Beautiful Bruises ~ Camilo Madrigal x Reader

Yourself

TW: Abuse

When you arrived home, Jude wasn't there. He was supposed to be, and you knew it. Maybe that's why your father was even more upset than he should be. Then again, he was always more upset than he should be.

He made you sit in the chair again, but this time it was your back instead of your hands, leaving lash-marks like tear marks streaking down the skin of your back.

"What is your problem with the Madrigals?" you cried when you finally stood back up, your back bleeding through your shirt.

"They separated me from my family," he snarled, then looked angry and shocked at himself, as though he shouldn't have let that slip out.

"What do you mean?! I don't know what the adults may have done to you as a kid, but the children in that family are nothing but kind to me! Mirabel is amazing and sweet, and Camilo is... Camilo is smart, and he cares about me, papa, he cares. That's more than you'll ever be able to say," you spit, already regretting the words but knowing that nothing could have stopped you from saying them.

His eyes flash with regret. You see it, the raw pain of a father who doesn't love his daughter and who isn't loved by her. But then he masks it with anger, marching over and punching you in the face.

His hand is big. Your head snaps around, and you fall onto your back, crying out. When you scramble back to your feet, holding your eye and sobbing, he simply glowers at you, no remorse in his cold expression.

"Cover that up with powder when you go into town. It'll leave a bruise. Your room. Now."

You don't give him a chance to change his mind, running to your room and collapsing on the bed, your back stinging and aching. You sob, the tears flowing openly from your slightly swelled eye. Moments later, you hear a knock on your window and sit up quickly.

Camilo's concerned face hovers outside.

You race to your bathroom, covering your face. Once you arrive in the relative safety of the room, you quickly change out of your blood stained shirt and change into a black cotton pajama shirt. Your back should nearly be done bleeding - the whip mostly left bruises - but just in case, the red probably wouldn't show up on the black. Finally, you press a cold washcloth to your eye, reducing the swelling and making it look mostly normal again before quickly applying concealer to your face to hide the dark bruise. Satisfied, you stepped back into your room.

He is still waiting at the window, trying to pry it open to no avail. You force a smile onto your face and walk over, sliding it open. He starts to climb through, but you gently push him back out by his shoulders.

"Believe it or not, Camilo, I'm not allowed to have gentlemen visit me I at 9 pm," you teased, leaning your elbows on the windowsill and placing your head in your hands so that the two of you were eye-to-eye from where he stood on the grass.

"Oh, but I'm anything but a gentleman," he responded coyly, before growing serious again. "(Y/N). What is going on? I saw you getting pulled away. Who was that?"

You tried not to grimace at the memory.

"Do you have my glove?" you asked instead, avoiding the question.

"Shoot!" he hissed through clenched teeth. "I left it at Casita. Care to come grab it with me?" He held a large hand out invitingly. You stared at it for a while. What would your papa do if he caught you? It would be horrible. But... you didn't care what your papa would do anymore. You were done being controlled by him.

Taking his hand, you hauled yourself out the window, picking up your skirt so it didn't get caught.

Once you were on the ground steadily, you found yourself standing face to face with him, his lips twisted into a devious smirk. Your face grew hot as you quickly stepped away, gripping your skirt so hard it hurt.

"Let's go," he said, and you walked after the boy, amazed at how he didn't seem flustered at all. The walk there was silent, save for the shrieking of children in some houses you passed. You glanced in the windows, seeing mothers and fathers holding squirming children on their laps, laughing as they tried to read them a story to no avail.

You didn't realize you had stopped at one such window until Camilo was holding your hand by your side, lightly so he wouldn't hurt you.

"You wish it was like this too, huh?" You spun to meet his eye, confused.

"Isn't your life... great?" you questioned softly. He had strong, beautiful cousins and great parents and siblings. "Isn't your life like that?" You pointed at the window, where the parents had finally gotten the kids settled down in front of the fireplace and had started reading.

Camilo snorted, turning his perfect face away from you so that it was half hidden in shadow.

"Yeah, my life is perfect. Everything has to be perfect. I don't get time to run around laughing and singing with kids, like Mirabel. She's lucky. I wish I didn't get a gift, because now I have to pretend I'm something that I'm not. Every. Single. Day." His face grew redder as he spoke, as though he were embarrassed by what he was saying. "And the worst part? Nobody ever needs my help. It's always someone I shape-shift into, not... this," he finally said, holding up your intertwined hands. "Not me."

You gazed at him. The boy who was never embarrassed, who was always smooth and cunning and laughing. Was it all fake? Were you the first person he had... told?

"Camilo," you said, and he slowly looked up from the ground to look you in the eyes. "You're family doesn't love the people you shape-shift into, they love you," I breathed, holding his hand up as he had done. "Does your family love Dolores only because she can hear? Or Luisa only because she can move buildings?"

Camilo looked back at the ground.

"But it's... different," he mumbled.

You drew closer, placing your free hand on his shoulder.

"You know why I like you, Camilo? Not because you can shape-shift, but because you care about your family and your village. You make me smile, even if you don't mean to, and that's not Josè or María or anyone that you can turn into. That's you."

He looked up at you, a small smile on his face. The glint had returned to his eyes. 

"You like me, huh?"

You groaned, pulling him along faster and trying to ignore the way your back stung painfully.

"Well you can admit it!" he cried, jogging to catch up. "Cuz guess what? I like you too."

You rolled your eyes, even as your face grew red.

He doesn't mean it that way, you scolded yourself. I wish he did.

You finally arrived at Casita, and Camilo crept through the house, pulling you behind him. When you spotted Isabella, he quickly changed into Abuela, using you behind him. They exchanged soft pleasantries before he had turned back into himself and you were rushing into his - room.

It was the most amazing thing you had ever seen. And you were completely alone with Camilo, the gorgeous boy who was still holding your hand.