#nightmarescapes

Wyatt hadn’t slept well, of course, and his body still ached from the beating it’d taken from those demonic, feathered fuckers. The night with Caleb had been a gentle reminder of all the things they still needed to talk about, and the anxiety that stemmed from having that conversation looming on the horizon had kept him up better than any threats of nightmares could have. Caleb didn’t sleep, just like Mateo, so they’d just spent the night talking about anything other than what had happened, filling the silence between conversations with whatever was on the television. It’d been nice, in its way, even if he was exhausted. And come morning, he’d excused himself to go deal with his disaster of a life — there was no way he was fighting tonight, so he’d need to see if Agnes or someone else could move things around. 

Wandering through the streets of Deersprings and stopping at the first coffee house he passed, Wyatt texted Mateo to let him know where he could find him. He looked tired when the mare arrived, despite the finished coffee he tossed in the garbage bin on the sidewalk before climbing into the passenger’s side seat. Huffing out a weary breath, he leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes, brows furrowed. 

“Fuck,” he muttered for no reason in particular other than how shitty he felt. But he wasn’t the only one feeling like crap, so he did roll his head to the side to look at Mateo, flashing him a brief, weak smile before reaching across the console between them to put a hand on his thigh. “Hey.” He felt compelled to apologize, which was stupid — they’d both gone through last night together, and were both hurting in similar ways. There was nothing to apologize for. So he didn’t, instead just giving the man’s leg a squeeze.“Good to see you.”

—

The old truck's engine rumbled and revved under the pressure of the mare's foot. He could smell the small hint of exhaust while he was stopped at a light. The window was down and he could feel the breeze dance on his skin as his arm dangled out the window. Mateo didn't know what to make of everything, but he at least found some comfort in the way Wyatt squeezed his leg and muttered a reassurance. He needed that more than he'd ever admit, though he was sure they way he slid his hand into Wyatt's said it all. 

“Fuck, indeed. You look like shit.” The mare said blatantly, with a hint of humor in his tone. “Still nice to see you too, though.” He offered a languid smile in return, shifting gears as they went up a small hill. They weren't too far from Mateo's place, but the drive felt much longer than it needed to. All the mare wanted to do was get in bed and forget how pathetic he'd been in the last fourteen hours as he moped around his apartment with Angel pacing right behind him. 

He wasn't sure why he'd been so jealous, why Wyatt wouldn't just let him pick him up or visit. Did that Caleb guy matter more? Was…Ah, shit, Mateo thought. He was being pathetic again. It needed to stop, he knew that. But before he could hold his tongue, he asked, “You dating that Caleb guy?”

—

Scoffing at Mateo’s astute observation, Wyatt closed his eyes again and settled in for the ride. The question that broke the silence was one he should have expected, but it made his throat close up all the same. There was no good reason for it — Mateo knew Wyatt had been at least messing around with people outside of their throuple situation, and had expressed to him that it was fine, and yet… well, maybe it was mostly just the guilt of not having had this conversation with Caleb yet. Caleb never really thought they were dating, but then Wyatt used the b-word. Caleb had said more than once now that he wanted to be in Wyatt’s life, no matter what that looked like, but Wyatt still hadn’t been forthcoming with those details. He wanted to, it just seemed like there was never a good fucking time for it. Which was maybe an excuse, but he knew he had to get it over with. He was just afraid that it would be too much for Caleb, which was why he hadn’t wanted Mateo to pop over with hardly any kind of explanation or formal introduction. 

“I… think so,” he answered honestly. “There’s still a lot of things to talk about, you know? Uh. We didn’t really… start off on the most honest footin’. Met about this time last year. Didn’t tell him ‘bout my night job. Didn’t tell ‘im ‘bout the nightmares, when they started. Separated for a while, when he…” Well, that wasn’t exactly Wyatt’s story to tell, at least not without Caleb’s permission. “Anyway. Weren’t his fault. I went off the deep end, n’ we only just reconnected ‘bout a month ago.” The lamia shifted himself in his seat, lifting his head away from the headrest and staring at the road in front of them. “I care ‘bout him, though. A lot. He’s got baggage, same as you n’ me, but he’s a good person.” Probably too good for me, even with that baggage, Wyatt thought. But he didn’t want to insinuate that Mateo was any different by leaving him out of the statement, so it remained in his head. 

—

Mateo gripped the steering wheel tighter, and he chided himself internally for it. He had no right to be jealous, but there was something that felt uncomfortable about not being told about Caleb. Because it likely meant Wyatt hadn't mentioned Mateo either. The very thought made his stomach sink, and he squeezed the steering wheel even harder. 

Why would Wyatt want to mention the mare anyway? All the money in the world couldn't hide the fact that Mateo wasn't good to keep around. He was a lost cause to a life he wasn't even supposed to be living. He was foolish to think he would ever be worthy of long lasting connections. Xóchitl was the first to realize, and it was only a matter of time before Wyatt did too. Mateo figured it would be in his best interest to just rip off the bandaid sooner rather than later, but he was too selfish and weak to do so. 

“That's…nice. Good for you.” He spoke flatly, a bit dejected but he tried his best to sound a little more himself as he continued. “You just can't help yourself, can you, slut?”

—

Wyatt didn’t miss the tone of Mateo’s voice, or… lack thereof. It made his skin prickle uncomfortably and he shifted in his seat, drawing his arms back to himself to scrub his palms over his face, groaning as he leaned forward in his seat. “No, I can’t,” he answered Mateo, though his own inflection wasn’t quite as carefree as he would’ve liked. “... I don’t know what I’m doin’, man. I feel like I gotta fight fuckin’ tooth and nail to get people to stay. And when things seem good, I… I don’t wanna do nothin’ that’ll disrupt that.” But that wasn’t an excuse, and it didn’t mean he could keep Mateo a secret. Not that he was trying to keep him secret, necessarily, but that was a big conversation, and… “I ain’t good with words, in case you hadn’t noticed. Even worse with… everythin’ else. Actions speak louder, or whatever, and I keep screwin’ the pooch.” And to add injury to insult, the world seemed out to target him specifically. First it was the legs, then the beak, and now the birdlike monsters that had attacked them last night. His greatest fears were manifesting outside his nightmares and trying to rip him apart, and it made him jump at every shadow, tense at every squawk and screech and chirp he heard. It made him worry that he might start seeing his mother next, and if something as innocuous as birds had become such a pain point for him, he couldn’t imagine being confronted with some twisted version of his mother that was trying to rip his throat out. That might send him to a place he wouldn’t be able to come back from. 

“Anyway. Gonna talk to him about it. All of it. All of…” Wyatt gestured at Mateo, keeping his tired eyes facing forward. “Maybe when I ain’t bangin’ down death’s door, though.”

—

Whatever was going through Wyatt's head had to be hard for him, and it wasn't fair to him that Mateo was acting like a clingy asshole. The mare couldn't get people to stay either, but there was a good reason for that. Whatever Mateo wanted in life, when he practiced an ounce of selfishness, it always cost him. Always led to tons of regret and disapproval. Not that Wyatt disapproved, but Mateo had experienced that elsewhere. He could hear his father right then. 

You have responsibilities, Mateo. Family is family. People don't love selfish men. 

Filipe wasn't a selfish man, and look at him. A loving wife and five children that respected him and adored him. Sometimes even feared him. But that was a secret Mateo kept to himself. It felt ridiculous to be scared of a man that he could thrust terror onto, and he wasn't going to subject himself to that sort of joke. He'd had enough of that growing up, but it looked like he was a joke again anyway, and the punchline was his own doing. 

“You're doing fine.” Mateo finally managed to say, only just realizing tears were starting to muddy his vision. He quickly blinked them away, ensuring to keep his gaze forward so Wyatt couldn't see. It was probably time to set the man free from deadweight. Mateo knew that's all he was now. Had been for about five years. “Nothing practice can't help, y'know?” He paused for a moment, adding, “And you don't have to say anything. If you wanna be done, be done. I'd get it. Really.” With a languid shrug, Mateo turned at a corner and watched his apartment building grow closer with each roll of his truck’s tires.

—

Well that wasn’t what he’d been expecting to hear. Wyatt lifted his gaze, sitting up straighter as he stared over at Mateo. Be done? “That’s the last thing I want,” he choked out. “No, Mateo — I’m gonna tell him. And if he doesn’t like it, well, then that’s… that’s it, you know?” The truck rolled to a stop at the curb, and the two men sat quietly while the engine still rumbled and filled the silence between them. Only for a few seconds, though, before Wyatt was speaking again. “I can’t go back to… I’d just hurt him eventually, if he ain’t okay with it. That’s all I been doin’ all my life — hurtin’ people. I can’t do that no more. You… you were the first to…” 

He swallowed hard, dropping his gaze to his lap. “You showed me that it’s okay to be the way that I am. That it can work. That’s… that’s huge. I know it probably don’t seem like much to you, but I…” I might not have been this lonely for this long if I’d known I could just lead with that, and find people who were like me. Like us. “Whatever happens with Xó, or with Caleb, I don’t wanna lose you too. You’re important to me. You matter.” He shook his head, glancing back up at Mateo. “Don’t ask me to be done.”

—

It was all so unexpected, the way Wyatt fought for the man next to him. He'd always been expendable, easily tossed aside if he wasn't any use. On days that he felt too tired to function on the farm, Junior was once again the favorite, or Estela skidded into first, or really any one of the Lara children could steal the spot. It wasn't enough to just be for Mateo or his siblings to be. Work gave him value, and if he couldn't provide that, what use was there for him to be around? What use was there in putting in the effort to love him?

You were born for one thing and if you can't do that, what's the point? You're an asshole and you have no right to be. I gave you this life. I sacrificed to get you here. Where is your effort?

Mateo shut his eyes tightly and clung firmly onto the steering wheel, hoping to hold onto some fragment of composure. Because he never needed anyone to be more than they were. No one ever needed to work for his love. He was dumbfounded to find that someone wanted to provide that for him too. “I…I…” Mateo trailed off with a sniffled, croaking, “I love you the way you are. Don't be done. I need you to not be done.” Keeping his eyes shut, he felt his tears trail down his cheeks, sharp and cold. “It does seem like much to me. It's like…everything to me. You and Xó have been everything to me for a while.”

There was always something ethereal about visiting the astral. One moment at home, and the next, you're some amorphous being in the middle of sparkling night until you conjure the will necessary to become tangible. Mateo always enjoyed that travel, the moments of silence as he hunted for his food, only occasionally being interrupted by a fellow mare. 

It was rare that Mateo ever bothered to exchange pleasantries, mostly offering an acknowledging grunt, but he spotted someone familiar and couldn't help himself. The woman–Leila, he recalled– who had threatened him all those months ago. A smile painted on his face and he slinked his way to her. 

He wondered if he could instigate a petty squabble, hoping to make himself feel just a little better than he had the last few weeks. Maybe it was pathetic and unfair, but breakups sucked. Sue him. “Oh hey, ma.” Mateo greeted Leila with a mischievous smile. “Haven't seen you around here in a while.”

The astral had lost its wonder.

Once, Leila had thought there to be something strangely beautiful about the place between waking and dreaming. One could simply become a part of the universe- a mote of night and stardust that floated through the cosmos. It was quiet, and beautiful, and rare. Rare to be a part of something so vast, rare to be able to see the world as it truly was: a structure of thoughts and memories grafted upon physical constructs. 

It was grief that ripped the wonderment away from the astral. Worry for the living that dimmed the stars, fear of more death that turned the beauty of that other world to ashes. Now it was a place with a purpose: Leila would find the nightmares that happened without the interference of a mare to try to dispel them, and to create nightmares when she absolutely needed- solely for survival, solely on those who caused pain in the waking world. There wasn’t much time for the latter, though. Not between her endless worrying for Metzli, Ariadne, Eleanor, and every other person in the godforsaken town who had wound their way into her heart like ivy. 

She had been scanning the seemingly endless horizon of dark, muted purples and blues, looking for the shimmer of a dream already laced with fear, when she heard an unfortunately familiar voice. Hey, ma. The simple greeting was enough to set her teeth on edge. Of all the mares left in Wicked’s Rest, why did it have to be Mateo to find her in the astral? At best, it was a needlessly irritating interaction. At worst, it reminded the mare of what she lost. Of who she lost. 

Leila didn’t even deign to look in his direction as she spoke. “What do you want, Mateo?”

A knowing smirk weaved its way onto his face, the tinge of irritation in Leila's voice already filling him with a sense of victory. He was only two sentences in, and she was already done with him. It was becoming a common theme in Mateo's life, but at least it came with humor that time around. 

“Bet you react that way to all the cool guys.” He chuckled, sauntering a bit closer. “Didn't really feel like being a blob tonight. How is it my fault that you had the same idea?” Mateo arched a brow, deciding to poke the bear a little further. What was she gonna do anyway? He could dodge away and disappear in an instant before she even fully reacted. The opportunity was staring him in the face, and Mateo was nothing if not impulsive.

“Maybe I should go bug that rock girl again. As a treat.” Not that he'd actually act on it, but Leila didn't have to know that. She just needed to react for his satisfaction. 

It was so strange to feel so hollowed out by a few words. 

Once, the mention of Cass from the other mare’s mouth would have turned her into the monster she was supposed to be, furious in a way she could never get a hold of. Leila would have stood vigil for a lifetime to keep Mateo from lurking in the girl’s dreams. But Cass was gone now. Her little body was buried beneath the dirt in a greedy cave, cased in a tomb of igneous rock and cave formations, too close to the man who had taught her love was something you had to suffer for, that you only but never, ever deserved in return.

His words were an unintentional blow to the gut. The air felt as if it was sucked right out of her lungs. The dark, star-dulled space of the astral felt like it was pressing in on her. As if she, too, should be buried alive. Payment for her failure.

Leila opened her mouth to say something, anything, but none came out. Rather, a low, mournful whimper rose in her chest. 

There was supposed to be anger, explosive and dangerous, and all around too powerful to stand against. Mateo was fully prepared for that outcome, readying his stance to leap back home, but nothing came. Nothing but a pitiful, yet earth-shattering sound. It caught in Leila’s throat like barbs, entangling itself inside with a violent sorrow. 

“Shit.” Mateo hissed, taking a step back. He knew that look too well. “I…” The words wouldn’t come out. He knew he had fucked up. Royally. But it was his mess, and he wasn’t going to just leave it there now. Mateo was many things, but he wasn’t a monster. Not like that anyway. Not when his softer nature tended to make itself known at a time like that.

“I’m sorry. Is she…” Dead? He wanted to ask, but thought better of it. “I’m sorry.” He said again, head falling shamefully. “That wasn’t fair.”

The astral was a strange place to feel like you were falling apart. 

The grief came like a riptide, pulling Leila down into the undertow until down was up and up was down, until there was nothing but the hollow, aching, horrible feeling of guilt without end. Of loss without relief. It wasn’t Mateo’s fault- after all, how could he have known what had become of Cass? But the resulting sorrow did not change. If she were not in that place between the waking and dreaming world, the mare might have curled in on herself, might have sunk to the ground while her heart broke and broke and broke again. But there, in the astral, she simply wished to close her eyes and disappear. If she were some bit of nothing lost in the endless astral, then she couldn’t fail those she loved. If she were nothing, then maybe everything wouldn’t hurt so much. 

The words seemed to come from another, far away world. I’m sorry. A strangled sob wracked her body as the mare tried to keep it all in and tucked away. But Mateo wasn’t someone she needed to stay strong for. So Leila crumbled. “She’s gone…” The words were hardly audible, as if saying them hurt just as much. Not as if. It did hurt just as much. Maybe more. The truth always hurt more…

“She’s dead.”

He could see Nancy and Veronica so clearly in place of Leila. Mothers without children to care for after a horrible tragedy, faces marred with the consequences of another’s actions. It was likely to plant deeply. Rooting itself so far down until its soil festered with the poison of grief, never to host another harvest. Mateo had seen that look before, more than once, and he still faltered in that moment. He still struggled to do more than just stand there dumbly and repeat himself over and over again.

“I’m sorry.”

It was like he was 20 again, attending a funeral for cousins that would always be that age and that he would never see again. Only Mateo didn’t know Cass the same way he knew his relatives. He was just a man that didn’t know how to offer anything more than a few words that wouldn’t bring Leila’s loved one back. She was gone, and she’d stay that way. Mateo wondered how much guilt the other mare had. Not only was she alive, but she would far outlive any life Cass would have had. He couldn’t imagine the pain she must feel as a mother. Parents weren’t supposed to bury their young.

“How long ago was this?”

“August- um… August seventeenth?” She knew the date. It wasn’t a question- it was a fact carved in stone, an end date for a life that should have gone on far after it. But Leila hadn’t really let herself get washed away in the tide of that pain before. For over a month she had forced herself to stay as sturdy as stone. For the sake of Metzli and Ariadne and all others in her life who had loved the girl who was now lost to them, she had remained (as best she could) a shelter. But wind and rain made even the strongest mountains erode away. She had known the cracks were there, but she had not known to the extent they had grown…

She disgusted herself, if she was being truly honest. 

The fact of the matter was that Leila could have done more. Tried more. She could have gone every day to the entrance of the cave and called for Cass. She could have done more than bring comics and food- like those would have done any good in battling the monster of a man who had wormed his way into that girl’s brain. She could have tried harder. It was true! But she had mildly, sheepishly, stupidly done as Cass had requested: she had given her space. She had left her alone. But in doing that, she left the girl alone with the monster that ultimately killed her. She should have done more. 

The man's shoulders slumped down with the weight of Leila's voice. Her wounds were still so fresh, and Mateo came barging in with a grief of his own that was miniscule in comparison. Time would pass and he'd be able to let go, but for Leila, she may very well become a prisoner of her loss, unable to move. Mateo felt horrible for what he'd done, and there wasn't much else to do but sit with her in between her tears. It wasn't like he had any experience with being a parent. Much less one who'd lost their child. 

“Um,” Awkwardly, Mateo stepped a little closer and laid a careful hand on Leila's shoulder. His thumb brushed over it in what he thought to be a soothing pattern, though he guessed he'd find out if it was if Leila didn't react poorly. “I don't know much–well anything at all about this stuff, but…” He shrugged and inhaled deeply, “My cousins lost their boys in a wreck. My cousin–he was a brother to one of them–he, uh, he was driving and they had smoked pot like they usually did together. He lost control of the car.” The memory stung the corner of Mateo's eyes and he sniffled, recalling the moment his cousin Diana called him to tell him the news. It was his birthday, and he had been expecting her to call him to sing as she usually did. 

Obviously, that wasn't the case. 

“He killed his brother and his cousin that night, and nobody blamed him. Maybe at first, when the news struck, but like, it was raining, you know? They hydroplaned and he got seriously hurt too. I don't know…I-I…” Mateo sighed, squeezing Leila's shoulder before retreating his hand. “I guess what I'm trying to say is, if you feel guilty at all, I hope it goes away. ‘Cause I mean, you didn't kill her. You didn't cause it. And if no one can blame my cousin, then I don't think anyone can blame you.”

Some people said that memories were a gift. Others, that the time spent with a person was a treasure once that person had gone. Still others that the one that had been lost would not want those they loved to mourn them. These sentiments were concocted for the living, by the living, when the discomfort grief caused was too much for some to bear. Grief had become a constant, painful companion for Leila, but it was one that she quietly shouldered. It dug its claws and teeth into her, marring every thought of Cass that fluttered through her mind with the reminder that she was dead and gone and buried and would not come home, and that those who loved her were now doomed to an eternity without. But what good would her pain do for those who had, seemingly, suffered more? Metzli and Ariadne, who had been there at the cave and watched it crumble in on the girl, who had lost a daughter and a sister respectively. Van, who she did not know as well, but the mare knew cared deeply for Cass, too. She was responsible for holding herself together and caring for those who survived. She had not been there. It was atonement for her own failure.

It was strange, then, to have a man she hardly knew and (for a time) had greatly disliked because he had fed upon the mind of a girl she considered her own… rest a gentle hand on her shoulder and offer soft words that did not wish to dissipate her pain, but rather to make the pain feel less isolating. He didn’t tell her not to feel guilty. He didn’t tell her not to feel sad. Simply that he hoped the pain eased. 

A breath rattled by tears shook her frame as she looked up at Mateo. “I could have done more,” She should have done more. “She told me to leave her alone, I should have-” The words caught in her throat, a broken silence filling in infinite blanks of the end of that sentence. “How… how are things like us supposed to move on forever when it means losing the people you love?”’

Mateo rolled his shoulders and considered what Leila said for a few beats. Doing more and doing enough weren't exactly the same, but loss had a way of muddling a person's mind too much to think clearly. As a person from the outside, looking in, it was easier for Mateo to come up with an unbiased take. He didn't care enough about Leila to lie. 

"You did what any good parent would do. You listened. You heard what they said and actually listened.” Which was more than what Mateo could say about his own parents. They still wouldn't shut up about his mistakes and how he abandoned the family to pursue selfishness. Not once had they considered that it would make Mateo happy, and they never asked how he felt. In his book, Leila did the right thing, and her only mistake was loving too hard. And that couldn't really be a mistake, could it?

“Death is inevitable, even for us. We just have more chances than others.” Living that long was a terrifying concept when Junior first told Mateo, but the chance to be more intrigued him too much to really think about it. Wyatt and Xóchitl would never live as long as him, but he made his decision and had to live with it. There were things that made it easier, though. Especially when Mateo felt an existential crisis on the horizon. “You go on loving them as hard and long as you can. So when it's their time, they never have to question if they were loved. Seems to me that Cass probably didn't.” 

You go on loving them. 

It seemed so simple an answer. Too simple, perhaps. The tears kept coming with no abandon, finally finding release after keeping them locked inside for someone else’s perceived benefit. You go on loving them. Why wouldn’t she love them? Why would the pain make her stop loving? Leila whimpered, swallowing hard as she tried to collect herself. Loss was inevitable, she realized. The life of a creature who could outrun death was punctuated by the loss of the ones who could not run forever, who would be taken by the hand by death and led somewhere her soul might never see. 

She wasn’t thinking when she reached out for the other mare’s hand. Wasn’t thinking as she squeezed it tight in her own, as if he had become the only life raft she could hold on to. To go on loving was all Leila knew how to do. It was a fatal flaw- she loved and loved and loved, and somehow it never felt like she had done enough. It felt as if she had failed a little, somehow, every day. But to stop loving was to accept failure… Cass had called her her mother in that last letter. Did she know? The mare wondered. Did she know how loved she was, how loved she still was?

The mare was silent for a time, the only sounds escaping her shaky breaths and quiet sobs. Eventually, her shoulders stilled in their heaving, her breathing steadied slightly. Leila lifted her gaze to Mateo. There was still pain there. So much pain. But gratitude as well. A little relief. 

“Thank you…”

Leila's touch came as a surprise, the sensation desperate and full of mourning. It left an icy weight in Mateo, growing heavier with the intensity of her squeeze. As awkward and uncomfortable as he felt though, Mateo didn't let go. He stood there, listening to the way Cass's death echoed in Leila's lungs, and didn't dare move until she was ready. Stable enough to keep from falling apart completely. 

When the storm finally settled, and the havoc met the man's gaze, a little bit of rain of Mateo's own had misted over his expression. He couldn't help it. He never could. His brothers always said he was wuss for always tearing up when his mother did, but he never cared. And he still didn't. Because Mateo never wanted to be a person that believed sympathy to be a weakness. It took a lot of strength to allow someone else's pain to seep into you, even if it was a fraction of the original size. 

“No problem, ma. No problem.” His voice was a soft whisper, only a slight tremble lying beneath it. “Why don't we go get a shake or a drink or something? On me. The least I can do.” Squeezing Leila's hand gently, Mateo offered a warm smile and softly tugged her toward him in an attempt to nudge her into a decision. “I'm not taking no for an answer.”

She hadn’t expected Mateo to care. Frankly, Leila would have thought that after their initial encounter, the other mare would have left her to her tears. It’s probably what she would have deserved, too, for punching him like she had. Not that she would have changed what she did. She would do- would have done- anything for Cass. Which was perhaps what made the pain of her absence all the more potent… Leila had done what Cass wanted her to do, and it didn’t matter in the end because her daughter was still gone. But Mateo stayed. He stayed. He didn’t pull away from her grasp while she fell apart at the seams in a way she hadn’t in months.  

It was a kindness she did not believe she could have ever deserved. 

His voice was soft as he coaxed her away from the place she sat, fixed in her grief. The storm had passed for the moment. A shaky hand smeared away luminescent tears that stubbornly rolled down her cheeks, and a weak, half-hearted laugh barked out of her as Mateo tugged at her arm like an eager child. “Alright… alright. A shake or a drink…” 

A-N-A-are-see-H-Y…!

Mateo bobbed his head along to the music in the background, sprinkling a few pinches of seasoning to the simmering pot. He lowered the heat and watched the bubbles settle before moving his attention to Angel, who was pestering him for some attention. “Oye mamacita, you’re gonna have to go to your room soon.” Angel groaned in response, and Mateo couldn’t help but shake his head with a chuckle. “It’ll be fine. Just a few hours. Besides,” He pointed to the window in the room, “You can literally just go out and have fun.” 

There was a knock at the door and she huffed, her tendrils lightly caressing Mateo before she trudged her way back to her room. He rolled his eyes, though there was no real irritation in his expression. In fact, there was only fondness for the monstrous creature slinking its way into hiding while Mateo bopped his way to answer the door. 

“Hey there, beauti…ful.” He quirked a brow at Wyatt and narrowed his eyes. “You’re not Xóchitl.” He snapped his fingers repeatedly and checked his watch, surprised to see that his girlfriend was running late. “Huh. Time flies, I guess. Well, come on in and have a seat.”

“Very astute of you,” Wyatt laughed, looking down his own front and giving a shrug. “Not since last I checked, anyway. Damn, did I really beat her here?” That was unusual, but then he supposed that her life had been a little unusual lately. To what degree he couldn’t be sure, and not just because she didn’t know how to explain it — his knowledge about things outside of shifters was terribly lacking. “Thanks for the compliment, though. I’ll cherish it always,” the lamia teased further as he followed Mateo back into the home. 

As promised, he was carrying an insulated bag with him, which he set on the counter after joining Mateo in the kitchen. “Ooh, that smells good,” he remarked with a nod toward the stove, unzipping the bag and reaching inside. Out of it, he pulled a baking sheet with wax paper tied down to it by string, and next came a large glass container. Setting the sheet on the counter, he glanced around the space until he located the oven. “Gonna need to borrow that for about fifteen minutes, these fellas are only half baked. This, however, is good to go.” Popping off the top, he revealed the elote salad, which still needed to be dressed with the cotija cheese, but that would come after plating. “Beignets,” he explained, gesturing at the baking sheet. “I’m no baker, really, but I made a practice batch earlier n’ they fucked, so.”

There was an easy grin that tugged on the mare’s cheeks, and he patted Wyatt on the shoulder. “Well, we got a shit ton of food tonight, which Xóchitl will love. I went a little crazy and made frijoles rancheros. A bit of more work to make, but it’s always worth it.” Mateo stirred the pot and removed his gorditas from the oven to make room for Wyatt’s container. After, he quickly turned the music down and eyed the tv, which was also a little too loud for conversation. He almost forgot he was waiting to see his latest job on the screen. 

“Uh, you mind turning down the volume for me? The remote’s right there.” His chin jutted toward it on the counter as he sorted the food on the island. “The oven is all yours now. It’s set at the lowest heat so it’ll just take a sec to get to whatever you put it at.” He drummed his fingers on the countertop and chuckled softly at the elote salad Wyatt had put together. “Man, there’s just something about white people and their ability to make a salad or casserole out of anything.” Mateo raised his hands to gesture there was no hostility toward the idea. “I ain’t complainin’, mind you,” He winked, “It definitely looks like it tastes good.”

Wyatt let out a laugh, somewhat floored by the very accurate observation. “I am but a simple country boy,” he drawled, hand splayed across his chest as the other reached for the remote as requested. “Anyway, she travels better like this! Gimme a break.” Snickering, he lowered the TV volume before setting the remote aside and permitting himself a better look at his company for the evening. Wyatt didn't think that Mateo had any idea he was the alligator he'd met in the woods, but there was only one way to change that. 

“Hey, I got a question for you, before the lady gets here… where's a guy gotta go to get grenades ‘round here? I still got the one you gifted me, ain't found the perfect thing to blow up with it yet, but you awoke somethin’ in me, I think.” He was giving Mateo a knowing smirk, brows raising expectantly as he awaited a response, moving to the oven to adjust the temperature.

Mateo’s brows rose, almost immediately cinching together as Wyatt asked about grenades. He could count on one hand how many people he’d given grenades to. In fact, there was only one person. Felix hadn’t wanted to take the gift, going so far as to not even touch the thing in fear that it would explode right in front of them. That left only the alligator man that had rightfully complimented Mateo’s ass. Unless somehow the mare had forgotten he’d given Wyatt one, and he wouldn’t put it past himself. 

The man had needed a lot of cheering up as of late, and men love explosions, but he would’ve remembered handing over such a powerful item. He decided to pry a little. “Uh…you sure I’m the one who gave that to you?” Mateo wet his lips and leaned on the island, scrubbing his face. “Do you even know how to handle that thing? Do you…” His eyes widened, “Do you have it on you right now?”

Wyatt scoffed, turning away from the oven to look at Mateo. “No, I don't have it on me now. It's safely tucked away at home. Come on… ‘course I'm sure you're the one that gave it to me. How could I forget such a spectacular ass that you made me compliment before you'd help me kill that fuckin’... whatever it was?” He folded his arms across his chest, looking terribly amused by the whole thing.

“Shockin’, I know. How can such a big, beautiful reptile fit into such a… comparatively small, less impressive human body? Easily, it turns out. Learned that trick when I was four or five.” He recalled Mateo having said something about how he wouldn't taste good, which could mean more than just ‘don't eat me please’, but Wyatt wouldn't press it. Yet. “Good thing I didn't eat you… woulda been awkward when I found out you were datin’ my best friend.” He smiled in spite of the grim statement. “Glad for it, even! That's new for me, congrats on breakin’ ground.”

A bewildered but impressed look skidded across Mateo’s features, and he had to stifle a chuckle of disbelief. Wyatt was the reptile that helped him kill the giant Godzilla thing a few weeks ago. They had blown that thing up into smithereens, and Mateo was miffed that he was none the wiser to what Wyatt truly was.

“You…you were that crocodile guy.” It sounded more like a question than a statement, but Mateo’s voice eventually settled into something much more grounded. Which was good because Mateo’s next question was an important one. “Does Xóchitl know?” He blinked several times, continuing to drum go fingers as his eyes grew distant in thought. “She doesn’t know what I am, to be clear. Been trying to find a way to bring it up, but it ain’t easy.”

Las Vegas celebutante found murdered in his home. Details to follow. 

The screen took the mare’s attention for a blink, but he kept the conversation on topic. “Haven’t been this way since I was a kid like you, so it’s been weird. Didn’t even want a relationship, and well,” Clicking his tongue, Mateo idly stirred the salsa he made. “Here we are. At least playing friendly with you is gonna be even easier.”

“Mm… technically yes, but let’s not go callin’ every gecko n’ salamander we see a lizard… follow?” Unlikely. How was anyone supposed to be able to follow his train of thought when he could barely do it himself? “Alligator. And no, she doesn’t.” Wyatt’s gaze jumped after Mateo’s to the TV screen, but he didn’t think much of it. “Ah… right. You mentioned you were undead.” There had been something else, too, but Wyatt was having a hard time remembering it. He closed his eyes for a moment, brows furrowed, trying to recall the brief conversation they’d had after blowing that bitey bastard to bits. “You said somethin’ ‘bout… bein’ nightmarish.” A comment he’d thought nothing of, before, but now…? Now his eyes opened again and he gave Mateo an inquisitive stare.

“Don’t suppose that was literal, was it?” There was a sort of agonized strain in the lamia’s voice that appeared once he realized he was potentially speaking to someone of the same species as his tormentor… and maybe someone that could help.

It was a bit uncomfortable, the way Wyatt’s eyes developed so much emotion in them. Xóchitl had briefly mentioned what was plaguing him, how he needed her in his times of distress. Every small detail was familiar to Mateo, having been through it himself. There was a huge difference, though. While Mateo had asked for it, taking the nightmares as a trial and less as a torment, he knew the implications there’d be when he confirmed what he was. 

That was just a leap he had to take, considering how ingrained Wyatt was to Xóchitl’s past. Mateo just hoped those nasty teeth—alligator teeth— wouldn’t need to immediately find something to chomp.

“Yeah.” He nodded, trying to look indifferent about his answer. More than ever, he wished it was just a bit closer to night so he could vanish into thin air if things went awry, but it appeared luck wasn’t on his side. Swallowing, Mateo figured he’d just have to settle for above average reflexes and the hidden weapons around the apartment. “Died after some…intense night terrors over several weeks, and here I am. Causing them to eat.” He clicked his tongue, “But I sure as hell have never tried anything on you, that’s for sure.”

Wyatt stared at Mateo quietly as he explained. His expression was hard to read, and he almost seemed to be making up his mind about something before saying the first words that came to him, which was unusual. The long pause following Mateo’s admission was both silent and deeply uncomfortable, stretching on and on until the oven beeped to signal that it was pre-heated. Wyatt relaxed his posture with a shrug.

“I figured. We’re good, by the way—I don’t got a problem with you. It’d be too hypocritical for even me to stomach if I gave you grief for that—I eat people. It’s whatever.” He frowned. “I just want to be left alone, is all. It’s fuckin’ me up. Been months of this shit. Can’t even fight right anymore.” He was losing control, yes, but not just of his decision-making abilities—he was starting to lose control of his shifting in general. Sometimes it took longer than he liked to make the shift happen in either direction. Sometimes it was only partial, even when he wanted it full. That was not sustainable, especially not in the Pit. It’d get him fucking killed in the ring. “Guy I know told me about usin’ salt… and somethin’ about a creature called a baku.” He shook his head. “I don’t… wanna do anythin’ that might… linger, you know?” Because I don’t want to accidentally fuck you up, was the part he left unspoken but likely still communicated to the other. “I just need real sleep.” He managed a somber smile, picking up the tray of beignets and sliding them into the oven. “Anyway. Help an idiot set a timer on this thing, would ya? Twelve minutes.” 

Mateo listened, and though he knew that it was likely another mare hurting Wyatt, he had to do something. There was an unspoken rule that you didn’t mess with anyone’s meals, but there was also an unspoken rule that you helped your girlfriend’s friends. Mateo was caught in the middle, and he really didn’t like it. 

“Okay.” He took a breath, taking out his phone and starting a timer to give himself a little more time to think, which was difficult when his latest kill was all over the tv screen. It was Mateo’s favorite pastime to watch as police had nothing on his victims, looking like idiots on the news, but that sadly had to wait. “Salt works, yeah. Put it around your bed. And-and really put it around. If you have it pressed against a wall, pull that shit away from it and make sure you close the circle.” He huffed, “For good measure, get the keyholes on your doors covered. Won’t allow them to get inside for sure.”

Setting his phone aside with the timer going, Mateo approached Wyatt and carefully put his hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. For all intents and purposes, he truly did feel for him. None of his victims asked to be fed on, but the major difference was that he didn’t know them. Mateo knew Wyatt, and he mattered to Xóchitl. That changed everything, which was why it was so easy to make an offer. “Hey,” Mateo’s voice was soft, his eyes matching. “Stay here tonight. Couch is comfy, but, uh…” He chuckled, “Bed is big enough too. I help Xóchitl get a good night’s rest with my nicer talents. Can do the same for you, and no creepies will get in your head when I’m around.”

That made sense, which made Wyatt feel a little stupid for not thinking of it. Of course the wall wouldn't be enough of a barrier for one side—granted he didn't know how mares worked, really… still. He'd be pulling his bed away from the wall as soon as he got home. 

Which… sounded like it might not be tonight. The invitation was a little unexpected, in spite of the light flirting that had occurred online and Xó's assertions that Mateo would be open to that sort of thing. Unexpected, but certainly not unwelcome. Wyatt felt a smile creeping over his lips once more as he glanced at Mateo, not overlooking that gentle tone and expression he wore. “Yeah?” he asked quietly. “I wanna hear more about these nicer talents, but… that sounds great.” And it would certainly be a development he knew Xó would be ecstatic over, eager as she was to convince the two men to get to know each other. 

Waving some spirit fingers toward Wyatt, the mare booped the man’s nose and chuckled with a hint of endearment. “Can’t visit your place with those precautions, but like I said,” Mateo stepped a little closer, a breath away from Wyatt when he added, “Plenty room here.” He smiled, letting his lips brush against Wyatt’s cheek before he moved his attention toward the tv. 

With the reveals and explanations mostly out of the way, Mateo could focus on the jabbering cops and be amused with how clean his getaway was. They were stumped, and they would stay that way. For all intents and purposes, Mateo Lara didn’t exist on any payroll, and any contact information under any false identities he had given were dead ends. Victory was his, and Mateo felt like he couldn’t lose at all that night. Which left him to wonder how much he could win. He grinned, and patted Wyatt’s bum just before he trotted his way to the sofa.

“Why don’t we talk about both our talents over some beer while we wait? Grab two from the fridge and meet me on the couch.”

That was fine… Wyatt didn’t really want anyone over at his cabin right now, anyway. It had seen better days, and he hadn’t had the time or energy to take care of all the shit he’d broken in his nightmare-fueled panics, not now that he was working triple shifts at the Pit. 

A shiver ran up his spine at Mateo’s sudden proximity. If there’d been any shadow of doubt over his interpretation of the mare’s words, he was beyond it now. There was no misinterpreting that, and it was an arena that Wyatt was so well practiced in, he could do it in his sleep. … hah. He immediately felt more comfortable, slipping back into an old, familiar role as he watched Mateo’s attention shift again to the TV. What was that about? Having the news on to listen to stories about a murdered famous person was peculiar, but come to think of it, Mateo still hadn’t answered Wyatt’s question about where to get grenades. Not that he cared about the answer, but still… He gave the other a curious glance, wondering if… nah. That was silly.

Okay, so they were getting familiar quickly. Good. Wyatt preferred quick. He smirked, doing as he was told and getting said beers from the fridge before wandering his way back into the living room. Passing one to Mateo, the fighter sat beside him, draping an arm over the back of the couch behind him. “Talking about them sorta pales in comparison, don’t you think?” He knew Xóchitl would be arriving any moment now, but of course that would do little to deter him, all things considered. Anyway, he wasn’t sure how easily he could get through the shared meal if he was still wondering, and so before either of them could even crack open the drinks, Wyatt buttoned his question with proof of his point and let that free hand find a home on Mateo’s neck, pulling him closer as the shifter stole a hungry kiss. 

“Well if I show you all my tricks, one’d leave you asleep on the couch, and I’m pretty sure you wanna be awake right now.” Mateo laughed a little easier then, taking the beer and tilting it up in a silent thank you. “I’m sure your transformation to that form of yours is pretty dope, though. Is that at will?” He glanced briefly at Wyatt’s hand and arched a brow. “How sharp are those claws?” And how often did he use them? 

The man next to Mateo ate people, and had done so his entire life. Probably. At that point, it was speculation, but given that Wyatt has been whatever he is since he was born, the mare could only put two and two together. Mateo was just grateful that Xóchitl wasn’t on the menu, and likely never would be. She was well taken care of, and that’s all Mateo really wanted. She’d had enough grief as of late, looking like her sanity was on a tightrope most days, and it was thanks to Wyatt that she’d been able to cope. 

So when he pulled the mare in for what felt like a ravenous kiss, Mateo complied easily, with his own type of hunger. A need that had been ingrained in him for as long as he could remember. Because for as evil as Mateo could be, he knew he had to be the one to take on that burden. Being wild and dangerous was fun, sure, but it took a lot out of him most days. It wasn’t easy to watch a man’s life spill from his skull and drip from Mateo’s weapon. That was the price, though. And he’d pay it, gladly, through gritted teeth, every time. 

Especially when he could feel the sighs of relief against his lips. When a body’s tension detached away and sank into him instead. That’s what Mateo sought after for those he cared about, and he could see himself extending that to Wyatt, feeling it as he pulled him onto his lap.

“Yeah, at will.” At least it was supposed to be. It had always been, until after he’d murdered Samir in the ring. “And sharp enough to rip open just about anythin’,” Wyatt explained, more than a hint of pride in his voice. He’d shredded through all sorts of materials with his teeth and claws besides the obvious flesh, muscle, and bone. The design of his lineage was similar to that of the alligators that populated the bayous, but better. Stronger, hardier, more agile… crocodilian in every way that mattered, plus more.

Wyatt was aware of the situation he was getting himself into here, and honestly? It seemed pretty fucking sublime. The cherry on top would be the both of them being able to be honest with Xó about what they were, but that would come with time, he figured. For now he’d rather focus on the rewards to be reaped from fraternizing with both halves of a couple, the promise of attention he’d receive from such an arrangement almost more enticing than whatever magical influence Kieran was able to exert over him. It was neck and neck, really. 

Speaking of necks, his hands braced on either side of Mateo’s, beer abandoned on the coffee table. Those claws they’d been discussing started to make an appearance, thankfully at Wyatt’s behest this time, the tips of his fingers transforming effortlessly into something scaly and green-hued. One hand fell to Mateo’s shoulder, nails digging in gently, only a whisper of a threat that would never be made good, but was instead here for play. He pulled back for a breath, huffing against Mateo’s lips with a grin as he felt the other’s hands grip him tight. “How late you think she’s gonna be, cher?”

The delicacy of the situation wasn’t lost on the mare. He was venturing towards not one, but two relationships, for as long as Mateo could remember, he said he never even wanted that idea near him in the first place. Xóchitl had shown him how wonderful it could be, that the monotony and comfort of a single person could be fulfilling in countless ways, and it had been. Mateo loved it, even. He felt into pace with it easily and found himself happier than he had been in a while. 

But there were countless ways to be happy, weren’t there? No two were ever the same, and more than that, there was more than one way to have a relationship. Or rather, two. Or was it just one if they were all involved with each other? Or…was it? Mateo shook the thoughts away and shifted his focus elsewhere. Like the claws grazing his skin, but never quite digging in. He found that he liked that, and enjoyed more that Wyatt was being mindful of his flesh and of the time, but he was forgetting one thing.

“Late enough, I think.” Mateo chirped with a grin, “But uh…what about those beignets?”

“Fuck. See, this is why I don’t bake,” Wyatt laughed, returning himself to a fully human state as he poked his head up over the back of the couch. Right on cue, the timer on Mateo’s phone went off, and the shifter groaned while grinning. “Alright, okay… just... hold that thought. Hold it.” He pushed himself up and off of Mateo, grabbing the can he’d previously left on the table as he stood to go tend to the dessert and popping it open. He took a few steps toward the kitchen, paused and pointed a finger at Mateo, and raised his eyebrows. “Are you holding it? …. just makin’ sure.” God, it’d been a while since he’d felt comfortable enough to be his more relaxed, playful self. This was good. He didn’t know if it was the promise of a truly safe night of sleep or what, but he felt lighter than he had in months. It was something he hoped he could hold on to for a while. 

A phone call with his mom always ended in one of two ways - she was almost too busy to be checking in and ended the call once she had confirmed her son was alive or, on days like today, she ranted. Finn got to hear about his sister’s trouble in school, his brother’s anxiety, how hard work was at the moment and how worried she was about her eldest living in another town. It was draining to say the least and the reason why those kinds of calls usually ended with Finn flopped on the bed, surrounded by smog and head spinning a little too fast. 

He’d finally resigned himself to a walk when the options had become that or having a small freak out in the apartment. Time passed in a blur, no real mission ahead except maybe finding something to eat at some point. In his easily distracted state, Finn found himself drawn to the sound of music, decent music even, filtering through an open door and muffling as soon as the door closed. Without hesitation he followed the sound, stepping into a store that thankfully wasn’t crowded. It was, however, filled with gorgeous vinyls, posters lining the wall and making this a feast for the eyes as well as the ears. 

Shuffling inside, his fingers traced over every singer and band name he recognized, heart filling with longing even though he had no actual means of playing these beautiful vinyls back in his shitty apartment. The adoration got halted for a moment as Finn was made aware of the sand-like texture in his mouth, backpack thrown off in a less than fluid motion as he began the search for a water bottle that he maybe probably had in there. 

—

The shop had been particularly slow, foot-traffic growing slower by the day as the goo around town made it harder for everyone to travel. Mateo groaned to himself, drumming his fingers on his chest as he leaned back in his chair idly. There were two customers, one older man with his son, nothing to really rush to. The older the customer was, the worse, because they knew exactly what they wanted and had no intention of venturing toward something that could actually enlighten them. 

“Hmm…” Mateo rocked the chair back and forth on the tips of the legs, contemplating whether or not to convince the boy to rebel and request some good music. “Eh…” He shrugged, brows rising at the sound of footsteps entering the store. “Welcome to the Vinyl Countdown, ask for my help if you need it, or don’t.” Propping his head on his palm, Mateo blew air through his lips, making a raspberry sound out of boredom. He scanned the newest customer, watching the other two leave without buying a damn thing. There was a roll of his eyes and he got up to walk around, leaning over the shelf to peer over it.

“Thirsty for some good music?”

The water bottle had finally been dug out, held victoriously in hands that were maybe struggling a little bit to work the cap, when a voice from nowhere startled him. It wasn’t from nowhere, of course, just the other side of the shelf but it was enough for Finn to drop it and then dumbly watch it roll away. “Shitfuck - I mean, yes. Or hi. Or yes to water and music,” he blathered, elegantly stretching his arm out for the rogue bottle, tilting some of the contents of his bag out in the process. 

Crouching down, dropping his bag to the ground before the rest of his belongings littered the floor, Finn stared at them as if wondering what to do other than simply pick them up. Getting up and just leaving did feel like a decent option right now. “This might take a while, can you, like, circle around and come back so I can pretend none of this happened?” he asked, finally looking up at the store clerk from his graceful position on the floor, noting that the guy looked… intimidating. Didn’t feel intimidating though but he didn’t feel like anything, which was to be expected since Finn could barely feel his hands at the moment. 

“You look like you’re supposed to be selling something other than music.” See, this is why we don’t go out amongst people in this state.

Okay, so the dude was jumpy and probably needed a good smoke by the looks of it. That wasn’t to say that his state of being was bad. Just a little ruffled and out of place. “I think I’ll stay right here. Make sure you don’t leave anything behind on the floor I cleaned this morning.” Was it rude to do that? Yes. Did the mare care? Not really. It was fun to be a little rude, and it wasn’t like the customer would die of embarrassment. Well, hopefully not. Mateo had learned Wicked’s Rest was capable of anything, and he really didn’t want to soil any good reputation the shop had accumulated.

Laughing at the remark, Mateo rolled his eyes and looked at himself. He wasn’t sure if he was offended by the comment or not. He needed to talk a little longer to really get a read on the guy. “Is it the battle vest? The tattoos? Or my mug?” He tilted his head back, putting on his best macho vibe. If Mateo had really wanted to, he could probably intimidate the guy, especially with how lost he seemed, but sales needed to be made and punks to be recruited.

“Regardless, I’m here to get music in your hands. I can probably throw a little extra in there, but that depends on your music taste.”

Honestly, fair. Finn probably wouldn’t have left himself alone under normal circumstances so the store clerk had the right idea. “Guess I’m thankful I’m not dragging myself along a dirty floor,” he muttered to himself, finishing the job of finally gathering up his belongings with dark eyes boring down on him. Backpack zipped up safely and thrown over his shoulder, Finn finally got to his stupid feet, bottle of water crinkling in his hand as the guy laughed. Angry? Offended? Amused? Fuck, it was hard to tell. 

Shrinking into himself slightly, Finn still took the question very seriously, eyebrows furrowing in deep thought before two syllables finally made their way out, slow and dragged out. “Haircut,” he decided was an appropriate answer for some reason, one finger wagging in the vague direction of the guy’s head. “Also just the whole ‘fuck everything’ vibe which…” He gave a thumbs up, the gesture genuine even though he probably looked like an idiot. 

The temptation to leave was still rearing its head but it seemed the guy had a sale to make and honestly, wasn’t that the least Finn could do after interrupting the poor man’s whole day and maybe offending him? Uncapping his water and downing more than half of it, Finn finally nodded. “Yeah, yes. Music sounds good. Music taste is… fluid. And I most definitely do not have a vinyl player?”

Yeah, the dude needed to relax, and maybe that was a little Mateo’s fault for several reasons. Most of all, he was doing it on purpose. It was funny, and besides selling a single vinyl so far, that was the most fun Mateo had had all day. He continued his mischievous smile and watched and waited, holding back another chuckle as the gentleman in front of him let his anxiety win over. At least he liked the vibe Mateo was giving off, which meant his opportunity at making a big sale full of the music he adored was broadening. 

“Well I most definitely live by ‘fuck everything’ and ‘fuck authority,’ so I’m glad I give off that energy.” Mateo grinned and as he listened to what his anxious customer liked and lacked as far as music went, an idea began to spark. There was money to burn in his pocket, and if he could push something other than Taylor Swift out and get more people listening to something like Public Enemy. ‘The real shit,’ Mateo calls it. 

“Tell ya what,” The mare bounced his brows playfully and gestured for the young man to follow. “Don’t even worry about the record player. I’ll cut you a deal.” Mateo spoke as he walked the pair to his favorite section and plucked out the album, Black Dots by Bad Brains. He placed it adoringly into the system, moving the tonearm over for the music to burst to life on the speakers. First the gentle static, then the playful bass, and then finally, the drums. Mateo bobbed his head along, smiling. “Now, you won’t be getting a system like this, but the sound will be just as quality. And better yet, this album was peak punk back in the day. Not to mention, they’re a black punk band. They did punk the best, and you can hear the history in the sound.”

Lucky for Finn, it seemed people with anarchist vibes quite enjoyed being called out on said vibes, the shopkeeper grinning wide and maybe only a little bit at the empath’s expense. “You are very on brand, then.” Bullet seemingly dodged, Finn nodded dumbly at the mention of a deal and shuffled along behind the smiling man. Already wondering how many extra jobs he would have to scrape together after inevitably spending money he didn’t have here purely because saying no at this point would be way too awkward. Well, not purely, he did like the idea of listening to music on something other than his laptops tinny sounding speakers. 

Eyes trailed the unassuming looking record cover as it was pulled out, the band name not ringing any bells in particular. It was fitting though - ‘bad brains’ sounded like a good description for a soundtrack to Finn’s life. Sound started to filter through the speakers before Finn could voice that very astute thought to the shopkeeper, head tilting further and further with each introduction of a new instrument. It was loud, brazen - the kind of shit sixteen year old Finn would have loved to blast back at the family house to annoy his mom on one of her ‘more controlling than usual’ days. 

The hand not clutching the water bottle tapped distractedly against his thigh to the chaotic beat, mind jumping from the notes to the words, gaze focused on the spin of the record. Snapping back into his environment as the low voice cut through the music, Finn turned his attention back to the shopkeeper. “I’m not even going to pretend to know the different sorts of punk but… yeah. Hell yeah.” He held out a hand for the vinyl cover, flipping it over to look at the back and huffing out a small laugh at the song titles. “They’re great.” He couldn’t have pretended not to like it even if he’d wanted to, head subconsciously bopping along, small smile curled on his lips as the record rolled into the next song. An even more aggressive guitar strum surrounded the pair, filtering through Finn’s entire body, making him excited to blast these guys in his headphones at a volume that would threaten his hearing permanently.

Victory in sales wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, but it always felt like there was a scale, always on the verge of tipping in any one direction. Mateo often found it shifting in his favor, but nevertheless, it was always a relief to not pivot toward failure. “Now, these guys are from back in the day, ‘bout…seventies. Late seventies, I think.” Holding a finger up to ask for a moment, Mateo sifted through more records, chuckling triumphantly as he found the two other records he was looking for. 

“This album is a little old, but a little more recent, and they released a single two years back. Good shit honestly. Look ‘em up on whatever you listen to music with, but you gotta get this album, too.” He presented Hearts of Hoodlums by Whole Wheat Bread, spinning it between opposite corners. There was just one final album Mateo wanted to find, and it was only a section over. With a smile, he reached over and slid it out of the array of other records, planting it on top of Hearts of Hoodlums. “Teen Mortgage just came out with their self-titled album last month, and it’s bomb as hell. Punk revival at its finest.” 

He puffed his chest victoriously just before removing Black Dots from the player and returning it to its sleeve. When it joined the rest of the pile, Mateo placed them all in Finn’s hands and walked away to retrieve a player he’d refurbished from a storage closet. It was an older Crosley turntable he’d found that only had a few frayed wires and needed a needle replacement. After that, it was good as new, and it even still had the original box, which Mateo presented when he returned. “Thirty bucks and all of this is yours. I fixed up that turntable so it’s no big deal to pay what it was worth before. Just pay for those sweet records and spread the good word of punk.”

Finn let the music bleed into him as the clerk rifled through records, actually appreciative of the fact that there were no outside emotions spoiling the experience. Sure, a thought had passed through the semi functioning portion of his brain that so far, no emotions meant vampires but this was public and in broad daylight. Besides, eating your customers was far from a good business model. 

Nodding along as the clerk’s excitement grew with every pulled record, Finn realized this is what people normally meant when they talked about infectious excitement. The passion held for the music being displayed was hard to ignore and it definitely made the empath curious to listen. A change of pace from making a fool out of himself and applying that the guy looked like he should be a thug for hire, but a good change. Returning the genuine smile that somehow softened the man’s harsh edges, Finn couldn’t even be bothered to worry about how much money he was about to lose. “Look, the only music recs I’ve ever gotten are from my younger sister so I am putting my faith in you completely.”

The records felt nice in his hands - maybe shit like this would make the apartment at least semi less depressing. Speaking of stuff that would liven up the apartment… “Oh, dude. That’s so dope. Pretty sure my dad might have had something similar now that I think about it.” And consequently, Finn made sure to not think about it. Running a hand over the slightly frayed edges of the box, his head whipped up as it came to the payment part of the sale. “Wait, seriously? I mean, I can totally pester people about good music like nobody’s business but… are you sure?” 

Sale tactic or not, this definitely felt like a nice gesture. 

—

When a younger sister was mentioned, Mateo couldn’t help but think of his own back home. How most childhood afternoons were spent picking music and ragging on each other’s tastes. They’d skip songs, yet spend hours dancing or head banging around the room before their parents were home to tell them to turn the “noise” off. Then when it was quiet, they would make mixes, blending the music they were just making fun of because music held value, and the currency changed from person to person. 

To this day, Mateo still held on to a good handful of those old cds, and he softened with a swallow as he thought of those memories, almost thankful for the babbling idiot that was now a bit more composed than before. He chuckled, mostly to himself, but also because it was an appropriate reaction to mask the tenderness he was experiencing. “Ayo, don’t knock her tastes too quickly. Guarantee there’s at least one banger in there.” With a smug but friendly shrug, Mateo patted the records. “But…putting your faith in me is a smart move. C’mere.” He took all the items and led the two to the register, scanning each one as a mixture of reverence and awe washed across the customer’s face. That’s when Mateo knew he’d not only made a sale, but also helped someone truly listen to the message of punk. Passion, freedom, and expression. 

“I’m serious, chico. Like I said, found that thing and fixed it pretty easily. Not losing anything on it, and if it plays these records, that’s all the payment I need.” With a passionate rocker horns gesture, Mateo wrapped the records and placed them on the turntable’s box. “So gimme that thirty bucks and scram to listen to these. Oh, and, uh…” He plucked a logo sticker from the stack and planted it on top of everything. “Don’t forget to come back for another hit.”

It was hard to remember why exactly Finn had been so intimidated by the guy before. Okay, maybe not hard - he was confident and had a buzz cut and maybe looked a tiny bit scary in that way his sister definitely would have fawned over - but definitely silly. Not to say he’d want to pick a fight with the guy but in the setting of discussing music, the clerk was easy to talk to. “If there is, she’s not sharing them with me,” Finn sighed, following obediently to the register and bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

“Right! Yes, payment.” The traitorous bag was pulled off his shoulder, this time with less incident, and the crumpled bills dug out from a zipped pocket. Finn was sure he’d probably been saving that money for something but whatever it was, this literally felt more important. Maybe just a tiny bit because he wanted this guy to like him but mostly because of the music. Bills exchanged for the purchase, Finn scooped the stack into his arms with a smile. “For sure. Next job that doesn’t pay like crap, I’ll swing by straight after. Which, by the way, you ever need a coder for anything, I owe you one.” He raised the new, prized possession in his arms to cement the point before adding, “and also for not kicking me out for being an idiot.”

Ghouls, ghouls, ghouls night out…!

Mateo fell into his bed, arms crossed behind his head, and an expression of euphoric satisfaction plastered across his face. His headphones blared with the last notes of the Misfits distorted guitar. They faded into the next song, and Mateo sucked his teeth, a little miffed at the opportunity he didn’t get to take. 

Too Drunk to Fuck by the Dead Kennedys roared to life, a perfect song for the man he’d been sent to kill. He was way too hammered to fuck anyone, especially the woman that stormed out of his room in disappointment. And then, with great relief to everyone, he was way too hammered to do anything ever again. Mateo chuckled to himself, closing his eyes as he thought about his latest kill. The police would have a field day trying to figure out who killed him. The mare was across the world and the next kill was already on the docket. All he needed to do was wait for the check to clear and he’d move out. 

For now, though? Well, it was time to relax with his eyes closed. Or so Mateo thought. There was a rustling at the end of his bed, and with no pets to account for, he opened his eyes to find a strange girl standing in his room. “What the fuck?!” He bursted out of bed, grabbing the bat next to his bed in preparation. It was more of a warning than anything. It wasn’t like homegirl would be able to take him…right?

“Yo, you got about ten seconds to explain before I start swinging. How’d you get in here?!”

She’d heard that this Mateo wasn’t always so nice. Ariadne didn’t know the specifics or anything, but if he was mean, then maybe, just possibly, she wouldn’t feel quite as awful about feeding from him. Maybe.

Or at least she could try harder to not feel bad, and then be on her way. She didn’t have to focus on it – on him – too much. Go in, get out, and go find Wynne and cuddle against them, maybe. Or maybe she’d just go to her apartment, because explaining what was going on to Wynne wasn’t something Ariadne was sure she could handle, right now.

What she hadn’t expected, though, was for him to be awake. She held up her hands, letting out a small squeak – this was like that doctor lady all over again, except that this time she hadn’t even done anything when he’d woken up, and at least she’d started to cause nightmares for the doctor. “I – I walked in. The door was unlocked!” She had no clue if that was true, but it seemed a good enough bet. She’d learned that more people in this town left their doors unlocked than she ever would’ve thought. “Sorry, I was just – hungry, and I wanted to see if you had any…” she scrunched up her face. “Any… ice cream. ‘Cause I was really craving cookie dough.”

“Are you shitting me right now?” There was a literal child mare in his room, and she was too dumb to even make a good cover story on the fly or cover her glowing red eyes. A laugh almost escaped Mateo, but instead, he groaned when he realized he wasn’t going to get to wack someone. He couldn’t hurt a kid. Not even if they broke into his home.

Well…he could hurt them a little.

Mateo closed the distance and lightly smacked the girl on the head, like any sensible person would do when a child did something stupid. “You do realize I’m a grown man and you’re tiny, right? Pick your battles better.” He huffed as he flashed his own glowing eyes at the girl, throwing the bat aside on his way to the kitchen. Whether or not the girl would follow, Mateo wasn’t sure, but he guessed he’d find out once he reached his freezer.

“I got cookies ‘n cream and cookie dough.” Taking both containers out, he waved them in front of his chest, teasing. “Now, you can have some, but you gotta answer some questions.” Mateo plopped the ice cream onto his dining table and went for two bowls and spoons, sliding them next to the sweets. “You in, or you out?” He took a seat, gesturing to the delicious flavors in front of him. “Personally, I like to mix them together. Put both flavors in the bowl and really go to town. But…” He waved the food off, shrugging. “Guess you won’t know unless ya talk.”

“No?” She looked at him, wide-eyed, and only then realized that his eyes were also red. What a win she’d had here, huh? Maybe somebody had mentioned him being a jerk just because of what he was, and by logic or whatever, that meant she was also a jerk. Even if Ariadne didn’t think she’d ever actually heard anybody call her that. Still, if one mare was a jerk, maybe they all were.

Except she’d never call Leila or Inge that.

“I’m not that tiny. I’m taller than a lot of my friends, actually. My cousin just says I’ve got like, tiny energy or whatever? I don’t know.” She rolled her eyes (for maybe the first time in forever) and turned on her heels to follow him. “Do you like, fake-sleep a lot, then? Because I do, but that’s mostly because I have a partner. I’m sorry I tried to feed on you, though.” Ariadne looked up at him sheepishly. 

“Got chocolate sauce? I’ll answer questions, yeah.” She looked over to him, red eyes wide. “Just – not too personal, please.” Because she didn’t want to talk about what a bad person she was, or about how she’d died in detail. “Do I get to know your name, by the way?”

Mateo couldn’t help the chortle that spilled out of him, and he rolled his eyes to compliment the reaction. “Right, right…” He drawled, waving her off. “I guess? It’s just nice to close my eyes. Sometimes there’s nothing better to do.” Her cousin was definitely right. She had tiny energy. Tinier than most people he’d met. Whether or not he’d be able to tolerate it though, was to be discovered. 

He paused, arching a brow at the mention of a partner. How old was this girl? She looked like a child. “If you pretend a lot for them, then that means they’re probably alive, then?” With a shrug, Mateo nodded and threw open the fridge to retrieve the chocolate sauce the girl requested.

 “Don’t wanna know anything too personal anyway, homie.” He popped open all the containers, getting his own bowl ready to eat. “My name’s Mateo.” The bottle of chocolate sauce clicked closed, the final touches applied. He slid the bottle, along with everything else toward the girl, gesturing for her to make her own bowl too. “What about you? Got a name I get to know?”

“I get that. I wish I could sleep, because sleeping is nice. Was nice, I guess,” Ariadne shook her head. She didn’t know why she was going on about that so much, except she was still startled and surprised enough from finding out that the dude she’d tried to feed from was also a mare that she wasn’t keeping her composure best as she could. Not that she was entirely sure what a good version of keeping her composure would have been, but still.

“Oh, they are very alive yeah. Very much so. Human and alive and the best person I’ve ever ever met.” Ariadne narrowed her eyes. “You better not feed on them, like, ever.” She knew she wasn’t much of a threat at all, but she did also know that she’d do anything that she could in order to make sure that Wynne was never harmed, at least not by a mare, at least not when she could control it.

Well, that was something, at least. He didn’t want to know things that were too personal, and for that she was extremely grateful. “Ariadne.” She responded, “is my name.” She grabbed the chocolate sauce and fixed herself a bowl of ice cream, taking a hefty scoop into her mouth, chewing before she continued. “It’s from a myth, and I – I like it, even though I don’t think I’ve ever met anybody else with the same name as me.”

“Well that can’t be true now.” Mateo grinned confidentially, fingers interlacing as his elbows propped onto the table. “You’ve met me now, so they can’t be the best person.” It was all in jest. Sort of. Mateo’s ego was huge, but he knew better than to let that influence his entire tone. He played it safe and accompanied his statement with a laugh, waving himself off before reassuring his new mare friend. “But don’t worry. Don’t want a mare nipping at my heels while I’m trying to eat, so they’re so safe.” Mateo raised his hand, promising. “Scout’s honor, ma.” He was never a scout, but the sentiment still had to stand. At least, he thought it should. 

“Ariadne.” Not a name he’d heard before, but there was a flair to it that almost felt Latin coming off of his tongue. Had to be a culture that somewhat intersected, but that hardly mattered when they were getting to know each other and Ariadne didn’t exactly know where the name came from. Besides, there was something Mateo was far more interested in. He took a bite of his ice cream, humming at the taste. “How long you been a mare? ‘Cause it sure as hell hasn’t been very long if you’re jumpin’ around like this. And, well…” Another bite, “You got that weird moral compass thing going on.”

 “I – well, I mean, I’ve only just met you.” Her words caught in her throat, “and I – well, I’m their girlfriend and they’re my partner, so… I think they’re always gonna be the best.” Ariadne shook her head, forcing her gaze to anywhere but the other mare. Because she wasn’t sure exactly what to make of him, or what, exactly, he made of her, which was all the more confusing, but not something she could focus on right now. “But you’re very cool. I’ll say that! I just think I have to reserve best for either my best friend or the person I’m in love with.”

She pulled at the strands of her hair a moment, “I’ve – like, not more than a year. Or, a bit more than a year, but not long. Is it really that obvious?” Ariadne took a too-big bite of her ice cream. “Also, wait, what’s wrong with a moral compass? That’s good to have, I thought, right?” Though she wasn’t sure if Celene would’ve agreed, but that wasn’t something she was going to discuss with a stranger. “Also wait, what do you mean, jumping around? How else am I supposed to get places?”

Mateo rolled his eyes, unable to relate to the lovey dovey vibes Ariadne was giving off. It was all too sickly sweet for his liking. “Well I don’t do the whole…” He gestured vaguely to Ariadne with a playful grimace, chuckling as he refocused on his ice cream. “Love…relationship…thing.” Grabbing the chocolate sauce, he dowsed his bowl even further, shrugging with agreement at Ariadne’s correct assessment of who Mateo was. Though he was sure the girl was just being sweet, as she always seemed to be. It wasn’t something he could understand, but as always, to each their own. 

“Moral compass can be fine and all, but having too much of one can make you too vulnerable and naive.” Mateo huffed, taking another bite of his ice cream. “You gotta know when to let go of morals, and trust me, there are times where you gotta. Don’t make you a bad person, but being sweet all the time can be dangerous if you’re in this supernatural world.” Taking a final bite, Mateo slid his bowl off to the side, clasping his hands together on the table. 

“As far as jumping goes, you gotta know where you’re going, or shit like this happens.” Mateo gestured between the pair. “Not everyone is so nice, and not everyone is gonna be a mare like me. ‘Cause, sure, jumping around is how we get to our meals, but without strategizing, you could get fucked, and not—” Mateo stopped himself from being too crude, waving off his words dismissively. “You know. Whatever.” Shrugging, he moved from his seat to place his dirty bowl in the sink for it to soak. “But yeah. That’s what makes it obvious. Lack of planning. I was like that too when I first started, but I’m, like, five years in now.”

“Oh, well, okay. That’s fine! Lots of people don’t, probably, so…” Ariadne wasn’t sure where exactly she was going with that particular train of thought, but Mateo didn’t seem to mind too much, if at all, so maybe this was some sort of blessing of luck to balance out the utter disaster that tonight was, otherwise.

“It’s – it’s not bad. I like having morals.” She was trying her very best not to pout, because that would only make her come off as immature, and she didn’t want anybody – but especially any other mare – to think of her that way. To think of her like a little kid. Because she wasn’t. Even if Ariadne was never going to look like a full-grown adult, she still did want to be treated with respect and not just pushed to the side, or babied.

“I did know where I was going. I heard somebody say you were mean, and I prefer to feed on mean people, and so I came here, and I – we – can’t tell when somebody’s a mare, so I just didn’t know until, well, you know.” She stuffed another spoonful of ice cream in her mouth, chewed, before she rapidly shook her head again. “Not that – I didn’t know you, so that’s not me calling you mean. You seem very nice, actually! So. Yeah.” Ariadne made another face. “Not what? But okay. Well, I – I just go where I think is best. You’ve done this for five years? When does it get easier?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Goody-goody.” He couldn’t help but roll his eyes again, glaring a little at the idea of being seen as nice. “Well, I am mean. I’m just—you’re a mare. Easier to be nice when it’s a peer.” Mateo clicked his tongue and watched with a hint of amusement on his face while Ariadne attempted to explain herself away. She definitely didn’t know what she was doing, and while Mateo wanted to tease her further, it didn’t feel like it’d be much fun. Especially considering she seemed a little more emotional. And young.

“Honestly, chica?” Mateo pursed his lips as he sifted through his memories. He couldn’t think of a specific moment when it all clicked for him, nor could he think of a general moment in time. The last five years had been such a blur. After his first kill, everything fell into place, but with Ariadne’s sense of morality, Mateo doubted she’d have a similar experience. “No idea. I just sorta…happened.” He shrugged and leaned back in his chair, balancing it on just two legs. “Think it’s different for everyone. Obviously. But I think once you settle into your life and don’t even realize time is passing, that’s when you know.”

“I thought peers were like, only people close in age to you? No offense, but you are like a fully adult adult, so I guess I never thought of it that way.” Nonetheless, Ariadne shook her head. “But okay, I’m glad you’re down to be nice to me, I like when people are nice.” She offered a tentative smile because he still seemed impossible to get a read on, even though he couldn’t be that bad given how quickly he’d turned into caring and had offered her ice cream. She still wanted to tread lightly, if only because of her near-perpetual worry that she was seconds away from messing something up big time.

“Oh.” She took another big scoop of ice cream, leaving her bowl nearly all empty, and stuffed it into her mouth to give herself a few moments to think. “Oh. Well, maybe it’ll happen to me. I hope it’ll happen to me sometime, though I dunno when I can expect that, and…” Ariadne bit down on her tongue. “Yeah, that makes sense, but also time does pass, and I guess I’m still super hyper aware of that. Did you – did the mare who made you stick around?” Part of her wanted to know if the whole up and abandon schtick was a typical thing, and she wasn’t sure which answer would disappoint her more.

“Well, I won’t always be nice, so be warned.” He rubbed at his face and chuckled, narrowing his eyes at Ariadne. How could someone be so nice all the time? Mateo didn’t get it, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to at all. While not everyone deserved cruelty all the time, he certainly didn’t believe they deserved kindness all the time either. People were stupid and often indifferent anyway, and that’s how Mateo liked to be most days. Neutrality on humanity saved him a lot of time, and helped him avoid social interactions not unlike the one he was in now. He wished it would end, if only to avoid uncomfortable questions. 

Very much like the one about who changed him. 

“Yeah.” The man swallowed with a twitch of his nose and a clack from his chair meeting the ground again. “He-Yeah. Stuck around.” And I asked him to change me. I asked my own brother to change me and I…Mateo sniffed sharply and drummed his fingers to soothe himself slightly before he snapped at Ariadne. “Think we’re done here, chica.” He chewed at the inside of his lips and drummed faster, his posture stiffening up uncomfortably. Anxiety wasn’t something he was inflicted with enough to know how to handle it correctly, but he knew how to hide his emotions. That was the appropriate thing to do, right?

Thank you, dad. 

“You should go. We’re a few hours from sunrise and I gotta get ready for company.”

“Okay, well, I think being nice is good, but I respect your choices too!” Even if she didn’t understand them, and even if Ariadne found herself grateful that she’d met people like Leila and Inge before Mateo. He wasn’t bad! She absolutely didn’t think that, but he probably wouldn’t have wanted to help her out in the same way that the others had. Which itself had been a saving grace since she’d felt so incredibly lost and adrift.

“That – well, that’s good. You had somebody around. Mine … didn’t. Probably ‘cause she was ashamed of me, but I don’t know for sure.” And she felt her chest tighten at the thought of it, and so even if the snapping did make her jump, Ariadne was also grateful for it. Welcomed it, even in its uncomfortableness.

“Okay, okay – we can go.” She fidgeted slightly. “I mean, I can. Go. I’ll go, unless you want help setting up for your company.” Which Ariadne figured he probably very much did not, but it would’ve been rude not to at least ask, right?

There definitely was no off button for this inherent goodness inside Ariadne. It contradicted everything that Mateo had witnessed and knew of the world. He didn’t understand it, and if the conversation hadn’t veered toward their creator’s, he might’ve asked more about her perspective, or even let her stay to help him clean up what little mess there was. Mentally, he shrugged, and physically, he pushed himself from the table. 

“Don’t want help.” He huffed, scratching at his cheek and moving on as quickly as he could. On instinct, he went to the door to urge Ariadne to go through it, but quickly realized it wasn’t necessary and quickly steered himself back to his bedroom. “Just blip outta here.” For the love of god, please just blip away. Mateo plopped himself into his bed and let his face remain in his pillow for a while. Memories of Junior flooded his mind and he was thankful then that there was no need to breathe as he cried for the first time in months. 

It was a relief in one way, and a deep shame in another, but no one, not even Ariadne, had to know. Out of kindness, she’d blip away. That was the hope at least. And given that Mateo was met with silence for over half an hour, he knew he had been left to his own devices. He was alone and could leave himself buried. 

The stew simmered quietly, the meat sizzling in the neighboring pan as Mateo hummed to the music playing from his speakers. Angel, just a few feet away, lay in her bed, sleeping soundly. Wicked’s Rest had never felt more like home, but the ache and longing for Temple was still persistent. He took a deep breath and exhaled, moving on as quickly as he could to focus on making the red sauce for the stew.

He threw everything in, letting it all mix together with a press of a button to bring the blender to life. A knock at the door took Mateo’s attention for a moment, and he quickly called for his new pet. “Angel, c’mere.” Her tendrils writhed, moving toward him with care. Mateo smiled adoringly, taking a few extra moments with Angel before sending her to her room. He couldn’t exactly let Xóchitl see her, could he? Or anyone, really. Next best thing was giving her her own room so she could sleep soundly with plenty of enrichment to keep her busy.

“Okay…” He trailed off, wiping his hands on his apron before walking to the door and opening it with a grin. “About time you showed up.” A tease, really. Xóchitl was actually on time, but Mateo could never help himself when it came to things like that. “Pozole isn’t done yet, but you can make yourself at home. You know the drill.” Walking away to the stove, Mateo trusted Xóchitl to close the door and get settled in while he finished dinner. It’d become a sort of routine for them, one that made him question a few things, but he wasn’t the type to linger. 

She just wanted to go and get food, and so what if maybe she felt a little safer around Mateo? There wasn’t anything worth analyzing in that, other than the fact that he was fantastic to sleep with, and they’d developed something sort of routine, even, and Xóchitl certainly didn’t need that, but she also wasn’t complaining. Having someone else make her food, especially food that made her think of home, wasn’t bad in any way, shape, or form.

“Well, I’m sorry for the inconvenience, I’ll make it up to you later.” She wrapped her fingers around his shirt, pulling him close before giving him a small bop on the nose, before dropping her hand from his shirt. “I’ve got my shoes off, and I feel plenty comfortable. I could use a drink, though.” Xóchitl hummed, a smirk (that she probably hoped was alluring) crossing over her lips. 

She nodded. “I’m already in something cute,” Xóchitl pressed her tongue against the back of her teeth. “How much longer until it’s ready, do you think? I can be patient, though, it’s well worth it, that much I know.”

“Yeah, you better be sorry, ma. But you’re right. You are already in something cute.” Mateo smirked, confident and playful, enjoying the tease Xóchitl had in return. It was enough to keep himself from recoiling at the intimacy of it all. Hiding behind stolen glances and good old fashioned bullying always made it easier to believe he wasn’t feeling a bit more than just friendship. 

“I’ll get started on that drink. The usual, right?” The mare began a dance he knew well, moving to his bar and pouring everything he needed to make Xóchitl her favorite drink. “We got about another twenty…thirty minutes or so. Plenty of time to just…” Trailing off with a semi-awkward smirk, Mateo looked toward the couch and then back to his bar, pouring himself a whiskey to sip on. “Whatever you want, really.”

“I’d say you’d need to get your eyesight checked if you didn’t already think I was in something cute. Which goes for pretty much whatever I wear…” So maybe she was being a bit too cocky about all of this, but it was easy to relax around Mateo, and Xóchitl wasn’t going to focus too much on that, or whatever that might have implied.

“The usual sounds perfect,” she cooed, just slightly, following his gaze to the couch. “I mean, I do like lying down on the couch…” Xóchitl bit her lip. “But we could do anything you’d like. You are the host, after all, I’m happy to go with the flow.” Which she was, usually, but perhaps, on some level, even more with him, and people like him, because she felt comfortable. “You know if you let me have my way at least some of that time will be spent with my lips on yours.” Flirting was easy and comfortable.

“Whatever.” Mateo rolled his eyes in jest, taking his drink and plopping himself on the sofa with a smile that faded slowly. By the time Xóchitl placed herself in her usual spot, the mare rotated the glass of whiskey in his hands, pondering. There was plenty of time to have a little fun, but for some reason, for the first time in what seemed like…ever, Mateo didn’t feel like moving to his home’s favorite spots. The bedroom, or the couch, or as Xóchitl had said it before, the walls. He, oddly, wanted to talk, but his voice wouldn’t comply. Instead, he sat there quietly, idly rotating his glass for a minute or two before snapping himself back into focus. 

“Sorry, ma.” He cleared his throat and grabbed the remote to flip on the television to keep himself from fully reacting to what Xóchitl had said. It automatically turned to a music channel that was pre-programmed. Much to his relief, the music was something lively and a bit distracting. Though it wasn’t enough to keep Mateo from awkwardly tensing up when he looked back at Xóchitl. She was his friend, and they’d already agreed that developing a crush wasn’t an option. Hooking up only. And the occasional night over with some cooked meals, too. But none of that meant anything to Xóchitl like it did to Mateo, did it? He didn’t think it was possible. It wasn’t. Not for a guy like him. Not when he hadn’t even told her exactly who he was. She only knew a certain version of Mateo. It was him, truly him, but if she knew the rest, would she stay? Not even as a girlfriend, but as a friend at all? He didn’t think so. But that didn’t really stop him from blurting out something stupid, with his voice bordering on soft. 

“I like it when your lips are on mine.”

“I – what?” Xóchitl shook her head, jumping just slightly when he turned on the television and some sort of music came on. It was a welcome distraction from where her thoughts kept wandering, kept her from having to rein them quite as frequently. Because maybe she had said something a step too far, being softer rather than the more usual forwardness. Talking about just lips was romantic, she figured, at least to an extent, and that wasn’t what they were. So the music was great, and she let her thoughts be partially carried off and away.

Except then he was responding, and the music was no longer any sort of a good distraction. “We seem to be in agreement on that.” 

She wasn’t even entirely sure what she was doing, but soon enough she found herself sitting on his lap, straddling him, but in a sort of gentle, soft, and wholly-unlike-the-two-of-them way. “This okay?” Xóchitl asked, suddenly shy, suddenly brushing her nose against his, her lips against his. Soft, in trepidation, at first, before more fully, yet still not with the usual urgency that came along with their meetings.

“Do we have to eat?” She pouted, wide-eyed. “I think I like where I’m sitting right now.” She also liked how soft his gaze was, how he smiled secretly as a new song came on. A smile that wasn’t for show or anything other than appreciation of the music. “But I also like everything you make, so I can be persuaded. Probably.”

“Yeah.” He whispered, “It’s okay. I like it.” I like you. Was what he wanted to say, but he thought better of it knowing his place. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for Xóchitl to find herself on top. She was there so often because that was one of Mateo’s favorite views. But when he looked up like he had done many times before, her eyes were different, and so were his. Then, when she became playful and entirely way too soft for what they were supposed to be, Mateo smiled with a bit of apprehension, unsure whether he should continue to let himself live in the dream. After all, he was, and always would be, a nightmare.

“This is different.” Mateo muttered, ripping off the bandaid and forcing himself awake. “Um…I, uh…” A bewildered sigh escaped him, and it was all he could do to not back out of what needed to be done. “It’s been feeling different—to me. I don’t know. I’m fucking this all up, but if I don’t say nothing, it’s all gonna go to shit even worse so…” With his eyes tightened shut, Mateo leaned his head back onto the headrest of the couch and groaned. He didn’t know how to word it all, or whether or not he should just be blunt. It was the much simpler route, but it was faster, too. Which meant he thought he was on the brink of seeing Xóchitl walk out the door. 

“Sorry.”

“Glad you like it.” She looked down at him, her smile once again far more gentle than the usual sort of look that she gave him. His look almost seemed to match hers, though, which was as equally terrifying as it was charming. Xóchitl enjoyed the feeling that this particular position gave her, and as much as she loved ( – or rather enjoyed – loved seemed too strong of a word) looking up at Mateo, there was a certain feeling of satisfaction that came with sitting in a position of power.

And he had said that he liked women in positions of power, hadn’t he?

“It’s –” her words caught in her throat. “You’re – I – it’s. Yeah.” Xóchitl wasn’t sure what to say, or if Mateo even wanted her to respond, so instead she ran her hands up and under his shirt, pressed her lips against his. “Let me take care of you, alright?” Except that he was apologizing, and she pulled away, pulled up the shoulder of her top, and looked at him in intense confusion. “Why are you sorry?” She did her best to have it not sound overly harsh, or even slightly judgemental, but she wasn’t sure how well she did in succeeding at that. “Do you want me to stop?” Her lips remained centimeters away from his, and she could smell him so easily, and it was such a comforting smell that she nearly winced.

“You don’t have to take care of me.” He shook his head, getting a little distracted by the hands trailing over his skin, and the pressure on his lap. How was he supposed to think in those conditions? Mateo swallowed a groan down and looked to the ceiling to avoid Xóchitl’s gaze a little longer. There was no turning back anymore. He’d begun opening the can of worms, and they were creeping out before the lid was even fully removed. 

“It’s not that, Xó. It’s not…” Mateo absentmindedly traced patterns on Xóchitl’s skin, no real rhyme or reason to the movements. He just liked her warmth and wanted to soak up as much of it as he could before he ruined it all. Because villains didn’t get the girl, did they? Murderers weren’t meant to love without horrible consequences, and Xóchitl didn’t deserve that. Pain was inevitable, a crucial part of life, but Mateo didn’t want to be the cause. He much rather bring out her smile and laughter. That’s what he was after, all that time. He was going to miss seeing it. There was no point in beating around the bush anymore.

“I fucked up.” His entire body tensed, and he rubbed at this scalp a few times as he forced himself to keep going. “I, um…you’re not…” Come on, Mateo, just say it. “I know we weren’t supposed to do more than fuck, but I, uh, yeah. I fucked up.” That was clear, right?

“But I like taking care of people.” She didn’t like that her voice had turned whiny, but she also found herself wholly unable to do just about anything other than whine. His whole body was cold – it always was – but she didn’t mind. She’d never minded – or asked about it, but it wasn’t like his being cold (physically, at least) had any significant effect on their arrangement. 

Except then he was looking away from her and saying other things and those made Xóchitl only want to focus on the physical, because none of what he was saying made any sort of sense given what they were. What they’d explicitly agreed to. Besides, she’d seen how people looked at him in public, and though she was not even the slightest bit in doubt about her good looks (not to the point of self-centeredness, but just a healthy appreciation of reality), but the way people looked at Mateo had a certain sort of hunger to it, and she didn’t want to think that she’d switch him off of wanting to flirt with everyone.

Unless he was like her – though she still didn’t know this for certain, either – and could become infatuated with more than one person at once. It gave Xóchitl a headache, having suddenly gone from actively avoiding friends (to still end up with a few) to having multiple people she cared about, and people who’d gone past just –

Fucking. Yes, that was what they’d agreed to. It was an abrasive word in some ways, but fit. Energetic, thrilling, but then over. Except then she’d started staying over, and she liked his bed, and Xóchitl liked being in a bed with someone else, and … she needed to focus on what he was saying, though her hands hadn’t been able to stop themselves from running along his chest. “How – what – I’m a ditz right now, Mateo, I’m – you’re going to have to clarify, so I don’t run off with some assumption. Some assumption I might think, but it’s –” she pulled her own shirt over her head, and then sat there, frowning for a moment. “I - instinct.” Was all she said.

How much clearer could he get? Albeit, the statement was maybe, purposely, accidentally vague. After all, what was the concept of thinking anyway? “Ma…” He trailed off. Thinking was difficult, near impossible, when pretty, warm hands were dragging across his chest. And it was only going to get worse with Xóchitl sitting there with no shirt on and a pout on her face. Mateo was beginning to lose his nerve. If he had one at all in the first place.

“You ain’t a ditz. I’m just…not being as clear as I should be. I’ve never done this before and-and we agreed, ya know? We agreed to not…do this.” He covered his face with his hands and groaned, leaving a few moments of silence between the pair. When he finally broke it, Mateo returned his gaze to meet Xóchitl’s. He was memorizing her, scanning every feature he could to commit her to memory. Her presence had been a comfort on more than one occasion, and fun in every single one. Sometimes he’d watch her sleep when she talked during a dream, never daring to feed on them. In fact, when she stirred, many times, Mateo would lull her back to slumber with a careful touch. She always rose in the morning looking fully rested, much to his relief. He was going to miss that. 

Finding his nerve, Mateo swallowed thickly with his eyes shut. With a final deep breath, his brown eyes met hers, soft and anxious, and he leaned forward to give Xóchitl what he thought was a final kiss. It was thoughtful and slow, a tenderness Mateo thought impossible to produce. Pulling back, the mare sighed. “I caught those damn feelings. For you.” He confessed, adjusting his seat uncomfortably as the truth hung in the air. As he waited for Xóchitl to walk away from his mistake. “I like you. I’m sorry.”

Her distraction seemed to be doing its job, but then Mateo wasn’t even totally focusing on her and Xóchitl hated that she cared about that beyond her usual craving for attention (so maybe her parents dressing her up as Tinkerbell when she was three made some kind of sense), how she didn’t want him to look at her with anything but desire, but desire laced with care, and she couldn’t focus on that right now. Focusing on his body and how much she wanted to kiss it was much easier.

“We agreed.” Xóchitl echoed his words. His gaze on hers felt almost more intimate than them being completely naked in bed had been. Which was strange, because she would’ve expected that sex would have been the most vulnerable a person could have been – yet in the same train of thought, she had to acknowledge that sex wasn’t too vulnerable for her, because it was somewhere where she felt comfortable and incredibly at ease. This? Not so much. She slept easier around Mateo, and she couldn’t totally explain why. She liked waking up to his breakfasts, enjoyed talking with him until she drifted off to sleep, impressed by how he never seemed to get tired before she did.

“You don’t – don’t say sorry.” She kissed him back, blinking rapidly, trying to process what he’d said. Feelings. Which they weren’t supposed to do, full stop. Getting close meant bad things could happen, and she was already close enough just by staying over as often as she did. “Feelings are natural – it’s – it’s stupid to make rules like that, right? Lo siento, Mateo – I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Xóchitl steadied her breath, wondered if she should move, but instead brought her hand to his jaw, kissed him again. “I like you too. A lot. I feel safe with you, and you’re one of the first people I think of when I want to share something good that happened – I – but I’m not – I’ve never done relationships. It’s not – I don’t know if I’m girlfriend material.”

Mateo raised his brows slowly with surprise, an unsteady feeling circling his stomach and twisting it. He kept people at a distance, molded an image that held his most genuine traits while withholding the messier side of himself. Killing people as an undead creature of nightmares wasn’t something just anyone could accept. It was just easier to keep those things hidden, especially when there were hunters out there trying to kill people like the mare. But Xóchitl was no hunter, and whether Mateo wanted to admit it or not, she had become important to him. So few people could make him consider such a leap, but she was definitely one of them. He knew better than anyone that the truth couldn’t stay hidden forever. If Xóchitl liked Mateo back too, then there was only a matter of time before she discovered every part of him. 

That idea terrified him, but the possibility of never getting a chance at all scared him more. He didn’t know how that made him feel, and it didn’t really matter. Not anymore. Xóchitl had confirmed the impossible, and Mateo let himself take on a softer disposition. Like he always did around her. She just rarely had a chance to see it because he was always helping her back to sleep. “I’ve never done this shit either, Xó. I mean, you saw how long it took me to just say anything at all.” Mateo paused, looking at Xóchitl softly and taking her hand in comfort. If anyone didn’t have the capability to be any sort of worthy material, it was Mateo. At least, that was his opinion. What came out though, was a reply far more thoughtful and sincere. Maybe a little hopeful, too. “I think…I think we get to decide what that material is.” He shrugged, “Like, I decide what makes the material for my girlfriend, and you decide for your boyfriend. Everything else is just…” With another shrug, he locked eyes with Xóchitl, stroking his thumb over the back of her hand. “Nerves. You know?” Mateo would like to think he did, but truthfully, he was completely lost and acting from the thing in his chest he reserved for his family.

She’d distinctly made an effort to not get too close to anybody. It had already failed with a few, but that had been all friendship-adjacent. This was something entirely different, wholly new, and completely strange. Xóchitl liked the way that he made her feel, even if he didn’t know everything about her. Even if, despite all the complicated feelings that arose whenever she thought about him – or them together – she didn’t know if she wanted him to know everything, because maybe knowing everything would shatter some sort of illusion that he had of her. She did figure that whatever his vision of who she was was better than she actually was. She didn’t want to shatter that view that he might’ve had of her, because maybe (or more than maybe), she liked the fact that he might have thought of her highly.

“Fair enough.” She giggled, “it did take you a while to say that. I thought you were just going to ask me to do something extra strange in the bedroom. Which, still not opposed, but I – I like this.” She nodded between them, “this is nicer. Softer, ‘teo.” Xóchitl let him take her hand and she rubbed her thumb against the back of his hand. “I – yeah.” She didn’t especially enjoy feeling at a loss for words, but she did, and she couldn’t help herself, now, and Mateo had been honest with her and wasn’t she supposed to show him some honesty in return? “That’s true. Yeah. We can decide. Because fuck the norms of whatever society expects boyfriends and girlfriends to be.” His thumb was on the back of her hand now and it was maddeningly distracting, so much so that she had to close her eyes for a moment. “Yeah – nerves. I – same. I’m – those are a thing.” She opened her eyes and kissed him again. “So – I – wait, is your food going to burn? Not that I’m even really thinking about that now, but I’d prefer to not be the cause of your house catching fire, or your hard work going to waste.” She sat back a moment. “That does mean I have to get off, and I don’t like the idea of that much at all.”

Relief washed over Mateo, and despite not needing air, he was greedy for it with a deep and calming inhale. He sighed, thankful that he wasn’t the only one stumbling over his words. It was nice to not be alone, and to have feelings returned. He’d never been proven wrong like that before, even found that it wasn’t so bad to not be right. “Yeah.” Mateo agreed with a nod and a smile, “Fuck norms. All of ‘em.” With a chuckle, he moved his hands up Xóchitl’s arms, trailing his way to her shoulders and down her back. He’d long forgotten about the pozole, but knowing himself, Mateo had already set the stove to an appropriate temperature in case the two got way too distracted. 

“Left that baby on simmer. You and I tend to…” He bobbed his head back and forth, making a playful face at Xóchitl. “You know. Time usually gets away from us. But I mean, who says you have to get off?” Bouncing his brows, Mateo placed his hands firmly on Xóchitl’s hips and rose from the sofa. She was secure in his arms, her face close enough for several more pecks to her lips and cheeks. He opted to focus on the walk to the kitchen instead, placing her on the counter next to the stove. “Hmm…” Mateo took a few sniffs from the pluming steam, humming with satisfaction at the smell. It was ready to eat, and he clapped his hands together before looking back to Xóchitl to give her his full attention once more. 

“With confessions outta the way, do you wanna pour some bowls and…” His smile faltered at the idea of discussion, knowing he’d likely have to delve into the subject of emotions, of which he avoided often. But, if Mateo was allowing himself to feel something more than lust for someone, didn’t that mean he could possibly be evolving in other places, too? He swallowed nervously, sighing. “Talk. We should probably talk…more. You know?”

His hands were trailing around her back and it, once again, distracted her from any other thoughts she might’ve had. It was a certain delightful distraction. “Fuck the norms.” She repeated, once again. Xóchitl didn’t like to consider herself someone easily at a loss for words, but right now she very much was.

“That’s true, we do tend to get distracted. I’m impressed we’re still talking given that I have my shirt off, but…” Xóchitl shook her head. She was deflecting again, and she knew that she was, even if she didn’t want to admit it. Except then he was picking her up and she didn’t even have time to fully comment on what was going on before it was already happening and she had to admit that it wasn’t so bad at all. In fact, there was a certain sort of delicate intimacy to it all, and that made her both completely calm and utterly unnerved. It was also endearing to watch Mateo move around the kitchen, and she loved how at home he looked, and how his smile looked, and how lovely his humming was.

Then he’d turned back to her and she did nearly a double take, trying to register all that was going on, trying to jolt herself out of whatever half-trance she’d been in. “What, you aren’t going to feed me while I’m shirtless on your kitchen counter?” Xóchitl grinned, another eyebrow raised. “But … yeah. We should do that. Bowls and stuff and also talking.”

Mateo laughed at Xóchitl’s remark, looking at the pot and then back to her. “You want me to feed you hot-ass caldo while you’re shirtless? Isn’t that, like, how you get burned?” Still, he grabbed the ladle and the dish towel hanging from the oven handle. Slowly, he filled the ladle’s bowl and planted it carefully onto the towel to eliminate the possibility of dripping or spilling onto Xóchitl’s skin. “Here, ya big baby.” There was a wink added to the end of the statement, accompanied by Mateo’s signature shit-eating grin. 

“Say ‘ah…’” He tilted the stew into her mouth and arched a playful brow before placing everything aside. “There. Happy?” She did, at least by Mateo’s observation, and he smiled even bigger in return with a soft tug to his lips. There was a terrifying nature to the entire encounter, but it didn’t seem so bad in the moment and it didn’t make his smile faster that time. Mateo could let himself enjoy what they had, if only for a little while. Ruining things was in his nature, but he’d take great care with the fall and accept whatever comes. 

The air was brisk and bitter, at least according to her weather app. Gia normally would have taken her car out on a day like this, but ever since she died last week she hadn’t even noticed the late fall chill. Maybe that was a perk to being whatever she was, she could take her bike out year round if she wanted to. With all of the strange sludge pouring out around town the bike tended to just be a bit easier to maneuver around town. With nowhere in particular to go but a burning need to get out of the house, Gia threw on her leather biker jacket and her fingerless driving gloves and headed outside. 

As she drove about town Gia was trying to let the bellowing sounds of the motor drown out her inner voice to no avail. Some of the people she rode past felt like they were beckoning to her, pulling her in like there was an invisible string connecting the two of them. She needed to get away from everyone. She just needed to get away. 

Before she could turn towards the more secluded areas of town, however, Gia came across a red light and slowed her motorcycle to a stop as she approached it. In the lane next to her another biker was already stopped. She looked over at what he was riding. For this town, his rig was pretty decent. She didn’t seem to recognize him, though. 

__ 

Not many cars seemed to be cruising around the streets with that damn goo spread all over. Most took to walking or even simply staying home because of it, but not Mateo. He was happy to see the roads so desolate and free of idiots who never seemed to care about motorists on two wheels. 

On more than one occasion, the mare found himself just barely missing an oblivious driver due to their negligence. While being dead granted him with much protection from most things, he didn’t like the mess created when he bled. It was always more of a hassle than it was worth, especially because glitter never came out of anything. So Mateo was more than glad to see the roads open for his bike, even more so when a fellow rider slowed down next to him at a stop light. He smiled under his helmet, almost forgetting to raise the face shield so he could be seen.

“Nice ride.” He twisted his handle, throttling the engine of his black Triumph Rocket 3R. It was meant to be more of greeting than showing off, but Mateo wouldn’t back away if it was taken as the latter. “Never seen you ‘round, though. You new here?”

Gia listened to the roaring echoes of the Rocket’s engine and couldn’t help but smile. It was a sound that told her two things with fair certainty: this guy kept his bike in great condition and she could absolutely smoke his ass. Her eyes darted around what she could see of the bike before her attention turned to the rider. “Not too bad yourself.” One hand on the brakes, one on the throttle, Gia let the engine of her Suzuki Hayabusa return the greeting. 

“Never been from anywhere but here. Guess you don’t hang ‘round the cool places in town.” From what she could see it was admittedly a bit surprising that they had never crossed paths, it seemed like they certainly had some common interests. Then again, Gia usually spent more of her time on four wheels. “But, ya know, I get it. Some people are all show with their engines. Can’t really hang with the professionals. Seems like you aren’t running factory settings at least, shows you’ve got some respect for the bike.” The soft smirk on her face was, hopefully, an indication that this was standard playful trash talk. Often being the only girl in racing circles, Gia had learned that some men couldn’t handle any level of trash talk from a woman. It was a great litmus test to check how douchey certain dudes were. 

A woman truly after a trash man’s heart. Tattoos, smack talk, a mechanic, and she without a doubt enjoyed punk music. Mateo wasn’t the type to swoon or chase, but if he had to pick, the woman next to him would be a fantastic choice. “Okay, okay. You obviously know your way around town and an engine.” He laughed, genuinely. “Ain’t been in town very long and my job has me traveling, but if you’re down, I’d let you show me around.” Roaring his engine again, Mateo leaned back and eyed the stranger with interest. She really did know how to draw a person in, especially when said person’s type was strong women.

“I like engines and making them purr, but racing them? Not my forté.” With a shrug, Mateo chuckled, eyes quickly darting to the traffic light. Still red. Good. “All I really do is test their ability and then just cruise. But…” He raised a brow, grinning. “If I find the right person—or if someone is mad rude—I’ve been known to burn some rubber for the sake of respect or fun.” The traffic light turned green, but with no one else around and the prospect of a race, Mateo ignored it, enjoying the view instead. “You lookin’ to have some fun, ma?” He throttled his engine, egging her on. “Show me what that engine do.”

“What makes you think I wanna show you around?” Admittedly, of all the guys who’ve revved their engines at Gia, he had at least gotten her attention in a positive way. Maybe it was the way his laugh sounded, or perhaps it was because he wasn’t making her earn the apparent respect he was giving her. He was simply taking her at her word. Maybe it was all talk, getting her guard down before offering up a friendly race. For the first time since her death, however, she felt something other than pure rage in this interaction. It wasn’t much but it was more than enough to keep Gia invested. 

“Racing’s about a lot more than just how well your engine purrs,” she couldn’t imagine the hit her reputation would take if she agreed to this race with a self-proclaimed ‘cruiser’ and she lost. Experienced or not, he had the horsepower to give her a run for her money. Somehow that was part of what was pulling her in. She smirked as she heard his engine revving again, “I’m always looking for some fun. Real question is whether or not you’re able to give me some.” She had been itching to feel alive, to feel a rush again. “Next light on this road is in half a mile.” Gia looked up at the green light, knowing that it would switch to yellow shortly. “Go on yellow,” she said before turning her attention back to her bike and shifting into a better racing position. 

___ 

“Then I’m in luck ‘cause I’m always looking for some fun too. Not many people know what fun is.” It was like clockwork, the way the woman gave another snarky comment, keeping Mateo on his toes. The only other person who’d given the mare a run for his money was Xóchitl, who was admittedly a little too good at running the man in circles. He didn’t mind. The chase was half the fun, and if the sound of the engine next to him was any indication, he was about to be in one hell of a pursuit. Not that Mateo minded in the slightest whether he won or lost. Then again, he began to wonder what the winner got. 

“Hey,” He whistled, keeping an eye on the light just in case it changed. “Any idea about what you wanna wager?” His engine roared a bit more, “Since you don’t wanna show me around, maybe you’ll have to if you lose. A bigger punishment, you know?” Mateo smirked playfully, sliding his visor back down before facing the traffic light. A half mile wasn’t much. With both of their engines, it would take a matter of seconds for it to be over, and when the light changed, both bikes burst forward. If luck was on Mateo’s side, and it looked like it was given the short lead he had to start with, he’d see a whole other side of town with a baddie next to him. 

Normally, in the more formally planned races that Gia took part in, people raced for one of two things: cold hard cash or pink slips. It was unspoken, of course, that respect would also be awarded to whoever crossed that finish line first. She hadn’t ever raced for … a date? Was that what he was trying to get at? “Cute idea.” Gia laughed and without turning to look at him again she added, “When I win, Imma get that jacket. And the benefit of not having to play tour guide.” 

Those few seconds before kicking off a race used to bring Gia an almost overwhelming rush of adrenaline, the uncertainty of what was about to unfold knotted in her gut. Even now, even though she wanted so desperately to feel that way, everything was just so muted. She quite literally couldn’t sync her breath with her heartbeat as she stared at the glowing green light and waited for it to switch to yellow. 

She told herself that was why the other bike seemed to shoot forward a fraction of a second before she did and that caused all of that rage bubbling below the surface to jolt back up. It was anger Gia felt towards herself, an anger that she wasn’t what she wanted to be. It only grew her need to win - she just needed to get the fuck out of her own head. It took a second, precious time she didn’t have in a race like this, but Gia got her focus back and closed the lead that the guy had on her. She smiled to herself, feeling more in control. Next step: take the lead. 

There were few races that the mare had ever participated in, all amateur in nature and the result of petty remarks thrown around. Despite any real experience, Mateo could feel it in his bones that he made a grave mistake when he released the throttle and sent himself surging forward. That was most of the power his bike could produce in a flash, and if the saying ‘slow and steady wins the race’ had any real logic behind it, Mateo believed his excitement might have already cost him. He cursed at himself for it, rolling his shoulders and already missing the leather he’d soon be losing.

Mateo swallowed, teeth grinding with frustration. No, he thought. No. Get outta your head. He swallowed, still trying to keep himself composed as his opponent took off in front of him. From there, Mateo had quite the view, though the distraction couldn’t keep its hold if he wanted to win. But would losing a jacket be so bad? He pondered on the thought, his competitive nature winning out and mixing with the more relaxed part of him. That was better, really. Now he was having fun and speeding up, neck-in-neck with a certified baddie. There was a grin on his face, covered by his helmet. Mateo was sure it wouldn’t fade, win or lose.

The soft and steady hum of the bike between her legs grounded Gia’s thoughts as she stayed focused on the road ahead of her. A lot of people thought that you needed to focus on who you were up against during a race in order to win, but she knew that wasn’t true. In any race she had ever run, Gia’s only competition was with herself. If she just focused on her wheels, her engine, her path then she was set. Distractions, like thinking about how great she’d look in that jacket or how cute his stupid little smirk was or where his bike was, they didn’t serve her at that moment. 

After she took enough of a lead, Gia pulled her bike up in front of his so that they weren’t riding side-by-side anymore. It was unnecessary, sure, given that this was just a friendly race, but Gia was never one to take it easy when it came to this shit. The night air felt warm against her cold skin, and the distance between herself and that next set of lights was closing with rapid acceleration. There was something so pure about an impromptu street race - no prepping or planning, no crowd. As her bike crossed over the threshold of the intersection, solidifying her win, Gia smiled softly. 

For the first time since the race started, she looked back in her rear view mirror, impressed with how close of a race he had made it. Gia shifted her hands off the gas and onto the brakes as she spun her handlebars around, in that swift motion she slowed and spun her bike around so that she was facing the opposite direction and her tires left skid marks as the bike pulled over to a stop. Normally she’d take a minute to catch her breath, let her heart rate drop back to a normal pulse; all of which was unnecessary these days. 

__ 

It felt like an eternity the way the two bikes were at an impasse. A game of cat and mouse, each bike fighting to gain the advantage. Mateo fought for his bike to speed past the bike next to him, but the tachometer was reaching its peak and the temperature gauge was slowly creeping toward the side of overheating. If he let that happen, the bike would be done for, and it’d take weeks for Mateo to repair the engine. Not that it mattered anyway. The stranger had more heat to pack in her bike and she picked up the pace, securing her win as she sped past the finish line with ease. 

Mateo made it past only a moment later, shifting his weight and hitting the brake in time to skid to a halt right next to the winner. And quite frankly, she slid into her win a lot more smoothly than he did. It brought a smile to Mateo’s face. He planted his brake down and removed his helmet with one swift motion, placing it carefully over one of the handlebars. “Hell of a beast you got there,” He bowed respectfully, already shrugging out of his favorite bike jacket. At the very least, he could afford another. It would just not have all the sentimental value he’d collected over the hundreds of rides he’d gone through wearing it. Mateo supposed it couldn’t be helped. A bet was a bet, and he wasn’t the type to hold out on his end of the bargain. He was a man of repute. 

“I believe this is yours.” His smile was lackluster but respectful, and he offered his jacket over. “Can’t be mad at a loss like that.” A chuckle escaped him and he shook his head side to side as he playfully pondered. “Well, I can be, but only at myself.” A more genuine smile spread across Mateo’s face and he took a deep breath, trying to focus less on what he lost, and focus more on the adrenaline still coursing through. With that energy, he’d be able to jump around and eat well later. Not all was lost. 

Part of the respect of the race was being humble in defeat. As skilled as she was, Gia had tasted that more than a few times herself. Sometimes it’s just not your race and how you act in those moments is a show of character. Gia pulled her helmet off, securing it to her bike and dropping the kickstand before she stood up. They were pulled off close enough to the side of the road that she wasn’t really concerned about other vehicles on the road - not that there were any in sight. 

“Yeah, she’s pretty amazing. Can’t take all the credit… my pops made a few of the mods on her. Bikes are more his thing, I usually prefer to have four hunks of rubber on the ground.” Gia watched as he slid the leather jacket off, revealing even more tattoos than she had seen earlier. “Any of that local?” She reached out and grabbed the jacket when it was offered and even though she already kinda knew that she wasn’t gonna really keep it, she took her own jacket off and threw his on.  

Even though she didn’t feel it herself, she knew it was cold out. “Don’t beat yourself up too bad. This is kinda my shit… and you had me there for a few seconds.” Gia grinned, sliding her hands into the pockets of the jacket and leaning gently against her bike. “Tell ya what, this shit is real nice, definitely worth more than that race was. Feel like it’s only fair for me to give you a shot at winning it back.” 

Scanning the bike in full, it was plain as day (or rather night) that Mateo didn’t stand a chance to begin with. All the mods were hidden under their covers, but the sound all but purred as it stood idly on the side of the road. “More into cars, huh?” So was Mateo, and if this went as well as he was thinking despite the loss, there was a chance he’d be able to show off his truck. “I actually have an old school Chevy truck that I’ve tricked out over the years. Nothing crazy. Just making it pretty and making sure it runs beautifully.” He smiled, a little taken aback when he saw just how beautiful the winner next to him was. Tattoos galore just like him and a gorgeous face to boot. Also like him, but Mateo held his ego back. The loss hurt a lot less. 

“Nah. Just moved here a few months back. Most of these are from a homeboy of mine that I met in Texas. Liked his style so much I kept going back, but it’s kind of a far drive to get some more ink by him.” Lifting his shirt to reveal his latest tattoo, Mateo pointed at it with a smile. “This though, it’s from here.” It was the face of the Aztec god Tláloc. Lined boldly and shaded like an old style tattoo. “Homegirl did a great job honestly. Will probably go back and get something else.” 

Mateo chuckled at the way he was being reassured, but he waved it off and continued to smile. He wasn’t upset at the loss. Bets are bets, and he always prided himself on being a man of his word. But he’d be lying if he said the idea of winning his shit back didn’t pique his interest. “Well, I do have taste, ya know?” With a laugh, he threw his leg over his bike and leaned against it with his arms crossed and a brow raised. “What’s this about winning it back, though?”

“Been working on them since I was strong enough to hold a torque. Been driving ‘em since I was tall enough to reach the pedals,” Gia couldn’t help but be a bit impressed when he started talking about his truck. Based on the build of his bike and the way that he rode, she had a suspicion that he was downplaying the truck's build. “Oh, yeah? What kinda engine you got on it?” It seemed somewhat presumptuous to ask outright, but she was genuinely quite curious to get a look under the hood. Every car had its own build and personality and when you take the time to do it all yourself, it can be quite telling as to the mechanics' own energy. 

“Texas? Shit. What brought you up this way?” Gia watched as he lifted up his shirt, impossible not to admire the physique of the canvas in addition to the skillful tattoo lines. “That’s wicked nice. You go to Seven Serpents?” There were a handful of shops in or around town, but they by far had the best reputation. Pulling down the neck of her t-shirt, Gia pointed at the flowers surrounding the heart tattoo that she had across her sternum, “Got this whole thing done there, but some of the flowers are new additions.” 

Gia shrugged nonchalantly at his question, partly cause she hadn’t exactly thought of another competition where he could win the jacket back. “Usually I’d offer up a rematch… but that wouldn’t really be giving you a fair shot at a win,” she teased with a smirk. “So, ya know, maybe we’ll make this loser's choice. You got something you think you could beat me at?” 

Damn. This woman was getting more and more intriguing by the second. Mateo couldn’t wait to pick her brain on vehicle specs and get her opinion on how to improve his builds. “Got a V8 running in that baby. Old school engine I rebuilt with my pops from his old LS6. Thing is a beauty and I can totally show you some time…whatever your name is—I just realized I never got your name.” He paused with a smile, which quickly turned into a laugh. “Just been calling you baddie in my head.” 

With a shrug, he moved on and patted his stomach happily as he listened to the disbelief at how far he’d traveled. Mateo missed home everyday, and hated being so far away, but he knew it was better for him to be in Wicked’s Rest. There were people to protect, and he couldn’t really do that if he lived close. “Work. It is what it is. I don’t mind too much. Especially when I keep meeting some bad motherfuckers out here.” That had to put an end to the topic, Mateo hoped. He didn’t like lingering on thoughts of his family too long. His face was already starting to falter. He could feel it. Thankfully, the tattoo talk was a good distraction for them both, and Mateo took to admiring the beauty of the woman and the art on her flesh. “Yeah. That’s where I went. Nice to see more work from there. Shit is dope as hell.” 

Mateo quirked a brow at the offer, though he didn’t really care about the jacket. He was more interested in the idea of getting to show off a bit of his skill and spending time with someone he found so attractive. “All right.” He grinned, turning slightly to rev his engine playfully. “Then loser picks some ax and knife throwing. There’s a place down the way, and I’ll even pay for it.”

Grinning at the offer to check out the engine, almost as if he had read her mind, Gia nodded. “Yeah, I’d like to get a look at what you’re working with under the hood.” In response to his comment about calling her baddie, Gia laughed and rolled her eyes playfully; thankful that she was physically unable to blush in that moment. Normally shit like that coming from guys she met while racing just gave her the absolute ick, but that wasn’t the reaction she had to him. “Gia,” she offered up after contemplating for a second if she was gonna make him work harder for the information. “What about you? I haven’t been calling you anything in my head, but a name for a name seems like a fair trade.” 

She made note of the fact that they, evidently, went to the same parlor. Gia hadn’t been back for anything new since her death since she didn’t wanna have to explain why her skin was so cold. There was a part of her that also wondered if tattoos would take on dead skin, she figured it would but didn’t really want people around when she found out for sure. 

Between the bullshit music Leticia was forcing upon the shop, and the never-ending city sounds, it was difficult to find a place to simply be. That was the problem with the states. Everything and everyone moved so quickly, there was hardly a moment to sit in the quiet. Mateo missed Mexico for a lot of reasons, but that was a big one. You could find yourself on any rooftop, at any time of the day, and there would hardly be a disturbance. Cars were common, sure, but most people took to walking or riding bikes.

It was so much simpler there. While Mateo always searched for something new and shiny, his roots were in the calm and quiet. There was safety in that. Because of this, finding a little piece of safety was important. Mateo had picked out a spot in the woods, not far off from a hiking path. He had his guitar strapped to his back, ready to play some tunes in a place no one would see him or hear him. Well, that was the plan. Sadly though, there was someone encroaching on his apparently not-so-secret spot. 

“Uh…” Mateo scratched at his temple, “You hanging out right here?”

She’d liked Boston for how busy it could be. It wasn’t New York City levels of loud, usually, but it was loud enough when she was little that it did a wonder to keep her mind off of distinctly less pleasant sorts of things, things that she did her very best to ignore as often as she was able to. Wicked’s Rest, on the other hand, was painfully quiet. Even before losing her friend, Xóchitl had had a number of moments where things were too quiet, but Mackenzie had always eliminated any worries that came to mind. Not that there’d been tons of worries, before.

Now that she was back, she did her best to find moments of quiet. Shutting herself in her office did the job sometimes, as did stretch sessions in her home. Not quite yoga, though she tried, but calling them stretching sessions seemed more reasonable. Today, though, she’d decided to go out for a walk, to clear her mind.

She’d been doing more of that lately than she wanted to entirely acknowledge, but that was for her to talk to her presently-non-existent therapist about. Even though she’d told her moms that she had someone she was seeing. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. She was better now, after all. 

Except that someone else was in the space she’d elected to walk to. “I was planning to,” Xóchitl replied to his question. “Unless it’s taken.”

Oh…oh. The woman impeding on the space was gorgeous. Or was Mateo the intruder in the scenario? He was inclined to believe he was, all sensible thought tossed to the wind for the sake of swooning a beautiful woman. Mateo was nothing if not a creature of habit. 

“You were here first, right? I’m not a barbarian. I respect the rules of dibs.” He smiled playfully, hoping that it was as disarming as it usually was. Tattoos be damned, Mateo had full confidence in his personality—or at least the kind facade he put on for strangers. After all, they’d remain strangers even after they got to know each other’s bodies. But that was still a big what if. 

Mateo adjusted the guitar strap on his shoulder and looked around, his eyes landing back over to the brunette. “I’m Mateo, by the way. I actually come here all the time—kinda my cute little spot, ya know?” He chuckled, his sight flickering to her lips. “Surprised I haven’t seen you before. It’s cheesy as hell to ask, but do you come here often?” A common rouse for the mare, utilizing cheesy pickup lines, but actually making them pertain to actual conversation. Thus, making the horrible joke have some sort of charm. Usually. 

“I mean, you arrived first today, seems like.” Xóchitl turned her head, examining him. “I didn’t think you were a barbarian and I mean, I didn’t really call dibs, and even if I had, you didn’t know, which maybe overrides it, I don’t know.” She smiled at him. He seemed nice enough, and hell, she was lonely, so having someone so immediately ready to talk to her who wasn’t paying to get therapy was nice. Really nice.

She brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “Xóchitl,” she let her gaze fall over the guitar, and, admittedly, in turn over the man. He was handsome - probably in the way that her parents would’ve disapproved of, if she’d had the mind to have an actual relationship in highschool. Though again, Mama and Manman had never really been the sort to judge. That also was neither here nor there right now.

“It is a cute little spot.” She rolled back her shoulders, just slightly, because maybe she was showing off just a bit. Maybe Xóchitl liked the attention, and that couldn’t be any sort of flaw, could it? “I come about sometimes, I’m surprised I haven’t seen you before.” A shrug. “You know, I don’t think I’d mind the company too much.” She sat down, a few feet away from him, and stretched out her legs. “If I’m not a bother to you.” A small smirk crossed her lips.

The charm was working, as thick as it had been laid. That was the benefit of having been at it for a while. Mateo had navigated his way through enough stale conversations to handle the more responsive ones with ease. “Nah,” Mateo grinned, “Rule of dibs applies still. It’s like you haven’t called dibs on anything before. Maybe you’re the barbarian.” An obvious jest, one that made Mateo chuckle lightly as he set his guitar case down.

“So what are you doing out here, Xóchitl?” There was a bit of emphasis on her name, the Latine accent prominent. “Don’t you know there’s monstros out here?” Much like Mateo, but he kept that information to himself. “That’s what the town says anyway.” He took a seat, leaning his back against a neighboring tree as he outstretched his long legs and glided his eyes over Xóchitl’s every feature. “You must be one of those women who can beat the shit outta someone, huh? Dope shit if that’s the case. Strong women are a favorite of mine.”

“I’m not so sure that I like the idea of being a barbarian, but if you say so…” Xóchitl made the slightest of faces, “then perhaps I am.” It seemed to be what he’d want to hear, and he had to have been joking, and even if he wasn’t, she was determined not to let it get to her too much. At all would’ve been impossible, and since she had her thoughts all to herself, she let herself sit with it.

“Hmm?” His accent made her grin, “Sí? qué clase? Bears? Lions, Tigers? Whatever else’s in that Wizard movie?” Xóchitl shrugged. “The town says a whole lot of things. I’m inclined to believe what I see, not rumors. I don’t see any monsters, so I think I’m good.” She let her gaze flit across his jawline, across his lips. “I mean, I don’t have loads of experience, but probably, if I wanted to. I can certainly appreciate a man who likes strong women. Especially one who admits it so readily.” Her lips curved into a smile, and even though she’d very much set out for quiet, she found that she didn’t especially mind this company. Not too much at all.

The Spanish made everything feel softer than anticipated. Being away from home was difficult enough, but to realize there was no one to share his language with made it that much harder. Maine was so far north that Mateo felt displaced most days, but right then? It felt like he had a touch of home with him in the most unlikely of places, with a stranger of all people. 

“What wizard move you talking about? They got cooler shit than just regular ‘ol bears, lions, and tigers. There’s fire-breathing birds, venomous dogs, and shit like that.” Mateo scooted closer, leaning back on his hands. “You don’t even believe them even a little? Like…” Him, for example. Though he wouldn’t say that aloud. Mateo would offer a different species. “Like those vampire guys. They don’t look like monsters. They’re, like, handsome devils like me.” He bit his lip as he smiled, unable to contain the laughter that spilled out. 

Twilight was funny for so many reasons, except for the glittery skin. Somehow they mixed up vampires and mares in that regard, but it wasn’t something that Mateo minded terribly. The sparkling made him look ridiculous, but that couldn’t be helped. “Well, Xóchitl, here’s to you not having to kick ass. Certainly not mine, at least. I’m a good boy and just wanna relax.” He breathed, leaning toward Xóchitl,

“Was even gonna play some tunes, but that’s more of a fourth date kinda ordeal.”

“Something about Oz, I don’t know, a friend made me watch it when I was six. There’s talk about being lost in the woods with bears and tigers and lions, I think.” Xóchitl paused, “yes, I’ve heard stories about those too.” Stories that she avoided, if possible. Stories that were all entirely something fake, made up, cruel. No matter how popular they might have been.

“I’ve read Twilight. Wasn’t impressed. Don’t see the appeal of pasty men who - anyhow, my point is, you’re handsome, yeah - of course - but I think things like that would look weird, if they were real.” Whatever had killed Mackenzie certainly had, and Xóchitl felt sick to her stomach, for only a moment, before she refocused on the man in front of her, who was now closer than he was before. Which she found that she didn’t mind all too much. After all, anything they were talking about was entirely surface level, which meant she was safe. Meant she didn’t have to keep up her guard as much.

“You seem like a very good boy, and I came here to relax too, so I have no plans to kick your ass. Don’t know if I’m wearing the outfit for it. Is there an outfit for that kind of thing?” She mused, more to herself than anyone else. “Fourth date, really?” A grin spread over Xóchitl’s lips. “Well then what should we get up to now? Though I would love to hear music, but I understand I’ve got to work for that.”

Mateo threw his head back with laughter, the jab at pasty men doing well to humor him. Twilight got so many things wrong, but the sheer lack of color on most of the characters was just offensive. The blue tint overlay didn’t help much either, but Mateo wasn’t going to get into it. “Okay, okay. So you’re saying you’ve got taste. Glad to hear it.” He grinned, settling into the earth on his side with his head propped up. His guitar was all but forgotten in the midst of such wonderful conversation. Mateo was never really one to talk so much, but it all felt so familiar and comfortable—like he wasn’t so far from home anymore.

“Hey, you can kick ass in any outfit if you believe. I’ve had to do it in a suit.” A shrug, “Listen, it got ruined, but I did, indeed, kick some ass.” Mateo laughed again, rolling onto his back and lacing his fingers behind his head. The sky that peeked through the trees was peaceful enough to get Mateo to let out a relaxed sigh, enjoying the moment as long as he could. “Maybe we could discuss favorite music. I am a professional and even work at the Vinyl Countdown in town. By the fourth date, maybe I’ll play a song you like.”

“I have got taste, thank you for noticing.” Xóchitl couldn’t help but grin. “Seems like you do, too, though we’re still getting to know each other, so I can’t say for sure.” It was easy to play playful here, now, even if she didn’t fully feel it in her gut, but he was a stranger, and so he didn’t have to know that her laugh was just the tiniest bit forced. 

“A suit?” Xóchitl raised an eyebrow. “Well, don’t you just keep getting more impressive.” She switched to Spanish for a moment, “Are you new in town? I only ask because I don’t always see people like us around, though it’s not awful, as far as towns go.” She nodded at his next words. “Sí, en español o en inglés?” In Spanish or in English? “I’m impressed you already want to try to get to a fourth date. I hope I can make this one worth your while. But yes, what music do you like?”

“That’s what I do, ma. I’m full of surprises and unexpected tastes.” Mateo’s expression fell at the sight of the sun, managing to finally hit his skin. He covered it as quickly as he could, knowing the sparkle would only incite questions. “I, uh…” Eyes flitted from his own skin to Xóchitl, attention difficult while the sun remained a problem. “I’m new in town, yeah.” Mateo replied in Spanish, “All the way from Texas. Left a big family, but it was time to…” Ensure they wouldn’t get hurt with his new job. “Spread my wings.” He sighed, picking at invisible dirt on his arm. 

“I actually like punk rock mostly.” Mateo gestured to his battle vest. Well, his day-to-day one. The one he wore to concerts had much more on display, pins and patches of his favorite groups and what he believed in. The one he had on in particular then only had a few patches. The Misfits, Public Enemy, Dead Kennedys, and Bad Brains, all of which were stitched carefully and placed strategically. But that was hardly what mattered at the moment. Mateo was feeling confident with how Xóchitl proclaimed the time they were spending something else. “So, uh…you’re saying this is a first date?” He grinned, “Never fallen into one before.”

“Can’t say I always like surprises, but also I can’t say that I mind this sort too much.” If nothing else, this continued to prove a useful distraction from everything that was going on. Even if less was going on now than at other points of her life, a distraction never could hurt. “I’ve never been to Texas, but I’ve heard it’s beautiful. It must be nice to have a big family -” Xóchitl continued in Spanish, “mine’s just me and my moms. But yeah, I came back here to, I guess, spread my wings too.” Or at least that was the easiest sort of excuse to make regarding her plans for being here. 

“Ah yes, I see.” Another nod. “Can’t say I have too much experience with punk rock, but what little experience I have, I appreciate. I like?” She made a small face. “Regardless, that’s a good genre.” Xóchitl laughed, “I say that like I have even the slightest bit of authority on music. Which, I mean, I play the piano, so… but I don’t think that’s the same as knowing music like you seem to.” An eyebrow shot up at his next question. “If you want it to be. I don’t usually date, but I have been known to do things that get me what I want, and I’d like to hear you play music, so, if this is what it takes…” her voice trailed off.

The way Spanish flowed freely was a growing comfort, something Mateo felt like he could lay in for hours. As much as Puro Vida and the fact that Leticia was Latine herself was a saving grace in Wicked’s Rest, there was always a longing for more. Mexico was so far away, and keeping his family safe was the priority in Mateo’s life. He’d take what he could get. In that moment, it was simple conversation with a stranger, who just so happened to be his type. Beautiful, funny, and witty. He was a simple guy. Sue him. 

“Depends where in Texas. We moved to Temple, which is close to Austin. Big Latine community and lots of nightlife. Best tacos you could eat if you weren’t in Mexico.” Mateo shrugged, licking his lips as he traced patterns in the dirt. It was easier to talk that way when emotions began to build. He missed home. “Big family can be nice. Not the easiest to be away from them. Most of us stay close to the nest, you know?” 

Sighing, Mateo looked back up, smiling at the way Xóchitl talked about music and how she played an instrument herself. She was getting cooler by the second. “Oh, dip? You play piano? Not knowing the beauty of punk rock is fine now that I know you play.” Mateo sat up and laughed, growing excited at an idea that came to mind. “Listen, I don’t usually date either, so this doesn’t have to be anything. If you wanna hear me play, then I’ll do it as long as you play for me. I’ve got a keyboard back at my crib, but it’s up to you, ma.”

She didn’t have to think as much when she spoke Spanish, which was a relief unto itself. Enjoying the conversation was an added bonus, as were Mateo’s looks. “That’s nice. God, now you’ve got me craving tacos - especially carnitas.” She sighed at the very thought of it. “Yeah, I do know. As much as I like independence, I do miss being around my mama. But you know, maybe this town isn’t so bad after all.” So what if she made an extra effort to throw a smile in his direction. She was allowed to have fun, wasn’t she?

“I do, and glad you’ve found it in your heart to forgive me. It’s appreciated.” Her lips curved into another smile. “I’d like to see your place, yeah. I’ll play for you, absolutely. You can even make requests for what I’ll do,” Xóchitl paused for a moment, “and I’ll do my best to perform to your satisfaction.”

Xóchitl had more game than the mare cared to admit. The smile she shot at Mateo felt like she was turning the tables on him, and he wasn’t sure if he liked that or not. He chose to ignore that for the time being. “If you’re craving tacos, there’s literally one place you can get some that actually taste good.” Mateo grinned, thinking of the sopapillas he could get to scarf down. God, he loved sugar, and always had. The craving was just a bit stronger now. 

“Sweet,” Mateo grinned in return, “So it sounds like we’re getting tacos and I’ll definitely be getting sopapillas on the side,” He sat up slowly, looking toward his guitar. “Then you can play me piano and we’ll see where the day leads us. Sound good, ma?”

“Oh yeah, where’s that?” She responded, “I’m a shittier cook than I’d like to be, but I can also whip something up, probably.” Xóchitl grinned at him. “I’m starving now, especially with you mentioning that.” Starving for more than one thing, surely, but that was neither here nor there right now.