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Three years. It took Sergio three full years to come and see him. Maybe it was because he was ashamed after all that happened, but that was not likely. The best option was that he decided to hide, just like a rat; after all, that’s what he was. A rat that left his own brother behind just to save his sorry ass.
So when Martín saw the other man at his door, he didn’t know what to say. No, he knew exactly what to say, he’d been thinking about it for a long time. He just never thought the moment when he could say all those things to his face would come. The man that was in front of him now was calm, like he was visiting an old friend. He just let him in because he wanted to yell at him and tell him all the things he needed to say.
The now so called “Profesor” walked inside the room and looked everywhere. The flat was a total mess, just like Martín himself. He didn’t even care at this point, because, why should he? Life lost meaning exactly three years ago. The bottles were around the whole room, on the tables, on the floor, everywhere. At least while he was drunk, he didn’t have to feel a damn thing.
“It was a good heist,” and Martín was saying the truth. Except for the last part. “So good you got the chance to get out alive, right? Not like others.”
His words were bitter, full of hate, pain and anger, all mixed up together. He couldn’t help it, because he deserved to listen every word. Every single one of them.
“It was also hard for me.”
He couldn’t help but laugh at that. Yeah, of course it was. Sitting on a chair is a lot of hard work. The plan was difficult, the heist was one of the greatest in the whole world, but it was because of the people inside that place.
Sergio sighed, knowing well how Martín was going to treat him. He deserved it, both men knew it very well.
“Martín, I didn’t come here to talk about that.”
“Oh, no, of course you didn’t. Let me get this clear,” the smile on his face was too fake. “You come here, three years later, and you expect me to, what? Listen to you?”
El profesor didn’t change the expression on his face, trying not to show anything. And that made him furious. How could this piece of shit not feel anything at all?
“You are here, and he is not. He had to come back, and he didn’t. He trusted you to come back safe. He shouldn’t have left at all.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Martín had asked to Berlin three years ago, just a few days before he left to follow his brother. “What about our plan?”
“Martín, you worry too much! This is gonna be great, and trust me, everyone is going to know about us. Actually, our plan will be even better after this is done.”
Andrés was smiling like he was talking about walking around the park. This was serious, but he seemed to think of himself as immortal. And at that point, even Martín wanted to think that.
But he knew how difficult things could get, and he still worried. He should tell him now. He should tell him that he loved him and that he couldn’t die because he would be lost without him. This was the perfect time, but…
“Just make sure no one shoots you, or I’ll kill you, you hear me?” He said instead.
Berlin just laughed at that, like it was the funniest joke. He would tell him when he gets back. After everything, he would tell him, and they could run to an island to hide. They could live together like they’ve been doing, but he would finally tell him.
“You know I always come back.”
That was the last time he got to hug Andrés, and he didn’t even know it. Maybe if he knew he would have done something else. If he knew he could have just… Done something. He was sure of it, but his chance had left. And it was never coming back, so he just had to live with it.
“You did nothing. You were outside and people died.”
“Listen, there’s always something that can happ…”
“You son of a bitch, don’t you dare. If you wanted to, you would have saved him. You would have blown the whole fucking building just to save his life. You know I would have!”
He yelled and throwed the nearest chair, followed by another, and then a table was kicked. That, he had in common with Andrés. When he got angry, really mad, he lost his temper quick, and he was a hurricane. And he would hit anything near him.
Sergio stayed quiet, knowing well he was right. He could have done a lot of things, but he didn’t. The whole gang needed his help, and if they did something, they would all be in jail. At the moment, it seemed the most logic thing to do.
But if he did, Berlin would still be alive.
“They killed him. You killed him. And I needed him.” Still do. He got closer to Sergio, his eyes fighting back tears. His voice broke, the words cutting his throat like a sharp knife. “He was my other half. I needed him by my side.”
The TV and radio were on all day, waiting for any news about the heist. Martín was so proud of his friend, of how he was dealing with the situation. This was going to go according to the plan, all thanks to Berlin’s leadership. Actually, they were getting out of there now, it was just a matter of hours. And when they were out, he would be the first one waiting for Berlin. Yes, he was going to tell him. He didn’t know how, but he was.
Martín was making a sandwich for lunch, listening to the TV in the background. It was a name that made him stop and go to see what was happening. Andrés de Fonollosa was a common name lately, but this time it sounded different. Wrong. The reporter was talking about the end of the heist, how the police had finally gotten inside, but the whole gang left just in time. Martín sat in front of the TV with a frown, now alert. They escaped? That was awesome, but why mention Andrés in particular?
“Andrés de Fonollosa, known as Berlin, has been shot multiple times while trying to escape. The man had fired the police and they answered firing back. He was found dead before anything could be done.”
The woman kept talking, but Martín couldn’t hear it. Dead. He was dead. His head started to hurt, ears ringing, but this must be a dream. A horrible dream. A nightmare. It was not true. It was all a lie. TV lied all the time, right? That must be, but… It was true.
He was gone. The love of his life, dead.
But he couldn’t, he… He was going to come back. He was. And they would run away and plan their biggest heist. They had all those plans and now… Now he was gone. Tears started to stream down his face as he screamed, a yell that broke his whole heart. He wasn’t going to use it anyways, it died with Andrés.
The months after that were a blur, he wasn’t even sure how he was still alive. The alcohol kind of helped. But he knew he was now just a walking corpse, empty inside. And Sergio saw that too, saw how broken he was, how he was trying to hold back the tears.
“I never thought I’d lost him.”
Martín thought those words came from his mouth, but they didn’t. Sergio was the one talking, and it was like staring at a mirror. He was just as broken, because of course. Of course he was. Berlin was his brother and he lost him, getting shot just like his father did. There were a few seconds where both men just stared at each other. And then they started to cry.
Martín hugged Sergio like he was about to die, clinging to him. “I need him” and “I miss him” were the only sentences he kept repeating while crying, and Sergio hold him tight. He was also crying, but he tried to be stronger and be the support he needed right now.
A few minutes went by and Martín calmed down, sobbing when he pushed back. He cleaned his watery face with the sleeve of his robe and tried to smile, even though it looked sad.
“It wasn’t your fault. It really wasn’t.” His voice was softer now, just a whisper. All that he said before was just to blame someone. He needed to blame someone, but Sergio wasn’t that one.
With a sigh, he walked to the record player. The sad smile was still on his face, but this time the anger was not. He was still hurt, broken, but the anger was totally gone. He just felt so tired. Grabbing a disk, the music started to play, and his smile grew.
Guantanamera, guajira guantanamera
“C’mon Martín, let’s dance.”
Andrés was drunk, it was easy to tell. Tatiana had left the day before, and he spent the whole day alone in his room, probably breaking stuff. However, today he decided that drinking was a way better idea. At least the pain felt numb, and the music helped. The lyrics danced around the room, just like he was doing, swinging around the room with his eyes closed and a lazy smile.
Martín just rolled his eyes, but he was sure of one thing: there was nothing he would deny him. So he ended up walking to him, and Andrés opened his eyes when he heard footsteps. His smile grew wider and grabbed his friend’s hand, his other hand on his waist. Martín just put his free hand on his shoulder, and they started to swing again around the room.
“Yo soy un hombre sincero, de donde crece la palma.”
Andrés sang with his deep voice, the one that made Martín fall in love even more. If that was possible. His smile was still on his face and Martín matched it, because his love was looking right at him while singing, and live could not get better.
“Y antes de morirme quiero, echar mis versos del alma.”
The way he looked at him, it almost made him believe that he could be loved back. That they were both cowards that didn’t dare to take the only step they had left. That small step that kept them miles away.
Guantanamera, guajira guantanamera
The song kept playing on the background, but the world seemed to stop for them. Just for them. They didn’t even notice, but slowly, they stopped swinging. The song also stopped and there was just silence, but Martín could swear that his heart could be heard from another country. Because Andrés was looking at him like he was his world and he only had eyes for him. They seemed to be attracted by gravity, because they got closer, and closer, their faces mere inches apart. His lips were just there, and he thought he saw his friend looking down, dangerously close to his own lips. It would be so easy to just lean a bit and then…
Like in a trance, Andrés blinked, and all the magic was gone, the moment lost. Clearing his throat, he let go of Martín’s hands and took a few steps so there was some distance between them. Distance that looked like an abyss to him. One that, if they had been brave enough, they would have cross it together. But now he was sure it was never going to happen, their moment lost forever.
“Thank you, for everything.”
Andrés was the one to break the silence with those words. Thank you for your help with the plan. Thank you for helping me. Thank you for always been there. Thank you for loving me when nobody else would.
Maybe one day, they would be able to take that step. And he was looking forward to it.
Martín danced around the room like he was alone, which he wasn’t. Sergio looked at him like he was crazy, but there was something soft on his face. He remembered his brother, and maybe both men had more in common than the thought. They both lost someone they loved too much.
“I would love to dance with you, but… I came here to ask you something.”
Martin opened his eyes to look at him, but he didn’t stop dancing. The memory of that night faded away and he offered all his attention to him. It should be something big if he had dared to go to his house.
“I want to do it. For him. I want you to help me to make his plan a reality.”
Oh, that was what he was expecting to hear. A big grin split his face, so big it hurt his face, but who cared. This was going to be the greatest heist and it was all for Andrés.
A love confession, even if it was too late.
But this was for him. And wherever he was now, he was sure that he was smiling.