Tacenda || Carlos Madrigal x Reader

𝐗𝐗𝐈𝐈

'How much does she know?'

   Carlos stared at his sister. He was so bold, keeping his gaze even when she turned to meet his eyes. She looked away, cutting up the food on her plate.

'Why is he... staring at me..'

'Surely she can't know too much. Maybe she has selective hearing? No way someone can live with enhanced hearing all day every day. Does she even sleep?' Carlos never analyzed her sister. She was.. barely there. He only ever saw her during special events such as parties and meals, but never got a chance to get to know her.

How sad.

   "Dolores."

   She tensed at his tone, secreting a small squeak. 'Did I make it obvious? He isn't supposed to know that I know. But anyone with a brain knows that I can get around with knowing anything.'

"Yes?" Her tone was mellow and gently wiped her lips with a tissue.

Carlos said nothing after that. He leered at her with his singular visible eye. His stare was cold yet warm; keen yet soft.

He was trying to read her.

"Nothing." He stuffed the second arepa into his mouth. Then he stood up, "done."

"That's it?" Pepa looked at him. "No, no. You're going to eat some more. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, Mijo." She plated some rice on his empty ceramic dish, followed by various kinds of vegetables and meat.

"It's okay." He shook his head, stepping away from the chair and tucking it back under the table.

'He doesn't do that.' Dolores noticed the smallest thing, eying the chair before back up at him.

"Dios mío, Carlos, come on."

"He took leftovers from the fridge and ate ten minutes ago," Dolores said, speaking as she sliced her food into smaller pieces.

Carlos snapped his head to look at her. Was she covering for him? Or did Camilo do something stupid and the blame was pinned on him yet again? He was... confused, to say the least.

"Yeah." But he played along with it.

"Ay, of course, you did." Pepa took his plate back, eating whatever she put on it. "Leave and come back when we're finished. You're doing dishes today."

Carlos shrugged and walked towards the house. "Sure."

   "Don't forget, Mijo! You're starting Camilo's chores today!"

   "Yes!" He shouted back, eyebrows narrowing as he looked over his shoulder to make it clear with his mother—he's gonna do the work.

   His focus shifted to his sister once more, noticing how she didn't look up and regard him again. His stare lingered before he gave up.

   Carlos walked up the stairs, every step he took was more aggressive than the last. He looked down at his healed hand, picking out the glass that fused with his skin. He walked into his room, jolting at the messy sight.

   He forgot that he 'redecorated'.

   There were fewer mirrors on the wall, most were thrown to the floor and shattered. He let out the millionth sigh of the day, walking to his bed and taking a seat as he reached for his book.

   'It's almost finished.'

   He flipped through the remaining pages.

   'Thirty more.'

   He placed the bookmark on his lap, brushing his hair out of his face to get a better look at the words. He tied it back with an elastic, holding the book with one hand while the other twirled loose strands of hair.

   Flip.

   His eyes scanned the smooth pages, each word getting more addicting as he kept reading.

   Flip. 

   Each page turn meant getting closer and closer to the end of the story.

   Flip.

   His eyes widened when he read a particular sentence, engaging in the fiction more than he already was.

   Flip.

   Each page turn was followed by another.

   Flip.

   Until he made it to the end.

   'We were doomed from the start. The betrayal was no surprise, our love was simply a waiting game. My only regret is that I didn't pull the trigger first. I would fall in love with you all over again, even if it meant we ended like this. We should've known... I should have known.

   People like us never get the happy ending. I was blind by your beauty and grace, and it cost me my heart, body, and soul.

   Maybe in another life, my dearest.'

   He went to flip the page once more.

   But that was it.

   The end.

   Carlos closed the book, eyes fixated on the cover. His fingers brushed against the front cover, the title forever engraved in his head.

   Dearest, You Said.

   This is the most serene he's ever felt.

   He looked at the mirror that sat at the end of his bed. His eyes dug into the reflection, his mind jumping back and forth between different strong and negative emotions. He found himself compulsively shapeshifting, glitching between his appearance and yours as he gripped his head in his hands.

Knock knock.

   The book was knocked out of his hands and fell to the floor as he returned to his original self. He went to pick it up, only to get cut on the glass shards that were underneath it.

He winced, sucking on his finger to stop the bleeding. He looked up at his door, taking his book and placing it on his nightstand. "Coming!"

When he made it to the door, he pulled his finger away from his face, watching as the small cut meekly bled. "What?" He opened it, putting his finger back in his mouth.

   "We need to talk."

   His gaze laid upon his sister, scrunching his nose as he took a ragged breath. "No, we don't."

   "Your room is a mess."

   "That doesn't mean anything." Carlos seemed to naturally soften his voice when he spoke to Dolores. It's rare for them to speak, especially one-on-one. Sometimes he forgot what kind of a gift she got, yet he managed to quiet down whenever he was around her, almost as if he was subconsciously giving her a break from all the loud voices.

   "Carlos, we need to talk."

   Carlos put his hand down, pursing his lips and glancing away. "No."

   There is zero chance that Carlos will tell anyone how he felt. The regret that filled his lungs and the dejection that choked him.

   No one can know.

   "You can come out of your state of tacenda."

Why was she being so nice? To him out of all people.

He shook his head, looking down and no longer speaking. He knew that if he even made a sound the tears that rested behind his eyes would finally be free.

"It's okay." Dolores held his face and met his two visible eyes. "I can keep a secret."

Carlos bore into her dark brown eyes.

Eyes that matched his.

He took a step forward, pulling her into an embrace. He sniffled, shoulders jerking up and down as he held back everything the best he could.

"I'm sorry..."