The stanger glances between the two friends once more before leaning back in his seat and shaking his head.

"I mean, honestly," he says in his, thick, smooth voice, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms. "You guys have always been so caring and welcoming-- well, with the exception of you," he says, directing a pointed glance Ernesto's way. He shakes his head and sighs. "And now you guys come here and act like you barely know me, like you hate me."

"One of us should," Héctor remarks bitterly by Ernesto's right side. His eyes still haven gotten rid of their coldness from earlier, and even in the restaurant's poor light, it's impossible to miss the sour twist of his mouth and sharp tilt of his head, his eyebrows hardened and furrowed critically. "You leave us alone as soon as Ernesto gets attacked, disappear for seven years after, and now you target us here and expect us to like you? I think you deserve the treatment we give you."

The man spreads his hands out exasperatedly, an even expression on his face. "Do you know how hard it was to talk to you two after that happened? Ernesto was torn apart and you were filled with guilt and sadness every day, never even leaving your house. It was too hard for me to come and see you guys after that happened."

"Well, you don't give up on something just because it's hard for you," Héctor spits out. The light overhead flickers, making his disapproving expression look twisted and almost scary. "It was hard for me, too, but I got through it. You just left, and it was when Superhero and I needed you the most."

The man raises one of his thin eyebrows at Héctor's comment, a smirk on his lips. "Ernesto obviously didn't need me if you're the only one who remembers me," he says. "And besides, even if I did try to visit you, you would never let anyone near him. All of my efforts would've been for nothing, and that's why I never tried, because I knew you would never give me permission."

"You still could've tried."

"Well, it's over now, so you might as well forget about it."

Ernesto can't take it anymore. He glares at the man in front of him, leaning in and narrowing his eyes, his tightening into fists at his sides. "Will you tell us who you are now and stop talking about me like I'm not here?" he growls. "We followed you here, so you owe us an explination."

The light overhead flickers off again, and cries of protest are heard all around the restaurant as the building goes darker than it already is.

The man grins in the dark, the slivers of sunlight that come through the windows making his teeth shine. "You sure you don't recognize me, Ernesto?"

"Enough with the joking," Ernesto snarls through clenched teeth. "Now explain yourself."

Beside him, Héctor nods sharply, crossing his arms over his chest.

The man rolls his eyes. "I'm your other best friend," he says. "Jario Diaz."

Ernesto widens his eyes at the name, and suddenly the lights come on again, giving him a better look. As he tunes out the noise of cheering around him and stares closer at the stranger for a minute longer, recognition comes over him, and memories flash in his head so fiercely that he leans away from the table sharply, almost falling backwards in his chair. Beside him, Héctor leans back in his chair, crossing his arms and giving Jario an intense frown.

Jario nods at Ernesto's dumbfounded expression, smiling out of one side of his mouth. "I knew you remembered me," he says triumphantly. "You did know my name, didn't you? You just needed a little reminder."

Out of the corner of his eye, Ernesto sees Héctor roll his eyes, his arms still crossed sharply. "No one should ever have a remider of you," he snaps.

Ernesto studies the face of his former amigo in astonishment, still trying to process what the Jario is saying. It's impossilbe to believe that the person sitting in front of Ernesto is his old friend from Santa Cecilia, the one whom he trusted and confided in and the one that Héctor practically worshiped when the two of them were younger.

Jario casts Héctor an approving look. "You've gained some edge since the last time I saw you. That's good." His face shifts to a mix of hurt and offended. "Although I wish you weren't this upset with me. You're not very fun to be around when you're upset, Littlehero."

Héctor visibly recoils at the nickname, closing his eyes tightly and shuddering as if the mere familiarity of it makes him sick.

Ernesto gawks at Jario once more, his expression still shocked as he tries to figure out what to say in the silence that follows. "I... I can't believe it's you," he manages finally.

The lights go off again, and don't come back on right away. Now that the sun is nearly fully set, only vague slivers of light come through the side windows, making the cantina almost completely dark and making it impossible for Ernesto to see the faces of the people sitting in front of him.

Jario barks a laugh in the dark. "You can't believe it's me? Really, Ernesto? A few minutes ago, you didn't even know who I was." As soon as he's done talking, the lights come back on, and Ernesto sees the joking grin on the man's face, the same one he wore earlier when he'd first told them his name.

"But... but you look so different from the last time I saw you," Ernesto stammers, studying Jario once more. It's true. The man's features are a lot sharper, his eyebrows so thin they're barely noticeable, his eyes seem a lot more piercing and hard with the way that he narrows them, and he's way skinnier than he used to be, almost as thin as Héctor. Not to mention the clothes that he's wearing are atrocious-- so tight and ripped that they're nothing like preferred attire from when they were friends.

Jario scoffs. "I'm not that much different, Ernesto. Don't be so dramatic. And it hasn't been that long since you've seen me."

"Oh, I think that seven years is definitely a long time," Héctor snarls suddenly. Not even the chatter of the restaurant can hide that quietly snapped sentence. His glare seems to have deepened with every word that Jario said. His arms are no longer crossed; his hands have fallen to fists in his lap.

Jario rolls his eyes again. "I did come back, Littlehero. Remember that date you went on with Imelda? The one where you didn't want Ernesto to know about it and showed up with her at the same place we were at? I was there."

"There's no way that was you."

"It was, Littlehero. You know it was."

Héctor cringes, pressing his mouth into a tight line and turning away sharply.

Jario shakes his head and sighs, a broken expression flickering across his face for a moment. Then he steels himself and gives a small smile, turning back to Ernesto. "I heard you were looking for a place to stay," he says casually.

Ernesto frowns at him. "How did you--"

Jario shrugs. "I saw you two walking to all of the hotels in this area. It didn't take much to figure out why."

"And why are you reminding us of this?" Héctor asks, raising an eyebrow critically.

Jario stands up, pushing his chair back and walking over to stand in between Ernesto and Héctor's spots. He places his hand on either man's shoulder. "Because while you two are here, you can stay at my place."

Ernesto stands as well, widening his eyes. "You mean it?"

"Sí. Both of you are welcome to stay with me. I can't have the two of you with no place to stay for the entire three weeks you're here."

"We never told you how long we were staying," Héctor says skeptically, still remaining seated. His arms are crossed yet again.

Jario casts him an unreadable look quickly before turning back to Ernesto. "So what do you think?"

Ernesto studies Jario up and down, unsure whether to believe this offer. "You'd really let us stay with you?" he asks.

Jario nods, grinnig widely. "Of course! You two are my best friends."

"I doubt that," Héctor chimes in.

Jario huffs, rolling his eyes one more time. "So are you coming with me or not?" he asks, looking Ernesto's way again.

Héctor gives him a horrified look. "We are never--"

Ernesto nods, a small grin playing at the edge of his lips. "Sure. We'll stay with you."

Héctor bolts out of his seat. "What?"

Jario cheers victoriously and wraps an arm around both men, pulling them closer to him. "Yes!" He looks at both of them, exhileration in his expression. "You guys won't regret this, I promise." He lets go of them and starts toward the door of the restaurant, shoving people out of the way. "Follow me," he commands as he heads left out of the doors. "This way."

Ernesto starts to follow him, picking up his guitar and his suitcase from where they were on the floor. But Héctor grabas his arm from behind, pulling him backwards.

"What, Héctor?"

"Is this a good idea?" Héctor asks, casting a questioning look towards the front of the cantina, where Jario is waiting for them.

Ernesto huffs. "We've been looking for a place to stay for hours already, and I'm out of patience. He's our only option, hermano."

"But I don't think we can trust him."

Ernesto narrows his eyes. "Since when do you question if you can trust anyone? I usually do that."

Héctor scowls in Jario's direction. "He left you when you needed him the most and you want to stay at his house?!"

Ernesto rolls his eyes, picks up Héctor's suitcase and guitar off the floor, and slings an arm around Héctor's shoulder roughly, guiding him out the door.

"It's all we have right now, Héctor. Don't worry, we'll be fine."

Héctor groans and allows himself to be dragged away, and the two of them reluctantly follow Jario to his house through the darkness of the night, Héctor not saying anything and staring darkly at the ground the whole way there.