Worth The Shot

Infected

Today's fanart is by @Janice_The_Squid ! It's from the last chapter and AHHHHH. Camilo looks like a little player (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)

BACK TO THE STORY

There he was. Dawn light reflecting off his closed eyelids and his hands curled around his bare arms against the cold. The boy you'd held against your chest while he cried. The boy you'd helplessly watched bleed. The boy who'd sacrificed himself. The boy who'd suffered alone in a cruel cave. The boy you'd desperately prayed would survive.

Now, finally, he was here. Safe. Breathing peacefully by your side.

He was here. But he wasn't yours.

The grey rain had thinned to a trickle and then sunk drowsily into the damp earth. Early morning sunlight curled its misty tendrils down into the tunnel.

I should wake him up. His family will be worried. We should get going. But your hesitant hand floated over his bare shoulder. What Camilo would wake to greet you? Your lover? Your enemy? A scared kid who couldn't even remember his name?

"It's morning," you swallowed, tapping him softly. Camilo yawned, rolling his tan shoulders back. He propped himself into a seated position, leaning back on his hands.

"Camilo, how much do you remem-" You anxiously began, but Camilo cut you off, smiling reassuringly.

"Nothing changed," he shrugged, stretching his hands high above his head. From the back of his throat, he released a satisfied little ahh from his stretch. "We're all good, I remember the same as last night."

"Good," you exhaled, a relieved grin breaking across your face. Could the damage of your father's magic be over? You hoped so.

"Now put back on your shirt." You rolled your eyes at Camilo, whose muscular-armed, overhead stretches were getting slightly ridiculous.

"Funny, I could have sworn you were enjoying the show," Camilo smirked, but he slowly, deliberately teased his fabric of his white shirt over his neck and dragged his arms through. "Better, senorita?"

"You," you accusingly pointed at Camilo, "Don't deserve a response."

"Fair enough,"  he chuckled, carelessly tossing his dry wool ruana over his head. "Let's go."

And you did. The rugged storm last night had given you a wary itch to escape the open green field. When the scuffed black toes of your shoes bumped into hard rock, you shook out an unconscious breath. Leaving the ominous, everlasting grass felt like shedding an uncomfortable dress.

You and Camilo travelled in amiable quiet, occasionally swapping a few lines of light banter. The sun glowed overhead with afternoon heat, so you felt overwhelmingly grateful to hear the babbling swish of a river.

"It's the river," you realized out loud, cutting your hand through the crystal, cold surface. The water adjusted, warping in slivers of waves around your fingers as if they held no significance. As if nothing could disturb the steadfast, driven purpose of the current. The splashing sunlight seemed to hold itself with nobility and an eternal, otherworldly quality.

The river where the old man wanted to meet. Tonight. But I won't be there. I'm done taking stupid risks.

"The river? You've been here before?" Camilo blinked, surprised.

"I-" you guiltily hesitated, and Camilo patiently gave a tight-lipped smile. He was fighting a battle in his head on your behalf, you could tell. Fighting to trust you. Against his better instincts, against his own memories.

"Mirabel!" Camilo sharply called, suddenly rescuing you from answering. His feet tapped against the sandy riverbank as he jogged toward her glossy-eyed figure. She seemed lost in thought, gazing at a yellow butterfly as it lighted gently on a reed inside the current. You briefly wondered if the river had given her the strange eternal feeling, too.

At Camilo's shout, Mirabel startled, bolting straight to her feet. She tumbled off balance, splashing into the river with a tiny shriek.

"You guys found me," Mirabel smiled uneasily at Camilo and then you, her arms treading water. Little clear beads of water dripped down her glasses.

"Come back with us, Mirabel," you urged, bending down next to Camilo. "Nobody's mad at you. We're fixing Casita. Everything's going to be fine." Mirabel hesitated, glancing longingly over your shoulder toward the Encanto.

"I can't," she reluctantly said, paddling deeper into the river's rushing center. Her face fell. "I'm sorry. You should go. Thanks for looking for me."

You and Camilo balked at each other, stunned. That's it? She doesn't want to come back?

"We can't make her come," you murmured to Camilo, bumping his shoulder lightly. "But we can't leave her here, either. What should we do?"

Camilo frowned at you, his eyes unfocused as if picking over a plan. He suddenly charged toward the river, leaping in with a sloshing shower of water. After submerging, his head shot up next to Mirabel's, bobbing gently.

"Mirabel," Camilo sternly instructed, rubbing water out of his eyes with his sleeve. "Listen to me: our family loves you. We need you to come home."

Mirabel stared at her distorted reflection with a torn sadness. Camilo roughly pushed out a sigh. "I know- I know we haven't been as close as we were when we were kids. But when I said our family loves you, that includes me."

"I want to come back, Camilo," Mirabel whispered. "But I can't." The steady rush of riverwater blew away a jumble of words she breathed to Camilo. You couldn't hear, but her confession raised Camilo's eyebrows in visual shock. What did she tell him?

"Show me," Camilo encouraged, frowning with an expression of bewildered disbelief. Mirabel and Camilo swam to shore. Camilo waded out of the river, quick droplets of water slicking off his ruana, hair, and skin. Insecurely, Mirabel lingered at the water's edge, her earthy eyes darting around.

"It's okay," Camilo promised, smiling and offering her his dripping hand. "(Y/n) and I won't care." You felt a wave of nervous frustration at Camilo's promise. What if I do care? What is he talking about? Is she okay?

"Okay. Don't freak out," Mirabel muttered, emerging from the river. Liquid splashed off her shoulders, running down her arms in clear streaks.

"Woah..." Camilo grunted, clearly struggling to muffle his horrified reaction for Mirabel's sake. Even you couldn't stifle your gasp.

The burning sun design had twisted like poison ivy, crawling along every inch of her skin, not just her arm. The golden parasite curled in spidery, pronounced veins that bulged like rope cords. Around her ears, underneath her chin, down her legs...

She'd been infected.