Harana: Camilo x Reader

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖌: Wildflowers by Tom Petty

𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐋𝐚𝐜𝐮𝐧𝐚

♫

     Crisanto left an unfilled space— an extra seat on their dining table, an empty spot on their shoe rack. He took off as soon as he came; running off in his uniform with a promise he couldn't keep. A promise that he would come home to his family.

     Y/N stared at the vacant spot Isabela's tree used to occupy, the blankness reflects in her eyes. She hadn't said a word since she came here; Camilo just found her with her clothes already smeared with dirt. "I know it doesn't look much but Isabela said that it'll look just like our drawing." Camilo held onto the pot, on it was a sapling with its serrate leaves tilted upwards.

     "Okay, not that you look haggard or anything," She definitely does. "But at what time did you clock in?" Camilo asked, watching her take the sapling out. "As soon as I woke up, the sunrise was beautiful by the way." Gently placing the sapling on the pit, Y/N's creased brow deepened. 

     She patted the dirt with her trowel. "Y/N." Camilo tensed, positioning himself as if to cover her from someone. Lucia awkwardly smiled at him— putting his palms up to show him that he meant no harm. "What are you doing here?" Camilo lowly hissed, glaring at the paper bag Lucia brought with him.

    Y/N turned around and moved Camilo's poncho away. Her eyes met with Lucia's mossy ones, "No no, Milo, it's okay." She got up and stood between the two boys. "I decided to drop by before I'm off to my new job." Lucia gave her the paper bag, "Figured I'd buy you some bread as well."  Y/N's shoulders drooped in relief; how the tables have turned.

     Camilo's eyes kept on switching between the two, a look of puzzlement crossed his face, "Excuse me but I don't know what's going on." Y/N held his arm and his scowl disappeared. "We made up, sorry I didn't tell you sooner." It didn't resolve his conflicted look, his assuming thoughts gnawed him. "Are you two...?" 

     "Dios mío, no! We're just friends," Lucia affirmed; his eyes twinkling in amusement as he noticed Camilo's posture relaxed. Y/N twiddled with her fingers, "Actually, Lucia, I need to ask you something." She mumbled guiltily. Lucia glanced at Camilo then at her, "What is it?" Giving her his full attention.

     She lived in a house but she felt homeless. The white walls were sickly to look at, and her bathroom mirror remained shattered. "The spot beside your apartment, is it still free?" Camilo was taken back by her question, his brows furrowed. "Unfortunately no, but I do think the tenants on the second floor moved out yesterday," Lucia recalled.

     "Anyways, I have to get to work, don't want to lose it just yet." He lightly joked— he was lucky enough to land a job after his father's outburst. While he was definitely a lot scraggly, no one could miss the brightness in his eyes. It was his new start after all.

     Y/N waved her friend off, oblivious to Camilo's troubled gaze. "You're moving out?" The question stung his throat; his values were clashing. She picked up her trowel and nonchalantly flipped it, "I'd like to." Camilo followed her every step as she went back to the sapling.

     "I don't get it, your mom is sick." Y/N tried to mask her distaste; she knew that Camilo had always been a family man, it was one of the things she felt that they were at opposite ends. "I mean, shouldn't you be taking care of her?"  She pinched the bridge of her nose, inhaling sharply, "You don't know what you're talking about, Camilo, so can you please quit it?"

    She instantly regretted her words when she heard her biting tone. Dropping her hand, she faced him. "I'm sorry, that was a bit mean." She guiltily chewed on her bottom lip. Camilo sighed, stretching his arms out, "Alright alright, just come over here." Y/N hesitated; stopping in her gait. "But my clothes are dirty." It was true, her trousers were muddy and her blouse was slightly damp from sweat. Camilo rolled his eyes, jumping in for a hug. 

     Her breath was knocked out of her lungs— she fits snuggly in his arms. Camilo nestled his chin on her shoulder and she could feel her neck tingle as he talk. "You know I'm here for you, right?" She slowly wrapped her arms around him, burying her nose in his shirt and letting out a quiet sob. 

      He didn't want to see her go. Their whole afternoon was spent with her silently working; her eyes were red and she would sniffle every now and then. 

     Y/N got back to the house, closing the door and letting the darkness of the living room drown out the orange hues of the golden sunset. By now, her father's singing would echo from upstairs. But this time, it was dead silent. She dragged her feet up the stairs, ignoring the creak of her parent's bedroom door.

     She entered her room and dropped her bag. One side of her wall was fully covered with doodles, most were portraits of her family with the exception of her. Some of the lines bled, papers punctured when she held the pen too tightly, and lastly, large scribbles. She plucked one out— through those messy lines, she could see the faint outline of her face.

     "Lacuna." Her father stood from the doorframe, holding his ukulele. "An unfilled space." He walked over to her, dolefully looking at the portraits she made. Francisco pointed at the scribbles beside his drawn character, "I don't remember having a child like this." 

     He waited for her signature snort, but instead, she looked away. "Our family has a lacuna but it wasn't Crisanto, no, he's always here with us." Crisanto was always in the middle of her drawings, having the brightest of smiles. "I believe that our lacuna was you." Francisco brushed her hair to the side.

    "We forgot the person that should matter to us the most is right in front of us." Their only daughter. Francisco sat her down on the bed, backing away and kneeling on one knee. "Let me sing her a harana so she knows how special she is." He settled the ukulele on top of his knee. Y/N felt her tears roll down her cheek, she watched as her father position his fingertips on the chords.

     "You belong among the wildflowers,"  Francisco sang, eyes fluttering close. His fingers strum the strings expertly as if he had practiced this exact song over and over again.

     "You belong in a boat out at sea, you belong with your love on your arm."  The corner of his lips tilted upwards as he remembered the smile on his little Y/N's face whenever he went back home after a day in their old plantation. 

      And yet she grew up and she continues to grow. He paused, feeling the weight in his chest as he uttered the next line, "You belong somewhere you feel free."  She was at loss for words; her lips parted. He was letting her go.

      "Run away, go find a lover." Francisco felt his laugh through his singing, the warmth cascades him when she finally broke out into a smile. "Run away, let your heart be your guide." The tempo of the song transitions from the solemn slowness into an upbeat pace. 

     "You deserve the deepest of cover,"  He got up and circled around her bed, matching the beat to his steps. "You belong in that home by and by."  It doesn't matter if she doesn't call this house her own, she had the whole world to take. "You belong among the wildflowers." And she will bloom with them. "You belong somewhere close to me." He stopped right in front of her.

     There was a tremble in his voice as he sat down on her bed. "Far away from your trouble and worries."  The strumming faded, she held his calloused hand. "You belong somewhere you feel free,"  His wrinkles folded as he let out a melancholic smile.

     "You belong somewhere you feel free."