Worth The Shot

To Dust All Return

Today's fanart is by @YourLocalSimpDownTheHood ! It's of the scene in A Shower of Stars where Camilo first tells y/n he loves her. I love Camilo's eyes, they look so sweet and gentle in the sunlight ahhhh!!

BACK TO THE STORY

The roof was falling. Casita was breaking.

"Camilo!" You screamed, stumbling toward the kitchen as dust and debris flared around you. "Get out of there!" You shielded your face with your arm.

High from its perch, the brilliant-yellow Madrigal miracle candle spluttered, suffocating. The flame greedily devoured the butterfly-engraved base, melting it lower and lower. Ripped from its hinges, Luisa's door twisted crookedly, screeching apart.

"Camilo!" You coughed out his name, desperately shoving away a flimsy slate of plaster that painfully cracked over your foot. A tinkling chime crashed from the kitchen as china plates shattered. Camilo sharply cried out in pain. 

Is he hurt? Did he cut himself on the glass? The cruel downpour of bricks and sandy crumbs shrouded your vision in a blur. Adrenaline thumped forcefully in your chest, and you squinted into the encircling chaos. You couldn't see a thing. Where is he? Which way is the kitchen? You blundered forward, wheezing heavily for breaths.

Like a gold-orange angel of death, Camilo's glitching door careened over the railing, lunging for you. Gasping, you dodged left. But the door slammed you to the ground, an iron sheet. You couldn't shoulder the lumbering slat of wood off your back. 

Panic coursed through you. You writhed in a desperate struggle, your cheek mercilessly pushed against the coarse stone floor. Tears of terror burned your eyes, stinging like the sawdusty smoke. I can't move my legs. I can't move at all. 

"What are you doing all the way down there?" Camilo playfully smiled, dropping to a crouch by your head. Effortlessly, he masked his fear for you with a lighthearted grin. As the sky exploded into shards all around, Camilo's soft green eyes cradled your tear-filled gaze. "C'mon, let's get out of here."

"I'm gonna pull this off you!" Camilo shouted, tightening his muscles as his hands firmly planted underneath the door. After a futile, rough attempt to lift the cumbersome wood, Camilo exhaled a frustrated gasp. He instructed, "I need you to push up on the count of three!" 

Anxious hopelessness sunk in your stomach like cold, plunking rocks. It became obvious: The door was too heavy. He couldn't lift it. Camilo released soft growls, pointlessly struggling against gravity's cruel pressure. 

"Camilo! Camilo, it's too heavy," you coughed, wincing as the massive weight thudded against your back. You finally stopped pushing up, collapsing breathlessly onto your stomach. 

Camilo didn't even respond, grunting as he strained, fingers curled roughly around the door. Blood from his hands, sanded raw by the wood, trickled down to his wrist in forked streams. 

"Let go, Camilo." 

He didn't. 

"It's okay." 

Camilo ignored you, hissing in pain as he rubbed his palms bloody. 

"Camilo-"

"Would you stop talking? I can do this!" Camilo desperately demanded, eyes narrowed in intense concentration. Sweat rained down his face and neck, mingling into a nasty, red cut that sliced along his jawline. He did hurt himself. Is there glass in his wound?

Like a snarling demon, the house rumbled and shook. Shrieking to remind you that time skittered away. Bullets of rubble pounded Camilo's back. He choked out a raspy gasp, but his body didn't flinch away. 

"Let me go," you gently pleaded, hurting for him as if your own hands bled and suffered. You don't even remember me. You'll get over this. You'll be okay, if you leave now. 

"I can't," Camilo whimpered, voice thick with emotion. His eyes feverishly flickered to yours, dewy and scared. "I don't know why. But I can't." 

"But you have to," you whispered, a bittersweet spring rippling in your heart. He can't remember me. But he can't leave me, either. Does he remember a feeling? But it didn't matter anymore. If Camilo didn't leave now, Casita's roof would crush his bones. 

"Goodbye, Camilo," you choked out, watching the tortured, rigid set of his shoulders. His curls flopped limply as he forcefully yanked at the door. His heavy eyebrows scowled, and he bit his lip to keep it from trembling. 

 I love you. You thought hopelessly as a rock menacingly obstructed the entrance. Then, angrily, Say it, you coward. You're going to die anyway. 

"Camilo," you firmly stated, staring him square in the eye. Camilo brokenly glanced up, hopelessly drowning in grief. It was too late for both of you now. He knew it. 

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't save you," Camilo whispered, helplessly letting his battered hands fall. 

Rocks had scoured the back of his white button-up shirt, tearing holes into the fabric and bruising his tanned skin. His knees curled to his chest, and he leaned his back against the door carcass stretched dead on the floor. 

And now you waited. Waited for death. 

"It'll be quick. Don't be scared," Camilo grimly promised, staying close by your side. Camilo had played many roles to you. A friend. A lover. And now an angel, easing you through your last moments. 

Dust whisked around you and Camilo, as if revering the last beings alive in the destruction of a dark star. You could barely breath; dust sunk into your mouths, noses, and eyes, fusing with your blood and dulling your minds. A lightheaded dizziness flicked your consciousness on and off like a dying lightbulb. You vaguely registered Camilo holding onto your hand.

Odd words nightmarishly swirled through your mind, plucked from a distant memory. Words from an ancient, silver-covered book from which your father once read, lightyears away. "All go to one place. All are from the dust, and to dust all return."

As the world collapsed in, you breathed three final words. Your golden thread. Your sacred oath. 

"I love you." 

"What?"