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“Argh!”
Manolo slams his palm against the strings of his guitar, silencing them. It just didn't sound right, the tune was off and none of the lyrics fit. The guitarist groans, tugging at his ebony hair in frustration.
What was wrong with him?
It's been weeks and he still couldn't get out of this rut, but no matter what he tried or did nothing worked. Music was his passion, his whole life, and it was upsetting that he wasn't able to create anything.
Running his fingers across the chords he tries again, drawing inspiration from the memory of his childhood friend. Maria appears behind his closed eyes, her beautiful smile and bell like laughter filling his mind.
His fingers stumble across the strings, throwing the entire song off and causing him to scream into his hands. Dragging his hands down his face he sets his beloved guitar aside, deciding that in his current mood he wasn't going to get anywhere with it.
Manolo sighs, the sound heavy against the night air as he slumps forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his legs hanging off of the side of the pier. His toes skim the water and he watches the ripples in contemplative silence.
Usually just the thought of Maria was enough to give him that creative boost he needed when playing, but lately her memory has become too distant, too hazy to use. It has been years since he's last seen her, they were only kids then and despite him holding her memory close she is still physically absent from his life.
He was lonely and at a lost on what to do.
“Manolo?”
He jumps, nearly falling off the pier. Whipping around, a small smile breaks his solemn expression when he sees you standing not far behind him, your shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
He sighs, the smile still present as he nods towards you, “Ay, Dios mío, you scared me!”
Still giggling, you move to sit next to him, his instrument on his opposite side.
Swinging your legs beside his, you nudge him with your shoulder, an action he returns, “Sorry Manny, I forgot how jumpy you are. Though I would've loved to see you take that dive.”
“Oh haha, very funny,” he scrunches his nose at you, his laughter obviously fake, sending you into another fit of hysterics.
Your laughter brings a grin to his lips, his heart swelling at the teasing smile you send him.
Shifting his weight onto his knees he regards the dancing image of the moon against the water with a calm fascination, his mind more focused on you as he asks, “So, what brings you here at this time of night?”
He sees you lean forward on your hands, eyes cast up at the sky. He tilts his head to better look at you, the furrowing of your brows worrying him, but he waits for you to speak. You take a deep breath, giving him a pointed look as you searched his dark eyes for what could possibly be troubling him so much.
“I could be asking you the same thing. You're never awake this late, what's wrong Manolo?”
He groans, knowing you'd always been able to see right through and that it would be pointless for him to try to lie to you. You've been friends for so long you could read him like a book, a skill he both appreciated and despised.
Burrowing his head in his hands, he gives an exhausted moan, “I haven't been able to play anything in weeks and I don't know what to do. No matter what I try nothing sounds right.”
You hum in thought before finally suggesting, “Well, instead of nothing sounding right maybe it's just nothing feels right. You're an amazing and talented guitarist, so no matter what you play it's going to sound fantastic. The problem you may be having is you don't feel what you're playing.”
Dropping his hands, he takes a moment to absorb what you're saying. It makes sense, but it still didn't explain why he couldn't connect with what he was playing.
“But why can't I feel my songs? It just doesn't make any sense,” Manolo slumps in defeat.
It pains you to see him so distraught, your heart going out to the man you love.
Squeezing his shoulder, hoping to bring him some comfort, you give him an encouraging grin, “Hey now, I'm sure we can figure something out. You're Manolo Sanchez, you can do anything once you set your mind to it! Now the Manny I know would try to approach the situation from a different angle, look at things from a different perspective.”
His face lifts just a bit, your words making his chest flutter. You'd always been there for him, holding his hand as he ranted to you after every bullfighting lesson and listening to every one of his songs. You supported his music and encouraged him to be himself, something no one else in San Angel did. Sure, he knew Maria and Joaquin believed in him, but with Maria still gone and Joaquin off being a hero you were the only one he could rely on.
He could feel himself flush at the idea that struck him, “Actually, I-I wanna try something.”
Grabbing his guitar, he rests it on his thighs once more, straightening his back and giving you a cautiously optimistic smile. Adjusting his fingers over the proper strings, eyes falling shut, he takes a deep breath.
Here goes nothing.
His fingers fall on the first chord and instead of seeing Maria, he sees you.
Lips parted in a cheek splitting grin, laughter bubbling just beneath, and eyes full of love only reserved for him. Your hand intertwined with his as you pull him along, his gaze never leaving yours. He didn't know where you were taking him, but he realized he'd gladly follow that smile anywhere. He felt his heart thump against his rib cage, an emotion he thought he'd only ever feel for Maria swelling up in him.
Applause startled him out of his daze, his hands clenching his guitar close to his rapidly beating heart as he turned to see you positively elated. Feeling you wrap your arms around him in a joyous hug did not help when it came to his erratic heartbeat.
“That was beautiful Manolo!” you spoke against his ear, sending a shiver down his spine.
“Huh?”
Pulling back with a chuckle at his dumbfounded expression, hands still resting on his shoulders, you shake him to try and knock some sense back into him, “That song was amazing! I told you you could do it!”
He actually played something? He must have been so lost in his fantasizing that he didn't notice his fingers moving on their own accord, the beautiful notes to what would surely be a love song filling the silence around them.
“I'm so proud of you Manolo.”
He didn't miss the slight love-sick tone in your voice as you gazed up at him with such adoration it brought a tint to his cheeks and a loving smile to his lips.
“I couldn't have done it without you, mi amor.”
“Well Balbi, looks like neither of us win.”
La Muerte gazes softly down at the young lovers, her candle like eyes admiring what would surely blossom into an everlasting bond. It would be cruel of her to break that bond just to win a simple bet.
Xibalba didn't share the same kind heart as his beloved wife, “Don't be so sure my dear, this just means Maria is guaranteed to marry Joaquin.”
The ruler of the Land of the Remembered glares at her husband, her temper flaring as she gestures at the couple to try and further enunciate her point, “Come on, just look at them! Don't they remind you of us when we first fell in love?”
La Muerte ran her fingers across the dark god's arm, her eyes loving as she recalled her usually vile husband's failed courting attempts.
He just huffed, crossing his arms as he regards the humans below with disgust, “No, they're much too fleshy and mortally.”
She sighs, her chest pressing into his back as she wraps her arms around his neck. Rubbing small circles into his beard she whispers, hoping to persuade her cold lover, “Why don't we just let them live in peace?”
Xibalba tilted his head as if he was contemplating it. While he desperately wants to be ruler of the Land of the Remembered, he couldn't deny the connection the two mortals have.
Oh, but how he loves his games. Smirking at his wife, he chuckles, “Now where's the fun in that?”