Chief Tannabok had thrown a grand celebration the evening of the two men's arrival. Bold colors danced across metallic structures and festive props. Between the toots of pan flutes, beautiful women served pulque as civilians of the golden city gawked in awe at their divine company. Although the circumstances were much too farfetched to process in full, Tulio and Miguel had accepted their new found roles. To Miguel there was never any question. He was quickly falling in love with the city. Tulio however, always considering the doom of being outed as man, saw no choice in the matter. Eye on the prize. But also, eye on not dying.
Constant pressure aside, a type A Tulio was able to enjoy his night. So well in fact that he was delivered back to the temple with Miguel and Chel under each of his arms to support him.
"Be a symbooool of perfectiooooon," the Spaniard sang as he entered the room and plopped down into the canopied bed. The others snickered; a bit unstable themselves. Miguel reclined onto a stone seat, smiling and stretching his arms behind his head.
"They don't throw parties like that where I come from."
Chel sat and crossed her legs, shaking out her long, raven hair.
"And where is this heavenly place that you come from?" She wiggled her fingers on 'heavenly', implying sarcasm. Miguel mirrored the gag and held his palms up in front of him.
"The land," he answered dramatically, "of Spain."
Tulio continued to sing into his pillow.
"Spain," Chel repeated, resting her chin onto her knuckles. "What's Spain like?"
"Oh y'know, the fathers farm, the mothers raise the kids, the tyrants in charge make everyone's life Hell and everyone else plays backgammon." Chel smirked and raised an eyebrow. "But it's not all bad. There're the most beautiful beaches. The water's like a blanket of diamonds. The only thing more beautiful are the girls."
"Mm I bet they can't keep their hands off you," Chel teased. She bit her lip and glanced over to Tulio, who now appeared to be sleeping soundly. "And how did a sweet guy like you end up with lightweight over there?"
A warm smile crept up the side of Miguel's face. He looked to his slumbering friend, recalling their meeting for the first time since arriving to El Dorado. Which surprised him. The memory was never far off hand.
"He saved my life," said Miguel. Chel's eyebrows disappeared into her bangs. The man sighed before proceeding. "Back in Spain, if you're accused of a crime against the church..." He dragged a finger across his throat with a quiet 'kccch'. "They got him for fraud. We were complete strangers, shackled together in the streets, waiting for our turns. I thought I was a goner, but then he whispered for my attention and pointed out that our chains weren't linked to the others. So, we counted to three and we ran."
Chel blinked and pressed a dainty hand to her chest.
"That's like some miracle or something," she said.
Miguel nodded. A beat passed before he felt a pang of sadness. He knew that it wasn't a miracle. He got lucky. Luckier than he could ever fathom. Since that day, they called each other partners, but Miguel could sense that Tulio was protective of him. He sometimes wondered if he deserved companionship as great as Tulio provided. Others weren't so lucky. Tulio the hero. Tulio the lady's man. Tulio the imperfectly perfect. The poison word of 'Heresy' lingered in the back of his mind. Since then, he had been at war with himself. He was tried, but was he guilty? And if he was, was he spared? Since then, all conflicts seem to point back to Tulio. A man who protected him, and at the same time struck fear into his heart. The young man frowned, resting his head against his fingertips. A subconscious attempt to hide the shame that burned in his cheeks.
"I just hope that... if there is really a god, that he's more compassionate than that."
Chel's eyes darkened and drifted down to the cool cobblestone floor. She, too, knew what it was like to fear death in the name of religion. She nodded, standing from her seat and slowly walking toward the curtain that covered the door. With a fist full of thickly woven fabric, she turned to speak over her shoulder.
"Maybe you can be that god." With that, she exited.
Miguel was left alone to his thoughts and his carcass of a partner. He brought his hands to his face, rubbing and swiping his hair back before choosing to refocus his attention on the temple walls. Even draped in darkness, the architecture was stunning. Artistic scenes were depicted upon the walls in vibrant tile. Exotic vines twisted carelessly along the room's perimeter and hung down in long strands of giant green leaves. The reflective pool that lied in the center of it all threw active bends of blue light onto the ceiling, resembling a miniature aurora borealis, putting on a private show just for him.
It had been an amazing day. A day of discovery and reward. A day where for once he connected with citizens, and was celebrated over demonized. A clean slate. Miguel finally stood to his feet and shuffled over to join Tulio in the suite's only bed. He settled in carefully as to not disturb his bunk mate, who lied in bed fully clothed and care free. The shorter man lied on his side and closed his eyes, but when he was unable to fall asleep right away, his mind began to run once more. He thought about what it meant being in the new world. What he was meant to learn and what major life changes were sure to follow. Here, there were no rules. He made the rules. Standing at the threshold of a significant chapter, he felt hopeful. Now was not the time to be cautious. Now was the time to be brave. To trust himself and do what felt right.
"Tulio?" he whispered. "Tulio..."
"Hmm."
The patterns on the canopy appeared to shift, reminding Miguel that he was still inebriated. Less so than Tulio, who smelled heavily of tequila and agave. He suddenly was reminded of his fears. Of the person he was, the soul that he carried and the transgression that marked it. It would follow him all over the globe.
"Do you think that I'm going to Hell?" Miguel asked somewhat casually. Not that the man was expecting a profound answer from the drunk atheist. He just wanted to hear Tulio's voice. He was not, however, expecting what came next. Tulio adjusted behind him, only to snake a skinny, pale arm around Miguel's waist, pulling him flush against the other man.
"You're not going anywhere."
Miguel blushed, barely remembering to release the breath that had hitched in his throat. From then he struggled to keep his breathing even as his heart picked up in tempo. Tulio squeaked out a single hiccup before passing back out, his grip not letting up. Miguel's worries scrambled into a white, hot haze. Of the thousand things Miguel could have been thinking, stressing about, over-analyzing, he found himself unable to. Was he ridiculous to be feeling so worked up over such meaningless contact? By morning, Tulio wouldn't even be able to recall the gesture. It was innocent. Miguel reasoned with himself enough to put his demons to rest the best that he could, allowing himself to close his eyes and relax into the warmth of his friend. He felt every gentle breath behind him, both through their clothes and on the back of his neck. Dare he try and enjoy it? None of it felt like sin to him. None of it even felt awkward. In fact, it felt absolutely wonderful. They fit together like puzzle pieces. He realized that there, atop a secret town, oceans away from the country that wanted him dead, and instead tucked into his hero's arms... he was indeed safe.