𝕟𝕖𝕗𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕓𝕒𝕥𝕒 {𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕥𝕤}

ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ [xꜰᴇᴍ!ɢɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

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Camilo Madrigal x fem!gn!reader

she/they for the reader & he/him for Camilo

drable, comfort, angst

word count: 2093

!english isn't my first language, so there can be some grammar mistakes that I am sorry for in advance!

had a writer's block so i just started writing without a plan
this is what came out of it

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Friends don't look at friends that way.

They don't. Friends give each other playful glances. Knowing looks when someone said something that reminded them of one of their many inside jokes. Friends look at each other softly when the other shares their troubles with them. Friends' eyes are tired when the other does something stupid. Friends look at each other and you don't overthink it.

Camilo stopped looking at Y/N that way.

He used to, but something changed. She would catch him staring across the room and instead of his smile growing bigger, instead of waving at her, he would look away and his grin would vanish. Y/N would shove him when they would win a bet they had going with Camilo, expecting he would narrow his eyes and shove them back. But all he would do now is smile weakly avert their gaze and rub the place where he had been hit.

For some reason, Camilo didn't want to meet Y/N's eyes.

For some reason, it pained her more than she would like it to.

—

Friends don't touch each other that way.

Friends shove each other. Hit the back of the other's head. Tackle them to the ground when trying to win a race. Maybe even trip them over. They give rib crushing hugs when the other feels down. They high five one another. They hook their arms together when walking. Hit their arm repeatedly when something excites them. Friends touch each other and it's casual, normal like breathing.

Camilo started hugging Y/N more.

She liked running full speed at him with a question on her mind: "Is he going to catch me or step back and let me topple down to the ground?" Usually, it was the latter. His love for joking around was stronger than his love for affection. Camilo would fake his concern and offer her a hand only to snatch it back before she took it. He was a little shit like this. But it's been some time since Y/N last scratched her knees against the concrete. Camilo stopped letting her fall. Every time now, he would catch her.

Y/N isn't sure whether they should be concerned about the changes in his behavior. They aren't sure whether they should be happy about them either.

It wasn't just the hugs. After a long day of chores, the boy would rest his head on Y/N's shoulder and play with their fingers. If they appeared at dinner, Camilo would sit beside them close enough so their legs would brush against one another now and then. If they were having a bad hair day, Camilo would offer to brush their hair.

More often now is Camilo walking Y/N home if she stays too long at the casa.

One day, when the sun was long gone and the stars scattered across the dark blue blanket that was the sky, Y/N and Camilo walked side by side talking. Excitement could be heard in her voice as she was describing the flower statue Isabela had made of her previously that day. Too lost in the memory of seeing her own face made out of flowers, she failed to realize Camilo's eyes lowering to his hand. One he wrapped around Y/N's a few moments before. The girl didn't even notice.