For this music is my language and the world es mi familia...
Héctor sings softly in his parents' bedroom, playing his guitar as acompniment. For once he doesn't go outside. Again Ernesto seemed out of sorts, like the fun they had the day before never existed.
Héctor stops playing and stares out the window. Yesterday had worked out so well. His amigos didn't try to kill each other at all. Maybe they should do it again sometime.
Héctor's eyes land on Imelda's house and instantly he blushes. He thinks of the performance they did, when he worked up the courage to spin her around onstage. Her voice took his breath away, so beautiful and pure.
He continues to stare and thinks of her smile, her laughing, the promise she made to try and be nice to Ernesto even though it's hard for her. And then he thinks of Ernesto's twisted words.
She fooled you. Sorry, amigo.
Why would Ernesto do that? Not once had Ernesto tried to manipulate Héctor like that. Not once.
"Must be yet another change in his personality," Héctor says to himself bitterly. His face burns with stupidity for ever thinking Imelda hated him. She clearly loves him. She said so herself.
And I love her.
Héctor taps his hands on the windowsill as he looks out. Imelda is more than just his amiga. She captivates him, makes him almost explode with joy sometimes.
I love you, Imelda. I always will.
The only thing that stops Héctor from letting that thought settle is thinking of his Superhero's distrust in her.
Imelda has always thought of herself as unbendable. Once she makes up her mind about something (or someone), those thoughts stay with her.
There are the people she loves and the people she can't stand.
She always thought Ernesto fell under the second category.
But now, laying in her bed, still dazed from the day before, she realizes that maybe Ernesto deserves a little... bit... better.
She despises herself for thinking it. The way Ernesto sweeeps girls off their feet constanly makes her sick. A man like that is definently not worth fawning over.
But Héctor, kind, protective, overly enthusiastic Héctor Rivera, could never dream of thinking a single crooked thing about his amigo.
Imelda rolls over to face the wall, remembering the feeling she had when she was beating Ernesto up all those years ago.
She felt happy about it at first.
But when she saw Héctor, a broken expression on his face and tears cascading down his cheeks, that happy feeling was replaced by an unbearable guilt.
She'll do anything for Héctor, which is why she promised she'd try and accept Ernesto. Surprisingly, it's not that hard.
She loves Héctor Rivera. Even she can see that. She loves him so much. His laughter and his kind smile and his singing, they take over her thoughts daily.
Even sleeping Imelda thinks of him, the way he makes her forget all her troubles as if they never existed in the first place.
Maybe she could try harder. For Héctor. Anything for Héctor.
Imelda's heart skips a beat as she thinks of him, the carefree way she feels around him and the song he'd written for her.