It's not that Héctor didn't enjoy the place. He did-- he loved it, in fact. He loved the feeling that it gave him: as is he had no worries or troubles, as if he was free. And it felt good to be in that place after so many years. It brought him joy, just like it had when he was alive.
But the feeling, the one he'd had when reality broke through his exhilerated daze and wrenched him back to the real world... it hurt, because that's when Héctor knew that he'd been imagining things.
Ernesto is gone.
And no amount of pretending can do anything about that.
Héctor stares out the bedroom window, leaning against it as his vision blurs and the sights outside become unfocused. He likes it that Oscar and Felipe tried to cheer him up. From when the three of them first became amigos, not very long after Héctor and Imelda started hanging out together, they'd developed a sort of bond, a relationship. They didn't get together very often, mostly because Ernesto despised them and Imelda and didn't like it when Héctor hung out with either one of them.
But still, Oscar and Felipe respected Héctor from the very beginning. And just like Imelda, they never liked seeing Héctor in a state of despair.
It was nice of them to try, to take Héctor to the place Ernesto cherished the most. But while Héctor had fun, it was only for a moment before realization washed through and interrupted his happiness.
Héctor sighs and turns away from the window, walking over to his side of the bed and lazily collapsing onto it. It's as if almost all of his energy has been drained, that sensation of numbness and emptiness never leaving him. He closes his eyes, but he doesn't sleep. Instead he thinks of some other memories of him and Ernesto, trying to decide if they actually happened or if he just conjured them in his mind, if they were just a dream.
When we become famous, hermanito, you'll never have any problems again.
Ernesto had said that, hadn't he? Or at least something like it.
Musicians don't let their distactions get in the way. And neither should we.
Héctor can't tell if that statement was real. Maybe that one was just an illusion.
I don't want to hear it anymore. I'm fine, okay? Stop worrying. You know I hate seeing you like this.
Now Héctor knows Ernesto had said that at one point, probably when he was recovering from his depression.
Leave me alone, Héctor! I will not tell you again!
Héctor wraps his arms around himself tightly, clenching his teeth and forcing the memory of Ernesto's shout out of his mind.
Oh, Superhero.
Héctor had repeated that phrase in his mind multiple times. Sometimes he even said it out loud without meaning to. Sometimes he rolled the second r in Superhero, the sound soft in his ears and in his thoughts. He liked the way it sounded. Ernesto didn't.
When we're professional musicians, you cannot call me Superhero.
Why not?
Proffesional musicians don't have nicknames. Especially not childish ones like that. We're not kids anymore, Héctor.
The bedroom door creaks open, pulling Héctor from his silent conversations.
How Oscar hates seeing Héctor this way. His brother-in-law has never been one for negativity or sadness. Even the biggest issues always seemed to go right through him when they were younger. Héctor never liked dwelling on hard times. Even when Ernesto was depressed Héctor stayed strong. Even after an argument with Imelda or Ernesto, Héctor always emerged more or less like his old self with only the slightest indication that it bothered him.
Still, even the most cheerful person loses his emotional strength if you get them hard enough.
Oscar looks through the half open doorway and sees Héctor, lying on his bed with his back to the door, seemingly asleep. The lights in the room are off, making it all the more upsetting when Oscar steps inside.
"Héctor?"
Héctor's head seems to jerk a little as he lifts it up. "Ernesto?" His voice is eerily soft.
Oscar tries to swallow his worry as he steps closer to the bed. "No. It's just me. Ernesto's not here." He doesn't dare say forgotten, because for one thing Héctor already knows that, and also, he's distaught enough as it is.
Héctor slowly turns around, his arms crossed around his midsection, laying in a curled up position with the blankets only covering half his body. When he sees Oscar, he breaths out a sigh and turns back around.
Oscar slowly sits down next to him, searching for the right words. Then he realizes there aren't any.
"Did you enjoy the resturant?" he asks after a moment, not taking his eyes off of Héctor's face.
Héctor nods. "Gracias. I needed that." His eyes are glistening. He draws in a shaky breath. "I had fun."
Oscar nods and laughs. "I know. I watched you dance. Some things never change; you danced like that when we were kids."
Héctor stares at him and doesn't reply. His face is blank.
And then it occurs to Oscar: Héctor is depressed. Ernesto being forgotten was too much for him. It took him over, and clearly Oscar and Felipe's efforts weren't strong enough.
Oscar looks at Héctor again, noting how tired he seems, how upset he is. He doesn't even try to hide his feelings.
When Héctor talks again, he seems to be in his own world.
"This wasn't supposed to happen. You weren't supposed to disappear."
Oscar sighs, looking for any words that might bring the old Héctor back to life.
He squeezes Héctor's hand. "It happens to everyone. You should know that the most."
The emotionless expression he recieves from Héctor feels like i cuts him in half. He exits the room and leaves Héctor in his daze.
