we don't talk about us// Camilo Madrigal x oc

I19I

It was three days before Avon's 16th birthday. Camilo's had been exactly three months previous—and it seemed like things were finally looking up for Avon and Averly. Alma had mostly grown to respect them, with minimal distrust. 

"Morning, Ave," Camilo yawned, rolling onto his back. Avon's eyes slowly fluttered open. She took one look at Camilo's hair—which resembled a giant poof, and burst out laughing. Camilo rolled his eyes in mock annoyance. "That bad?" 

"Worse," Avon took Camilo's hand, pulling him up. She grabbed a comb from the side table, sitting behind him. 

"You're going to make it more poofy—" He complained loudly as Avon started to work. 

"Be quiet, Chameleon," Avon answered, separating his hair into sections. 

"Wait, what are you doing?" 

"You'll see." 

Ten minutes later, Camilo's hair had three braids that stuck out from his head in all directions. He glanced in the mirror, sighing. "You're enjoying this way too much, mi vida." 

Avon, who had wrapped her arms around her stomach to stop from shaking with laughter, collapsed on the floor when she saw his expression. 

Camilo shook his head, shifting his appearance back to normal. 

"Very funny," he pulled her to her feet, the contact of their hands causing tingles to spread up his arms. Avon grinned, leaning in to kiss him. He gently wrapped his arms around her, enjoying the feeling of warmth. 

Outside the door, Mirabel and Dolores were waiting for them to come out. 

"I wonder what they're still doing in there?" Mirabel wondered aloud, glancing at Dolores. Dolores's face was exasperated. 

"Making out again." 

Mirabel made a face. "Gross." 

"Be glad you couldn't hear what they were doing yesterday." 

Mirabel mimed slamming her head against the wall. 

_

The letter arrived at 3pm sharp, floating through the wind and landing right on Averly's bedside table. Averly recognized the penmanship right away, fear flooding like ice through her veins. She opened the letter slowly—

After all these years I have finally found you my love..I didn't want to believe you had left and taken my daughter with you, but it appears you have done just that. It's a shame we couldn't have worked things out properly. Since it's Avon's birthday in three days time, I will give you a week to collect your things and then I will come to take you home. 

Your's, Blagden Meliac 

It was entirely unnecessary for Blagden to sign his name, but Averly noted it as a threat. She brought the letter straight to Pepa and Bruno, who were sitting at the table. 

"What does this mean, Averly?" Pepa asked, raising her eyebrows. "Is Blagden really coming here?" 

Averly's eyes were downcast. "I think so." 

Bruno stood up, kissing Averly on the forehead. "We'll find a way to stop him." 

"There's only one way," Averly said sadly. "We have to give him what he wants." 

"You can't go back there," Pepa said immediately. "You just can't. It's too dangerous." 

"We have to tell Alma," Averly shook her head. "I'm so sorry about all of this." 

"It's not your fault, mi amour," Bruno blinked. 

None of them were aware that Alma had been listening to the whole conversation. And that she had a plan of her own brewing.