bonnie & clyde

Joy [chapter 22]

"What's happened?" y/n's father came rushing up, navigating his way through the ruins of Casita to find where the rest of the Madrigals were meeting. He had on his work clothes, and his hands were slightly dirtied with some sort of grime. It was obvious he had been running his rounds in the village when the miracle died. "Y/n? Are you okay?"

He came up to his daughter, cupping her cheeks with a worried look in his eyes. He pinched her cheeks, inspecting one side of her face before forcing it to the other side for him to check. The breath he was holding released when he didn't see any sort of marking on her face that hadn't already been here. And even then, it was only a mosquito bite from yesterday.

"Papá, I'm fine," she assured, pulling away from his hands which had surely rubbed streaks of whatever he had on them onto her face.

He noted the sorrow in her voice, furrowing his brows at this. Señor l/n glanced around at the rest of the Madrigals who looked just as solemn. His fretting father persona changed into the serious man he usually was. He locked eyes with the eldest member of the family, his stare ultimately the most intimidating one she'd ever encountered. It was one in which could counter her own.

"What happened?"

"The house, it's collapsed," Abuela stated the obvious, her brows screwing together and further providing her face with wrinkles that naturally came with age and stress. Her eyes went to the ground. "The miracle, it's burned out," she frowned. Her eyes looked back up into y/n's father's, "And Mirabel, she's missing."

Y/n's father only took a quick few seconds to evaluate the situation and made a plan. He was known for his swift mind. "I'll set up search parties. Each will be assigned one spot to look. On off hours, like lunch breaks or when it's time to go home for the night, you can stay at my place."

"Are you sure?" Julieta was quick to ask.

"Yeah," the father shrugged, wiping his hands off on the stained shirt he wore when working. It always came in useful at times like these when he needed to rid his hands of something. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Agustín rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish look, speaking in a tone that matched his looks, "Well, I mean, you do have two other kids apart from y/n. And your sister moved in with her mini army of seven, so we know you're house is already full enough..."

"Just consider this me spreading the joy," the father shrugged before walking off toward the village where many people had gathered and gazed curiously at the remains of the house that once stood tall.

Camilo and y/n couldn't help but chortle at this despite the depressing situation they were faced with.

They sat on the counter, legs swinging back and forwards as they watched her father cook. This was one of the first times Camilo had been over to her house, and here he was, staying over for dinner. You could say their relationship was fast paced—

"Señor?" Camilo called to her father, leaning most of his weight back on his hands.

He was going through this faze of wanting extremely long hair and wearing colors that were complete opposite of one another. He constantly had to use his hands to move his long and extremely healthy locks away from his face. The boy, at the time, was wearing this ugly green sweater. It was several sizes too large. As for pants, he wore pink ones.

Honestly, what possessed that boy to wear such atrocious clothing? It was an eyesore.

Y/n sat with her hands in her lap and with proper posture. In a criss-cross position for her legs, her eyes roamed around the kitchen she had become very familiar with over the years. Her feet, which were covered by the socks she wore, were on the counter. It happened to be the only place off limits for her feet within that household.