Camilo x Reader -Broken Reflection

Chapter 31 (Uncomfortable)

Y/N's POV

It took me much too long to even register what was happening. One minute, I was following Camilo behind his stage and getting ready to confront him, the next, my face was between his gentle yet assertive hands, and his lips were pressed against mine.

My heart raced a mile a minute. My hands hung limply at my sides. My head swam a little at the serge of his emotions that changed so quickly that I couldn't tell what they were.

And then Camilo pulled away. He looked at me with wide eyes and then he was gone, and the only things that marked his past presence were the way the deep red stage curtains rustled after he pushed them aside and the tingle on my lips.

Camilo's POV

He burst through the Casita's doors and tumbled into the bathroom. He panted wildly and his head swam, his dark curly hair clinging to the sides of his face and his forehead. He pulled his ruana up and over his head, tossing it to the ground next to the sink. He clung to its porcelain frame for support, wishing that he could take back the last few minutes of his life.

His heart filled with regret but he knew there was nothing he could do to change the past.

Fuck.

Camilo looked up into his mirror. For once, he recognized the face that stared back at him. He looked tired and a little older than usual. His cheeks were flushed red in embarrassment and self-hatred.

He kissed her.

His cheeks shot even redder and he touched the tips of his fingers to his lips. He could still feel the trace of Her's on his mouth and he pulled away from the mirror, flicking the tap on and splashing his face with water.

He didn't care that it wet his hair and ran down his neck and bled into his clothes. He didn't even care about the fact that he practically confessed his feelings for her while they were in the middle of a fight. What mattered most was the fact that he kissed her without even asking.

It was a split-second decision. He knew what she went through as a child. He knew how much she valued her own space and he knew to respect it. But he messed up greatly this time.

Camilo slid onto the floor and buried his face in his hands. She probably hated him. She was probably packing her bags right then and getting the hell out of the Casita. He didn't blame her. He and his family were messed up in their own ways. Living with them was like being the star of a shitshow. If she really were leaving, he wished that he wasn't her breaking point.

As he squeezed his eyes shut, he could see Her face in his mind. He could see her dazed wide eyes and the way her arms were held stiff at her sides. Camilo knew that he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but it didn't take a genius to know that she did not enjoy the kiss.

And neither did he. He was so jealous and frustrated and felt so much longing that he lost all sense of right and wrong. He was so focused on their fight and not wanting to lose her as a friend that the kiss felt like nothing. It didn't feel quite right.

There was a light knock on the bathroom door and Camilo tensed. He ran his fingers under his eyes and nose and stood, easing his way to the door and praying that whoever was behind it wasn't the girl he thought it was.

Off to the side of him, a potted plant sitting in a corner. Webs clung to the floor and walls. The plant was leafy and once green, but now it was wilted and reflected how he felt.

His fingers shook as he opened the door.

It was Her.

"Hey," she began. It could have been his imagination, but Camilo swore he saw a hint of suppressed anger in her eyes. He could feel it like a distant whisper. It chilled his skin. He wished that he'd never see it again. The thought of her hating him made his stomach twist and he suddenly felt the need to throw up.

He swallowed. "Hi," he said, but his voice came out in a squeak.

This is it, he told himself. She's coming to tell me to go to hell and that she'll see me there. She's gonna leave us, leave me and never come back.

Tears pricked Camilo's eyes and he watched his friend's eyebrows knit into a long line.

"What's wrong?" she asked him. "Your emotions are all over the place."

She's mad. She hates my guts. She wishes that she never met me.

Her eyes searched Camilo's. They were filled with forced concern. She was just asking him what was wrong so that she could throw it in his face, he figured.

She wishes I was more like Antonio and Mirabel. That's it. That's why she's leaving me. I'll never be good enough just like Abuela said.

"Don't go," Camilo pleaded. He hated the way his voice cracked and broke. He hated how vulnerable he was at that moment. He dreaded the look on her face as she stepped back. Her words didn't even register when she said, "I'm not going anywhere, Camilo."

"I'm sorry," He said to her. He picked at the skin that surrounded his nails and ignored the sharp pain he felt when his nails broke the skin. "I didn't mean to do it," he stepped closer and chewed on his bottom lip.

"Look, about the kiss," she began, and he flinched at the way she said the word. She lingered on it like she wasn't sure how to break the bad news to him. He knew that he wouldn't be able to take it if she were going to.

That's why he stood a little straighter. He did what he always did when he didn't know how he was supposed to act as Camilo Madrigal. He mimicked Luisa's confidence. He held Isabela's posture. He forced a smile that looked like Pepa's.

"Oh, that," he said breezily as if he kissed plenty of girls against their will. Or, in general, for that matter (which he definitely did not). "Forget about that," he told her. "Not something to get all serious about." He examined his nails just as he'd seen Mirabel do after Antonio painted them.

Through the corner of his eyes, he saw Her face fall.

"Oh," she replied. Somehow, he didn't feel better at all.

"It's not a big deal," he said quietly. She nodded.

"I never said I wanted to end our friendship," she said quickly. Camilo shrugged and acted like it didn't make much difference to him and his heart wasn't beating so fast that it could burst out of his chest at any moment.

Finally, he looked at her. She stared at her feet. Was she hanging her head? Was she embarrassed? He didn't have the courage to ask.

When the silence stretched for too long and got too loud, he pushed off of the doorframe and slid past his friend, avoiding contact with her at all costs.

"I'm gonna eat now," he said to her as if it were an afterthought.

Camilo didn't look at her again, but he didn't need to to know how disappointed she was.