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[matadorable]

If you're hearing this message, I am probably not here. Or I am furiously pressing every button I can because I forgot how this thing works. One of the two! Either way, I will get back to you...eventually.

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[matadorable]

You think so? [He rubs the back of his neck, looking a bit sheepish.] This isn't as nice as the ones back home, but I did what I could. It...only felt right after what my family did for the town.

[He's not sure why he feels like he needs to explain himself. Out of all the people in this house, Joaquin understands him the best.]

I'm not expecting them to be here, but...who knows. [He looks at Joaquin with a soft smile, warmth in his eyes.] Miracles happen sometimes, right?

[medalsome]

Considering our options, I'm thinking this is pretty great! And is that legit mezcal? You definitely went all out.

[Someone must have bought it because Joaquin sure and shit still couldn't get his tequila.

He moves to the bed but slumps down next to it, using it as a backrest.]

Miracles are all around us lately, huh? [Coming from someone else that might have sounded like an optimistic statement.] Too bad we don't have portraits.

[matadorable]

[Manolo gives a modest shrug and a lopsided grin.] I had a little help with the mezcal. But it was my father's drink of choice, so I knew I had to at least try to find some.

[Maybe they could share the rest later. In the meantime, he sets his guitar down and crawls toward the foot of the bed. Settling on his stomach now, he peers down at Joaquin.]

That'd be nice. I think they'd let it slide this time around, though. At the very least, the food and alcohol would keep them distracted, eh?

manolo is such a teenage girl

[medalsome]

I'm glad you could get some. I know Cuban cigars were popular back home but trying to find any... [He shakes his head in disappointment.

He notes that Manolo is closer but he doesn't look up. It's a little memorizing, staring at the flames of the candles and how they illuminated the gifts set out.]

... I wish we at least had a picture. We could have set it in a nice frame, then maybe later gotten someone to make some proper portraits. [Manolo surely would have liked it. Joaquin had really only ever had the statue of his father, as his mother had cleaned out all the old pictures in one of her fits. Probably for the best, in its own way.

After a moment, Joaquin spoke again, his voice quieter.]

Has this holiday ever made you feel sad, Manolo?

he just wanna see his bro, man

[matadorable]

[Some pictures would be nice, if only so he could keep the memories of his family's faces close to his heart. But, unfortunately, Manolo only arrived here with the clothes on his back and some superpowers no one had asked for.

The question catches him off guard, though, and Manolo rests his chin in one hand with a thoughtful expression.]

I'd be lying if I said it didn't, but it's mostly when I try to imagine what life might have been like if my mother hadn't died. We would have had a lot of great times together, and I think things would have been different between me and my father. In the end, though, it just makes me cherish the memories I do have of her, which is what it's all about anyway.

[medalsome]

[Joaquin listens, taking in Manolo's words with understanding. There were always what-ifs.]

Your father loved you very much, Manolo. [Perhaps it was an odd thing to want to reassure him about, but it was something that Joaquin knew to be true. He wished he could know for certain if it was the same for himself.]

... Memories, huh?

[He didn't have much of those to speak of. Not good ones, anyway.]

[matadorable]

...I know he did. [And Manolo loved him too, which was part of what made their arguments so painful to him. Still, he appreciates Joaquin's words, and he gazes down at his friend with a gentle smile.] He was just afraid for my future, which was why he was always so hard on me. I understand that now.

[He'd mostly been talking about his own experiences when he mentioned memories of his mother, but Manolo knows drawing comfort from personal recollections isn't always possible.]

Listening to stories about the deceased can be just as good, though. Closing your eyes and taking a moment to just feel their presence can also be of great comfort. As long as you honor their memory in some way, they're never truly gone. That's the most important thing.

[medalsome]

I guess most parents are like that. [That's what caused the same problems between General Posada and Maria, wasn't it?]

I didn't...

[No. He didn't want to make this about himself. It was easy enough for Manolo to say these things and believe them but Joaquin, he just hadn't really had anyone to tell him stories. Even the ones Posada talked about, it wasn't from a very close standpoint despite his reassurances that Captain Mondragon had been like a brother. He still saw him like a hero, spoke of him with awe in his voice. With distance.

But again, Joaquin didn't want to make tonight about himself. He shifted.]

Then why don't you tell me a story then. About someone in you family.

[matadorable]

[Manolo pauses, patiently waiting for Joaquin to finish his thought. He'd sort of assumed Joaquin had been asking him these questions with his own family situation in mind, since they both knew he didn't exactly grow up in an ideal environment.

But then his friend makes that request, and Manolo's face brightens.] A story? Hmm...

[He thinks for a minute before apparently settling on something and sitting up enough to fold his legs underneath himself.]

You've probably heard of the Amazing Carmelo Sanchez, but did you know he was famous for fighting bullfighters without a cape? [Throwing his shoulders back, he balls his fist and stares up at the ceiling.] "Capes are for cowards!"

[And he punctuates that dramatic declaration by pretending to spit off to the side.]

Then you've got the Great Jorge Sanchez, who actually had the voice of an angel. But what he was really famous for? Fighting bulls with one arm and one leg! [He leans toward Joaquin, earnestly shaking his fist at him.] "Arms and legs...are for cowards, Joaquin!"

[Are you noticing a pattern here?]

My grandfather Luis Sanchez, though, he wasn't going to let his ancestors outshine him, oh no. People began calling him "El Super Macho" because he believed the bullring was the ultimate test of manliness. In fact, he was famous for fighting three bulls at once.

[Puffing up his chest, Manolo places a hand on one hip, the other dramatically stretched out as though brandishing an imaginary sword.]

"Fighting one bull is for cowards!"

[medalsome]

[Joaquin settles in, expecting something about Carlos and finds himself surprised to hear Manolo talking about the other Sanchez bullfighters instead. Sure, he had seen the fliers that were still posted over at the bullring in San Angel but...

The first statement about Carmelo leaves Joaquin confused. How do you fight a bull without a cape?

The second proclamation about Jorge causes Joaquin to chuckle.] "Wh-what?"

[And then the very last statement makes Joaquin laugh in earnest, overcome by incredulity and hilarity.]

"Good lord, Manolo! Are you kidding me? Who... What... Why is your family so crazy? I mean, it sure sounds manly but...

[matadorable]

[Manolo's laughter joins Joaquin's, and he leans back on the palms of his hands now.] They are the craziest, but I love them. Even if they believe you've dragged the family name through the mud, they'll never abandon one of their own.

[Because, in the end, that's what family is supposed to be all about, right?]

Anyway, as you can imagine, my father had a lot to live up to, and my grandfather was determined to make his son even manlier than every Sanchez before him. So, at the age of about 9 or 10, my father began his training to become a bullfighter.

Rather than being afraid, though, he was very excited. Bullfighting was the path of all Sanchez men, and now he was well on his way to joining the greats such as Carmelo, Jorge and my grandfather.

[Manolo shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment.]

...As it turns out, though, leaving a child trapped in a ring with angry, thousand-pound beasts usually doesn't go well. Crazy, right?

[medalsome]

[Joaquin releases a few more chuckles, shaking his head. What a crazy bunch. But it seemed Manolo knew them all well, despite some of them being long dead before even Carlos was born. Joaquin decided not to dwell on it and instead to focus on Manolo's story.

He nodded when he heard of Carlos' enthusiasm. Seemed legit. But then the ending sunk in.]

.... Wait. He seriously went up against a bull at like... ten years old?

[WHAT THE HELL??]

[matadorable]

I know, right?! It's crazy! They are all crazy. [There is definite fondness in Manolo's voice, though, despite the way he's rolling his eyes right now.] I guess the family decided he was either going to live up to the Super Macho legacy or die trying. Unfortuntaely, one misstep was all it took for his little body to get trampled. He didn't wake up again for three years.

[medalsome]

[Mother Mary, Carlos was a badass. But also very stupid. Kind of like Joaquin after he had the Medal but at least then Joaquin had reason to believe he would be okay no matter what.]

How... That's insane. Wow.

[Joaquin whistled lowly.]

I'm glad he at least had sense to not throw you in too early.

[matadorable]

Yeah, he said it was pretty jarring to wake up and realize three years of his life were gone. On the other hand, his voice was suddenly deeper, so it kind of felt like the bullfighting magically made him manlier.

[OH BULLFIGHTERS. Of course, bullfighting will always be apart of him as well, so it's not like he can completely divorce himself from that particular brand of crazy.]

That's true, he at least had the sense to start me off with the boar. Probably because he knew my mother would slap him if he tried anything more extreme.

[medalsome]

Well, that's one way to see the positives, I guess.

[Whatever worked for you, Carlos. Joaquin shook his head.]

Man, Manolo... I have to say, that was a pretty good story. Thanks for sharing.

[matadorable]

Not at all! Thank you for listening. I'm glad you enjoyed it.

[He grows silent for a moment, thinking about how his father's body is probably still out there, waiting for people to come bury him in the aftermath of the fight against Chakal. But he died in a way that he could be proud of, defending his home the same way his mother had given her life while defending her family. La Muerte had even given him the chance to come finish the job along with the rest of the Sanchez clan.]

You know, I can't even say this has been the strangest Day of the Dead, but it's definitely been the quietest. It was actually getting kind of lonely in here, so I'm really happy you knocked on my door.

[medalsome]

[Nothing could really beat what happened back home, but Manolo had a point. Joaquin turned his gaze back to the small alter, memorized again by the flames.]

Yeah... Every year back home, everyone in the village would get so caught up in the spirit of things. There weren't hardly any alters empty, there was always music, and the kids would run around playing all day and all night.

[Then a small smile tilts up at the corners of his lips.]

I'm glad you're here too, Manny. Not just today but.. everyday.

[matadorable]

[All the images, scents and sounds Manolo associated with the Day of the Dead definitely brought back nostalgic feelings from years past, especially when he recalled the way he, Joaquin, and Maria used to play in the graveyard together.

But most of those things were gone now, and they just had their memories and their best attempts to keep the tradition alive despite their circumstances.

Joaquin's last comment, though...the words seem to reach into Manolo's chest, warming his heart. Not just today, but everyday. It takes him a moment to swallow the unexpected lump in his throat.]

Hey...thank you. [He's definitely smiling.] I hope you know I feel the same about you.

[He doesn't want Joaquin to think he somehow takes him for granted.]

[medalsome]

[Having that turned around on him was hardly what Joaquin expected. He, after all, had never died. And he had been somewhat part of the reason why Manolo had been the one to die. Twice.]

That's... You shouldn't...

[But saying anything against that seemed rude, despite wanting to protest. He sighs and shakes his head, managing a smile.]

No, I know you do...

[matadorable]

[His friend's initial response isn't lost on him, and his eyebrows start to furrow in concern. But then he backtracks and graciously accepts the comment, relieving some of the tension in Manolo's stomach.]

I'm glad. [He reaches down, clapping a hand on top of Joaquin's shoulder from his perch on the bed.

...Suddenly there's a mischievous twinkle in his eye.] Hey, you know...I've still got some mezcal left.

[medalsome]

[Manolo seemed happy and that was more than Joaquin could ask for. He wanted him to be happy every day.

The mention of booze, however, distracted him from the heaviness of the emotions they had been sharing.] Now you're speaking my language!

[Eager, Joaquin shifts and puts his arm up on the bed, turning his body to watch Manolo go for the bottle.]

Can you believe they won't sell us this stuff? Seriously, at our age? You'd think they were afraid we'd be irresponsible about it.

[matadorable]

[That got his buddy's attention. Manolo laughs, moving to retrieve not just the bottle, but a couple of small glasses. Truth be told, he'd been hoping Joaquin would come in here so they could share some warm words and a few drinks together.]

Yes, because we are very responsible and mature men. [That might be a little bit of sarcasm in his voice, but he's still smiling as he pours Joaquin some of the drink and hands it over. Then he makes a glass for himself, and holds it out for a toast.]

To the Remembered.

[medalsome]

[Joaquin held a hand up.]

Hey, I've been drinking wine since I was like, twelve! I know how to handle alcohol.

[... Okay so maybe it was like, one small glass of wine at dinner with Posada during special occasions. BUT STILL!

He takes the glass offered to him and takes a whiff of the smokey scent. It smelled of home. He raises his glass, hesitating just a moment before clinking it against Manolo's and drinking it down.

Wow. That burn... it was delicious.]

[matadorable]

[He takes a sip of his own mezcal, sighing at the way it warms his throat. The smell always reminds him of his father, and he softly smiles.]

You don't exactly look like a child, though. [His shoulders shake with a small chuckle.] With that mustache, you could probably bluff your way through a liquor store if you felt like it. Then again, you may as well just ask someone to buy some for you if you're gonna go through all that trouble.