Heeeyyyy! Guess what? It's my birthday! (Actually now that I finish writing this, it was 3 days ago but who cares) Yay! I'm fifteen. I feel strangely old. I don't feel like I'm fifteen. I'm weird. Anyways... here's an all new chapter to Back at Home! I'm seriously so happy for all the likes and follows this story has (I believe this story is the second most followed out of all the Coco fics, so thanks for that!) , as well as for all your wonderful and helpful reviews! Now to the story...

Chapter 5

The Truth? (Part 1)

The streets seemed oddly silent and tense as the Rivera family walked home after their little visit to the Plaza. Any other person would have found the silence to be calm and comforting. Any other person would have looked up at the starred sky and at the shining full moon and they would have felt at peace. Miguel Rivera, however, felt the stars and moon staring accusingly at him. The silence to him was getting rather eerie and, added to the sudden gushes of chilly wind, was starting to creep him out.

Miguel had to admit that he felt guilty. For what? He didn't really know. He knew that he had done what he had to do to get the truth (at least most of it) out to the world. He knew he had done the right thing for his Papá Hector. He knew that he wouldn't change a single word of the things that he had said that night. Yet, why did Miguel feel like he had just done something terribly wrong? Why did he feel so guilty? Why wasn't anyone saying anything as his family took him home? Nothing came to his mind. Nothing but this unbearable anxieties that was building up inside him, impatiently waiting to burst out. He needed answers. Only that would stop that feeling that was burning his insides each and every second that passed.

More than once he opened his mouth to ask a question that his mind had formulated, but stopped abruptly as he realised that not only a second had passed and his mind had already dicarded that question as absurd or unnecessary. He wanted to ask so many things but every time looked at a member of his family something stopped him from wanting to ask anything. He didn't want to... annoy them, so to speak. He looked at their faces and saw disappointment. They were not mad or angry at the mexican boy, just disappointed, and he wanted to know why.

In the end he decided that he would wait for the safety and comfort his home brought to him. He decided that he would let them speak first, ask him questions, and then ask them some of his own.

Santa Cecilia was a relatively small town and the Plaza wasn't really far away from the Rivera's home, but the trip from one place to another was taking forever in the eyes of the young musician, so he sped up his pace, his family's behaviour starting to really get on his nerves.

"Miguel," his father's voice one of authority, "tenemos que hablar."

There's no getting out of this one, Miguel thought.

"Sí papá?" Miguel asked, trying to hide his nervousness behind a facade of innocence, his look on his eyes however, giving him away.

"I want you to tell us why you did what you did tonight and I want you to tell us why you thought it wasn't a good idea to tell your family about your... plans before them actually taking place. Tell us the truth, Miguel."

So that was it, Miguel thought. He realised that they just wanted to know why he hadn't told them about his plan. He almost laghed in relief, almost. At least there wasn't a need for lying... yet.

They were seated around the table at the Rivera's workshop, the whole, family impatient to hear Migel's explanation.

He took a deep breath, preparing to talk, structuring his reply, thinking about every word. He concluded that answering wouldn't be as easy as he had firstly thought.

"The truth is that I just wanted to tell the truth to the world about De La Cruz. That man is—" he shook his head "—was a liar and a theif and a downright murderer who does whatever it takes to seize his stupid moment, and he didn't and still doesn't deserve the fame he has achieved because he has achieved it by lying and stealing what isn't his and by murdering an innocent man who just wanted to see his daughter again. And I didn't tell you guys about it because I was afraid that you wouldn't let me do it, that you wouldn't let me tell the world, and I couldn't let that happened because I promised. I promised him that I would save him and I promised myself that I wouldn't just do that, I would set things right like they should be. I promised my family, and family is the most important thing and should be put before anything else. I promised, I—" Miguel felt a gentle hand placed on his shoulder and stopped abruptly. He realised then that he had been shaking and that his eyes were moist with tears.

"Wait, a murderer?" He heard his cousin Rosa say, but did not answer. Instead, he looked up at his mother. They had a deep, unspoken exchange.

"Come here mijo," she said, her voice calm and soothing for her child, "let's talk."

They stood up and walked to Miguel's room, followed shortly after by Enrique, Miguel's father.

The rest of the Riveras were left behind, completely speechless. If they had been confused about Miguel's behaviour since the Día de Muertos, now they just had simply no clue about what was going on inside that boy's mind. They had never seen him so angry and frustrated before. It just didn't look right on the kind boy they had grown to love. And talking about a deceased murderer? Where had that come from?

"Ay, ¿qué vamos a hacer con ese chiquillo?" Elena wondered out loud. The rest couldn't help but agree.

translations

tenemos que hablar ~ we need to talk

¿qué vamos a hacer con ese chiquillo? ~ what are we going to do with this boy?

A/N

I admit this is not my best chapter up to date but I think next one will be much better. Thanks for reading!