The weeks went by, but they weren't much better. Ernesto didn't start any more fights or threaten to leave again, but he still hated this place more than anything. Even just tolerating it was a challenge for him.
He stayed in his house and either paced around heatedly or stared out the window towards the city, counting down the days until he could be up there with everyone else, for once enjoying his afterlife and leaving this place behind for good. He imagined the fame and glory he'd receive once he had an actual place to live. When his daydreams became too much for him, he yanked the dirty curtain over the doorway, darkening the place until he couldn't see anything and collapsing onto his bed. He didn't move until the next day.
So far, when he did this, no one had tried to disturb him. If they did, Ernesto didn't know how he'd hold himself back.
Sometimes he tried to will himself to go outside. Every time he heard music playing, friendly laughter, jokes and banter exchanged constantly, Ernesto almost found himself wanting to join in. There had been times when he nearly stepped outside to join the fun, when he forgot where he was and flipped aside the curtain and started to dash down the stairs.
But if he let himself enjoy it, it would ruin him. He'd be stuck here forever and, if someone happened to see him, his reputation would be in shambles. So he resisted and refused, keeping himself calm instead by thinking of anything else but the happiness he could hear outside. He closed his mind to the pangs of jealousy he felt whenever he heard laughter or joking.
He'd already had practice doing that in life, so he was exellent at it here.
The situation itself was bad enough, but the people made it worse. Ernesto couldn't stand them, and it was clear that they despised him right back. Every time he thought about facing one of them, his annoyance grew to a full blown rage that he had work at keeping at bay.
First there was Lorenzo who, Ernesto could tell, had hated him as soon as he got here. Every time the two of them crossed paths, Ernesto knew that Lorenzo was dying for a fight. As far as Ernesto could tell, he hated the idea of Ernesto staying here more than anyone else did. His loyalty to Héctor was almost as strong as Héctor's loyalty to Ernesto had been years ago. It was clear that the second Héctor wasn't around, Lorenzo would drive Ernesto out of town himself.
Carlos was less obvious, but the defenses were still there. He didn't outright show any oppositions to Ernesto being there, but there were small things that Ernesto had noticed when he first arrived. He always stared at Ernesto apprehensively, veered out of the way when Ernesto walked toward him, and he also respected Héctor to such a high degree that anything Ernesto said sounded like a threat to him.
The older people in town never approached Ernesto. They kept their distance. With the exception of the old man who caught Ernesto when he tried to run away, they didn't accuse him or give him looks that would set these shacks on fire if that were possible. But they looked at him with so much sympathy, pity, so many fake feelings in their expressions that Ernesto hated them just as much as the other residents. He'd received enough of that when he was alive-- recovering from when Imelda beat him up, mourning his parents after they'd died, and in his early stages of fame when people debated if they should take him seriously-- so it was the last thing Ernesto needed here.
Last there was Ramiro, who Ernesto wasn't sure about. Ernesto could only vaguely remember him, but it was clear that Ramiro had kept every detail of their relationship in his mind. The thing Ernesto remembered the most about him was how insufferable he'd been-- he had terrible ideas for Ernesto's performances, he constantly made Ernesto uncomfortable, and they could never agree on anything. Eventually the two of them had a fight so big that the day after, Ramiro resigned and Ernesto never saw him again. To see him here was irritating, and it drove Ernesto crazy. It just served as another thing to forward to being away from in a few months.
Needless to say, Ernesto had no desire or reason to leave his house until his mansion was ready, and he didn't plan to. If he could stay in there, away from the irking joy, loud music, and coldness of Héctor's friends, then it would be enough to help him make it through.
There was a knock on the side of his house the next morning. Ernesto laid on the uncomfortable matress, willing himself to go to sleep to make the day pass by faster.
"Ernesto, come outside," a man's voice yelled from the outside.
Ernesto chose to ignore it, turning away from the sound.
"Ernesto, I know you're in there," he continued to shout, muffled by the wood of the house and Ernesto's distance from the doorway.
Ernesto groaned and heaved himself up, wincing the squeak that the springs made as he did so. He stormed to the doorway and threw the curtain aside, ripping part of it from its position with his force.
He startled; he'd anticipated seeing Héctor on the other side even though the two of them hadn't spoken since Ernesto's attempted escape.
But instead it was Lorenzo staring back at him, wearing a tight grey shirt, black pants that stopped above his ankles, and severely scuffed boots that looked to be a size too big on him. His sombrero hung over his face so Ernesto couldn't see his eyes, but from the way his arms were crossed over his chest, Ernesto knew he wasn't happy to be here.
Ernesto decided to copy him, standing up straight and folding his arms tightly over his chest as well, staring the man down. "Do you need something?" Fire crackled somewhere nearby in the silence, followed by raucous laughter that made Ernesto flinch.
Lorenzo smirked briefly, but it faded as quick as the laughing did. He huffed and rolled his eyes. "Héctor wants you to come hang out with us," he said tightly. "He told me to tell you that he wants you to play music with us for a few minutes."
A flash of annoyance shot through Ernesto's non-existent heart. Apparently Héctor's either too angry or too cowardly to talk to Ernesto straight, so he made one of his "family members" be his messenger.
Ernesto glared back at Lorenzo. "Tell him I'm not coming," he said coldly. The last thing he was going to do was talk to Héctor when Héctor didn't have the courage to talk to him.
Lorenzo sighed, holding up his hands. "Look, I don't want you there either, but for whatever reason, Héctor really wants you around and he wants to spend time with you."
Ernesto groaned. "Then he should've told me himself instead of sending you," he snapped. "Héctor should know that I don't waste time with cowards who can't even have a simple conversation with me."
Lorenzo pushed his sombrero up and rolled his eyes again. The fact that his eyes wre now visible, glowing in the dim light, was unsettling. "He's not scared of you, Ernesto. He's just giving you space. He figured you would still be upset with him for bringing you back, so he sent me to tell you instead." He lowered his voice. "If it were up to me, I would rather just let you suffer, but he cares about you so much that he almost started a fight with me when I suggested that."
Ernesto laughed bitterly. "He cares about me? Well, he has a funny way of showing it. I'm not listening to him until he can actually come out and tell me what he wants." He turned swiftly and started to walk away. "Now please leave. I have things to do."
He didn't see Lorenzo's expression, but Ernesto could hear the smirk in Lorenzo's next question. "Really, like what? Pacing in the darkness? Sitting on your bed all day?"
Curling his hands to fists, Ernesto stopped walking, his back still turned. "None of your business." He refused to let this intruder see how much the jab really bothered him.
"Sure." Lorenzo let out a light chuckle as he said the word. Then he grew serious again. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Ernesto. Like I said, I don't want you to come, but you don't have to stay for very long."
Ernesto didn't say anything in the silence that followed. The thought of seeing Héctor and everyone else made him want to punch the wall, but he didn't want to sit in his thoughts all day, either. Especially not after the night he'd had, where nightmares of his death taunted him until he didn't even want to close his eyes.
A minute longer passed before Lorenzo said, "If you do this, I'll leave you alone for the rest of your time here."
Ernesto sighed heavily, pressing a hand to his forehead tiredly. The next words he said were spoken through clenched teeth:
"Fine. You have a deal."
The area Lorenzo led him to was surprisingly isolated from the rest of the town. It wasn't that far away, but it was still darker than the other places and less populated. Only one fire and two nearly dead lamps illuminated the group of people huddled in the space, casting long shadows on the walls of the four houses that surround them.
All seven people already gathered were talking animatedly, and Ernesto cringed when Héctor's laughter filled the air amid the chorus of voices. His mood darkened when he saw all of the instruments leaning up against the different chairs-- Lorenzo's trumpet, Carlos' violin, one beat-up trombone, and many guitars.
If Héctor thought that this was a good way to clear the air between them, then he was sadly mistaken. What made him think that playing music with these amateurs would make Ernesto feel better? Ernesto started to turn around, but Lorenzo reached out and grabbed him by the arm, squeezing tight. Ernesto rolled his eyes and tried to wrestle out of Lorenzo's grasp, sneering when the man finally let go. He could tell it was going to be a very long day for him.
When everyone noticed them, the noise died abruptly. Carlos sent a flash of a glare before furtively avoiding Ernesto's gaze. Ramiro completely turned away. Others in the group just glared at Ernesto accusingly. For a moment no one moved, the only sounds being the fire's crackling and the sound of the lamps fighting to keep themselves on.
When someone finally spoke, it was Héctor. "Ernesto. You made it." A small smile appeared on his face, but there was nothing in it. His voice wasn't filled with optimism like it usually was. He did not use the name Ernesto had always despised. He broke eye contact quickly as he edged past Ernesto to grab his guitar, and Ernesto swore he heard his former friend inhale sharply, as if he was afraid that if he said more Ernesto would explode.
The first smart choice you've made since I arrived, Ernesto thought, rolling his eyes again as he took his seat.
When everyone else had also grabbed their instruments and taken their seats around the fire-- though the ones on either side of Ernesto remained empty-- Ernesto crossed his arms and smirked at everyone. "So how does this work?" he asked jokingly. "You guys just pick a few songs to play and perform with no one watching you? Do people ever come out to watch you or do you just play for yourselves? Or do none of you know how to play music and just use those as decorations?"
Out of the corner of his eye, Ernesto saw Héctor cringe.
Carlos huffed angrily. "You know, we might not be as talented as you, but we're still very good," he snapped. He pointed the bow of his violin in Ernesto's direction over the flames. "You're not the only one who knows how to play an instrument, Ernesto."
Ernesto shrugged. "Hey, just asking. I don't want to be here if I'm going to listen to a bunch of basura. If you guys are going to waste my time, then I'd rather just leave."
No one responded for a moment. Tension hovered in the air between each person, either out of apprehension for the situation or fear of Ernesto's rage.
Seated next to Héctor, Lorenzo snorted. "Well, I'm sorry that us trying to hang out with you is 'wasting your time'," he snarled. He squeezed the end of his trumpet tightly in his lap as if trying to hold himself back.
Ernesto whipped his head to his left, pointing at Lorenzo sharply. "You're not doing this to hang out with me. This wasn't even your idea! Don't lie to me and say that you're trying to be nice. This is a punishment and we both know it." He turned to face everyone else and raised his voice. "You all should know that!"
"Well maybe if you let yourself actually have fun here, it won't be such a punishment," Carlos interjected bitterly, his bow jutting out at Ernesto again like a sword.
Ernesto laughed sarcastically. "It's impossible to have fun here, especially around all of you. I refuse to give into your lies and pretend to enjoy myself. The only thing I look forward to in this stupid place is when I'll be able to leave. After that, I hope I never hear from any of you again." He turned and looked Héctor squarely in the eye for the last sentence, satisfied when he looked away.
"Enough," a scratchy voice intoned from the right. Ernesto turned to meet the face of the old man who'd foiled his attempted escape, the fire making his face glow eerily and enhancing his glare. He set his guitar aside and pointed at Ernesto accusingly.
"We're not the problem, Ernesto-- you are. All of us have figured out how to make the best of our situation, and we might as well have to live here forever. You are only here for a few months and you're acting like we're torturing you." He sat back and crossed his arms. "We've tried to be nice to you, but we've had it with your attitude. The least you could do is meet us halfway."
Carlos and Lorenzo nodded, the others copying. Even Ramiro and Héctor looked to be in agreement; Ramiro stared directly at him instead of away, and Héctor tried too look emotionless but Ernesto saw the coldness in his eyes.
Ernesto glowered at them, too angry to think of a comeback. What could these idiotas possibly know about his problems? They didn't know what it was like to be forced somewhere against his will, to be around people who actually mattered, to have a reputation to protect. They didn't understand how it felt to expect something and end up with a different result entirely. They didn't understand how humiliating it would be if anyone saw him down here, his image ruined completely.
None of them understood anything. And the fact that they pretended to only made Ernesto feel worse.
After another tense quiet had hung over them for what seemed like hours, Ramiro cleared his throat and said slowly, "So, what songs should we play tonight?"
"We definitely have to do some of Héctor's," Carlos suggested eagerly, leaning forward in his seat.
The others nodded in agreement. Ernesto scoffed at their admiration.
Carlos smiled widely. "Which ones should we do, then? What about 'The World Es Mi Familia'? Or 'Remember Me'?"
"No," Héctor snapped quietly, his gaze turned up to the sky too intently.
Carlos stopped grinning and sat back sheepishly. "Right. Sorry, Héctor."
Héctor waved it off but still didn't look at anyone. For a second Ernesto almost felt sorry for him, but he ignored the feeling easily. That was the one song of Héctor's that Ernesto had wanted to alter more than anything, and he wouldn't let Héctor's disapproval change that thought.
Lorenzo chimed in. "We're not playing 'Remember Me', but we could do a different one." He tapped his chin with the end of his trumpet for a bit, then turned to Héctor. "Would 'Un Poco Loco' work instead?"
Héctor and his friends nodded at this, and Ernesto resisted the urge to groan; just the thought of that song and who Héctor had written it for filled him with exasperation. The last thing Ernesto wanted to do when he was about to be subjected to Héctor's music was think of Imelda and Coco as well. That was one of the other reasons he'd changed Héctor's music into his own version: it kept him from thinking of his enemy and her stupid daughter, the amount of adoration Héctor held for both of them.
Ernesto was pulled from his thoughts when he heard Ramiro ask Héctor, "What about the song you and Ernesto wrote when you were kids?"
Ernesto startled and glowered at Ramiro for saying that, trying to hide his fear.
Unfortunately, Ramiro's comment was met with lots of praise.
Lorenzo grinned, pointing the end of his trumpet in Héctor's direction. "That's my favorite song of yours, primo."
Carlos nodded, excitement back in his expression. "Yes. You have to play that one for us!"
More cheers of encouragement broke out in the group, and Ernesto watched in horror. How did they all know about that song, the first one he and Héctor had ever composed together? It was the one song of Héctor's that Ernesto had never played because just thinking about it embarassed him. The thought of hearing it performed here, in front of these people, was too much to take.
Héctor folded his hands in his lap, leaning back and glancing Ernesto's way nervously. "I... I don't think that's a good idea."
One of the younger men in the group gave a groan of protest. "Why not?! You've never turned down a song request before."
Héctor shook his head and sighed. "I just don't want to."
The man gestured to Ernesto accusingly, his baggy sleeves almost catching fire with his quick movements. "Why? Because he's here?"
Héctor narrowed his eyes. "No. It's just not the time right now, that's all. Maybe another day."
More objections surfaced. Many people threw up their hands in resignation, and some turned to glare at Ernesto as if he were responsible for Héctor's hesitance.
Which he probably was.
The old man sitting to the right of Ernesto huffed, sounding sympathetic for the first time since Ernesto had met him. He stared right at Héctor as he spoke, evenly but not without the slightest hint of understanding. "Just because Ernesto's staying with us does not mean you have to change things. We all want to hear it, and if he doesn't, that's his loss. You were the same way when you were alive and I won't tolerate seeing it here. Play the song, Héctor. I'm not requesting-- I'm telling you."
"Fine." Héctor rolled his eyes, grabbing his guitar from its position up against his chair.
Ernesto glowered at Héctor as he started to strum the opening lines. Ernesto had already been humiliated once when he first got here, but this was way worse. He'd banned his friend from playing this since Héctor was nine and Ernesto was thirteen, and the fact it was about to be exposed now-- and that Héctor had played it multiple times before-- chilled him. He had to put a stop to it, or at least make it more bearable.
Then Héctor started to sing, his voice the only sound in the area. Even the two dim lamps went out as if to draw more attention to him.
Got some time to share.
The sun is everywhere.
Take my hand, let's do it together.
Applause started around the fire, and Ernesto crossed his arms, looking away in embarassment.
Shake it up and dance.
Take a- take a chance.
It's gonna last, forever and ever.
The lyrics were just as childish as Ernesto remembered. He needed to stop this.
We gonna have some fun.
We gonna get it done.
Oh, oh, oh oh oh oh yeah.
A few cheers were thrown out, and Ernesto had to resist the urge to give an annoyed sigh.
Altogether now, we gonna show you how.
We do it right.
"Stop."
The sounds of strumming and noises of approval died at the sound of Ernesto's command. Everyone turned to stare at him, and most stares turned accusatory within seconds. Even Ramiro's expression turned dark when him and Ernesto looked at each other.
Héctor frowned, his hands frozen over the gutar strings. "Do you need something, Ernesto?"
"Sí, Ernesto, what is it?" Lorenzo asked with narrowed eyes, a threat in his words.
Ernesto stared at everyone, running things over in his mind. No one would listen to him if he asked for a different song choice, but he couldn't let this go on any longer. If Héctor was going to betray him and sing their most private song out in the open, he had to find a way to make it more bearable.
When the idea came to him, he turned to stare at Héctor, his expression even. "Let me sing the chorus with you," he said smoothly.
Surprise crossed Héctor's face, as well as a couple of others. The flames of the fire they were sitting around showed in everyone's eyes as they widened, making their stunned expressions almost comical.
When Héctor recovered, his brow furrowed apprehensively. "Why would you want to do that?"
Ernesto shrugged. "Well, if you're going to embarass me, at least let me enjoy it. Also, we both know I sing it better than you."
"Not true," Ramiro interjected.
Ernesto shrugged, waving his hand dismissively. "Whatever. The point is, I want to do the next part with you. Is that a problem?"
Héctor was still frowning. "No..."
Ernesto leaned back in his seat and put his hands behind his head, turning to face forward and closing his eyes. "Good."
He could feel Héctor and everyone else staring at him, but soon the sensation went away as Héctor resumed strumming his guitar. Ernesto kept his eyes shut as he sang, his voice now the only sound in the group.
Everyday-ay, all we wanna have is fun, fun, fun.
Surprised gasps and murmers invaded the music. Ernesto even heard Lorenzo and one of the other men give a small hum of approval.
Fun anyway-ay, so just come and join us one by one.
Ernesto opened one eye and startled when he caught everyone staring at him in either amazement or genuine affection. Even the old man was fighting to hide his grin. These realizations caused him to pause his singing and straighten in his seat, bringing his hands to his lap self-consiously.
Héctor's guitar playing stopped abruptly and he stared at Ernesto, looking confused. "Should we keep going?"
Ernesto hesitated briefly, uneasy with the positive reaction this song was causing, with how much he both really wanted to stop and keep going all at once.
He nodded once, a small grin forming on his face. "I think we should. And you should sing it, too."
Everyone cheered and Héctor's face lit up as he started to strum the next part.
So what'cha know-oh?
Go-oh.
Ernesto and Héctor's voices mixed together in disturbingly perfect harmony, just as they always had since their first concert. Ernesto caught Héctor's gaze for a moment and shared a small smile as they kept singing.
Oh-oh, we can't let this moment pass.
Héctor's friends kept cheering their approval, clapping along and humming as he and Ernesto continued their song. Ernesto watched as Héctor closed his eyes with a wide grin on his face as he straightened in his seat-- not with nervousness or tension, but with more joy than Ernesto had seen in anyone in this place so far. He slowed down his strumming and finished with a flourish as he and Ernesto sang the last line.
Oh-oh, let's just make this party last.
Cheers and applause rang out across the whole group, some of Héctor's amigos slapping him on the back affectionately. Ernesto found himself applauding as well, shocked at his own reaction.
Only when he stopped and saw everyone looking at him did he realize that he was still smiling, still clapping, and sitting back in his chair like he was comfortable being here. When he saw Héctor smiling eagerly, all the excitement from earlier disappeared.
"Do you want to do another one?" Héctor asked hopefully.
Ernesto stiffened and crossed his arms over his chest, suddenly unsettled.
"Ernesto?"
He bolted out of his seat, ignoring the sharp clatter it made as it hit the ground. The fire kept crackling, the sound growing more infuriating with each passing second. He glared at all of the faces staring back at him in concern, the anger and humiliation from earlier rushing back.
He turned and locked his gaze on Héctor, scowling at the beat-up guitar in his hands, how pathetic he and instrument looked.
"That was very... fun," he started, choking on the last word and trying not to think of what he'd done earlier, "but I think I've had enough for one day." He started to back away and turned on his heal abruptly. "I'll see you guys later."
This time no one fought him as he ran away.
A/N: I know I've mentioned this on two other fanfics, but to those of you who hadn't read them, I wanted to write this last part.
There's a show that my little brother and I used to watch, back when it was on Netflix, called Power Rangers Super Samurai, and in the 7th episode of the first season of that show, there's a part where the characters sing this song.
Because I wanted to pick a fun part of a song to used in this chapter but have no talent in or hope of writing my own (and because I wanted to pick on Ernesto a little and make him have a not-so-dark but still-embarassing secret from his past), I figured that the first part of that song would be perfect to use.
I just thought I'd do a disclaimer so people would know where I got this from. Even though I've done it twice before, it's nice to be on the safe side.