The Musician Down the Road || Héctor Rivera X Reader ALIVE

Confessions of Love

Imelda, terrifying, powerful Imelda, had shown up at your house again. You actually had no idea why she had come this time. You hadn't been a terrible person, Héctor hadn't been a terrible person, not that he ever would be, and no one had died, Imelda didn't do gossip anyway, so as far as you knew there was no reason for her to be there, yet, there she was, on your doorstep.

She let herself in this time. She let herself in, and sat down on the sofa next to you, and passed you a note. Again. The note. Again. What was with her and notes these days?

You took the note slowly, carefully unfolding it and pressing the creases out.

"Héctor,
I love you. I have for as long as I can remember. Do you love me as well, or have you another lover?

Imelda"

A love note. A confession.

"Imelda,
I love you as a friend, a best friend at that. I do have a lover. Someone I love more than anything, more than what words could ever explain. I wish I could tell her - wish she could know, but how could I say it? I'm not a man of words! I'm a man of poorly written songs! A man of flirting and love and romance! I just need to find the woman for me, and I have, but I am afraid that woman is not you, Imelda.

Héctor"

He didn't love her the same way?

At the bottom of the page, in Imelda's neat, clean, perfect handwriting, cursive flowing like a dress across the page.

"He loves you, Y/N."

| THE NEXT DAY |

You were in the hayloft, back alone with your favorite book, now about halfway through. It was early morning, just past sunrise, only bright enough for light to barely shine through the dust-ridden windows and enough for you to read by.

Héctor pushed open the large barn door, hinges screaming with rust, and Héctor yelling a happy hello at you.

"Hola, señorita!"

You shoved your book into the backpack you kept up in the hayloft and waved.

"Hola Héctor! Come up, prisa, prisa!"

Héctor clambered up the ladder and flopped down next to you, pulling you into his chest. Héctor held you tightly by the shoulder.

You kissed his cheek "Héctor, may I ask you something?"

"You just asked me something. Of course you can." You lightly punched his arm.

You leaned away and pulled your bag over, unzipping a pocket on the top half, and tugged the note out, quickly unfolding it.

You held it so Héctor could see and poked the bottom of the page where Imelda had written.

"It's true." Héctor whispered, kissing your forehead.

Your face took on a deep red. Héctor smiled. He always seemed to smile around you, and his face always seemed a little redder around you, and he was a little more friendly and happy around you. It made sense.

"I love you, Y/N. You're my world, my sun and moon and stars, the air I breathe and the very ground I walk on! You are the birds that sing in the trees, the cold winter and blazing summers, the life and death of the seasons in spring and fall. Beautiful sunsets and sunrises, you are sunny days and rainy ones. Everything."

God damn that musician.

"I thought you weren't a man of words."

You didn't know what to say.