Chapter Text
He didn’t want to be angry.
“ARGH!” Manolo threw his hands into his hair and yelled. “You are ruining my life!”
His father didn't react, his arms were crossed and a smug look had sprawled across his face.
“I am severely disappointed Manolo,” Carlos had an ice-cold tone, his emphasis on severely echoed. His father shook his head, his stone-cold mask starting to crack. “Our whole bloodline should be disappointed!”
Manolo exhaled sharply and stared at his father. The anger in Carlos’s eyes made Manolo’s water, he couldn’t even look at his son now. Manolo bit his tongue hard enough to draw the taste of copper, he wanted to yell and shout, but his mind went blank.
“You have disgraced this family enough, Manolo! Have my teachings taught you nothing at all!?” Carlos shouted, turning his head to the side, finally locking eyes with his boy.
Manolo’s chest felt tight and restricted, his heart thumping at 1,000 miles per hour. He blinked several times, trying to drive the tears from his hazel eyes. Manolo felt numb, his posture stiffening, his hands locking into fists as if he were to fight another bull.
“Who cares what they think!” Manolo barely managed to yell. The tears in his system were cracking his voice; making his words weak and frail, much like how he was feeling currently.
“Don’t be a fool, Manolo,” Carlos sneered, stepping in front of his son, towering over the reckless young man in front of him. “Don’t go down this path.”
“You still have dignity, my boy,” Carlos uttered, he had hesitated, but his face softened, “don’t do this.”
“I Don’t need you—or any DIGNITY!” Manolo shouted, getting in front of his father’s face. “I am happy with the man I’m with!”
“No eres un Sánchez..” Carlos hissed, words stinging Manolo like molten venom. He gave his son a look of disgust, taking a step back.
Manolo felt another fiery ball of anger twist his stomach, numbing the pain for a moment. The guitarist stepped back like his father had, eyes locking with his fathers. Manolo hesitated before he opened his mouth without restraint.
“I’d rather be rotting in the land of the forgotten than to be a Sánchez,” Manolo whispered shakily. The look Carlos gave shook through Manolo, bringing the fear of god into the poor boy along with it.
Manolo took a step forward, making a move to try to grab the bag he’d packed 30 minutes earlier along with his guitar, trapped firmly in Carlos’s hand. Yet Carlos moved quicker than Manolo could comprehend.
Manolo blinked; wicked pain stung his cheek, like he was struck by a bull in one foul swoop.
He blinked, stepping back and touching his cheek, flame burned into his face from the touch.
”Then you will leave behind everything that makes you a Sánchez. Your pride, your family,” Carlos snarled. He dropped Manolo’s guitar in front of him.
If looks could kill, Manolo would’ve met his ancestors ten minutes ago.
“Fine.” Manolo felt a tear roll down his cheek, he leaned down and grabbed his guitar with the speed of light; trying to hide the salty drops suddenly flooding over his face. He flung his guitar around his back, letting the silence comfort him as he’d exit his room.
It hurt like hell. Words can’t describe it.
Manolo sped his pace once he walked past his Grandma, he felt more tears escape his eyes. When he moved faster, all he could see were the pictures on the walls flying past; from generation to generation, this is where it ended.
Where is he?
Joaquín sat on the edge of his bed, messy sheets and the scent of thick aftershave in the air. The blurry memory of Manolo in the ring stained into his head.
This was supposed to be a good day
María had came back to town. Currently there was a party, in honor of María, going on which he was supposed to attend. Yet when Manolo didn't show, Joaquín lost the enthusiasm to stay.
He managed to slip off before anyone saw he’d arrived.
Ever since Joaquín arrived in his quarters, the creeping thought of something terrible happening to Manolo slid its way into the back Joaquín’s mind.
He knew Manolo wouldn’t kill that bull. Manolo couldn’t. That wasn’t who he was.
Manolo explained that he couldn't keep what they had a secret anymore. He had to mention it—maybe to María, but Manolo said he wasn't sure.
Standing back up, Joaquin looked through his veranda’s doors. The sun started to set, making a tinted pink-orange across the clear horizon.
Joaquín sighed, opening his doors and letting the last beam of sunlight enter his room.
He let his shoulders fall, his strong heroic persona dissolving. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Joaquín use his free hand to close the doors.
“Joaquín!”
Joaquín blinked, opening his eyes with a lingering hint of relief and surprise. He knew that voice.
Joaquín rushed onto his vast porch, anticipation crawling up his spine.
“Manolo!” The soldier's lips pulled into a wide smile as he saw the guitarist, he let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding in. “Get up here!”
“How exactly?” Manolo raised a brow, giving a toothy smile
“If you’ve managed to figured out how to make me fall in love with you,” Joaquín smirked. “You could definitely figure out how to get up here.”
Manolo gave a look, his toned face flushing a pink tint. While Joaquín let out a bark of laugher and backed away from his railing, Manolo climbed the street light, being careful so he didn’t slip. The guitarist gasped teetered, but balanced, leaning into Joaquín’s presence as the soldier rested his elbows on the railing, grabbing Manolo’s arm and pulling him onto the porch without much effort.
“Solo puedo decirte que te extraño, mi amor,” Joaquín whispered lightly, grinning as he pulled them both away from the veranda and from wandering eyes, his hand bracing firmly against Manolo’s narrow hip.
“Te quiero demasiado Joaquin..” Manolo whispered back, giving that warm smile that made Joaquín’s heart skip a beat.
The soldier laughed along with Manolo’s short chuckle, welcoming the guitarist instantly in a tight embrace.
The hug broke - just for a second - as Manolo placed a peck on the soldier's lips, stealing Joaquín’s cocky remark from his lips before he managed to say it.
“Someone’s in a good mood,” Joaquín muttered as he grabbed Manolo’s hand.
“Just because I get to see your recklessly handsome face again, mi amor,” Manolo bit back, breaking their eye contact as Joaquín led him inside to his expensively large room.
The soldier’s room was decorated with newspapers and degrees framed on the wall, with something along the lines of ‘hero of San Angel’ aligned with them. A metals here and there, and a few framed pictures of Joaquín kissing babies made Manolo giggle.
Joaquín stopped in the middle of the room, removing his hand from Manolo’s to place it on Manolo’s cheek, gently cupping it.
Joaquín admired his friend's (lover’s) face, savoring every little detail in his head. Manolo placed his hand on Joaquín’s, and a cheeky grin from Joaquín was enough to make the matador laugh.
Holding Manolo close, Joaquín stared into the guitarist's eyes in awe. Manolo looked back after his giggling calmed down. Joaquín noticed a pain in his boy’s eyes, but he held his breath.
“There's. . Something you need to know,” Manolo spoke so softly it practically passed over Joaquín’s hearing. Manolo was never this quiet, for whispers of affection, yes, but Joaquín could sense this wasn’t the time.
Manolo’s smile faded.
Joaquín winced, he sighed moving his hand and pushing a couple of Manolo’s loose hairs behind his ear; But there was a pause. Joaquín squinted, and upon closer inspection, a pinkish-purple bruise laid on Manolo's cheek.
Joaquín’s breath hitched. It was in a shape of a hand, a big one. Manolo’s face faltered after he released what Joaquín just gasped at, he covered Joaquín’s hand with his own and shut his eyes tight.
“Manny–“ fear sparked in Joaquín’s eyes, “What happened?”
Manolo stayed quiet for a few seconds, his thin lips stayed shut before Manolo opened his eyes and spoke
”I—”
Manolo continued,
”I haven’t seen him so—angry,” his voice weakened, he looked away but Joaquín could still see his glossy eyes, “not since my mother..died.”
Joaquín was confused, his eyebrows scrunched; almost like the pieces, he was trying to put together.
Joaquín’s eyebrows shot to his hairline; Manolo’s dad? Carlos? What—WHY?
Pain stabbed through Joaquín’s heart; he knew Manolo’s mom had passed when they were young, how could he still remember?
Manolo hugged Joaquín again, hiding his face in the soldier's chest. Joaquín heard a small noise escape Manolo’s throat; just before he felt his uniform soak up water.
Joaquín closed his eyes, resting his head against Manolo’s. Joaquín’s own eyes started to feel moist and glossy, he felt rage and anger whirl in his stomach. Nobody could make Manolo feel like this without facing the wrath of Joaquín or María, Joaquín felt sick thinking about how someone made Manolo feel anyway similar to the murderer of his mother.
“Prometo que te mantendré segura,” Joaquín said again, “I promise I’ll keep you safe.”
Joaquín pulled away from the hug, Manolo still looking at the floor.
“Hey, look at me,” Joaquín grabbed Manolo’s chin, making Manolo’s face meet his. Joaquín wiped a tear that was running down Manolo’s face, the guitarist huffed from the touch.
“It’s been a long day,” the soldier stared sincerely into Manolo’s eyes. “You can crash here, I don't care.” Joaquín bit his inner cheek realizing that Manolo didn't have any bag’s on him. “None of this was your fault Manolo.”
Manolo seemed to relax at the words but by the look on his face, he was still afraid. He nodded, adjusting his guitar’s grip on his back.
“Make yourself comfortable, I can go get us some plates of food from the party.” Joaquín removed his hand from Manolo’s face, moving around his bed to the door.
Manolo winced at the mention of María’s party, his undershirt’s collar feeling all of a sudden tight.
“Wait a second–” Manolo grabbed Joaquín’s shoulder, “We have to make it up to María...we didn't even show up for the party. I'll come with you, she might still be there.”
Joaquín nodded, he understood where Manolo was going with this; and he was on board.
Joaquín strumbled out of his room, Manolo following closely behind. This brought back memories. The first time when Manolo would start sneaking in to visit Joaquín.
That was the first time he told Manolo about his parents; the truth, not just the cover-up Joaquín always used when someone asked.
When his dad died at the hands of Chakal, his mother Gertrude left San Angel. Leaving Joaquín along with it, the only real parental figure to him was indeed General Posada.
He did live in the Mondragon Mansion for a while, trying to keep everything clean and nice for when his mother would return. But the night she left was the last time he’d ever see her again. That's when General Posada found him. Joaquín held high hopes to see his mom again, but he knew that wouldn't happen.
Manolo placed a hand on Joaquín’s shoulder, snapping him out of thought, “You alright?” Manolo raised a brow.
“Never been better,” Joaquín gave a guaranteed tone, giving Manolo a small smile.
After they made it through the hall, Joaquín rushed down the spiraling stairs in a hurry after smelling the near fresh food.
Two volunteers were sweeping, they didn't bother lifting their heads to see who’d arrive (late).
The party decorations were still up, food was still on the tables. Joaquín spotted a lone churro and made a grab for it, he was about to take a bite but Manolo huffed; something he seemed to do a lot.
Joaquín turned, facing Manolo.
The guitarists face was slightly dropped, his shoulders hunched.
“Manolo,” Joaquín said quietly, he trotted over to the matador. Manolo moved his eyes to look into Joaquín’s.
“We’ll see her, and make sure we make up for lost time,” Joaquín bit his lip once he finished talking, realizing that didn't help at all.
“I know but—this is the first time we see her in years! And we didn't even get to properly greet her, let alone go to the party we were supposed to attend,” Manolo’s voice raised as he emitted, he was angry at himself.
Joaquín opened his mouth but quickly shut it once he glanced over at a volunteer who was staring wickedly at them.
Joaquín exhaled out of his nose, he didn't stop and realize his churro made a slip out of his hand. But he did notice his boyfriend’s face brighten
“Chuy!” Manolo practically shouted, kneeling down so the pig could come close, he held out a hand.
Joaquín blinked, he looking down where Manolo was staring; a little shocked when he saw a pig standing there
the pig, aka Chuy, squealed and slowly moved over to where Manolo kneeled.
Chuy gradually approached Manolo, sniffing at his hand. Chuy made a gurgling sound and sniffed the matador again, Chuy instantly climbed onto Manolo’s lap and rapidly licked his face once he’d remembered exactly who Manolo was.
Joaquín smiled, he chuckled as he saw Manolo’s grin.
“I wondered when you would show,”
Joaquín whipped his head around, making a grab for his sword on instinct.
María moved into the room from the stairs the two men had just come down from, when Joaquín saw María he felt himself loosen up.
Manolo made a sound of surprise mixed with ecstasy after his eyes landed on María,
The women laughed after seeing Manolo and Chuy, she moved downstairs in a hurry once Manolo stood up, she hugged Joaquín and Manolo both in a tight embrace.
She nodded her head at the volunteers; ushering them away.
Once the plebes hurried out of the room, María’s pleased face dropped into one of anger, giving the boys a quick slap on the cheek.
Joaquín and Manolo covered their face where the smack had landed. Manolo winced, touching the now raw place on his cheek (mostly from the area being exposed to a lot of smacking).
His senses flashed with a memory of Carlos, Darkness glinted in Manolo’s eyes from the flashback of his father.
“María—” Manolo made a small noise, he was visibly upset.
Joaquín stood in place hand still over his cheek. “We didn't mean to show up late—” Joaquín was interrupted by María,
“Show up late? You didn't even show!” María sounded frustrated (maybe a bit bitter). She’d glare at Joaquín, her arms crossed.
“María I know we did, I won't deny that,” Manolo said reassuringly, moving forwards slightly, his hands up like he was trying to tame a bull, “we would have shown! We were going to be the first people there even! But something—something bad happened.” Manolo’s eye’s felt watery again, but he didn't mention it.
“What happened?” María’s face softened.
When Manolo looked at Joaquín for reassurance, he was given that exactly.
“My dad—” Manolo’s breath hitched.
María gave him an understanding expression.
“Yeah.. The bullfight. I saw that,” María spoke softly, gazing down.
Joaquín felt relieved, he let a breath out; he saw Manolo doing the same.
“I understand,” María said quietly, she smiled at Manolo and put her hand on his shoulder and he gave her a small smile.
“Yeah so uh—” Joaquín said a little too loudly (breaking the moment into pieces), he looked in a different direction; putting put his hands on his hips awkwardly, “Manolo should.. stay here for a little while,” Joaquín spoke awkwardly, Manolo picked up on what Joaquín was attempting to do.
María raised a brow, nodding slightly in a confused sign of understatement.
“Uhhuh?” María trailed off, she sounded awfully suspicious.
“Well, you know—I can set up a room for him,” María hardly spoke, her head was tilted and she looked at the ground.
“Oh no that won’—” Joaquín’s mouth was covered by Manolo’s hand quickly.
“Yes that will be nice,” Manolo grinned sheepishly, covering where Joaquín had left off
María gave an offended, skeptical look. Something that MAJORLY gave off Are you hiding something from me?
Manolo’s grin somehow enlarged, showing the bottom half of his teeth; his hand moved off Joaquín’s mouth.
Chuy made a small sound, his face contorted enough to look like María’s; Joaquín honestly forgot he was there.
María’s facial expression changed mildly, she nodded María moved past her friends making a way to the doors.
“I’ve planned a few things for us to do tomorrow, I just gotta make a quick run,” María spoke loud enough for the boys to hear, she turned her head and smiled at them both.
Manolo nodded and Joaquín didn't move an inch once María picked up her coat.
María made sure Chuy was near and made her way out the doors, her pig following behind.
Joaquín and Manolo stood in silence for a couple of minutes, confusion had plastered on Manolo’s face.
Joaquín covered his face in his hands and turned over in the opposite direction.
Manolo stared at him, breaking the silence with a laugh, “‘no that won’t be necessary’” Manolo clapped his hands for a comedic effect, “seriously?”
Joaquín turned around, his face was defensive but when he heard Manolo’s laughter it melted into a smile. A small laugh came from Joaquín after he shook his head in defeat.
“Hey listen it was off of the top of my head,” Joaquín joked, his hands moved up in a defensive manner.
Manolo shoulder bumped Joaquín playfully and went back upstairs; while Manolo left, Joaquín plated up some food.
”I’ve never rode an actual horse before,” Manolo spoke softly, his ebrows perked and his head against Joaquín’s pillows. The solider laid above him, his head propped up on an elbow.
“Seriously?” Joaquín mocked Manolo, giving the guitarist a smile.
“What?” Manolo spoke in defense, his face grinned with a hint of mischief, “I imagine it like riding on a bull, but I've never road one of those either.”
“And it's less dangerous,” Joaquín teased, patting Manolo’s chest with his free hand.
Manolo hummed, looking at the ceiling.
“I’d hope so,” Manolo rubbed an eye, a heavy weight on them.
Joaquín moved the plate of small snacks in-between them on the nightstand they'd been eating prior to the conversation on if bulls were safe or not.
Manolo sighed, moving his hand up in the air to look at it.
Joaquín didn’t react, his eyes still glued on Manolo’s face.
Manolo got comfortable enough so it would physically drain Manolo once he had to leave for the guest room. The lousy lamp on Joaquín’s nightstand didn’t help either.
”Do you think..” Manolo spoke slowly, his head moved to Joaquín’s direction faster then his eyes did, even if he were impeccably slow doing it, ”do you think María would care about us? Y’know, us.”
Joaquín blew into his mouth, making it blow like a bubble while he looked away from Manolo.
Joaquín knew he was going to ask something like this, Joaquín’s eyes peeled back onto Manolo’s, locking eyes with the man, “Manolo, she has been our best friend for all of these past years.”
Manolo looked skeptical, but he listened to Joaquín, “do you think she's the type of person to do that?”
Manolo broke eye contact with Joaquín, staring back at the ceiling.
“No, of course not,” Manolo said soundly, his body relaxed.
“Good,” Joaquín exhaled, grabbing Manolo and pulling him up to lay next to him. Manolo squirmed, but his body stopped moving after Joaquín placed a kiss on his forehead; his mustache tickling Manolo, “now stop moving, you wouldn't want to ruin that nice hair of yours.”
Manolo laughed, moving his arm around Joaquín’s neck.
They laid there in silence, Manolo closed his eyes while Joaquín studied his face, not in a creepy way; one of the ways Joaquín shows his affection.
Manolo sighed, scooting up comfortably into Joaquín’s chest, nuzzling his nose into the soldier's neck.
“Don’t fall asleep on me,” Joaquín grumbled, Manolo smiled and moved his hand up Joaquín’s shirt, the solider squealed and shivered from Manolo’s cold hand.
Joaquín instinctively squeezed the back of Manolo’s neck, making the matador yelp and squirm.
”Okay, OKAY I GIVE UP!” Manolo yelled, moving his hand out of Joaquín’s shirt, his head leaned back in an attempt to get Joaquín’s fingers off.
Joaquín laughed and let go, once his grip on Manolo left, Manolo punched Joaquín in the chest playfully.
Manolo sat there in awe, letting out a late laugh before he pulled away from Joaquín, realizing he had to leave before María came back.
Manolo stood up off if the bed,Joaquín moved from of his side and onto the pillows. He watched Manolo grab his jacket and head to the door.
Manolo looked back to Joaquín, “Good night, soldado.”
Joaquín smiled, “good night mi amor,” Joaquín spoke softly, watching Manolo sneak out of the door.
Joaquín moved his eyes away from Manolo and starred at the ceiling, the click of the door gave him a moment to realize how lonely he was again.
Joaquín sat up and shouldered off his bandoliers and jacket, tossing it away for the morning with a thunk. He sat on the side of the bed and toed off his boots, taking off the uncomfortable parts of his uniform.
Laying back on the bed, he lifted a arm into the air, just like Manolo had. He inflated, dropping his arm, leaning over to his lamp and shutting it off.
The darkness made no difference when Joaquín’s eyes shut.
‘good night, soldado,’ echoed in his brain, but when the heavy weight of sleep draped across his shoulders, he felt the echo of Manolo pass and the drift of sleep replace it.
The sound of footsteps woke Joaquín awake.
Joaquín groaned, covering his face with his hands. He stretched, a bed mark bruised on his arm and face.
Sitting up, Joaquín moved his sheets out of the way and pushed off of his mattress, stumbling his way into the bathroom.
Joaquín made quick work of brushing his teeth, making sure his hair looked good (plus mustache and goatee), and getting on his overly dressed uniform.
After Joaquín gave a quick look over in the mirror, he clicked his tongue and made his way to the door, but stopped. Manolo left his guitar in Joaquíns room; the soldier grabbed it, making a quick comment about how Manolo seems to leave a lot of things behind.
Joaquín grabbed his sombrero, letting it hand from his neck. He pushed his door open and made his way to the guest room where Manolo stayed.
knock knock,
Joaquín waited a few seconds before Manolo opened the door smiling at him.
“Morning beautiful, think you left something in my room,” Joaquín teased, handing Manolo his guitar.
“Was wondering where that went,” Manolo smiled, grabbing it and tossing it over his shoulder.
Joaquín stepped aside while Manolo left the room and walked with Joaquín down the hallway,
María popped out of nowhere, giving Joaquín and Manolo a scare,
She laughed, walking behind the boys closely.
“You really bring that guitar everywhere huh?” María commented; Chuy gave an oink of agreement, earning a giggle from Joaquín and an offended gasp from Manolo.
“Not everywhere,” Manolo snickered turning his head back at Maria.
Joaquín bumped shoulders with Manolo and added, “sure, Manolo sure.”
“Didn’t think we’d be walking alongside each other like this again,” María lightheartedly commented.
“Definitely won't be the last,” Manolo smiled, moving downstairs with the others for breakfast.
Manolo had only halfway made it down the stairs when he saw the breakfast sitting on the table, his mouth watered when he saw the golden brown toast with a side of egg.
But the breakfast wasn't the only thing Manolo saw what was sitting there.
General Posada sat at the far end of the table, a mean look in his eyes.
With Carlos standing just behind him.