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Camilo would say he’s had a very straightforward path in life. Even before he got his gift, all he enjoyed doing was putting a smile on someone’s face. There’s a warmth there that doesn’t quite happen with much else, and that’s all he really needs to keep himself going. He wouldn’t exactly say his gift was as good as rerouting rivers, or healing, or controlling the weather, but it’s not like he minded a couple babysitting jobs.
A peek into a person’s life was the greatest gift he could ask for. Not many can say they’ve quite literally lived in someone else’s shoes and experienced the mundanities of their lives. Each person he transformed into felt like he was taking just a tiny piece of them, gathering it all up and placing them together in a little mixed up puzzle that was undeniably him.
Camilo hadn’t really realized how much those pieces really made him…well him. He hadn't realized the light thrum of energy that ran through his veins, settled deep into his bones until he was falling through the air with a sudden void nestled in his chest. The ground was torn out from below him in the most jarring way possible, and in Casita’s rush to get him out of the house he could only be pushed away in a state of disbelief. Watching the casa crumble before him, a wave of dust and debris washing over him, it felt like his own foundations were cracking just the same.
And when silence finally fell, he could barely understand the muffled voices of his own familia around him. Camilo vaguely saw his Mami hovering in front of him, face set in a deep frown as she frantically patted the dust off of his shoulders. Some part of his mind was brought back into reality with a, you need to make her smile, and quick placating ‘i’m okay’s were tumbling out of his mouth. His first instinct was to jump to his feet and transform into some sort of person of comfort, maybe Pá, or even Tía Julieta until reality came crashing back on him.
He remembers sifting through the rubble, void deepening as he realized none of his belongings would even be found, as their rooms were completely created by the miracle and died along with it. And to make matters even worse, Mirabel had apparently disappeared, the blackened and stunted candle left behind. He carefully picked it up, blowing off some of the dirt that had accumulated on top. Camilo held it with shaky hands, eyebrows knit together in a deep set frown. He took a deep breath once he felt his eyes begin to burn, stuffing the broken miracle into his pocket.
It seemed that no one in this family was able to save it, not even his prima. And Camilo knew how desperate she was to fix it, though he didn’t want to admit that he never thought she would’ve been able to anyways. At least, not at the rate she was going with Abuela berating her in front of the entire family, their broken family. He desperately wished he had intervened, any of them had intervened…maybe then the candle would still be burning. He had just stood there with a sickening churning in his gut, the heavy weight of Dolores grasping onto his arm in a, ‘ don’t you dare try to be the hero’ way.
Camilo was jerked out of his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder. He swiveled on his toes to greet the face of said hermana, her everwide eyes filled with such concern he thought he’d drown in it. His face scrunched up uncomfortably, preparing himself for whatever question she was about to throw his way.
“Are you alright, mi hermanito? It doesn’t take super hearing to hear the thoughts rattling around in that head of yours,” Dolores started with a soft smile, in which he offered his own in return. He was forever grateful for his sister, but not very much for her perceptiveness.
“Sí, sí,” he started softly, before perking up. “I bet you were surprised to hear anything at all in here,” he joked, knocking his head lightly with his knuckles.
She giggled softly, and he immediately felt himself relax, eyes closing for a moment as he breathed out a sigh. Yes, keep smiling, he urged almost like a prayer.
“Ay, I had almost forgotten, not a single thought behind those eyes,” Dolores grinned in retort, and Camilo took that short moment of distraction to grab her hand and drag her away from the rubble. He didn’t want to stay there any longer than he had to. After a moment of walking she continued, “It’s quiet. I can’t tell if I’m grateful or not.”
Camilo stayed quiet, sideways glancing at her to encourage her to keep speaking.
“Ay, I mean…I shouldn’t be grateful. Mirabel is missing and my gift would’ve been the only thing that would be able to find her,” Camilo opened his mouth to interrupt, reassure her that it wasn’t her fault but she quickly continued. “I hadn’t realized that despite how loud everything was, it never felt like I was alone. That was some relief…but now, it’s like when you’re dunked in icy water and all your breath leaves you. It’s like that.
“I was a little worried, maybe I still am…that we won’t know what to do now that our gifts are gone.” Her admission felt like a slap in his face all on it’s own. He selfishly kept his mouth shut, wallowing in his own cowardice. “Don’t you feel it? There had always been this pressure to constantly be helping. Now that we lost the very thing that made us the protectors of the Encanto, what will we do with ourselves?”
The pair fell into a contemplative silence, not one Camilo was very willing to break. He eagerly wished that someone would come over and interrupt, spare him from spilling out all of his fears right then and there. But, no help came. Instead, rather mercifully, he was somehow able to avoid breaching the hurricane that was his emotions.
“Oye, you worry too much hermana,” he started with a shake of his head and a light grin gracing his features. “All I know is that this means no more chores and everyone gets to be graced with this divine presence for the rest of their live long days.” Yeah, maybe not so much of a mercy.
Camilo let go of her hand, skipping over the last of the rubble until he landed on flat ground. He whirled around to face her with a smirk, stopping short when noticing the frown stuck on her face. His mind scrambled to find some humorous addition.
“What? Not excited?” He wiggled his brows, flashing his teeth. She finally returned a pained smile, but eh, he counted it as a win.
“I’m going to go help look for Mirabel,” Dolores whisked past him, seeming in a hurry to escape the conversation–which he couldn’t really blame her for. He watched her form disappear down the hill, immediately sagging in his stature.
Yep, definitely gonna be a long day.
And oh joy, just his luck that it was going to plummet even further down.
The sun was just beginning to set over the cracked hills of the Encanto when he heard a vague shout of relief that sounded like Tía Julieta. Camilo barely managed to hold back from sprinting over there, but the sight of Mirabel standing there had him abandoning all thought of acting collected. The relief was immediate, slamming into him and knocking his breath away. Seeing his practical melliza had brought him more ease than he had felt all day. He hadn’t realized how heavy his eyelids had felt until they had sprung open at the sight of her. And it suddenly felt like everything would be okay.
The alleviated stress made it easy for a few sarcastic cracks to slip out of him, which no one seemed to find the slightest bit amusing. He grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck before joining the rest of the group in front of Mirabel. It was good , and she was helping them fix it. All of it, not just Casita. And Abuela returned with such a deepset sorrow in her eyes, filled with regret and love and he adamantly ignored the way he had been waiting so long for a look like that. It finally felt like things were going to resolve, and fix itself but then–
Camilo felt himself nearly jump out of his own skin, and he was tempted to ask Mirabel for her glasses to double check if he was seeing correctly because he knew that green ruana. His instinctual reaction was to reach for his Mamá, take her carefully by the arm to drag her away and lead her through her breathing exercises. But as he went to reach for her he quickly recoiled when he was greeted instead with eyes flooding with relief and joy and…and–that wasn’t right. No, no that couldn’t be right.
Camilo didn’t understand, because that couldn’t be right. It was a mantra in his head on repeat like a broken record. He had been trying for ten sluggishly long years to get his Mamá to look like that. Completely free from all worry, and a smile on her face that pushed away any doubt that anything was ever wrong in the first place. He had been there for her in each breakdown, each thundercloud, each hailstorm. It was him that calmed her down, but she had never once looked as she does now.
He could only stare in stunned disbelief as his Mamá–the one that forbade anyone from talking about Bruno had rushed forward and swept that very man up into the tightest hug he had ever seen her give. A piercing pang throbbed in his heart, brows so closely pushed together that Camilo’s head started to ache. He was hit with the realization that his distaste was slapped directly across his face, and then an even sharper–more like relieving–understanding that no one was even focused enough on him to notice. And it was like he was thrown all the way back to the night when it all happened.
The house had been unbearably still the moment Mirabel’s door had slowly faded away in a sheen of silky light. Camilo remembered the whirlwind of confusion he had felt, the hurt. He had been waiting months, ever since he had gotten his gift for Mira to get hers and it just hadn’t worked? Abuela had quickly rushed the people out of Casita, and the rest of the night he heard hushed whispers of the adults around the house. When he had heard Abuela’s and Tío Bruno’s voices get extra loud he had hustled to lock himself in his room.
That morning held the same tension, thick over the breakfast table. He distinctly remembered the early morning sunlight filtering through the mariposa shaped bricks of the kitchen, casting an otherwise beautiful shadow across the family minus one. Camilo remembered staring at the empty seat that had belonged to Tío Bruno, a golden butterfly made of sunlight sitting just at the head of his chair. With a deep swell of worry rising in his chest, he had turned to his Mami, whispering the words:
“Where is Tío Bruno?”
And he ignored the growing cloud above his Mami’s head, rolling and darkening, rumbling and flashing, and he continued to push and pester. Where is he, Mami? Where is Tío? Why hasn’t anyone woken him up yet? Why are we starting desayuno without him? What happened to Tío Bruno?
Camilo really should’ve seen the bolt coming. It wasn’t purposeful of course, none of them were from then on either. He quickly found out how difficult it was for his Mami to control her emotions and that taught him better to stop pushing and rather make some tea, lead her to her favorite chair, and speak in a soft voice. And it suddenly became clear to him that caring for his Mami was his number one priority. His second; never talk about Bruno.
So one could probably understand his disbelief at the sight of that man rushing out apologies to his Mamá and Tía. And the closer he looked, the more unnerved he got. That couldn’t possibly be the infamous Bruno, he wasn’t seven feet tall, his face didn’t hold a mischievous grin, rather heavy eye bags and nervous twitches. Camilo felt like he was staring at a complete stranger, maybe he had hit his head too hard and was just hallucinating this entire situation.
But then Dolores just leaned in close and confessed that she had heard Bruno, every day. He couldn’t help but flinch away from that, face curling up in more confusion, not that she had noticed. It seemed that everyone was too shocked at seeing Bruno as well, but not with the same disdain he was holding. He looked around and noticed that his entire familia was relieved for him to just be back, even Tonito had known of Bruno’s existence with a smug smile. And he suddenly felt like a barrier had been placed between them all. Was he the only one feeling this way?
Camilo felt like an outsider in his own emotions, and that wasn’t fair, was it? Why was Bruno just allowed to show up again after ten years? He felt his frown grow into a sneer the more he stood there as everyone around him just moved on. It wasn’t fair to him, and looking into Bruno’s eyes, he realized the man felt the same way.
Stuttering out apologies that were immediately silenced with a hug, eyes wide with the same sort of disbelief–like even he couldn’t believe he was here again. They had spent a decade pretending he never existed and just pretended like everything was fine the moment he came back? And suddenly that rising frustration wasn’t exactly directed at Bruno anymore.
No, it wasn’t Bruno, it was his familia.
Why did they feel the need to lie to him this entire time? They had ten fucking years to just tell him what happened. He had grown up learning to avoid the topic, yearning for some answer as to why his Tío had disappeared. The idea of Bad Luck Bruno being shoved into his face by all the townspeople. This vile, evil man that never cared about his family in the first place, left selfishly, and practically haunted the Encanto with his presence. He couldn’t help the stinging betrayal that settled deep in his heart, and he hated it. Why? Why had they been feeding him lies his whole life?
Camilo hugged himself tightly, wanting to shrink away into his poncho–no—wanted to just change into some stranger and forget all of this even happened. His skin felt stretched thinly over his muscles and ligaments, his bones weren’t the right size, his teeth were too big in his mouth, being in his own body just began to feel wrong.
But he just had to steel himself, because the entire town was congregating at the top of the hill, a commotion of confusion and wanting to help. Camilo situated himself behind his familia, suddenly feeling all too vulnerable as his nails digged into his arms. Looking at each of the villagers' faces, people he had personally spent time with and living their lives, his mouth tasted like acid.
His eyes returned to Bruno, his green ruana flashing like ugly stain on a white tablecloth. He found himself itching to run at the man, grab him by the shoulders and ask him all the questions that had been grappling at Camilo for the past decade, and another part wanted to run away just as Mirabel had. He had to hold back a shudder as he forced his eyes away. He didn’t want to even look at the man anymore.
<<<>>>
Newsflash, it’s nearly impossible not to look at the man when he is near him every moment of the day. The Guzmán’s had graciously offered their home to the Madrigals, and while the family did have one of the largest houses in the Encanto, it wasn’t much. Two extra bedrooms, with the family split. Camilo had somehow managed to be spared from sharing a room with the man, however, they were hardly ever in the house anyways.
It was working on fixing up Casita that was the problem. The entire village, including the Madrigals, would wake up bright and early, trudge up the stone path, and set to work till sunset. This wasn’t much of a problem, as he had been used to interacting with people for extended periods of time. No, it was the fact that he was constantly looking over his shoulders for that flash of green–and, maybe he also kinda sucked at doing actual work.
He would admit, his body was all skin and bones. He never had to worry about actually working out when he was able to transform into a stocky, muscly Luisa, or a tall José. So, the amount of breaks he was taking didn’t exactly help with his high strung emotions either.
Camilo was just tired of the constant frustration building up inside of him, meshing together with sparks of anger into an ugly ball of irritation. One moment he would be perfectly fine, cracking jokes, only to turn the corner and see Isabela putting flowers in Bruno’s hair, or Luisa lifting the man over her shoulders to spackle some bricks. Everywhere he turned was just Bruno, Bruno, Bruno, and always interacting with some member of the family. Helping Julieta make snacks for the village, showing off his rats to Antonio, and for some reason trailing after Maribel constantly.
The man himself had tried to step up to Camilo a few times, but he had always found an excuse to get away from him. ‘Yeah, I’m busy’ was blunt, and only when he was having a bad day, while ‘Agustín needs help in the kitchen’ and ‘I have to go make a quick run to the town’ were a little more believable but still painfully obvious avoidances. And of course he felt a little guilty because Bruno always looked back at his retreating form like a kicked puppy, and it’s not like he had asked for any of this. But Camilo was just so…spiteful? Angry? He just felt like he had been wronged , and not being able to help as much as he used to didn’t make it any better.
He couldn’t help but feel useless , and like everyone was moving on with so much more ease than him. Why was he holding on so much to this? Was he just being dramatic? It seemed simple for the others to just reassemble around Bruno, refit him perfectly back into the family mold. An extra seat at the dinner table, another toothbrush in the bathroom, another dish in the sink. Despite the constant changing Camilo went through everyday, there had always been the one constant of his family. Everything felt like it had been thrown off kilter, and he was tipping over the edge.
He managed to get through a couple months into building Casita without breaking when the ledge finally crumbled beneath his feet.
Camilo was just trying to make a quick trip from the kitchen to the back of the house, a spot no one usually went to during their lunch break. He had made it under the archway when he heard the shuffled footsteps following after him. He stopped abruptly, ignoring the way the sound of Bruno’s sandals skidded across the cement as the man hastened to stop as well.
“What do you want?” Camilo asked bluntly, annoyance creeping up on him like a fly that wouldn’t stop buzzing. He swiveled on his feet to face the man, only growing more frustrated at his apprehensive stature. Bruno stood with his shoulders curved inwards pathetically, fingers running over the frayed ends of his ruana.
“O-oh, lo siento, I don’t mean to intrude,” Bruno started, then quickly backtracked–always so unsure, Camilo noticed. “Well, I can’t exactly say ‘didn’t mean to,’ because I meant to. Sorry, getting off topic here–um.” He chuckled anxiously, hastily throwing a pinch of salt over his shoulder, and Camilo felt his lips tug down more. “Ah, what I meant to say was that I wanted to talk with you. I-I know you probably don’t want to, because of how much you’ve been avoiding me, but um…I just wanted to know if there was anything I could do?”
A pause.
“Ay, lo siento, if I ever did anything to you, I would hope you would tell me. I feel like no one has really been even listening to my apologies lately, and–and well, not that I’m trying to say I’m only apologizing because I want you to forgive me. That, that would be the complete opposite of what I want and…I’m getting off topic again aren’t I? Sorry, I’m just not very good at this kind of…thing. If I’m being honest it was actually Mirabel that managed to convince me to do this–”
Camilo let his ramblings merge together and fade into the back of his mind as he watched the man continue to flounder for the right words. He suddenly became struck with how unnerving this all was, to have Bruno standing here in front of him, alone for the first time in ten years. Avoiding him like the plague for months had felt much easier to do than actually facing him head on.
“You know what, maybe I should just go because you clearly don’t want me here and I think I'm just making things worse–”
“Why did you come back?” Camilo finally interrupted, immediately silencing Bruno’s ramblings. He huffed, glaring deeply at the other, “Why are you even here? You’ve been gone for a decade, we’ve been fine without you for a decade. Why did you suddenly decide to come back!?” His voice rose in volume, and despite his desperate attempt to sound mad, it pitifully wavered by the end.
And of course Bruno was staring at him with those wide, inexplicably sorrowful eyes, looking even more fed up and tired than Camilo felt. It made his heart beat faster, like his brain was running a mile a second and being stuffed with cotton all at once. His fingers twitched at the urge to do something with the amount of pure resent flowing through his veins.
“I don’t get it! Why is everyone acting like this? Like–like you didn’t leave? Like they didn’t even bother to talk about you unless it was something bad?” Camilo snapped so bitterly he saw Bruno flinch. “I’ve been told all these horrible things, built up this…this monster in my head, and then you just show up! Why is no one else confused?!”
He felt the painful sting of tears in his eyes and the longer the silence pursued the more pathetic he felt. Because he knew he looked just as miserable as he felt, visibly trembling under his poncho, fists curling and uncurling, face twisted up in an attempt to not cry. Camilo stood there, chest slowly constricting and throat swelling, and he was trying so desperately to keep it together but his composure was probably lost long ago.
He finally began to feel panic spread at the realization that it was getting much harder to breathe, and he couldn’t find it in him to focus his eyes on anything. It was like Casita was crumbling all over again, and he couldn’t do anything. It was all falling apart and all he could do was stand there feeling useless and confused…and like an idiot-
A heavy hand landed on his shoulder and mercifully dragged Camilo out of his spiral as he took a large gasp of air. His eyes managed to focus on Bruno, who was now standing much closer than before. His mouth was moving but he wasn’t quite yet registering the words, still reeling from his short burst of panic.
“--eathe, yeah just like that,” the words finally hit his ears with striking clarity, which caused dismay to immediately replace his anxiety.
“Don’t,” Camilo snapped, stumbling away from the hand as the world finally started to resettle around him. Bruno immediately took a step back because that’s apparently who he is, muttering something about knocks under his breath. Why did he have to be so different? So nice? “This isn’t fair,” great, now he was whining like a petulant kid throwing a tantrum. And he suddenly felt shame roll over him in waves, heat rising in his cheeks as he sniffled, breaths still coming out raggedy.
“I..I know it’s not, sobrinito-”
“Don’t call me that,” Camilo was shocked himself as the words spilled out, because wow he was not this disrespectful ever. But, it was justified wasn’t it? “I don’t even know you,” he muttered out bitterly instead, but continued to feel the dread of the thought of Abuela finding out.
But, somehow Bruno seemed to understand, a softer look in his eyes. “Camilo,” he restarted placatingly. “I know it’s not fair. And I’m sorry that I do not have a straight answer for you. I honestly don’t really get it either,” he chuckled lightly, nervously. Oh, and there goes another pinch of salt. “I thought they would’ve hated me, I never even meant to come back. Look–kid, the answers to all of your questions just aren’t nice,” Bruno continued on meekly.
“All that time I was gone, I still could see. I saw how they all pretended to forget that I ever even existed in the first place. I can see how unfair it is that someone you knew disappeared and no one had the heart to even tell you why. I was the coward, Camilo,” Bruno admitted with a frown, and Camilo felt something in him shift. “I left without thinking how it would’ve affected you. Not that I could’ve predicted that they’d completely erase me, or rather feed you lies about how horrible I was just to try and justify pushing me away.
“I’m sorry, Camilo, I am not doing this to gain sympathy from you. You never should have had to deal with anyone else’s problems, with the ones I caused, and I’m sorry that I can’t fix it either.” Bruno sounded so genuine and sure in his words, Camilo could hardly believe it.
He suddenly felt like he was five years old again–he was sure that if he still had his powers he would end up looking like it too–and all he wanted to do was reach on with his shaky hands and grab onto Bruno’s ruana and just be held. Camilo had spent so long helping his Mami through her problems he hadn’t even realized how exhausted he became. Where was his own comfort those ten odd years ago? To think all of these problems could’ve been avoided with just a little more understanding and sympathy.
“Well,” he was shaken out of his thoughts when Bruno continued with a heavy sigh. “I should probably head back now. I’m sorry for bothering you, Camilo, but then again, you really deserved an apology.” With that the man began to turn away, but even before he could take a step Camilo shot a hand out, grabbing his wrist to stop him.
The two stood there for a moment–a little bit too awkward for his liking after that embarrassing breakdown–before Camilo hesitantly let go, taking a deep breath before saying, “Gracias, Tío Bruno,” because that stranger, that monster , was finally becoming recognizable again. And Camilo had really missed his tío.