come to brazil: corbyn besson

𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒐𝒄𝒉𝒐; 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍.

As expected about twenty minutes later, mamá, papá and Abuela burst into the bedroom where Corbyn and I were talking. I had been preparing for this since I had walked off the beach, being scolded didn't seem like that big of a deal anymore.

"Get away from my hija." Mamá scowled.

"Mamá." I scowled back at her.

"Qué fue eso?" Was all Abuela managed to say. But before I could answer her, mamá spoke again.

"Do you know how embarrassing that was?" She half-shrieked, her Spanish accent really came through, it always did when she was mad. I flinched, but I disguised it.

"I don't know about you, but I'd rather be embarrassed than marry someone I didn't love." I stood up to face her properly.

"We thought you loved Mateo!" Papá argued, stepping forward. He didn't look as mad as mamá and Abuela.

"Why wouldn't you?" Abuela asked.

"Because I love Corbyn," I said. 

"But he is American," Mamá said as if that was a valid point. Before I could say anything, Corbyn stood up and stood beside me.

"Yeah, I'm American." He said, "But I really, really, love Ronnie."

"And I love him," I said. Mamá buried her head in her hands and Abuela shook her head slowly, like this was the worst thing I could've possibly done. Mamá just left the room, clearly not knowing what to say or do, Abuela followed. Then, papá gave me a somewhat sympathetic smile before leaving the room also. 

"I've caused so much drama." Corbyn sighed, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." I frowned, sitting back on the bed. Corbyn sat on the bed also, letting me lean on his chest while he stroked my hair, reassuringly. "I just don't get why my family can't except that I love someone who isn't Spanish." 

"I did feel a bit offended." Corbyn laughed.

"I'm sorry." I turned my head to look up at him and he smiled and kissed me on the forehead. 

"It's alright." He sighed, putting one arm behind his head. "You're not leaving me anytime soon though, right?"

"Never." I shook my head.

"Good." Corbyn grinned, "Because I love you so much, and I don't plan on leaving you." We kissed again. "What's gonna happen now?" He asked when we broke off.

"By the looks of things, I'll attempt to figure it out with my parents, then I'll probably go to Cuba while you're on tour." I shrugged, "Wait, why aren't you on tour?"

"I made the guys set it back a week, we weren't doing any shows this week anyway. I guess next week it's just straight into shows, which me and the guys are fine with." Corbyn said, "I just needed to come here."

"That's sweet." I smiled, "After Cuba, I'll come back to LA, I promise."

"Then, we can officially start our future." Corbyn grinned, "It sounds amazing so far." 

"Yeah." I agreed. Then we sat in comfortable silence.

"Ronnie, can I speak with you?" Mamá asked just as me and Corbyn were headed out for a walk.

"I'll catch up to you." I nodded at him.

"Ok," Corbyn said, kissing me quickly on the cheek. Once the door shut, I turned back to her, expecting another scolding. 

"Lo siento." Mamá apologised. I was taken aback. Why was she being sympathetic? I shuffled my feet awkwardly, wondering what I should say. She was my mother, after all. 

"It's ok." I finally said. There was silence. "I want you to know that I really do love Corbyn, a lot." I added, "And you'd be stupid to not see he doesn't love me back, he flew all the way here just to tell me so." Mamá looked ashamed. 

"Lo siento." She repeated, clearly not knowing what to say. "I was just being cautious, no one in this family has ever married an American. I guess that's why I was so against Corbyn." Mamá bit her lip, "But I know he will treat you right. And if he doesn't, lo va a lamentar."

I laughed at that and she smiled.

"Te amo, Mamá." I grinned, pulling her into a hug.

"Yo también te quiero, cariño." She sniffed. When we pulled apart, I asked:

"Where's Abuela? Is she still mad?" 

"She'll be fine." Mamá dismissed, "When she sees how great Corbyn is, she will understand."

"Let's hope so." I sighed, "And papá?"

"He got over it quicker than I did, but he still wants to get to know Corbyn, make sure he is worthy." She smiled, I smiled back. "Now, go have fun with Corbyn. Abuela's going to make dinner."

"Gracias, te veo pronto." I waved her goodbye and went out of the house. To my surprise, down the street was Corbyn talking to Abuela, and she seemed to be half-smiling, holding some shopping bags. She must've gone to the shop for ingredients. "Hey," I said, when I approached them, kissing on Corbyn on the cheek.

"Hey." He smiled, "Your abuela was just telling me about how she used to own a restaurant."

"I was a muy bien chef." Abuela nodded, obviously proud of herself. 

"I'm sure you still are." Corbyn smiled. Abuela grinned at him before turning to me,

"He is not as expected." She shrugged, "Wait until you see dinner." Abuela turned back to Corbyn.

"I look forward to it." He nodded. 

"Adiós." Abuela gave Corbyn one last smile before heading back to the house. 

"You have no idea how glad I am to see you're getting along with her." I grinned at him. He kissed me, quickly.

"It wasn't easy, you know. At first, I tried introducing myself and she gave me a dirty look and blanked me." Corbyn laughed.

"That sounds like Abuela." I sighed.

"But as soon as I started talking about how the food smelled good around here, she started talking all about it." Corbyn shrugged, "I appreciated the small talk." 

"She seems to really like you, already." I smiled, "Compliment her food and she's pretty much won over." 

"At least I'm doing something right." Corbyn beamed, putting an arm around me. "Come on. Show me this beautiful city that you currently call home." 

𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆.
"𝑺𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏' 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈"