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Joaquín walks determinedly down the street, towards Casa Sánchez. They had all been sure María was dead after being bitten by that snake, but she was only in some sort of trance. Joaquín woke her up! He was the hero of San Angel, and if he had woken up María, he could wake up Manolo!
He thinks back to the last thing he said to Manolo.
"It should have been me."
"Yes. It should have."
He had lashed out in grief and misplaced anger. It was an utterly cruel thing to say, and after the worst of the grief had passed he regretted it immensely. It wasn't the truth, it was just meant to hurt. Joaquín was trying to come up with the words to apologize, when the news of Manolo's death came.
But it would all be okay now. He would kiss Manolo's forehead, just like he had done to María. Manolo would wake up and Joaquín would apologize, and everything would be okay again.
He would marry María, with Manolo by his side as his best man, like he had always dreamed. Afterwards, Joaquín and María would live in his family home, and their best friend would come visit them every day. They'd have children and grandchildren, and all three of them would grow old together. (Manolo never has a wife in these fantasies, though sometimes curly haired children play with his own)
Joaquín reaches the door to his friend's house. He knocks impatiently, his mind buzzing. Carlos pulls open the door, his shoulders slumped and his face looking like he's aged 10 years.
"I need to see Manolo."
Carlos waves him inside. It's clear he has no will or energy to question Joaquín, and Joaquín isn't going to pause in his mission, not even for a second. His mind is solely focused on Manolo.
He steps into Manolo's bedroom. The sight before him is painful, though he knows it's only temporary. His best friend is lying on his bed, completely still and seemingly lifeless. Manolo is a mirror image of what María looked like not an hour before.
Joaquín takes a deep breath, and moves to the side of the bed. He bends down, eyes squeezed tightly shut, and places a firm kiss on Manolo's forehead. Quickly springing back up, he watches Manolo with anticipation.
...
...
...
Nothing changes. Manolo doesn't open his eyes, his chest doesn't rise and fall with new breath, and Joaquín's heart sinks down to his boots.
"I must have done it wrong," he mutters, trying to reassure himself. "How, exactly, did I kiss María?"
He shuffles around a little, trying to replicate the precise position he took at María's bedside. Once Joaquín is satisfied with his stance, he takes a few breaths to calm his racing heart.
"This time it will work. It'll work, it'll work, it'll work," he whispers, almost pleadingly.
He bends down over Manolo again, this time slower. His eyes stay open, and he kisses his forehead gently, on the place where he remembers kissing María. He's close enough that he can feel the medals on his jacket brush against Manolo's arm. Joaquín is certain that this time he's got it right, this time Manolo will wake up.
...
...
...
Tears start dripping down Joaquín's face. His breathing gets faster and more panicked. The body beneath him is completely still. Desperately, he kisses another spot on Manolo's forehead. And another, and another. He moves down to Manolo's cheeks and covers his entire face in frantic, distraught kisses.
A shaking hand comes up to cradle Manolo's jaw. Joaquín presses his lips to Manolo's, trying to pour all the love he feels for him into his lifeless body. Praying that the trance will break.
The kiss ends, and Joaquín rests forehead to forehead with Manolo. He realizes two awful, gut-wrenching truths.
Joaquín loves Manolo with all of his heart, and Manolo is never going to wake up.