Chapter Text
el camelo weakly picks himself up. the cold asphalt beneath his hooves and the black sky above his head make him feel uneasy. he's shivering and tired and his stomach hurts and his head feels like it's spinning and he just wants to go home to the comfort of his metallica posters goddamnit. his...well, he's unsure if he can call them his friends anymore...his unshackled peons he supposes, el horso and el zebro, watch him cautiously.
"...hey," he mumbles.
zebro takes a few steps backwards with his ears pinned down. horso, on the other hand, takes a curious step forward. "hi," horso says. "good to see you're well." he casually kicks some loose pebbles on the road.
"ah, i don't think well is the right word..." camelo chuckles lightly.
"you're better than you were a minute ago. but yeah you're right, you could be better. how about you come chill at my place?"
"that sounds nice..."
el camelo attempts to take a step forward, but his knees give out from underneath himself before he can move an inch. horso runs over to help him back up. camelo feels tears welling up in his eyes -- he tries to hold them back, but he fails and he sobs into horso's fur.
"there, there..." horso says, holding him in a hug. "zebro, would you help me bring him home, please?"
zebro is reluctant, but he silently complies. the two of them walk by camelo's sides, keeping him upright as they travel. camelo stares towards the horizon, at the heavy clouds in the distance. after that, he calms down.
"so, uh..." he tries to strike up a conversation. "...how's life been for you two? ever since...y'know..."
"not the greatest, to say the least. we missed you," horso responds. he remembers something and perks up a bit. "despite your absence we had some fun moments. zebro and i hosted our own green day concert back in march."
"oh, for real? that sounds amazing. i wish i could've been there."
horso sheepishly grins as he remembers a specific piece of promotional material. "yeah, i...also wish you were there." his expression turns bittersweet.
el zebro glances away with a faint sadness in his eyes.
the three arrive at horso's home. it's about the same as camelo remembers, just with a couple of new posters on the wall. he instantly crashes on the couch. he almost can't keep his eyes open.
"i'm gonna get us some blankets and snacks." horso walks away.
zebro keeps a wary eye on el camelo. camelo notices and stares back. an almost palatable tension is in the air.
camelo clears his throat. "sorry for, uh...all of that." his gaze shifts downwards. "um."
zebro is silent. he heads to the kitchen.
camelo puts his head back on the armrest and closes his eyes. he overhears zebro speaking: "why are you doing this? taking care of him, i mean. wasn't he tormenting us just a bit ago?"
"he was a zombie," horso responds, "and now he's not."
"how do you know he's not evil now? this all started with him, and he could be pretending."
"i..." he sighs. "zebro, he's scared and cold and hungry and..." horso opens the microwave and puts a room-temp bowl of chicken noodle soup in. "i'm just trying to be hopeful. this is our friend we're talking about--."
"i don't know if that's really our friend anymore," zebro interrupts.
a deafening silence lingers until the microwave beeps.
horso returns with a mountain of blankets, snacks, and a bowl of soup. he puts the soup down on the coffee table and lays a thick blanket over el camelo.
"here you go." he smiles warmly. "now, how about some jackass 3d, just like old times?"
camelo looks at the soup, then at horso. he feels tears of joy creeping unto his eyes. "that sounds great." he sniffles. "sorry, i'm just...really grateful."
horso sits on the couch next to camelo. he grabs the remote and turns on jackass 3d.
after a few minutes, zebro returns to the living room. he stands to the side and watches the movie.
"hi, come sit with us!", horso says.
zebro glares at the two. "no thanks, i'm fine here."
"alright, suit yourself." horso grabs a bag of cheetos and opens it. he eats a few before offering it to camelo. "you want some?"
camelo nods and takes a small handful. (or is it hoof-ful? who knows.) he bites one and feels a pain in his jaw. "ow, what the fuck?", he whispers to himself.
horso looks over, worried. "are you okay, camelo?"
"yeah, yeah, just..." camelo trails off. he gives the bag back and eats his soup.
they stay silent and watch the movie together. camelo rests his head back down on the armrest of the couch and recloses his eyes. he's completely exhausted after whatever happened today. he can barely wrap his head around it all...it just blends together into a vague, dreadful idea of what occured. probably a symptom of sleep deprivation: he should catch some z's.
eventually, zebro says, "i need to go." before another word can be spoken, he passes a final chilling glance at camelo and heads home.
"is...is he alright?", camelo asks.
"i don't know," horso responds.
despite everything, there's a sense of security -- an unspoken agreement that it will all end up well in the end.
weezer - "memories" starts playing through the speakers.