Work Text:
Hours into their big celebration, drunk off her ass and feeling quite dizzy, Yelena staggers away from the main party, bringing a bottle of water with her. She needs to sober up.
Ignoring the chaos caused by Dani’s weird fucking rooster stealing things and Dani chasing the weird fucking rooster around in a failed attempt to retrieve the stolen items, Yelena walks up a grassy verge, the noise fading as she moves away from the party. And once she reaches the highest point of the island, she sits down and takes a swig of water.
She loves this place, but just being here reminds her of Gerardo, the memories stinging like open wounds. Yelena sighs, abandoning the water bottle as she flops onto her back. Staring up at the night sky, Yelena thinks about what she told Dani, about how if she was forced to choose whom to save all over again, she would pick Jonrón over Gerardo. And she really would.
But it’s not fair. Why did she only manage to save one of them? Well, she supposes it’s related to why she watched her classmates get shot right in front of her (and, fuck, she can still remember their names and the terror in their eyes as they were executed). People she cares about always die because Yara is ruled by a fascist who hates anyone who opposes his awful actions.
They need to defeat Castillo. Maybe then she’ll finally feel safe to get close to people without fearing their terrible death.
And maybe then, finally, she might have the nerve to tell Jonrón the truth about her brother’s death.
But not now. She can’t.
Instead, Yelena just stares up at the stars, and tries (and fails) to ignore the pit of guilt and grief in her stomach.