Paul wanted to hit himself for coming to your window. You had already rejected him, saying that you only saw him as a friend.

But Paul was a fool—a desperate, lovesick fool. Earlier, as he lay in bed feeling sorry for himself over his broken heart, he felt the need to fight for you once again.

The sensible part of him kept whispering that he would only harass you and made you hate him. But was it such a sin to try to fight for love? To fight for you? Maybe... Maybe he would touch your heart, maybe you would fall in love with him seeing his devotion?

He had a feeling that he would humiliate himself, but hell, he was a damned romantic. It was his Abuela's fault for letting him watch soap operas when he was a child.

Carefully, he threw pebbles at your window to lure you out. He suspected that at this hour you might already be asleep, but fortunately for him—or perhaps not—the light in your room turned on, and your silhouette appeared behind the window glass.

Paul waved his hands to show himself to you.

"Cariño, please forgive me, but just this once, I beg you for a chance!" Paul raised his voice, hearing the quiver in his baritone. Mierda, he was nervous. From a distance, he couldn't tell if you were looking at him in bewilderment or horror at what he was doing. Good. That way, he could delude himself into thinking you were enchanted.

When your window opened, he reached behind his back and brought his guitar around to the front.

You only live once, as they say.

Choosing the right chord, the lovesick fool plucked the strings and began his nightly concert.

"Bésame, bésame mucho…" The words flowed from his lips, blending with the melody of his guitar to create a desperate serenade. He poured his feelings into the music, crafting it for you and you alone.

And, apparently, for your neighbors as well.