#héctors guitar

[juliedrawz]

I alway crack up about my Mom reacting to remember me. Now, she cannot handle Héctors vers. She always cries and 'her words' it is torture!

She can only listen to Ernestos vers. And I always have to play it after I do Héctors vers.

True thing! Really! Whenever I play it, I bet you 3 seconds into it you'll hear "NO! Please no!" And then I play Nesto and she's all good again.

I love both vers. They are both great. Happy and sweet melancholic.

[dragoneyes618]

Headcanon that Coco didn't actually know her father's name.

She was three or four when he left. As far as she was concerned, his name was Papá.

She remembered her mother singing and dancing with him, but she had no memories of Imelda actually calling Héctor by name.

And afterwards, Imelda got rid of anything that belonged to him, anything that might bear his name. She never mentioned his name again. Oscar and Felipe didn't either.

Coco had the picture, so she knew what he looked like, but not his name. Even the letters - they were all addressed to Coco, and signed "Papá." Yes, there were many parts that were for Imelda - Imelda was the one who read them to Coco, since she presumably couldn't read much more than her name - but they were for Coco, which was why she had them when Imelda began her purge.

Even if Coco had wanted to try to find out more about her father after her mother died, she couldn't. She wouldn't get very far without a name.

She spent the rest of her life clinging to a fading memory of a kind man with dark eyes and a guitar. She would take out his picture and look at it. She was glad she only had daughters, because if she'd had a son she would have been conflicted about whether to want to give her father's name as a middle name, and she didn't know it.

Miguel finally discovered his great-great-grandfather's name - well, in a believable way that he could tell everyone else, anyway - after going to the town hall and digging through old records for hours and finally discovering a marriage license for Héctor and Imelda Rivera.

Depending on when Coco died, though, she may not have been alive to see this.

Depending on whether Miguel told his great-grandmother about his adventure in the Land of the Dead, she may or may not have died still not knowing her father's name. Not until a weeping young man embraces her in the Department of Family Reunions, and, crying herself, she melts into his embrace, hugging him back, and she hears her mother's voice saying softly, "Ay, Héctor, Coco."

[stitcherofchaos]

Coco: Héctor Rivera - Life vs Death

I noticed this about Héctor is that he is quite exuberant through most of the film, he seemed like a loud character, but I noticed that during his flashbacks of his death that he was more quiet. The only words he said to Ernesto were “I’m going home Ernesto, hate me if you want but my mind is made up” (not to mention he was firm, but not yelling, and had this expression that spoke louder than the words he’s said) it’s a short and simple sentence. While Ernesto proposed a toast, Héctor did not say anything. He simply accepted the toast with a smile and drank. Héctor doesn’t even tell Ernesto anything when he’s dying, in pain. Doesn’t ask him for help or any questions, he’s even silent as he’s dying.

Maybe I’m overthinking it but I noticed how much Héctor was quietly thinking while shutting his songbook, accepting his ‘friend’s’ toast. When he’s dying, it’s like his thoughts are in hyperdrive at that moment and yet, he doesn’t say anything.

During the end, the one year epilogue occurs and there is a lack of this ‘loudness’ which we saw during the majority of the film. He gets checked at the gate, sighs, and goes to meet his family, only saying his daughter’s name, and then he doesn’t speak for the rest of it. Heck, he’s not even singing with Miguel, he’s playing the guitar and smiling.

This is either a timing factor for the film (because speaking is a waste of time) or if this is done intentionally to show that, in life Héctor was a quieter person. In death, he’s suffering, isolated, and rejected by his family, due to that, he’s loud, erratic, and unhealthy almost as if he’s behaving ‘louder’ in order to avoid his internal pain. Then when he’s with his family in the epilogue, he’s quieter again and less erratic. Despite everything happening, the Rivera’s helped Héctor heal. Even though I have personal opinions about Iméctor, it was a sweet ending seeing the healing, forgiveness, and love in the end.

It’s just makes me think about Héctor’s personality and how different it was in life compared to what we see through the majority of the film in the LOTD. He has his basic personality: silly, joyful, inventive, compassionate. It just find it weird that I’ve only seen one other post that noticed his living self’s quietness/calmness but didn’t dive deeper into it.

(Said personal opinion was: I didn’t think it was healthy or realistic for Pixar to shoe-horn a last minute romance when there was- albeit justified- 97 years of anger and resentment due to a misunderstanding on one end. That’s not even mentioning the rest of the Rivera’s. It always rubbed me the wrong way.)

Oh and I would love to hear other people’s opinions and/or disagreements 😊 I want to hear different perspectives, I tend to lack imagination when it comes to perspective.

[gamerbearmira]

Coco...and Encanto...hmmmmm

Bro idek but y'all should've expected this 😛 I love both movies sm tbh, my faces next to Princess and the Frog and the Book of Life.

The Book of Life...hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Tel teg ti

-----

Héctor had finally finished the last touches of paint on Miguel. He twisted his nose a bit, and Danté sniffed at the tin that Héctor had thrown aside, licking his nose before hacking and gagging. Mirabel giggled at the sight.

"Done! Now you both look like skeletons; well, as close as you can be," he shrugged, rolling his eyes.

"And you're sure no one will notice us?" Mirabel asked, putting on the poncho Héctor handed her. Thankfully Miguel was already wearing a jacket, so it was ok.

"Eh, it should. You'd be surprised how many folks don't really look close," Héctor shrugged. Miguel and Mirabel exchanged a look before Héctor shrugged, digging around in his ribcage and handing Miguel a photo. "Anyway, here's my photo!"

Miguel stared at the photo for a moment, Mirabel peeking over his shoulder. "This is you?"

"¿Muy guapo, eh?" Hector said and Miguel rolled his eyes and shoved the photo in his coat pocket while Mirabel snorted.

"So, if he takes your photo and puts it on his offrenda, you'll be able to cross over?" Mirabel asked, and both she and Miguel followed after Héctor who nodded.

"¡Sí! Once we find his great great grandpa," Héctor said and Miguel spoke up.

"And we have to find Mirabel's abuelo Pedro too!" He perked up and Héctor nodded, pointing a finger.

"That too. But your abuelo is pretty popular in both the Colombia and México districts," Héctor said. "With his sacrafice and all that; he's like a whole hero here. So if we get to that party, we'll probably be able to find both of them! Ernesto was all about inviting other famous folks, even in death."

Mirabel smiled excitedly and Miguel beamed as well. Héctor looked at the two who excitedly spoke about getting home. He couldn't help but think of his own little one, Coco. Though, she probably wasn't so little now.

"Well, come on! We got a contest to win!" Héctor called back after walking ahead of them. Mirabel grabbed Miguel's hand, rushing after Héctor with Miguel stumbling behind him.

-----

Guys they're literally the best adventure group like the best ever I'm not been joking dawg 🙏🙏

Héctor has to watch two kids now 👩‍🦲 also funny thing, I think how Pedro and Mirabel both have butterflies in their eyes, I think I'll make it so Héctor and Miguel had guitars in their eyes <333

BECAUSE I CAAANNNNN

Can you tell I cant draw Héctor to safe my life and put so little effort its not even funny

What's ironic is I have the concept art book for Coco 🌚

[reareaotaku]

Miguel Rivera from Coco?

This request was asked years ago- I'm so sorry. Aged up +

👩🏼‍🎨You're an artist and love to draw all the people around you. You notice all the little things wouldn't notice, because of your attention to detail. That's how you noticed a boy.

👩🏼‍🎨 You saw him going into Ernesto's mausoleum. You look around to see if anyone else noticed, but it seemed everyone was to busy with their music. So, you decide to follow him. You catch him red handed with the guitar-

👩🏼‍🎨 You both fight for it, before police show up and you drop the guitar holding the guitar off. You had failed to notice the pedals that had flown around you, but you did notice how the police didn't notice you or the boy.

👩🏼‍🎨💀 He runs away and you quickly follow him, angrily yelling at him to stop.

👩🏼‍🎨💀 You both end up falling into a grave and his relatives see him??? Thankfully they were nice to you, even though they didn't notice you. You learned his name was Miguel, thanks to his dead family.

🩻 They [The family] brought you and Miguel back to the land of the dead to find out how to bring you back to the living realm. Miguel's great-great grandmother; Mama Imelda, was stuck in the land of the dead, because Miguel had taken her photo of the ofrenda.

💀 The skeleton guy behind the computer tells you that since Miguel brought you here, his great-great grandmother can send you back. You were thrilled, but Miguel was not. You both went back, but were immediately sent back, but this time he wasn't going to give up music.

👩🏼‍🎨 You didn't understand why he was being so reluctant, but then he compares it to your art [Based on the paint all over you] and saying how would you feel if someone tried telling you you could never create art again.

👩🏼‍🎨💀 You decided to help him find his great-great grandfather to get his blessing and are dragged all across the land of the dead. You have to avoid his family, so they don't take either of you back.

👩🏼‍🎨💀🦴 You both ran into a man named Héctor, who decided to help you both- Without knowing the full truth. Though he is not pleased when he does.

👩🏼‍🎨💀 🦴 You are both embarrassed when Hector calls you 'boyfriend & girlfriend' which you both adamantly deny. Hector puts his hands up apologizing.

👩🏼‍🎨💀 🦴 So, off you all are to find Ernesto to get that blessing, but you have to be quick, because you and Miguel are slowly becoming skeletons. Miguel promises that he won't let you die here and that if push does come to shove, he will take his great-great grandmother's blessing, just so you can be back and safe in the mortal realm. He doesn't want you being stuck because of him. You don't deserve that- At least, not to him.

👩🏼‍🎨💀🎸You are both surprised when Ernesto tries to kill you both. You had become close to Miguel in this time, after having spent so much time together and bonding over your love and passions. You wanted to help him. You didn't think it was fair that his family was trying to take away his passion because of something that happened a long time ago

🦴 Come to find out, Hector is Miguel's real great [2x] grandfather and that Ernesto killed him.

💀🦴 Miguel and Hector have a cute bonding moment. It made you really emotional, especially knowing what was taken. A whole family ruined because of a selfish man.

🐕💃🏼 You're all thankful when Imelda found you- Thanks to Miguel's dog- But she was not happy to see Hector

💃🏼 She takes you back to the rest of Miguel's family, who are happy to see you both in one piece. You may not have been apart of the family by blood, but you were now seen as one of them, especially since their descendent had brought you to this place. You were still surprised when she [Imelda] expressed concern for you and hugged you. Though she beredes Hector, but Miguel is quick to his defnese.

💀💃🏼 Miguel says he'll finally take her bless, but he has to find Hector's photo from Del la cruz, so he can come to the world of the living, but Imelda is still convinced he left the family. Miguel explains to her what really happened, but she's unconvinced and doesn't seem to care, still heartbroken about what he did.

🦴💃🏼 Imelda and Hector have a good moment together and while she says she doesn't forgive him, she's more than willing to help.

👩🏼‍🎨💀💃🏼🦴🎸🩻 There is a great moment where you go backstage. Imelda hits Ernesto for murdering the love of her life and trying to kill her grandson and you. You and the rest of Miguel's family chase him trying to get the photo. You and the rest are bombarded by security- But Imelda finally gets the photo, but is brought to the stage.

💃🏼 Imelda sings while on stage, while trying to give one of you the photo, but security is on her- not to mention Ernesto also catches her, making it hard for to give you the photo. He ends up snatching the photo from her, but she stomps his foot and is able to give it to Miguel. She finally gives you and Miguel her blessing, but changes the condition to remember how much her family loves her, until Ernesto grabs both you and Miguel.

🎸👩🏼‍🎨 Miguel ends up slipping from his hand, but Ernesto keeps a tight grasp on you and Miguel's spirt guard tries saving you, but Ernesto wasn't having it. He throws you towards the edge of the stage[?], before slowly cornering you to the edge, nearly causing you to fall. They all try and calm him down, but it's not working.

💀 Miguel sees the opportunity to turn on the camera and put it at you and Ernesto and everyone in the audience watches as Ernesto nearly kills you

🎸👩🏼‍🎨🐈‍⬛ You scream when he throws you off the edge and all that crosses your mind is that you were going to die- You nearly hit the ground when Imelda's spirt guide saves you after Miguel's spirt dog tries to. You are so thankful for that flying cat, you nearly cry.

👩🏼‍🎨💀💃🏼Miguel was the first to hug you and apologize when you're back on the roof. He would have kissed you if his whole family [and thousands of audiences] wasn't watching him. The rest of the family surrounds you, making sure you are alright.

🐈‍⬛🎸Imelda's spirt animal goes out, throwing Ernesto around before flying him through the air, before he hits a bell and hits his ultimate demise.

💀👩🏼‍🎨 You apologize to Miguel for losing the photo and telling him you can try looking for it, but it's too late. He's disappointed, but not mad, because you almost died. You grab the guitar and rush with him back to his place- After he follows you. There's so much going on that you end up getting pushed to the back. It's incredible when hearing Miguel sing to her and she responds. You almost feel like you're intruding on a family moment.

With the letters Coco kept, everyone realizes what Ernesto had done and Hector becomes famous, as he should have been. You and Miguel become bonded over the experience and eventually start dating, knowing no one would ever know each other like you know each other.

[veryace-ficrecs]

Coco (2017) Fic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

Ernesto de la Cruz vs. The Court of Public Opinion by skater_of_the_surface - Rated G

The thrilling sequel to Coco that you've all been waiting for! Miguel visits ... wait for it... wait for it... A LIBRARY. Or : Miguel probably can't prove that Ernesto is a murderer, but stupendous fuckbucket is still on the table.

Te Esperaré by lachingona - Rated G

"I thought I threw it out." Imelda mutters. Her words hardly audible, barely a whispered breath. No matter how hard she tried to will the anxiety away, her voice still falters and threatens to break. "I thought I got rid of it." AU. Coco puts up Hector's photo.

The Witnesses by vifetoile - Rated G

When Miguel returns to Santa Cecilia, not everyone believes his story. Experts are called in.

The World Es Mi Familia by bunnikkila (StarlitSkvader) - Rated G

After his night in the Land of the Dead, Miguel remembers the souls with nowhere to go - and decides he's going to change that. After all - the world is his family.

Shaken by How Long it Took by Eurazba - Rated G

9 year old Miguel finds an old photo in the attic of none other than his great, great grandfather and Ernesto De la Cruz! He puts it up on his shrine to Ernesto and at the next Dia de los Muertos Héctor is shocked to find that he can finally cross the marigold bridge.

It Becomes A Game by MandolinDoodler - Rated G

One visit to the Land of the Dead was not enough to grant Miguel any supernatural powers. Five visits, however.... Oscar and Felipe find a loophole to the curse and it turns into a game played behind Imelda's back. OR Five times Miguel was cursed to come back to the Land of the Dead and one time he did it himself

But the Layin' in the Grave so Long (Poor Boy) by ClearWindCalmSkies - Rated G

After 96 years, it's about time Papá Héctor came home.

Offerings by SatuD2 - Rated G

In the years following Miguel's visit to the Land of the Dead, Día de Muertos was very different for one shabby skeleton.

Language for the Dead by meggannn - Rated T

On October 31 2024, the Rivera family has gathered at the hacienda for Día de Muertos. Miguel is nowhere to be found.

The Musician with Poison Tears by sweetiepie08 - Rated G

Miguel Rivera’s been fascinated by the story of the legendary ghost, the Musician with Poison Tears, since he was a kid. He’s always wanted to know the full story behind the weeping specter that haunts the train station with its invisible guitar. Now 18, the travels to Mexico City to try to observe the ghost from afar and get some clues about its origin. Who knows? He might even get a song out of it.

Mexico City by Donteatacowman - Rated G

“Come to Mexico City!” It was an old refrain by now, one Miguel had heard at least a hundred times to the point that it became a running joke among his diehard fans. The first time he’d responded to it a year or so back, when a fan asked him point-blank why he never did shows in Mexico City, he’d said, “Too many ghosts.” This is why.

Reflection by Becky_Tailweaver - Rated G

Becoming a musician is only one of Miguel's many big goals, and he's already succeeding in a lot of them. There's one dream, however—one of his most precious, secret dreams—that he's failed to achieve.

Echoes on a Toy Guitar by Foggy_Fanfic - Rated T

Imelda's parents die before she realizes Hector isn't coming back. On the next Day of the Dead, the only photo she has of her parents is from her and Hector's wedding; she puts it on the ofrenda without a second thought. That night, the toy guitar Hector sent for Coco starts playing her lullaby all by itself.

another universe, another time by volunteer_of_hufflepuff - Rated T

Things slip and change, but Héctor Rivera remains very dead, albeit slightly less estranged from his family. . Or: a collection of short stories of what-ifs and maybes, of people accidentally stumbling onto the tragedy of Héctor Rivera a little too early.

Reunions by orphan_account - Rated T

In which Miguel never meets Ernesto de la Cruz that night, but he manages to get Coco to remember her father anyway - thanks to a picture in his pocket. Basically a later reunion in the Land of the Dead between daughter and father, husband and wife.

The 8 O'clock Song by KazenoShun - Rated G

It's been 10 years since Imelda Rivera was abandoned by her no-good husband and she banished music from her life. She's content to keep away from music for the rest of her life, but a chance encounter during a trip to Mexico City may turn that resolution on its head.

Pan Dulce by papergardener - Rated G

Coming Home by sheepwithspecs - Rated G

Imelda has forgotten so many things about her husband over the years. Too many. Therefore she sets herself on a mission to re-learn something about him: his favorite pan dulce.

Of course, she can't just ask him. That'd be too easy.

Oh, go away, Ernesto! by Ford_Ye_Fiji - Rated G

The Land of the Living has changed a lot since Héctor last saw it.

It's more than a little overwhelming, but this time he's not alone as he crosses the barrier between worlds.

Héctor Rivera and Ernesto De La Cruz sing in the plaza. Imelda likes what she sees.

Miguel’s Big Secret by papergardener - Rated G

Years later, Miguel finally decides to tell someone the truth of what happened on that Dia de los Muertos. But he doesn’t expect another secret to come out thanks to a bunch of eavesdropping spirits.

Should You Marry Mateo? by FootlessData507 - Rated G

Imelda's mother sets her up with every eligible bachelor in town. Imelda is less than pleased.

[imaredshirt]

“I should have killed you that night in Mexico City,” Ernesto says to Héctor as he holds up a half-empty bottle of tequila. “Should have killed you the very moment I had the chance.”

“Ah, you wouldn’t have had the guts,” Héctor says without missing a beat.

He never takes Ernesto’s grouchy threat seriously. Not when his friend has growled and grumbled and groaned the same empty words for years over any little inconvenience or annoyance he blames Héctor for.

When Héctor wakes him up to early to practice – “I'll kill you if you poke me again,” Ernesto gripes.

Héctor drinks all the coffee before Ernesto can get to it – “I should have killed you when I had the chance,” Ernesto whines in the middle of the kitchen.

Héctor embarrasses him in font of the Rivera family with another sappy tale of their childhood when Ernesto had moved Heaven and Earth to make sure his hermanito had something to eat at night – “Gah! I should have let you starve!” Ernesto  groans into his hands before adding a thousand embellishments to the story to make himself seem grander because his ego is just that big.

It’s an empty threat. It makes Héctor laugh sometimes.

Like now. He chortles to himself and nudges Ernesto’s empty shot glass closer to him. The movement sends Ernesto’s losing hand of playing cards sliding to the edge of the table. “Go on, you loser, drink up!”

Ernesto grumbles and pours himself his nth shot of clear liquor for the night.

Héctor can see Imelda over Ernesto’s shoulder, sitting at her desk by the window, head bowed over neatly arranged sheets of drawing paper. She’s singing to herself under breath as she works, sketching improvements to existing boot designs. A strand of silver hair falls over her brow.

Héctor begins to hum along to her beautiful voice until he hears Ernesto mutter, “I was planning to, you know.”

“Huh?” Héctor turns to him.

“Kill you,” Ernesto says. He’s shuffling the cards, lips twitching into something that’s not quite a snarl but close to it. “I planned it all for that night you left.”

Behind him, the sound of Imelda’s brothers laughing with Coco in the garden only vaguely catches Héctor’s attention. He leans forward on crossed arms, eyes the cards that Ernesto flicks across the table towards him. “The night I left?”

“When you left me in that cheap hotel in Mexico City ten years ago,” Ernesto says. “And took all your songs and your pinche guitar with you.” He’s done dealing out the cards when he meets Héctor’s eyes again. “I was going to kill you and take all of it for myself.”

Héctor narrows his eyes. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes. With rat poison, of all things,” Ernesto says. “But luck wasn’t on my side that night.”

Silence.

And then, as if on cue, they laugh. Héctor hugs his middle and tries not to send his cards flying. Ernesto’s shoulders are shaking and his head is bowed, laughing in that wheezy way of his that he’s only ever comfortable doing in the presence of people close to him.

Héctor says through his laughter, “I really piss you off that much, eh?”

“Every day,” Ernesto says. “Back then and even now – even now I still want to poison you.”

Any other man, and Héctor would blame the tequila for the harsh words. But this is Ernesto. The man just says things like that sometimes. Even his ridiculous jokes -even ones about abandoned murder attempts, apparently- sound charming with the way he speaks.

“You can try. But would the world really forgive you if you silenced this beautiful face forever?” Héctor gestures at his face with a flourish and gasps when Ernesto flicks a card at his nose. “Hey! Ouch!”

“Forget it,” Ernesto grouches. “I think if I try, Imelda will kill me a dozen times over.”

“I would enjoy that,” Imeda says without looking up from her work.

“I know.”

“Ah, well,” Héctor says. He pours them both shots of tequila and holds his glass up. “To failed plans and bright futures. Or, at least,” he adds, grinning lopsidedly at his friend. “At least to another ten years before you try again?”

He's had enough of the joke. He wants to end the night on a good note.

Ernesto stares at him for a long second before rolling his eyes with a scoff and raising his glass. “To bright futures and no more poison, I suppose. You’re too annoying to even get rid of at this point.”

“To being too annoying to get rid of!” Héctor crows and clinks their glasses together.

They drink, and get back to their game. Outside, the sun sets on a quiet evening at the Rivera home where everyone, at least for a good long time, lives happily.

[enigmatist17]

Miguel Rivera becomes the first Rivera to turn down tequila, the fifteen-year-old knocking the offered shot out of his father's hand and onto the ground.

He looked horrified at the drink, and the adults crowded around him asked him what was wrong.

So he tells them of the Día de los Muertos he'd gone missing and where he had actually gone. Of course, at first, none of them want to believe his tale as he talks, hands waving as he describes the day from start to end, but the dread starts sinking in part way through.

It explained why Miguel never went on the roof again after returning, the teen trembling now when asked to climb a ladder or somewhere high. How he had come back after his disappearance to sing a song to Mamá Coco that only she and her papá had ever sung together, despite not knowing a single thing about the man. It had been three days after that Miguel was found throwing his de la Cruz merchandise into the firepit the family had, the twelve-year-old refusing to speak as he tore posters and muttered curses his abuelita boxed the back of his head for. Any mention of the man as the family slowly came to grips with the infamous music ban finally being lifted would instantly sour his mood, going so far as to throw a record Abel found secondhand into the trash with a look of utter hatred. It also explained that when Miguel wasn't in school, he was diving headfirst into research, the proof Mamá Coco had saved instantly, sparking interest from historical researchers worldwide. It didn't take long for the truth of de la Cruz's theft to become public, and while the world raged, Miguel spent time with historians who flew out to Santa Cecilia going over all inn records from 1921 following the letters Héctor had sent.

Miguel cried when he finally found the last time H. Rivera was recorded checking into one, his name never again reappearing alongside E. de la Cruz after he left Mexico City in the dead of night.

Luisa embraces her son when she remembers the day officials had finally discovered Héctor's body in a hastily dug grave nearly an hour from the city, her son never leaving the coffin his bisabuelo's body had arrived in until it had been buried beside his wife. To have actually met the man and had come so close to losing him, the way Miguel had been a silent guardian until he was gently guided home, made too much sense.

They all stop breathing when a tearful Miguel recounts precisely how Héctor had been murdered, eyeing the tequila bottle with a shiver.

I'm scared to drink it.

The local liquor store where the Rivera's shopped never placed another order for tequila again.

---

Héctor was an easygoing guy. After living for so long, he took most things on the chin and smiled around the pain.

As long as it didn't revolve around Ernesto or...tequila.

For a long time, Héctor never understood why touching or drinking made him feel uneasy. It flowed like most other drinks in Shantytown, but he always hesitated when reaching for a bottle, or accepting an offered glass. They had all eventually stopped asking about the flinch he seemed to always be surprised by, and while he didn't entirely avoid it, Héctor turned to other drinks.

The fog in his mind of his death is finally cleared, and Héctor realizes why tequila has never satisfied him.

Now, here he sits among his familia, laughing about something as a glass is placed in his hand, and Héctor takes a sip before registering the smell of the tequila.

A large hand is on his back as his stomach twinges in pain, a voice that should have been soothing in his ear as he lets go of his guitar case, everything going cold as he collapses onto the dusty street

Perhaps it was that chorizo my friend

Héctor doesn't realize he's hyperventilating until gentle hands take hold of his skull, Imelda's lips moving but words unheard over the pounding in his ears. The glass he'd been holding had been crushed, and once he realized that damn liquid was all over his hand, Héctor shrieked and jerked back and onto the floor. It takes both Imelda and Rosita to keep Héctor in one piece, the matriarch of the family just talking to her husband in the softest voice they'd ever heard from her as Héctor tried to undo himself and run...somewhere. Eventually, she gets through to him, gently caressing the side of his skull as Héctor clings to her, eyeing the bottle of tequila on the table with wide eyes as his family crowds around him in concern. It takes him nearly an hour to begin his tale, his voice giving out far too many times for Héctor's liking, but he tells them of a night like any other at the start. Of a long day performing, leaving both himself and Ernesto tired but relatively happy, until Héctor had seen a photo of his family and felt the resolve that had wavered for months finally solidified.

I'm going home Ernesto! Hate me if you want, but my mind is made up!

Oh I could never hate you. If you must go then I'm...I'm sending you off with a toast!

¡Salud!

Of how he'd missed his friend's hatred until it was far too late, dropping to his knees as his body burned....and he awoke dead in a land that became his prison.

He had just wanted to go home.

Julio was the first Rivera to move once the poor man had finally gone silent, adjusting his hat before grabbing the tequila bottle on the table and leaving the room. For a few minutes, all the family could hear was the clinking of glass being set into something and faint curses as Julio went through what seemed to be every room in the entire Rivera household. Once satisfied, Julio returned, kneeling beside his father-in-law with a slight nod, able to see the taller man visibly relax when it dawned on him what he'd done.

The crate full of tequila was picked up by Victoria once Héctor had been coaxed to bed by Imelda, making sure the liquid would find its way to her abuelo's other family in Shantytown, as it would go to waste otherwise.

---

Dear Papá Héctor,

I hope you're having a great Día de los Muertos, I cooked everything on the ofrenda myself this year :D (sorry if it's burnt D:) to give Abulieta a break :)

I wrote this letter for you specifically because - I told them. Papá wanted me to try tequila, but I couldn't do it, and everyone wanted to know why, so I told them. From start to finish, though, I may have left out the part where I got thrown into the cenote and off the tower.

I promise to tell them someday, but it can wait <:)

Abuelita wanted me to say she's sorry for offering you tequila the past three years, and that when she eventually joins you, that she's going to smack a certain someone with her chancla. I told her Mamá Imelda beat her to it, but Abuelita said she didn't care, and you'll see how scary she can be :P

We are still trying to figure out another drink to leave you because, apparently, guitar picks aren't a suitable replacement :(

Te quiero Papá Héctor, make sure you do your best gritto for me!

Your bisnieto, Miguel <3

[pencopanko]

From an AU of mine in which Héctor actually recorded some songs before he died, and Miguel receives a second skull guitar from his family

[pencokun]

From a Coco AU of mine in which Héctor actually recorded some songs before he died, and Miguel receives a second skull guitar from his family

[juliedrawz]

Guys! My heart! Yesterday evening something happened that I didn't expect AT ALL!

So it was my cousins birthday. No biggie. Just another small family get together at my aunts. Some cake, some really good dinner, boring chit chat. You name it.

And, of course, eventually, I sat ... and sat ... and got bored. So I took out my Ipad and started drawing Coco stuff, when all of the sudden I hear my Dad go in a whisper to my great cousin (She's almost 7, mind you) "Uh oh ... don't let Julie hear that!"

Too late! Sweet familiar melodies I've engraved in my heart reach my ears and I'm immersed in the movie I love more than anything! I hear Héctor talk to Miguel and that's it. I Turn my head, the child giggles and grins and boom, I scuttle closer next to her and before we know it, we are BOTH deeply in the movie. Dad shakes his head grinning, Mom beams from ear to ear as my great cousin showers me with a huricane of questions and facts.

"Did you know Ernesto's guitar is actually Héctor's"?

"Yes, sweety! I know 😂"

"Why is Imelda angry at Héctor?"

"Because she was very sad when he didn't come back."

My great cousin loudly - "But he wanted to come back!! Ernesto kept him from going!"

Me - 🫠 "Yes, sweety! I know!!" 💪😭 *so proud!!*

And she literally proceeded to ask me questions and I answered them all! Why do alebrijes look so colorful? Why does Pepita turn back into a cat? Why does Miguel turn a skeleton? Why did Ernesto snap?

She also wanted to know my top 3 and DUH, did I say, Héctor, Imelda, Ernesto! Héctor being nr 1. And she agress but says, "Héctor, Miguel, Ernesto!" And I'm just 🥹💘 (She said, Ernesto folks!! She's a clever one! She doesn't put the "Villain" stamp on him but understands (as far as child can at that age) that something went wrong with him. One day, when she's old enough, she'll get to read my book! That's for sure!

And further more, speaking of Héctor's guitar, her Dad comes around singing un poco loco and asks, "Why can't you play her un poco loco?"

Me - "Because I've only been playing for 10 months? I'm not that good yet! 🥲"

He - "Well then learn faster!" 😂

Me - 🥲 "I wish I could! Believe me ... it's not that easy!"

And great cousin asks when I will finish Héctor's guitar. OF COURSE, Dad had to tell her what I'm up to!

Me - "Soon, I hope!"

Fast forward, un poco loco comes on, we sing! My aunt comes, hears and you can see the sneer in her face 🤣 but I already have the multitude on my side! So we settle in an agreement to turn the music down slightly!

And then Imelda comes and sings, and my great cousin goes "Imelda sings sooooo good!"

And I 🥰 "Oh yes she does!"

We keep watching the movie, kid keeps asking stuff, I answer and feel like the greatest nerd ever 😆🤓 The movie ends, we clapp and cheer, and kid proceeds to ask me to draw the characters. I show her my works and she's in awe! "Wow! You can draw them like in the movie!" And I'm 🤧❤️‍🔥 (you guys know kids are darn honest, no?) It went down like oil! I felt SO good! 🤣

Anyway, we drew a little, had dinner and then she fell asleep.

Will I continue to turn my family into Coco-fans? Heck yes!

[dragoneyes618]

The hotel room was small, sparse, and drab. A bulb dangling from the ceiling illuminated what was within it: two beds, a single night-table between them, a dresser, a closet. Two suitcases, one packed and closed tightly. Two guitar cases, one closed. Shards of broken glass in the corner, lying in a pool of liquid that stained the floorboards, looking almost like blood.

Two men sat on opposite sides of the room's small table, both pale and breathing fast. One big and broad-shouldered, with an air of bitterness and betrayal about him, his hands curled into fists so tightly that his knuckles are white with determination; the other tall and thin, with a look of fear, confusion, and shock on his face, an open book as always; the jagged, bleeding cuts on the back of his hand told the story of minutes ago, together with the glass shards and puddle of liquid in the corner; of a casual glance to see what was taking so long in delivering the promised toast, of a glimpse of a small, strange bottle, of an instinctual reaction, knocking the glass out of the other's hand in a primal rush of bewilderment and fright as it was proferred, wounding his own hand but prolonging his life for a few moments more.

He hadn't run, then. He had asked Ernesto, What is that? What did you do? What did you put in my drink? He'd awaited the answer with hope and dread. Ernesto was his friend, after all, and when they could talk things out why resort to -

Wait, Ernesto had said, brows drawn low in displeasure; he could still salvage this. He could still do what needed to be done. Don't leave yet. We need to talk. I need to talk to you.

On the table between them were three things. A half-empty bottle of tequila; full when Ernesto had offered to toast him, it had only been used to fill two glasses. The second glass sat beside it, full of tequila and something else, half a bottle's worth of something invisible, near-tasteless, and deadly; the remainder of the bottle sat safely inside Ernesto's shirt pocket, should he ever need to use it again. The third thing was Héctor's red leatherbound songbook.

"I need your songs, Héctor," Ernesto said simply. The light cast his face in shadow.

"You couldn't have asked me for them?" Héctor rasped. He couldn't quite believe this was happening. Surely Ernesto could never harbor such resentment and hatred. Surely this was some sort of elaborate joke, and Ernesto would let him in on it any moment now. Surely.

"Would you have given them to me?" Ernesto retorted.

"If you'd asked me for them, I would!" 

Ernesto faltered, but it was too late now. There was no going back. "I'm taking your songs, Héctor. They're excellent songs. Everyone loves them. I can't do this without your songs," he repeated his plea from minutes earlier.

"You couldn't have asked me?" Héctor repeated. "Your first thought was to - to -" He waved a shaking hand at the glass of tequila. The amber liquid inside seemed to almost glow.

"You decided to leave." Ernesto's eyes were downcast, in anger or shame. His voice was hard. "If you leave, my career is over. I had to do this."

"You had to?" The situation seemed so surreal, so absurd, that Héctor actually began to laugh. It was a half-choked, half-sobbed laugh, scraping his throat on its way out, born of hysteria, but it was a laugh, and Ernesto looked discombobulated. "Killing me was the first solution you thought of? You want my songs? Take them! They obviously matter a lot more to you than they do to me!"

He shoved the book across the the table; it slid to a stop mere inches away from the edge. Ernesto touched the tip of a single finger to it, then quickly withdrew it as though the cover had burned him.

Héctor stood up. "I'm leaving, Nesto. Please don't try to stop me. I don't-"

Ernesto looked up, quickly, nearly caught off guard. "No. Wait."

"Again?" Héctor demanded. "You have my songs - the songs you apparently think are worth my life -" He stuttered for a moment, the betrayal and bewilderment still unprocessed, but managed to continue. "- I'm going home now. For good."

"You're not," Ernesto said. "I won't let you."

"You won't let me?"

"I need you to drink this." Ernesto tapped a finger on the rim of the glass.

Héctor stared at him. "The first time you tried to give that to me wasn't enough? You actually expect me to drink it? Why would I?" His voice turned plaintive. "Why do you want me to? You have my songs now. I thought we were friends, Ernesto - do you hate me that much?"

"No," Ernesto admitted. "I don't want to do this."

And yet he was. "What's stopping me from just walking out the door?"

"Nothing," Ernesto admitted freely, and Héctor opened his mouth, but Ernesto continued. "But then, nothing will be stopping me from walking out the door either. We can both catch the train. Which one of us will get to your family first?"

It took a moment for Héctor, idealistic, hopeful Héctor, to understand what Ernesto meant, but once he did, the implications crashed over him like a wave; he actually staggered backward a step, the blood draining from his face. He gripped the back of the chair for support.

When he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper; his tongue, suddenly dry, could scarcely form the words. "You would....you would hurt them...?"

The moment stretched like taffy, sticky and endless, as Ernesto slowly looked up and met his eyes, with nothing in his own but sheer determination and - ruthlessness. How had Héctor never seen it? The memories of a thousand conversations and disagreements, reactions and offhand comments, replayed in his head with sickening accuracy, reinterpreting his friend in an entirely new light.

Héctor heard a dull roaring in his ears. He could scarcely breathe. The very air seemed to be a miasma of menace, as though waiting for something, something malevolent, and he shuddered; it was like that terrible eternity between the dropping of a dish and its shattering on the floor, only this would have far worse consequences than some broken pottery.

"Yes," Ernesto said softly, and Héctor shuddered, thinking of Imelda, her beautiful dark eyes, how she sang and danced, how she could make anything with her hands, how she gave him advice that was always, always correct - of his little Coco, her eyes shining with excitement as he spun her around, her warm, heavy weight in his arms, her shrieks of laughter-

He saw their faces bloodless, lifeless, pale skin and dead eyes staring at nothing, covered in blood on the floor, or curled up in the remnants of agony from the poison-

"What do you want?" Héctor rasped. "Please, Ernesto. What do you want?"

"I told you," Ernesto said. "Your songs." He tapped the songbook, apparently free of any searing feeling of guilt it had aroused in him earlier. "And no one can know, Héctor."

"No one can know that you stole the songs from me," Héctor realized. "So you have to- to-" He still couldn't say it.

"This would have been easier if you'd just drunk it before. If you hadn't noticed."

"But I did," Héctor whispered, and he almost wished he hadn't. At least he would have died not knowing that his best friend had betrayed him so. "So you want me to drink this myself?"

"If you don't," Ernesto began to lay out Héctor's options. "You can go back home. But I'll go back home too. I know where you live. Imelda and Coco trust me. And Santa Cecilia is a little town far away from anything, no crime, no nothing - does your door even have a lock?" Without waiting for Héctor's answer, if there was one, he went on. "Imelda and Coco trust me." Just like you did went unsaid. "They wouldn't suspect anything until the last minute. Or I could hire some people looking to make some easy cash. You'll find, there are some people who will do anything for a bit of money, and the shows have certainly been paying well lately, haven't they?"

Héctor moistened his lips and glanced at the door, but Ernesto seemed to know what he was thinking.

"You could go to the police, but you'll have to explain to them that your performing partner wants to k-kill-" He, too, spoke the word with difficulty. "- you and your family for the songs you wrote. Then they'll send an officer with you to Santa Cecilia, or maybe they'll send a message there, not that we have much in the way of police. What is it, three officers? All that will take a while, and meanwhile the next train there leaves within the hour. I'll get there long before they do."

Héctor couldn't breathe, a torrent of nightmarish images sweeping through his mind.

"Either you drink that," Ernesto's voice was almost inaudible, "or it's your family. Make the smart choice, Héctor."

The smart choice. Héctor almost laughed again. Smart for Ernesto, so no one would ever know what he'd done to him. And smart for Héctor, who wouldn't have to blame himself for the fate of his family.

"I'll write to Imelda, tell her you died of food poisoning or some sort of illness." Ernesto's voice was almost placating. "I'll send back all your things to her. Well, except your songbook, of course, I'll tell her threw up on it or something. I'll even send her a pension of whatever I earn for a while. She won't suspect anything. I won't have to - to harm her."

"Oh, how generous," Héctor muttered. "And you helping to support the grieving widow of your best friend- " He spat the words with venom. " - won't hurt your precious career either, will it?"

"It won't hurt," Ernesto admitted.

Ernesto could have forced Héctor to drink it, could have held him down and forced it down his throat until he swallowed enough of it. But while Héctor was skinny and couldn't win a fight to save his life - quite literally, in this case - he was still a healthy man in his early twenties, and he would put up enough of a struggle for people to no doubt wonder where Ernesto had gotten all those scratches and bruises from. And even after he'd drunk it, Ernesto would still have to restrain him for however long it took for the poison to work, to keep him from running away and telling someone what had really happened. Poisoning Héctor for his songbook would be pointless if Ernesto was caught for it even after his death.

Besides, if Héctor drank it on his own....then it wasn't like Ernesto had made him drink it, was it? Not really, anyway.

Héctor stared at the glass. The liquid shimmered hypnotically. "You really mean this."

"I do," Ernesto agreed. "I didn't want to, for what it's worth."

It was worth more than Ernesto thought. "Were we ever really friends?" Héctor couldn't keep himself from asking.

A pained expression crossed Ernesto's face. "Yes. I'd swear to that. I don't want to do this, Héctor. But we've been dreaming of this for years. We're finally so close to success. And you betrayed me like this. I need to-" He shook his head.

Héctor stared at him, wishing he had the luxury of not believing what his ears and eyes were telling him. "And for this you would hurt my Coco? She's just a little girl."

Ernesto's eyes gleamed almost fanatically. "For this? I would do anything."

It was a choice between Héctor and his family, and that was no choice at all.

His fingers closed around the cold glass, and Ernesto leaned forward, staring at the man he had once called a friend in order to make sure he drank every last drop, or at least enough.

Héctor raised the glass to Ernesto in a sardonic mockery of a toast. "See you in Hell," he vowed, and drank.

[niyana-the-ambiguous-mobian]

I like to think that unlike Bowser, who sung a traditional-ish piano love ballad about Peach, Mario strikes me as writing a song like Un Poco Loco from Coco for Peach, which in-universe was written by Héctor for Imelda: something silly and light-hearted and about how love is a little crazy (However, Game!Bowser would absolutely go for the originally intended metal version of Peaches if the climax of Mario Wonder if any indication)

Mario playing a guitar or even a ukulele to sing one of the love songs he wrote to Peach? That totally sounds like something he would do.

His singing is more on the shy end since he doesn’t think he has a very good singing voice, when it’s actually really nice to listen to.

[singeratlarge]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Trey Anastasio, Basia, BBC Radio 1 (1967), Monica Bellucci, singer-songwriter Derek Buckwalter, Jill Corey, Marion Cotillard, Angie Dickinson, The Flintstones (1960 A.D.), Éamonn Ó Gallchobhair, Miki Howard, Cissy Houston, Deborah Kerr, music aficionado Robert Lapolt, Héctor Lavoe, John Lombardo (10,000 Maniacs—good to have met you), Ben Lovett (Mumford & Sons), Félix Luna, Frankie Lyman, Dewey Martin (Buffalo Springfield), Johnny Mathis, Marilyn McCoo, David Oistrakh, vocalist Tim Oliver, Sylvia Peterson (Chiffons), the 1935 premiere of Gershwin’s PORGY & BESS, Buddy Rich, Bill Rieflin (King Crimson), Rumi, Shaan, Marty Stuart (good to have met you), The Supremes’s 1968 “Love Child” single, Robby Takac (Goo Goo Dolls), Biggie Tembo, Elie Wiesel, Jack Wild, Barry Williams, Frank Zincavage (Romeo Void), and the iconic singer-songwriter, poet, and auteur of glam rock, Marc Bolan. He was the face of T. Rex (a force of nature in British Rock), and his songwriting was an artful, impulsive mash of campy kitsch and cosmic medievalism, glitter, and psychedelia. Marc’s best-known hit, “Bang a Gong,” fused Chuck Berry-fied guitar with almost prog-rock vision, backed by Flo & Eddie, Ian McDonald, and Rick Wakeman. Davy Jones (Monkees) was a big Bolan fan, and he and I went through a phase of studying Bolan’s music, from B-side to outtake. Here’s Davy doing a cover of Bolan’s “Jeepster.” Marc left us too soon, but we thank you for the hours of rockin’ joy you gave to us.

#DavyJones #TheMonkees #MarcBolan #TRex #Glamrock #Britishrock #Jeepster #johnnyjblair #birthday #glitterrock #glitter

[paused-waterfall]

Missa and Tallulah come up with a Coco AU

Here, have a silly little scene I wrote that should definitely be in Spanish but isn't. (it will take a LOT more studying before I can invent miscommunication that works in Spanish lol)

Missa was walking through Rose's Sanctuary when he heard music drifting out of the treehouse. The song fit the feel of the place. It was pretty, a little uncertain, and a little sad. Missa was sure he knew it from somewhere, but he hadn't quite nailed it down. He climbed up to see who was playing.

Tallulah was sitting cross-legged in the nest, holding her guitar. She froze as she saw Missa. He froze at the top of the ladder in turn.

"Tallulah! I should've guessed that was you." Missa gave his best nonthreatening smile, and Tallulah gave a little wave. Missa climbed the rest of the way up the ladder and sat awkwardly on the floor next to his... adoptive stepgranddaughter? Or was it stepdaughter now? Was "step" even applicable? He wasn't sure.

"You play super well!" he told her. "I was sure Chayanne was playing a record up here or something."

Tallulah shrugged and nodded, looking shy.

"Was that the song from Coco?" Missa asked. Tallulah gave another nod, more enthusiastically this time. "I love that movie," he said. "The animation is just so beautiful."

Tallulah set her guitar aside so that she could sign, "It's one of my favorites, too. It reminds me of family."

Missa blinked a few times, mulling over the connection. "Oh. Yeah, I can see that." He laughed nervously. "It's the story of a foolish musician who let his dreams lure him away from his family." Missa smiled wistfully, looking over the railing and out over the sanctuary. "And who was too much of a fuckup to make it home for them. But I don't have any fancy designs on my skull like Héctor does."

Tallulah looked up sharply at the last few words. "What? You aren't Héctor," she signed rapidly, looking annoyed. "My papa Wilbur is Héctor."

Missa winced. Of course it wasn't about him. After all, he and Tallulah barely knew each other. But it was weird to think that he wasn't the only Héctor in their little family.

"Wait," he said. "If Wilbur is Héctor, does that make you Miguel, or Coco? And is Philza... the strict Abuelita?"

Tallulah rolled her eyes and signed, "It's not an exact match!"

"Quackity must be Mamá Imelda, and El Quackity can be Ernesto de la Cruz and--"

Tallulah jumped up, trying to gesture emphatically enough to interrupt him, "None of those make sense!" She was visibly trying not to break into laughter.

"-- somehow Pepito has to be Pepita!" Missa made little flapping motions with his hands to represent the giant alebrije. Both of them started laughing in earnest at that.

Maybe it wasn't a perfect metaphor.

[tylerxm]

Mil Y Un Recuerdos. — A Short-Fic (Ernector).

Two children playing mischief in a simple pueblo like Santa Cecilia. The dynamic duo of yet-to-be-released musicians scampered through the sparsely populated streets of the small pueblo, laughing and enjoying the warm breeze.

There was the younger of the two, 14-year-old Hector Garcia Rivera, and the older, 18-year-old Ernesto Herrera Cruzado.

Both were running from an angry fruit vendor who was chasing them through Plaza del Mariachi for stealing a small bag of fruit.

Well, no big deal.

They lost sight of him as they both ran into a dark alley. Ernesto covered the younger man's mouth and Hector did the same with Ernesto's mouth, watching as the fruit vendor continued to run. Apparently, he turned around and went back to the fruit shop. They smiled mischievously.

- Did you see his face? It was as rojo as a tomate with anger. - Rivera let out a light laugh as he sat down on the dirty floor. Ernesto followed him and sat down in front of him.

- Not even his seasonal tomates are as red as he is. - Ernesto drew a laugh from Hector that made De La Cruz smile.

- Your place or mine? - Ernesto added, trying not to get the guitar on his back dirty.

- Yours, you know how my madre is. -

Ernesto nodded as he stood up and offered Hector his hand to get up. Hector took it to walk to Ernesto's house.

How lucky Ernesto was and at the same time how unlucky he was; the poor man had lived alone since 6 months ago.

His mother passed away and his father left them when he was 10. He still suffered silently for the death of his beloved mother. He prayed next to her precious soul every night, even though he wasn't super religious.

Hector knew how affected Ernest was on the subject, and he wasn't very present when his mother died because of his family, but he did send him letters and small comforts from a distance.

He patted Nesto's back before entering his house, empathetic. He knew how affected he was still.

Ernesto left the bag of fruit on the nightstand he kept next to his double bed. He closed the door behind him, letting out a sigh. He had a bed like that because it was where he and his mother slept after his father left them.

He took the guitar off his back, leaving it on the bed as he reached into the drawer of that same bedside table for his diario ideas notebook. Héctor sat down next to Nesto's guitar, looking at him curiously.

Ernesto found the notebook, setting it on top of the bed as he sat down in front of Hector. He smiled slightly as he felt his heart shrink slightly at the song he was about to sing to Héctor.

Héctor finally connected the dots, grinning from ear to ear with an excited gleam in his eye.

- Have you composed a song? Déjame oírla, por favor!! - He said between pleas as he lightly moved Ernesto eagerly grabbing his shoulders. Ernesto laughed, soothing him.

- Okay, pero no te rías. - He said as he looked at the smooth-skinned young man, feeling his own dark circles under his eyes.

- I'll try not to. - He said attentively to the stranger as he watched him grab his guitar. Ernesto positioned himself to sing in a soft but melancholy voice.

The opening guitar melody began, so that he could sing along.

"I stumbled upon your gaze

And I still can't get up

If it were up to me, believe me by now

I would have left.

But it was my heart

Who took possession of this illusion

And even though it's suffering

It doesn't give up."

Hector seemed to be really attentive, looking at Ernesto with surprise and some confusion. Was that melody for someone? Did Ernesto have a secret passive love? Or perhaps a lack of love?

"You have reasons I know

To find someone better

But something deep inside me

All this ignores.

It tells me that you're for me

That if I thought I lost you

I was wrong

That I'll start again from now on."

Héctor's frown was sad, as the older man's closed-eyed expression expressed pain, a lot of pain and suffering. Poor Héctor was really getting into the song, for it was depressing.

"Accept me into your heart

Just as I am, don't you see that I am

That I no longer have room in my soul for suffering.

I'm dying to leave

Somewhere my sorrow

And run after you without further thought."

The youngest's eyes crystallized, settling down as he tried not to cry. He sighed deeply, closing his eyes as he let himself be carried away.

"Understand that I am now at a disadvantage

at a disadvantage if I leave

I've already looked for you and I have no other way out.

Than your contempt to bear

Until you manage to tear away

The last drop of my cry in this life."

A few last notes faded into the air from the guitar. 'Nesto opened his eyes to behold a smiling Héctor without showing his teeth, slowly weeping for the song.

Ernesto's crystallized eyes were still there, now with a somewhat broken voice trying not to fall apart in front of his friend.

- So... What do you think? - He said curiously after all, then asking him if it was okay. Hector let out a small chuckle through his tears, nudging the older man lightly.

- Chinga, who hurt you so bad bud'? -

Ernesto let out a laugh, while looking with bright and emotional eyes at Héctor. A very, very subtle blush was on his cheeks, unnoticeable because of the poor light in the room.

- You'll find the persona indicada. - Hector said, laying a hand on the older man's shoulder.

What Hector didn't know is that he had already found someone he knew he would never be able to have.

Tuyo por siempre, -Ernesto.

might say! this fic was heavily inspired by some content creator that used to upload things about Ernesto and Héctor, credits to them. ;) → @/appatary8523