pengychan:

pengychan:

I was about to just answer and instead I wrote a thing.

The kid notices the break within thirty second of stepping into his apartment. Of course he does, he’s observant.

That, and maybe giving him a key so that he can let his own damn self in any moment was not the brightest idea Ernesto has ever had. It’s hard to hide anything when someone walks into you trying to splint your right arm on your own sitting on the couch in your living room, and his dishevelled hair is not doing much to hide the crack that runs down almost to the eye socket, either.

“I. Tripped over my alebrijes.”

The worried look turns into an unimpressed one at first – I could come up with a better lie in my sleep, it tells him – and then to anger. Ezequiel reaches for his whiteboard, but Ernesto shakes his head before he can write anything. 

“I don’t know who it was. Some guys in the street.”

It isn’t even a lie, that. He really has no idea who those men were; he was walking back home through a few alleys when a gust of wind had torn the hat off his head – stupid, stupid, he should have been holding onto it – and that had been it. He was recognized in seconds, and jumped on before he could try to get away. 

The Rivera family may have decided not to press charges, but the court of public opinion still has several bones to pick with him.

Afficher davantage

#OKAY BUT WHY DOESNT CHEQUE TALK ??? #I WANNA KNOW #did I miss it ??

It was explained here!
(Short answer: trauma.)