Worth The Shot

The Pressure of Earth

You and Camilo exchanged a terrified glance.

We're trapped.

"Mirabel!" You screamed. The tight space was barely big enough to hold four people packed together and you could only stand with your head ducked. Panicked, your hands scrabbled on the loose stones, sending another shower of dirt from the ceiling.

I don't wanna die like this.

"(Y/n), (y/n)," Breathing heavily, Camilo grabbed your wrists to keep them still, his wide hazel eyes holding yours. His grip was strong enough that you couldn't break free, but gentle. "You gotta stop moving. You'll bury us alive."

You tried to catch your breath, fighting tears and shaking your head. "We're gonna suffocate in here, Camilo."

"No, no. We're gonna be okay," He promised. He's lying. "I'm gonna let go. Don't dig. Okay?"

"Okay," You exhaled. Your back against the dirt wall, you slowly slid down until you were sitting with your legs crossed. You closed your eyes shut and leaned your head against the packed earth. Deep breaths. How many breaths do I even have left down here? You suppressed a sob.

You heard a coughing gasp next to you.

"Camilo?"

He was shaking uncontrollably, rapidly shifting between himself, you, and people you didn't recognize. "Sorr- sorry," He choked out, pressing his fingers to his temple.

"Are you okay?" You pulled yourself closer, alarmed.

"Give me a second," He hissed through gritted teeth. His eyes intensely focused on a pebble by your foot, trying to regain control. He held his own shape steady for a heartbeat, but glitched into Bruno and Maribel.

Camilo forcefully released his breath, then sucked in another and held it. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Abuela. Antonio. Maribel.

Then he was just himself.

He took a shuddering breath. Sweat was on his forehead, smeared with dirt. He leaned the back of his head against the dirt like you had done earlier and dragged a hand across his face.

"Does that," you carefully started, trying not to upset him. "Does that happen a lot?"

Camilo startled like he had forgotten that you were there. He turned his head to glance at you with an exhausted expression. "No, it's not-" He began, but then he studied your eyes for a second and gave in with a sigh.

"Only when I'm really upset or nervous or overwhelmed. I hate it," He said, angrily blinking back tears. "It shouldn't happen to me. I can't-" He paused to steady his wobbling voice. "I can't lose control like that. I can't get upset."

"Camilo," You quietly interjected. "Everyone gets upset. You don't have to be perfect."

"No. I do. I'm the happy Madrigal. I'm the carefree one." He bit his lip and looked away. "If I'm not, what am I even good for?" He half-smiled wryly. "I need to stop talking or I'm gonna cry."

Anger bubbled inside you like lava in an active volcano. His Abuela. How dare she crush Mirabel's spirits and  expect impossible perfection from Camilo?

"Camilo. Listen to me." You touched his shoulder and gazed into his eyes. "You'll never be perfect. Nobody is. And that's okay. Because- Because people will love the real you. Even if you aren't always strong."

Camilo's shoulder started shaking with sobs. He held his face in his hands.

"If your Abuela can't see that," you continued, searching for the right words. "then she's a fool." 

"Don't look at me." Camilo said, his voice hitching. His form shuddered and started shifting uncontrollably again. "You shouldn't see me like this."

"You think I'm gonna think you're pathetic?" You asked, upset at the self-loathing state his Abuela had reduced him to. 

He gave an almost undetectable nod. 

You lunged forward and held Camilo. "Then you're the fool." You whispered fiercely. Camilo's arms twisted around your waist. His heartbeat pounded against your chest. You both were cold, scared, and probably about to die. 

But somehow it felt like everything would be alright.