Ramiro really didn't understand why Ernesto had to stay in town with them. There were plenty of hotels and and rental houses available in the higher city, and Ernesto had so much money he could buy at least half of them. So why come down here and ruin people's sanity when he could do it just as well somewhere else? Why waste time getting a house here when he could stay where he was actually wanted? What was the point of enduring tense conversations when he had women and fans of all ages up there who wouldn't hesitate to welcome him with open arms?
In all honesty, the whole thing was just a waste of time. And Ramiro knew he wasn't the only one who felt this way. Without exaggerating, Ramiro could safely say that almost everyone in Los Olvidados also had his train of thought when it came to this situation.
He knew he wasn't losing his mind when he saw the uneasiness in everyone's eyes the first day Ernesto arrived here, the way Lorenzo looked on with loathing whenever he and Ernesto crossed paths. He knew what he saw when Ernesto walked places with Héctor and people either tensed or quickly looked away. And when Héctor found out Ernesto was trying to run away, Ramiro swore he felt joy in the air for the briefest minute, then the tension returned when Héctor sent Chicharrón to bring Ernesto back. No one was happy about much after that.
Ramiro saw and heard all of it. He knew that aside from Héctor, people were not at all keen on Ernesto's plan to stay here. And even Ernesto himself seemed the most opposed to it; he shouted and accused people daily, and even went far enough to reach the level of verbal threats. On the day he called them all out for their close and easy bond with one another, it seemed like the only thing that prevented Ernesto from getting physical was the fact that he was outnumbered. Otherwise, Ramiro knew that Ernesto would not have hesitated to tackle them all down.
Ramiro so badly wanted to kick Ernesto out, but he couldn't seem to find the strength to do it. Every time he was about to yell at Ernesto, shove him out, maybe kick him for real... he couldn't do it. It seemed like there was always something stopping him, a number of reasons he couldn't stand up to him and everyone else's biggest problem.
Part of it was because Ramiro had... a history with Ernesto, to put it mildly. Ramiro used to work for Ernesto as the manager for his performances, so he and Ernesto, predictably, saw a lot of each other.
They weren't friends by any means. Ernesto believed that anyone with a lower position than him wasn't worth being nice to. When the press were around with their cameras, of course, Ernesto was level and nice to every one of his abundant number of servants and staff members. But when they weren't, Ernesto treated them horribly.
He shouted at the stagehands over the smallest details. He complained constantly. And since Ramiro was technically in charge of him, he got the most intense level of Ernesto's rage. Since Ramiro had seen that nothing about Ernesto had changed in any way, he knew that it would end with the exact same results or worse, and that was half of the reason Ramiro kept his opinions at bay.
The other part of the reason Ramiro endured this without complaint had little to do with Ernesto and everything to do with Héctor. Ramiro was actually pretty afraid of him, and he had been ever since they met.
Every time the two of them crossed paths, Ramiro inwardly cowered. Whenever Héctor grinned or laughed at someone's joke, Ramiro was too startled to find the same humor. When Héctor played his guitar, either alone or with others, Ramiro admired his talent but could never stick around to listen. And if he saw that Héctor was heading in one direction, Ramiro almost always took a different route.
The irony wasn't lost on Ramiro at all: he'd gone through countless arguments and fights with Ernesto (both verbal and physical) and those didn't do anything but only slightly unnerve him. But Héctor never used violence or lost his temper with anyone, and still Ramiro found it harder to be with him than anyone else.
If there was one person he didn't want to argue with, it was Héctor. So for the time being, if it would keep Héctor happy, Ramiro would allow Ernesto to stay without showing disdain.
Even if he tried, Ramiro knew he would lose that fight. When met with Héctor's loyalty for his family and friends, you could never win an argument with him-- even if the people he was loyal to didn't deserve it in the least.
Three weeks after Ernesto tried to run away, Ramiro was relaxing in his house, sitting on the uncomfortable couch he kept in there and staring out the window that faced it. He could hear the noise of racous laughing and music from outside, as well as startled shouts when glass shattered somewhere nearby. The lights outside flickered, casting long shadows on his walls and making his other chairs and matress look bigger than they actually were.
He wasn't expecting visitors-- he never got any unless he personally invited them, and they certainly wouldn't bother him at this time of night-- so he was alarmed when he heard someone knocking on his door (he was one of the only residents who actually had one).
Three strikes, then silence.
Ramiro slowly stood and walked over to let the person in. When he swung his door open, he found that Héctor, dressed in dark blue pajamas with rips in the legs and a tired expression on his face, was staring back at him.
Trying to hide the spark of fear that shot through him, Ramiro forced a grin onto his face.
"Do you need something?" he asked, stepping to the side to let Héctor in. "It's a little late to be awake, you know."
"I know." Héctor sighed as he sat down on Ramiro's couch slowly, his gaze trained on the outside window. The lights of the upper city glowed brightly, even at night. Ramiro noticed how they were reflected in Héctor's eyes, how when the numerous sky trams and trolleys flew by, they were so far away they looked like small black squares.
Ramiro looked at the ground when Héctor turned to face him, slowly walking over and trying to stop himself from shaking. He made his way to the other side of the couch and sat down on the farthest side, leaning back with his hands folded in his lap as he finally worked up the courage to stare at Héctor.
"Do you need something?" Ramiro asked as he tried hard not to wince at the fact that one of his greatest fears was sitting right next to him.
It wasn't uncommon for Héctor to have sleepless nights like this. It didn't happen every night, but it happened enough that everyone in town was used to it. Though he never outright told people about why things like this happened, others had been through his situation enough times to know that it was most likely because he missed his family so much that had nightmares from thinking about them.
While Héctor occasionally confided in his friends about things like this, he never did it this late and Ramiro kept his distance from Héctor so much that the two of them rarely spoke anyways. For Héctor to break these habits, there must be something seriously wrong.
And given the current situation, Ramiro wasn't surprised at all.
It was a few moments before Héctor spoke, looking out the window again. "I'm worried about Superhero," he said abruptly, the light from outside sparkling in his eyes as he spoke.
Ramiro's hands tightened to fists in his lap without his immidiate notice. The mere thought of the person that name belonged to made him sick, and thinking about why Héctor would be worried about him only increased the feeling.
"Why?" he asked. A possibility edged its way into his mind, and he widened his eyes. "Did he do something to you?" Even though Ramiro couldn't see any evidence of injuries other than the ones Héctor had gotten before Ernesto came here, there was still a chance, and Ramiro would definitely track Ernesto down if he even tried to hurt Héctor. Or anyone else for that matter.
Héctor shook his head. "No." He laughed softly, leaning forward where he sat, a small grin on his face. "And even if he tried to, I'd be ready for him."
Ramiro chuckled, but it fell flat, and he could feel how pathetic his attempt at joy was. He cleared his throat and tilted his head, still staring in Héctor's direction. "Well, then, what's the matter?"
Héctor shrugged, giving a worn-out sigh as he leaned back, folding his hands and resting them behind his head. His smile faded as quickly as it appeared. "I just don't like seeing him like this. I can't stand it when he's this upset."
Ramiro resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Upset was one way to put it. He could think of other words to describe Ernesto's mood (vicious, spoiled, crazy), but there was no way he was going to say them with Héctor sitting right next to him.
"Have you tried talking to him?" Ramiro asked instead, turning away just in case Héctor detected the thoughts in his head. The chatter and laughing of the people outside filled the silence between them as he waited for Héctor to answer.
"Not since he tried to run away," Héctor answered. Though Ramiro didn't turn around to look, he could hear Héctor's bones creaking as he shifted his position. He sighed again. "I knew he was mad, but I never thought he'd tried to do that."
Why didn't you let him? Ramiro wanted to ask. That would've been better for all of them. If he wanted to leave, why was Héctor making him stay? Ramiro tensed, trying really hard not to look back in Héctor's direction or open his mouth and let his exasperation get the best of him.
"You used to work for him, right?" Héctor asked suddenly. When Ramiro finally turned towards him, he found that Héctor had his whole body turned in Ramiro's direction, his knees bent and pulled up to his chest with a loose grip as he leaned against the couch's armrest. His head was tilted toward the window, the lights making his unruly hair a mix of purple and blue light.
Ramiro stiffened further, nodding. He'd told Héctor about that once but had been very scant on the details.
"Did he treat you like this back then?" Héctor asked, his eyes narrowed like this was some kind of test. This was another way Héctor frightened Ramiro: If you wanted to say something bad about his friends, or worse, his family, you had to think carefully. Otherwise it wouldn't end nicely.
Ramiro inhaled sharply, then let it out. "Sí. All the time." His voice became tight and bitter. "He was... not the best person to work for. He believed everyone was beneath him. He always argued with everything I said, and I was never allowed to have the upper hand."
To his surprise, Héctor smiled and nodded, not like he was pleased about Ramiro's pain, but like he already predicted this response. Like he, too, had had bad experiences with Ernesto when he was alive. Like Ernesto had shouted and accused him as well, always defended himself and did whatever it took to come out on top in a fight.
"I can imagine that," Héctor said, almost wistfully. "Superhero has always been that way. He always had to give orders and be the center of attention. If they tried to fight with him, they'd never win."
Ramiro shuddered before realizing he did it. "So he acted that way around you, too?" he asked. Hearing Héctor's outright admission to his thoughts chilled him.
Héctor nodded again, shrugging. "It wasn't that bad," he said offhandedly, but way he seemed to curl up further and avert his gaze made Ramiro think otherwise. It made him wonder what was so great about Ernesto that Héctor defended him from everyone and refused to let him suffer in any way.
Given the way Ernesto had treated him all these years, Héctor should be confronting him. But Ramiro could tell that he was never going to see that happen.
After a long silence stretched between the two of them for what felt like an eternity, Héctor uncurled himself from his position on the couch and stood up quickly, as if he was suddenly in a hurry to leave. Ramiro didn't move from his position as he watched Héctor start towards the door. The lights from the window outlined his body and highlighted his gaze, which was still downcast and distracted even though Ramiro could see that he was trying to hide it.
Héctor swung open the door, but before he left, he locked eyes with Ramiro and smiled awkwardly. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow then," he said, shrugging again before he walked out.
Ramiro looked down, finally relaxing once he heard the door close. With him and Héctor's talk still at the forefront of his mind, Ramiro laid back on his couch, too exhausted to go over to his bed behind it, and lapsed into a fitful sleep, struggling more than usual to get comfortable with the memories in his head refusing to leave him for the rest of the night.