His Mariposa (Camilo Madrigal x Filipina!Reader)

CHAPTER 69

He knew his children was out in the rain with their friends. Where exactly? Just somewhere in this magical safe haven. Probably laughing and dancing or doing whatever fun activity they could come up with.

He didn't specifically know that Butch was taking turns with his friends, riding on Antonio's back. Or that Y/N was smiling at a very grumpy Camilo as he complained about just having his curls perfected that morning and now his hours long effort was gone to waste as he was drenched by the rain just to chaperone his little brother.

Ernesto didn't know about the awkward conversation his daughter and her best friend had about how to stop people from thinking they were a couple.

He didn't know, and frankly he didn't care. What he knew however was how ironic it was that somehow, far away from his home country, his youngest son, Butch, a deLos Reyes, was best friends with a boy called Antonio.

Ernesto hissed and tried to get the memory of his best friend off his mind.

He's dead. He's never coming back. He was betrayed. Assassinated by our own countrymen.

Ernesto grumbled. He was still so angry, and it's still so goddamn painful to think about him. To think about his wife. His eldest son. His country, his old job, their family's old home.

It hurt to think about them and it was exhausting to try and run away.

Everything.

It was draining the life out of him.

Waking up without his wife beside him.

Not hearing his eldest son fiddling with his guitar.

Not hearing all of his children bicker before finally being settled by their mother.

Not being able to feel the excitement of finally finding a free time in his best friend's schedule so they could have a drink or two.

He missed them. He missed everything.

He needed to do something. Somehow. Someway. Whatever way possible.

He wanted to do something about all these pent up emotions, because he knew what he was like when he bottled things up. He'd blow up like a bomb and hurt everyone around him.

Whenever he had his outbursts, it was his family that he would inevitably hurt. Amd yet they were the people that would make him pull himself together.

Anita would not take his violence and bullshit and fight back. But then she'd immediately forgive him and coddle him the moment he apologizes.

Alessandro would be the one protecting his siblings, telling them to stop crying and that Nanay and Tatay will figure things out together, like they always do.

And Y/N and Butch. They were the ones that he could hear through the door. Calling for him, and pleading for him to calm down. Lighting candles to pray that he'd calm down.

Ernesto sighed, forcing back a sob that tried to escape his lungs.

He looked up at the bare ceiling, removing his glasses and blinking the forming tears away.

Pull yourself together, you big crybaby, he scolded himself.

He straightened up and leaned his elbows on his knees to think.

He had to do something. Anything to release even just an ounce of the heaviness in his heart.

He needed to do something that would let him control his breathing.