Chapter 2 ~ That Moment

Before true love can bloom, there must be friendship. Just as the flower blooms after the roots are solidly planted, the lovers must know each other beyond the rosy haze of their emotions. Such roots keeps them grounded, gives them a solid foundation that survives all things.

There's a moment in every relationship when the participants truly realize that they have become friends. For some, it happens right away—others take longer. An unlucky few never truly understand at all. But for the love born on Fate's Wings, the Moment comes…

A year had passed since that meeting in the rain, and Ramos was finally getting used to having Sunshine Corazon in his life. To be perfectly honest, after he'd woken up to his Tia's scoldings and eaten Mrs. Corazon's (he still wouldn't call her Mama, but he was getting there), pancakes, he'd expected never to see the little girl with the big voice again.

But then, Tia started sending him on errands to the Corazon households, and her mother did the same. And, of course, Ramos was sent to "watch" Sunshine, which was really just another way of saying that he was responsible for making sure she didn't get herself killed or kidnapped.

It was easier than he thought it would be.

Behind the sunny outlook and big-eyed naivety, Sunshine Corazon wasn't stupid. She knew better than to follow strangers into their cars or to accept candy from people she didn't know. What she didn't know, however, was that he was one of those people that she should really avoid.

Ramos did his best to ditch her whenever he thought he could get away with it, but then she'd wander off into his part of town with that big guitar case and big smile asking for "Ramos," and he'd have to hustle her out before she got herself shanked and left in a ditch.

"Stop following me," he exploded once after a particularly close call, in which he'd actually seen one of Bronx's friends eyeing her, "You're gonna get yourself killed, and it's fu—freakin' annoying to have to rescue you all the time. He ignored the little part of him that was asking since when did he watch his language for anyone.

Sunshine had looked stubbornly straight back at him and told him that they were friends, and friends hung out. If he wasn't going to come to her, she was going to find him. Ramos told her snidely that they weren't friends, but the next day he went to her house to steal breakfast and ended up walking her to her morning gigs.

It was nice, he supposed. A place where the upper-middle class usually hung out, and where plenty of nice old ladies donated money to help the "poor mites in those awful neighborhoods." He sat a couple benches away until he noticed the policeman eyeing him. After that, he sat next to Sunshine.

A couple weeks into this arrangement, Sunshine asked him out of the blue if he wanted to sing with her. Ramos gave her a look that said very plainly, "If you weren't a dumbass little girl who I can't swear around, I'd call you a f***in' stupid moron." She doesn't press, but neither does she give up.

The fourth time she asks, he tells her that he can't sing. She asks him how he knows. He doesn't really have an answer for that, but he doesn't want to admit that so he pulls one of her pigtails and runs away when she cries out indignantly. (For some reason, this elicits a couple "awws," from Sunshine's audience and there are extra tips that day.)

The next time he sees her, she tells him it's her tenth birthday. He stares at her tiny frame—he still has suspicions about her true age—and shrugs. "So?"

"So, sing with me."

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

She pauses. "When's your birthday?"

It's such a shift in topic that he gawks for a couple moments before replying. "Couple weeks, why?"

"When, exactly?"

Ok, so maybe she is ten years old. There's no way a seven-year old can pull off that much of a Mom-tude. "Two weeks, three days," he admits sulkily, and then straightens and smirks, looking her straight in the eye, "Why, chiquita? You gonna buy me something?"

Sunshine shrugged, and took out her guitar. "Maybe?"

Ramos rolled his eyes, "Man, that ain't fair. You can't just leave me hangin'."

She's actually pouting like a puppy or something when she looks at him again, guitar in her arms. "You won't even sing with me," she said, "Why should I—"

"Chiquita, why do you even want to sing with me?" Ramos interrupted, "This ain't some way to declare your undying love for me or nothing, is it?" Spreading his hands, he smirked, "Sorry, but his piece of hotness don't bang kids."

"You're—you're—" she actually sputters, her face turning red at his laughter, and then resolutely proceeds to ignore him for the rest of the day.

He slings his arm around her for the first time that afternoon, trying to coax her to smile again, and then suddenly he realizes that they're actually friends now. The thought makes him pause and Sunshine jerks against his suddenly unmoving arm. Turning, she scowls. "What—"

He looks down at her, and wonders how he became friends with this tiny mite with the huge voice and smiling eyes, but there ain't no way in hell he's gonna let her know that's what he's thinking. "I'm hungry," he said again, "Tia's working late. Let's eat at your place."

After all, if they were friends, she might as well feed him.