Summary: In this AU where Luis Alcazar didn't actually die, he sits alone, thinking about the love he lost and the reasons why.
Notes: This story is based on the song Tonight I Wanna Cry by Keith Urban. A few things about the song have been adjusted, as in the bottle of wine is now bourbon and the yellow lost love letters aren't there. I don't take song fics piece by piece. Instead, I do them over the entire song, the feel of the song and the sentiment. That's what this story is about.
It had finally happened. Luis Alcazar had become his brother, brooding in solitude with a drink because of a woman. He had never understood that. The way Lorenzo could pine for one woman for the rest of his life. How he kept that picture in his money clip, close to his heart. It was all foreign to Luis, until now.
The twins had apparently traded personalities, at least for a little while. Now, Lorenzo was the one that loved a woman to unhealthy obsession. A woman that his brother thought wasn't nearly worthy enough, though he had only spoken directly to her once. And Luis was the one longing with a glass of bourbon in his hand, ready to cry.
The only light in the room came from the television. For once, it was neither Luis nor his brother in the news. Lorenzo was pretending to be a legitimate businessman. Luis was pretending to be dead. There was nothing of interest on the set, and within five minutes of flipping through satellite channels, Luis had turned down the sound, leaving him to sit in silence.
In the semi-darkness, in the silence, he could almost hear her voice. Soft words of adoration mingled with sharp, cutting words of vindictiveness and hatred. He could only go so long thinking about her before his thoughts inevitably drifted to that final night. The night she came after him with a knife. The night she'd left him to cry on his balcony, freezing in a robe that was only partially closed.
He looked up, looked around the room. Lorenzo had told him, the last time he came to visit him on the Venezuelan Alcazar compound, that his obsession was unhealthy. He needed to move on, prepare his body to walk again, prepare his mind to re-emerge in the business world. He didn't need to sit and stare at pictures of her. At the very least, he could have found pictures of them together.
But, there were no pictures of them together. Luis didn't pose, but Brenda Barrett had been very good at it. Some of the pictures were of her modelling days, old images found in magazines. Others were pictures he'd taken of her personally. Others, still, were pictures that he'd commissioned. Photographs of their happier times. Plenty with her in a long, flimsy white dress, walking through the meadows in Belize, surrounded by butterflies.
She was gorgeous.
She was ethereal.
She was a celestial goddess.
And she had moved on with her life.
Luis knew where she was and how to find her. He'd followed her life in Port Charles, prepared to be angry that she'd been broken by the very man she'd left him for. The man that she swore loved her. The man that he saw as the lesser threat. More than once, he'd contacted the proper people to rid the world of Jasper Jacks, as he should have done in the first place instead of trying to do it himself. And every time, Lorenzo caught him before his orders could be carried out. In the end, all those able to be contacted were given express orders from Lorenzo Alcazar. "My brother is not to set his vengeful sights on Port Charles, and you are not to help him."
However, that didn't mean he couldn't continue to keep track of her. Luis followed her progress around Europe. From Paris, to Prague, even a small stint in Spain. Now, she was in Italy. Brenda was moving on with her life, finding a new career and a new love. She was beyond him and everything he had done to her. She was beyond his love and everything that she had meant to him… and the apparent nothing that he had meant to her.
He stood up and started walking towards the telephone. Two feet away, he turned abruptly. The silence was too much to take. Her angry voice inevitably turned into a vision of her snarling face. More cruel than he ever thought she could have been.
Luis shook his head and when he looked up, he was in front of the stereo. There were a million things he could listen to, and none that he wanted to hear. He hit play, and only then did he realize that the last time the stereo had been used, Sage was still alive. Sage had been there, while her father was presumed dead on another part of the compound.
Luis knew the song, though he didn't care for it. Popular music wasn't his favorite, and at the moment, it wasn't growing in his favor. "All By Myself" began to play, a song that he recognized only because Sage had played it once. He actually let the song play to the first chorus, almost in memory of his lost daughter, another consequence of his obsession, then turned it off. The song wasn't making the evening any better.
He went back to his chair, choosing the silence of Brenda's rage over music. He took a drink and reached to the side. On his second bottle of bourbon, he was just far gone enough to realize what he'd done wrong. Just far gone enough to think that maybe if he changed that, if he admitted it, things could change.
Luis picked up the phone, his fingers poised over the buttons. The number was committed to memory, though he'd never actually dialed them. Slowly, his fingers pressed each digit, waiting for what seemed an eternity over the last key. Maybe he wouldn't do it. Maybe he would just say the hell with it, because deep down, he knew she wouldn't change her mind and it would have been a waste.
But, he finished dialing, and he listened to the dialtone. He listened to the click as the line was picked up.
"Ciao?" Luis froze. He listened to her breathing, the impatience in her voice as she said, "Ciao? Hello?" He waited again. She breathed four times more before hanging up the phone.
"Dammit!" Luis hurled the phone across the room. He poured himself another drink, knocked it back, then let his glass follow the phone across the way, to end its trek when it careened against the wall and smashed into hundreds of crystal pieces.
Luis picked up the phone again, and this time, the number was easier to dial. This time, the answer was immediate and there wasn't enough time to listen to breathing. "I waited too long, hermano. For all of it. I should have gotten rid of them sooner. I should have let her know that she was my soul. She knew that I loved her, Lorenzo, but she didn't know how much. She didn't know that I would die… I almost did die because of her, because I didn't have her. Lorenzo..."
"You're drunk."
"Drunk enough, Lorenzo. Drunk enough to know that it's all my fault. I didn't let the right emotions through. I was too strong to just let go. She would have realized if I let her go that she was meant to be with me. Too much control. But, I know now, Lorenzo. I know…"
Lorenzo sighed heavy and ragged enough to be audible through the miles. "Do I need to make a trip?"
"I don't need you here! I just needed to say these things… I would have said them to her, but…"
"Wait a minute. You called? What's wrong with you?"
"What's wrong with me? The thing that's obviously not wrong with you. I'm alone, Lorenzo. I'm alone and I thought I would never be alone, not since you came back to us. But, you're there, and obviously not alone because you're being vague." The only response was a sigh and Luis said, "See?"
"I'll come there if you need it. You know that I'd do that for you."
"There's a lot you would and have done for me, Lorenzo. But sometimes, it's not enough. It's not the thing that I need." Luis put the bourbon bottle to his lips and took a long pull. He ripped it away from his mouth and winced at the bitter sting. "Forget that I called, Lorenzo. Forget that I am even here. You've done a great job so far."
"Don't…" He sighed. "Don't do anything that either of us would regret."
"Don't worry. Our secret is safe with me."
"Don't make that call again, do you understand? It's not safe, and it's not healthy."
Luis barked a laugh. "You are the one telling me what's healthy? That is funny. But don't worry, hermano. I won't call again. I'm drunk enough to realize my faults, but not drunk enough to actually speak. Let her think I'm dead. She wouldn't care, anyway."
Luis hung up the phone before Lorenzo could respond and pushed himself from the chair. He went to the bar and grabbed another glass, then flopped back into his seat. He poured another drink, tossed back half of the glass, then silently cried into his bourbon.