn't stop until her father finally shut the door.
"You said you wouldn't be long." He turn toward her. "With Joaquín gone too, people were starting to gossip."
María bit her lip. She may have been too tired to argue with Joaquín but she was never too tired to argue with her dad.
"You're the one who wants me to marry him." She muttered.
"In order to protect San Angel, yes." Posada sighed. "Honestly mija, don't you want to keep this place safe?"
"I can keep it safe." She snapped. "Or did you really just assume I was wearing all those medals for looking pretty."
"But Joaquín-"
"Is just as good as I am." She stomped her foot. "Besides, I ran off with him once. Why on earth would you think I wouldn't do it again?"
"Mija, your place is here." He smacked his hook on the floor.
"Then give me a reason to stay." She screamed and headed for the stairs. "Because it's my duty? Because it's my home? Nothing about this place feels like home, papá. Especially not now that-"
She froze on the steps. Her grip on the railing tightened to the point her fingers hurt.
"María?" Her father stood close to the stairs.
"Why didn't you tell me?" She lowered her voice.
"Pardon?"
"Why didn't you tell me that Manolo died?" She spun around.
The man froze, his mouth forming a perfect O as he tried to find the words.
"I don't care what you thought of him, did it not cross your mind that Joaquín and I would want to know that?"
"It was a year ago, mija." He took a step back and fiddled with his hook. "It honestly skipped my mind."
"Because you didn't care." She muttered. "Apparently no one in this town did."
"María-"
"What happened?" She wasn't about to let him come up with excuses now. She didn't give a damn what they were.
"I don't know the details." He glanced at the floor. "He was doing training and there was... an accident. The bull's horn went through his stomach." He pointed to his left side.
María knew the image she pictured probably didn't even come close but it made her legs weak again.
How unfair was that? How cruel that he'd die doing something he never wanted in the first place. Her anger started to boil up again but she had no idea where to direct it. At her father for a number of reasons? At Carlos for forcing that life on his son?
Or at herself for leaving him here by himself.
"I'm sorry." Her father said. "But it's... well you know... with that occupation..."
María flinched and gritted her teeth.
"You shouldn't dwell on it mija it's-"
"Not dwell on it?" She screamed and almost jumped over the railing. "I loved him papá, or did you decide to forget about that too? Maybe he wasn't famous or a soldier but he was a good person and you... You and everyone else in this town practically want to spit on his grave? You... you're disgusting, horrible! You're the whole reason I left this damned city."
María gripped the railing again and forced herself up the stairs. Her father was shouting after her but she ignored him. It was too damn much right now.
"Good night," She finally screamed before slamming her bedroom door shut.
She leaned against it for a moment and listened to see if her father would try and come knocking. When he never did she pushed away from it and stumbled to her bed. Her heels almost gave out from under her and she growled in frustration. As soon as she sat down she tore them off and tossed them across the room. One smacked against the wall and the other hit one of the drawers on her dresser.
María glanced at the mirror. Her hair was now even messier in it's pony tail and she hated this dress. Her nails scratched against her scalp as she tore out the tie in her hair. She could hear the seams on the dress snap as she frantically tried to pull it off. Where was her sword? She'd cut it off if she had to.
Then she paused in her efforts when she remembered that apart from the dress she arrived in, all her other clothes were still with Joaquín.
She flattened the material back down, glaring at it all the while. Soon enough she'd have them back and she could burn this one.
María played with her free hair for a moment and glanced back at the dresser. One of the drawers had slid open a bit from the impact. She shuffled over to it and peered inside.
All of her photos were still there. Her fingers curled around the edge of the drawer as she debated whether or not to look at them.
Next thing she knew they were in her hands as she collapsed onto her bed.
The first picture was actually a portrait of her mother that was sent to her a few years ago. She managed to smile at it now remembering the times they had met up while her and Joaquín travelled.
Her smile fell as she went to the second one. It had been when she was only eight years old. Her, Joaquín, and Manolo were all working hard to clean up the plaza after she had let all the pigs out. It was the only way she was getting out of having to go to Spain. Chuy stood behind them, trying to eat a leftover sombrero.
As the pictures went on she practically watched them grow up. A photo from María's birthday party, when Manolo got his first traje de luces–looking as uncomfortable as always– and of course that day Joaquín achieved his first rank. There were pictures of them together, apart, with family, but all of them had a smile on their face, even if it was a lopsided grin.
The last one was a photo of her and Manolo. She remembered when this photo had been taken. Joaquín had snuck a bunch of camera equipment to the bull ring to get this picture. María sat on the fence and Manolo leaned against it with his guitar in hand. Both of them were staring at each other, their eyes focused on nothing else.
"I love you too much... to live without you loving me back."
María was certain it was just a memory but his voice echoed so loudly in her head. She leapt off her bed and ran over to the balcony, tossing open the glass doors.
Nothing greeted her but the ghostly street light that muffled out the stars.
"I love you too much... heaven's my witness and this is a fact."
Even in the empty night air the voice didn't stop. Her hands lightly touched the cold railing as she stared down at the street.
"I know I belong... when I sing this song... There's love above love and it's ours 'cause I love you too much."
Tears stung her eyes again. The stone road became nothing but a swirling mass of grey as she leaned on the railing for support.
"Heaven knows your name and I've been praying... to have you come here by my side... without you a part of me is missing..."
She covered her mouth to muffle her sobs. What on earth could have been going through his mind that following year after she left. Did he feel betrayed? Alone? Did he still sing this song into the night air hoping she would hear it and return home?
"I'm sorry..." She spoke through her fingers. "I was being so selfish. I didn't think you'd..."
She was an idiot, in so many ways, and now it was too late to give any kind of apology. Manolo deserved so much in his life and it had been taken from him. In that last year she hadn't been there for him at all.
María plowed through her memories. She tried desperately to remember the last conversation they had. He had actually been singing to her below her balcony hadn't he? She stared at his face, his eyes looking at her with wide admiration. Such a beautiful tune, such powerful words, it was as dazzling as always. She had payed extra careful attention this time, knowing she may not see him again in a long time.
"Get home guitarrista. I have to sleep."
"As you wish, mi amor."
She giggled and blew him a kiss. "I'll see you later."
Her stomach dropped. It had been a lie. Her last words to him had been a lie.
A breeze blew the hair off her shoulders and made her shiver. She thought about curling up in bed but refused to believe it would be much warmer.
She felt so alone and the almost empty sky only made it worse. She didn't want to be alone.
So there was only one thing to do.
Without thinking on it for too long she climbed up on the railing and leapt over to the lamp post. Her hands slipped on the metal but managed to find a grip and she climbed down. Lifting her skirt she took off into the night, bare feet slapping against stone.
Oh well, it wasn't the first time.
Joaquín couldn't breathe. The second he took off his uniform jacket and tossed it onto his old dresser everything hit him at once. Manolo's death, Carlos' expression and tone, and María's heart-wrenching wails wouldn't stop bouncing around in his head. If not for the medal he knew he couldn't possibly hold it together, especially in front of María.
But he had to. As much as he missed his friend already, as hollow as he felt, he knew María must be hurting even more. She was in love with Manolo after all.
She had been strong and held him up so many times during their trip. It was about time he returned the favor. He could deal with only crying behind closed doors. He was used to that sort of thing.
In spite of the tightness in his chest and his panicked breathing he refused to pick that medal back up. Better that he find some way to vent this emotion while he could after all. Still, he was becoming dizzy and had to sit on the bed. He clutched the sides of his head and tried to force his lungs to slow down. But now the tears were getting in the way and he moved to cover his eyes.
It was too much.
Finally he gave up. His body curled over and he openly sobbed into his hands.
Manolo was dead and he had no idea why. All he knew is that it happened while he had been out frolicking in the desert with his friend's girlfriend. That thought along made him wish someone would knee him in the stomach. Then as his mind ran over the things he and María had done... it was disgusting. He was disgusting.
Joaquín wished desperately that Manolo could still be here, if only to kick his ass. It was the least he deserved. He could practically hear his voice now.
"I can't believe you two just ran off like that. You didn't do anything weird, right Joaquín?"
The daydream was cut off when he heard a pounding on his door. He snapped up and rapidly wiped the tears off his face as he headed out of his bedroom. Who on earth could be here at this hour?
He only had one guess.
When his hands weren't getting rid of the tears fast enough he lifted up his shirt to get rid of the rest. He may not have the medal now but he had to keep it together.
Joaquín opened the main doors and indeed, it was María. She had taken her hair down and it seemed to be almost in the same mess as it was when they arrived. The collar of her dress seemed torn and looking down further he noticed she didn't have any shoes on.
Then he met her eyes which were red and puffy, plenty of tears still on her face.
"Marí-" Her name never even left his mouth before she barreled into him. Her arms flew around him and her nails dug into his back. He could already feel fresh tears soaking into his shirt. "M-María what are you doing here?"
"M'sorry." She stuttered between sobs. "I didn't want to be alone."
He returned the embrace and pulled her even closer. He knew that feeling all to well. Still, no decent words of reassurance came to his mind. If he didn't think of something soon he was sure he'd start crying along with her.
A breeze blew in from the door and she shivered.
"Come on," He forced himself to let go so he could shut the door. "I'll try making some tea, at least."
When he turned around he found her hand on his cheek.
"Were you crying?" Her glossy eyes searched his.
Joaquín opened his mouth to make an excuse but thought better of it. "Yeah, a bit, but don't worry about it."
"Joaquín-"
"Worry about yourself first." He brushed some of her hair behind her ear. "I can handle it... a lot better than I used to."
She frowned at him and after a moment he realized his hand was still in her hair.
"Ah, um, anyways would you like some tea?" He pulled it away.
"That sounds nice, yes." She wrapped her arms around herself.
Joaquín wasted no time showing her to the kitchen. It was surprisingly small considering the size of the rest of the house, a small wooden table in the center of it. He pulled out a chair for her, light the stove, then headed to one of the living rooms. Moving around kept him distracted at least.
After retrieving a blanket he returned the kitchen and wrapped it around her. She offered him a small smile but her distant eyes remained focused on the table.
"Almost wish I hadn't given Alfredo the week off." He tried to joke as he rummaged through the tea leaves. "I've never figured out how he does this."
"A week?"
"Yeah, I mean he's been looking after this empty house on his own for two years, he deserves a break."
"Does that mean you'll be doing the cleaning?"
Joaquín just shrugged as he searched for the teapot. "Might as well learn."
"Bleh."
Both of them spun around to see Chuy standing in the doorway. The pig yawned but practically galloped over to María's chair.
"Chuy!" She kneeled on the floor and scratched his ears. "Goodness, I'm sorry I didn't come and find you sooner. What... what's he doing in here?" She look at Joaquín.
"He just wandered in when I got home, from the stables. I didn't exactly have the energy to kick him out. I think he was sleeping on one of the sofas."
"Pff, I bet you enjoyed that didn't you." She scratched between his eyes.
The pig snorted and buried his head in her lap.
"Ay, I missed you so much." She leaned over and hugged him.
Joaquín let them have a moment as he filled up the kettle with water and set it on the warm stove. He still wasn't sure what to do with the tea leaves, but remembered enough from when Alfredo made it that it shouldn't taste awful.
As the water started to boil María spoke up. "Papá told me what happened."
Joaquín turned and watched her draw circles on Chuy's head. "Huh?"
"To Manolo, or at least what he knows."
Joaquín almost dropped the teapot but managed to rest it on the counter. "And... what was it?"
"An accident, while training. The bull got him in the stomach."
He shuddered and tried not to picture that image. He had to keep himself composed.
Still, something about that fact seemed off, but he couldn't put his finger on it.
The kettle's singing broke him out of his thoughts and he poured the hot water in to the teapot.
"Do you think it was quick?" María mumbled. "Like, do you think he was in pain?"
"I'm the worst person to ask that, honestly." He sighed as he watched the water change color.
"Do you wonder what he was thinking? Did he miss us?"
"Probably more than we missed him." Only when those words left his mouth did he realize how harsh they sounded.
María started to cry again.
"I'm sorry I-"
"Why didn't we take him with us?" Her voice was nothing but a whimper now. "We knew how much hated bullfighting we should have just taken him with us. Why was I so stupid? I didn't even ask."
"Hey, don't do that to yourself." He knelt down and wrapped an arm around her.
"Why not? I should have asked. I was only thinking about myself. We just left him with a note and barely even wrote to him. I didn't even care enough. I just assumed everything would be fine." She grabbed her hair and pulled at it. "I'm so stupid. I'm horrible I-"
Joaquín shoved her hands away and pulled her into his arms. "Don't do that to yourself." He spoke more firmly. "Neither of our hands are clean, but it's not like we could have predicted it either."
"What do you mean?"
"Come on María you... you weren't the only one being selfish. I never should have taken you with me to be honest. I never should have kept you away from home that long and I certainly shouldn't have..." He couldn't bring himself to say it. His mouth went dry.
"But I don't regret leaving." She said. "I don't regret that time spent with you but I... Joaquín, he died alone. I know his father loved him but outside of his family..."
Her voice gave way to tears again. Joaquín held her tighter and Chuy nuzzled closer.
"I hate this." She sobbed. "Why can't it just be a stupid nightmare?"
Joaquín didn't say anything. He gritted his teeth and tried to force back his own tears. In the end that was useless. He buried his face in her hair and let himself cry with her.
There was no telling how long they sat there, but eventually neither of them had the energy to cry anymore. When her shaking stopped he stroked her hair a few times before he stood up.
"Come on, can't let the tea get cold." His tug on her arm was gentle, but thankfully she stood as well.
He wiped away any left over tears before filling up the tea cups. He tried to distract himself by studying their strange patterns. Supposedly a lot of their dishes actually came from Germany. He grew up with them, but seeing them again after two years was a bit jarring.
The tea was thankfully still warm enough to let off steam. María clutched to the cup and held it close to her face. It almost looked like she'd fall asleep any second.
"I should get you back home after this." He said.
"No, can't I stay here?"
"What? María that's not- we're not out in the desert anymore."
"Please?" She looked up at him. "Besides you still have all my stuff."
"Oh right, damn." He sighed and stared at his reflection in the cup. "Fine, but I'm waking you up early enough to sneak back out. I really don't want to know what your dad will say if he catches you here."
"Who cares what he says." She growled. "He'll never be happy with anything I want to do, or who I am. He wants me to marry you and still lectures me about how to spend my time with you. I'll never be good enough for him." She muttered the last sentence.
Joaquín took a deep breath and sipped his tea. "Yeah, you're right, fuck him."
She gasped. "Joaquín!"
"What? That's what you were basically saying right? And that's what you basically said to me back then." Another sip. "We shouldn't have to waste our time on parents who want us to be something we're not."
"Here's to awful parents." She held out her tea cup, a small smile on her face.
He tapped his cup against hers before he took another sip.
The rest of the time spent in the kitchen was silent. Occasionally she would crouch down and pet Chuy again but when he'd sniff at her tea she was back up. At some point during it all she had nuzzled up against Joaquín. Without thinking he put the cup in his other hand and wrapped an arm around her.
She did start crying again, but Joaquín didn't respond apart from tightening his grip. The tears only lasted so long and her expression melted away to exhaustion.
"We really should sleep." He said, putting his empty cup on the counter.
"Like we always do?" She mumbled.
Joaquín didn't respond at first as he took her cup. He knew he should say no to that. There were so many reasons that habit needed to change.
But as he stared at her vacant eyes he just nodded.
Chuy followed them up the stairs and Joaquín could swear the pig was glaring at him every now and then. He offered María one of his mom's old night gowns to change into but she just said she'd sleep in her dress. It'd be gone by the morning anyways.
She tried to crawl under the covers the second she got to his room but he pulled her back up. Before she could protest and ask why Joaquín grabbed the brush off his night stand and ran it through the waves in her hair.
"Why do you have that in your room?" She almost laughed.
"Reminded me of my mom. It made me feel less alone at the time."
"And now?"
"And now... I hope it does the same for you."
She said nothing else. He could feel her nodding off under his touch and by the time he finished with a braid she collapsed onto the pillows. Not quite asleep, but very close. He pulled the covers over her before he climbed onto the other side of the bed. He tried to keep a good distance between them but eventually she rolled over in her sleep, tossing an arm over his waist.
He sighed but didn't make her move. That warmth always managed to keep the nightmares at bay.
Sorry Manolo. He thought as he drifted off. I guess I'm still being a bit selfish.
