The Last Meeting at the Willow Tree

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You ended up leaving the party an hour early, sitting under the tree, picking dandelions and singing songs to calm your nerves. It didn't work, but it certainly passed the time.

Camilo and Mirabel came hiking up the hill, waving to you.

You'd never stood up so fast. Your heart started beating. Fast. Your hands started to shake, so you held them behind your back.

"Hey, Y/n. Why'd you call us up here?" Mirabel asked, rubbing her eyes. Clearly she had been asleep only a few minutes beforehand.

"Uhm.. well. I needed to talk to you guys. You're going to think I'm crazy, and that's okay, I very well might be." You start, carefully analyzing their faces.

You know for a fact you're not crazy, because otherwise how could you be so intuitive? Dreams don't affect the reality you're in, but in this life, you'd been an oblivious mess to other peoples feelings.

"Alright.. spit it out." Mirabel said, inching her way over to stand in front of Camilo. In this life, you'd never have noticed, the movements were so small.

More proof your other life existed. Proof you're not crazy.

"I had this dream.."

And the words just tumbled out of your mouth. Every happy moment, ever secret, every lie. Every beautiful night. Every laugh, every time someone cried, the number of tears. You tried avoiding any.. personal fun you and Camilo had together, but you'd nearly slipped too many times. You then about Dolores, Lochland, Cisco. The prisons, the dinners, walking Antonio to receive his gift. The gifts and Miracle Candle of your family.

"And then I woke up here, in my bed, with the dress I was wearing in my dream. My not dream. I don't know what to call it. My other life?" You finish, breathing heavy.

"I don't know what to say." Mirabel says, closing her eyes.

"Well I do." Camilo states. "You're crazy. There's no possible way that could've happened. This was so stupid, we're leaving. Not staying up here alone with someone who dreams about murdering."

"She's not crazy." Mirabel sighs.

"What?" Camilo protests, ready to tell her off.

"Just listen. I had the same 'dream' three nights ago in the jungle. Except it was from my perspective. Everything she said lines up. The conversations, word for word. The timelines, exactly the same. After you two left, the Encanto was in ruin. Antonio was on his deathbed, starving. But then, almost as if I was disappearing, I felt myself fade away. There were Mariposas everywhere. Yellow ones. I woke up in the jungle, but for me it wasn't a different life. It was just a dream." Mirabel explains, smiling.

"Why didn't you say anything?" You asked, frowning.

"I didn't think it meant anything. Just a weird dream. But then, when you called me your best friend, I knew it was real. When Camilo woke me up, asking me to come to the tree, I was like a kid on Christmas."

"It still doesn't make sense." Camilo whispers, looking at you strangely.

"Maybe, it doesn't have to." Mirabel lightly placed her hand on his shoulder. "I believe you, Y/n."

Mirabel stroked the designs in her dress, you notice a new stitch had been added. Black as night, so out of place for her bright, colorful skirt.

It was the Black Miracle Candle.

"Why do you have that?" You point out, choking up. You fought so hard to bring back the Encanto, to forget. Now, you'll be reminded every time you see her.

"We can't forget. We have to learn from the war, grow past it. Make sure nothing like this happens ever again. We're the future, Y/n. We can't forget the past."

You don't know how to respond to that. You'd been so lonely these past few days, grieving the loss of what you knew, while also being thankful it's gone.

It's lonely.

Why is it so lonely?

Because I'm not really alone.

Oddly enough, nobody is ever completely and truly alone. There's always someone going through the same thing, even if their situation may seem better. For you, that person was Mirabel.

Even if you wanted it to be Camilo.

"Alright. You two need some time to chat. I'll go." Mirabel gets up, brushing dirt and grass off of her skirt.

"What?" You and Camilo say in unison, wary of being alone with each other.

Mirabel had already made up her mind. She was already halfway done with her trek down the hill when you'd called out for her.

"So uhm.." Camilo begins, your attention snapping right back to him.

"So.." You say, looking down to your hands. You begin picking off your nails, ripping out grass, cracking your knuckles, anything to avoid talking.

"I'm sorry I don't remember." Camilo whispers, wiping something off of his face.

"What? How could you be sorry, it was my fault! None of this is your problem." You blurt, then look down again.

"If I remembered then we would still be together and you wouldn't be hurting so much. I'd be able to love you the same way you love me, but I can't and that's entirely on me."

"No. In this reality you would be insane and it wouldn't matter if you loved me or not because you would be driven to suicide. I made the choice to let you forget, it's completely on me." You remind him, refusing to allow any guilt over his shoulder.

"I do love you." Camilo blurts out, your next words hanging in your throat. "But I don't know you."

You nod, feeling tears well up in your eyes. You know this boy, love this boy, you're willing to die for this boy. And he doesn't have a clue you exist.

Is this what normal girls feel like?

Camilo reaches over to you, lightly pressing two fingers on your knee. It's not much comfort, but it's the first time he's touched you since you'd practically admitted to being insane.

"I'm sorry. I don't know you." Camilo apologizes, so sincerely a lump forms in your throat.

"I understand. I'll see you around." You sniff, barely containing your tears.

Making your escape, you walk down the hill, then once out of sight you sprint home, no longer able to contain your tears.

You open your front door only to see your Mama sitting on the dining room table, legs crossed, coffee in hand as she glares at you.

"What the hell are you doing this early in the day?" Mama tries to sound threatening, but she's clearly so tired it almost comes off as sleep-talk.

"Sorry Mama." You burst out sobbing, unable to control your emotions anymore.

"Oh, baby what's going on? Did someone hurt you?" Mama makes her way down from the dining table, over to you.

She barely has time to open her arms before you sink into them, sobbing. Mama strokes your hair, resting her head on yours. It's a good thing she's tall, she makes the perfect shoulder to cry on.

You are hurt. More hurt than anyone can ever imagine. Nearly a year with Camilo, with the Madrigals, erased. You'd even been accepted as an honorary Madrigal. Now none of them probably even know who you are.

"I'm just.. really scared lately. I've been having nightmares and I don't want to go to sleep." It's the truth, you're terrified. The nightmares are moments of your previous life.

"Come on, you need sleep. I'll stay with you tonight if you want." Mama offers, wrapping an arm around your waist and leading you up the stairs.

You end up passing out right on the top step. Mama sighs, lifts you bridal style, and brings you to your bed. She puts you under the blanket, a pillow under your head.

After you were settled, Mamas worries we're gone. She, like you, passed out immediately.

You didn't have a nightmare that night.

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