Camilo x Reader -Broken Reflection

Chapter 12 (Confessions)

Y/N's POV

The sky was awake and there was barely a cloud within a mile radius that hung in the big blue space. A gentle breeze fluttered leaves and flowers and the thin blades of grass that Camilo, Mirabel, Antonio, and I laid on.

We spent most of the morning inside, doing chores and caring for the Casita since Camilo's birthday had passed and it was still messy from the party. The house was sweltering and eventually, the four of us collapsed on the cool wood of Camilo's stage in his room, wishing that air conditioning existed in the town. Unfortunately, it was a pleasure that belonged to the big cities.

"What happened?" I panted. A thick layer of sweat coated my body and we all smelled a little foul. "Why's it so hot? What did we do to the Casita?"

I tilted my head to look at Camilo who had taken off his poncho. His collared shirt was completely unbuttoned and he flapped the cloth to try and cool himself down. His skin glittered in the sunlight that peaked in from the window; sweat ran down his caramel skin and his hair was frizzy just like the rest of his family's.

"Whenever my mother and father get a little... hot," He began, and I saw his cheeks flush from embarrassment and disgust. It was obvious that he didn't want to picture it. "The house gets all hot because of Pepa's mood."

Mirabel burst out laughing and I couldn't find the energy to do the same.

"It happens maybe once a year," She said and wiped a tear from her eye. It might have been sweat.

Antonio was too busy playing with his crickets to pay attention to the conversation or know what we were talking about.

"We wanna play outside," the five-year-old boy said at last, and we all shifted to look at him. We figured trying our luck with the heat outside was worth a shot, and that was how we ended up laying under a tree on a hill.

We were only a kilometer or so away from the house, yet it felt like we were on another side of the country. The cool breeze filtered through my hair and my lungs welcomed the fresh air.

I hadn't had a chance to rest like so since I'd come to the village. I was always working and trying to prove my usefulness just like Mirable struggled to for all of her life. I spent all of my free time at night on the balcony and staring at the same stars and trees beyond the house. It was easy to forget the simple beauties of living in the village when there was always work to be done.

"So, where are you from?" Camilo asked me. He propped himself up on his elbows as he looked at me. I sat up with a frown and stretched out my legs. They were starting to feel a little itchy from the grass.

"Camilo!" Mirabel hissed and glanced at me worriedly. I'd told her a little about my past over the weeks but never went into too much detail to avoid being pitied.

"What? She's not from here," Camilo said simply. "Look at her. She's not a Madrigal." He glanced at me with a raised eyebrow. He knew that he hadn't hurt my feelings. I didn't blame him for wondering- the entire village probably wanted to know.

I paused for a moment and then asked, "well, what do you want to know?"

+++

Camilo's POV

Her parents were assholes and I wondered why she never talked about it until then. Maybe it's because everyone was too scared to ask. Maybe it was because she thought no one would care.

Somehow we all started braiding each other's hair. It started with me absently listening to the Orchid girl speak while weaving flowers into her hair and then Mirabel started braiding mine and Antonio started to braid Mirabel's.

I wondered if we should have told Antonio to leave as she spoke because her story wasn't one that a little child should hear. Still, he listened quietly and said nothing.

"One day, my parents were sleeping and they left the stove on. Julio was playing in the kitchen and I was out running errands," She said. I could tell that the story was going downhill as soon as she started to speak. "A fire started and by the time I got home, the entire house was almost burnt down." She took a shaky breath as she fiddled with my fingers. I watched as she brushed her thumbs over my nails and smoothed the skin over my knuckles. "Luckily they got out safe but I never forgave them. Julio almost died. We had nothing. My aunt took us in but we were still dirt broke and it was their fault."

"I had to work and I didn't mind, but it was just me. I was the only one earning money besides my aunt, and it was under-the-counter money," She continued. I winced as she closed her eyes and shuddered as if she were reliving the past events. I wished that she never had to go through such a terrible thing.

"Julio got sick," she said after a while. Minutes passed and we gave her the time to say what she needed to say. We all knew that her brother died, that he was small for his age and that he would have been seven a few weeks ago, but she left it at that.

"I worked so hard, but it wasn't enough. Nothing was enough and my parents just sat there and watched as he died."

I looked down to see her face. Her eyes were downturned and glossy and she held a pained expression.

"I did everything I could and every day I'd come home to see him a few shades paler and laying in his own filth, and they. Did. Nothing."

Her breath was shaky and I could tell that she was fighting her tears. We both knew that it was okay to let go, to feel what we needed to feel, but she still resisted.

"They blamed me," She said. "Do you know what that's like? It's hell." She let go of my hands and let hers fall to her side.

I could tell that Mirabel had finished braiding my hair. She laid back down in the grass and held onto the other girl's hand. I thought about taking her other one but Antonio beat me to it and laid his head down on her stomach.

"It's okay," He said to her softly. "Julio doesn't blame you." I watched as a single tear fell down the side of her face and clung to her ear.

"Why do you say that?" She asked.

"Because," he gave her hand a little squeeze before saying, "I wouldn't."