Eres mi estrella fugaz mi amor

Book of Life

Language: English

Rating: T

Pairing: La Muerte/ Xibalba / Gravepainters

Summary: My Darling, You are My Shooting Star; if there was one thing that Xibalba was, it wasn't blind. An idiot, sure, but not blind. He could see how his wife tried to hide her wistful looks whenever something romantic happened in the mortal realm, and the incident with Malolo and Maria certainly sealed it. He could almost see her sideways glares of "See? That's how you romance someone."

You are My Shooting Star, My Love

Xibalba, the ruler over the Realm of the Forgotten, was many things. Everything bad in the world and tar made his existence entirely, humanity and mortality to him was a game that passed quickly, one that he thought entirely amusing but a waste of potential. He's existed for centuries before any had been born, humanity only a thought and a speck in the greater scheme of immortality that stalled it.

He glanced over to his darling, beautiful wife, who was everything wonderful that came out of the human world. Her face lit up from the candles underneath them as they looked over the festivities of el Día de los Muertos, the Day of the Dead. The only time they were able to interact with the living realm. She couldn't help the soft look that entered into her lively, fiery eyes as a young man proposed to his love in front of his entire family, dead and alive.

Yes, Xibalba was many things, but he wasn't blind.

He took her small, delicate and decorated hands into his larger, grotesque ones and briefly he wondered if they were fated to be, opposites entirely—or if there was someone better for her. Surely not the Candlemaker, that buffoon didn't deserve the literal goddess standing at his side.

Then again, Xibalba didn't deserve her either.

He looked out over the large crowd, enjoying themselves, he then glanced down at the graves that represented La Muerte and himself, hers of course was alive with fire and gifts, love and light. His, to his surprise, had a lone old man in front of it, lighting a single candle.

"I'll leave you for a moment my Darling," he whispered in her ear, ghosting his lips against her cheek and then he was gone.

La Muerte touched her cheek, watching with bated breath as her beloved was gone in a blink of an eye.

Xibalba raised himself behind the grave stone that represented him, and he watched the old man who bowed his head with a smile towards the candle. The old man raised his head and looked Xibalba in the eye, and it was then he knew it was Joaquín. The eye patch gave it away.

"Hello, old friend." The mortal murmured, standing up on shaky old knees and looking up to the god. Xibalba seemed perturbed by Joaquín's familiarity with him—but he should've expected as much from him.

"If I remember correctly, I ruined your life. I don't quite think that makes us friends."

"Ah, but mi amigo, you've helped me throughout my life, how could I think of you as anything else?"

Xibalba was visibly taken aback by this, he glanced around, wondering if any other mortals could see him tonight.

"Celebrating the life of your dear friends?"

"Sí, Manolo and Maria, wonderful friends. Seems almost ironic that I lived longer than they did."

Joaquín chuckled dryly, shaking his head and his beard swayed with him. He peered up at Xibalba.

"Not a part of your doing, I hope?"

Xibalba had to think for a second, but no, it wasn't.

He shook his head.

Joaquín nodded slowly, folding his hands behind his back as he glanced at the loving crowd behind him, he looked back up at Xibalba.

"How far we've both come," he said softly, the large god slowly crossed his arms and nodded.

"Tell me, how did your life turn out?"

The old man sighed and looked up towards La Muerte, who didn't see them. Xibalba wondered for a second if Joaquín could see her too, but after studying the man he decided that the mortal couldn't see her.

"Wonderful. I had a loving wife and a caring family."

Xibalba scanned the crowd, but he didn't see any that looked related to Joaquín.

Joaquín's smile tensed, "Well, mostly caring. They're visiting their mama's grave."

"Joaquín… How, how did you meet your wife?"

The old man smiled and slowly sat at the edge of the grave where he lit the candle.

"My dear Rosa, as beautiful as the flower she was named after. Ran into her completely by accident at a bar on one of my travels." He sighed wistfully. "She knocked me in the chin with her fist and I've loved her ever since."

Seeing the obvious confusion on the god's face, Joaquín chuckled. "Confused on how she punching me in my beautiful chin led me to agreeing to be my wife?"

"Not out of duty, right?"

"No, not out of duty. Out of love."

Xibalba's arms still crossed, he gestured for him to continue.

"I wooed her with not a song, but a dance. Manolo had a way with words, but gestures can be just as powerful to the heart as a song."

Xibalba's interest sparked.

"Love sweeps you off your feet, yes, so can dancing. What is more fun than swinging along the dancefloor to joyful music with the one you love? Whispering sweet words into their ear and leaning in for a sweet kiss." Joaquín sighed contentedly, standing up with creaking bones and a tired smile.

Xibalba realized just how old Joaquín was in that moment, had they been ignoring their duties as gods of death?

"I hope my story helped any troubles in your heart, mi amigo." And he waddled off with a limp in his leg from an old injury to his knee. How many years ago had that been now? Too many, it seemed.

Xibalba followed him silently throughout the crowds, curiosity and duty burning at him.

La Muerte saw him finally, and her eyes narrowed in annoyance as she saw that her love was following an old man.

"Xibalba, you better not do what I think you'll do." She growled through clenched teeth and balled fists. Her body rooted to the spot as she watched him.

Xibalba was in a trance now, needing to see more of this curious mortal's life.

He stopped short when Joaquín stopped in front of a grave, and was enveloped in a hug from twin children, and then greeted softly by a large family gathered around a grave.

Xibalba's hand raised.

La Muerte glared at him, getting ready to intervene- How dare he take a mortal on Día de los Muertos!

But as Joaquín smiled at his grandchildren, greeted his daughters and sons, and was finally a part of a big, loving family, Xibalba hesitated.

He slowly backed away; the children started to dance around him, an adult male had a guitar and played a tune. Xibalba cradled the hand to his chest, looking down at a lone flower petal he hadn't realized got caught there.

La Muerte. The same kind that was a part of her. He turned, and caught her eye. She stared down at him with her fists by her side and her head up in defiance.

Xibalba turned away, and then was gone.

The Land of the Forgotten; it was a dark and dismal place; frankly, one that La Muerte really didn't enjoy visiting. She hated that her love had to be here all the time, and it was here that she had found him. He was hunched over in his throne he had crafted out of stone, cradling the one lone flower petal in his hand as he thought.

"Mi amor?" she quietly spoke, but he didn't look up at her.

"Mi amor," he replied back softly, tucking the petal back into his robes.

"What happened tonight?" She whispered, and he shook his head slowly.

"Something I will talk with you about later," he replied back softly, looking up to her finally.

"Of course," she nodded, but she chewed at the bottom of her lip. She wanted to know, desperately, but she resigned herself from bothering him too much. He said he would talk to her about it, she just had to trust him. "Balby?" She approached him slowly. He followed her movements with his eyes, she slowly reached out and traced her decorated hand along his face.

Instantly he relaxed into her, and gently laid his over hers.

"You're too good for me, my dearest." He sighed, gently kissing the back of her hand.

She smiled softly and brought his head towards hers, she kissed his forehead and slowly backed away from him, her hand falling to her side.

"Feel better soon, my love."

And she was gone, in a burst of her beautiful, so beautiful, flower petals.

Xibalba sighed once again.

Yes, she was everything good from the human world, and he didn't deserve her.

Xibalba was many things, but he wasn't blind. He knew he had been lacking in trying to romance his dear wife all over again, and frankly falling flat. Joaquín's words echoed through his mind then, about dancing. Had Xibalba actually danced before? Could La Muerte dance?

He looked to the old, decorated man and his new found designs. Joaquín looked at himself, and then up to Xibalba.

"Manolo said he went to the land of the remembered first, why am I here?"

Xibalba sighed.

"I- I need your help."

Joaquín smiled, "Then for you, mi amigo, I know just who else to ask. But you'll need to find them for me."

Xibalba sighed.

"Of course."

Manolo and Maria manifested from the ground, and they both gasped when they saw Xibalba and Joaquín.

"Joaquín!" Maria said, walking up to him slowly. Manolo grabbed his friend into a hug.

"You look so old!" Manolo laughed heartedly, Maria punched him in the shoulder.

"Manolo!" She admonished.

Joaquín only chuckled and shook his head.

"And you both look too young."

They all exchanged glances, then Maria looked up to Xibalba finally.

"Why are we here?" She pointed to the ground they were standing on, the ground in the realm of the Forgotten. Xibalba put his hands up, and Joaquín laughed and placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Easy now, Maria. Xibalba requires help, I thought who better to help him then we?"

"Why should we help him?" Maria ground out, glaring at the god.

"He needs help with-" Joaquín started, but Xibalba held up his hand and interjected.

"I require assistance with wooing my wife all over again."

"Your wife?" Manolo asked, obvious confusion written all over his face.

"La Muerte," Maria said slowly. She sighed.

"I don't deserve her, I wish to make it up to her."

Maria ground and rubbed at her face.

"Fine!" She glared up at Xibalba, and then sighed. "What are we doing?"

Xibalba pointedly looked at Joaquín then, "please, teach me how to dance."

How dare he!

La Muerta was fuming as she stomped up the steps to Xibalba's castle, her candles burning brighter with her rage building rage.

Take some of my souls!

She got to the top and faced him, ready to slap him into another dimension. One where she would never have to see him again.

But she stopped short, confusion overlapping her anger but fueling her rage all the more as Manolo started playing his guitar.

"You!" She pointed an accusing finger at him, stepping towards him threateningly. "Taking MY souls!"

The fire burned brighter, but Xibalba reached through the flames raising from her and gently took her hand and kissed it.

"I'm ready to talk if you will listen," he peered up to her, his mouth ghosting over her hand. She peered over to the other three, before sighing and shaking her head slowly.

"Fine."

The guitar started playing again, and Xibalba took her hand and brought her close to his chest with his other hand on her hip.

"Xibalb-" but she was silenced by him humming softly, and they started to sway slowly. La Muerta looked over to Maria, who smiled softly and hummed along as well.

Joaquín was right, it was rather fun to just move along the dancefloor with your love, and whisper something sweet in her ear.

Even after the three souls returned to the Land of the Remembered they stood there going in circles to silence, in the circle of flowers and candles that Joaquín made.

"Xibalba," La Muerte giggled, tracing his face with the back of her hand. He melted into her touch. "What has gotten into you?"

"I'm sorry for keeping things from you, mi amor. I didn't know what I was going through, I'm sorry for worrying you so." He kissed her cheek softly. "I'm also sorry for angering you." He grinned down at her and she smacked his cheek playfully.

"You foolish, stubborn man."

Xibalba's smile tensed at that.

"Indeed, a very foolish one that doesn't deserve you-"

"-Xibalba-" La Muerte started but he took her hand and kissed her wrist.

"Please, my love, let me speak."

She bit her lip, but nodded slowly. They stood apart from each other, holding hands as she gazed up at him expectantly.

"I don't deserve you." He started, a shaky breath and peered at her. She looked uncomfortable, but he needed to continue. "You are everything good from the human world, and so-so patient with me, more than I deserve."

"Xibalba…" She stepped closer to him.

"I haven't been good to you these last couple centuries, I realized that. I've done a lot of reflecting on myself, and I'm not perfection."

Her raised eyebrow at him and amused smile made him feel better.

"Really, I'm not." He chuckled, "But you, my dear, are. That's why I asked for help today from Joaquín. And… Well, I…"

"Yes?" She prodded, looking up at him, stepping closer. He breathed deeply, smiling softly and hugged her to him tightly.

"Eres mi estrella fugaz mi amor." He whispered in her ear, and her heart stopped.

"I'm a lot of things, a son of a donkey comes to mind." He smiled at her embarrassed look. "But, I'm also very much in love with you."

"As I am with you," she sighed, their foreheads touching and their hands intertwined. "We will never be perfect, but together we can try to be the best version for each other as we can be."

"We'll get this right," he smiled crookedly.

"Eventually." She nodded.

Simply, they kissed in agreement, as a promise to better the other while working on themselves.