Oneshots and Imagines (COCO)

Héctor X Depressed!Fem!Reader

This was suggested by GamerBlu! Thank you!!

24. "It's six o'clock in the morning, you're not having vodka."
66. "How could I ever forget you?"

You were lying in the hammock, a half-empty bottle of vodka lying at your feet, an empty shot glass in your hand.

Creaking, screeching hinges of an opening door, footsteps against a rotting floor, fuzzy speaking as someone grabbed the glass from you.

"It's six in the morning, señorita, you're not having vodka." Héctor whispered, moving hair out of your face.

You faked a smile and tried to grab the glass back. "Too late! I am druuuunk alrready!"

Héctor sighed and walked out of the shack. You thought you could hear him say something to Chicharròn before walking back in with a bottle of water.

He sat down next to you and passed the water. "Drink."

You rolled your eyes, but began sipping the water anyways.

"How many did you have?"

"I.. don't remember."

Another sigh.

"Why are you drinking again?"

A flash of a hospital bed- an IV in your arm, unable to move, a blurry face looking at you with concern, something about meetings, what would the sponsor say, you can't do that again, stop drinking.

You choked. Héctor knew what you did in life. He knew it had carried over in your death.

"They're gonna forget me soon, Héctor. The living. They're goina forget me, and I'll be gone, and soon enough everyone else will forget me, too. You will. Chicharròn will. I'll die and this time it won't be alcohol. This time is gonna be so much worse, so why be sober?" You tried to push a smile onto your face as you choked out the words, but you ended up just crying.

Héctor tugged you out of the hammock, into a tight hug.

"How could I forget you?"

"I'm just a drunk.. I'm not that memorable. The fact I'm in this town says it too!"

Héctor squeezed you, ribs shaking with heavy breaths.

"The dead won't forget. We're familia! The fact we're dead won't change it- we'll remember. You won't die soon. We'll be here." He was whispering, you could feel him falling apart.

Maybe it was seeing him fall. Maybe it was watching as his smile fell, as he passed you the bottle of water with defeat. Maybe it was the first drink that set you off, the feeling of relief washing over you as your thoughts blurred.

Maybe it was Héctor.

The way he held so tightly, like you were already disappearing before his very eyes, fading to dust before him.

"H-Héctor.. don't cry- c-c'mon, nothings wrong.."

You cupped his cheeks. Héctor looked up at you.

"If you're drinking, everything's wrong."

"Can I kiss you?"

You hadn't meant to say it, it slipped. You had wanted to kiss him for a while.. then his lips hit yours, or whatever it would be, gently but with love and passion and care and hope. Hope for what? Hope for you to stay, hope for you to be happy.

"No more drinks, Y/N."

"Yeah. No more."

He kissed you again, on the cheek, burying his face in your shoulder.

"They'll still forget me.." You mumbled.

"You'll still be depressed, too, señorita, but we can't change that. Sometimes.. sometimes you just have to do what you can to make it bearable, and then it will get a little better."

"You sound like my therapist."

He laughed and kissed you again.

"We'll make it work. You won't be forgotten."

"Promise?"

"Promise."