Todays fanart is by yyyoanaxa! I love the way they drew the covers, they look so realistic!! This is the scene from Diamong Angel where Camilo finally wakes up. Camilo looks so sweet here :)))))
BACK TO THE STORY
Rumbling murmurs of the crowd rolled like seasickness. Your fingers squeezed around the heavy, maroon velvet curtain. The shiny fabric felt plush under your grip: too regal, too luxurious, too dazzling for you. Just like this play.
Peeking out from behind the curtain, your panicked eyes darted across the blurred throng of faces. The entire village had dutifully swarmed over Casita's backyard lawn like bees. Whispering, buzzing, laughing.
"How did you know I that play guitar?" You nervously complained to Bruno, your hands dancing in little excited jitters. "I know nothing about your play! I didn't even know you wanted me to sing, let alone be your opening act!"
"You'll be fine, don't be nervous!" Bruno blundered, his face tensed in a forced, fanatical grin. But the sweat dewing around his hairline and his twitchy fidgets exposed Bruno's own nerves. Poor Bruno. Alma had drowned him in unnecessary pressure.
At breakfast, Alma had warningly emphasized, "The night must be perfect! You are representing La Familia Madrigal!"
Before the curtain had even been drawn, Alma disdainfully regarded the play as a failed endeavor. Mirabel and Bruno, the unofficial family outcasts, felt determined to prove her wrong.
With her rickety sewing machine, Mirabel had fabricated beautiful costumes for the entire cast. Despite your terrified hesitation to participate, even you couldn't deny the gorgeous style of your assigned costume. You swiveled your head to admire the soft candlelight dress. Breezy, open sleeves flowed from your arms. The gentle dip of the hem fluttered just above your knees in the warm May air. With yellow forsythia flowers braided into your hair, Mirabel had transformed you into a spring goddess.
Would it be enough to impress the crowd? What if your voice squeakily cracked like a dehydrated chipmunk? What if you botched the jumbly words to Bruno's original song? Everyone will be watching.
"Bruno," you wailed, queasily leaning the back of your head against the hard-wood frame of the stage. "I don't think I can do this." Your heart flopped, a mutated, monster moth in your chest.
"You can do it!" Bruno insisted, heavily dumping a enchanting guitar into your arms. Bright yellow, like the forsythias. Trails of sparkly, golden glitter swirled across its body, as if Bruno had captured the unearthly glory of a miracle candle in the instrument.
"The village is getting impatient." Alma announced, stepping backstage and stiffly placing the Candella candle stump into Bruno's bony hands. "Remember, tonight must go perfectly." As she strode back to her front-row seat, a flash of intense defiance crackled in Bruno's eyes.
Woah. There's still tension between those two? I thought they'd resolved everything, it's been weeks since Bruno returned!
Unnerved, Bruno frowned at the dusty wood floor, blinking rapidly. Bruno's actors, a young group of villagers, supportively gathered around him.
"You got this, Bruno!"
"Yeah, you're the best!"
"We're all ready!"
"Alright, alright," Bruno awkwardly chuckled, weighing the gray-white candle back and forth in his two hands. With an embarrassed cough, he self-consciously glanced at you. "During rehearsals, we never actually lit the candle, so we always had this little saying to start off our run-throughs..."
As if compelled by an invisible call, Bruno's actors solemnly stacked their hands in a chaotic tangle of fingers. As they breathed close together, the air sparkled with anticipation. Their eyes clung to Bruno, waiting for his words to commence the play.
Bruno Bruno grinned, determination steadying his gaze. "Light it up."
Bruno's party of teenagers and young adults exploded into whoops and cheers. Bruno's cheeks glowed with pride. Suddenly, he struck a match, pushing it against the candle wick. A red flame burst into color.
Even though your father and Sebastian had used the candle sparingly, the molten stump had burned dangerously low. How much time does our miracle have left? You'd be surprised if the dreary, gray lump lasted for even five minutes more. Inexplicably, you felt a jab of disappointed sadness.
Then there will be nothing left of our Encanto.
"You're up," Bruno gently prompted, crossing his fingers for you with a shy smile. "Light it up, (y/n). They'll love you."
Extending onto the toes of your shiny black shoes, you scissored your legs through the thick air, pushing yourself higher with your free hand.
A gust of wind rustled your hair, and you relaxed into its smooth current. Weightlessly, you drifted into the low, dying sunset light, rising above the audience.
Excited chatter burst throughout the audience, chased by wild applause. Outlined by an ethereal halo of light, the appearance of your flying, golden persona must have awed the audience.
Thanks, Mirabel. You silently thanked, grateful for her talent to transform you to a breathtaking creature that belonged among the burning embers of the sun.
Shimmering flecks of glitter cascaded onto the audience, magical rain. You scooped handfuls of synthesized stardust from your pockets to drizzle overhead. An appreciative hush breathed through the crowd. Even Alma dipped her grayed head approvingly.
Shakily, your fingers grazed over the cold steel of the guitar strings. With a rattly breath, you plucked the first string, vibrating a handsome, rich tone throughout the sunset night. You began to sing.
My shoulders are restless from sitting so still, fairy dust settled on my window sill
and through that window's a strawberry sky
lace up my wings, i'm ready to fly
As your nerves softened, the words to the song Bruno had written for your part spilled from your mouth, liquid song.
I grew up in a little home town
these roads know my feet, but it's still the ground
I'll catch the next sunset, and swim in the light
lace up my wings, i'm ready to fly
The echoey acoustics of the theatre spun your voice into glistening silk. Strumming the guitar lightly, you swept above the audience.
Hello, little birds,
flitting fast away,
where do you go
'cause I know I can't stay
Lace up my wings, i'm ready to fly
A wish in my pocket to toss in the sky
From below, Mirabel loosely smiled as she caught your eye, wearing a wonderstruck expression. You look beautiful, Julieta mouthed from beside her daughter.
I braided feathers through my hair
Found a white angel dress to wear
If I find someone to hold my hand
Will they soar with me or will I land
Sprinkled in shivers and silver stars,
If I trip on Venus and crack my heart
The swirls of the galaxy will hold me while I cry,
so lace up my wings, i'm ready fly
The audience was yours. Sweet adrenaline coursed through you as you twirled in the wind.
Hello, little stars,
singing far away
Out there seems hard,
But I know I can't stay
Lace up my wings, i'm ready to fly
A wish in my pocket to toss to-
Your breath died, chopping off your words with a startled squeak. There. By the front row. There he is.
Camilo sat, cross-legged in the grass. The dim evening light reflected on his face. His green eyes captured you with a confused, admiring smile.
Like magic, the cool night gently clicked into perfection. Canilo was awake. For real. And you'd never let him go again.
I'll travel the clouds,
and when i'm done, i'll bathe in the moonlight and die with the sun
Wanderlust gazing from the back porch
adventure is out there, like never before
Everyone shone, watching you. But your eyes glowed only for Camilo. Even in the packed field, your voice sang for him alone.
Camilo grinned, throwing his head back to gaze at you. His hair flopped backward.
kick off your shoes, barefoot in the grass
jump all alone, and don't look back
hello to the wind, can I catch a ride
I've wild hair, and a heart that's light
Don't you miss me, try not to cry
Run to the backyard, look up at the sky,
I've laced up my wings, away i'll fly
A wish in my pocket to toss to the sky
The final, sweet note drifted away like a cloud. After a surreal, enraptured pause, cheers and clapping lauded your song. Flushed and laughing, your toes gracefully lighted on the ground. Your shoes sunk into the grass heavily, indicating that Bruno had blown out the candle.
"Hey," you breathlessly beamed down at Camilo. He deliberately raised himself to his feet, smirking as his height towered over you.
"Hey, señorita. You were good," Camilo chuckled, plucking a single yellow forsythia from your hair.
"Hey, put that back," you jokingly complained, rolling your eyes. "Mirabel's gonna kill me if I mess up her costume."
"Here, let me put it back," Camilo smoothly agreed. His thumb and pointer finger threaded the flower through your hair while the heel of his hand warmly steadied against your face. A happy shiver rustled through you at his touch.
But there was something off with Camilo's coy smirk. With the flirtatious way his hand slid down to your jawline. With the amused, deliberate way his eyes studied your face as he touched you, as if testing your boundaries.
His next words pulled from your heart like a long, serrated thorn.
"Tell me your name, señorita."