Chapter Text
With the fall and rebirth of the miracle came the promise of a brighter future for the Encanto and all within it.
In the months during Casita’s renovation, the Madrigal family was able to connect and bond with their community members in ways they hadn’t in a long time, if ever before. Of course everyone knew each other, as is natural for a small, tight-knit community, and the Madrigals had their glowing reputation of using their gifts in selfless ways, but the period of time where they were more or less ordinary people allowed the family’s relationship with the town to evolve beyond their community service. Just about everyone who lived there helped with construction in some way or another, and from the wreckage of the home blossomed a garden of new friendships and camaraderie between the magical family and their fellow townspeople.
Inside Casita’s walls (once it had been restored to its enchanted glory), the family itself was stronger than ever before. Each member was encouraged to embrace themselves, their own interests and emotions, without fear of disapproval or rejection. Bruno had been slowly reintegrating himself into his family who awaited him with open arms, and Alma herself, though still tight-laced as she was, had adopted a less perfection-oriented style of running the family.
Life had seemingly never been better for the members of La Familia Madrigal .
Yet Camilo, for as much as he loved his family, still felt a little outnumbered. He loved his papá and tíos, and he prided himself on being a good older brother to Antonio, but at the end of the day he didn’t have any other boys his age in the house to hang out with. It had been that way for years, and while he enjoyed spending time with his cousins and sister plenty, there were often times he felt very much like a black sheep as a teenage boy among a group of young ladies. Some areas of discussion he just couldn’t relate to, nor they to him. As was typical for him, he felt… out of place.
That was until he began clicking with a group of young men during Casita’s rebuilding, a handful of strapping and popular fellows who had done a lot of work on piecing together the new home’s wooden foundation beams. Camilo found himself gravitating to them, enjoying the refreshing new dynamics of the group, and eventually he was welcomed into their circle as a friend without any strings attached. Even after he and his family had been regifted, he still found his group to be a place where he could just be himself for a while, and everyone thought that was okay. If things were looking up before, Camilo was sure he’d reached cloud nine. He was easily the youngest among them; most of the others were in their late teens or early twenties, but Camilo considered it a source of pride to be regarded as an equal by the older, “cooler” guys of the Encanto.
It made him feel cool, too. He already knew he was amazing, and that many others thought so as well, but having a new friend group who regularly called on him to hang out with them was icing on the cake.
Camilo left the house on a warm Tuesday afternoon for one such get-together, a birthday party for one of his mutual friends. Tomás Herrera was around Luisa’s age and wasn’t much of a conversationalist, but he was well-liked nonetheless and Camilo almost couldn’t believe he’d been invited. It wasn’t his first birthday party, of course, but it was the first to be spent with his new group of friends and he was stoked. His mother had sent him off with regards from the family for Tomás, and the promise that Camilo would try to make it home in time to have dinner with his family.
Can’t promise anything, mami, he’d thought to himself with a cheeky grin, brimming with excitement for what the night was going to hold for him.
It was fun, for the first couple of hours. Then as the sky began to darken, they brought out the bottles. Now, Camilo sat somewhat awkwardly in the middle of a room of very loud, very drunk people, bantering without filter and stumbling each time they took a step. He knew the birthday guy was pretty popular, but in addition to the usual faces, at least a dozen other people had stopped by the house to partake in the festivities. Tomás himself was about three bottles in, allowing two of his friends to drape themselves around his shoulders and sway all three of them in time to the high-energy music blaring on the phonograph. Camilo wondered if this chaos was what his sister felt on a daily basis, endless overstimulation from all sides and feeling like a sitting duck.
He was offered a shot for the dozenth time that night, which he again politely declined. He’d ventured to try the first one when it was offered, immediately choking on the fire that slid down his throat and involuntarily shifting into almost every member of the church choir. It earned some raucous laughter, but Camilo himself deemed the sting still clinging to his chest a punchline not worth revisiting.
It was about the time that a few of the men began openly boasting about their sex lives that Camilo remembered he had an out. He slid out of the chair he’d been perched on and waded through dancing partygoers, the smell of booze clouding the air to a suffocating degree, until he managed to find Tomás being poured another glass.
“Hey, Tomás, I think I oughta get going. Mamá’s going to want me home before dark, before dinner and all. Lame, I know.” He threw in a shrug to heighten his façade of nonchalance. Tomás blinked, a little hazy from the warmth in his veins, and Camilo almost wondered if he was still all there enough to understand him. But Tomás eventually nodded, setting down his cup mid-fill and stood to brush his hands off on his trousers.
“Okay. Let me walk you home.”
Now it was Camilo’s turn to blink, taken aback by the gesture. It was appreciated, but he would have felt too guilty accepting Tomás’s escort out and away from his own birthday party. He scoffed lightheartedly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Pshh, what? You don’t have to, my house isn’t exactly hard to find. I’ll be--”
“I’ll take him.”
Attention was drawn behind Camilo to the source of the voice. There stood Tomás’s brother Mateo, a handsome man a few years older than Isabela and Dolores, seeming remarkably lucid compared to the other guests. If Mariano was the Encanto's number-one heartthrob, then Mateo easily made the top five. Dark hair in loose waves, broad shoulders, defined muscles and facial features… Camilo was honestly kind of intimidated by him. Mariano he already knew was a dork and non-threatening, but Mateo was on another level he wasn’t sure he could compete with beyond shifting into him. As such, Camilo couldn’t help but want to impress him on the occasions that Mateo accompanied the group on their outings. He wasn’t sure if Mateo actually noticed his efforts, but having him step up and offer to escort him home was a pleasant, if not unexpected, surprise.
“Huh? Really?”
“I’ll even pick up some more aguardiente from the brewer on the way back, ‘cause we’re running low.” Mateo patted his brother on the shoulder, offering a cool smile while Tomás' eyes flit to his hand. “Besides, you oughta be living it up right now manito. Don’t ditch your guests.”
“Yeah, let’s have another round!” The friend who had poured Tomás’s drink handed the full glass back to him, and with a little additional coaxing, Tomás reclaimed his spot on the couch with a huff of agreement. His friends cheered, and as Mateo led a somewhat perplexed Camilo towards the front door, Tomás offered him a wave of farewell.
“Get home safe.”
“You really don’t have to escort me, Señor.”
Mateo laughed richly at the remark, causing Camilo to sheepishly sink into the collar of his shirt. The trip from the Herrera residence to Casita usually didn’t take longer than 15 minutes, but it felt to Camilo like the path home was somehow twice as long. He rarely spent time with his individual friends one-on-one, preferring a group setting, and to say being alone with Mateo Herrera was giving him a slight case of stage fright was an understatement. But he was getting Mateo to laugh, and if there was anything Camilo could reliably count on being able to do, it was making people smile.
“Señor? Way to make me feel old, chiquito.” Mateo nudged him with his elbow, and Camilo smirked back.
“I’m just trying to be polite! Here, I’ll make it up to you.” With a characteristically dramatic spin, in the blink of an eye he’d shrunk down into the form of Señor Giraldo, who had to be at least 102 years old. He took deliberate, rickety steps, grinning up at Mateo with a perfect imitation of the old man’s wooden dentures. “See? Now I’m about as old as the trees.” He was rewarded with another bark of laughter that he couldn’t help but mirror, letting go of that form and easily bouncing back into his own.
“You’re a riot, Camilo.” Mateo chuckled as Camilo came back to himself, laying a hand on the boy’s back between his shoulder blades. Before Camilo had the chance to brush off the compliment with humor, Mateo’s hand relocated to his furthest shoulder and pulled him in until their sides were flush against each other. Camilo’s hands instinctively balled and rose to his chest as though he’d dropped something, his surprise evident in the way his brows shot up and his lips thinned. Woah, maybe Mateo wasn’t quite as sober as he’d thought. He chuckled nervously, but again he was unable to get a word in edgewise as Mateo leaned in and uttered in his ear.
“Hey. Before I take you home, I wanna make a detour. There’s something I’ve been meaning to show you.”
“Show me? ” Camilo had given up trying to act casual. Usually Camilo was the one showing off and showing people tricks, and it wasn’t often the tables were turned on him. Not to mention, it was Mateo of all people who apparently not only had something he wanted to share with him, but he’d also been sitting on it for a while. Perhaps Camilo’s efforts to impress him had paid off! He gave a crooked smile, excitement rising within him again. “Wow, uh, sure! I’m down.”
Mateo smiled, his eyelids lowering.
“Cool. Follow me.”
He led Camilo towards the nearest way off the main path, diverting their route to the backroads and further out towards the edges of town.
“Woah.”
The walk to their new destination was much longer, the terrain less even and the pathway lacking the illumination of street lamps as the main road had, but a trek through patches of trees and along a portion of the river finally led them to an abandoned water mill a far ways out from the rest of the town. The whole building was in sorry shape, and the two young men had to navigate through a series of busted hallways to find themselves in some sort of office room. Camilo was busy exploring the ramshackle space, fascinated by the disrepair, while Mateo leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed.
“You ever been here before?”
“Nope. Abuela never wanted us around here, she said it was dangerous. I always wondered what it was like, though.”
“Oh, it’s not so bad. Just a little spooky, right?”
“I guess so. Why’d they stop using it?”
“Your cousin redirected the river to be a little closer to everything else, so they built the new one there.”
Camilo hummed. That made a lot of sense… it must have happened before he was old enough to actually go out and play on his own, as this mill had always been run down as long as he could remember. Mateo continued, knocking against a rotten section of wall.
“This one just kinda fell by the wayside, but the wheel’s still been going this whole time. Hear it?” He pointed up and they both tuned in to the ambience, the sound of rushing water easily filling the silence.
“Yeah… it’s kind of noisy, actually.” Camilo noted. He turned around to further observe the scenery, not noticing the small grin inching across Mateo’s features as he hummed in agreement. Camilo furrowed his brows, taking in the splintered debris and broken glass littered throughout the room. Windows were shattered, any furniture left behind overturned and in pieces strewn over the concrete floor. The walls were overtaken by graffiti, painted and carved by young daredevils in years gone by, the blank spaces between claimed by mildew and dirt. The last time he was in the middle of a building this wrecked, it had been in his own home. The memory wasn’t a fond one. The place was utterly dilapidated, forsaken and left to rot, the wheel outside continuing to turn with the earth until it too would eventually dissolve and fade away.
It was unsettling.
The longer they spent in that room, the more a creeping sense of dread began to coil itself inside him and settle in the pit of his stomach. Maybe it was just the eeriness of the building itself, or the uncomfortable reminder of what it was like to be standing among wreckage, but a nagging at the back of Camilo’s mind told him he shouldn’t be here. Like something bad was going to happen if he stayed there too long.
Well, his curiosity had been satiated. It was time to leave.
“Anyway, is this what you wanted to show me? It’s pretty neat.” Camilo kicked a loose chunk of rock across the floor, holding his hands behind his back. It wasn’t wrong, for as weirded out by the place as he was. And he appreciated Mateo giving him the chance to check it out, whereas his older family would have scolded him for even suggesting giving it a look.
“Actually, this is only part of it.” Mateo shifted from where he leaned against the wall, and Camilo pursed his lips and bit back the urge to complain. It looked like he wasn’t going to be getting out of there just yet. His attention was drawn to Mateo taking another step closer to where he stood, his thumbs hooking into his pockets and his stance lax. But when he spoke again, Camilo’s piqued interest was stunned in a way not even his uncle could have predicted.
“You oughta take off your ruana first, though.”
Huh?
“My…?” Camilo frowned, gripping the yellow patterned fabric draped over his torso. Take it off? Here? In this dingy, dirty old shack? That seemed like a bad idea. Camilo didn’t distrust Mateo, but that inkling of dread inside his core seemed to inch a little higher at the idea of parting with his beloved poncho.
Mateo could sense his reluctance and shrugged his shoulders, offering up his hands as a show of deference. “Just a suggestion. It’s not necessary.”
At first Camilo was relieved, until he was gripped by the thought that maybe his hesitation came off as a sign of disrespect. What was he implying, that he didn’t care about what Mateo wanted to show him? That he didn’t trust him? What if he just blew his chance to prove he could roll with the older crowd? And things had been going so well… He wasn’t sure what to expect or why it would require him to take the ruana off, but he wouldn’t know until he let things take their course, right?
It’s not that hard of a request, Camilo, he mentally berated himself. Just take it off.
“No, it’s, uh… sure. Okay.” His desire for acceptance won out over his intuition, and he slipped the article over his head and off entirely. The chill of the evening soaked quickly into his body without the protective woven layer, but he tried to shake off the shiver that ran down his spine. Laying the ruana carefully on a nearby slab of cement he asked aloud, “What for?”
The shadow on the wall shaped like Camilo doubled in size. As Camilo straightened once more, he became very aware of Mateo standing directly behind him, firm hands planting themselves on his shoulders and hot, liquor-laced breath against his neck.
“It’ll just get in the way.”