Ernesto was so accustomed to the constant noise now that these voices shouldn't have stood out to him. He heard yelling and bickering at least once every day since he'd been here-- harmless arguments over cheating during a game of cards, people laughing at a joke that went too far, and even the playful banter that Héctor and his amigos tossed at each other turned rather ugly sometimes. Seven times out of ten, there was a well-meaning disgreement that Ernesto overheard from a group of people at least once every few weeks, and while it wasn't ideal, he stopped caring a long time ago.

But this debate stood out because there wasn't anything amicable about it. There was no stifled kindness beneath the insults, no sign of either side apologizing any time soon. Lorenzo was yelling so loud that Ernesto winced when he heard it, and when Héctor's voice joined in, defensive and a little afraid, Ernesto was unable to ignore it like he could otherwise.

He'd slept better than usual last night, no nightmares of his death tormenting him for the first time since he'd died. And even more surprising, the second he'd hoiseted himself out of bed, he headed for Héctor's house.

Ernesto didn't know why he wanted to be by his friend again-- maybe he was going crazy (which was possible considering what he'd been through), maybe he had a bit more energy in him because of his peaceful night, or maybe because he knew he was ever closer to the day he could leave and pretending to enjoy himself could make the day go faster-- but whatever the reason, he ignored the daily commotion and was about to knock on the wall to Héctor's house when the fight suddenly drew him out of his stupor.

Ernesto went still, listening for where the sound was coming from. Behind him, he only heard the sounds of guitars and violins playing an awful song from when he was alive. Off to the side, Ramiro and his group were having an impassioned discussion about something that abruptly ended when they heard the loud sounds. Ernesto pressed his non-existant ear to the wall, and the voices got louder, mixed with the sound of a fist striking wood.

Ernesto threw Héctor's curtain aside and stepped through the doorway. He sidestepped the discarded pieces of paper on the floor and the collection of soda and tequila bottles stacked up neatly next to the hammock that overlooked the water. He didn't stop to consider that this was the first time he'd even been in Héctor's place and he maybe shouldn't be intruding or eavesdropping on the argument that got louder with every step he took. He stepped closer to the back wall slowly and peered around the wall to watch, and he had to stop himself from flinching as Lorenzo punched the wall again.

"You can't do that!" he shouted, turning around and jabbing his finger on Héctor's chest. "We've been doing this ever since you got here, and now you're trying to invite someone else?"

"It's not a bad idea." Héctor's voice shook, and Ernesto knew it was more from guilt than fear. He had his hands behind his back and he leaned against a nearby table as if trying to distance himself as much as possible. "I was just wondering if Ernesto could come with us, that's all."

Ernesto couldn't see Lorenzo's face, but he heard the curse the man let out in response. "I can't believe this," he growled. "Ever since Ernesto got here, you've barely been like yourself. We always go to the upper levels to try to play music and have a few drinks as a way to celebrate becoming friends. By ourselves. That's been our tradition for twenty-one years, and now you want that idiota to come with us?"

Ernesto clenched a fist at his side.

Héctor crossed his arms now, standing up straight. "That has nothing to do with it, primo. You know we're not allowed up there."

"That's never stopped us before," Lorenzo shot back. "Don't try to excuse this. We both know that family comes before anything else, especially amigos terribles like yours. Just because he's here doesn't mean everything has to change. I won't let you do this, Héctor. Stop making everything about him."

Héctor rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe I want Ernesto to come with us because we'll be treated better if he does? If people think Ernesto's with us, we'll be able to enjoy our time the right way."

Ernesto fought to stop the wave of anger that traveled through him at that statement. Even if that was the plan, Ernesto would never help Héctor that way, especially not if another resident of this place was involved. He hadn't accepted his situation that much and he was done helping his best friend with anything.

Lorenzo's tone dripped with suspicion. "So suddenly you're willing to use someone to have a good time?" He, too, threw his hands up, groaning. "That's it. I've had enough, Héctor. I can't deal with you right now."

"Me either," Héctor snapped as Lorenzo started to turn to storm off.

Ernesto felt a jolt of panic go through him, and he started to dash away when he heard Héctor's voice call: "And you don't have a right to judge me, Lorenzo. You think I have terrible taste in friends? You did the same thing with your sister when you were alive."

Ernesto stiffened, and it seemed like the air went with him. From Lorenzo there was no response, and even Ernesto knew that was a bad sign.

After a few seconds, a sharp intake of breath was heard, and then Lorenzo's voice was low and threatening. "Don't you dare talk about that."

Ernesto was frozen in place, right in the doorway, and he risked a glance over his shoulder to see Lorenzo's battle stance and Héctor's cold eyes.

Héctor nodded defiantly, and then continued. "You told me that you were as close to your sister as I was to Ernesto. Even when she hated you, you always made her the center of attention and gave her everything she wanted. If you can do that, then I can treat my friends and family the same way. You always say that I pick the wrong people to be around, but you're just like me, and we both know that."

Before Ernesto could grasp what he was watching, Lorenzo reached out and slapped Héctor across the face. The sound echoed through the air like a crack of thunder, and Héctor crashed backwards into the table behind him, splintering its wood and laying there stunned.

Ernesto drew in a trembling breath, realizing that his entire body was shaking along with it. Lorenzo stomped past him and down the steps with looking back or registering that Ernesto was there. But minutes later, Ernesto went still as a voice warily called from behind him and he looked to see Héctor stuggling to stand as the two made eye contact.

"How much of that did you hear?"

Lorenzo was sitting alone in the chair that sat outside his house. His hands were behind his back and his head was tilted up to the sky, but Ernesto could tell that the fight with Héctor was still in his mind; his usual frown of distaste had deepened to a glare, and he kept talking to himself too quiet for actual words to be heard.

Ernesto thought he was being quiet enough that he could take back his plan and walk by unnoticed, but then Lorenzo shifted in his seat, and Ernesto knew that it was too late.

"Unless you're here to apologize to me, Héctor, I don't want to hear it!" Lorenzo opened his eyes a second later, and a look of surprise briefly flashed acrossed his face before being replaced by annoyance. "Oh, it's you. Go away. I have nothing to say to you, either."

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them as they stared at each other. Ernesto tried to think of what to say in the quiet, cursing himself for not having a better plan.

Lorenzo sighed and sat up straight, stirring the strands of hair that had fallen over his eyes. "You ruin everything, you know that?" he snapped.

Ernesto shrugged. "Pretty sure that was your fault, not mine."

Lorenzo's eyes widened, his hands tightening their grips where he'd placed them on the armrests of his chair. "You heard us?"

"It was impossible not to."

"Ay." Lorenzo rolled his eyes. "Great. I have a fight with my best friend and now you're interrogating me. It's none of your business."

Ernesto stepped closer, smirking. "I was going to talk to Héctor, you got there first, I heard you shouting at him, and now my morning's been interrupted. So sí, it is my business."

Lorenzo glowered at him. "Well, what do you want from me?"

Ernesto delievered his next words calmly, trying to hide the feelings of spite and confusion that were at the forefront of his mind. "I want you to apologize to Héctor."

Lorenzo didn't respond for a moment, only stared Ernesto down with a blank expression and leaned back in his chair again. "Why do you care? It's not like you consider him your amigo anymore."

Ernesto nodded and crossed his arms. "I don't, but you do. And no one has that big of a fight with someone without apologizing after." He hadn't planned on apologizing for any of his actions toward Héctor anytime soon, but that was beside the point right now.

Lorenzo's mouth tightened into a thin line as the sounds of music stared to fill the previously quiet air. "Well, I don't have anything to say to him. This is his fault, not mine. He always picks the wrong people to focus on-- you, or his wife, or his daughter--"

Ernesto shuddered and nodded in agreement. "You have no idea."

Lorenzo held up his hand and gave Ernesto a severe look. "--but when it comes to people who actually care about him, who haven't tried to erase his existence from the minds of others, he doesn't want to hear it!"

Ernesto sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Mira, I grew up with him. I know how annoying Héctor's affection can be." He paused as his mind went back: Héctor following him everywhere when they were kids; Héctor going behind Ernesto's back to see Imelda and give presents to her; Héctor brining Coco to all of their rehersals or more often skipping them altogether. Besides being able to steal Héctor's music, killing him had one more benefit-- Ernesto no longer had to suffer through his friend's devotion or watch him give it to the worst people in their lives.

Ernesto continued, taking in a deep breath. "But I also know one more thing: you can't do anything about it." He grinned slightly. "And it's probably the only genuine respect you'll ever get."

Lorenzo rolled his eyes and leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand. From this angle, his eyes almost glowed because of the lights in front of him, enhancing his usual irritation but also something else. The resignation that let Ernesto know he was winning.

"He still has to apologize for bringing up my sister," he muttered. "He knows that that is definitely not allowed."

Ernesto shrugged. "That's between the two of you; I don't want to know." He turned and started to walk off. "Just go talk to him, okay?"

As he got farther away, Lorenzo called out, "Hey, Ernesto?"

Ernesto stopped and turned. Lorenzo was standing up now, his hands clenched into small fists and his posture tense. But when Ernesto looked closer, he saw that there was a small, begrudging smile on the man's face. "Gracias for helping. I guess you're not so bad."

Ernesto didn't respond as he walked away. But he noticed the way he stood straighter and couldn't stop the grin and the laugh that he let out, the second feeling of genuine happiness he'd felt since arrival.