"Papa! Look what I caught!"
A small bundle of dark frizzy hair and dirt-stained cheeks tumbled down the paved pathway beside the docks, the ocean sparkling as bright as the boy's excited blue eyes. He pulled on his father's sleeve impatiently with one hand while trying to hold onto the cause of his delight with the other. A pair of nervous gray eyes apprehensively glanced at the boy below him way before they flitted back to the fishing rod clasped tightly in his grip.
"Not now, Tulio. I'm busy," Víctor murmured quietly. The boy stuck out his lower lip and released the fisherman's sleeve reluctantly. His father was always busy.
"You're just sitting there," he muttered vengefully. If the man in front of him heard he gave no sign of it. Tulio peeked down at the object squeezed between his fingers and looked up at Víctor once more before turning back towards the sea, his previous energy having dissipated with his father's dismissal. When he reached the water's edge he almost regretted returning the tiny fish to the ocean, but as he watched the small creature disappear behind the foaming waves his earlier excitement seemed incredibly misplaced and his remorse quickly passed.
It wasn't really all that important anyways.
It was easier to wake up the next morning than it had been in weeks. Tulio came into consciousness slowly, taking in a deep breath. As the events of the previous day settled in his mind, Tulio kept his eyes shut. The Spaniard almost didn't want to open his eyes, scared that when he did Miguel would be gone. That the whole thing would just be a dream and that Miguel would be across the room in his own bed, drooling on his own pillows.
As if he needed reassurance first, Tulio stretched out his arm in search of his partner's warmth. When his fingers slipped over the edge of the mattress, Tulio circled back, hoping that somehow he'd just missed it. Soon his hand was wildly covering the surface of the bed, and he snapped open his eyes in disbelief. There was no Miguel. His fear had seemed silly at first, but now it shot through his veins like a fatal disease.
He told himself to calm down. Miguel sometimes got up early in the morning and did a bit of wandering. Tulio wanted to roll his eyes at the small sting on his pride at the thought of Miguel leaving before he had a chance to wake up with him, but he cast the notion aside. They were just going to have to get used to this new thing they had.
He pondered for a moment about what exactly that new thing was. Could he define it with sharp edges and slap on a name? The term boyfriend didn't seem to quite fit, but lover didn't seem much better. Tulio supposed that technically they could just keep calling each other partners.
Partner. The word held so much more meaning now.
Tulio stretched his arms above his head and yawned, trying to think of how to keep himself occupied until Miguel returned. He hopped to his feet and crossed the room, pulling open a loose drawer. Inside he found an old pair of black dice and a new pair of red ones, and pulled them out, setting them on a nearby table.
He'd been trying to figure out how to make loaded dice for a while. The gypsy caravans often sold them, but he figured it'd be a much better investment to just make them by himself. However, as he poked around with the black dice and tried to divulge its secrets, he found himself peering more and more frequently at the door.
It felt as if eons had passed before the thought first occurred to him. At first, he mentally shook his head at the idea and immediately dismissed it, knowing that Miguel would never actually do it. But then, as more time passed, he thought of more and more things he'd assumed Miguel would never do that Miguel had, in fact, done. The memories made him purse his lips nervously. His thoughts were sent back to the previous day and to their argument and his breathing became even more ragged.
He could have changed.
Tulio knew better. He knew that people, especially people like Roberto, didn't change. But Miguel, the idealist that he was, always wanted to give second chances. It was simultaneously one of the things Tulio loved and dreaded the most about his partner.
He glanced at the door again. Miguel had never outright promised he wouldn't go back. Tulio cursed himself under his breath. He should have gotten it in writing. He tossed both pairs of dice back into their cupboard, thoroughly disgusted with himself. He poked his head outside the door and looked back and forth, then did a quick walk-about around their house. No Miguel. Tulio's breath grew shorter and shorter as he searched, only one realization coming to mind.
Miguel had gone back to his father's house after all.
The Spaniard wouldn't bother with searching all of Seville again. This time he knew exactly where his partner had gone.
He had felt nervousness before, but this went beyond just mere butterflies. It felt more like an entire hive of bees had been released in his stomach, and the eight-year-old boy held his belly in an attempt to hold them in. He could think of nothing more embarrassing than to puke insects for a first impression. The small group of kids hanging out next to the docks hadn't noticed him yet, even though Tulio was there so often he practically lived there. Or perhaps they had noticed him, and just wanted Tulio to think they hadn't.
It wouldn't be the first time.
The boy took in a small shaky breath, and took a few small steps forward until he was just a few paces away from the huddle of children.
"Hey."
The child's voice was drowned out by the babble of those around him. Tulio's courage practically flew out the window, but he made himself clear his voice and try again. "Hey."
The children around him ceased their chatter and glanced at him uneasily. The boy's intelligent blue eyes blinked nervously as the kids appraised him coldly. One boy, the tallest of the bunch, stepped forward until he was directly in front of Tulio. His grin could have been friendly, if Tulio hadn't already seen a million like it. His teeth were aligned strangely, giving him an ugly pair of buck teeth, and Tulio tried desperately not to stare.
"Tulio, right?" he asked. Tulio held back a smile as Buck Tooth identified him, pride sparking in his chest at the thought that finally somebody recognized him.
"Yeah, that's me," he said, jutting a thumb to his chest. A blonde girl peered out from behind Buck Tooth, her brown eyes wide with recognition as well. Another girl shifted her eyes away from the group as if she knew what was coming next. The boy who had identified him grinned widely and stepped closer to Tulio.
"Aren't you the freak who killed his mom?"
Just like that, any delusion that these children would become his immediate best friends vanished, and if the sudden jolt of pain that shot through his veins was any indication, Tulio suspected that these kids recognized him for all the wrong reasons. He took a step back and crossed his arms.
"I'm not a freak. You're a freak." Buck Tooth grinned his disgusting grin again, as if he had already assumed he'd won. Even Tulio had to admit it wasn't one of his better comebacks.
"Yeah, well at least my mother's still alive."
Somehow, it was those words that drove a splinter through the boy's heart more than any accusations they could thrust upon him. Tulio knew his faults, he knew he wasn't perfect, but the reminder that other kids had what he never would was too much.
"Shut up!" It felt surreal, as if it was not actually Tulio speaking, even though he could feel his lips moving and could see the shock alight in the blonde girl's eyes.
"Did you really kill your mum?" she piped up, her brown eyes wide with disbelief. Tulio shook his head and took a step back, wishing he'd never seen these children.
"It wasn't my fault." His voice cracked and his throat tightened with the threat of tears. Tulio swallowed back the looming knot rising in his throat. Even to him, the statement sounded weak. Like an excuse – an alibi.
A lie.
"Is that what they told you?"
"It wasn't my fault!"
Before Buck Tooth could reply, the blue-eyed boy was already kicking up dust in the opposite direction, his sleeve wiping away tears he refused to let fall.
"Oh come on! I was gone for like a half hour."
Miguel dropped the small bundle of food on the table and sighed dramatically. The thought of this happening had occurred to him, but he at least thought Tulio would wait longer than that. Miguel shook his head slowly. He should have known better; the Spaniard panicked far too easily. He should have waited for Tulio to wake up before going out for food, but at the time he just wanted a small amount of time to reflect.
And reflect he had done. Everything had looked different that morning. The streets had seemed so much more open and inviting, the people far kinder – well, their harsh words had seemed far less menacing at least. The air had felt fresh in his lungs and he bounced on his heels as he waited in line to pay, thinking that he couldn't wait to get home and see Tulio again.
But when he had managed to shut the door behind him with his feet and peered over the top of his parcel of food to see a room void of his partner, he had closed his eyes in annoyance. His intent had been for Tulio to still be asleep when he had returned, but apparently the stubborn Spaniard had immediately assumed the worst.
Miguel took a deep breath and told himself Tulio had just stepped out to use the bathroom. He'd be right back.
The blond set about the task of pulling the food out of the bag and setting it on the table; a couple loaves of bread and some apples. He had almost gotten oranges before he remembered how much Tulio hated them. Besides, what would be better to eat on your first day as lovers than the thing that caused one to initially hate the other? Tulio would appreciate the irony, he was sure.
He wanted to wait for Tulio to return before eating, but the enticing smell of fresh-baked bread was far too tempting for him to wait. He nibbled on a slice and accommodated himself on a small wooden chair right next to the table. He stared at the door until his teeth grazed his fingers before he finally let himself believe what he had known all along.
Tulio had assumed he'd gone back to his father's.
He had to admit, the idea had crossed his mind once or twice. But Tulio's argument last night had made him remember every moment his father had demoralized him and he closed his eyes as the unwelcome images flashed before his eyes once more.
It had started with the small things. His father wouldn't let him grow out his hair or choose his clothing. He had to spend so much time studying each day, and he was only allowed to leave the house three times a week for an hour. Even then his destination was chosen for him. There was hardly any room for happiness wedged in there, let alone friends.
Which was why, in the end, he had gone with Tulio willingly. It was still to this day, the best decision of his entire life, mostly because it was the first one he'd made on his own. He couldn't begin to comprehend what it was that had made him think going back home was a good idea, but he was glad his partner had knocked some sense into him. It was one of the many reasons he kept him around.
He wasn't sure for a moment what he should do, but he was positive from the beginning it was either going to be stupid or crazy. In this case, it was likely to be both. He wrapped the bread back into the cloth it came in so it wouldn't grow too stale, knowing that they would need to eat when they both returned home that night, and slipped out the door.
"Hurry it up, would you?"
"Hey! Get your filthy, wretched little hands out of my dinner!"
"If I find a single speck of dirt on those you won't see a single coin for the next week!"
"Oy, you better 'ave those back by tonight or my 'usband will wring your little chicken neck, ya 'ear?"
Oh, he heard all right. He heard very clearly. Each time he wanted to whirl around and whack them upside their selfish, overblown heads. He wanted to think of some clever retort and shove it in their faces. He wanted oh-so desperately to make them regret ever opening their big, fat, stupid mouths.
But he bit his tongue, and swallowed whatever words he was going to say. These people were bigger than he was and, loathe as he was to admit it, better than he was. Being called the lowest of names can sometimes lead you to believe you're the lowest of people. So his replies never got much cleverer than, "Yes, si — ma'am."
Once a month he got paid to shut his mouth and scrub clothes that hardly showed any signs of grime or sweat; so that's what he did. And at the end of the day, when they dropped a couple doubloons in his hand and kicked him out the door, Tulio held onto the fact that it was worth it to see the briefest flicker of pride in his father's eyes when he came home with a bag full of coins.
Even if he knew he was only imagining it.
When Tulio found himself staring at Miguel's old house for the second time that week, he realized how much things can change in a short amount of time. The day before, the place had been an utter wreck; overgrown grass and weeds, peeling paint, broken fence. But within less than twenty-four hours, Roberto had managed to make his house seem much more presentable. The weeds were almost all gone, the fence mended, and the door smelled of fresh paint. But when Tulio looked closely, he could see the indents of the ground where the weeds had been pulled. He could still detect the crack in the fence where it had been broken, and he noticed faint bulges of chipping paint beneath the fresh coat.
Overall it felt completely fake – a perfect reflection of Sir Rubio de la Salarza himself.
He suddenly wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. Should he just march up to the door and demand to see Miguel? Could he even do such a thing? Miguel would have had to see this coming. He couldn't possibly have believed Tulio would just have sat back at home.
Tulio eventually decided on tact. Parading up to the front door was such a Miguel thing to do, and in this situation he knew that would be the wrong approach. Instead, he snuck around to the back of the house until he could see all the various windows. He wasn't sure which one Miguel was in and which one Roberto was in, but he kind of figured that if he stood far back enough he'd be able to see into one far enough to tell.
He took several large steps back and peered into one of the windows. It was difficult to tell what was inside, but from what he could see it looked like it was just an empty room of furniture. He leaned against the fence for stability as he tried to balance on his toes, craning his neck in an effort to see. He had never been in Miguel's old room before, but he assumed he would know it when he saw it.
He was about to crawl on top of the railing when he saw a shadow flash in front of one of the windows. Fighting to hold back a triumphant smile, he rushed towards the window it was under and cupped his hands around his mouth.
"Miguel!" He called out, his voice no louder than a whisper. He saw the flash again and waited silently for his partner to open the shutter. When no such occurrence took place he pursed his lips and tried again. "Miguel!"
There was a dull thud from inside the house as if someone had jumped and hit something. Tulio felt a swell of hope rise in his chest as he realized that Miguel was always one to be easily startled. However, when the window slid open and the broad face popped out, the Spaniard felt his hope crumble like dust in the wind.
"What are you doing here, Rivera?" Roberto's voice was cold, yet his russet eyes burned with rage. Tulio took an uncertain step back, glancing over his shoulder as if he expected the man to suddenly materialize behind him.
"I'm here for Miguel." He had fully meant for his voice to come out confident and strong, and he had definitely intended for Roberto to wither under his penetrating gaze, although Tulio should have gathered by that point things hardly went according to his plans.
Roberto was silent for a moment, and Tulio felt himself swallow as the man stared at him. Tulio was building up the courage to repeat himself when Roberto finally spoke again, his voice quiet. "Haven't you interfered in his life enough?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" The outburst was immediate and Tulio had to fight not to shrink away from his tone, not wanting to admit that he was at least a little bit scared of this man. He couldn't understand how Miguel hadn't run off sooner.
"Like I told you yesterday, Miguel was on his way to becoming a great man. He could have been a scholar or a politician. But no, he always wanted to be an explorer. That damn Cortés and de León. The whole lot of them filled my son's head with thoughts of adventure. When he wasn't parading around the house like he was brandishing a sword he was singing about how he was going to be a musician. He didn't want something practical like a physician, no he wanted anything but. He wanted to be an actor or an artist. I was so close to getting that behavior out of him. He would have been a wonderful contribution to society. Then he met you and that chance flew out that window."
It took Tulio a moment to respond, his eyelids half-blinking in shock. He had never thought of it that way; Miguel had never told him he could have had any of those professions. The blond had never wanted to talk about his old home life, and Tulio had respected that, having experienced first-hand just how bad it must have been. Though Tulio could still comprehend why Miguel had wanted to leave, he was beginning to fathom his father's side of the story, and that notion scared him more than anything.
Although, Tulio decided with a silent cackle, Miguel wasn't cut out for the scholar life. He'd have been about as helpful as a potato to those overblown pinheads.
"You're insane," Tulio taunted, feeling quite sure the old man would fall for it.
Sure enough, Roberto narrowed his eyes and pulled the shutters closed. Tulio reckoned he only had a set amount of time before the front door would be locked, so he catapulted himself over the picket fence and sprinted for the door. His shoulder slammed into the door and halted his progress. He jammed his hand in the handle and pulled the trigger, bursting into the entry hallway. "Miguel!" he shouted, "Get down here you twit."
Maybe it was because Tulio was more experienced now – or perhaps it was because he was much taller – but the interior of Miguel's house no longer seemed magical like it was the last time he'd been there. When he was a child stepping beyond the boundaries of his little impoverished life and walking into the prince's palace, he had been mesmerized. Now, the white floors no longer seemed spotless, and he couldn't detect the shine of polished marble in the walls anymore. The chandelier seemed much smaller and the hallway felt like it was squeezing the life out of him.
He heard a thumping of feet on the stairs and whirled around, hoping to see the blond hair and green eyes he was so fond of. Instead, he saw Roberto ambling down the steps at warp speed; his dark brown eyes were alight with flames.
"How dare you enter my home!" he bellowed, face red with rage.
"Yeah, yeah, save the pleasantries for someone who cares," Tulio muttered under his breath. "Where's Miguel?"
Roberto didn't respond, simply shoved past the conman on his way to the door. Tulio's eyes widened as they saw Roberto's hand bolt the lock and the sound of its ominous click filled the air. Roberto lifted his gaze and his brown eyes were cold and dark; characteristically so. Tulio's stomach dropped as he was suddenly reminded of why he used to fear this man so much. It was those eyes; hard as flint and as unmovable as mountains. Tulio would never in a million years understand what it was that made Miguel stay with him for so long, though he supposed in a way it was the same reason Tulio had stayed with his own father. Once you spent so much time chasing after something, you felt this strange sense of loss at the thought of letting it go.
When Roberto finally spoke, a chill ran down Tulio's spine and a cold sweat beaded on his neck.
"You shouldn't have come here, Tulio."
Mónica Catalina Rivera.
It was a name he had heard many times in his life; those three words had haunted him since the day he was born. Obviously, he had never heard them once from his father, but there were far worse ways to learn about how your mother died. And, of course, the worst way was often the one that found him – as was the way of this world.
After all, where he came from, the whispers felt more like screams.
He had never known her. He'd never heard a story, or heard the fond retelling of a memory. He wasn't sure how she'd react to the choices he had made and the ones he hadn't, and he had no idea whether she'd be proud, disappointed, or if she'd even care. Hell, he didn't even have a face to tack onto the sad image he had conjured in his mind. All he had was a name.
It just wasn't enough.
Child birth was a tricky process, and sometimes people didn't make it all the way through; sometimes something went wrong. In that part of the world, 'sometimes' occurred more often than you'd think. Tulio curled his nose at the thought. It sounded like some sort of exclusive club.
And he was a member, but not a happy one.
The Spaniard crouched next to the small stone, pursing his lips gently. He didn't come here often. In fact, it hadn't been until recently he'd even known this had existed. Finding the tombstone of your deceased mother while hiding from a few kids you just stole from was not a pleasant experience. However, as soon as he caught sight of the words scrawled in the ivory stone, he had known that it was his mother that lay just below his feet.
And every so often, when the weight of the world almost seemed to crush open his chest, he would visit her and know that finally, finally he had just a little bit more than a name.
Miguel's steps were light as he approached his old house, green eyes flitting over the scene like a deer in hunting season. It looked exactly like he remembered it had, and the memories that the house alone sparked were enough to make him reconsider this entire endeavor.
What if he was wrong? What if Tulio was just at the pub and he was here for nothing?
Yeah, pub. The cantina sounded really good right about now.
"What the hell?" Miguel froze when the shout filled the empty air, unmistakably familiar.
Tulio.
"Oh, God." Miguel ran his hands though his hair as he stared at the front door. He only hesitated for a moment before he found himself catapulting himself at the door. He hissed a curse under his breath when he found the handle locked. Miguel briefly considered beating his hand against the door and begging to be let in.
Suddenly he remembered an old trick he had used to sneak out at night after his father had been long asleep. He wasn't sure if it would work anymore; after he had been caught his father had quickly remedied the situation. But after all these years, Miguel would be surprised if Roberto had remembered to maintain it.
And then his legs were once again whipping him across his father's yard, this time carrying him to the back of the house. Miguel scoured the lawn quickly, a strange mixture of excitement and dread fizzling through his veins.
Then his eyes caught sight of something that made his chest weak with relief. At the far end of his house – just under the bathroom window – was a huge thicket of ivy that crawled up along the wall. The sight of the plant made Miguel's knees tingle as if the leaves were once again tickling his skin, and for a moment the blond could have sworn that it was the dead of night and he was fourteen again and sneaking off to do anything.
Suddenly Miguel shook his head, bringing himself back to the present. Before he knew what he was doing, Miguel found himself already heaving his body up the side of his house, his fingers scrabbling for indents that he could hold onto.
Miguel hissed under his breath when his leg smacked into the window pane as he tumbled headfirst into his old bathroom. He lay on the floor for a moment, waiting to see if he'd been heard, but the realization that he was lying on a bathroom floor had him on his feet without a second thought.
And that was when he paused. This was the point of the game where he would turn to Tulio, give him a large, flustered smile and ask, "What now?" But Tulio wasn't there to do that. Well, he was there, but not there there. Tulio was downstairs, going through whatever crazy stunt his father was pulling this time. Miguel felt a faint flicker of guilt before he took a deep breath and did what he did best: improvised.
He yanked open the door and hurtled himself down the stairs, not bothering to try and hush the sound his feet made as they impacted each step. Down the hall he heard a soft, "Did you hear that?" followed by a strained, "It's a bit – ugh – difficult to hear – over your insanity."
Miguel paused on the last step, his palm hovering above the handrail. He heard the distinct creak of the third door down the hall – the one with the squeaky hinges that always gave him away when he tried to sneak around at night – and then the ominous thudding of heavy, looming steps down the foyer.
The blond barely had time to swallow his fear before his father's face was suddenly peering down at him. Even with the advantage of being a step above him, Miguel's height just couldn't match up to Roberto's.
However, as Miguel stared defiantly up at his father, for the first time he did not feel the cold grip of fear squeeze his heart. In fact, he felt a strange bout of pity and alarm when he saw the state of the man in front of him, despite having just seen him the previous day. The bags under Roberto's eyes were dark, and his skin had turned an unflattering sallow shade. It was entirely uncomplimentary to the gray that had practically overcome his father's tangled mass of hair. Miguel was unsure whether his face was more skin or beard. It seemed as though Roberto had not slept for days, although judging from the size of his stomach he had spent all that extra time raiding the kitchen instead.
"Miguel…" Roberto breathed the word as if he hardly dared to believe it; like if he said his name too harshly he'd scare the blond off. Miguel, meanwhile, was completely unsure where to place his hands. He let them dangle at his sides before feeling far too exposed, and then wrung them in front of his stomach before realizing it made him look too nervous. Finally he crossed his arms, determined to not let his hands have an opinion in the matter.
"Where's Tulio?" Miguel asked, his voice coming out in a croak. He cleared his throat and averted his eyes, desperate not to see what he was sure would be a flicker of annoyance in his father's eyes.
Roberto chuckled softly before dropping his hand onto Miguel's shoulder. Surprised, Miguel almost allowed his knees to buckle under the unexpected contact. He automatically snapped his gaze back to his father's face and gulped at the crazed look gleaming in his brown eyes.
"Why don't you come and see?"
He woke up to the sound of coughing.
At first, he tried to ignore it, telling himself it was just his sleep-addled brain. However, just as his eyes were closing again he heard it once more: a loud hacking sound that seemed eerily familiar.
Carefully, Tulio swung his legs over the side of the bed and snuck out into the front room, following the sound of wheezing until he found himself standing in front of his father's door. Tulio stared at the doorknob, eyes wide as saucers. He had never once stepped foot beyond this shadowy domain, and he wasn't sure he wanted to start now.
Suddenly there was the sound of retching that caused Tulio's stomach to churn. Slowly, as if he was in a dream, Tulio pushed open the door and stepped into his father's bedroom.
Immediately Tulio recoiled at the horrid scent that seemed embedded into the very walls. It was like a disgusting mixture of spoiled meat and disease. Spain didn't exactly smell like roses, but surely this was crossing some sort of line.
The choking sound started up again, causing Tulio to jump. He scanned his eyes around the room until they settled on the bed in the center, and Tulio could not hold back his gasp.
Huddled in a ball in the corner of his mattress, was Tulio's father. His skin was flushed, sweat beaded at his brow. His eyes were half-closed, as if he wanted to fall asleep but was terrified he wouldn't wake back up. Tulio took a step back when Victor brought his hand up to his face and began hacking again.
"Dad?" Tulio's voice was no more than a whisper, but the silence that followed made it seem like a scream.
"What are — you doing in here?" Victor rasped, his sentence interrupted by a series of coughs. "Are you tr–trying to get sick? Get out."
"But—"
"Out!" Victor cried as loud as he could before dissolving into another fit of wheezes. Tentatively, Tulio backed out of the room, already making plans to visit the doctor in the morning.
He didn't care what it cost – he couldn't afford to lose anything else.
Tulio wasn't quite sure what had happened. One minute he was having a stare-down with Roberto and trying to judge what exactly he was going to do, and the next moment he was sprinting down the closest hallway and jiggling doorknobs at random to see if any were unlocked. The Spaniard had to admit he had not expected Roberto to outrun him considering he seemed as though he had long ago forsaken the action. He remembered a splintering pain in the backside of his head, and then the crack of his skull as it slammed into the marble floor before darkness overtook him.
Now, he blearily blinked open his eyes, feeling a groan rumble in his chest. He tried to raise a hand to wipe at his eyes, but his arms refused to listen to him. A tendril of fear coiled itself around his heart as a thousand different possibilities came to mind. Had he been paralyzed? Had someone chopped off his arms or…or…
Or tied him up against a chair.
Tulio's hands were bound to the arms of a wooden seat, his ankles tied to the legs. The rope holding him down was thick and knotted like someone who knew what they were doing. Tulio pulled against the restraints, grimacing as the harsh rope dug into his wrists. He muttered a string of curses and swung his gaze across the room as if he would find a way out of this situation just lying on the floor nearby.
He was in a fancy looking room with white walls and an oak floor. The ceiling was expansive, and stretched far above his head. In the center there was a large bed, the sheets thrown about haphazardly. There were two doors that led off to other parts of the mansion, and Tulio appraised them both in an effort to decide which one he'd choose if he managed to escape.
"That didn't take long," a voice growled nearby. "I expected you to be out longer."
Tulio jumped, looing around to find the source of the noise. In the corner, he found Roberto lounging on a small sofa, his legs sprawled up on an adjacent table. Miguel's father was flicking through a large book as casually as if this was a regular occurrence for him, and Tulio was merely a weekly guest.
"What the hell?" Tulio shouted, pulling at his restraints once more. At Tulio's words Roberto carefully placed a ribbon to mark his place and set the book aside, dropping it next to an exquisite glass lamp in the shape of a swan. He heaved his legs off the table with what looked like a great effort.
"This isn't personal," he began, before cutting himself off. "Well, it is a bit personal. You know, because I absolutely detest you. But I'm not going to hurt you quite yet." As he spoke, Tulio thought about how crazy this all was. How had this deranged psycho managed to raise someone like Miguel without thoroughly messing him up?
"Great," Tulio huffed as he tried once again to escape from the cord. "I can really tell where Miguel got his — ugh — manners from."
"Naturally," Roberto replied. If he noticed the sarcasm oozing from Tulio's words he gave no hint of it. "Did you think he'd learnt it from a thief?" Tulio opened his mouth to throw back an icy retort where there was a loud series of crashes, like someone had tripped and tumbled down the stairs. A feeling of dread settled in Tulio's stomach when he realized who that had to be.
Roberto must have made the same connection, because his face split into a wide grin and revealed broken and yellow teeth. "Did you hear that?" he asked hoarsely.
Tulio yanked once more at the ropes, ignoring the slices they were leaving on his skin in favor of buying his partner some time.
"It's a bit – ugh – difficult to hear – over your insanity," he hissed, hoping to enrage him enough to keep him in this room. But Roberto merely glowered at him darkly before abandoning him and rushing out into the hall.
Tulio heard the distant muffle of politely strained conversation, and his hunch that the intruder was Miguel was immediately confirmed. Tulio leaned down to see if he could pull at the knot with his teeth, but he couldn't even reach the rope. With an annoyed sniff, he pulled his legs forward, trying to think of a creative way to release his feet.
Suddenly he heard the sound of approaching footsteps and he snapped his posture upright, trying to make himself look very comfortable and not at all like he was tied up in a maniac's castle with ropes digging painfully into his skin.
Tulio was the first thing Miguel saw when he entered the room, and Tulio felt a twinge of guilt as his partner's eyes instantly grew wide with horror. Miguel had no chance to release him before his father ambled in seconds later, herding his son over to an opposite corner.
"What's going on?" Miguel demanded. Tulio resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Was it really not obvious?
"I knew that if your friend was here you wouldn't be far behind," Roberto said proudly. "So I decided to keep him here for – er – safe-keeping."
"Nutter," Tulio said under his breath. Roberto's jaw clenched but he didn't reply.
"Anyways," Roberto continued, "that's not the issue." The old man moved until he was in front of Miguel, the blond nervously taking a step back. "Miguel, have you thought over my proposition?"
Miguel was blinking rapidly and he opened and closed his mouth several times. Tulio watched from the sidelines curiously. Finally, Tulio cleared his throat and it seemed to snap Miguel out of whatever trance he had been in. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I have."
"And?" Roberto urged impatiently, hardly giving Miguel time to elaborate.
"And…" Miguel peered over Roberto's shoulder and caught Tulio's gaze. Tulio shook his head, his blue eyes spelling danger. Miguel swallowed and turned back towards his father. "And I'm not going to live here." Miguel's brow furrowed and he stared at the ground as he rambled onwards. "And I'm not going to stay here either, or visit, or write, or anything. Because…you…" Miguel had lifted his eyes and when he saw the expression on his father's face his bottom lip trembled, causing his words to cease. Tulio felt a flare of anger and he pulled once more against the restraints, a growl rising in his throat.
"I thought it might come to this," Roberto said gravely, his voice not wavering despite his son's speech. He took a step towards Tulio and reached a hand into the pocket of his own white vest. Instinctively, Tulio leaned as far away as he could, his feet scrabbling against the floor as he tried to push the chair in the opposite direction.
"Twelve years is a long time to think – too long, in fact." Roberto's hand withdrew from his pocket and both Miguel and Tulio let out a hiss of alarm. "For a while I thought you must have been kidnapped. Obviously, there could be no other conclusion." Dull thuds echoed around the bedroom as Roberto drew closer and closer to Tulio. "But after about two years or so I began to realize you must have run off on your own. Who in their right mind would steal my son, after all?" He twirled the knife in his hand slowly; dangerously. "And then…then I realized…" Roberto finally met Tulio's gaze, and Tulio felt the air leave his body. "Somebody had.
"I've been looking for you two for a long time," Roberto said, his voice suddenly soft. "This house has just been far too empty without my wife and child. I never dreamed it would take twelve long years, but after a while the months just melted together." Roberto leaned down until he was level with Tulio, and Tulio tried not to crinkle his noise as hot breath wafted over the thief's face. "And now here you are…" Roberto trailed off, lost in thought.
"Father — Dad…wh…" Miguel's voice constricted into an oddly high interval and Tulio felt something in his chest clench at the expression on his partner's face. Roberto seemed to come to his senses once he heard his son's voice and quickly straightened himself, whirling around to face Miguel.
"You have no idea what's it like," Roberto whispered. "This house is too big for one man."
Miguel's face suddenly softened, and Tulio felt a blaze of frustration. Miguel was not allowed to feel sorry for this psychopath.
"Luckily you're big enough for two," he blurted, not bothering to try and stop himself. Miguel kept staring at his father, but Tulio felt a twinge of satisfaction when the blond had to purse his lips to keep himself from laughing.
"Think this is funny, do ya?" Roberto's head whipped back and forth between Miguel and Tulio, his eyes bulging enough to pop out of their sockets. His face began turning a bright shade of magenta and his knuckles turned white as his grip on the knife in his hand tightened. "Well, you're sure to find this hilarious." Tulio knew he had crossed a line when Roberto closed to distance to Tulio and grabbed his hair, pulling his head back.
"No!" Miguel cried out in one burst. He took a step closer but held himself back when Roberto pressed the knife to Tulio's cheek in warning. The blood drained from Miguel's face when Tulio let out an involuntary hiss at the cool touch.
"I've tried being nice," Roberto said, his voice trembling with rage. "But I am not letting you leave this house again. If you stay willingly, Rivera lives. But if you don't…" Neither of them needed Roberto to finish that sentence.
"He dies?" Miguel's voice was incredulous, and Tulio vaguely wondered why he didn't seem a bit more put-off by the idea.
"Son, you know I hate to resort to these measures but I really feel that — why…why are you laughing?" Tulio wanted to ask the same question. Miguel leaned against the bed post as he doubled over, his face turning pink, though Tulio was unsure whether it was real amusement or just nerves.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, this is — this is just far too cheesy. You're seriously resorting to murder? You do realize that—" Miguel's amusement dissipated as he stared down at the arms of the chair, where Tulio was desperately wiggling his fingers in what he hoped what a panicked fashion.
Over the years, they had found themselves in many scrapes in which speaking the plan out loud was just simply not an option. One night, after a particularly stressful con including two drunkards and a crate full of fish, they had bunkered down and created a simple system of sign language that they could use to communicate with each other. Using only his fingers limited the things he could say, but he felt that the message was getting across just fine. He curled his right hand into a fist.
Wait.
"Realize what?" Roberto asked, suspicion leaking into his voice. Miguel stared at Tulio's hands, waiting as long as he could for another sign, but Tulio couldn't convey what he wanted unless he could use his whole arm. Frustrated, he crossed both of his fingers.
Food.
Miguel blinked, and Tulio tried to hold back a groan. Tulio crossed his fingers fiercely until his knuckles turned white.
Food, damn it!
"Cheesy…" Miguel's mouth suddenly dropped slightly, but in the same fluid motion he snapped it shut so that Tulio was unsure if he had only imagined it.
"What?" Roberto asked, suddenly perplexed.
"Um — I mean, I would simply perish without him!" Miguel flung the back of his hand over his forehead and leaned against the bedpost, this time for a different reason. "Oh how I remember the days in which I so foolishly mocked the cheesy romances that have plagued our stories for centuries. But now, now I truly see the tragedy behind Romeo's anguish. Woe is the man who lives without his beloved! How shall I ever continue?"
Tulio gave him a thumbs-up at the same time that Roberto sputtered, "Beloved?"
Tulio wiggled his index finger up and down.
Down.
He had meant to tell Miguel to tone it down a bit, but sliding to the floor seemed to work as well.
"That's not – never mind, we'll speak about that later. What'll it be? Hm?" Roberto didn't seem especially interested in the mess his son was turning into on the floor, his chest heaving with sobs that gave even Tulio pause.
"Miguel! Don't do it!" Tulio suddenly shouted. The blond peered up at him, his eyebrows screwed up in utter confusion. Tulio quickly tapped his thumb against his pinkie.
Yes.
Suddenly Miguel flung himself at his father's feet. "Alright, you win, you win! I'll stay with you, just release my friend." Roberto barked in triumph, reflecting the feeling currently soaring through Tulio's veins. Miguel had played his part beautifully.
Tulio felt Roberto's grip weaken, and he took this as his chance. Quick as a whip, he turned his head and grasped the knife in his teeth and ripped it out of Roberto's grasp, flinging it across the room. The blade skidded across the floor and smacked into the wall with a heavy thump. Roberto cursed, and Miguel immediately swept his arms in front of him and knocked his father's feet out from under him.
With a deafening crash Roberto's mighty figure was felled with a thunderous roar. Miguel jumped back, and Tulio instinctively yanked his weight away from the catastrophe and ended up toppling onto his side.
"Ow."
From his new position on the ground Tulio could not see what was happening. He heard the sound of what must have been Roberto struggling to his feet, and the immediate scuffle that unfolded when Miguel tried to keep him away from Tulio. When he tried craning his neck to see the battle, he caught sight of the abandoned weapon lying a foot away. Hoping that neither of them would notice him, Tulio threw his weight around again and inched closer to the blade.
Tulio heard something smash and the unmistakable tinkle of broken glass. With a newfound desperation, Tulio's muscles bulged as he used as much strength as possible to get to the knife. He was only a few inches away…
Suddenly he heard Miguel yelp in pain, and after a moment he heard a thump and the sound of a body crumpling to the ground.
"Miguel?" he called out, not pausing his efforts. There was no response, and Tulio could feel raw emotions pumping through his body. Fear, anger, hatred, love, anger, anger, anger.
He suddenly heard a grunt, followed by light footsteps. Tulio quickly reached out his neck until he could feel the sinister edge of the knife caress his lips and he only had to get it to his hand, just his hand—
"Need some help with that?"
The weapon tumbled from Tulio's lips as he let out a bout of shrill laughter, nerves causing his hands to shake. "You had me there for a second. How long were you watching me worm my way across the floor?"
"Not long." Miguel grasped the edge of the chair and righted him, reaching down to grab the knife. "But it was still pretty funny." Miguel began hacking at the thick ropes around Tulio's wrist, and Tulio allowed himself to glance at the other side of the room.
Scattered across the floor was the remnants of the swan lamp. Roberto's book was splayed against the floor, the ribbon marking his place hanging limply from the spine. And slumped across the table lay Salarza himself, his arms flung recklessly across his body.
"Damn," Tulio said, praise in his voice. "Wish that could have been me." Miguel smiled grimly, but otherwise didn't respond. "What did you do to him?"
"I, uh, smashed the lamp over his head." Sure enough, when Tulio glanced down at his hands, the thief could see a small trickle of blood where Miguel must have cut himself on the glass.
"Is he…you know…" Tulio wasn't sure if this was a question he was supposed to say out loud. But he was sure that if he was ever going to ask, it was better he did it now while the pain was still fresh, rather than putting it off for later.
"No," Miguel said firmly, digging the knife in deeper until he slipped and caught the side of Tulio's arm, drawing blood. Tulio yelped in surprise and Miguel's hands trembled as they hovered over the injury. "Damn it, I'm sorry, um—"
"I'm fine," Tulio lied. "Can you just undo the knots?" It was an infinitely safer option, but Miguel just shook his head.
"This is faster." Tulio held back the urge to say that, yes, this would kill him much faster, and instead hummed softly in response. Eventually, when Miguel's hands began shaking so much that he could no longer hold the knife, he whimpered and dropped his head against Tulio's chest. The blade fell to the floor with a soft clatter but Miguel didn't make any noise, just smashed his nose against Tulio's breast.
The room was silent for several tense moments as the events that just unfolded played over and over in their head. Tulio had known Salarza was crazy, but he'd never known he would resort to such measures. Tulio felt free to say that he'd had enough excitement to last him for the next ten years.
"Life sucks," Miguel finally whispered.
Tulio rested his chin against the top of Miguel's blond head – the only comfort he could currently offer. "Since when does it do anything else?" Miguel's laughter, gentle as a breeze and warm as fresh bread tickled his chest. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Do us both a favor and leave the dumb questions to me," Miguel replied curtly, taking a deep breath and leaning down to retrieve the knife. Tulio sat there patiently as Miguel slowly snapped the fibers of the rope until Tulio could finally yank free. He tugged the dagger from Miguel's grasp and had his other hand undone within a minute, reaching down to quickly undo his ankles as well.
As soon as he was free, he tossed the blade aside and enveloped Miguel in a hug. The blond instantly buried his face in the crook of Tulio's neck and wrapped his arms around the taller man.
"I take it you're not staying after all?" Tulio asked jokingly, suddenly feeling the need to make Miguel feel better, just as the blond always did for him. He felt Miguel shake his head against his shoulder and was slightly shocked to see how seriously his partner answered. Tulio pulled back, staring him in the eye.
"So," he began, his mouth twisting into a smile, "you'd simply perish without me, huh?" Miguel snorted and slapped his arms, but Tulio thrilled in the smile that finally graced his partner's lips.
"Shut up. And what was with that stupid clue? Food? Really?"
"It was supposed to mean cheesy," Tulio clarified. "It's not my fault I was restricted to only hands." As if in reminder, his arms suddenly throbbed with a sharp pain. "Jesus," he muttered under his breath as the sight of his ravaged skin. He ran his fingers over the spot when the knife had pricked his arm and spread the excess blood out of the way. It was a tiny cut, more of a poke to be honest. Tulio wasn't worried.
However, he was concerned about getting them home before a certain someone woke up from his nap. Tulio placed his hand on Miguel's shoulder, a familiar gesture for the both of them, and began leading him towards the exit.
"Wait, wait, do we just…leave him there?" Miguel asked, shooting a glance as the awkward angle his father was positioned.
"Yeah, that's basically how this works," Tulio said firmly, prodding his partner out the door and not even sparing a glance over his shoulder. "C'mon, let's go home."
"Tulio!"
The tall Spaniard stopped dead in his tracks and glanced behind him to see a kid running towards him full throttle. The blond yelped when he saw Tulio halt and barely managed to stop himself before ramming straight into him.
"Did you get it?" The words spilled out of Miguel's mouth in a rush and Tulio laughed.
"Course I did. Thanks to you, partner." He held up the tiny bag of medication as proof and Miguel smiled widely.
"So who is the medicine for?" Miguel asked. At this, Tulio faltered. He remembered the dank room in which his father wallowed, and recalled the bitter scent of his sickness hanging thick in the air. Unconsciously, Tulio bit his lip which didn't go unnoticed by his blond cohort.
"You don't have to tell me," said Miguel quickly. But Tulio needed someone he could trust. He'd never had a confidant before, but he'd always wanted one.
"It's for my father," Tulio confessed slowly, tasting the words on his lips as if they tasted foreign. "He's sick, but he refuses to admit it." Miguel suddenly stifled a laugh, and Tulio was opening his mouth to tell him to forget it when Miguel pointed at him in accusation.
"A—Are you going to drug your father?" he gasped, not nearly as horrified as her probably should have been. Tulio grinned cheekily but didn't respond. He looked over at his friend and saw that he staring at him with a humorous look in his green eyes.
Like emeralds.
Tulio blinked and coughed into his hand; looking away.
"So, what are you gonna do now?" Tulio found himself asking the question before he really thought about it. But it was a question he suddenly needed to know the answer to. He saw Miguel look at him through the corner of his eyes as if he wasn't sure what was happening.
"I was just going to go home." Miguel shrugged nonchalantly, but the idea of him doing that caused Tulio's mouth to dry considerably.
"Do you want to come with me?" Again, the words slipped out without his consent, but in a way he was glad they had because he knew he never would have said them otherwise. The shock on Miguel's face stunned him out of his rapture and for a moment he considered the possibility that Miguel might actually say no.
"You mean run away?" Miguel inquired. "With you?" It wasn't exactly what he had in mind, but once Miguel mentioned it the raven-haired boy couldn't get it out of his head. Could he take Miguel to his home? He could imagine it now: his father completely ignoring him as he tried to introduce his friend. Miguel would probably give him a soft smile that was meant to comfort but would be filled with the pity that burned the thief to his core. It was a better option than letting Miguel return to his home, but just barely. Tulio couldn't read his friends facial expression, though he assumed that would come in time. However, right now it was killing him not to know the blond's thoughts.
"Well, I mean we could – if you wanted to," Tulio mumbled. "We could just drop off this medicine and get the hell out of here." Tulio was grasped by an unexpected excitement that shook him to the core. He grabbed his friend's shoulder and squeezed it. He was never going to get sick of calling him that. His friend. His first and only friend. His buddy, his amigo, his partner, his friend.
"You wouldn't miss anyone, and no one would miss me," Tulio said softly, one last attempt to convince Miguel. "Haven't you ever just wanted to disappear?"
Something changed in Miguel's expression at those words. He could see the gears working in the blond's head as if he was trying to think about some way that this may not be real. But there was no time for thinking, only for yes or no.
Green eyes met blue and in that moment no words were necessary.
"Well what are we waiting for, partner?"