#also there's one of my vocab words in this reply hehehe can you guess which one it is?

[someotherdog]

emmylou was ecstatic that miguel seemed to like her gift. just finding him reading it, even if he ended up hating it, was enough to satisfy. she was beaming like she was on stage, guitar in hand and a spotlight on her face, blinding her eyes. with the state of the world, maybe she should be glad there was still something to be happy about. her mother always chided her, telling her daughter not to get her self-esteem from the approval of men, only to turn around and do the exact same thing she warned her daughter against. (fat lot of good it did for either of them.) hopefully, this was a situation where that would be okay, being so happy that he was reading the book that she gifted him. settling next to him, she leaned against the bannister and folded her arms comfortably around her waist.

“a few times before. cary elwes was such a heartthrob to little me—he’s in the movie—so that helped it to stay in mind. all the other girls were into jtt or garth brooks but i was all about the dread pirate roberts!” like most of their conversations, emmylou started off on one topic and then moved onto another without a beat. it was her conversation partner’s responsibility to keep up with her. if they got lost, that was their own fault. in emmy’s opinion, anyway. her volubility was a defined, recognized trait that sometimes got her into trouble, but mostly earned everyone’s ire. she had been a chatterbox all her life and she had grown used to people thinking she was annoying. she was used to people telling her to shut up and then continue on talking anyway, ignoring them. that’s what she liked about miguel—he never made her feel stupid or unwanted. it was kind of like talking to a wall, even if it was impolite to think that. a wall that let her say whatever she wanted and responded if he felt like it, but usually just listened.

a customer once told her about a stinking flower that bloomed once a year for a few days at a time. that it was so special because it gave off a decayed stench and stuck around for a brief amount of time, which made it incredibly rare and a beautiful thing to see, despite the smell. the customer told emmylou about it and she thought it was the opposite. how horrible it would be to only be known for your odor and how short you lived. sighing, emmylou looked down the staircase, unsure why she thought of that customer in that moment, but she thought maybe it had to do with miguel. how he only showed a passion for life in rare glimpses. how he only seemed to light up when bill was around. despite their numerous conversations, she still knew so little about him, and that made her sort of sad. that was why she stuck around, even after he subtly rejected her romantic advances. she wanted to see him bloom.

“well, i don’t want to keep you from readin’, i just wanted to check on ya.” emmy tore her gaze away from the lower level, turning her attention back to miguel. then an idea suddenly popped into her head. “actually, i wanted to see if you were willing to plan somethin’ with me. maybe… i don’t know, a talent show? for the casino? just somethin’ to get our spirits up or, i don’t know, promote unity…” there was a little selfish need to show off her own singing, but maybe it would help lighten the mood. ever since becks let the californians in months ago, tensions were still steadily rising. she feared something bad might happen. “what do you think?”

the problem with miguel was that he didn't know anything. least of all about himself. it was a problem that was only exacerbated by the apocalypse. what he didnt know or did know about who he was before was almost entirely useless now. he dated women before, but usually it ended when he wasn't emotionally available enough to them or he got tired of not being able to figure them out.

he couldn't concentrate on shit as a kid. didn't even know how he'd get into college if he'd made up his mind that was even something he'd wanted to do. he didn't know how to form new bonds outside of his family (now dead) and los lobos (now mostly dead). so he certainly didn't know how he felt about someone like emmylou, who freaked him out when he first met her, if he was honest. and maybe freaked him out more now, but in a different way. in a sort of insidious way where he didn't understand when or how she'd become so important to him and, even more confusing, what that meant.

and people talked. they asked shit. not to him, but he was sure to one another. before some of the women from california talked to him, but they seemed to stop once he and emmylou started hanging around. maybe that was another thing he ought to thank her for. not that there was anything wrong with any of them, but he just didn't want anymore fucking company. repeated conversations. reminiscing. it didn't serve any purpose and, frankly, it just bummed him out.

for someone who seemed so stoic and to himself, miguel was not uncomfortable with touch. probably a holdover from his family. he didn't offer hugs to people or throw his arms around them like bill might, but he didn't bristle at the offer of a hug. when emmy hugged him, he gave her a one-arm-squeeze that was not entirely awkward and might have come off as comforting, his other hand occupied with the paperback.

"yeah, i don't--uh, read that often." the last book he could remember was the outsiders. or maybe it was lord of the flies. some high school book about boys and violence. maybe it was both books, but he really didn't remember reading either. he turned the book over, paperback wrapped around the finger he was using for a bookmark. "nah, i mean there's stuff i probably missed." but that was okay. he turned the book around and tapped the 'now a major motion picture' sticker. "i feel like i knew this was a movie, but i don't really remember. you seen it?" / @someotherdog