I started this at 12 am jfc-
Pronouns: She/her implied, but not used
Relationship status: Dating
Tw: Small needle wounds/blood mention
"Y/n, I'm bored," Camilo announced one day.
He was sprawled across your bed as you worked at the table next to it, carefully stitching designs into a dress. Mirabel had taught you how to customize and embroider clothing at a young age, and now you were almost as good as her.
You smiled, glancing up. "What do you want to do?"
Your boyfriend shrugged, one hand tucked behind his head as he stared at the wall, which was covered in sketches you'd drawn. "I dunno. Something with you."
Turning your attention back to the dress in front of you, you said, "I'm a little busy, but we can do something when I'm done, okay?"
He huffed. "But I want to spend time with you!"
"You're already doing that," you reminded him, smiling a little.
He sighed and turned his attention to the ceiling. "Yeah..."
You giggled and picked up a spool of yellow thread, beginning a new pattern. People in the village liked to joke that you and Camilo were custom-made for each other, with Camilo's chaotic personality and your endless supply of calm energy and patience. Pepa was fond of teasing that you were the only person who would take him.
Camilo suddenly gasped, sitting up so fast he must have gotten a head rush. "I know!"
"Do you now?" you replied mildly, not looking at him. Should the dress have curly accents, or wavy accents?
He clapped excitedly. "What if I helped you with the dress?"
You finally glanced up with your eyebrows raised quizzically. "Are you sure? You don't really know how—"
"I want to help!" He jumped up, grabbed a second chair, and scooted next to you. "Show me how, o wise one!"
"Camilo—" you began, but he cut you off.
"I'm not leaving until you let me help," he said with a shit-eating grin. You raised your eyebrows, and he quickly added, "Or, you know, if you genuinely want me to leave."
You sighed, smiling exasperatedly. "I don't want you to leave, Cam, but we both know this isn't your area of expertise."
"No time like the present to learn, though, right?" he asked, shrugging. "It'll be fun!"
You sighed again. "Fine," you said, already regretting your decision, but the way his face lit up made the inevitable disaster worth it.
"Okay!" He rubbed his hands together, grinning maniacally. "Let's do this!"
-
"Well," he said when the two of you were done. "I think that went well!"
"You stabbed yourself with the needle thirteen times," you reminded him. "And stabbed me six times."
He winced, glancing at both of your bleeding hands. "Yeah...sorry about that. I didn't mean to hurt you."
You shrugged. "I poke myself a lot with those needles, Camilo. This is nothing new." You glanced at the dress. It was obvious who had done which part. Your side was beautifully patterned, decorated with flowers and other various nature objects. Camilo's side had a couple misshapen blobs, some random lines, and what looked like a curse word if you squinted at it.
Camilo's smile faltered a little. "Sorry about that, too—it really is harder than it looks."
You smiled at him. "Hey, it's okay. I was making this for myself anyway—"
"Oh." He grimaced. "Sorry. Now you won't want to wear it, huh?"
"Are you kidding?" You put your hand over his, ignoring the sting it caused. "I'm going to wear it all the time."
He blinked. "Really?"
"Mhm," you said, smiling. "This was the first one we ever did together. It has more character than anything else I've made."
He grinned. "Oh. Okay. Wait—what do you mean 'first?'"
"Come on, I saw your smile when you were making it," you said with a smile, pushing his shoulder a little. "You love it. Do you want me to teach you different techniques?"
He looked away, smiling shyly. "...yeah."
You heard a knock on your bedroom door, and Mirabel poked her head in. "Hola. What are you two doing?"
Camilo bounced in his seat. "Y/n and I made a dress, I wanna make more in the future, and my hand hurts!" He held out his bleeding hand to Mirabel, who grimaced.
"Yeesh. This is why we shouldn't let you near sharp objects." She made eye contact with you. "We're about to have lunch, do you want to come?"
You brushed your hair out of your eyes with a shrug. "I don't want to impose..."
"Come on, my family loves you!" Camilo and Mirabel said in unison. Camilo threw a string spool at her, which she caught with a smirk.
"I'll be outside," she said, and then disappeared from the room, dropping the spool on a nearby dresser.
Camilo affectionately bumped your shoulder with his own. "You know, I'm pretty sure my parents would adopt you if you could. There's no way you'd impose on anything."
You chuckled, ducking your head as you did so. "Okay—let's go." You stood up, and he did too, taking your hand. "I just hope Mirabel will tell them I'm coming."
He smiled, but something was off. He had a tight look around his eyes, and his smile seemed strained. "What's wrong?" you asked, your eyebrows creasing.
"Nothing—it's just that the needle things really hurt," he gasped.
You dropped his hand, which he didn't seem too happy about. "Okay, no hand holding until we get to Julieta, okay?"
He pouted. "Okay, dulzura..."
You quietly laughed at his comically upset expression, but linked your elbow through his, which perked him right up. "Hey, this works too!"
Mirabel walked back in the doorway. "Y'all coming? Because if not, I'm eating everything."
Camilo gasped. "No!"
You smirked, picking up the end of your skirt. "I'll race you both."
"You're on!" the cousins shouted, and the three of you tore from the house, laughing and name calling like children on a playground.
