* TEQUILA SQUARED.

❛          so——     what charity this time ?          ❜          giddy with anticipation,  the costume he dons is eyecatching at its finest,  colours and blitz and dazzle galore.          he’s nothing if not an asset to amanita’s fund goal,  reeling in donors that previously may not have offered their cash.          ❛         i’m telling you,  i have a good feeling about this run,  this bucket ?          it’s going to be full by the time we’re done.          FULL   !          ❜

❛          that was amazing   !          kala,  what was that ?          how did——          ❜          a flippant wave of his arms gestures at her,  at the aftermath of her ventures,  back to her again,  before hands finally clasp at their perch atop his crown,  shaking his head in weary disbelief.          ❛          what the hell was that ?!          ❜

★   ↷   text posts.   accepting.

❛          ——it does ?          ❜         his voice is thick with remnants of tears and stagnant in the back of his throat,  and he feels pathetic.          it wouldn’t be the first time,  certainly won’t be the last,  but that’s what dani’s here for,  a natural cheerleader for a pessimist like lito rodriguez.          as doubtful as he sounds,  her words plant that seed that’s needed,  instilling just enough hope for him to lift the heel of his hand and wipe his eyes with it.

❛          i’m sorry,  daniela,  i’m feeling     …     a bit under the weather today.         ❜         he sniffles,  swallows the lump in his throat and lift his hand to dani’s face,  thumb and index finger finding their brief purchase at her cheek,  a tender second spent there.          if the sun shines differently on him,  it must gleam and dazzle like disco rays when its light reaches her.          but he won’t say that out loud,  because he’s a golden boy through and through.          he will offer a smile though,  shift from his depression corner,  sulk a little less,  and turn off the rom-coms.

he’s wearing them one minute     —     he knows he was,  because his entire world was veiled in a thin gauze of inky black,  a commitment he made regardless of inconvenience because they made him look good,  okay ?     —     and they’re abruptly plucked off the next,  a scurrying at his back and a sleight of hand trick before they’re     …     gone.

❛          what——     ?!          ❜          his exclamation loud,  he turns on his heel,  hands thrown into the hair and ready to     —     well,  do something that’s close to karate,  but probably          (     and unintentionally     )          closer to interpretive dance.          the culprit remains unseen when he looks left,  right,  and only when his head notches an angle downward does he spot the new proud owner of a pair of shiny marc jacobs sunglasses.

❛          you evil,  sneaky,  scheming little,  filthy masked bandit   !          ❜          a crescendo of insults sequences itself as a profane string of pearls unraveling,  each word louder in temperament than the one that had preceded it,  a finger jutting in fire-bellied accusation.          a deep breath,  patience wavering on but one defining factor :   getting those sunglasses back.          but a mere twitch of bushy tail has him flinching preemptively,  as on edge as a goalkeeper,  or maybe more akin to a shepherd trying to round sheep.

his voice softens,  a slow approach made to catch the animal and seize prized possession.          ❛          just     …     hand them over,  okay ?          nice and eeeeaasy now so that nobody-gets-HURT   !          ❜          what follows is a haphazard chase on lito’s behalf,  slow movements rapidly escalated into a lunge,  a stumble,  and an unabashed anger that the rodent had somehow dodged his grasp.          his frustrations are,  of course,  voiced in true lito style.

❛          ——for me ?          ❜          although the press of his palm to his chest and the widening of his eyes would signal disbelief,  he offers little time for a response          (     all too fearful of a late april fool’s,  or an unprecedented change of heart     )          and simply tugs the plate closer with one hand,  cutlery with the other.          the grin that slowly spreads is unabashed,  gaze gleaming and hungry,  palate watering.          ❛          waffles with blueberries and syrup are my favourite.          ❜          or are they riley’s ?          he can never be sure anymore,  traits of his cluster leaking through when he least expects it.

giddy as a child on christmas eve     —     it’s the little things,  isn’t it ?          like when his favourite contestant wins on   La Voz… México,   or when he nails the line for his scene in one take,  or     …     in this case,  when he gets his favourite blueberry and syrup waffles     —     it’s the first mouthful he cuts that he makes the loudest appreciative hum for,  mouth still half full and chewing when he speaks.