#im being delivered fanfic directly to my front door like the morning newspaper

[scepterno]

you've given me all the validation i need, and so i am coming out of the woodworks to further spread my josé redemption arc propaganda

because to josé it's one thing to see his little brother open and vulnerable, and choose not to use that to hurt him. it's one thing to try and offer whatever comfort he can, put those people skills to use and figure out how to best help his little brother. it's one thing to be trusted and looked to for stability when in crisis

it's an entirely different thing to be vulnerable, to be offered comfort, to trust. that's the hard part. that's what's terrifying

josé can feel the cold heaviness on his chest from the moment he opens his eyes. it's a phenomenon he's dealt with for years and years now, this churning tightness in his chest, urging him to look away from people's eyes, to hunch his shoulders, to stay where he is and just curl up in bed. it doesn't pop up very often, only a couple of times a year and it's only lasts for about a day or two at max. this somehow feels worse than all the other times

of course josé never listened to it. he's a burromuerto, he's not about to be defeated by some silly, fleeting sentiment. it doesn't matter how much the thought of having to talk to others, having to represent his and his family's value makes him want to hide away in his room and never come out. he's the perfect son, he's not weak. he worked hard to be where he is, to have the reputation he has now, he's not about to ruin it with some cheap excuse for laziness and moping

and just like every other time he's felt like this, josé ignores it and gets on with his routine. he's meant to meet up with alejandro in about 20 minutes, they are to go to the mall and hang out for some time, then head back to his apartment to catch the first airing of some new tv drama they're making their next target, easy as that

he could call it off, something treacherous and pathetic whines in the back of his mind. he could make up some excuse about being sick and he could just get back in bed

he shuts that thought off quickly. no. absolutely no way. he's not some weak pansy. he's josé burromuerto, he's not about to wuss out of something because of some shameful little pressure in the back of his throat. he's ignored it just fine every other time, went about charming people and talking to them as he's meant to, perfect and confident and unshakeable. he can do it again

he makes sure his grin looks real when he greets alejandro, makes sure his voice is strong and his shoulders set as he talks, makes sure he's every bit the man he prides himself on being, makes sure to hide every bit of that disgusting weakness inside of him. he does not falter. he does not fail. he cannot

he keeps the act up all the way back to his apartment, walking a step ahead of alejandro, barely pausing to kick his shoes off before stepping deeper into the livingroom, still talking animatedly, voice steady and posture perfect. he makes sure every part of him is presentable and flawless. anything less is unacceptable

he only falters when alejandro calls his name suddenly, cutting him off mid sentence. josé turns to look at him and sees him standing at the threshold of the room, something...uncertain in his expression. he walks closer to josé, peering at his face with enough intensity to make josé want to avert his eyes. he doesn't

alejandro continues before josé can respond. "you seem off today," he says, concerned gaze searching for something josé desperately hopes he cannot find. "are you okay?"

josé can only blink at the question. he blinks again. and then again. and he keeps blinking, trying to get rid of the heaviness, the burning in his eyes. he opens his mouth to respond and his voice catches at the first syllable, stuck behind something heavy in his throat. he's tearing up, josé realizes to his own horror. he's crying

he snaps his gaze away, hoping to keep at least some of his dignity intact, mind racing for a way out of this situation. he forces a laugh, hopes alejandro can't hear how wet it is, makes some snarky remark about alejandro's eyesight and tries to rapidly bite back the urge to snap and lash out. don't make a scene don't make a scene you can't you can't stop no no no--

he flinches when something touches the back of his head, eyes cutting back to focus on alejandro again. his face is twisted with something vile and pitiful, and josé doesn't need anyone's pity, least of all alejandro's-

but before he can make out the words, the hand on the nape of his neck pulls him forward and straight into alejandro. he's left wide eyed as his face presses into alejandro's shoulder, his head tilted down an inch to accommodate for their height difference. he doesn't move a muscle as alejandro collapses his cane and tucks it away, his now free hand coming to wrap around josé shoulders

"you don't have to pretend, hermano," he says softly, "not with me." and josé-- josé feels something inside him, something that's been stretched thin to it's limit and then some, worn and ragged from overuse, finally rip apart. it's not an explosive, violent thing. it doesn't snap to strike at anyone in range, simply falls apart now that the pressure is gone, tired and done

and josé's vision grows cloudy as tears fill his eyes and flow down his cheeks, he feels his face contort and his brow draw together in misery. his shoulders begin shaking as he curls inward, his breathing grows ragged and uneven, and in the end he can't resist the urge to close his eyes tight and tilt his head to hide against alejandro's shoulder. his hands come up to clutch at alejandro's shirt and in response he feels the arms around him tighten, pulling him firmly against a solid body

and they stay like that, josé doesn't even know for how long, in the middle of his livingroom, crowded in each other's space, josé with his face tucked into alejandro's shoulder, sobs he hasn't let loose in long, long years shaking his entire frame as he gasps around the clump in his throat. all the while alejandro keeps a strong hold of him, rubbing at the short hair on the back of his head and occasionally murmuring words that josé only half catches. they stay like that, alejandro holding him together while he breaks apart in his arms

sorry if this was a bit too out of character, i just felt like josé should be given a chance to have a miserable day where all it takes is one person asking you if you're okay for you to break down. and at one point he's gonna need to be weak and vulnerable in front of another person if he wants the comfort he never received as a child

oh