A/N: Before I begin this chapter, I wanna say that Camilo's bedroom was never canonly revealed, so this is just a fanon version of it that somebody named Kysaliara came up with on a website called "Archive of our Own" (also known as "AO3"). Please go check out Kysaliara's work, the stories made there are amazing, and it's also Kysaliara's "The Room Where Everything Happens" story that gave me the idea to make this particular fanfic! Also, please don't assume that I'm trying to advertise, because people have assumed that when I say something like this too many times already, and advertising is not my intention. All that outta the way, let's move on to the chapter!
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- Second-person POV -
You sat on the edge of Camilo's bed, waiting for him to come back with news about whether Abuela Alma would let you stay. As you sat there, you decided to try and analyze his room to occupy your mind.
In all honesty, after his earlier behavior that clearly indicated his self-pride, you weren't surprised that he had a colossal king-sized mattress coated in magnificent linen and soft blankets that made you relax when you touched them. Everything about the room had lovely tints of auburn gold and yellow, which you thought suited him well, especially since it reminded you of sunshine.
Sunshine. . . The bright ball of warmth that brought the world comforting and playful daylight. . .You couldn't think of a better description for Camilo.
Wait, what? What am I thinking?
You quickly redirected your thoughts to the beauty of Camilo's room, ignoring the way your heartrate sped up; whether it was because you were embarrassed or something more, you weren't sure.
Upon closer inspection, you noticed there were little shadows in the shapes of people of all ages and genders on his wallpaper, and remembering Camilo's Gift allowed him to shapeshift into other people of any age and/or gender, you couldn't say this surprised you, either.
There was a circular rug on the floor that had multiple designs of the sun on it, and you assumed it was in reference to Camilo's mother, Pepa, and her weather-manipulating Gift. You smiled as your bare feet touched the soft carpet, reminding you of comforting velvety textures and satin and fleece sweaters. Looking over at the other side of the room, you saw a large black bookshelf with countless novels, treatises, and volumes of who knows what kinds of tomes in them.
Just then, the door popped open, and you nearly flinched at the sudden motion. Your head snapped up to see Camilo, smiling widely, as he sauntered into the room and kicked the door closed behind him. "Guess what, she said you can stay until night comes!" he exclaimed.
"Really?" you breathed, then suddenly faltered, dipping your head.
"Yeah!" Camilo plopped down beside you, then-taking in your suddenly crestfallen expression-he tilted his head to the side and lowered himself a bit to make direct eye contact. ". . .Hey, what's wrong?" he asked in a quieter tone.
If you weren't feeling so unhappy at that moment, you would've inwardly swooned at his delicate voice that dropped with concern for you. ". . .It's my parents," you answered softly. "They get worried about me when I stay out too late. Normally I spend my early mornings doing chores and hang out with my friend Paloma or Mirabel all day and come back during the evening. If I stay out any later than that, they'll get worried."
Camilo looked at the floor thoughtfully. ". . .Then. . .We'll. . .get you back home in time," he replied, turning back to you. "I'm okay with that."
You forced yourself to meet his gaze. "Really?" You'd kind of hoped to have the rest of the day with him, all the way into the night.
"Yeah." He patted your back, smiling.
You grinned at him, and inadvertently, the two of you began slowly leaning closer and closer. . .and closer. . .
Camilo's eyes, which had been half closing, fluttered wide open and he jerked back, looking away. Both of your faces flushed and Camilo stood up before heading over to the giant bookshelf that covered the whole wall across from his bed. He smiled at you over his shoulder in a way that vaguely reminded you of Mirabel and Paloma, but somehow, this image felt. . .different. Familiar, almost. Brushing off the feeling, you focused your attention on Camilo as he pulled out a book, gently set another in its place, and the two of you were taken to a whole other room you didn't even know existed in Casita until today.
"Tell me one thing you like most," Camilo murmured in your ear.
The closeness of his body and the warmth of his breath on you sent you into a fog of complete flustered-ness. "Uh-Mu-music," you spluttered, saying the first thing that came to mind as you tried to force your stiffened body to relax.
Once again, Camilo smiled at you, giving the slightest chuckle, and turned to face the darkness in front of you. "Casita!" he called. "¡Por favor, consíganos una pista de baile y algo de música!"
Just then, the whole of the room seemed to shift, and next thing you knew, you were standing on what looked like a giant launchpad as multicolored lights and upbeat music activated quite suddenly.
"Gracias, Casita," Camilo added once he finished staring at the floor with a small grin, then turned to you sheepishly. "Hopefully this wasn't too much."
He was rubbing his hands with what you could only guess was nervousness. Smiling reassuringly, you grabbed his wrist and spun him around before dipping him.
"Not at all, Señor," you purred, smirking, making him blush and the two of you laughed, though his laugh was far more quiet and flustered from the sound of it.
You spent the next few hours dancing, and never before had you felt so happy. When you decided to take a break, Camilo asked Casita about going to his "camerino" so you two could rest and you were taken to a door that had Camilo's name written in gold on it. He led you inside, and while it was small, it wasn't cramped, so you were able to feel comfortable in it with him.
"I had fun with you today, Camilo," you sighed, feeling completely at ease for once. No fear, no enthusiasm, just. . .calm. Something you almost never got with anyone outside the family. But you still couldn't shake the feeling that this was all deja vu, something that's happened before. Even so, you kept brushing it off.
"I did, too," Camilo chuckled, smiling at you.
After a small pause, you murmured, "Mirabel and Antonio told me you were feeling down recently I had to ask. . .What was it that made you feel that way?"
Camilo looked away almost instantly. ". . .I. . .I've gone all my life trying to be like everyone else. I think that's actually why I have the Gift that I do. Me pretending to be someone I'm not. . .It was just for mierdas y risitas at first, like this one time last year I kept pretending to be my Papá Felíx and making fun of his height and voice just for fun." He chuckled a bit at the memory before his face became solemn again. ". . .But now. . .I'm not sure who I am anymore. . ."
You gazed at him for a moment, then placed a hand on his forearm, making his glistening green eyes meet your honey brown ones. ". . .Camilo. . ."
Just then, someone called your name. "Peni!"
The two of you flinched, then, after a heartbeat, Camilo took your hand and swiftly led you back to his room. "C'mon," he mumbled.
He took you to the balcony-like hallway just outside his room where you had a clear view of the front door where your parents were standing, looking past Abuela Alma and into Casita in search of you. Glancing past them, you saw that it was pitch black outside. Shit, you thought to yourself, exchanging a guilty glance with Camilo, who had an expression that told you he was thinking the same thing.
"Where have you two been?" Abuela demanded.
"We've been worried sick!" your Mamá Emma cried, her loud voice almost drowning out your Papá Anthony's hiss of, "Don't you ever do that again!"
"Meet me at the trading market tomorrow," Camilo whispered as you slunk away from him.
You blinked at him with a single nod to show that you heard, then followed your parents outside, waiting for the scolding you were sure to get once you got home for staying out so late.
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When you reached your house, both parents sat you down and stared at you sternly.
"What were you thinking?" Emma spat, glaring daggers at you. "Staying over there until eleven O'clock, with a boy, not even telling us where you were!"
"We've been to nearly every house in town looking for you," Anthony hissed.
"I-I'm sorry," you mumbled.
At your quiet, meek tone, both of them turned away, taking a breath. It was this that reminded you that no matter what you did, they loved you too much to be hard on you for too long whenever you made a mistake, even if you knew better, such as now. Emma was the first to look back at you, meanwhile, Anthony was still staring elsewhere, his hand over his mouth and his eyes narrowed.
"We understand that you're young," Emma began gently, "and that you just want to be happy and have fun. Just please tell us where you are next time, so that we know you're okay."
You dipped your head. "Yes, Mamá."
"And you don't get to leave this house until noon tomorrow, young lady," Anthony muttered.
You jerked your head up, nearly protested out loud, then clamped your mouth shut. If he noticed your actions, he ignored them and continued on.
"You will only be allowed out of the house at noon, and you cannot stay out any later than three. Do you hear me? If you leave at twelve tomorrow, I want you back here by three, okay?"
Even Emma looked surprised. "But, Anthony-"
"It's okay, Mamá," you replied gently. ". . .I'll follow your rules, Papá. Can I eat dinner now. . .?"
Anthony glanced at the clock. It was a quarter to midnight. Looking at your wide eyes though, he sighed. "It'll be ready in five minutes."
- Third-person POV -
Camilo was laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling with those same glistening eyes. After a few moments more of tossing and turning, he gave in and sat up, turning on the light. ". . .Okay, Peni," he mumbled. "You are the best, so you deserve the best."
The next few hours of his night were spent writing. Lots. . .and lots. . .of writing. He ignored Casita's three attempts to show him the clock to get him to go to bed. When he was finally done, he smiled at his work, once again trying to ignore Casita as she moved the clock closer to him. The a floorboard rose and tossed it in the air before another smacked it at the side of his head.
The clock bounced right off and he again, ignored it, smiling down at his papers like the big dope he is. When the floorboards bounced the clock upright so that he could see it was three-thirty, he rolled his eyes, still grinning.
"Alright, Casita," he murmured. "I'm going, I'm going."
He rose and lowered his hands a couple times, a gesture you'd normally make to an energetic dog or frantic horse. Then off the light went, and he was back in bed, falling asleep within heartbeats.
- Second-person POV -
Camilo was sitting on a picnic blanket on a hill with you, and you were laughing and making jokes with each other. He said something that made you push him away in the arm, and you were giggling, making him smile. Then you lapsed into your earlier conversation about him not knowing who he was.
"Well. . ." you murmured, slowly raising your head to look at him. "I know who you are."
He blinked at you, eager to hear your response. "You do?"
"Yeah." Suddenly, your gentle tone dropped and those gorgeous eyes that he'd become so comforted by glared at him. "You're a worthless freak!"
You threw different plates of food at him, and eventually, even the actual plate itself, screaming, "Get away from me, you worthless, faceless-"
"Camilo!"
Green eyes snapping open, Camilo jolted awake and sat up swiftly. Pepa had her head in the gap between the door and the doorframe and was staring at him sternly, but when she saw the fear on his face, she headed over to his side and placed a hand on his back.
In the doorway, his father and siblings were staring at him, each of them with concerned expressions.
"Oh, mijo, what happened?" Pepa breathed. "You never look this scared. . ."
If he hadn't just had such a nightmare, he would've denied her words of him being frightened. Instead, he just mumbled, "N-nothing. . .It was just a bad dream, that's all. . ."
Pepa made a sympathetic sound that resembled a coo and a groan. Camilo forced himself out of bed, murmuring, "I'll go start on my chores now," and weaving through his family before heading downstairs.
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