#hemelda

Bee’s bdrpwrimo 2020 ∟Day 27 —  Write either a flashback or a flashforward thread with another mun!

@riveraofstorms​

Somewhere in Mexico, six-ish years ago

This club was way too rich for Héctor’s blood. He was used to playing dingy little dive bars (and used to drinking in them too), those hole-in-the-wall type places that, even though they should’ve been closed down by the health inspector years ago, still served some good drinks and gave you a good time. Places where the bodies were crammed in and the drinks sloshed all over the place, as people tried to make room to dance, not... this.

A swanky, upper-class kinda joint that was reserved for businessmen and mid-tier cartel figures, where usually someone plunked away at a piano for hours on end whilst people chatted about stock prices and... well, Héctor didn’t even know. He did know that he had been very, very lucky to land this gig, playing soft, bastardized acoustic covers of old banda songs. It was sort of soul destroying, but the pay was good, and hey — he had free access to the bar.

And the bar was exactly where he was going at the end of his set, his guitar case in hand, a spring in his step. He’d just gotten his envelope full of cash and he was very much looking forward to spending it (though honestly, he would save some of it, he wasn’t that irresponsible — he had a dream to fund, here), though he was more than happy to get a little tipple for the road. He propped the case up against the bar and leaned against it himself, smiling at the cantinero behind the bar. 

“Tequila, por favor.” He said, just as he felt someone step up beside him, waiting for their turn to order. The barman’s gaze flicked over to them, and then flicked back again, doing a double take so comical it made Héctor turn to look, too, only to be met with potentially the most gorgeous woman he’d ever met. 

Skeleton love~

@riveraofstorms

When Héctor saw the sign on Main Street reading Zapatos Rivera he thought, huh. That can’t be a coincidence.

Firstly because Héctor had met a lot of Riveras in his time. The name was not so common as to be everywhere, rare enough that if someone yelled, ey, Rivera! He still turned to look, even if he was on his own, but it was common enough. Common enough for his first thought to be another Rivera, neat! 

And then he focused on the shoe part.

He had only ever known one Rivera who had made shoes.

That had been pretty much all the excuse he’d needed to cross the road, dodging crowds of tourists as he went (he didn’t need to — with no music, it wasn’t like any of them could see him, but he really hated that feeling of having someone walk straight through him. Like someone walking over your grave, sending shivers up your spine… though the less said about graves the better, maybe). He ducked inside the shop, trying and probably failing to make it seem like it was a gust of wind that had just blown it open out of nowhere. He sneaked inside, hiding behind one of the aisles as he looked around.

There was a radio on somewhere towards the front of the store, playing a bouncy pop song. He focused on it, used it to bring himself a little closer; he still couldn’t touch the clothes on the shelves, but he could see his reflection in a mirror set along one wall, so that was good, at least. And it seemed like the shop was empty, so he wouldn’t have terrified some poor anciana looking for a new pair of loafers when he appeared out of thin air. 

Moving towards the front of the store, Héctor looked for signs of life — namely, someone sat behind the counter, or singing along to the radio. He was almost right at the front of the shop when he caught sight of a woman bent over the desk, working on something he couldn’t quite see. Recognition hit him like a freight train — Imelda.

No way. There was no way this was happening. Was that why he was in Swynlake? Was that had brought him here?

After a performance 💜 (dahlias are from Hector :v) Alive modern AU I guess haha