People were saying they'd rather that I post here. So, personally for me, as long as people are reading this and there are people who would ahve a harder time reading in AO3 and tumblr. Porque no? Thanks for the feedback! Ughh it just frustrated me that when I copy and paste, the whole coding of the chapter fonts, italics, bolds and shit all show up :p

Anyway, I'm on tumblr rn as TundrainAfrica. You can follow me for some shit posting and probably one shots and updates? Dunno but yeah, I'd probably follow you back I'm hungry for anything Coco :D

Maybe it was because of the shock. Maybe it was because of the pain. Maybe it was because of the disappointment.

He couldn't tell exactly why but as he listened to Hector and Imelda stories about their everyday life in the Land of the Dead, he knew he wasn't feeling as excited or interested as he had expected to be when he did finally meet them again.

He had dreamt of seeing Hector, Imelda, Mama Coco and everyone else for a long time and silently scolded himself for not being genuinely interested when Imelda told him about how everyone requested Hector played Remember Me during that years sunrise spectacular, how they had stolen to some private space and Hector played it for his daughter Coco instead. He felt guilty for not feeling relieved when they told him that Mama Coco was doing fine and she was actually very happy being able to once again dance after having spent years in a wheelchair and more years, hiding the urge to dance from her family.

Maybe if he was a bit more into the conversation he would have asked questions like why Mama Coco wasn't there as well or what they were doing there in the first place. His replies to their many stories though felt and sounded automatic. The laugh he made when Imelda told Miguel about when they performed together in the plaza was robotic, even when she told him about Tia Victoria who had tried to dance along but having grown up with no music and sense of rhythm had spectacularly failed or about the crash course on dancing Mama Coco had given Tia Victoria during the Sunrise Spectacular.

Imelda and Hector had noticed that he wasn't as excited to see them and Miguel knew that. He wasn't asking the questions he himself thought he would have asked if he saw them again. They had asked him about his life, how was the family, how was everyone coping with the lifting of the music ban, more importantly, how was everyone after Mama Coco died. He had tried his best to sound enthusiastic but in the end, his replies were one worded and half hearted. They had tried to ask follow up questions but his lack of enthusiasm had become infectious.

His ancestors had subdued their gestures and tones. There was a point where Hector was talking about how he had given Coco the biggest hug when she finally arrived in the land of the dead. Miguel had expected him to hold his hands outstretched but he had limited himself to moving his hands in tune with his words. What made him feel a little worse was the gradual yet apparent loss of enthusiasm in his voice. Imelda as well had refrained from holding Miguel and the latter could see it in the way that every now and then she would put her hands in front of him as if she wanted to place them on his shoulders or his head only to pull back as if she sensed the discomfort and the tension and realized it.

Miguel had noticed those small movements and knew he had to brush away his discomfort, ask questions, cherish this time he had with them but how he felt wasn't something he could easily brush away, it felt like an elephant in the room that has been there from the start, impossible to kick out.

There was one way though. It took Miguel a few minutes and some more time half heartedly listening to Hector's stories to realize that there was one question that he wanted to ask. It may kick the elephant out but it felt risky.

Why can't you take me now? He really wanted to ask. It sounded inappropriate though. He remembered the week after Mama Coco had just died. He had wanted to ask Mama Elena what they were going to do with her rocking chair or her things but it sounded insensitive. That time, there was no reason to be insensitive, no one was mourning, no one was dying yet but that one question felt almost taboo.

"Miguel, you've been quiet." Imelda commented. The wording may have been wrong but the timing was definitely wrong. Miguel was in the middle of ransacking his brain for the right words and dealing with the guilt of not feeling happy to see them. When Imelda had finally commented on his discomfort, the feelings he had denied since a while ago became real and Miguel felt like he was at fault, he was a bad person for not being happy to see them.

It felt like she was blaming him. It was almost instinct how his mind had decided to play victim. Hector and Imelda were selfish. They wanted him to stay, even when his life wouldn't amount to anything, when he could live his whole life only half the human he was. They wanted to deprive them of that painless nirvana in the land of the dead and were only mocking him through the stories they were telling him. You're going to have to go through hell before you get to join us.

"Hey, are you okay?" Hector asked, stopping his story midway. "I thought you'd be happy to see us." He joked, a horrible attempt to mask his worry.

"No. I'm not." He managed to say. For some reason, admitting just that felt even just a bit liberating but what else could he say after that?

"I know what happened is a bit stressful for you. This in between dimension is scary but this isn't how…"Imelda had tried to put her arm around Miguel. That only helped to agitate the boy a little more.

This isn't how it's supposed to go? This isn't how I'm supposed to die? What was supposed to happen then? You won't help me get out of this?

Imelda's tone was comforting, consoling. It was as if he was helpless as if there was nothing else she could do to help him. Or she didn't want to. They didn't want to.

"Do you even want to help me?" Miguel violently brushed his great great grandmother's comforting hand away from his shoulder. "All you two have been talking about since a while ago is how good you've been having it in the Land of the Dead. No progress. No help. You haven't even tried to get me out of this."

"Believe me Miguel. We're trying. It's not as easy as-" She pressed.

"Take me back to the land of the dead. I don't wanna go back to Santa Cecilia… I want to die."

Imelda instinctively widened her eyes surprised then narrowed her eyes soon after. In most cases, he would have cowered at seeing his great great grandmother narrow her eyes like that. With his whole body shaking in anger, all it was doing was making him more angry. She looked accusing as if it was his fault he didn't want to go back. She looked like she was going to disagree with him, maybe even gang up on him with Hector. "Do you understand what you're saying?"

"Hey hey… Mijo… what are you thinking? You said it during Dia de los Muertos that you wanted to be a musician and perform in many places. You can't do it dead." Hector said, straining to keep his tone lively. He handed the guitar to Miguel.

"I can be a musician in the land of the dead. I don't have to do it in Santa Cecilia. No body to limit me, I won't be tired, I won't need to sleep, go to the bathroom. I'll just be playing music." Miguel explained as he grabbed the guitar and played a few random tabs for emphasis.

Hector flinched and Miguel realized that he had plucked the strings on the guitar too hard.

"Miguel… Dying and being in the land of the dead isn't just playing music all the day long. You lose things when you cross. When you go there, there's no turning back." Hector explained patiently. "There are people you'll leave behind, opportunities you could have had. Also It's not like this is a once in a lifetime choice. Eventually you're all going to end up in the land of the dead anyway. You should enjoy your life on earth for what it is first."

"How can you enjoy life stuck in a body that needs to eat, sleep. That gets sick, feels pain…" Miguel argued. "When you're in the land of the dead, you never get sick… when you fall, you can get back together within seconds.

"Because life isn't all about that mijo, there are experienced, challenges, there are people to meet, a family to live for. Your parents must be worried about you. Baby Coco is going to need her big brother." Imelda added. She put her hands on Miguel's shoulders.

I survived without a big brother. Miguel thought to himself as he twisted away from Imelda's grip. Coco had Prima Abel, prima Rosa, Benny and Manny. She had a mother and a father. What would one less brother do?. "Mama and papa can always make another child if they're feeling lonely. It's not too hard." Miguel echoed Rodrigo's words. He looked at Mama Imelda as he said it. He watched as her jaws dropped. She looked like she was just punched in the face.

Hector was the one who went in between them with that comment. "I can't believe I'm hearing this from you. Only a few months ago, you wrote a song about how much you love your family and now you're comparing having a child to working some sort of factory job?"

"What do you know?" Don't tell me you believed that when you're the one who left your family just like that. He wanted to add but he stopped himself at the last minute.

"Making and raising a child is not at all like making another pair of shoes!" He said without stopping to acknowledge Miguel's had bent over as if he wanted to listen closely to whatever explanation, Miguel had about how he felt that way. Miguel did not see good intentions though. At that moment, the bending of his body and the fact that he had slowed his speech down, felt almost demeaning and Miguel's anger only grew. They're thinking I'm stupid. They wouldn't listen to me because to them, I'm a kid, I don't know better. It wasn't anything new. Primo Abel and Prima Rosa were the same when he was growing up. They always made fun of him for being slow when they played in the forest. When they started working in the shoe shop, they thought they were better and smarter, demeaning him for being too young to work in the workshop. As he thought about it, he realized that his cousins were only the tip of the iceberg. His parents had kept him out of many conversations because they were having "adult talks." For a long time, his family had scolded him for hanging out in the mariachi plaza or even just listening to simple music maybe because they were smarter, naturally better people and according to them, he didn't know better. The worst though was the way his parents had stood in silence, no, his whole family had stood in silence as he was shamed by his abuelita and she had destroyed the guitar that he spent months putting together. Things had gotten better since the music ban but his heart still ached as he recalled that last scene and it only fed the anger inside him. Why would he want to go back to a family like that, a family who destroyed things he worked hard to create, a family who watched silently as he was tormented? He almost felt stupid for writing a love song for a family like that, what was he thinking. Papa Hector was no better or he may have even been worse. He was getting mad at Miguel for treating his family like that yet, long ago he had the gall to leave his own family. The hypocrisy of it all only fueled the anger inside him.

That one comment which he had stopped himself from saying was at the tip of his tongue and before he could stop himself, he had blurted it out."What do you know about raising children? You didn't even raise your own!"

"Miguel!" Imelda's voice rang out and Miguel jumped in surprise. That was the first time he had heard her voice like that, a distinct mix of hurt, stress, anger and surprise.

Miguel was trembling in anger. He watched Hector's face change from one for anger to shame. If he wasn't a skeleton, Miguel could have sworn he would have seen tears in his eyes.

"You're right, I don't know anything about raising children. Coco was very young when I left, I didn't see her grow up, wasn't with her when she turned 15, when she got married.I tried to go home but ended up trapped in the land of the dead against my will. I was alone. I missed my wife, I missed my daughter. I was wandering while my family must have thought I abandoned them. You know , compared to me, you have a choice. A choice I was never given. You have a choice not to wander through the streets in the land of the dead like I did, a choice to be with your family, the people you love and you're taking it for granted because you don't want to live within the limits of a life and a body. When I first died. The last thing I was thinking about was how good it felt to not get sick. That's nothing Miguel. I can't even describe how much I regretted even leaving in the first place, how lonely I felt. How the regret, sadness-"Hector stopped, as if he ran out of words. I don't know how it feels to raise a child but I know how painful it is to abandon and to be abandoned by your family… That's why, I may not know how it feels to raise a child and for the longest time, I may have known how it felt to have a family but I've experienced enough to know what you're thinking is wrong. Hate me if you want Miguel but I won't take you back." Hector looked like he wanted to say more but stopped himself. "I need some time to think." He walked out of the room, dragging his legs as if they were weights

Imelda followed him silently with her gaze before looking back at Miguel, her face a mixture of hurt and anger. "Say what you want, I won't take you back either. You have no idea what you're asking for mijo."

"He's right. You guys are selfish. You don't know how it feels to be lying there in a hospital bed, not being able to breathe, to move. I haven't felt this good in so long and you want to take that away from me?" As he imagined what he said, he couldn't help but feel more adamant about returning to his body. He felt good, he could move freely, play the guitar, talk without running out of breath, without feeling a pounding pain but it's going to all change if he goes back. He's going to be in pain. Why would anyone make a decision to hurt themselves? It just wasn't natural.

"Because they want someone else to be happy. Humans do this for the people they love all the time mijo."

Miguel looked up in surprise when he realized he had accidentally said his thoughts out loud.

"Why do you think mothers give birth? Why do you think I gave up music?" Why do-"

As his family started to gang up on him though, he knew he had to be strong for himself "Well when you banned music, it didn't just hurt yourself. You hurt me and Mama Coco too. How can you say you did it for love, when your decision just hurt us anyway?"

Miguel had looked away even before he finished his sentence. There was a part of him screaming at the back of his mind as he fought with his great great grandparents, telling him to apologize, to listen and then and there that part was taking over. He didn't think it was possible but he felt a quiver in his lips, a sign of vulnerability and that wasn't something he wanted to show. That might even spell the difference between them forcing him back into his body or not. He ran out of the room.

Rodrigo, wherever you are, please help me. I don't wanna go back. He had said that last part with so much conviction. Maybe, he was trying to convince himself that he did not want to go back. He brushed that thought away and focused on the task at hand. He had to find Rodrigo. He remembered that Hector had left and might still be around. He still found himself running carelessly in the hallways, a part of him hoping Hector would run into him and talk him out of it. He didn't run into him. He didn't even remember his Mama Imelda calling out to him as he ran out of the room. Those two things he noted, only gave him motivation to run faster. Maybe it was out of spite. Maybe it was determination to still run into Hector.

He continued running, the hospital doors started to go by faster and faster. He went down a few stairs and up a few. How do I cross? Miguel was utterly lost. The word echoed inside his head and that reminded him. He had ran too fast that it was only after running countless corridors and staircases did he realize he had lost his guitar too. He must have dropped it somewhere.

He slowed down, ready to retrace his steps only to be pulled into one of the many rooms by something or someone.

"I was worried about you."

It wasn't Hector's voice.

"You just disappeared and I woke up…" Miguel said, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room.

He could make out the familiar shape of the Rodrigo's head and the tiny movement of its contours as he shook his head.

"Thank god you're safe though. I thought you would have fallen for an illusion."

"Illusion?" Miguel frowned. The only notable thing he had seen was Papa Hector and Mama Imelda. Meeting those two had looked real. The music Hector played sounded real. The guitar he had plucked had felt real.

"I didn't mean to leave you alone but I ended up caught in my own illusion as well. This dimension between life and death is dangerous."

"Wait, how is it dangerous?" Miguel asked. He had imagined monsters and rogue alebrijes when Rodrigo said the word dangerous. As he recalled his whole experience though, he knew he didn't see any.

Rodrigo shook his head. "You know, the most dangerous things are the ones that don't even look dangerous. I don't want you falling for anything so I'll tell you now. There are people who embrace death and there are people who embrace life. The unlucky souls who want to go back to their body and continuing living their life, even when their body is to sick, reject death's invitation. They become angry spirits, go insane from trying to hold on to their body, to their life. They get jealous of those who can still go back to their body and those who can still cross after missing their own chance and create illusions to keep them here in this in between because you know, misery loves company. Unless they've been here for a long time like me, people tend to fall for these many illusions."

That's what it was… Miguel thought to himself. They had wanted him to stay, made him feel guilty for wanting to leave and for a while it had worked. He shivered as he remembered how realistic that illusion was and silently thanked his own pride and convictions for giving himself the courage to reject it. Of course, the real Mama Imelda and Papa Hector would have gladly welcomed me to the Land of the Dead.

"Don't worry, usually someone from the land of the dead is sent here to guide the lost spirits."

"Like an alebrije?" Miguel remembered Dante and only then did he realized how much he missed Dante and how much he needed him then and there.

"Alebrijes can't enter this in between, but you can say they're something like that… In America, they're called the Grim reaper. In Mexico, they're called Santa Muerte. Universally, they're called Death. It's the same job, they're assigned to an area where lost spirits usually sprout up, war zones, car pile ups, hospitals and make sure the souls are able to cross safely. Funny though, the one here disappeared a few days ago. We got along well, he wasn't authorized to let me cross but he said he'd keep me company until I can."

"Wait, so how can we cross without him? "

"The truth is, I knew how to cross. I just needed to find the right companion." He held Miguel's hands in between his. "Close your eyes. Are you ready?"

"Wait, what do you mean right companion?" Miguel asked. If he knew death, he must have met many other people who could have crossed with him. Why did he need Miguel in particular?

"I'll explain everything once we cross. Trust me Miguel. I just want what's best for you. I mean, what's better than the painless embrace of death?"

Anything could sound good with the right tone. Even something as ominous as death could sound good with the a combination of the right choice of words and tones. With how Rodrigo said it, his former notions about death, the commitment, the loss, the goodbye was completely gone and all he could see was the painlessness, the embrace and the liberation.

"I'll ask you again. Are you ready to cross?"

Crossing meant he won't end up a lost soul. Crossing meant no more pain, Crossing meant understanding everything.

Crossing was good.

"I'm ready."

So my sister stumbled upon my a03 account and my embarrassing hidden life has been revealed to like two people in my family. My hurt comfort fics that all consist of hurt/comfort/hospital and something in between have been unearthed along with my affinity for these types of fics hence my bookmarks and favorites. I don't know if my other siblings or parents will find out but IM GOING ON LOCKDOWN.

Jk no, I mean I have my traumas. I used to write a long time ago, in some notebook. I was a shit writer. My sister found it and made fun of EVERYTHING, awkward conversations, shitty writing, "leukemia doesn't work like that!" And I swore off of writing until I was finally allowed to make a fanfiction I made shitty stories in secret.

Anyway, yeah, it's been years since my first story. I probably grew up, hopefully my writing too and surprisingly, when my sister confronted me about my fic, she wasn't berating my shitty narration or awkward conversations. SHE BERATED MY CHOICE OF SICKNESS.

I quote "I am so disappointed in you, if you wanted to torture him, you should have given him small cell lung cancer." She's a medical student so she was mentioning all these illnesses he could have gotten which are way more painful. But they won't fit for how I wanted this story to end so I pushed away the ideas.

Maybe, one day, I'd write a simple terminal illness fic for the fluff and hurt and comfort of it while reflecting on the importance of life, family and relationships again instead of writing about kidnappings and crazy men named Rodrigo.

Now that I think about it, I actually want more hurt Miguel (or Hurt Hector tbh). So I actually might consider my sisters suggestion. I'm still recovering though from sheer embarrassment of her finding my account.

Btw, where's the coco fandom at? I mean the Memes and funny textposts and gif sets? I'm legit hungry for those but I'm reluctant to make a tumblr or Reddit because I made so many crazy decisions that any spare time is just me procrastinating. But yes, do tell me. I like procrastinating with memes when I'm not procrastination by writing fanfiction. Hehe

Anyway, sorry for the long rant.

Btw, if you're a guest and you haven't subscribed to my story, I should update every Friday. The reason I didn't update on Friday this time and made it Thursday is because I won't have a laptop this weekend.

School just started so we're still pretty chill and I was able to finish a good amount of writing. I think I'll be able to maintain the every Friday for a while. If a shit storm happens, I'll still try to update on a Friday with a message saying my shit storm has started but if I don't, I'm probs drowning dangerously in school work.

Anyway, Tell me what you think!