Coco fanfic-To Be Forgotten

Mornings Are Horrible

Miguel's POV

I woke to light shining across my face. 'That's strange,' I thought, shifting slightly in bed, covering my head with a pillow. 'Light doesn't shine on me from the windows usually.'

I was about to drift back off to sleep, before my eyes shot open. 'Where am I?!' I sat up quickly, looking around the room I was in. There was a window with beautiful purple drapes on the wall to the left, which looked out on a street, but it was hard to see what was out there with the sun in my eyes. A tall, wooden dresser stood in the corner of the room, with detailed carvings of leaves and roses on it. There was even a vanity against the wall facing the bed that had a few bottles on it, and three long, violet ribbons.

I didn't bother to investigate the rest of the room, instead focusing on the strips of fabric. 'I know I've seen those somewhere....' I mentally struggled as I tried to discover why they seemed so familiar. 'Purple hair ribbons, who wears—oh! Those are Mamá Imelda's! So that must mean—' I glanced down at the white bedsheets around me, noticing the intricate floral designs on them in gold.

"This must be Mamá Imelda's room! I'm in la Tierra de los Muertos!"

I marveled at the strange situation, realizing how weird it was that I had technically been sleeping in a dead person's bed. Like, were all beds here technically coffins...? My living family would definitely—

My eyes widened as I remembered the events from last night. I was about to jump off the bed and run downstairs to say hi to my dead familia, when I heard a groan from beside me. Startled, I yelped, which woke the other occupant of the bed completely; the occupant I had somehow failed to notice until just then.

"Let me sleeeeeeep." The person beside me mumbled. The voice was quiet, and hard to hear, but I knew I'd recognize it anywhere—well, that and his floppy hair.

"¿iPapá Héctor?!" I shouted, a grin breaking out across my face.

Papá Héctor bolted into a sitting position when he heard me. His eyes almost fell out of his skull, they were rolling around so quickly, before finally settling on me. He flashed his pearly whites, his gold tooth shining brightly in the sunlight. "Chamaco!" He cried, gathering me into a hug so tight I couldn't take a breath without my ribs creaking, and my bruises aching horribly.

"Can't—breathe—" I wheezed, black spots edging my vision.

Papá Héctor immediately let go of me, and I gulped in air, coughing every time I fought to fill my lungs. He placed his hands on my shoulders, muttering apologies as I struggled to calm my erratic heartbeat.

"Easy, Mijo, easy." He soothed, rubbing circles on my back as he muttered apologies. I took comfort in the physical touch, and could practically feel every tense muscle in my body relaxing under his bones. After the past couple of weeks I'd had, it felt good to know I was safe, and that everything was fine, if just for a moment.

It'd felt like the weight of the world was on my shoulders ever since Día de los Muertos. First it was getting the blessing, then getting Papá Héctor's foto on the ofrenda, then making sure he wasn't forgotten, then trying to clear his name. 'The list goes on and on! I—I can't do this anymore!' I swallowed the lump in my throat, wishing I could hide from the world under the bed covers and never come back out.

'I don't know what to do! I'm just a kid!' I sniffled, trying to fight back tears. 'How am I supposed to do this all on my own?'

I looked up at Papá Héctor, wondering if he had any advice. He was still rubbing my back though, and was saying something else besides the same calming mantras now.

"It's alright, Mijo, I've got you. I'm here. It'll be fine. I'm not going anywhere." He whispered quietly, patting my back a few times before wrapping his arms around me again. Sighing, I melted into his arms like honey, choosing to allow myself to enjoy this moment.