You woke later that morning to the sound of knocking of your bedroom window. Looking through the glass, you saw Paloma, gazing at you anxiously.
Stifling a tired groan, you made your way out of bed and opened the window for her. She was squatting on the sloped, jutting piece of roof just below your windowsill; if you were to ever climb out the window, the very first thing you'd touch is this part of the roof.
"What's up?" Paloma mumbled, hugging her legs to her chest and gazing at you. "Normally you're out by seven AM sharp, but I come to check on you, and you're not even out of bed yet! What gives?"
"I stayed at the Madrigals' Casita until it was almost midnight," you confessed.
Paloma blinked. "So you're still in bed because you're tired or because you got in trouble?"
You gave her a deadpanned look. "Both."
"Yeesh. Sorry about that."
"It's okay."
After a moment, Paloma glanced around casually. ". . .So, how'd things go with you and Don Juan?"
You raised an eyebrow at her, then flushed as you realized what she meant (if you actually don't know what it means to be called Don Juan, it might be best if you look it up-). "Er-great, actually," you murmured. "I was able to spend time with him and I think we've gotten closer. He even told me about an insecurity of his."
"Oh-wow-that was fast."
That one, you didn't catch on to. ". . .Whadduya mean by that?" You tilted your head.
"I mean, if you guys barely knew each other before hand, you must've really smooth-talked him to make him just open up like that."
You dipped your head shyly. "Well, no, I mean, everyone kinda acts like that around me," you mumbled, running your hands through your hair.
"Yeah, because you're too lovable, and Romeo seems to agree."
You squinted at her. ". . .It's too early for your teasing."
"Too early? It's nine O'clock!"
Without responding, you closed the window.
-Third-person POV-
Camilo was sweeping up the floor as Mirabel stepped out into the kitchen. She gave him a concerned glance, wondering what to say.
"Um. . .Camilo?" she began hesitantly.
"Hm. . .?"
He stopped and looked at her with half-closed eyes, his face tired and miserable, much unlike his usual self.
Now he seems even sadder than before, Mirabel sighed inwardly. What do I do there?
Aloud, she murmured, "Are you okay? Tia Pepa said you had a nightmare. . ."
"I'm fine," Camila muttered softly, turning away to put the crumbs and other things from the floor into the trash once he finished sweeping them into the dustpan. He tossed the dustpan on the counter and left the broom against the wall, which fell with a clatter against the floor.
Mirabel flinched at the sound, but Camilo didn't even look back and fled out the door silently.
He reluctantly headed for the trading market, as he said he would, and sat in the grassy spot at the bottom of one of the mountains just outside the market. He pulled his knees close to his chest after he finished setting down the blanket and basket of food, which he'd hidden under his poncho before he left.
The memory of his nightmare played over and over in his head for at least an hour, and when he realized how much time had passed, his anxiety only grew worse. Why isn't she here yet? . . .No matter how bad the nightmare was, I think I'd rather she showed up and hurt me while I see her beautiful face again than not see her at all. . .
"Camilo!"
He looked up hopefully.
- Second-person POV -
"Peni!"
You grinned at the joy but surprise in his voice, and you called out to him against when you saw him. "Cami!"
For whatever reason, your instincts told you to tackle him, so you did. The two of you fell to the ground, you on top of him, and you were both laughing immediately, pure joy coating your faces. When you toned down, your gazes met and your smiles stayed frozen for a moment longer until you realized the position you were in and quickly tried to get off, hugging your knees to your chest and clearing your throat while playing with your hair, both of you avoiding each other's gazes now.
". . .So, you. . .brought me here. . .forrrr. . .?"
Camilo's head perked up as if he'd only just remembered something. "O-Oh! Right, yeah. . ." He turned and pulled a picnic basket out from behind him. "I wanted to eat with you," he explained. "Y'know, try to talk with you more and get to know you."
"Ah." You gave him a tentative grin. "Okay."
As he set up the food, you murmured, "What did you wanna talk about?"
Camilo paused. "Well. . .I don't really know," he admitted. "I just. . .wanna get to know you better?"
It sounded much more like a question to himself than a reply to you.
"Sure, mi más elevado Señor. Ask away, amigo."
He breathed a small laugh at the joking accent you took up as you spoke. "What's your favorite color?"
"Well, I didn't really have one when I was younger, but after my dad got me a blue poncho for my tenth birthday, it was my new favorite." You looked at him expectantly, being sure to keep an inviting smile on your face. "What about you?"
"Oh, I'm kinda the same story." He gestured to his yellow poncho, which-upon closer inspection-you noticed had little chameleons decorating it. "Mi madre Pepa got me this for my twelfth birthday and yellow's been my favorite ever since."
"So for. . .three years, yellow's been your favorite?" You cocked your head to one side. "Wait-how old are you?"
"Fifteen."
"Awww man! You are older than me!"
He started chortling at your pouty tone. "Guess that really does make me your highest."
You playfully shoved him in the side. "Tironear," you huffed, turning away.
When you didn't hear a response, you glanced over your shoulder at him to find him gaping at you. Confused, you fully turned to him. "What?"
That seemed to snap him out of it. He shook his head, as if to clear it. "N-Nothing. . .I just had a dream where you did that exact thing, that's all. . .It's just weird, but not important."
He turned his head to avert his eyes as he finished speaking. In attempts to lighten the mood, you leaned towards him.
"Aww, is Cami having dreams about me?" you cooed, making his face flush.
"S-Sierra la boca," he muttered.
"Make me," you giggled, which he didn't respond to.
After a moment, he changed the subject. "Hey. . .So. . .About yesterday. . .I'm sorry I got you into trouble."
"Oh, no, it's alright," you assured. "It's my fault, really; I should've kept a better track of time. . ."
You trailed off and fell silent until Camilo changed the subject once more.
"You said you liked music yesterday," he began. "Do you have a favorite singer?"
"Umm. . .Well, I don't know of any that are popular around here in Encanto, but I really like (favorite singer/rapper/band/what-the-flippin-ever)." (Pretty sure it's only 1902 there, 1903 now that there's been a one-year-timeskip, but lets just have you say whatever you want here-. . .because. why not.)
Camilo nodded his head, his gaze looking off into the distance. "Not bad. You've got good taste. Personally, I like to make up my own songs."
You looked at him more intensely, interest immediately gripping you and forcing you to focus all your attention on him. You darted forward until your nose was just a inch from his; had he not flinched back, you would've crashed straight into him, but you were too excited to care about that. "YOU WRITE YOUR OWN SONGS TOO?!"
Camilo brightened at your words. "Whoa, yeah I do, do you?"
"Yeah!" Your eyes sparkled in a way that made his heart feel like it was melting.
He straightened himself as you pulled away to sit beside him. "Could you sing me one?"
"Sure!" You thought back to the song you were singing for Paloma the day before. "Hold up, I have the perfect one."
With that, you began singing your song in your usual quiet but steady and melodic voice:
322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgSiEVhfpSo
I think of you every night,
Kisses in the candle light
Baby, you make me go blind
Don't you know how bright you shine?
322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡH6wEGc7RpD
You had your eyes closed as you sang, so you didn't know that Camilo was staring at you with wide eyes and his mouth agape, completely astonished and mesmerized by your voice as you continued:
322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyr0Hcv7Nr9
What more can I say or do
So scared of what it'll turn into
I'm stuck to you just like glue
And it's all because I love you
322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡg3bkq7BKh1
And-just like the day before-you stopped there. Not because you were interrupted by a new arrival, but because you realized what you'd just said.
"S-Sorry, it's just a song I made up when I was five," you spluttered.
"Whoa, you made that when you were five?" Camilo looked even more amazed.
You were both flushing from the song, but at the admiration that was clear in his voice, your face became an even darker shade of red. Meekly, you nodded, then glanced at the church clock and sighed.
"It's two-thirty now," you murmured, half to yourself. At Camilo's questioning expression, you explained, "After yesterday, my dad wanted me home by three today."
"Oh. . ." was all Camilo could say to that.
There was a moment of awkward silence until you leaned towards him. "Now you get to tell me one of your songs."
He glanced away. "Well, the only one I was ever really proud of was this one song I sang with mi familía about my Tío Bruno. I made it sound scary just to freak Mirabel out, but I really liked the way it turned out."
You eagerly scooted closer. "Sing it."
A moment of hesitation passed before he took a breath and closed his eyes, then began to sing in a semi-loud voice that-while at first startled you a bit-honestly made you feel like vibing:
322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOAZ08wgnNk
Seven foot frame
Rats along his back
When he calls your name,
It all fades to black
322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGmIPgbRU1y
Although the meaning of his words seemed a bit intimidating, you liked the way his voice emphasized certain words and gave it an almost ominous feeling, sending slight chills down your spine and pulling you farther into his song.
322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2wbN3kHi2i
Yeah, he sees your dreams
And feasts on your screams
We don't talk about Bruno, no, no
We don't talk about Bruno
322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsKCrsrbodR
You looked over to see that he'd morphed himself into Bruno himself, and you giggled.
Camilo's eyes-which were an almost sickly green in comparison to their usual gentle lime shade-snapped open and he flinched, quickly changing back into himself. He glanced at you almost sheepishly, and you grinned at him.
"Your voice is amazing, Cami," you murmured, pressing against him affectionately and nuzzling your cheek against his poncho on instinct.
His face flushed and he turned his head away. "Heh-thanks. Yours is pretty astonishing, too."
A moment passed before you glanced at the clock again and sighed once more.
"Now it's almost two-forty," you muttered. "I should be heading back now. . ."
As you rose to your feet, Camilo grabbed the end of your blue poncho. "Wait."
You turned back to him questioningly. ". . .Hm?"
". . .Who do you. . .think I am. . .?"
There was a pause; you weren't sure how to answer that. When you spoke, you tried to be open and honest, making sure your voice was gentle. ". . .Camilo. . .I think you're a charming, full-of-himself teen who needs to learn some humility, but has all the best intentions at heart. You know when to stop doing something, and while you seem like you have a bit too much pride, you know exactly how to lift someone else's spirits and how to show respect when it's needed. You're a beautiful person, inside and out, perfect in every way, and trying to be like someone else isn't something you should do often when you're already so gorgeous just the way you are."
There were tears in his eyes as he let go. ". . .Thank you."
You smiled at him warmly. "You're welcome."
322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIsPPqgDT2h
A/N: Guys, look, I made the "It's Raining Tacos" song into a book.
Shell. Meat. Lettuce. Cheese.
Shell. Meat. Lettuce. Cheese.
Shell. Meat. Cheese. Cheese. Cheese. Cheese. CHEESE.322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHvsQKGXEc8
322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAKzKd5Eyip
