━ ⭒─⭑━
Today felt different for Camilo, lighter somehow, as if the morning air carried a hint of promise. From the moment he woke, his mind was teeming with thoughts of you. Lately, the dynamics between the two of you had shifted; gone were the days of him playing childish tricks on you followed by your exasperated scolds, instead replaced by meaningful conversations tinged with understanding and, dare he admit, a touch of affection. Somewhere along the line, without him even realizing it, his perception of you shifted, and now he finds himself drawn to you in a way he can't quite explain.
Racing down the stairs of Casita, he barely managed to grab a bite, his response to Pepa's inquiring gaze muffled by a mouthful of bread. "Just heading out," he muttered, the underlying message clear in his haste: he couldn't wait to meet you.
The jog to your shop did little to quell the smile that played on his lips, a smile born from the budding realization that his feelings for you might be evolving. Arriving at your shop, breathless and eager, he's met with disappointment—the door is locked, and a note reading "Be back, on lunch" greets him instead of your familiar face. Frustrated, he kicks at a stray pebble, contemplating how to kill time until your return.
That's when he spots Mirabel making her way down the road, her steps drawing her ever closer down the path towards him. A spark of mischief ignites within him, and before he can second-guess the impulse, he shifts into your form, taking on your appearance with an accuracy that spoke of his keen observational skills, just as Mirabel called out in greeting.
Turning around just in time to meet Mirabel's approach with a smile he imagines you might give—sweet and kind—he greeted, "Hey, Mirabel!" His voice, now yours, carried the unique timbre and inflections that were distinctly you.
The conversation flows easily at first, Camilo slipping into your mannerisms with practiced ease, navigating through the pleasantries and everyday small talk: discussing the shop, the clients, and the simple ebb and flow of daily life.
Everything proceeded without a hitch until Mirabel, with a hint of curiosity, ventured a question that veered into more personal territory and asked, "So, how have you and Camilo been?"
Caught in the moment and perhaps too invested in his impersonation, Camilo found himself responding with a sincerity that caught even him off guard. "Oh, we've been good. He's actually pretty cool," he found himself saying, momentarily forgetting his guise amidst the authenticity of the moment.
Mirabel's response was immediate silence, her eyes narrowing in suspicion as she digested the words. "Camilo, cool?"
Realizing his slip-up, Camilo panics internally. You would never openly praise him like that. With a nervous laugh, he nudges Mirabel, hastily, "Ha! C'mon, Mira. You should have seen your face. We both know those words practically contradict each other's existence!"
Mirabel's skepticism didn't wane as she eyed Camilo critically, her "Yeah?" laced with doubt.
Yet, seizing the moment to salvage his ruse, Camilo leaned into his facade with gusto. "Oh, come on, Mira. You know me better," he quipped, channeling your supposed exasperation. "That tramposo, always a whirlwind of mischief. As if I'd suddenly sing praises of his antics."
Her suspicion seemed to waver, replaced by a chuckle, a sound of relief mingling with amusement. "For a moment there, I thought... Well, never mind. You had me going." Her laughter, though brief, was a testament to Camilo's convincing performance. But then, with a glance at the sky and a sudden recollection, she exclaimed, "Oh! I'm supposed to help Mamá with the pastries. Can't keep her waiting." With a swift goodbye and a wave, she hurried off, leaving Camilo alone with his triumph and relief.
No sooner had Mirabel disappeared from view did Camilo release a pent-up breath, his hand instinctively finding its way to his chest, as if to steady his racing heart. "That was too close," he muttered to himself, a smirk playing on his lips, proud yet shaken by the narrow escape.
But the silence that followed was abruptly pierced by a familiar, albeit unwelcome, voice in his head. Sidero's spectral tone carried a mix of amusement and intrigue, "You must really like Y/N so much to morph into her as much as you do," the spirit teased, his words weaving through Camilo's thoughts with an ease that was both unnerving and invasive.
Heat crept into Camilo's cheeks, painting them a shade of embarrassment he seldom wore. "I-It's not like that," he stammered, the words tripping over themselves as he scrambled for a defense. "I was just—just trying to trick Mirabel, you know? A simple jest between cousins." His voice, usually so confident and filled with bravado, now faltered under Sidero's scrutinizing presence.
The spirit's laughter, devoid of warmth, echoed in his mind. "Good," Sidero concluded, leaving an ominous weight behind the word. Camilo, flustered and confused, found himself at a loss, his earlier confidence evaporating into the cool evening air as his mind goes blank.
☆
✩
☆
The weight of the day seemed to dissipate as you drew closer to your shop, the sight of Camilo waiting outside igniting a spark of warmth within the fatigue that clung to your bones. "Camilo!" you call out, arms laden with a heavy basket filled with oils and herbs.
The buoyant mood that had carried you back to your shop, quickly dissipated as Camilo's presence, usually a source of playful banter, morphed into something unrecognizable. His stance, stiff and imposing, did nothing to prepare you for the words that followed your lighthearted jest. "What, Toño sicked his animals on you?" you chuckled, attempting to bridge the gap with humor.
But Camilo's response was a far cry from the laughter or playful retort you anticipated. Instead, he offered nothing but a cold, piercing stare that seemed to look right through you. Confusion and a hint of concern began to bubble within you, and just as you were about to voice your worries, Camilo's words cut through the silence like a sharp, unexpected chill. "You know...I thought I'd try to get to know you better. Don't know why I bothered. You're so stuck up, so utterly convinced of your own righteousness. It's like you can't see past your own nose."
Each word was a calculated strike, but it was the depth of his critique that left you reeling. You could only stare as Camilo's expression twisted into one of disdain, his nose turned up, lips curled into a sneer that was so unlike him. The harshness of his tone, the coldness in his eyes—it was as if you were seeing someone entirely different. His words, laced with contempt, seemed to echo around you, each syllable a heavy blow to your spirit.
"It's like, every interaction and every conversation, you're there with your judgments and condescension." The laughter and light-hearted teasing that had peppered your conversations were absent now, replaced by a critique so pointed it felt personal, intimate even.
"I don't like you," he finished before leaving, his words slicing through the last threads of hope you had for what your relationship with Camilo could have become. This wasn't just a dismissal; it was a dismantling of the very foundation you thought you were building together.
The hurt was so profound, so jarring, that it rendered you motionless, your gaze dropping to the ground as a protective measure against the onslaught. It wasn't until a wetness touched the hand not occupied by the weight of the basket that you realized tears had begun to silently trail down your cheeks. Looking up, half-expecting raindrops to blur your vision, the realization that these were your tears—your response to Camilo's cutting words—left you hollow. "Oh..." was all you managed, a whisper lost to the void left by his departure.
━•༓☾ ❝ 𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐀/𝐍 ❞ ☽༓•━
***Uh....forgive me?
👁👄👁
(tactus mortis)
camilo madrigal x fem!medium!reader
@winxanity_ii
(wattpad)
~
ⓇⒺⓂⒺⓂⒷⒺⓇ:
ᴠᴏᴛᴇ 💛 / ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛ💜 / ѕнᴀʀᴇ 💙
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