Camilo Madrigal×Male Reader

•Reuniting with Camilo

Guide:
(Y/N)=Your Name
(E/C)=Eye Color
(H/L)=Hair Length

It had been about four days since Camilo had seen you since the dinner, and with each set of the moon and rise of the sun, he missed you more and more. Everything just didn't feel right to him anymore. He wasn't there to see you smile. He wasn't there to comfort you. He wasn't there to hug or share his feelings with you. He missed your voice, your touch, the way you were so passionate about him. For a while, Camilo had barely come out of his room and had seen Abuela even less. He felt so sick when he thought about her face that night. The way she made him feel like a piece of garbage with just one glare. Camilo sighed heavily as he sat up in his bed, stuffing his face into the palms of his hands. He dropped his hands into his lap, staring up at his ceiling longingly. He was so...bored and lost without you. Reluctant, he tosses his yellow patterned blanket to the side, swinging his legs over the bed. The pads of his feet touch the floor as he hesitantly stands, itching the top of his head as he takes his place in front of his large wooden vanity, staring into the reflection of the mirror. He looked at himself, his eyebrows arched into a sad furrow. Then, he shape-shifted into you. Camilo remembered you very well, right down to every unique detail. He reached up, touching "your" cheek. He gazed into your handsome (e/c) eyes, running his fingers through your (h/l) hair. Camilo began to tear up, moving the hand that was in your hair and moving it down to cover his eyes. He shakily took in a deep breath, resting both his hands on the surface of his vanity, taking a step back. His lip quivered as he tried to blink away the tears, eventually getting mad at himself and frustratingly began wiping his eyes. Camilo grunted loudly, shape-shifting back to himself. "This is the stupidest shit ever..." He thought to himself, sniffling and drying his runny nose with the sleeve of his nightshirt. He pauses as a risky idea comes to mind. He stared in the mirror for another minute, nodding to himself. "I'm coming, (Y/N)."

Camilo grabbed one of his hooded ruanas, slipping it over his head and tugging on his sandals hastily. He was going to sneak out. He was going to sneak out and confess his love to you. He didn't care what his family thought, not what was best for the miracle, or what everyone's expectations of him were. He wanted to be with you and wanted to at least try. Even if you said no, he would be excited to see you anyway. Very, very quietly exiting his room, he carefully shuts the door behind him, cautiously turning the knob. Flipping up his hood over his hair, Camilo tiptoes down the stairs, being extremely alert as to not make them creek. He holds his breath as he slinks towards the front door, but before he can open it, the casita lifts a line of the floors tiles to act as a small barrier, as if to tell Camilo not to go. He tsks, stepping over them. Casita then causes the tiles to form a wave, sending Camilo back to the other side of the room. He groans, standing up and looking around the house. "Casita, please. I need to see (Y/N)..." He whispers pleadingly, waiting for the house to give him a response. "Please, I'm begging you. It's been days, and I really don't want to keep having to ask Dolores to listen in on what he's saying!" He says. After more than a group of seconds, casita still doesn't respond. Sighing, he turns to go back upstairs to go think of another plan. Then, the little sound of the front door creaking open perks to his ears, a slight gust of chilly wind spiraling around his bare ankles. Looking over his shoulder, Camilo smiles widely as he spots an ajar crack in the door, the light from the moon peeking in. He rushes over, silently opening it wider and slithering out into the outside. "Thank you, Casita!" He whispers lowly, rushing down the small flight of steps. But, he stops. Before he leaves, Camilo clears his throat. "Dolores, if you can hear me, um..." He stutters, turning around the face his home. "Please, don't tell anyone. Especially Abuela. I...really need to do this." He mumbled. "I won't be long, I promise." And with that, Camilo began to run to your house. One foot rushing in front of the other, the sound of his sandals clacking against the stoned roads of the town.