Prompt: "Don't do this to yourself."
Requested by: Soapy_Romance (on Ao3)
Warnings: TW- Self Harm, Low Esteem, Angst, Swearing, Hurt/Comfort
NOTE: PLEASE DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THIS WILL TRIGGER YOU. MOST OF THIS ONESHOT CONTAINS TRIGGERING THEMES AND CONTENT. I HAVE MORE CHAPTERS IN THE WORKS. PLEASE, FOR YOUR HEALTH, DO NOT READ IF THIS IS A SENSITIVE TOPIC. SKIP TO THE NEXT CHAPTER.
The room is silent. You sit at the edge of Camilo's bed— considering you spend so much time with him, it's no surprise— and stare at the floor. With tense hands, you grip at your arms, digging your mostly bitten off nails into your skin. The day had been a lot to handle, and honestly, you never were the type to handle stress.
Hot tears prick your eyes, threatening to spill over. In a futile attempt to stop them, you keep your eyes open as wide as possible, biting your lip to create some form of distraction. Unfortunately, it doesn't work, and you feel a tear glide down your cheek. Immediately, you take a deep breath, blinking at last. As more fall, you let go, tightening your hold on your arms, sliding them up to your shoulders, and slowly curling more and more into yourself.
Loud sobs rack your body, leaving you nearly breathless as you gasp for air. The air feels stuffy in a way that it almost seems as if it's slowly suffocating you. Why? The thought fleetingly crosses your mind, but falls away just as quick. Even as you shake, jolting each time you sniffle and cry, you aren't sure why you're so upset. Thoughts vaguely dance in your mind, and the moment it's gone, you can't remember what it was.
For what feels like hours, your chest heaves with each breath. Through bleary eyes you can see the wooden floor of his room, finally noticing yourself balled up on it. When had you slid off the bed?
Your head pounds from the sheer amount of tension built up from crying, and you drop the thought at its presence. Hiccups echo throughout the room every now and then as you lean your head back against his bed. With closed eyes, you frown at the ceiling, fighting the urge to allow more tears to fall.
⚠️TRIGGER WARNING STARTS HERE⚠️
Endless thoughts flood your mind: memories, questions, and yourself. Why yourself? That's a simple question if you want just a single answer: you aren't worth it. The long answer? Fuck, there's too many to even explain. You're a terrible person, you're pretty sure no one cares, you aren't pretty, you're just not important, you don't have anything special about you, you only bother people, you trick them into thinking you're nice— after all, you are the worst person you know— and you're... well... worthless. What other way is there to put it?
Throwing your head back down, you bite at your lip, beginning to draw blood. Suddenly, an idea comes to mind— no. No. You swore you wouldn't do it. You won't do it. However tempting it may be, you won't.
A sinking feeling rises in your gut, making you shiver anxiously. You try to purge the thought from mind, but the more you try, the more it seems to draw you in.
Your breathing deepens as you wrap your arms tighter around yourself, squeezing your eyes shut on instinct. No. No...
Again, the very air feels like it's constricting your oxygen. Your lip quivers involuntarily before you let out a choked sob. Tensing up once more, you writhe in discomfort.
⚠️TRIGGER WARNING! SELF-HARM BEGINS HERE⚠️
Ultimately, you jolt to your feet, stumbling over towards the bathroom in his room. Mindlessly, you sling open the drawer, digging through it until you find it. A razor blade. Taking it, you walk out of the bathroom and back into his room to stand in front of one of the body-length mirrors against the wall.
As you stand there, you gaze at the body reflected in front of you. You frown at the tear-stained face. Your face is red, eyes puffy. Your body... too... big. Too skinny? Too... repulsive. You aren't even the right height. Your hair's a mess, your clothes are disheveled, your face isn't the right shape, nothing... nothing is right. Absolutely nothing. How could anyone love... this?
More tears gather in your eyes at the thought.
That's because they don't, right? They just... pity you.
Again, you bite your lip, shakily bringing the blade up to your arm. Slowly, you ghost it over your skin in no particular pattern. The sharp edge grazes across your forearm, stopping at the end of your wrist.
Sucking in a sharp breath, you press it into your skin, feeling the stinging pain that follows. The blood runs down your arm in quick lines.
As you pull the blade back slightly, you feel a sense of relief at the pain the wound brings. For a moment, you still, watching the blood drip onto your hand. After all, you didn't want to ruin Camilo's floor, much less get blood stains on anything.
All too soon, the moment passes and a wave of guilt washes over you. You swore you wouldn't do this. You promised yourself you'd do better. Although your tears seemed to stop, you feel them crashing down once more. What are you doing? You promised... Well, you can't forget, you're a liar. A fucking liar. That's all you'll ever be.
Gritting your teeth, you hastily slash your arm again and stare at your reflection with hatred.
____________________
"Bye!" Camilo calls out happily to a friend of his.
Loud chatter fills the village square, people going here and there to converse and gather any necessities from the different stands and shops.
As he walks towards another shop— a sort of chore he holds, offering help to anyone in town— he smiles at various people, old and young alike. Waving to each individual, he strides into the little place. "¡Hola! ¿Necesita ayuda con algo?"
The villager at the counter smiles at him, waving him off happily. "No, señor. ¡Gracias!"
Every now and then he stops to help when someone needs it, but otherwise, the day is surprisingly laid back compared to most. So, with a smile on his face, Camilo trots towards Casita. It'd been a few hours since he left for town and honestly, he just wants to see you. Suppose it's a break, if you will.
He hums absentmindedly as he stops by the kitchen first. Julieta was always making some sort of snack.
"Hola, tía Julieta," he says happily while eyeing the arepas she's currently making.
Julieta glances over her shoulder, tossing a towel over it and giving the boy a knowing smile. "Ah, Camilo. Are you finished with your chores?"
Sheepishly, Camilo rubs the back of his neck. "Uh... no? But- but- but!" He stutters his words out, gesturing wildly to get his point across, "I'm just taking a break! I was gonna check on (Y/N) before heading back to town."
With a roll of her eyes, Julieta steps over to a plate of freshly made arepas, tossing a few to Camilo. "Alright. Just be quick, okay? Don't want your mamá to know you're not in town."
Immediately, Camilo hurries to catch the arepas, sending his tía a grin once he does. "¡Gracias!"
With that, the boy slinks off towards his room, knowing you liked to spend time there if you were over at the time. He ascends the steps, munching on an arepa as he walks. Nearing the door, he slows his pace before gently pushing open the door. "Hola, mí vi-"
He stops in his tracks, all thoughts in mind dispersing at once.
____________________
Angrily, you cut, again, and again, and again. Each time the cycle repeats. Pain. Relief. Guilt. Shame. Pain. Relief. Guilt. Shame.
At some point, that anger shifts into... regret? Sadness? You aren't even sure at this point, letting out a whimper at your last cut.
"Hola, mi vi-"
You freeze, eyes blown wide in horror as you turn around, finding Camilo staring at you. The mirror, posed right in front of the door, reflects your bloody arm and wrist. The blade in your hand drops from the scare, and for a moment, you're paralyzed.
On his side, he dropped the arepas in his hands, mouth falling open in shock. His eyes slowly trail from your face to your wrist and arm, widening at the bloody mess. All at once he snaps his eyes back up to meet yours, taking a step forward.
Finally, your limbs seem to move, and you bolt into the bathroom, locking the door behind you. Tears begin gathering in your eyes at full force, a sense of dread filling your stomach much worse than ever before. God, what have you done? He saw you. What is he thinking? That you're some lunatic whose head isn't screwed on right? Probably. That you aren't worth it after all? Probably. That something is wrong with you? Most definitely.
Your vision blurs heavily as hot tears spill down your face. You have to fight not to start gasping or hiccuping. Instead, you slowly slide down the door, bowing your head into your legs, curling into a ball as tight as possible. The position is uncomfortable, but at least it feels like you can block out the outside world that way.
The door vibrates against your back as Camilo begins banging on it, hitting it as hard as possible. "(Y/N)! Open the door, please! Don't do this to yourself! I just want to help you!" The door muffles his shouting, but the panic in his voice is unmistakable, making you feel even worse.
Everything seems to stop. He stops banging against the door, and you make no sound, tightly coiled into yourself. Minutes pass like this, allowing you to think.
Where can you go? You can't exactly hide this from him anymore. He already knows; it's too late. And there's no window to at least escape from.
You jump from solution to solution, coming up empty-handed at each idea. With a gulp, you realize you have to face him, that you have to open the door. Is he even still there? You press your ear to the wood, straining to listen for any type of noise. However, there's none. He must be gone.
Backing up, you sigh, unsure if you're relieved or hurt that he decided to leave. Maybe he finally realized who you really were? How terrible of a person you are?
Fending off the stinging sensation behind your eyes, you close your eyes, breathing in slowly. That's it. What's the point? Maybe you should just cut again, let yourself slowly bleed out? The urge grows in intensity, and you find your fists shaking at your sides. You're so lost in thought that you jump when a soft knock raps against the door.
⚠️SELF-HARM ENDS HERE⚠️
"¿Mi vida? ¿Por favor?" His voice is strained, breaking on the last sentence.
You stare at the door, surprised and terrified. Do you really want him to see you like this? But... do you really have a choice?
Holding your breath, you shakily grasp the lock, unlocking and pulling the door open. As you meet eyes with Camilo, your heart breaks. His eyes are red, unshed tears masking his irises.
The second your eyes meet, his own widen. Slowly, he steps towards you, ensuring you aren't freaked out. Once he's reached you, he embraces you softly.
His arms encircle you, trapping your arms to your sides. However, that doesn't bother you. You don't really think you'd have the strength to do anything but lean into his touch.
Tightening his grasp around you, he buries his head into the crook of your neck, his cold nose pressing into your bare skin. As if a switch is flipped, the floodgates open, and you struggle to not make any sound as tears slip out.
Camilo moves so his chin is resting on your shoulder, one hand playing with your hair while the other rubs soothing circles onto your back.
Your body shakes, and you sniffle softly. Feeling your trembling form, Camilo presses his lips to your bare shoulder. "It's alright. I'm here." His voice whispers in your ear gently, fanning the warm breath against you.
For a while Camilo holds you in his arms, whispering soothing words as you cling onto him desperately. Finally, when your sobs and uneven breaths fall into more of a rhythmic pattern, he pulls back, tucking a strand of your hair away.
Shamefully, your gaze sticks to the floor, too guilty to see his disappointment.
He reaches out, tilting your chin up to him so he can see your face. As you look up, you're taken aback. He doesn't stare at you with disappoint. Or disgust. No, instead he holds a loving gaze. A gaze reserved for something so precious that could break if in any other's hands.
Your breath hitches in your throat, finding yourself to be slightly embarrassed by his gaze.
His eyes then sweep over your form, lingering on your arms. Or more specifically, your wounds. You shift uncomfortably, waiting for him to say something. After a beat of silence, his voice comes out lowly, quietly. "Can I help you clean them?" His expression is pleading, pained at the fact that'd you do such a thing to yourself.
Nodding your head, you allow him to pull you to your feet. He leads you to the sink, picking you up— which does startle you at first— and setting you on the counter. You wait as he gathers whatever necessary to clean your arm. Just glancing back down brings a pang of guilt. All of those marks...
Camilo walks back up to you, setting down a rag before picking your chin back up. "Hey," he says softly, "you're beautiful."
Those few words send your heart pounding. His loving gaze is enough to make you flush, little butterflies filling your stomach.
As you look away he picks the rag back up, wetting it with cold water. "Hold still. This might sting," he warns. You simply not, hissing lightly as the cold sensation presses onto your skin. Gently, he wipes off all of the blood. Once finished, he sets the item aside, hurrying out the door. "Stay right there! I'll be right back, ¡hermosa!"
You blink, settling against the wall while looking at your arms.
____________________
Camilo slides down the railing as Casita makes the steps appear. Without stopping, he hurries towards the kitchen. Just as he appears in the threshold, he shifts into Antonio before running up to Julieta.
"Ah! Antonio. Your mamá was looking for you, actually. I think she went to your room, if you would go meet her."
With a smile, he steps up to her. "Okay! Can I have an arepa, please?" He gives his tía his best puppy eyes— which has to be the best in town considering how much experience he's had at doing so.
Laughing lightly, Julieta hands a couple arepas to him, ruffling his hair before the boy dashes off.
Once out of sight, Camilo shifts back into himself. He steps back into his room, making a beeline for the bathroom when something shiny catches his eye.
Stopping in his tracks, Camilo eyes the item, unsure of what it is until he approaches the foot of the mirror. A razor blade. Not only that, but one covered in blood. That's what he had seen you drop when he walked in earlier.
His expression contorts into a mix between pain and regret. How hadn't he noticed? What drove you to do this?
He stares at the blade warily, casting a quick glance towards the bathroom door to ensure you weren't looking. In one swift movement, he picks up the bloody item, holding it between his forefinger and thumb, before tossing it into a nearby trash can.
____________________
⚠️TRIGGER WARNING ENDS HERE⚠️
The door swings back open, revealing Camilo holding two arepas. You smile slightly, watching as he grins at you, setting one down on the counter before handing the other to you.
"Here, this'll help."
Although your appetite is shot, you eat the food— mainly for Camilo's sake. Immediately, the wounds fade, smoothing over into healed skin. You watch in amazement, still starstruck by the Madrigal's magic. As the wounds fade, however, you notice the scars still stay. A brand that will forever mar your body.
You don't realize that you've spaced out until Camilo's hand touches your shoulder. "Do you want to just relax for a little while?" He suggests, softly.
The idea is nice, something you didn't realize you were craving until this moment. So, you give him a nod, sliding off the counter and following him towards his bed. He lets you sit down first, then slides next to you and wraps his arms around your waist. Slowly, you hug him back, resting your chin on his shoulder.
For a while, the two of you are silent, enjoying the other's company. Finally, Camilo speaks up. "Is... is it okay if I ask why?"
At his words, you stiffen, feeling completely ashamed and embarrassed at the thought of explaining yourself. It's such a stupid reason, isn't it?
He pulls back enough to see your face, cupping your cheek and running a thumb over your skin. "Hey, it's okay. I promise, I won't judge," he whispers assuringly.
With bated breath, you search his eyes, finding nothing but affection and worry within. Allowing the comforting movement of his thumb to calm you, you lean further into his touch, swallowing thickly before answering. "I..." Your voice nearly gives out. Why is this so hard to say? Camilo waits patiently, caressing your side with his other hand reassuringly. Clearing your throat, you try again. "I just... I don't deserve this..."
Camilo's eyebrows crease in confusion. "What do you mean?" He questions.
"I don't... I don't deserve.. this! Any of this!" You pull out of his grasp, gesturing around yourself. "I'm a terrible person! I constantly say the wrong thing, hurt other people, lie to everyone, hurt myself..," your voice rises sharply before falling flat. "I just... why do you care about me?"
You look back up to find Camilo's mouth open in shock. He looks genuinely surprised at your little outburst.
His hand grasps tightly onto yours, drawing your attention from his face as he intertwines your fingers. "(Y/N)... Listen to me." You stare down at your lap, but he quickly tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes. "Look at me. You're perfect. You're a wonderful person. Everyone loves you! Even the kids in town questioned where you were earlier today. You know why?" You shake your head. "Because you're amazing. You're fun to be around, you're really funny, you're sweet, you're caring, you just... you're everything."
Your eyes widen at his words. Slowly, you look away, thinking. "I- I'm not..." You trail off, unsure of what to really say.
"Mi vida, you're the world to lots of people here in Encanto. Trust me, plenty of people envy you."
Scrunching your nose in disgust, you turn back to him. "Why would they envy me? I'm nothing! ...There are so many other prettier girls... So many talented people... So, why envy.. me?" Your words rise swiftly but end as a whisper when you reach your question.
Camilo's eyes soften. He gets it now. Why you did what you did. What you truly think of yourself. The bed creaks slightly under his weight as he moves forward, cupping your face with his hands. "Why not envy you? You're breathtaking. You're talented! You can do so much, (Y/N)." He whispers softly, gazing into your eyes. "You aren't nothing. Lots of people would agree. And those who don't? Well, they aren't worth it. There's always someone who has something to say, but it isn't because you're nothing.
"I mean, there are people in the village who hate us, the Madrigals. But other people still love us. And those are the people who matter," he finishes. You stare at him with glassy eyes, overwhelmed by his words. Overwhelmed in a good way. "But you know whose opinion matters most?" he continues, "Yours." At that word, he shifts into you. You stare wide-eyed at yourself, seeing yourself stare back at you with love. "And I think you're beautiful."
You break. Those words send your tears rushing down, and you launch forward into Camilo's arms as he shifts back into himself. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, squeezing you tightly. As you calm down, he releases you, pulling back. He stares into your eyes before gently picking up your arm, tracing the scars with his finger.
With a teary smile, you watch him trace them, slowly leaning down to press his lips against that skin. Your heart pounds, heat rushing to your face as he kisses the skin softly, making his way up your arm. As he kisses the last scar on that one, he meets your gaze, smirking and moving towards your other arm. Again, he repeats this process, sending you into a nervous, yet happy state. How could someone be so perfect?
As if he read your mind, he kisses the final scar on your arm, leaning back up to meet your face. He reaches out, tucking a strand of your hair away. Slowly, he leans in, stopping just before he reaches your lips. "You're perfect, (Y/N)." His breath fans your own lips, making a shiver run down your back.
Camilo leans further, pressing his lips to yours softly. Your eyes flutter shut as you wrap your arms around his neck, utterly blissful in this moment. Reciprocating, Camilo wraps one arm around you, running his hands through your hair with his other. His lips move passionately against your own, setting your entire body on fire. He tilts your head back, leaning over you slightly to deepen the kiss. The two of you only pull away when you need air, breathing heavily as he leans his forehead against yours.
Tracing your jaw with his hand, Camilo smiles. "Even if you don't think you're amazing, I do. And I'll do whatever it takes to help you understand that."
A/N- Hello! Good God, this oneshot turned into the longest one yet. That's fine though, more enjoyment, no? Also, please know, if you're struggling with self-harm or any kind of self doubt, don't hesitate to reach out to someone. I've been there myself, and honestly, it's a dark path to take. Even if you don't want to tell anyone, try to surround yourself with those who love you.
If you don't have anyone to talk to, I'm more than willing to listen, even if you just need to vent. I promise, you're beautiful and talented. People do care, and the world would be so much darker without you. Think about that, okay?
I hope you enjoyed this oneshot! I have another that's gonna be posted right after this in case someone wanted to read a new chapter but would be triggered by the dark themes. Have a good day/night, and stay safe! Love you, and stay strong!
-TheMadHatter<3