Ernesto falls asleep on the train ride to Aguascalientes. The weariness of staying up all night reading Héctor's letters and only getting about two to four hours asleep afterward catches up to him as their ride starts to depart, and his eyes start to close as soon as he and Héctor take their seats. He wants to stay awake so Héctor won't notice anything and get suspicious-- he almost found out about what Ernesto did last night when he found his letters shoved in the nightstand drawer instead of where he'd put them before he'd fallen asleep and mildly freaked out-- but calming Héctor down and worrying about their next move once they arrive at their destination has taken a lot out of him, and doesn't even have the energy to try and keep his eyes open.
The surise outside his window blurs and the different voices talking and laughing inside the train dull into one inseperable sound. Ernesto twists himself away from the window so the sun doesn't get in his eyes and tries to make himself comfortable. He pulls his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them, then leans his head against Héctor's shoulder without meaning to, almost knocking him into the aisle.
"Wh-what are you doing, Superhero?" Héctor asks with a concerned and shocked voice as he grips the edge of his seat to keep from being knocked out of it. A startled and annoyed protest can be heard when Héctor's left leg kicks out and accidentally connects with the shin of the man in the seat across from them.
Ernesto shakes his head as his eyes close further, trying to think of what to say. "Don't worry about it" is what he ends up slurring as Héctor gets himself situated back into his seat and lets Ernesto's head fall back where it was on his shoulder.
Just before his eyes close he sees the sunlight shift to the window across from him as the train takes a sharp turn, and he's able to make out his friend's furrowed brow and hesitant eyes.
"Are you sure you're okay, Ernesto?" Héctor asks in the same tone of voice he used earlier.
"Sí. Don't worry. Everything is fine." Ernesto's voice sounds faraway in his ears, his talking slowed with his drowsiness. Then the worlds goes black and everything-- the noises of the train, Héctor's look of concern, the sunrise and the knowledge of the place he's in-- fades away to nothing.
Dreams start to unfold in Ernesto's mind as he sleeps. He sees the future concerts in his mind, with the large audiences and the cheering taking him over. He sees him and Héctor with wide grins on their faces as they present themselves and their music to the waiting crowd. He feels the pang of genuine happiness and adoration that will surely take him over at these next performances.
And as the dreams carry on, Ernesto imagines one more thing: him and Héctor's friendship restored, his sanity and happiness returned, Héctor's family out of the picture as the two of them enjoy the rich, famous life they deserve and are destined to have.
Their hotel room is too expensive for them, and this time Ernesto's not exaggerating when he rages this to the staff. It's about six pesos a night, and not only are him and Héctor planning to stay seven nights in this place, but what they earned for their last show was able to buy them the train tickets and nothing else before it dwindled to less than enough to spend any time here.
Ernesto tries not to let it get the best of him. He reminds himself that the last thing he needs to do is lose his temper, rile up his best friend and start another fight, or suffer the amused looks that the people behind them are giving. But when he thinks of the dream he had earlier-- of the way things are supposed to go and how they should be respected and not have any negativity to deal with-- that reminder is pushed away completely.
"This isn't fair!" he exclaims, banging his hand on the desk, palm open for effect, as he glares at the staff in front of him. "You have no idea who we are. We're famous músicos who deserve to stay here without paying that price. It's not right!"
Ernesto hears Héctor clear his throat from behind, and when he turns he sees his amigo giving him a pointed look. He might cross his arms, too, but he has both suitcases in his hands and both guitar cases slung around his shoulders, so his arms stay at his sides. Ernesto both gets and ignores the message Héctor sends anyway.
One of the hotel managers-- a man a foot shorter and a bit stockier than Ernesto-- responds with an agitated look and a long, drawn out sigh as he runs a hand through his thin black hair. "It's the same price for everyone, señor," he explains coldly as Ernesto turns back to him. "And if you and your amigo are so famous, why haven't we heard of you?"
Snickering is heard from behind Ernesto, and to the left of him he sees Héctor furrow his brow and glare at the people responsible for the laughing.
Ernesto grits his teeth as he stares forward again. "It doesn't matter if you've heard of us or not. You will in a matter of weeks when we perform more shows. The point is that, no matter how famous we are, we deserve a better price."
"Well, you're not getting one." the manager replies. His scowl deepens. "And if you keep arguing, you'll never be allowed in here again."
Ernesto drops his hands to his sides, straightening as he curls them to fists. He lets out a curse under his breath as he turns away and prepares to storm out the door, ignoring the joyus sounds of teasing and the looks of pity that follow him.
He grabs Héctor's arm and drags him away, pushing open the door to the hotel with an unnecessary amount of force.
Héctor gives a nervous laugh as he's pulled along. "I guess we won't be staying here, will we, Ernesto?" He attempts to say this in a joking way, but it falls flat.
Ernesto huffs and pulls Héctor outside, blinking against the harsh sunlight. "We won't," he mutters as he lets go of Héctor's arm and turns to face him, running a hand through his hair. He tries to push away the feeling of annoyance and nervousness as he continues. "We'll have to find somewhere else to go."
They go to all the hotels in the area, their guitars on their backs making them hunch over, suitcases getting heavier under the heat. Each place they go to ends with the same result as the first. Each is to expensive for the two of them and their mostly used up savings. They search until two hours after noon, and by then, they're both exhausted and hungry with no place that is generous enough to let them stay while lowering the price.
Ernesto finally decides to stop looking for a while, because he's still tired from earlier and not in the mood to start an argument with the hotel staff again. Plus, he's not going to last much longer without stopping for food, but even that seems out of the question right now.
Him and Héctor make their way to the center of town, looking for a place to rest among the thick crowds of people pushing around them to go hang out with friends or get to one the many different shops that lines the streets. Ernesto pushes people aside as he makes his way to the far right side of the plaza, where it only has about ten people occupying the space and the large stage is set up for their first performance tomorrow morning.
Ernesto takes a seat on the ground, his back leaning up against the wood of the stage floor, and Héctor sits next to him. He still wears the same pitying and worried look he'd had ever since they left the fourth hotel they'd stopped in. Carefully he reaches out and wraps an arm around Ernesto, giving a smile that is meant to be reassuring but looks forced and tired on his face. Ernesto doesn't return the look or the gesture, and they sit like that for a few minutes in defeated silence, the weight of the day they've been having wearing them both down.
For once, Ernesto is the first to break the quiet. He grabs his guitar case from where it's positioned on his left side and prepares to play it, coaxing out the tune of The World Es Mi Familia on its strings.
Héctor removes his arm from Ernesto's shoulder and gives him a confused look. "What are you doing, Ernesto?"
Ernesto shrugs. "Might as well make the best of this." A grin plays on his lips, the first one all day. "There's a whole audience over here, and it'd be foolish to waste it."
Héctor returns the smile for real this time and grabs his guitar as well, able to join Ernesto's playing without missing a beat.
They play their music as people begin to pay attention to them. It's not long before a decent amount of people swarms them and starts cheering and clapping along to the music. The two of them sit there for hours while people dance and smile at them and their songs, a few of the younger kids even reaching out to try and touch their guitar strings while the music is played, which Ernesto allows just this once because his mind is too focused on other things to really care what's happening in front of him.
After a good three hours, Ernesto and Héctor stop their little performance. The crowd bursts into applause and cheering, making Ernesto wish that this were a real concert so he could earn something from an audience this large. The two of them begin to pack up and the crowd disperses, scattering their separate directions once again and leaving the two men alone. Everything seems to have happened so quickly that the only clue more time than noticed has passed is that it's a little cooler with a slight breeze and the sun has began to sink behind the buildings, only three quarters of it showing.
It's as they begin to stand and resume their journey to find a place to stay that a voice calls out, "Hey! Where are you going?"
Ernesto turns at the sound of the voice, but there are too many people for anyone to stick out. Héctor turns, too, shielding his eye from the sun as he scans each person for who might've said that.
The voice calls out again. "Come on, amigos! Don't walk away from me." This time a hand waves over the heads of people rushing past, and someone rushes toward them, pushing their way through the crowd.
When the person stops, Ernesto gets the first good look at him: a man with sharp, pointed features, a skinny frame, with a height about a foot shorter than Héctor. His smile shows off his strikingly white teeth, the sun glinting off of them except for a bottom left front tooth that appears to be missing. His clothes are wrinkled and the red shirt he wears is two sizes too big and shows off the small muscles in his arms. He wears brown leather shoes that seem too tight for him. His pants barely brush his ankles and appear ripped at the ends.
Ernesto doesn't recognize him, but Héctor's eyes widen and his mouth drops open. His face and neck turn pale, then bright red as his mouth closes and he clenches his teeth. He scowls at the person in front of them with a rage Ernesto has never seen in his eyes, his hands balled into tight fists.
The figure shakes his head and grins wider. "I thought I recognized the two of you," he says in a smooth, suave voice. He eyes Ernesto appreciatively. "You look a lot better since the... last time I saw you."
Héctor's eyes narrow. "Why are you here?" he snaps. "I thought you didn't want anything to do with us."
"I was here first, little one," the man says, his grin fading. "You guys are the ones that followed me."
Ernesto looks between the two of them, confusion on his face. There is something familiar in the man's voice and features, but only vaguely.
Héctor wraps his arm protectively around Ernesto as he continues to stare the man down. "We are on tour here," he says coldly, a tone that reminds Ernesto of the hotel managers' voices from earlier. "We didn't expect to see you here. Are you trying to hurt Superhero like you did the last time you near him?"
The man shakes his head and points an accusing finger at Héctor. "It wasn't me who beat him up and you know it. You keep blaming me for that when you know it wasn't me."
Ernesto interrupts the argument, furrowing his brow at the mysterious figure. "Lo siento, but who are you? And what are you talking about?"
The man raises his eyebrows at Ernesto coolly. "Of course you don't know me. You were so wrapped up in your problems that you forgot all about me."
"And for a good reason," Héctor quips bitterly.
The man looks between Ernesto and Héctor for a minute longer before he turns around and waves a hand over his shoulder. "Come with me," he commands. "I'll explain everything."
Ernesto reluctantly follows his order, sharing a confused glance with his friend. "Do you know him?"
Héctor nods but doesn't explain. His face still holds the annoyed blush from earlier.
The two of them follow the person into a one-story cantina with dim lighting. Then when all three men are seated, the mysterious person clears his throat and glances between Ernesto and Héctor once more.
Ernesto gives him an even stare back and watches as Héctor's glare hardens.
The man sits across from them and folds his hands in his lap. "Well," he starts, returning Ernesto's gaze and becoming serious. "I thought you guys knew a better way to greet an old friend."