Héctor knocks on the door. "Ernesto?" he calls, "you in here?"
Nothing.
Silence.
Héctor tries again. "Ernesto?" Louder this time.
No one answers.
Héctor cracks open the door. It's completely dark when he steps inside. Worried, Héctor starts calling Ernesto's name again. "Ernesto, are you in here?"
"What do you want?"
Héctor startles and jumps back, surprised by the scratchy voice.
Ernesto is slumped on the ground in front of him. His eyes bore into Héctor, and his mouth is closed tight. He holds a drink in one hand, half full. The look on his face resembles pure hatred, but Héctor is still at his side in minutes.
"Ay, Ernesto!" he exclaims, "you look terrible!"
"Yeah, so what?" The venom in Ernesto's voice is strong and clear. "Aren't you supposed to be rehersing for your dumb concert?"
"I practiced already." Héctor says, "and I want you to come. It'll be fun." Héctor stares at him, waiting for his reply. It's terrible to see Ernesto like this, depressed and listless. A shadow of the man he used to know. He knows he should leave, but he really wants Ernesto to come.
Ernesto glares at him. "I'm confined to quarters." he snarls, "I can't go anywhere and it's all thanks to you."
"You could sneak out." Héctor suggests. "Disguise yourself. Do something. I don't want you to miss it."
Ernesto grumbles in reply. "I want to miss it." he shoots back, "you really think I want to see you relishing in fame that's rightfully mine?"
"If you wouldn't have murdered me," Héctor reminds him, "maybe we could've shared that fame. I would've actually liked it better that way."
Héctor turns away. "If you wanna stay here, you can. But I thought you might want to see me perform. I'll let you do it with me if you want. But you don't have to. It was kind of a long shot anyway."
Without another word, Héctor leaves. He lets out the tears he's been holding back as he sprints to the stage.
Ernesto watches Héctor leave, and a wave of uncertainty hits him. He really didn't want to see want to see Héctor perform, much less do it with him.
It should be Ernesto on the stage.
All his performing privilages were taken away when he was arrested. He knows seeing Héctor on the stage would just make him more miserable.
Ernesto takes a swig of the drink in his hand, feeling the sensation in the back of his throat. Would it hurt to watch him, though? a part of his mind thought, he's been sending you gifts since you got relocated. You could return the favor.
Ernesto scoffs, but just then, he has a flashback.
He sees Héctor's face first: the twisted up, sad-angry face that he gets when he feels left out. Ernesto is holding Héctor's favorite superhero toy, dangling it above his head. Héctor jumps to get it but trips the fourth time and falls forward on his face. And there's Ernesto, laughing at him. Laughing at his amigo on the ground. At the tears appearing in Héctor's eyes. Ernesto throws down the stupid toy and runs toward his friends.
Jolting back to reality, Ernesto stands up, horrified. It was just little memory, and it happend a long time ago, but had Ernesto really meant to do that?
He thinks about all those times Héctor had stood up for him.
How he allowed Ernesto to visit their house even though Imelda clearly wanted to strangle him.
How, against Imelda's wishes, he stuck by Ernesto's side when they toured Mexico, just the two of them.
He should go watch Héctor, but how?
His eyes wander to his closet, where a brown trench coat hangs on the handle. That with one of Ernesto's mariachi hats could make a good disguise. He walks over and reluculantly puts the coat on. Then, grabbing a very dark mariachi hat and dark sunglasses, he heads out.
Héctor will be so surprised to see him. But this was Héctor's idea.