Hector stared, anger bubbling up inside of him as he saw Ernesto walk into his apartment, wearing his usual sleazy smile and smart suit. Ernesto walked towards Imelda, arms open and smile widening.

"Ah, Imelda, you look wonderful!"

Imelda raised an eyebrow as Ernesto gave her the usual greeting peck.

"I'm only wearing a nightgown, Ernesto."

Ernesto merely shrugged and moved away, smiling at Coco, who just gave a small wave. Her eyes were trained on her father, who stood in the corner with his fists clenched.

Had Ernesto always hung on Imelda like that?

Imelda went and picked up Coco, kissing her on the cheek before setting her down again.

"Coco, amor, could you go get dressed and play in your room until Tio Ernesto and I are done talking?"

Coco nodded, knowing it was worthless to argue with her mother. She threw one last glance at her father-who offered the softest smile he could despite his anger-and turned and skipped back to her room, humming.

Imelda smiled after her and motioned Ernesto to follow her into the kitchen, where she began to make two cups of coffee. Placing Ernesto's cup in front of him, she leaned forward on the counter. Hector had followed them over, and he was now staring at Ernesto with a glare that surely would have killed him if Hector was not already dead.

And whose fault was that?

Ernesto raised his mug to Imelda and took a sip, wiping his moth with a napkin as Imelda fixed him with a inquisitive glance.

"So, why have you come here so early, Ernesto? Usually you would have at least given me the common courtesy of being fully dressed before stopping by."

Ernesto chuckled, a sound that sent chills and a fresh wave of fury over Hector. Dios, how dare he sit there and talk to her, laugh with her, speak with her?

Once again, the living were completely oblivious to his presence, and Ernesto leaned forward on his elbows and smiled at Imelda.

God, Hector hated that smile.

"I just wanted to check up on you, Imelda, my darling. Just wanted to see if you and Coco are still doing okay. You've both been through so much, and I worry about you."

Imelda raised an eyebrow, but Hector could still see the slight catch of her breath in her chest when Ernesto brought up the subject. Nevertheless, she answered, voice as calm and cool as ever.

"Well, that's sweet of you Ernesto, but we're doing just fine. I'm still working and Coco is happy and healthy, so we don't need anything else. We never did."

Hector had been about to take a step towards her, but her words had stopped him dead in his tracks and caused his non-existent breath to catch in his chest.

"We never did."

'You need ME' he thought. 'You need me. I need you. Dios, why can't you see that? Why can't you see me?'

Imelda remained oblivious, and Hector felt the memory of his heart clench.

Ernesto took another sip of coffee, and Imelda rolled her eyes.

"Although, I do think it's getting hard for Coco. In fact, earlier she was saying that Hector was in the room! That he was behind me! Ay, pobrecito nina."

Hector looked up, horrified. No, no, no no no no. She dismissed it that easily? She thought it was just Coco hallucinating? No, no no no. He was here, he was he was right here. He wanted to scream, to make her hear, to make her see.

I'M HERE! IMELDA, I'M RIGHT HERE!

But he knew she would not hear.

Dios, make it stop.

Please.

Hector was so caught up in Imelda's disbelief that he missed the split second of terrified contemplation cross Ernesto's face. If circumstances were different, Hector would have found comfort in Ernesto's clear discomfort.

But not today.

The moment ended in a flash, and Ernesto was back to his usual suave self.

"Oh, poor girl. Hector's death must be so hard for her. I can't imagine what it would be like to grow up without a father."

Hector couldn't help himself. He swung his fist, once, twice, through Ernesto's head, making no impact and failing to make him notice him. He could feel the screams getting ready to burst from his chest. Ernesto was surely mocking him now. He must know that Hector was her, and that he was boiling over with rage. He wanted to scream, he wanted to knock his favorite music note mug out of Ernesto's hands and scream in his face,

"SHE WOULDN'T HAVE TO IF YOU HADN'T DECIDED TO MURDER ME! Why! Why did you do this to them!? They didn't deserve it!"

Only after he had finished punching and was panting did Hector find the strength to whisper,

"I didn't deserve it."

Imelda looked down at herself and sighed, realizing that she was still in her nightgown.

"Perdon, Ernesto, but I should go change. Stay put."

She left, Pepita casting a defensive glare at both Hector and Ernesto as she lept lightly down from her perch on the drier to follow Imelda upstairs. Once she was gone, Ernesto's eyes flitted nervously around the apartment. Hector saw and smirked, knowing exactly why his friend was so cautious.

"Yeah, that's right. You brought this upon yourself, you hijo de pu-"

He was cut off by Ernesto dumping the entire contents of his coffee mug on his clean white shirt, and screaming out.

"AHHH! OUCH!"

Hector looked up, surprised at the sudden outburst. Both he and Ernesto could hear Imelda rush down from upstairs, shirt hanging off of her shoulder and hair loose.

"Ernesto, que pasa? What happened?"

Ernesto tried his best to look guilty and sheepish, and to hi credit he was a decent actor.

"My elbow slipped and I spilled coffee on myself. I can't believe this happened."

Imelda looked skeptical for a second, then grabbed a towel from across the counter and handed it to Ernesto.

Who promptly discarded it in favor of simply taking his shirt off instead.

He threw his shirt right through Hector-who was standing speechless and fuming-and onto a close by chair. He tried his best to look dejected.

"I really liked that shirt."

Imelda had decided that she was having none of his acts and moved to go away, only to be stopped by Ernesto forcefully grabbing her hand and leaning in for a kiss.

Hector exploded.

He didn't get time to see if his lips even connected with Imelda's, or her reaction, because he was too busy launching himself at Ernesto, feeling surprisingly weightless as he sailed through the air. He flew right through Ernesto and Imelda, but in his anger, he felt his fingertips brush the mug Ernesto had been drinking out of-the music note one Imelda had gotten him last Christmas-and knock it off the counter, where it shattered on the floor.

The sound of the mug smashing had stopped Ernesto dead in his tracks, only to have the air ring out with a resounding

SLAP!

as Imelda smacked him across the jaw.

Hard.

Ernesto looked at her with a rage, but his was quickly overshadowed by hers, as she got up, threw his shirt at him, and said,

"Leave."

Her voice was cold and venomous, and Ernesto slinked out of the door, holding his pride and his ruined shirt in his hands.

Hector did not notice him leave, as he was too busy trying to knock over Imelda's mug.

Come on, come on...

The door slammed and drew Hector's attention to Imelda, who was staring at the mug on the ground.

Staring.

And thinking.

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