Cheque takes a lot after Ernesto, what would Hector and Imelda’s thoughts be on that?

pengychan:

pengychan:

I wrote a thing.

The resemblance hits him all at once one evening, as he’s helping Rosita in the kitchen and he notices Cheque walking in, all smiles and bright-eyed, clearly looking to get a bite of the cake Rosita just baked. 

The boy doesn’t look much like Ernesto; not now and not in life, either, judging from his picture on the ofrenda. Ernesto was on the chubby side as a kid, while Ezequiel had been on the thin side of lean. He is shorter than Ernesto had been his age, his shoulders not as broad, his frame nowhere as thick, and his features more angular. That, and Ernesto had been loud, always looking to be at the center of attention; Ezequiel is silent, of course, and far more at ease in the background. 

No, all in all there are no similarities… until he sees them, and then they’re so obvious.

It is the tilt of his head, the innocent look, the cocky grin when he gets what he wants; it is the spring in his step and the unconscious, effortless grace of his movements. It is the look of pride when he manages a magician’s trick that baffles even Óscar and Felipe. It is how he pauses in front any reflective surface, the quick gesture to brush back his hair; he’s doing that right now, glancing at his reflection on the oven… and Héctor is not the only one looking, either. 

Across the kitchen, Imelda is watching. Her expression is unreadable for a moment, her mouth pressed in a thin line, her frame tensing; then their gazes meet and Héctor knows that she sees it, too. Until Rosita laughs, and that grim moment of recognition is over. 

He and Imelda turn to see she’s cutting off a slice of cake, reaching to ruffle Ezequiel’s hair with her free hand. The annoyed look as he fixes his hair is gone quickly, but it is there and oh, it is as familiar as the bright smile that follows.

“We’ll be dining in a couple of hours, Rosita,” Imelda says, in a casual tone that shows none of the thoughts she and Héctor shared – and that is good, it’s how it has to be, because no similarity, however unsettling, is the boy’s fault.

As Ezequiel takes his first bite, stuffing his face with clear satisfaction, Rosita chuckles. “I know, I know. I just can’t resist those eyes,” she says. “What Cheque wants, Cheque gets.”

Yes, Héctor thinks, that is familiar, too. What he wants, he gets.

But Ezequiel del Rio wants for nothing more than family, security, and the occasional slice of cake. And that, Héctor thinks, makes all the difference in the world.

#sdfghjknjer yes #and no (?) abhsdn

Bad news: he’s a lot like Ernesto.
Good news: set of priorities is completely different.