Hello!! Welcome to my account, where it’s all things Disney channel. This blog will most likely be dedicated to Disney Latin America since it’s my latest obsession. Fun facts about me is I can speak both English and Spanish. Tik tok (@ali.vs)
For the entire weekend, Simón spent more time in his room than out of it.
He heard of Michel's departure from other people rather than realizing it himself, but it seemed like the guy didn't like goodbyes to begin with, so almost no one saw him leave anyway.
Near catatonic under the covers, Simón couldn't help but agree with his sentiment.
He didn't like goodbyes either.
____________
At some point during the first day, Simón sat up a little and grabbed his phone.
The light from the screen hurt his eyes, but he still searched for the messages app and opened the group chat of the Roller Team.
S: I broke up with Ámbar
Simón stared at the phrase like in some kind of out-of-body experience. He couldn't believe he was typing those words. Couldn't believe it was true.
He took a deep breath to fortify himself and keep typing.
S: I broke up with Ámbar. I don't want any questions. I'm only telling you all so you know that we're going to need some space
He sent the message before he could second-guess it.
Then he turned off his phone and went back to sleep.
____________
Whenever Simón wasn't sleeping, he was staring at the wall.
When he wasn't staring at the wall, it was because he was crying.
The only time he wasn't sleeping, or staring at the wall, or crying, was the three minutes in which he got up to go to the bathroom, around nighttime.
At least, he thought it was night. It could've been two in the afternoon. It could've been two in the morning. With the curtains closed, he had no way to know. He didn't care either way.
When he came out of the bathroom, Luna was standing outside of his bedroom door.
He didn't know how she knew he had left his room. The two looked at each other across the hall. Simón didn't know what expression was on his face, nor did he care. He didn't try to show anything in particular. He did nothing. He just looked at her.
Luna didn't say a word. She just went over to him and hugged him tight.
Affection.
Support.
Both things sank into his depths and managed to reach him.
Simón hugged her back and wept.
______________
The second day was more of the same.
He was forced to eat, though. In the morning, someone left a trolley outside his door. He didn't touch most of it.
At lunch, Pedro knocked at his door until he opened, and then didn't leave until he saw him take at least three bites of the food.
Luna came to invite him for dinner, but he said he wasn't hungry.
He slept some more.
________________
Coming Monday, life had to go on.
Simón took a shower, got dressed, and went down for breakfast.
He took his friends by surprise, who got up quickly from their seats when they saw him enter the dining room.
"Simón," Matteo said.
"We didn't know if you'd show up", Pedro said. "You didn't answer any of our texts."
Simón blinked.
"Ah." He pulled his phone out of his jeans pocket. "Yeah, I forgot to turn it on, sorry."
The screen lit up.
"How are you?" Pedro asked him.
"I know you said no questions, but you can tell us that at least, right?" Matteo said.
A bunch of unread messages showed up on his phone. He didn't look at any of them before turning off the screen.
Simón looked up at his friends. "I'm good." He pocketed his phone. "Calm."
He sat at the table. His friends shared a look while he served himself some breakfast.
"Right," Matteo said. "Mind trying that one more time with a little less lies this time?"
The word 'lies' sent an electric shock through his system.
Simón put the bread on his hand back on the plate.
He breathed in.
"Okay."
He put his hands on the table and looked at the guys.
"I'm not okay. I won't be okay for some time. But it'll pass. And it'll pass for Ámbar too. And then everything will be fine," he declared. "Okay? Don't worry about it."
He got back to his breakfast.
Silence reigned for a moment.
"It was because of the whole Sharon thing, right?" Matteo asked.
There was no point in not answering. "Broadly speaking, yes."
"But not because you think she's back to doing bad things, right?" Pedro said. "Cause, I mean, if that were the case, she would've been better off not saying anything. It'd make no sense for her to tell you all of that."
"No. I just can't be with someone whom I don't trust."
There was a silence once again.
In his peripheral vision, he saw Pedro nod.
"Makes sense."
They didn't broach the subject again.
________________
When he and Pedro arrived at the Roller, Ámbar wasn't there.
Simón felt relieved. Any extra minute he got to prepare himself before seeing her again was very appreciated. He was scared his heart would break all over again just from that. He had tried to fortify himself as much as possible prior to this— he refused to cry at the job, but it was a possibility.
He didn't know how this would go. Would they ignore each other? Act like the other wasn't there? No, he didn't think so. If they had had a bad breakup, maybe, but… Simón didn't want things to go that way. He doubted Ámbar wanted it either.
He told himself he'd greet her when he saw her. Even if it hurt. Even if it was very uncomfortable. He was going to try for this to be as amiable as possible. It was the only way to avoid making it traumatic for both of them.
Hours went by, and Simón stayed on edge, dreading the moment he'd have to interact with Ámbar.
But then the day was over, and Ámbar never showed up.
_____________
The next day, the same thing happened.
Simón walked into the Roller with his heart beating rapidly only to find it empty. The hours went by, and the place filled up, but none of the people who occupied the space was Ámbar.
Simón even went down for dinner for the first time in days, thinking he might see her there, but her seat remained empty. Apparently, he wasn't the only one who'd been taking all his meals in his room.
His food tasted like dirt when he learned that.
_______________
It was on the third day of nothing when he couldn't hold it back anymore.
"Pedro," he turned to his friend while they worked. "Have you talked with Delfi?" He grimaced. "I mean, of course you've talked with Delfi. I mean, have you…? Do you know…?"
Pedro gave him a sad smile and put him out of his misery. "She's working from home. Now, if your question is how she is doing, I think you know the answer to that."
…Right.
Yeah, he knew.
Simón spent the rest of the day trying to decide how he felt about Ámbar's prolonged absence. The relief was still there to a certain degree, except… no, he didn't feel at ease with this. Not seeing her at all was strange, and if he was honest with himself, a little distressing.
Maybe very distressing.
Yes, he was scared of seeing her, of course he was. He got a surge of anxiety every time he thought about how awkward it was going to be around her from now on, not to mention painful, but being unable to see her? To check on her with his own eyes? To feel her presence?
It made him think of a world where they never saw each other again. Where Ámbar kept working from home, or straight up quit this job and started doing something else somewhere else in the world, and he no longer had her in his life.
He didn't want that. He might have broken up with her, but losing her completely had never been part of the plan.
Simón's eyes burned, and he had to force himself to think of something else lest he started crying non-stop again.
He had made a decision.
He had to live with that.
_____________
His mind was whirling with so many thoughts the next morning that he almost collided with Pedro on his way to the bathroom.
"Wow!"
"Sorry, I didn't see you there," he said to his friend.
"No worries, it takes me a while to wake up too," Pedro said with a little laugh.
Simón noticed that he was carrying towels and clothes just like himself.
Pedro seemed to realize the same thing at the same time. “Oh, uh… you go first," he took a step back, "I can wait.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, no problem.” With a little smile, Pedro walked back into his room.
Simón entered the bathroom, feeling a little bad. He was sure the guys must have figured out a bathroom schedule so this didn't happen every morning, but now they had to account for him. He also held no doubts as to why Pedro didn’t even hesitate before giving him the bathroom. It was one of the hundred little things his friends had been doing lately to be considerate of him.
After taking care of basic needs, Simón turned on the shower and got undressed while the water heated up. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he did so, and his eyes fell on the cluster of tiny spots on his right upper arm.
“Are these sunspots or have they always been there?”
It was one of their many nights together, the two of them enjoying a quiet afterglow in bed. They were lying next to each other, sharing body warmth and light touches.
Ámbar was running the tips of her fingers over his right arm when she asked the question. Simón guessed that, since his t-shirts usually covered it, she didn’t get to see the little spots often, and now she'd grown curious.
“That? I’ve had them since I can remember.”
Ámbar smiled looking at them. “So we both have birthmarks.”
She looked very pleased about that fact.
“Yours is pretty though,” he said. “Mine’s more like a stain.”
“No.” Ámbar kissed it. “It’s a part of you, so it’s pretty.”
Simón felt like he'd been struck in the heart.
“Mine is like a simplistic representation of a star," Ámbar kept saying, "but yours could be the image of real ones. Like a constellation, or a galaxy.” She traced the spots with a fingertip. “See, this part here is Ursa Major. We've got Scorpio over here. And right here is Leo, the best one, because it’s my sign.”
Simón stared at her face as she kept drawing constellations on his skin, his chest tight to the point that it hurt. He got a lump in his throat. All he could think was, Fuck. I love her.
Please let this be forever, he remembered wishing back then, praying to whoever could hear it. I don’t want to lose her.
He forced a little chuckle (breathy, way too breathy) to lighten things up. “Do you even know what any of the constellations you’ve just mentioned looks like?”
Ámbar smirked then, that beautiful smile that was so hers, with the little glint of mischief in her eyes. “No. But that’s exactly why I can make the rules.”
Like jerking a hand away from a hot surface, Simón shook himself out of the memory and got in the shower.
It was ridiculous how often he'd been remembering things like that. Sleeping in the same room in which they'd shared moments together didn't help, obviously, but even if he took that out of the equation, it was like everything reminded him of her— a smell, a sound, a piece of clothing.
(He still had clothes in Ámbar's room. One of these days, he was going to have to ask Luna to get them for him.)
He even missed the moisturizer she used. Growing up around women, Simón had always been drilled about the importance of sunscreen, moisturizing, exfoliating, and all that, but it wasn’t until Ámbar that he really gave skincare a try. She had all these products, and she took such good care of her face, and he couldn't help but think— What if by forty he looked like a raisin and she was still just as beautiful? Would she still want him then?
Simón sighed now and washed his face with just plain water. It was very ironic, really, how worried he used to be about her leaving him, about them lasting in the long run, only for him to break up with her.
So ironic.
If only he could laugh.
___________
Ámbar was there when he got to the Roller.
Simón's feet came to a stop and his heart skipped a beat inside his chest. Their eyes met and held, and his pulse quickened.
He was happy to see her. For one mindless moment, the beating of his heart wasn't nerves or anxiety but pure joy.
She's here. She's okay. She's not gone. Oh, I missed her.
Then the moment was over and tension took over his body like drying concrete.
Ámbar looked… well, she always looked pretty. Her hair was up in a ponytail, which he'd always thought made her look a certain way, and the thought crossed his mind quick and unabidden that it wasn't fair.
She also looked tired but composed. She was wearing that specific armor she put on whenever she wanted to look strong while feeling anything but.
He didn't need to think very hard to know why that was.
Ámbar left her work table and stood in front of them. "Good morning, guys." Her gaze went to Pedro for a second before returning to Simón. Level, stoic, not showing anything. "Simón, can we talk?"
Simón felt as unbalanced as if he were standing in a raft in the middle of the sea.
He glanced at Pedro, trying to find his footing.
"Um, we have to get everything ready for when customers arrive..."
"It's just a few minutes," she said. "Please?"
A bit of nerves slipped through her defenses and showed in her eyes, and that was the rope Simón could finally hold onto.
He wasn't alone in this. That was probably a weird thought to have, but weird or not, it was comforting.
"Um… Okay."
With one last glance at Pedro, he followed Ámbar into the dressing room, and the door closed on them, leaving them alone.
It was the first time they were alone since…
God, it still felt strange to think about.
Simón didn't know what to do with his body. He felt like a marionette whose strings had been cut for the first time and didn't know how to act human on its own. He changed the weight between his feet. Put his hands inside his pockets. Pulled them out. He leaned one on one of the mirrors, feeling like he needed a stronghold to keep him steady. His eyes went from Ámbar to anything else. More on anything else than her.
Ámbar broke the silence.
"I read a lot yesterday."
That sentence was so different from anything he expected her to say that Simón finally set his eyes on her.
Ámbar wasn't looking at him. She had her gaze on a holder full of makeup brushes, while her thumb caressed the bristles of a fluffy one back and forth. Maybe she found the softness soothing.
"Did you know that around 60% of marriages survive an infidelity? Of course, 'survive' is not the same as being happy, but those couples who went to couples therapy and actually did the work expressed being content and actually having a better relationship years after on 70 to 80% of cases. Now, I know we're not a marriage, and there was no infidelity," she looked at him then, "nor will there ever be, I can assure you," her hand turned into a fist over the mirror, "but I won't minimize your pain and say it wasn't similar. So, I think the statistics are applicable here."
There was a pause, and silence filled the room like water, similarly asphyxiating.
Simón couldn't have formed words with a gun to his head.
Ámbar took a step closer to him. "What I mean to say, basically, is that we don't need to break up. Everything suggests that, as long as we both want it, and work for it, and deal with the discomfort, we can be okay again. Better than ever, even."
Her hands cupped his face. They were cold.
"What do you say?" A tiny smile tugged up her lips, a flash of playfulness going through her eyes, joining the hope there. "I could pay for couples therapy; I've got no issue with that. And there's no need for you to trust my word right now, you can just… trust the math."
Simón gulped. He was vaguely aware that he was shaking, but his mind felt eerily still, like his thoughts had to go through mud to finish forming.
"Ámbar… going to couples therapy for a one-month relationship would be crazy."
"No, it's a solution," she said, bringing her hands down to hold his own. "Neither of us know how to fix this— Well, that's why there are professionals. It could help us. Weren't you the one who said it was a good thing to accept help from others?"
"Yeah, but…"
The pause went on for too long.
"But what?" Ámbar asked.
Simón took a step back, pulling their hands apart. "I- I don't know, Ámbar, I don't think so."
He couldn't look at her. He couldn't see what kind of face she might be making. Maybe he should've been elated that she was saying these things, that she was willing to do that much to get him back, but his nervous system didn't get the memo, making him feel like he was being chased by a wild animal instead.
"Well, it's okay if you don't want to right away," Ámbar said after a moment, all soft and understanding, and Simón wanted to tear his heart out. "Everything is too fresh still, maybe. You can take some time to think about it, and then—"
"No." He clenched his hand around the dressing table's edge and looked up at her. "No, I already thought about it, and I think…" He swallowed, preparing to say what he'd decided in the solitude of his room. "I feel that the best option for us both is to be friends."
The one thing that could be heard for a very long moment was the sound of Pedro arranging chairs outside.
"...Friends?" Ámbar didn't try to hide her incredulity and disgust in that word.
"Yeah. I-I know it hurts too much right now," he looked down for a second, "but with time, it will get easier. And I think it's better to treasure the fact that we still care about each other and cut our losses right now than risk ruining everything in a way we can't take back—"
Ámbar was already shaking her head before he even finished.
"No. I refuse to be your friend, and you don't want to be my friend, Simón, you never have, so don't start spitting lies now, saying that you do," she spat out, angry.
"It's better than the alternative."
"What? Being together?"
"No, both of us hating each other." He looked hard into her eyes, begging her to understand. "Ámbar, being in a relationship without trust is a recipe for disaster— Just think about everything that could go wrong. I could turn into one of those boyfriends who go, 'Send me a selfie next to the microwave so I know you really are where you say you are', and you're not going to want to live like that, and I don't want to live like that either."
"It doesn't have to be like that if we don't let it," she argued with a touch of pleading in her tone.
"And it won't be like that guaranteed if we leave things as they are now."
The silence was a different kind this time. The one that followed the end of something, cold and absolute. He had brought down the gavel and delivered sentence.
Ámbar appealed anyway.
"Simón," she started, each word slow and laden with meaning, "you've spent your whole life being brave. You got on a plane and moved to a different country like it was nothing. You see the best in people, always, and you never let anything or anyone knock you down without getting back on your feet again. And you're going to stop all of that now?"
There was no missing the judgement in her voice, one that hid an even deeper hurt.
You're going to stop all of that now that I need you? Now that it's about us?
A tiny, soft part of him wavered, the one that maybe would always belong to her.
But the rest—
"Yes," he replied firmly.
The rest burned with righteous indignation and called for his autonomy, for his wish to come first, at least once.
"I put my trust in you many times, Ámbar. Now every bone in my body is telling me that I'd have to be very stupid to do that again."
Ámbar's face fell, something in her eyes cracking before his very eyes.
Part of him cried seeing it.
"I'm sorry," he said.
Simón left the dressing room.
*****************
The thing that broke Ámbar that fatidic night was something so silly, so inconsequential in the face of everything else, that seeing it from the outside, it could've looked completely ridiculous.
Not that she had been what you could call 'fine' before it, but she had been… protected, perhaps, by a thick layer of shock and denial.
It couldn't all have ended with one conversation, a part of her brain kept claiming. It was unnatural. It was too quick. It couldn't be over just like that.
And then, as she was drowning in thoughts of everything that had been and might never be again, she remembered—
I never made him pancakes.
Like they had been waiting at the edge of creation, tears stung and gathered at the corners of Ámbar's eyes.
Why didn’t she make him pancakes? He was right there. She told herself she’d do it for him. Any day, literally any day, she could’ve just told him to accompany her to the kitchen and shown him what she’d learned from Mónica. Why didn’t she do it?
We had beautiful days together and I didn’t take full advantage of them.
By the time that thought crossed her mind, Ámbar was crying in earnest. Sobs shook her body, and she turned into a ball in her bed, helpless to the crushing wave of sadness, self-reproach, and frustration that filled her from the inside out, squeezing her ribs until it was hard to breathe.
She tried to stop. Somewhere in her mind, she knew she wasn’t being fair with herself— She had enjoyed those days with him, just differently. But in the knowledge that she no longer had him, she couldn’t help but feel like she hadn’t done enough, like she hadn’t really taken in how happy she was when she had him by her side.
She sank into a pit of misery she hadn't felt since she found out she wasn't Sol Benson. Mónica came to see her at some point, and Ámbar only saw her because she had forgotten to lock her door and she didn't have the strength to get up and stop her from entering.
She tried to ask Ámbar what was wrong, but Ámbar couldn't tell her. Saying it would've made it real.
Then her phone started filling with messages some undetermined amount of time later, and Ámbar barely got to wonder how her friends knew before she read the answer in one of Delfi's messages.
Simón.
Simón told them.
Ámbar had to sit with that for a moment. It hit her so quickly, so deadly, that her brain struggled to process it for a few seconds.
Simón told them.
She didn't want it to be real, and he told everyone they knew.
Things went blurry from there. She knew she ate some stuff Mónica brought her in trays, and that if it weren't for that, she wouldn't have eaten at all.
Ramiro and Delfi came to see her. She had still not locked her goddamned door.
It was Delfi who suggested not everything was permanently lost yet. She told her to stay positive, that maybe in time things could be fixed. Ámbar couldn't see how.
So, she googled it.
Of course, every website she read didn't guarantee everything would be alright. It was emphasised, actually, repeatedly, that rebuilding trust was a slow, painful process. It could take from eight months to several years. In some cases, the healthiest choice was to move on.
But it wasn't impossible.
Ámbar clung to that. She clung to it like the last canteen of water in a desert. Like the only coin in the hands of a beggar. Like she was hanging from the end of a cliff.
She might as well have been.
Her energy returned. Her appetite came back, fueled by hope. She had a purpose. A way out. They had a way out.
Everything was going to be okay. They still loved each other. The one thing all the websites underlined was that both parties had to be willing to do the work to fix it, and she knew they were.
It didn't cross her mind Simón's answer might be no.
_______________
Ámbar locked her bedroom door upon entering and crawled into her bed, hugging her knees not out of cold but for some modicum of comfort.
She hadn't been able to stay at the Roller for too long, and felt utterly pathetic about that. She'd already shown her face there— she should've stuck with that decision until the end of the day. It was so humiliating to think Pedro knew she had come just to leave five minutes later.
But after her conversation with Simón, she couldn't stay.
Tears filled her vision as she finally allowed the disappointment to hit her. She had been so sure it would work. It all looked so logical in her head. Simón didn't even have to trust her for it to work— he just had to be willing to try to do so.
It said a lot that he wasn't.
Ámbar took a ragged breath and wiped tears from her cheeks, only for more to come soon after. It was a special kind of devastating to have to face just how much you screwed up. To see that, even with your best intentions, you had caused a damage you couldn't take back.
She had no idea how her past self had been able to talk about it with such levity. 'What's wrong, Simón? You don't trust me? How awful of you.' It had just been a game to her. A tool for manipulation she had no qualms in using.
She didn't know. She didn't understand, wasn't aware of the atrocities she was saying, how she mocked something that should've been sacred. Simón was willing to give her chances back then. She should've realized the gift that was.
She fantasized about clawing out the eyes of that version of herself, but no good would come from it.
No, the past no longer mattered— She had to focus on what she could do now to fix the situation.
Because she would fix it, there was no other option in her mind.
She couldn't give up.
She wouldn't.
The next few days, she kept going back to Simón, trying to convince him to give them a chance.
'Tell me what can I do' She asked him.
'Nothing' He replied.
She tried every argument she could think of. She tried logic, she tried emotion.
Simón had his own logic.
“Maybe we shouldn’t have been together,” he said grimly, the yellow lights of the Roller drawing shadows on his face, the place now almost empty except for them due to the late hour. “Not until you had everything on your end figured out, at least. Maybe then we could've had a real clean slate.”
That wasn't helpful. She couldn't change the past. And even if she could, Ámbar found she wouldn't. The moments she had spent with him had been the most beautiful ones of her life, and she wouldn’t have changed them for anything in the world.
She told him that.
Simón just zipped his jacket up to his chin, buried his hands in the pockets, and asked her to close shop before he walked out.
"That's another reason why we shouldn't be together," he said in the lockers some other day. "You being my boss. I tried to ignore it, but there were times it became too glaring, and that's not… it's not healthy for a relationship."
"Do you want me to quit? I'll quit," Ámbar was quick to offer.
Simón's eyes widened. "No! No, I don't want you to quit. Do not quit for me. I'm being very serious, Ámbar. Don't even think of doing that as some sort of big romantic gesture— It would only make me feel worse."
Ámbar clenched her hands, feeling trapped. "But then, what can I do?"
Simón sighed and leaned his forearms on the counter, looking down.
"Nothing."
Nothing.
Nothing, nothing, nothing— It was a lie. She could do something. She wasn't dead, and neither was he.
In one case in particular, Ámbar's frustration got the better of her, and she exclaimed—
“Well, you’re never going to build that trust back if you don’t try!”
She was being unfair. She knew it wasn't that simple— not after everything. It was, and it wasn't. Yet, it was the only thing she had.
She softened her voice once more and pleaded. "My love, please. We could go slow. We don’t have to go back immediately to how we were before, we could just… try.”
Simón looked at her in silence for a moment.
“I love your eyes."
Ámbar frowned, unsure of where he was going with this as he brought a hand to her cheek and stared deep into them.
“They remind me of the sea in Cancún. I used to look at them and want to sink in them.”
The thumb that had been gracing her skin stopped its motion, and Simón lowered his hand.
“Now that scares me.”
Ámbar didn't know what to say.
That was the problem, that every time, she ended up without knowing what to say, like an endless chess game in which Simón always put her in check. This couldn't work without him. And no matter what she tried, she was failing to convince him.
"Maybe this is how it was supposed to go," Simón told her. "Maybe you just needed someone to show you the right path, that things could be better. And I needed someone to need me. Or believe in me." A couple of tears fell down his face. "But it was never meant to last. We just needed to teach each other some lessons. Now you can go on your next relationship and have a wonderful love cause you know what real love looks like. And I'll pursue my music dreams, and, maybe I'll meet someone along the way—"
"You really wouldn't care seeing me with someone else?" She said, with a lump so big in her throat it was a miracle she managed to speak at all.
Simón's eyes grew wetter. "Of course I would." He looked to the side, trying to find his composure even as his lips trembled. "But—"
Ámbar didn't let him finish.
She grabbed his face and kissed him hard on the mouth, pouring everything she was feeling and that she had felt the last few days into it.
She heard Simón's breath hitch. Then his arms were around her, and he kissed her back desperately. The salt mixed between their lips. It was madness, it was relief, it was salvation.
Then he pulled away.
"No." He shook his head over and over, even though he was still crying. "No, no, I can't."
"My love, please—" She tried to catch him as he got up from the bed, but he slipped through her fingers.
He grabbed the duffle bag with his things and left.
Because that was the reason he had come here— to take the last pieces she had of him, and only because she hadn't allowed Luna to do it, insisting that she'd only permit it if Simón came for them himself.
Now he had, and she no longer had any excuse to have him near her.
Face scrunched up with tears, Ámbar curled over her bed, pressing her forehead to the comforter as her hands grabbed it in fistfuls.
How many times? How many times could a heart break before it stopped working altogether? How much longer would it feel like he was ripping it out of her chest every time he left a room? She couldn't do this. She couldn't survive this.
Hard, silent sobs stole her air without granting her the mercy of stopping her breathing altogether.
Had that been their last kiss? Would there truly be nothing more between them ever again?
'Now you can have a wonderful love'
Ámbar jerked upright and threw her pillows across the room.
She didn't want another love— She wanted him! And he wanted her too! Why did he do this to them? Why? Why?!
With a groan, she pressed the meat of her hands against her eyes and tried to slow her breathing.
What she was doing wasn't working, that much was clear. In fact, maybe it was making things worse. What if Simón got sick of her with all of this? He could regret even wanting to be her friend. He could want her out of his life forever.
Fear struck Ámbar like a whip. No, no, anything but that. Losing him like that would be akin to never seeing the sun again.
She looked around her room, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth as her crying slowly subsided.
She would do what she had to do. Anything to ensure that didn't happen.
She could be patient. For him, she'd have all the patience in the world— She'd wait years for him if need be.
Because he was it for her.
She could only hope she was it for him too.
***************
Simón couldn't help but tell Pedro everything the next day.
It was the end of their work shift. Ámbar had already gone home, so it was just him and Pedro, cleaning up the place before leaving. Simón had been choking on the events of the previous night all day. His eyes had met Ámbar's a few times, completely against his conscious will, and every time his chest had hurt, and he wanted to hide, but he couldn't because he was working.
He felt like a pressure cooker. He needed to talk with someone about everything that was going on or he felt he was going to scream.
He could've talked to his family, but he didn't feel as comfortable telling them details, which was precisely why he'd only told them about the breakup two days prior. (Much to his mom's indignation. Never mind that he was so shattered he hadn't wanted to talk about it. Embarrassed to tell her when she had just spoken with Ámbar a few weeks ago.)
Besides, talking in person was different.
So, he told Pedro. He told him how Ámbar was trying to convince him things could work out. How he kept saying he'd rather they be friends because he couldn't risk ruining everything.
He told him about the kiss.
After he'd purged everything he'd felt in the rollercoaster of the last few days, he felt compelled to ask, "Do you think…?"
Do you think I made a mistake?
He had already asked himself that question a hundred times since he broke up with Ámbar. Of course he did— He still loved her. The idea of her smiling with someone else, kissing someone else, made him want to throw up and die, and he knew that if they carried on like this, separated, that would eventually happen.
There were moments when he thought—
She’s mine. She’s my Ámbar. I know her more than anyone. I love her more than anyone. And she loves me— That’s enough.
The kiss had been one of such moments of weakness.
But then he always came back down to reality and remembered that wasn't true.
Love wasn't enough.
It hadn't been the previous times. Every time he thought he could trust her, it had ended up badly. He didn't want to live with the fear of it happening again.
He wanted love, but he wanted peace too.
And he didn't know if he could ever have peace with Ámbar.
They'd had beautiful moments. He flashed back to them every time he thought this was the end. He didn't want to let them go. He wanted to live them again. He wanted to go back to that blissful ignorance that allowed him to be happy.
He heard Ámbar's voice— 'I'm asking you, please, don't let go of me.'
But every time he felt the need for her in his bones, a voice in his mind questioned: For what?
To be disappointed again?
To be lied to again?
You know the sweet moments never last.
He could be his friend. That way, he could have her at a safe distance. That way, he could keep her in his life for a long time. It had worked with Luna. It could work again, no?
But that didn't make any of this any easier.
"Do you think I'm being… mean with all of this?" He ended up saying.
Pedro frowned. "Mean?"
Simón lowered his gaze. "Ámbar has been practically begging me. And I get it; it's not like I don't understand her. I can't stop thinking that I'm hurting her, and I'm hurting myself too, but I just can't…"
His hands tightened around the broom. He thought of all the lies, all the secrets, all the hopes broken.
He couldn't go back to that.
Next to him, Pedro took a deep breath. "Okay, Simón." He grabbed a chair and straddled it backwards, laying his arms on the backrest. "Answer me something. Why, exactly, do you not want to get back together with her?"
Simón thought for a moment.
"Because… every time I've been with her, it just hurt so much."
Pedro's face didn't change its expression. He just nodded, as if he'd been expecting that answer all along. "You want to protect yourself. That's not being mean."
A knot formed in Simón's throat. "But, I just can't help thinking that I'm leaving her alone again."
"You're not leaving her alone," Pedro affirmed without missing a beat. "You said you offered to be friends with her, right? Which, by the way, is more than most exes usually do. And she has friends. And Luna's family is now her family too. Just focus on yourself. This is the first time you've even talked about this. I'm more worried about you being alone."
Simón looked up at that, meeting his friend's gaze.
Pedro's features reflected the same care in his green eyes. "Let us help, buddy. Even if it's just by listening to you like just now. If you need to talk about Ámbar a hundred times a day, I promise I don't mind, and neither of us is going to complain about it. We just want to make sure you're okay."
Simón's throat grew even tighter, but for a very different reason this time. His grip loosened on the broomstick.
"Thank you." His mouth formed a smile. "I will be."
And this time, he believed it just a little more than he did last week.
______________
Pedro and Simón returned to the mansion, wet by a bit of rain that caught them unaware on the way. Normally, Maggie would've chastised them where they stood. 'Don't spread the water on the lobby; I just mopped the floor!'
But she wasn't in the house anymore. It was one of the changes they had experienced in the last few days.
The guys went up to their room to get dry and then joined everyone down for dinner an hour later.
Ámbar was there.
Simón wasn't surprised to see her anymore. She had gone back to sharing her meals the same way as him, and so, a certain normality had been reestablished in the dining room.
If you ignored the awkwardness, that was.
Simón had considered asking Pedro to switch seats with him, but decided not to. It only would've highlighted the fact that things were different. No, he was a mature person, perfectly capable of sitting next to the girl he was no longer in a relationship with, and with whom he was still tragically in love.
If he couldn't ignore the warmth of her body next to his, well, that was his problem.
Fortunately, the rest of the people at the table made sure that there was never a lull in conversation. It made everything more manageable.
Once he finished his meal, Simón got up from the table and climbed up the stairs to go to his room.
He didn't notice someone had followed him until the voice stopped him in the hallways.
"Simón?"
Simón's heart jumped to his throat.
It raced as he turned around to face Ámbar.
"Can I speak with you?" She asked.
No, was his immediate response. No, especially after yesterday. I can't keep doing this. I can't keep picking at the scab every day. Please.
What came out of his mouth after a moment was, "Sure."
Because, apparently, he liked suffering.
Ámbar walked up to where he stood, but thankfully, kept a polite distance.
"I wanted to tell you I've decided that I'm going to be your friend," she declared. "And what happened yesterday won't happen again, don't worry."
Simón didn't quite know what to respond. What would be appropriate? 'Thank you'? It was, technically, what he wanted. Even if a needle pierced his heart at the sound of 'won't happen again'.
He was just about to attempt to say something when Ámbar took a step closer to him.
"But make no mistake; I still love you. And I'm willing to do anything to get you back. But I'm going to start by regaining the trust you lost in me. I'm going to take a step back and be your friend… until you ask me to get back together with you."
Every word was delivered with confidence and determination, even while holding such vulnerability. It was Ámbar Smith in all her glory, and for one moment, Simón lost his breath.
Her eyes were holding his so captive he couldn't even react when she leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss on his cheek.
"See you around."
Ámbar retired to her own room. Simón watched her turn the corner and go, his heart beating wildly on his chest the entire time.
With a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes and bumped his head against the wall behind him.
Shit.
…
..
.
___________
There's this quote from People We Meet on Vacation that automatically made me think of this fic:
{"I love you."
"I love you too. Love has never been our problem."}
I hope you're all liking this (even if it hurts). There is more angst coming, but remember, there will be a happy ending. I would never do what Disney did to you.
P.S: The Taylor Swift references in my mind for this chapter are Cornelia Street (for the flashback) and The Last Time.
Ever since she’d met that new guy, Simón, Ámbar kept glancing at him all the time. Like, all the time. And, sure, she guessed she could say he was good-looking—passable, at least— but he was absolutely nothing special for her to be looking at him this much. There were guys more attractive in school.
And it wasn’t only the staring. She also reacted to his voice every time she heard it, got a fluttery feeling inside every time he said hi to her, and whenever she didn’t see him, it was like her eyes searched for him everywhere until they found him, going back to square one.
It was perturbing. It wasn’t normal. He had to have done something to her, that— that Hufflepuff.
Like, HUFFLEPUFF. Was that the lamest house or what?
Slytherins were the queens and kings of the place (obviously), Ravenclaws were smart (too boring and stiff for her taste, but whatever), Gryffindors were brave (although, most of the time, annoying), but Hufflepuffs? What were Hufflepuffs even supposed to be? Nice? She could almost hear the introductions:
“In Hogwarts we have formed many famous wizards from Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. Hufflepuffs? Oh, they’re just nice.”
Yeah, no, there was no way she had feelings for a Hufflepuff.
Which brought her to the only logical conclusion:
That son of a bitch had put a spell on her somehow.
An indignant growl rose from Ámbar’s chest just thinking about it. How had she let it happen without realizing?? Was it in the quill he gave back to her? In his hand when he made her shake it? She had definitely felt a shudder there. Maybe it was some kind of love potion that was transmitted through contact. They were supposed to be banned but, come on, everyone knew they could be made or bought— especially because they were banned. People just loved breaking rules.
(Now, don’t look at her like that— She liked bending rules. When it fit her. Circumventing them, jumping over them, dancing around them— She wouldn’t just break rules. That was asking for expulsion and she wasn’t stupid.)
(…Okay, she had done it once or twice— But we were getting off topic!)
Ámbar considered telling Matteo and Ramiro so they could kick that Hufflepuff’s ass, but they’d probably tease her for the rest of her lifetime for being so stupid as to fall for it in the first place, so, better not. She would fix the problem by her own means.
Like, seriously, look at him. The criminal was currently in the middle of the central courtyard, sitting on the grass and playing guitar with a couple of other Hufflepuffs around him. What kind of person got transferred to Hogwarts, the prestigious school of witchcraft and wizardry, and brought with him a guitar? It should’ve been at least a violin, or some other instrument that required actual skill to play, if you were going to show off like that. Who did he think he was, The Weird Sisters?
…
Why couldn’t she stop looking at him?!
Yeah, she was definitely under the effects of some powerful stuff. Judging by the fact that she couldn’t avert her eyes even though there was nothing overly special about the display, and the fact that if that bitch Jazmín kept inching closer to him like that to feel up his biceps, she was going to make sure she threw up slugs for the rest of her life.
This required extreme measures, and so, Ámbar got to work.
She made every antidote to every love potion she could think of and swallowed all of them down. (This resulted in a sick stomach for the rest of the weekend, but it would be worth it.)
On Monday, she walked through the hallways with her chin held high, as it should be, steps sure and confident.
She didn’t see Simón all morning, which was very lucky for him because she was ready to tear him apart now that she was in control again. He was going to regret crossing her. Nobody messed with Slytherin’s queen.
“Hey, Ámbar!”
Ah, there he is.
Ámbar turned towards the voice with a wide smile on her face, which anyone who knew her would recognize not as a genuine sign of a good mood but as a sign of imminent danger.
She froze, however, when she took in the sight in front of her, and her hostile expression fell into complete disarray.
Simón was wet from the waist up. His white uniform shirt was soaked through and sticking to his golden-brown skin, showing off the lines and contours of a lean but well-defined body. He ran a hand through his hair to push the wet strands away from his eyes and smiled at Ámbar.
“We’re playing with some spells by the lake, and, as you can see, things have gotten a little crazy.” He laughed. “Do you want to join us?”
Ámbar stood there with her heart trying to escape her chest and her mouth as dry as parchment.
F*CK ME, WHY DIDN’T IT WORK?!
“Ggrh!!” She groaned in pure frustration and walked quickly away from there.
There was no way, no way, no way! She had drunk every antidote in the books! She shouldn’t be tongue-tied anymore!
It wasn’t a potion then. Her next thought was some kind of mind control spell, but those were Unforgivables, so it couldn’t be. Besides, she hadn’t once seen him use his wand.
Ámbar couldn’t understand it. If it wasn’t any of that, then what was it?
The answer came to her two days later when Simón timidly approached her after their joined class of Defense Against the Dark Arts.
“Hey, Ámbar?” He called out to her outside the door. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Ámbar ignored the way her chest started feeling funny and replied, “Yeah, sure.”
She gave a sign to Matteo and Ramiro to go ahead without her and stood at the side of the hallway with Simón.
“I wanted to ask you something,” he said.
Wow, he looked so serious in comparison to how he usually looked. Actually, this might be the first time she didn’t see him smiling, or at least close to it. She felt something weird in her hands. Was that sweat? Ew.
“What?”
Simón looked at her for a moment more, his mouth opening and closing until he finally said, “Have I done something to upset you?”
Ámbar blinked, not having expected that. One didn’t triumph in a house like Slytherin without knowing how to keep a neutral face, however, and that was what she did.
“Why do you say that?”
Simón rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s just, I’ve noticed that every time we cross paths, you just say like two words and then leave, and I’ve caught you glaring at me from afar…”
She was pretty sure she was glaring at the sluts fluttering around him but okay.
“I just wanted to say that, if I said something wrong or did something to offend you, I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention.”
His sad expression caused something inside her that was worse than all the sensations before.
“No.” She had been angry at him, back when she thought he had slipped her a potion, but those notions had since been proven false. “No, no, you haven’t done anything wrong. On the contrary— You’re very nice. With everyone. I’ve seen you helping people out with their spells or carrying their books even when you’re new here. You helped me out when you didn’t even know me, ran through all that courtyard just to give me my quill back, and whenever you see me, you always greet me with a smile, and…”
Oh.
That was when the piece fell into place.
It was his smile. It was the way he smiled at her as if he was happy to see her. The way he sparkled with joy. His sweet voice, both talking and singing. His gentle brown eyes. The way he was kind to everyone and seemed to be in love with life.
It was just him.
Like a veil had been lifted from her eyes, Ámbar stared at the guy in front of her as if she had never seen him before. “…I’m not mad at you.”
“Really?” That usual sparkle returned to his eyes. “Oh, that’s such a relief. But then, why…?”
“I just… I’ve had my head all over the place lately… Thinking…”
“Thinking about what?”
Simón was looking at her with curiosity, his gaze fixed on her own, and Ámbar suddenly found she couldn’t speak.
She was enraptured.
Merlin, had he always had those plump lips before? And his eyelashes were so long, even longer than hers. Oh, and if the sun hit him at just the right angle, it lit up his eyes, and she swore she could see some golden hues in there between the brown, and—
Those eyes were now watching her with confusion.
“Um…” Oh Merlin, I can’t say I was thinking about him. Quick, say something! Anything! “Nothing! Nothing at all! You know, I can’t even remember anymore. Just silly things most probably, hahahah, nothing important. You know what is important? You. I mean, not important to me— not like you’re not important to me! But that’s not what I meant. What I meant is— What about you? What have you been up to? What’s up with your life?”
Oh, no, did she just fist-bump him on the shoulder? Yep, she did. Kill her now.
Simón laughed. “I’ve been good. Pretty good. I was a little worried about being the new kid, but everyone’s been very nice, and I already got a couple of friends. Especially my roommates, Pedro Arias and Nicolás Navarro, I don’t know if you saw them in class with me. I was very lucky to have them as my roommates; they’re the best. So, I’m very happy that everything has turned out great.”
“I’m very glad to hear that.” Maybe the roommate system wasn’t so bad after all.
“Well, um, I won’t take any more of your time, I just wanted to make sure things were okay,” Simón said with a little nervous chuckle. “A couple of people warned me not to get on your bad side for some reason, but you don’t bite, do you?” He said playfully.
Ámbar laughed loudly (maybe a bit too loud but it was fine). “No.” Unless you ask me to.
“That’s what I thought,” he said with a smirk. He turned to leave. “Bye, Ámbar, see you around.”
“See you…”
Ramiro and Matteo approached as the Hufflepuff was leaving. Sure, Ámbar had told them to go ahead, but curiosity won out, and so they stood nearby watching the interaction.
“Who was that?” Matteo asked.
Ámbar answered with her eyes fixed on the retreating figure.
“That,” she said, her heart growing wings and flying, “…is the cutest Hufflepuff that has ever lived.”
Matteo and Ramiro shared a confused look behind her.
Ámbar bit her lip with heart-eyes.
…
..
.
------------------
Acceptance is the first step, Ámbar 😂
Fun fact: I'm a Hufflepuff! And at first I was just like Ámbar like, who even cares about this house? But now I'm proud of it 💛🖤
I hope y'all are liking this, I'm having a lot of fun hahah ♡
wow. at least my theory that lutteo and gastina doesn’t exist in the same universe without one of them being broken up. but at what cost?? i lost my beloved simbar and im pissed. anywho let’s pretend season 4 was about gastina getting back together :)
I still hold onto hope that this is like an AI thing. Still, if this lumon theory is even a thing, whether they’re endgame or it’s a brief thing in the show, I’m disappointed in Michael Ronda specifically because he knows how much the fans love Simbar, how much we ride for Simbar. It feels really disrespectful that he would even take this role and allow these changes. I don’t know him personally, but that’s just my opinion, yeah, like I just wanted to see Gastina get back together. I didn’t ask for the rest of it.
Simón proposes to Ámbar one morning in their apartment, and then later that day, they're celebrating their engagement.
"Mine," he says, moving inside her, their fingers intertwined because that way he can feel the ring. "Yours," he says, because he is, and kisses her. "Forever."
Ámbar laughs at his excitement, which has very little to do with the activity they're participating in and much more with just happiness for what's to come.
"We're not married yet," she reminds him.
"A technicality that I'd rectify in the nearest law office right now if you let me," he rasps out before continuing the hundred kisses he's pressing all over her.
Ámbar thinks about that for a minute. About how they'd known they wanted to get married for years. About how she'd just been waiting for him to pop the question to say yes. About how she'd never been more sure about anything.
"What if we do?"
Simón stops moving.
Their eyes meet, and they're both breathless, but the reason for it is changing quickly.
"What?"
"Find the nearest law office." Her heart is pounding, and it's not fear, it's anticipation. "We could call any of our friends to stand as witnesses and they'd be there in a second."
Simón's eyes search her own for her level of seriousness.
"Our families would kill us if we get married and they weren't there."
"I still want a big wedding," Ámbar tells him. "We can invite everyone then. We could have it in Cancún so even your extended family could make it. But in the meantime, we could already be married in paper."
Simón is still looking at her like he isn't sure if he should let himself believe this.
His hips roll of their own will, and a flutter of pleasure goes through both of them, reflected on their faces.
"You're serious?"
"Yes."
He gains momentum. "You want to marry me?"
Ámbar laughs through the resumed lack of air. "I already said yes."
"Fuck." He kisses her like he's going to die. "I love you, I love you, I love you—"
Ámbar keeps laughing joyfully until the moans don't let her.
After, when they'd come down, Simón asks her again, just in case her decision had been affected by the flood of hormones.
Ámbar assures him it wasn't.
Later that afternoon, they get married at sunset.
Simón left his country when he was eighteen.
Ámbar had a history of acting before thinking.
They both believe this is the best impulsive decision they have ever made.
Re watching season 4 of wizards of waverly place and I love the dean return episode. The way dean calls mason “London bridges” has me dying. While Alex and dean start playing skee ball mason goes “I’ll just be here watching you guys hit it off.”
