I Dream of Disney (Volume II)

De la Cruzcito [Coco! Héctor Rivera x Reader] Part III

Part III - Familia: The Broken Vendetta

The Plaza was as humid, soundless and inhumanely bright as the surface of Mars. Uninspired, the wind grated stale air through the bustling crowd as they awaited the next musical performance. They were riled up, fuelled with the ecstasy that only music could bring, and they wanted more. 

And I was standing in front of them. All of them. 

In the blurred sense of things, slowed down by the endlessness of silence, I could see the faces of the tourists that I had escorted that day, their arms wrapped around the native beside them, breathing dense alcohol fumes into their faces as they gestured to me with a slurring chortle, that's my tour guide! Right there! The chica will the guitar? Yes, her! 

In the silence, I can feel all of them as they stare not just at me, but into me. My skin is burning from the intensity of the spotlight, drowning me in a dizzying shade of purple. It feels as if they are ripping away the layers of my skin and stripping me down to the bone until they get exactly what they want: Soul. Emotion. Music. 

There is an urgent whisper from beside me. It's Enzo. He's urging me to start singing, to let my fingers traipse against the chords, hypnotising my audience. I can't. Though I will my fingers to begin, remembering every note that I need to play, my fingers are paralysed. When I try to strum it, it snaps against my finger.

My breath kicks into high gear and I feel like I'm having a panic attack. From far out across the square, in that little upraised platform where my family has gathered, I see them peer out from their camera lenses in confusion. Some of them wave, others smile at me encouragingly. Through it all, my gaze settles on Rafael. In that moment, I know he loves me because there is a cigarette in between his fingers that he's forgotten all about as he gestures our special signal, the mark of the Garrido family, and whispers words that I cannot hear, but which I know.

Seize your moment.

So, I did.

I ran.

The microphone is left abandoned as I shove my way through the crowd of musicians that await their chance in the spotlight. While the crowd's undercurrent of noise is only enhanced, discussing the public humiliation, I pretend not to recognise the sound of my family's disgrace. Hands reach out to restrain me, to push and shove me back into the spotlight and make me dance like a monkey for their enjoyment, but I don't let them. My music is mine - it's private. It's precious.

Enzo steps in front of me, his face red and flushed, "¡Espere!"

"No!" My voice reflects my shame, "I'm not going out there again."

"You have to, hermana," Enzo's eyes are washed out by the shining lights, "Our family has great expectations - "

"This isn't a Charles Dickens novel!" My voice cracks with venom, "I'm out of here."

My brother persists. My reason prompts me to recognise that he's trying to help me, smoothing out the chaos that will erupt from my family if they knew I had no intention of returning to that stage, ruining the sanctity of a tradition that spans decades, but I still shove him away. Overcome with emotion, I push too hard and he stumbles into a set of drums that knocks him off of his feet.

Stalling, my first instinct is to reach for him and make sure that he's OK, but I force down that habit. Pulsating waves of heat are lapping from the varicoloured lights as they sizzle against the walls, throwing bright beams and shadows everywhere. My cheeks burn. People laugh when I dash past them: some find me endearing as they mutter softly to their partners, shaking their heads. Others, people I've known for my entire life, either seem pitiful or mocking. Running, I try to escape them. I don't stop until I break the glitz and anarchy of the siesta scene.