Miguel plucked the strings on his white guitar quieter than usual. Granted these days he did everything quieter than usual.
"The way you keep me guessing, I'm nodding and I'm yes-ing" he hummed softly.
As he sat against an alley wall just off the Plaza he watched some of the people pass by, the crowd almost a blur in its motions.
But the song that had once brought him so much joy to play felt empty. Hollow. Like the rest of him. Miguel sighed and dropped his hand from the frets and set his guitar down next to him. He glanced at it from the corner of his eye. Most people knew the iconic white guitar as Ernesto De La Cruz's signature instrument (and indeed any one who ran across Miguel with it assumed it was an imitation of Ernesto's) but Miguel knew the truth. He knew it was his Papá Héctors guitar.
He didn't feel like he deserved it anymore.
And ok, maybe that was too far. But Miguel was just… empty.
Dante whined and placed his head on the boys shoulder, as if he was picking up on the maudlin thought. Miguel gently patted the top of his dogs head. A sad smile crossed his lips. He knew he shouldn't be dwelling so hard on it all. But, he couldn't help it. He had tried to keep positive, to be happy, but the emotions wouldn't come. It wasn't even that he was constantly sad. After the initial shock and sobbing had subsided, it was like he felt nothing at all. Not even music helped him. Once songs had brought him a secret joy, a feeling of elation with every note plucked from his guitar. Then later it had become a connection to his family. Now the magic was gone. He couldn't feel it anymore.
Was it weird to be mourning someone when you yourself were already dead? He wasn't entirely sure. Things worked so differently here. At times the Land of the Dead seemed familiar and welcoming, but others he just wanted to ask for help from his familia. But they weren't there.
It had been nearly a month since his passing, and still, he hadn't found his family. He wasn't sure he wanted to. How could he face his Mamá Imelda after what happened? His Mamá Coco? He just wasn't ready, and the fact that they didn't seem to be looking for him either, was well… well something he didn't want to think about right now.
"Come on Dante…. Let's go back." He sighed, pushing off the wall and grabbing the guitar, slinging it across his back and adjusting his red hoodie.
He was still wearing the same clothes he arrived with. They had already been a little worse for wear when he got to the Land of the Dead, but now they were starting to look pretty bad. Miguel figured he certainly had the 'street rat' look down pat.
His fingers numbly played with a hole on the sleeve of his jacket, reminding himself to ask Julieta later if she could help him fix it.
He had learned that the Land of the Dead did indeed have a nighttime and daytime, though the illumination and bright colors from street signs and lamps seemed oddly ever present, casting the city in warm shades of color. It almost seemed to be brighter at night with all the lamps turned on instead of the sun.
The city was really pretty cool, though Miguel had yet to explore a lot of it. He had spent a majority of his time with Amelia or Marco, alternating sleeping at one of their houses or the small one he got to call his own. He figured he was lucky to have found such nice people right away, they were good to him.
He wondered how much longer they all had.
None of his new friends from the slums were quite as forgotten as Héctor was when Miguel knew him.
They all looked worse for wear, yellowed bones and tired eyes. Dusty clothes with tatters and holes, scraping to get by and keep food on the table. They didn't get the gold glow that forgotten ones got, the glow he still sometimes saw as he came across more faded skeletons in Shantytown. But still, he wondered,
How long until they were forgotten too?
Dante whined and shifted his stance, moving closer to him. Miguel just sighed and pet his head a few times.
The alebrije had been like this almost every time they wandered into the city, always seemingly on edge and ready to pounce. Miguel wasn't really sure why.
Amelia had warned him that the city could be dangerous sometimes, and he needed to take care. Not exactly a new idea, Miguel figured all cities everywhere living and dead were at least a little dangerous. Still, he wasn't sure exactly what had gotten Dante's goat and riled him up.
Whatever it was he hoped it would stop soon.
"Come on boy, its fine." Miguel insisted with one last scritch behind the ears. Dante huffed and shook his head, keeping his nose to the ground as he sniffed out their path back.
As they wandered further from the city center towards the outskirts the bright lights slowly faded off. The atmosphere morphing from warm yellows and oranges to a darker tone, the lamp posts growing further and further apart. Leaving the moon to guide his path back.
Slowly he began to descended towards Shantytown, the wooden planks creaking under his boots.
Creak creak creak, with each step.
Dante growled and Miguel paused.
"Dante come on-"
The creaking however, continued.
Miguel went rigid as a board, clenching his fists around his guitar strap. "Whose there?" He asked hesitantly, eyes scanning the darkness.
The sounds stopped. Dante's growl was low as he stuck close to Miguel's side.
He turned around, ready to book it towards anywhere but there when a hand fisted itself in his jacket and hoisted him up.
Miguel screamed as he was shoved up against the side of an empty shack.
"You gotta have some cash right muchacho?" The larger skeleton holding onto him grumbled. "I'm sure you know all about sharing the wealth with the rest of us right?"
Miguel struggled in his hold, thrashing around trying to free himself. "I don't have anything!" He yelled, turning his face away, the mans breath was rank with the smell of tequila. He was tall that was for sure, broad shouldered and in clothes more tattered than any one else Miguel had come across.
"Don't lie to me kid!" The man yelled, giving him a good shove, bringing his other hand up to hold Miguel's head back by his hair. "Come on what do you got?" Dante was barking loudly, nipping at the mans arms only to be smacked away.
"Nothing nothing!" Miguel yelled, kicking his feet, searching for leverage, anyway to wrangle free. But the man was strong, way stronger than a small 13 year old boy.
"Let him go!" A voice called. Miguel cracked an eye open, searching for the source of the voice. He knew that voice.
"Huh? Who's there-" The thief growled.
A fist to the face was the only answer to the question as another man flew forward, sending the attacker tumbling back.
Miguel dropped to the ground with a thud, his bones rubbing uncomfortably against each other from the impact.
The second man was quickly overtaking the attacker, pushing him farther away from Miguel. Dante darted himself in front of him, taking up a protective stance as he kept a firm eye on the struggling men.
"Get out." The second man bellowed, standing over the first attacker and holding him by the scruff of his shirt collar. "Don't you ever come near this boy again do you hear me?"
"Fine fine!" The man yelled, yanking himself off and scrambling away, disappearing into the darkness.
Miguel's rescuer sighed as he watched the attacker run off, running his hands through his hair and smoothing it out, though a few locks tumbled free still. "Are you alright mijo?" He asked, turning around.
"Señor De La Cruz?" Miguel yipped, still gripping his guitar.
"I'm sorry-" De La Cruz said, taking a cautious step forward, only to hesitate when Dante let out a warning bark. "I was passing through and I saw the man and you- and well, I couldn't just stand aside."
"Dante! Stop it." Miguel chided, pulling the dog back as he bared his teeth. Dante whined but obeyed, looking back at him with confusion. "I don't think he's going to hurt us…"
Dante snorted.
"I mean no harm" Ernesto said, hand held up as if in oath. "I swear."
Miguel eyed him cautiously, fingers still gripping tight onto the strap of his guitar.
"I do not expect you to like me… or even trust me." Ernesto admitted, holding a hand out. "But I am a different man now. Please, at least let me walk you home, it's not safe to be out in such places alone."
Miguel looked at the hand offered to him and cautiously he took it. Ernesto was strong enough that Miguel hardly needed to use any strength as he got to his feet, trying not to stumble once he was on two legs again.
Carefully he checked over his bones, making sure nothing was too out of place. "Thanks I guess." He muttered, brushing off some of the dirt from his pants.
"I'm just glad you're alright my boy." Ernesto said, adjusting his suspenders.
Miguel looked him over with a skeptical eye. He looked similar to their encounter a month ago, but now Miguel really had a chance to take the man in. His looming and broad stature was somewhat undercut by his more tattered appearance. Long gone were his white and gold embroidered charro suit, instead he had simple brown slacks held together by a set of broken suspenders over a dress shirt, which was ripped on one shoulder just slightly. His hair still had that streak of gray, though it all together didn't look as well kept as previous as stray hairs flitted about his face.
"Yeah I'm fine… thanks." Miguel said.
Dante, who had stopped growling after Miguel's scolding, was still holding his ground. Keeping himself between Miguel and the former star.
"Your dog still seems a bit… ah, angry with me." De La Cruz said with a nervous laugh. "It's… I understand."
"Look I better get going." Miguel said a little nervously.
"Of course of course, please let me escort you home- it's the least I can do." Ernesto said. "A young boy such as yourself should not be out in places like this alone."
"It's fine." Miguel shrugged. "I'm out here all the time."
Ernesto paused. "Miguel, why are you not at home with your family?" He asked quietly.
The boy stopped, and looked up at Ernesto again. He really did look… different. But still Miguel felt a tugging at the back of his mind, reminding him that he shouldn't trust this man who was once his biggest hero. "No reason." Miguel muttered.
"Mijo, you're not… alone are you? Aren't you living with your familia?" The musician asked, a look of concern flashing across his face.
"I dont wanna talk about it," he whispered, shifting his eyes away. "I can get back on my own alright?"
Ernesto sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "If you insist mijo. Please be careful my boy."
"I will." Miguel nodded, dashing off.
He caught himself and paused one last time and turned around. "And… just thanks ok? For saving me." He called.
The mariachi offered a small smile and a single wave before turning back around and disappearing into the darkness of the alleyways.
Miguel trudged forward, eyes now constantly darting about looking for any more signs of danger. But as soon as he heard the melodies of a violin his shoulders instantly relaxed and the smallest of smiles crept onto his face.
Several skeletons were gathered around a makeshift table out in what surpassed as a square for Shantytown. Amelia was engaged in a rowdy game of cards with Julieta, Posada, and one more male skeleton that Miguel didn't recognize. Marco supplied the music and laughed along when any one got too flustered at a losing hand.
"Miguelito!" Posada called as he approached. His steps quickened until he came to stand amongst the group, putting up with Amelia ruffling his hair with her free hand.
"Where have you been all day hijo?" Amelia asked finally pulling her hand away after Miguel's hair was good and mussed. She stifled a laugh (though a few giggles still came out) at the expression on the boys face as he tried to fix it.
"Nowhere." He shrugged. Amelia leveled him with a look. "Just the plaza!" He corrected.
"You've been going there a lot lately." Julieta hummed before drawing a card from the stack in the middle of the table.
Miguel shrugged and hefted his guitar off before scrambling on top of one of the barrels being used as a makeshift chair. He was just on the shy side of being tall enough, leaving his feet to dangle silightly. "Just something to do I guess." He didn't miss the look Marco and Amelia briefly shared at his statement.
The reality was that he did not have all that much to do in the square. He went there to really just get out more than anything else. He had spent so long after the shock of Héctors final death just crying. It had been as if the grief of his own death and that of his Papá's had fallen together at once, all the things he had been avoiding hit with a powerful force.
"Well it's good to get out and about." Amelia smiled.
"Si." Marco nodded. "But if you're that bored chico I could always find something for you to do."
Miguel had spent the majority of the last month crying in the tiny shack he occupied, or in Amelia and Marco's. He knew they both especially worried for him. And as much as Miguel would bat away Amelia's hands when she messed with his hair, it was nice to have some one looking after him.
Even if others seemingly didn't care he was even dead.
The boy shook his head. No, he wouldn't wallow. He had been trying so hard not to focus on that. Wallowing only lead to nothing but sitting and crying. And he didn't want to cry anymore.
"Ay Miguelito! Your sweatshirt has another hole in it." Posada lamented.
Julieta instantly put down her cards and snatched up the fabric, taking his arm with her. Miguel caught himself from tumbling forward as the coat was examined. The skeleton woman tutted and lightly ran her finger over the loose threads fraying from the hole.
"I'll have to buy some thread tomorrow and see if we can fix this ya?" She sighed, letting him take his arm back as he adjusted the fabric of his sleeve until it sat right on his bony frame again.
"Gracias." Miguel said. "I would like that."
The card game continued into the night, Miguel rested his head in his arms as he leaned on the table, watching and sometimes laughing when the older skeletons antics got out of hand.
Hardly any one had noticed when he had fallen asleep like that. Save for Amelia, who simply smiled and gently placed her shawl around his shoulders as he drifted softly in sleep.