The next morning Miguel woke to a sickening thud echoing through the brig. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, thinking, momentarily and irrationally, that it was just food. He turned to look at Tulio, who wasn't where he'd left him.
He was by the door, as if he'd been dragged out and then tossed back in. Miguel stood up and walked over, pulling on his shoulder to get him on his back, and to see his face. He was unconscious, but unlike his usual sleeping face, which Miguel usually liked, he looked uncomfortable. Miguel knelt down beside him, grabbed his shoulders, and gave him a shake.
"Tulio. Tulio, wake up." The brunette opened his eyes with a groan, not focusing on anything. Miguel smacked him lightly on the cheek. He glanced at his hand, and then held it to the other man's face.
Tulio had a fever. He'd only ever had one that was this bad before, when they were children, when they'd first gotten away from that house...
No, Miguel, thought, mentally berating himself. Don't think of that now.
"Tulio, look at me," Miguel said softly, turning his friend's face towards him. The brunette attempted to focus, squinting up at the blond.
"Miguel?" Tulio asked softly. "I feel like crap," he muttered.
"You have a fever," Miguel told him. "Take off your shirt; we need to bring your temperature down."
"No!" Tulio cried, scrambling away, "no, I'll sweat it out."
Miguel looked at him suspiciously. "Alright. But I want you to eat. You need your strength." Tulio nodded obediently, struggling to sit up. He then smiled.
"As long as you're not the one feeding me," he said with a chuckle.
Miguel scoffed. "You weren't eating, and it was wearing on my last nerve."
"Mmm, I suppose," the brunette replied, and then he turned and started banging his head on the support. Miguel had to laugh.
Tulio eventually fell asleep. It was a tortured sleep, with him tossing and turning, muttering incoherently, and lashing out. Miguel ran over after a few minutes to hold him down, to make sure he didn't hurt himself. Tulio was whimpering softly, shaking his head. "It hurts," he moaned. Miguel lifted his torso into his lap and leaned against the support. He ran his hands through his hair gently, letting the black as ink locks sift through his fingers. Tulio calmed slightly, murmuring his thanks, though whether he was in his right mind when he did so was debatable.
After few minutes of calm breathing, Miguel's thoughts shifted from worry to just thinking about whatever came to mind. At the forefront of his brain was that night that they'd escaped. He shook his head to clear it, but to no avail. Steeling himself, he let his thoughts drift over that period of time restlessly, because it wasn't going away.
Miguel was running through the hallways of the hacienda excitedly, peeking into rooms, looking for the son of the maid. He was visiting his rich uncle; not that he wasn't well off to begin with, but he didn't get butlers to wake him and maids to wash his clothes. He loved it when his mother decided to pay her brother a visit. He got to see his favourite person in the world.
"Tulio!" he exclaimed, catching sight of the boy scrubbing at the floor in one of the sitting rooms. He ran in and tackled him, just when he'd sat back on his heels and rubbed sweat off his forehead.
"Hey!" the brunette cried, struggling to sit up. Miguel had him pinned to the floor with his arms still wrapped around him. The blond giggled.
"You look like a girl," Miguel teased, rolled off and propping his head on his hand.
Tulio looked down at himself. He was wearing an apron and a kerchief, but some strands of black hair had still managed to escape and stick to his forehead. "You look like a girl," he replied, picking up a piece of blond hair and tickling Miguel's nose with it.
"At least I don't dress like one."
"My clothes are dirty enough as it is!" he argued back. Miguel just kept laughing. "I wish I didn't have to do anything like you, Miguel," he growled. Miguel sobered.
"I do have to do things!"
"Yeah! Learn to play the guitar and read and write!"
"I've been trying to teach you!" Miguel snapped. He held Tulio's hands in his, pulling him up to his feet. He then turned them over and looked at them. They were callused and worn-looking, unlike Miguel's whose fingertips only had calluses from playing guitar. He gripped them tightly, and the brunette winced.
"I'm sorry, and thank you for trying to teach me. I'm just upset because it seems like the chores are getting harder. I haven't slept much because I'm always working." Miguel nodded his understanding. His aunt was a horrible tyrant to his friend. She had low opinions on servants and their families, and he'd seen her hit Tulio before. He'd run away crying, telling his mom and his uncle, who'd both been shocked. Aunt Adriana had just said that servants needed to know their place, and that Tulio had been neglecting his chores. Miguel had argued that he was bored and needed someone to play with. He'd then gotten into trouble for getting Tulio in trouble, though he was only told off. When he'd gone to the other boy to apologize, by order of his mother, his friend had still had an angry red mark on his face. Miguel had hugged him and cried for his sake, because Tulio had admitted long ago that he was sure he'd forgotten how to cry.
Miguel got an idea. "Let's go to the stables again today! I'll teach you more things!"
Tulio shook his head. "I have to finish here, and then I have to go help with lunch, and then do the dishes, and then do the laundry, and then –"
"Why do you have to do all the chores?" Miguel demanded. Tulio's face darkened.
"Because my mom died a month ago, and I'm filling in for her."
Miguel's eyes teared up. "I'm sorry; I didn't realize how long it'd been since I'd visited. I didn't think she'd ever..." The little boy started crying, and the brunette dropped his rag and hugged him.
"She told me not to be sad that she'd gone, but to be glad that she was around for so long." He patted his friend's back reassuringly.
"But she's gone, Tulio. I can't even – hic – imagine what it'd be like–"
"You insolent little pest!" screamed an enraged woman's voice. In the blink of an eye, the scrawny little arms of the twelve year old boy that had been wrapped around Miguel were ripped from him. He watched his friend be thrown to the ground, his head hitting the tile with a crack! He sat up, winded, and looked around dazedly.
"Adriana?" called another woman's voice. It was softer, with a more motherly hint to it, and the willowy blond woman who came in the door after her sister-in-law gasped at what she saw. "Miguel, baby, what's wrong?"
"This little rat made him cry!" Adriana screeched, pointing at Tulio with a claw-like finger. "And he was hugging him! Miguel, go wash up, before you catch a disease or something!"
Miguel ran to his mother and buried his face in her skirt. "His mama died!" he sobbed, reverting to the younger version of mom in his vulnerable state. Olivia's eyes widened with shock.
"How long ago?" she asked Tulio.
Surprised at being spoken to, the brunette replied softly, "a month." Hugo rounded the corner, looking from one woman to the next with a confused expression.
"Adriana, he's a child! Leave him time to mourn!" Olivia told her sister-in-law.
"A month is enough!"
"A month for what?" Hugo asked.
"His mother passed away a month ago, and you have him working? Brother, I'm disappointed in you."
"Don't look at me!" Hugo sputtered, looking at his wife. He then looked down at Tulio, still sprawled on the floor. "How would you like to join us for lunch, young man?"
Everyone in the room looked at the man of the house, shocked, and asked, "What?"
"A strong man like that needs something to eat. Working an adult's load, and not even crying about his mother, he's a good little soldier. I won't have him fainting from hunger." The blond man nodded decidedly, looking around at everyone. He walked up to Tulio and grabbed his hand, then walked away with him. They didn`t look anything alike, but considering the proud glow around Hugo and the fact that he hadn`t yet been blessed with children of his own, Tulio might've been his son.
Olivia left Adriana to simmer by herself, Miguel still sniffling and holding onto her skirt. When he glanced back at her, he could have sworn his aunt was waving her arms and stomping her feet in a silent fit. Despite the fact that he'd been crying a moment earlier, the little blond boy giggled.
Author's Note: Wow that got looooong. Wait for part two of them as kids! It will be up soon!