Page 78 of Espíritu

He grabbed a blue marker and uncapped it, sketching broad stripes along the side of the candle—LA Galaxy colors, his dad’s favorite team. Then he drew a lopsided version of the Stingray, his dad’s beloved project car, and added silver sequins for the rims. It looked more like a jelly bean on wheels than a muscle car, but he smiled anyway.

Beside him, Yadriel worked quietly, his candle blossoming with painted marigolds and golden accents. He carefully painted tiny flowers in clusters, the strokes precise and reverent.

Lita reappeared from the kitchen with two clay mugs and set them gently on the table. “Here we go!” she said. “Just what you need.”

The rich scent of cocoa filled the air, a cinnamon stick swirling lazily in each mug.

“Thanks,” Julian said, taking a cautious sip—then blinking in surprise. “Whoa, this is legit. What’s in it?”

“Cocoa, sugar, vanilla, cinnamon, cloves, and milk,” Lita listed off, a note of pride in her voice.

“Damn, you use milk?” Julian asked, impressed. That explained how it was so rich and frothy. “Fancy. Usually Rio just makes Swiss Miss with hot water.” Not that he ever complained.

Yadriel gave a little laugh as he settled back beside him, their shoulders brushing. “My mom always made this when things were hard. Said it was like a hug for your insides.”

Julian chuckled. “There’s gotta be some magic in this,” he murmured, half joking, half wistful.

“Maybe there is,” Yadriel replied, his voice soft, eyes reflecting the flicker of candlelight from his mom’s altar in the corner of the room.

The warmth of the drink seeped into his bones, pushing back the lingering chill of fear and grief. For a few quiet minutes, the only sounds were the scratch of markers, the clink of sequins, and the soft hum of Yadriel beside him.

When they finished, Julian picked up his candle and squinted at it critically. The lines were uneven. The Stingray was questionable, but the silver stars along the top and the glittery soccer ball sticker near the base made him smile.

“Looks perfect,” Yadriel said, and Julian could tell he meant it.

Julian grinned. “Yours is amazing,” he said, leaning over to admire the tiny, intricate marigolds.

They placed their candles on the windowsill. Outside, the soft glow of the cemetery’s streetlights caught on the foil and glitter, making them shimmer in the dark. Side by side, the candles stood as quiet testaments to memory and love.

Julian let out a soft, shaky sigh. For the first time in what felt like days, his heart was a little lighter.

Yadriel led Julian to the corner of the living room where they began piecing together a makeshift bed. The couch cushions were dragged to the floor, layered with a mismatched pile of lumpy pillows and thin blankets. It was far from luxurious, but together it formed a kind of cozy nest beside the couch.

Lita had already claimed her usual spot in the recliner by the window. A thick tiger-print blanket covered her lap, and her head was tilted back, mouth slightly open as soft, rhythmic snores filled the room.

Julian glanced at her and lowered his voice. “So she meant it. She’s really sleeping out here with us?”

Yadriel shrugged, trying not to smile. “House rules. Come on,” he said, leading the way upstairs. “You sure you want to borrow some clothes to sleep in?” Yadriel asked. “You’re literally wearing your pajamas—”

“Yes, I want to wear yours! How often do I get the excuse to wear my boyfriend’s stuff to sleep?” Julian said with a grin.

Yadriel laughed and shook his head as they walked into his bedroom. “You know, you could just have one of my shirts to take home with you,” he said, pulling out a black tee from a drawer.

Julian snatched it from his hand. “Great! It’s mine!”

Yadriel smiled up at Julian, leaning into his chest before planting a soft kiss on his lips. Julian closed his eyes and savored it for a moment, soaking in the warmth and sweetness.

“You’re ridiculous,” Yadriel told him.

“You’re into it,” Julian teased back.

A few minutes later, they were back downstairs.

“I’m impressed it actually fits!” Julian said, smoothing down the front of the buttery soft T-shirt. “I’m, like, way bigger than you!”

Yadriel gave a sheepish shrug. “Yeah. I always buy stuff big. It’s just … more comfortable.”

Julian glanced down at himself. “It’s giving ‘lost child at El Mercadito’ energy.”