The following morning, Agustín woke with a pounding headache, feeling as though the world was collapsing upon him. Despite the migraine, he forced himself up; he couldn't miss the soccer match at the Trinidad plaza with Douglas and the others. His father drove him there, while his mother stayed behind to manage the reception at the funeral home.

  The sun felt especially intense; for a December day, it seemed to burn fiercer with every passing minute of the morning. The game moved fast, leaving Agustín behind as his mind kept drifting to the previous night. From the start of the first half, Douglas noticed Agustín wasn't himself, but he chose not to bother him, assuming he was either feeling unwell or had caught a cold at the university.

  Before the referee could blow the whistle for halftime—with the visiting team holding a clear lead in the friendly match—Agustín collided with the opposing defender, hitting the grass with his full weight, landing on his ankle.

  It was an explosion of sharp, staggering pain. Although the referee halted the game so he could be assisted, Agustín, in a fit of stubbornness, stood up. Hopping on one leg and gingerly testing the other, he waved off his teammates and coach, insisting he was fine and it wasn't that serious. He limped toward the changing rooms while his team scrambled to make a comeback in the final minutes of the first half.

  The changing rooms were entirely dark, save for a few shafts of light filtering through the concrete lattice. Once inside, with the doors closed, Agustín had a breakdown.

  He burst into tears, though he wasn't even sure if it was from the pain. From the shadows emerged Buer; his eyes, every bit as intense as that day’s sun, observed Agustín with care and tenderness.

  He let him cry until the tears turned into ragged sobs. Buer knelt and, with delicacy, removed Agustín’s shoe and sock to inspect the injury. Instinctively, Agustín tried to pull his leg back, but the slightest movement was unbearable. Buer insisted, holding the leg firmly yet gently.

  "A sprain? Okay... it could have been worse."

  The young man allowed the demon to do whatever he was attempting. He was becoming more aware of his surroundings now, only just noticing that all the sounds from outside had ceased.

  "Done," Buer stated.

  "What?"

  "It’s fixed. You can move your ankle now."

  Agustín was stunned when he found he could move his leg as if nothing had happened. The demon placed his sock and shoe back on. With warm hands, he smoothed the seam of the sock carefully, both hands sliding down the contour of Agustín’s calf in a lingering, almost lewd motion. The young man reacted with a near-involuntary reflex, standing up and backing away until he hit the lockers.

  "Why are you crying?"

  Agustín didn't answer.

  "It’s fear, isn't it?"

  "No, it's not that."

  "Perhaps next time it would be wise to reconsider the questions you ask me—especially if you aren't ready for the answers."

  "I'm sorry... yesterday I thought you..."

  "If I had wanted to, I would have done it already."

  He was right.

  Agustín nodded, head bowed. "I'm sorry, and... thank you. Really."

  Buer stood up again to walk toward him and, just as he had the day before, wiped away his tears so the others wouldn't notice. And so, as if nothing had happened, the young man walked out of the locker rooms to watch the rest of the match from the bench, faking pain even though it was completely gone. He looked at the sky, and the sun’s intensity seemed to dim.

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  The following week, Agustín finished his Physics exam and went to look for Dagoberto. They had agreed to meet Marley and Mayté for coffee and, if it got late, perhaps a few drinks as well.

  Passing the same halls he had walked a week earlier, he heard the harpsichord again in the music room. This time, however, he chose to ignore it. He walked to the garden near the bus stops and found Dagoberto with a freshman girl. He didn't want to interrupt and simply stood there, clutching the straps of his backpack. When Dagoberto saw him, he adjusted his glasses.

  "Gus! What’s up, man? How was the exam?"

  "Good, I think. Yours?"

  Dagoberto nodded and took the girl’s hand. "This is Agustín, a friend of mine."

  "Nice to meet you," the girl replied. "Priscilla."

  "Likewise. So... are we still heading downtown to meet Marley and Mayté?"

  "Uh, well..."

  "I can wait for you in the library if you want," Agustín offered.

  "No, no, don't worry. You go on ahead with them, and we’ll get together another day."

  Agustín left so as not to interrupt further and boarded the bus. One final image remained: his friend kissing the young woman. He felt a pang of jealousy and scolded himself; it was enough. He didn't want such trivial things to affect him.

  He headed down to the Central Market, where he met his friends for empanadas and coffee. They caught up, he shared his news, and they shared theirs. Agustín mentioned that Dago wouldn't be joining them and likely wouldn't for a while—at least until he decided to introduce his new girlfriend.

  Mayté and Marley exchanged a look when Agustín told them, as if saying everything without opening their mouths.

  After eating, they wandered through the market, picking up whatever they needed. It was then that they stumbled upon a stall selling medicinal plants and dried herbs. It was a tiny stall, barely large enough for two people, with wooden counters so old they felt smooth to the touch, still bearing traces of green paint. In a gold frame hung a highly detailed painting of a young man in a nurse’s uniform. From the ceiling, all sorts of herbs hung from nails: rosemary, santa lucía*, chamomile, juanilama**, and others he didn't recognize.

  A very old woman with long, white hair stood up from the bench where she had been sitting. Agustín’s attention had been drawn to some flowers with a multitude of petals, orange and yellow, which the old woman had in a vase.

  "Good afternoon. What flowers are those, excuse me?"

  "Marigolds. I have them fresh and also dried, for remedies."

  "Could I have a bouquet? Please."

  "Of course, young man. Anything else?"

  "Uh... yes, those, please," he said, pointing to the chamomile.

  "Certainly. A fresh bunch or a packet of dried flowers?"

  "A fresh bunch."

  "Are they for decoration?"

  "They’re... yes, for my mother. What are those other yellow ones?"

  "California poppies. Gold-cups."

  "Those too."

  The woman prepared the bouquets, binding them with a strand of hemp. As she did, a younger woman entered through a side door and whispered in the old lady’s ear. The old woman smiled and nodded.

  "Young man, take these as well. They’ll like them; they're on the house. Dandelion."

  "Oh, that’s very kind! Thank you, truly."

  Agustín took the bouquets after paying and continued walking with his friends, who praised the scent of the flowers.

  Later, he found himself alone on the bus again, now with his backpack and the bouquets on his lap. He got off at the last stop, as usual, but instead of walking straight home, he stayed at the sports plaza in front of the church to watch the sunset.

  Just like other times, Buer appeared with his usual nonchalance, without drawing the attention of a single passerby.

  "Good afternoon, Vinicio."

  Agustín didn't look at him immediately; he simply held the bouquet out in front of him. He didn't make a sound, but deep down, he was trembling with nerves.

  A minute passed.

  "They are... for me."

  Agustín whispered a "yes." Buer took the flowers, his hand brushing the young man’s with delicacy.

  "Thank you for... what happened at the game. And... sorry if I offended you with my question the other day."

  "Why would it offend me?"

  "I don't know. I thought I had crossed a line."

  "That is not necessarily a bad thing. It is part of knowing one another—just as we agreed to do before formalizing the pact."

  Agustín looked at him again. Buer was holding the flowers with immense care.

  "Thank you for the offering, Agustín. I’ll see you soon."

  "See you soon, yes."

  [...] See you soon.

  Commelina erecta, traditionally used to treat conjunctivitis and certain skin conditions. It is also common for locals to pick a few of these flowers and place them inside their wallets, as it is believed this practice encourages prosperity throughout the year. Typically, these flowers are gifted to loved ones, such as family or friends, along with good wishes for the new year.

  Lippia alba, a native plant used for digestive remedies and as a pain reliever.