Chapter Text
At the age of 20, Juana was everything Andrés would hope for.
She has her own house with big backyard perfect for Sergio to practice his poor skills at football and for him to work on his painting. She had enough money for Sergio's medicine and his expensive taste in art supplies and clothes. She was beautiful.
And most importantly, she loved him and she loved Sergio like her own child.
Andrés was happy with this concept of love. Where he could take care of his hermanito,didn't have to worry about rent, his art supplies or his clothes, didn't have to debate with himself if leaving his father because he raised his hand on Sergio good choice.
Andrés was happy.
He was.
Untill he decided to draw Juana.
Listening to Sergio about his science fair, nodding in between, she looked beautiful. And Andrés being Andrés penned down the picture with absolute precision.
That was his favourite. Her hand barely touching Sergio's hair, another hand holding spatula. Open book on Sergio's hand which he didn't bothered much and a dopey smile in his face.
His family.
His happy family.
Untill
"Señor. Señor."Andrés didn't give mind to the calling never being called so. He was busy trying to make sure which blue paint would match the one at home. Giving up the task, he decided to take all the blue ones.
"Señor."He finally turned his gaze from the glass towards the person kid tugging his sleeve.
With chestnut like mopey hair, bright blue eyes and earnest expression, Andrés fingers tingled to draw him.
"Sí." He muttered eyes glued to the baby face trying to capture all the details.
"Your picture." Ignoring his weird accent he moved his eyes along with his stretched hand, holding a paper.
"Õh."First he checked his back pocket where the picture of his family was. His Juana and his Sergio.
Gracias." He muttered once again admiring his family picture.
"Is it your mother's picture?" The kid commented.
Some women came and held the boy. Muttering something to him, something to the kid before pulling him away, but his eyes were glued to the picture.
To Juana's face.
Andrés had always been observant.
He knew his mother was cheating on his father before him. He saw her soft smiles. He saw her making sure she looked fine before leaving the home. He saw her taking bath before his father would come home.
He knew his mother was dying before the doctor announced. She couldn't hold Sergio in her arms with the shaking, with her losing her control. She couldn't mutter his name lovingly like she did even after his parent's separation.
He knew his father hated Sergio the first time he took him home. His eyes filled with rage. His face reflecting his disgust. His posture rigid.
And he knew Juana was older than him. 15 years to be precise.
His eyes focused on the some pencil storks near her lips showing her wrinkles instead of her soft smile.
Her eyes which were filled with love for Sergio showed her fatigue.
Her mature dressing sense which intrigued him looked similar to his mother's style.
The scene between her and Sergio which he adored as his family reminded him of the one with him and his mother.
With burning rage he tore the picture in multiple pieces and threw them on the floor. His eyes searched the kid to give his piece of mind but he couldn't find him on the crowd.
Later that night he asked for divorce and her forgiveness with Juana, sobbing on her naked arms. He should be glad as she tried to comfort him but all he could he remember was the boy's words asking if she was his mother.
Juana kissed his forehead softly before muttering a soft okay. Their divorce was done next day only. Andrés and a very confused Sergio moved to a apartment Andres got in the divorce.( Juana was kind like that.)
They lived in it for 2 months before she received the keys of the apartment along with her beautiful portrait and a note which read.
I am sorry. Adiós Juana.
(Andrés held grudge towards the boy for his divorce. For Sergio's sad face.
Years later when he was packing Martín's belonging's, he saw a familiar face in black and white photograph. He tried to remember where he had seen them but he could only remember Martín's eyes.
He was planning to ask him but saw Martín folding his shirts. Even though his tongue was poking out showing his concentration, the shirt looked anything but folded. So he moved towards him trying to teach him how to fold clothes. And also to erase the image his mind provided involving that long pink tongue.)