Not for the first time, there is a star out during daylight - Lito will never get used to how the other man shines, even when the weather rivals him; Hernando is always light.

“ Hello, baby. ” An endearment accompanied by a wide smile; Lito’s fingers brush against his own watch once Hernando fastens it on, the relief nearly palpable. Filming the rest of his scenes will be easy, now.

“ It is warm, I know - would you prefer my trailer? ” The actor knows very well how much Hernando dislikes true heat – it’s amazing the man has lasted so long, but Lito isn’t complaining on that front. “ You’re squinting. How well can you even see me? ” Free fingers find their way, briefly, to Hernando’s face while the actor laughs; Lito has never been good at pretending not to care for this man, which had always been a part of their secret’s problem. 

“ Come on, querido. Let me get you out of the sun. ”

the pavement seethed with a preternatural sort of warmth that one would more likely associate with the ebbing heat from an open oven, than well worn cement walkways. there was to be no respite from it unless they were to scurry for the creature comforts afforded by air conditioning. he raises no qualms with the suggestion, hardly one to put up a front of defiance when the edges of his collar had taken to dampening considerably from perspiration. linger any longer, and hernando might be led on with the inclination to leave for home altogether. 

“have they filmed your parts yet?” likely not, given the proclivity for his beau to bring production to a standstill when rendered upset by the minutiae of erroneous details; in this case, his watch. as they walk along, he regards the expanse of the studio lot with some faint interest. there’s appreciation for the work that went into the creative process here, regardless of the millions being invested to monetize the art itself. merit pervades in the talent of those who raised grandiose dreams and aspirations into realization. he will not deny the people here of that. 

                There is an almost vibration of excitement thrumming through the actor’s blood by the time his phone pings again; it isn’t often that Hernando gets to visit set, and it’s a visit Lito already knows he will love. Easy steps bring him to his car, and already his fingers are reaching out for the other man’s clothing, burying themselves into the fabric.

“ Baby, you’ll never understand how much I love having you on my set. ” Of course Lito knows there is a reason for it, but the thought of the watch is nearly forgotten (again.)

“ How long can you stay? ”

         mexican heat roasts the uninitiated with searing temperatures that veer high in the direction of the near eighties; hernando can already feel the sweat being squeezed from his very pores when he steps from the still cool bubble of his car’s interior and out into the parking bay. twenty-nine years on, and still, there’s no eluding his feud with local weather. i am not cut out for this, he often tells lito, the sun is merciless. and yet, he endures all the same, eyes squinting to better make out the shapes of people and objects around him under an INTENSE beam of light. turning when his sleeve is tugged against, he manages a tight smile. 

The silk is easy enough to find — Hernando’s gifts always needed to be quickly accessible; the slacks are another matter, and those take a few minutes to find, buried beneath other items he’s preferred. “ You know, querido, ” Lito speaks through a smile, fingers now rifling through several shirts and blazers, “ You know art. And you always speak your mind. And now that we’re already public — ” The actor is free of the closet at last, all chosen articles with him and draped over his shoulders. “ Baby, you see where I am going with this, no? ”

[text; amor de mi vida]: The last time I checked, you liked my sweet tongue.

     Forgetting things had become more and more common, as of late; this was partially Hernando’s doing, distracting him with smiles and smart words and - well. Of course Lito doesn’t really mind. Still, the actor’s wrist does feel naked without his watch, and he does need it for the last scene - it’s already taken too many takes, and the warm-ups, the trills - they aren’t helping. After giving the go-ahead for the scene to be skipped for the moment, for another without him to be filmed instead, he waits by the entrance to set, phone in his hands and the smallest of grins turning his lips.

[text; amor de mi vida]: See you soon, baby.

[text; mi tesoro]: maybe you are being presumptuous. 

         the curve and dip along his spine still bore ample testimony to the truth to what lito had so readily been quick to claim; a litany of bruises, purple and burgundy, speak for a love that veered so often between RUSHED CHAOS of storm waves and the quiet serenity of untroubled summer brooks. yes, yes: he does like that tongue of lito’s, one that spun threads of such immeasurable flattery whenever prompted. he’s at the door in a moment, out of it in the next, with his bag slung over his shoulders. the journey from their doorstep to the lobby of their apartment necessitated no more than five minutes, much of which was spent in an elevator car shared between three other residents; all familiar faces, all media personalities in their own right, whom know each other and hernando by name. 

           the drive over was, as he had hoped, UNEVENTFUL. he’s pulling up to the studio lot just minutes before half-past twelve and parks right alongside lito’s own steed.

“ –– Si. ” The acknowledgement is almost resigned, a sigh blown out through pursed lips. “ –– but you could do more, querido, than critique. If you think I have something better, you know my closet is yours. ”

        “ you all need an art director on set, mierda. your director knows         nothing beyond photographic composition and shot angles. i know         you have better clothes in your walk-in than what they are giving you         on set from the wardrobe department. i BOUGHT THEM for you.

“ But I have to wear it Hernando! These - these are the director’s favorite colors. What else am I meant to do? Go dressed in rags? A sack? ”

[text; amor de mi vida]: You.

       Lito is smiling into the phone while he types, the pads of his fingers working fast over the keys.

[text; amor de mi vida]: When should I expect you?

       The majority of his scenes had already been filmed in the months prior, which meant that Lito’s day - aside from the occasional re-shoot of a few minutes - shouldn’t have to go on too much longer. The pull of home is already heavy, even if the working day had just started.

[text; amor de mi vida]: And tonight - can we have elotes?  

he’s finishing his first coffee for the day when his phone chimes again. 

       [text; mi tesoro]: a sweet tongue will get you no where

and he turns to check the time on the face of lito’s lucky companion, eyeing it ever so briefly before slipping it into the void of an empty pocket. an hour to noon; if he leaves the house now, and traffic proves merciful, he could arrive at the studios before lunchtime throngs render the streets at a standstill. he’s counting on his presumptions ringing true. leaving his mug to sit idle, he crosses the kitchen and over to the living room, picking up articles of himself as he goes along (keys, jacket, the keyfob to his car, etc). 

[text; amor de mi vida]: Fuck.

[text; amor de mi vida]: Could you bring it by?

[text; amor de mi vida]: You know I need it for good luck, baby.

first day of principal photography, and already hernando is due to pay his visits on set. he didn’t think it to be this soon where the introductions would be made between him and the cast. but given the circumstances, lito’s lucky totem now ticking by in an open palm, it would seem that there wasn’t much choice in the matter. the latin peoples; they still lay privy to their own beliefs. then again, was hernando any different in his reverence for painted faces and sculpted busts? 

     his thumb moves across in dainty taps, wording out his response on screen.

[text; mi tesoro]: yes, i will bring it over

             “ i was contemplating just walking past and not                 bothering… but i saw some of the artwork in here.                 just had to take a better look. ”

         “ these? “

a step aside, and he reveals the slabs of painted canvass stretched taut over the backing of sturdy wooden frames, well held in place and ready for display.

ugh he is the softest.