Chapter Text
Only he would manage to do this.
A stinging twinge in Camilo’s chest blossomed quickly, erupting into a burning sensation from the exertion. The cool breeze of air against his sides was his only saving grace as he ran forward, face flushed. His legs were aching in pain, a tell-tale sign he should slow down, but from the slapping-footsteps behind him, he still had company hot on his heels.
He still couldn’t understand how he’d managed to turn a simple trip to the market into something like this.
Camilo had been weaving through the crowds to make it to the bakers stall and collect the last few items he and his mother would need for the week.
Admittedly, he wasn’t treating the task with much haste. His Mama didn’t expect him home until much later, and he really wasn’t in a rush to get back to the house. It was always so quiet at home, and he hated silence.
The market, with its roaring crowd, (or, as close to roaring a town of less than a hundred villagers could be) created the perfect opportunity to observe. The times he was sent out to collect groceries, the teen would always take just a bit longer to see what new gossip had arrived. He liked seeing how each of the merchants interacted with customers before he approached, so he could copy whatever attitude would help him haggle a better price.
He had slowed to do just that when it happened.
Senor Sanchez gripped onto his wrist tightly, yanking the teen back with a surprised yelp.
Camilo was barely given any chance to question it, though, as he quickly had the man shouting at him.
“What did you take, Moscoso?” He spat angrily, the teens face contracting in confusion. “C’mon,
I know you must have done something! confiesa ahora, antes de que lo encuentre!” The man never seemed to let up, not even for a single breath, evident as his face began turning red.
Camilo had done his best not to cower. His mother didn’t raise him to be weak. He instead drew in a shaky breath, attempting to pull the right words together to assure the man, no, he hadn’t taken anything. Not today, at least.
(Now, sure, maybe he’d swiped something or another in the past.Some days, his mama just didn’t give him enough for everything on the list and he knew she’d be angry if he came home empty-handed. But really, he didn’t think anyone would notice. He never took more than he thought was unnoticeable, and only when the suppliers had tons left.)
“Now, Now, Señor! Who do you take me for? Surely I’d never do such a thing to a hard working man like yourself.” He assured. It was always a fifty/fifty shot, but flattery usually seemed to lessen the trouble.
The odds clearly weren’t on his side today.
Senor Sanchez was still so angry, Camilo’s smooth words having clearly no effect. He eventually mumbled a string of curse words, attempting to yank the teen closer. He muttered something about “teaching this brat a lesson,” as he did so.
As words had failed him, a wave of adrenaline took him to the next best option.
The man’s sweaty hands made Camilo wince as he pulled on his arm, but he stayed still. When Señor Sanchez stopped to urge Camilo to stop resisting, he was given just enough slack to ease out his hand. With barely any time to think, he reverted to the next best thing he could think of.
He ran.
The teen continued to run, with Señor Sanchez hot on his trail for some time, and even after he wasn’t sure how much distance he’d gained.
He continued to run until his front smacked into something solid, the momentum throwing him back.
Camilo’s back scraped against the dirt ground through his shirt, and in the back of his mind he cursed. The back of his head was throbbing with a sharp pain - he’d definitely hit it on something.
A small groan escaped him as the air was knocked out of his lungs for a moment, quickly attempting to try to pull himself up.
“Ay, desacelerar, don’t hurt yourself!” Are worried, deeper voices coaxed.
Camilo glanced up, his vision blurred beyond recognizing either person. After a moment of heaving, he was able to pull himself up onto his feet.
His stance was rather off-balance, causing the teen to take a few staggering steps forward. A small slip in footing pushed Camilo off balance, as arms swung out and ended up bracing himself from another fall by gripping onto the stranger before him. A warm hand gripped both of his elbows, offering support as the teen used this stranger as a crutch.
“Are you alright?” Another voice joined the first, this one with a more feminine touch.
“You did seem to take a pretty harsh spill there, hombre. Slow down a second.” The man agreed.
Really, Camilo wasn’t too focused, electing to steady his breathing and balance first. He blinked in an attempt to clear the fog in his vision, but his curly hair still managed to flop in front of his eyes to obscure the view.
“Ah, si. I’m okay.” He managed after a moment. He looked up, taking in the (now only slightly obscured) appearance of who he’d managed to run into.
“Lo siento, Señor. Senorita.” He apologized, doing his best to sound polite and sincere. He certainly didn’t need any more problems today, not that these two looked like they’d give him much trouble. The man was dressed in nice clothes, dress pants and a vest, so it clearly wasn’t a farmer.
The girl beside him appeared a bit more casually dressed, with a dress that faded from white to blue and covered in all sorts of intricate designs. Between the glasses, their dress, and the awkward (yet somehow comforting) smile the girl was giving him, he didn’t think either of this pair would be bursting out in anger.
“I’ll get out of your way now, I don’t mean to stall your plans” Camilo started after a moment, realizing he’d ended up just awkwardly staring at them for several seconds too long. While still a bit thrown off, and a pounding headache, he felt confident he could pull himself through the hidden back-alleys home.
“Hold on there, kid.” The man spoke up suddenly, a gentle hand falling on his right shoulder. Camilo winced slightly, having had an ache in that shoulder for several days now. “You took quite a spill, worse than I usually do, and you still seem a bit out of it. We might need to take you to Julieta.”
“Julieta?” Camilo prompted, unsure of the name. Did they mean the town doctor, Senora Hernandez? Camilo didn’t know her first name, but he knew he certainly didn’t need to go to a doctor. That would take far too long and he needed to be home on time.
Something of that comment made the two swap glances, both with concern written all over their faces (especially the girl, her face read like an open book.) Afterall, who in the encanto didn’t know of the great healer Julieta Madrigal?
“Julieta.” The girl repeated, taking a step forward to observe him more clearly. “Julieta Madrigal, the town healer. I’m sure you’ve met her, Mami has healed everyone at least once.” The girl explained, rambling on in an odd mix of nerves and excitement.
Madrigal?
A few rapid blinks seemed to clear his mind, as Camilo looked up, taking in the facial features of the two. Once more, he seemed to recognize a very clear color scheme.
Oh.
These were some of the Madrigal family, weren’t they? Camilo felt his chest tighten, straightening up.
Camilo, of course, had heard of the Madrigal family constantly since he and his mother came to the village. He had been told the story of the miracle by one of the more enthusiastic townsfolk, Osvaldo, as well as the sudden “second-coming” that had apparently happened just a month or so before their arrival.
There was a lot in that conversation, where Osvaldo had even covered all the different people in the family, but it had need a long day and Camilo was too caught up on the fallen magic house to really listen.
He was regretting that choice.
No, this was the last thing he needed. He certainly did not need to be on the radar of the Madrigal family. This was a family full of theatrics, of attention. Really, they had the entire town singing their praises! Even just being seen with them was bound to bring about some sort of gossip.
Attention was the last thing his mama would want, so if it was to get back to her he took up the time of the town's celebrated healer? There was no way his mother would allow that.
He coughed suddenly, shaking his head as he stumbled to think of a better excuse. “Ah, no, Gracias Señor. I’ll be just fine, but I really need to get going.” He quickly assured, averting his eyes when the girl's face fell.
“Are you sure you don’t want to at least check? To be sure?” She tried one last time, but the boy didn’t budge. He mumbled another excuse of his mother needing to see him at home.
Like a saving grace, it was at that time another townsfolk noticed the two, calling out from the top of the hill.
“Mirabel! We need your opinion on some new fabric!” The town seamstress, Señora Vega called down. It caught the Madrigals attention long enough for the teen to make his escape.
By the time Camilo had managed to find his way home, his legs had stopped shaking, but the headache only pounded worse.
He was late, he knew it, and Mama certainly wouldn’t like that. His only saving grace would be that he got everything on their list, but he doubted that would be enough seeing as he couldn’t really explain what took so long.
The door creaked, as it always does, drawing attention to his door. A pair of eyes found him, with pursed lips as the bags were set on the counter.
“You’re late.” A feminine voice spoke, even and cool.
“Lo siento, Mama.” The boy apologized quickly, swallowing. “I got, Um, caught up. It won’t happen again.” He stumbled quickly.
He knew his explanation wouldn’t be enough, and it wasn’t.
Camilo went to bed with a headache far worse than he came home with and a familiar ache.