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Scrappy little thing.
It wasn’t always this way,
Their was a time where Camilo went out just for fun! Just to walk around with a smile and see who smiled back.
And to lend a helping hand where they could.
And he actually remembers the day it started.
Dolores had just gotten overwhelmed, and their Mama was taking a much needed nap in her room.
(Not that she didn’t like her own door, but Dolores’s was sound proof. And they recently found out she was going through a wicked insomnia bout and hadn’t sleep in a week straight. So with her body literally shutting down, his sister was more then happy to offer up her room. As a guarantee of peaceful sleep.)
But now, with the world loud and no magic door to drown it out, Camilo took it upon themselves to be their for his Hermana.
Dolores had been their for him numerous times, especially when he realized they were nonbinary, so It was the least he could do.
“Hey,” they hushed, barely moving his vocal chords at all, “Your ok. I’m here Dolo.”
His sister trembled heartbreakingly, from where she was positioned under their arm. Camilos rauna covering her in a protective blanket.
“C-ca,” her lips moved, as if to communicate, but sound failed her, and probably didn’t want to add another noise to the already painful world.
“Hey, dont talk, it will only make it worse. Just draw it on my hand.”
Dolores blushed, nodding slowly.
The thought brought a twinkle to Camilos eye,
‘Draw on my hand’ had been something they cultivated when they were young. Dolores struggling with being non-verbal more commonly.
So in all his little, chubby, sticky handed glory, they’d told her to just draw on his hand. Write the letters that were so hard to speak.
Camilo was stilted out of his little reverie by the feeling of a cold finger pressing into his palm.
He looked down with muted curiosity, making sure his grip around his sister was just as comforting.
“M….A….M….A, wait, Mama? You know she’s sleeping Dolo?”
Dolores flushed harder, ducking further in their embrace to hide it. Before pointing at Camilo himself.
It was this little context clue that made him understand. Mainly, because he would have wanted the same in her place.
He smiled gently, “Oh, you want me to shift into Mama.”
She nodded, looking bashful, but earnest.
“C-cold.”
Camilo understood that as well. Along with their mother being the most comforting thing in their lives, she also possessed wickedly cold hands. Something he knew Dolores liked a lot.
“Ok then…,” they allowed themselves to picture their sweet Mami, before feeling that familiar shifting jolt, “Uh, is this better?”
Dolores muttered something unintelligible, shifting even closer into the yellow dress, while simultaneously bringing her knees up.
She was basically curled into an impossibly small ball in his- well technically her- lap.
A small nudge from her forehead was all it too to snap him back into action, lifting a skinny pale hand and embedding it softly in her hair like he’s seen so many times from afar.
It’s then that Dolores finally seems to relax. Hands becoming less forceful against her ears.
“Gracias Cami.”
It was quiet, but they still heard clearly. Letting it soak in the silence of the hallway.
“Of course Dolo.”
They had continued to sit their for a while. Just being their in the moment. Waiting for his sisters breathing to completely even out.
“Dolo?” His brows furrowed slightly, a random question popping into his mind, “What’s it like? To hear everything? Like what’s it truly like?”
Their was a pause. And briefly he wondered if what he said was too personal.
“Dolo, I’m sorry you don’t have to-“
-“Heavy,” her voice cuts through like steel, sounding completely exhausted, “You hear everyone’s thoughts. At the risk of your own. And sometimes you don’t even know if it’s yours or not.”
“Oh.” His breath left in a little puff of air.
“Not to mention, it’s loud. Like the loudest thing you can imagine. Except it never stops. And it can only fade into a dull buzz. And you try to decipher it all, if you want to, you can hear each individual sound. But that’s too tiring to do, every minute of every day.”
They continually scratch her scalp with his Pepa-fied fingers. Hoping to soothe her rapid thoughts.
Dolores speaks very lowly, “I do recommend it to you. Not my gift of course, but just listening. Sometimes. The world can offer you something new if you keep your ears open.”
Camilo noted that piece of advice. And decided to try it out later that day.
He walks through the town, ears tilted to pick up any noise. It’s almost peaceful in a way. They know it’s not the same for Dolores, but to him, it’s a good example.
What irritates Camilo, is that not everyone seems to be truthful in front him.
It irks him he hasn’t noticed that before.
It’s like as soon as they see a Madrigal, they put on a facade, like a mask.
We’ll, two can play at that game. Camilo thinks with a smirk.
They look out, and pick a person at random, effortlessly shifting so their identical.
They like the skirts their wearing, it’s nice and flowy, and he makes a quick note of the patchwork. So he can mention it to Mirabel later on. She sometimes likes to make them hand sewn skirts. So he can feel more confident in his Enby-ness.
It’s surprising how immediate things change.
Gone are the shining smiles they were so used to, replaced by weary sighs and groans of relief.
“Thank god he left,” one comments, “It’s so hard to pretend all the time.”
Ouch.
Camilo shrugs it off with a shake of his head. They can understand where that person was coming from. He’s descended from the ‘famous Madrigals’ and while he doesn’t exactly like how worshiped they are, he gets why people would want to look perfect in front of them.
But this is the first taste of the truth he’s gotten in ages, so quietly, they follow along. Not really with a purpose, their kinda drifting around. Almost ghost like. Their shapeshifting giving them the cloak of invisibility they never knew he could possess.
It’s kinda overwhelming, how much truth he starts to hear.
“I think I’m pregnant.”
“I can’t do this anymore.”
“I like her.”
“I like him.”
“I like them.”
“Does this rauna make me look handsome?”
“I like this skirt, but I’d feel foolish wearing it in front of anyone.”
“Have you seen the madrigals today?”
“I think their taking a break?”
“How long?”
“How high?”
“A little bit to the right.”
“How does it look?”
“How do I look?”
“Does this look concerning at all to you?”
“How much have you had to eat today?”
“What do you want to eat?”
“I don’t like that type of rice.”
“Gosh I can’t believe I can’t cook rice yet.”
“I wish I had julietas gift.”
“I wish I had a gift at all.”
“What can I-“
-Camilo nearly screams. Slapping his hands over his ears and ducking into the nearest allyway.
All the voices? All the thoughts! All the things no one else listens in too. It’s all too much!
He pants for a moment, taking the time to regain their breath. While a terrifying thought hits him.
That’s what Camilo just heard with his perfectly normal ears.
Dolores heard that tencefold. With no way of stopping.
The realization of how much her gift can hurt her really impacts them. As they understand what their cousin goes through more then ever.
It’s that thought that makes Camilo shake off the anxious feeling in his gut.
If Dolores could get through what she does, they can get through this. All it took was some concentration. And the ability to sift through the many sounds.
It takes a tremendous effort, and multiple different days, but Camilo eventually finds out the best paths, best places to hide, and best people to mask as.
It’s like a whole new world, he feels like he knows so much. Knows more about the town then they’d ever previously cared too.
It obviously isn’t as much as his sister, but it’s something.
Theirs a little pep in Camilos step, as they walk down the streets as his own self.
People still give the typical smiling Hi’s but this time, he knew what truly lay behind them.
But this day has been different, because despite the deluding mediocrity of this afternoon,
it had happened for the very first time.
Camilo was masquerading as towns-folks. Doing as they normally did nowadays, When he overheard someone talking by some laundry.
“Have you seen Felix Madrigal lately?” The first questioned.
“Yeah, and what by it?” Another voice chimed.
“He has this salt and pepper hair now, and It’s oddly handsome.”
“Oh yes,” the one girl giggled, “Makes him look very mature.”
It made Camilo uncomfortable to hear people talk about his dad like that, but he assumed some people would have one sided crushes on people. He can’t exactly blame people for their feelings. As long as they didn’t act on it.
“But what’s his deal?”
“What do you mean?”
“He seems so happy all the time.”
“Is that wrong?”
“No…but like, he married Pepa. Who’s like the moodiest woman ever.”
Anger quickly started to seep into his veins, as they edged closer to the girls, still unnoticed.
“I see what you mean. She’s kinda a basket case. How does he put up with her?”
“I think it’s just cause she’s got the blood,” the other girl mused, “He wanted magical kids.”
“That’s gotta be it. She’s definitely not the most attractive Madrigal.”
“Especially with the hair! And the gap between her teeth.”
“He should have tried to court Julieta. She’s much prettier.”
“Not to mention she actually acts normal. No offense to Pepa of course, but she’s always acting so weird, and what’s with all the odd twitching?”
-“Ok. I’m going to stop you their.”
Camilo stepped out of the shadows. Deciding at the last minute to not shift back to normal. He wanted to give them a chance to apologize on their own.
The two looked at them strangely, “Allegra? Can we help you with something.”
They must have not been close, he would have to keep an eye out for relationships I the future. Help them blend in even more.
“If the Madrigals were to hear you, you should be ashamed of yourself! Saying such mean words.”
“No one can hear us,” the blond rolled her eyes, “Maybe except the hearing girl. Dolores, yeah that’s it.”
“Ugh she’s such a prude,” the other laminated, “No one likes a nosey busybody.”
“You don’t know the first thing about her!”
Camilo had to calm himself down. It was clear whoever he appeared as typically didn’t get mad at things.
“What I mean, is I overheard someone mentioning she can’t control it. She probably hears everything you do without even wanting too.”
The two considered The thought.
“We’ll maybe, but it doesn’t give her the right to spread the gossip.”
He tilted their head, “Well if you heard every secret in town. I feel like it would be pretty hard to keep it all in.”
“Hmm. You might be right about that.”
“But that doesn’t explain why Felix got with Pepa.”
Camilo glared, “We’ll I don’t know, maybe they genuinely Love each other? Regardless of looks or moods?”
The two burst into small giggles, “Oh Allegra, you’ve never been this funny before. Looks is all apart of marriage. You couldn’t do it with someone who’s built like that.”
“Yeah,” the first girl snarked, “Thank god her kids don’t look like her.”
“That’s enough!” Camilo was nearly trembling with rage, practically seething with the idea of these rude girls insulting his poor sweet Mami.
One who always comforted them when they were sad. And openly accepting their gender.
She was the most beautiful person in this world, besides his sister, father, and brother. And he’d rather die then listen to them insult her again.
With a jolt; he let himself shift back to normal. The two girls gasping in horror at his true form.
“C-Camilo!” One squealed, “Y-you, you can’t just do that?”
The other one frantically tried to deny everything they’d been so blatant about seconds ago, “W-we we’re just joking! Your mother’s very beautiful. We’d never truly say those things about her.”
“Except you just did. Numerous times. When you thought I was someone else.”
The girls were rendered speechless. Staring with wide eyes.
Camilo stepped forward, scowling deeply.
“My mother is a beautiful woman. And I love her very dearly. My Papa loves her with his entire heart. And contrary to what you think, my Mami is just as normal as you. No matter what she says or does. Those little twitches are her just enjoying, or soothing herself. So think twice before you speak.”
They looked worried, “Are you going to tell them what we said?”
“No,” he stated simply, walking closer, “But if i hear you saying another word against my Familia, I will not hesitate to spread the gossip. If you know what I mean.”
“Got it!” One girl squealed, before the two ran in the other direction. Thoroughly scared for their life’s.
Camilo sighed, face still scrunched in discontent.
If this is what we’re a couple of girls we’re saying while doing laundry, he can hardly imagine what other people are whispering.
It’s then he takes it on himself to find out. He will be his family’s protector, instead of the practical joker.
He grins.
Protector huh? Camilo likes that. It’s like his talent finally has use.
——-
He nearly regrets that decision now.
What Camilo hadn’t predicted, was just how many people gossiped behind their back. And how angry he would get.
It’s when a dumb boy is whispering to his friends, whispering about how beautiful Isabellas body is.
Not in a normal way, like boys may do, but it is too lustfull.
He wants to do things to her. Wants to hurt her with his attraction.
“What’s she gonna do?” He smirks, “Vine me away? I’d break her like a flower stem.”
Camilo moves faster then he can process, morphing his fist so it is heavy, and clocking the guy so hard he falls to the ground.
“Don’t you EVER GO NEAR MY COUSIN!” Their chest is heaving. The sound has disappeared slightly, and briefly he can feel something wet on his face.
They touch it with a finger, and it comes back red.
Blood.
The world flashes through his mind. But they can’t make the connection.
That is, until he glances at his still clenched fist.
His stomach drops.
He was wearing a ring.
Whoever he shifted into was wearing a ring.
You never punch someone while wearing a ring.
But then the boy is standing shakily to his feet, face enraged and signaling for his boys to hold Camilo steady.
He struggles. He really does. Puts up all the fight they can manage. But their stronger. No matter who he shifts into.
“It’s for Isabella.” He mutters to himself after the first punch.
“It’s for Isabella.” He mumbles. After the second
It’s for Isabella. They think, after another leaves him seeing stars.
Isabella, who had single handedly given him their first dress. Making it a rainbow of colors that fit their eccentric personality.
Isabella, who would send him a flower on the days where his smile wouldn’t reach his eyes.
Isabella, who they they looked up to nearly just as much as Dolores.
He imagines Isabella after this disgusting Man gets to her. Pictures her laying on the floor. Crying and in pain.
And that’s the motivation they channel to keep strong. Take the punches no matter how hard or long they fly.
Because this is what he must now do for his family.
After they leave him crumpled on the ground, he takes out the pastry they’d unknowingly shoved into their pocket. Simply just wanting a snack for later.
But now they have a much different purpose. Healing his broken body.
The pain is gone in an instant. The mere feeling making them smile.
Cause In some way, they feel like they cheated those boys.
That guy will feel that punch for at least a week. While Camilo will walk around Scott free.
To be fair, he waits. Wants to see if he manages to get the guy to back off.
Camilos smile is all the bigger when it pays off.
It is a week later. No one has hurt his Prima. And the guy in question stays far away from their family.
This gives him confidence. This gives him worth. He can go out. Punch a person, and they’ll stop whispering about his family.
They can protect his family from afar.
What he doesn’t expect is the toll this would take.
At first it’s ok. As long as they bring something from tia Julietas cooking, he’s instantly healed.
But the words weight heavy on them.
“Luisas too bulky, no lady should be that masculine.”
“I don’t understand what they see in Mirabel. She still has no gift. “
“Why hasn’t Isabella found another man in her life yet?”
“Will Camilo ever grow up?”
“Pepas is such a freak.”
“Why does Dolores act so weird?”
“Augustiñe is so below Julietas league. She probably married just to have children.”
“What kind of guy is Felix? Letting the wife have that kind of control?”
“Why hasn’t Abuela remarried?”
“Where did Bruno come from?”
It all blends together, until Camilo loses track of each fight.
Loses themself in the process.
It’s at a point where his life is one continuous fight. One continuous noise, stringing from insult to insult.
What if he stopped punching?
It goes through their mind once or twice, as they lay awake at night.
If Camilo stopped throwing the first punch, all the fighting would cease. The cycle would end. And they wouldn’t have to wake up, and find a way to sneak an arepa into their pocket.
Everything would go away.
Except that’s not true.
Camilos tired. But not stupid.
Even if he stopped scouting, the words would still be spread. The cycle wouldn’t be broken. People would still get hurt.
But he longed to break free of what had become their life.
So with a conflicted mind, he decided to get advice from the only person they trusted with this information, right where it all started.
One, Dolores Madrigal.
Besides, he knows she can hear everything. She’s heard every single fight they’ve been in.
Now that he thinks about it, it’s odd she hasn’t said anything about it. Knowing Dolores, she’s a big worrier. Probably an inherited gene from their Mama.
So what hasn’t she spilled the beans?
Camilo slowly opens his door, peeking around for any late night goers, before tiptoeing over to his sisters room.
He wipes his sweaty hands on his pajama gown. With half a mind to just turn back and forget they even tried.
But then the doors swinging open, and Dolores is standing their, hair put up, dark circles surrounding her eyes, and clad in a extra soft Ruana she likes to sleep in.
“Camilo?” She blinks slowly, as if testing their real ness, “Your so loud? Do you need something?”
Camilo winced, he had tried to be quiet. But maybe his sleep deprivation made them forget to factor that in.
“Is this about the fights?”
They blinked rapidly, taken aback by the bluntness of the question. It wasn’t odd though, Dolores could be a blunt person.
Still, it was hard to answer. And their throat croaked painful with unshed answers.
Dolores just sleepily turns her head, squeaks weakly, and waves him in.
“Come Hermanito. I hear everything.”
It was both an invitation, and subtle threat. Telling Camilo he was welcome to spill his troubles, but his sister would know if he’d try and lie about what they’ve been doing for the past few weeks.
They stumbled meekly after his Hermana. The sound around them immediately becoming a bit wonky.
Dolores’s room was soundproof, offered as a small break from the consistant sound. So any noise inside the room always reverberated kinda weirdly.
“H-heyy Dolores?” They stuttered nervously, the quiet unnerving their already shot nerves, “So how you doing? What’s been up? Anything-“
-“Are you going to stop fighting?”
Once again. Straight to the point.
Camilo cut off with a choked groan, glancing anywhere but his sister.
“Cami,” his sister slurred, eyes imploring, “You have to stop.”
He winced again, hating how tired Dolores looked. They felt bad for waking her. She probably struggled with sleep enough as it was.
A key sign of her exhaustion, was the thumb brought to her lips, tiredly gnawing on the nail.
When she was young, it had been hard to grow out of her thumbsucking phase. Their mother had found it endearing, as apparently it was the same when she was young. And often times, you could find them both biting their nails in unison, looking nearly identical.
Camilo wondered sometimes if Dolores was literally just a copy of Pepa. They were so alike in so many ways. It was a bit outstanding when you thought about it.
Camilo on the other hand, was always a mix of his mom and dad. Their were traits they possessed from either of them. He had inherited his dads cool attitude. Calming when his family needed them to be.
But then a twist of their mother’s eccentricity slipped in, and they were born as mischievous as they come.
“I don’t..think I…need to stop?” He muttered uncertainly.
Dolores glared.
Wrong answer.
“Why haven’t you stopped me?” Camilo questioned defiantly.
The only way to stump a blunt person was ask a blunt question back.
His sister paused. Giving another tired squeak.
“Because it’s up to you,” she answered slowly, “As much as I could have done. Told Mama, Have them deal with it, if you were passionate enough about it, you wouldn’t stop until you felt like you had a reason too.”
They slumped forward a little, taking a seat next to Dolores on the bed, “You don’t think the guilt of having my family find out would be enough?”
“I considered that option, but in the end I concluded that would only fuel you.”
She softened a bit, tugging Camilo into a one armed hug, “I know why you do it. Or at least I think I do. I hear what people say before. And what you say after.
Dolores shivered, “I hear the sound of fist against flesh. And bones being broken.”
Camilo tried to squiggle away, shame overtaking them in a way it hadn’t before. But his sister held on tight. Maybe a little tighter then usual. As if making sure they were still their. Were still alive and weren’t being pummeled to a pulp.
“I never meant to hurt you. Or worry you.” They try to say.
But it seemed to make it worse, Dolores looked hurt now, flinching away despite her hold.
“You don’t think my little nibbling getting beat every day would hurt me?” Her voice soft, but cracking with pain, “My little Cami? Bones breaking from the stress of the family? D-do I make you feel like you need to do this? To hurt yourself for me?”
“N-no!” He nearly yells, quieting down for his sisters sake, “Dolores you never made me feel like I had to do anything! I just, I hate the fact that theirs people out their, who are talking about you. About our familia! And no ones doing anything about it!”
They sigh, “And so.., I took it upon myself to do something about it.”
“But that’s not your job.” Dolores stresses. Grasping Camilos hand tightly.
“But if I don’t do it, who will?”
His sister doesn’t answer. Looks deep in thought again.
“You just don’t understand Dolo,” Camilo reasons, “The things people say, the stuff they say about our family-“
-“OF COURSE I KNOW!”
He jolts, stunned speechless at his hermanos outburst. Dolores never yelled at anyone, ever.
She looks angry now, clasping her hands together so fiercely, he can hear bones pop and crack.
“I know what they say, Camilo, I know what everyone says.” the girl tilts her ears out to bare witness, “I know what they think about me and Mama. How we’re freaks because I can’t handle sound, and she can’t express her emotions. But I certainly don’t go out punching whoever I can because of it!.”
He’s silent, ashamed he didn’t think Dolores could ever understand. How could he ever think that. Dolores heard more then they ever would.
But hesitantly, he speaks again, “But… but your not a freak Dolo. Neither is mama.”
“I know…” she’s soft again, possibly a good sign, “Or at least I try and tell myself that. Cause it hurts no matter what I do.”
“I’m sorry,” Camilo reaches in, giving her a hug, waiting for her tense muscles to relax, before parting, “but doesn’t that make you want to do something? Do something to get them to stop? I mean it hurts you so much?”
Dolores looks away, “Camilo. No matter how many times I could run to Mama, their would always be someone out their, ruining the world with poisonous words. Once you realize that, it’s easier to let things pass.”
“B-but your just letting them get away with it?!”
She twitches, “I don’t let anyone get away with anything. Theirs more you can do in this world then resort to violence, Hermanito.”
“We’ll then what do you do?” He questions curiously.
“If it’s a small comment. I leave it be. Small comments aren’t worth my time. If it’s a bigger, crueler comment, I consider telling my mama. And she helps me decide if confronting said person would be worth it. And if it’s something malicious, with horrible intent. I tell the family. And we each pay them a little visit.”
Camilo remembers that now. Remembers how every once and a while he’d pull a prank on someone his sister said wronged them. He doesn’t know why they stopped.
As if reading their mind, Dolores answers them, “We stopped because you started. Why tell the familia, when your already getting your revenge.”
“Oh.”
It made sense. Logically. But their was still a question he hadn’t asked. One he couldn’t quite put together.
“Why…. W-why…”
“Why did you start fighting in the first place?” Their hermana finishes gently, “I can’t answer that for you Camilo. That’s something only you know. But I will sit here until you feel comfortable enough to tell me.”
It’s not to long until he spills his inner thoughts.
“It’s how I prove my worth.”
Dolores bristles, “How so?”
He sighs, “My gift isn’t as useful as Luisa’s, or Tia Julietas. I’m just Camilo. The practical jokester. My gift doesn’t help people really, besides letting them rest a bit, or hanging up some tall banner. At least this way, I could protect you in some way. My gift could protect you.”
They expect his sister to react again, maybe yell. But instead she just stares at them. With her ever loving wide eyes. Glossy with focus.
“I think your worth it… I think your worth everything. I know Mama does as well. And papa of course. So does Tonito. And Mirabel. Isabella and Luisa love you for you. And Abeula is proud to have you apart of the family. Don’t try and say I’m wrong. Remember. I can hear everything.”
He’s a bit confused, “What are you trying to say?”
She smiles softly, “That maybe, the only one who doesn’t think your worth it, is you:”
Oh.
Oh wow.
That certainly echoed through their mind. Bouncing around until it rested in his heart.
Had he been wrong this entire time. People actually loved their gift? Thought he had worth?
“Your worth everything,” Dolores whispers, “And I love you hermanito.”
For the first time in so long, Camilo feels whole inside.
Because they have worth. They are loved. They don’t have to get punched to feel important. They can just be themselves.
He is rendered exhausted, leaning into their sisters embrace as the epic conclusion sucks away his will to move.
“Thank you Dolores. Y yo a ti.”
She really deserves more then that. She’s managed to fix all his problems in a single conversation. It feels like they can’t thank her enough. For taking away the weight threatening to break him.
But he feels himself fading. Feels the tiredness deep into their bones and zap away his strength.
Dolores must feel the same way, as she nods toward her bed, and the two do a weak little crawl until their burrowed under the covers.
His sister rests her head on their chest, curling up like she always likes to do.
They just wrap an arm protectively. Leaning down and inhaling her calming scene of cinnamon and sunshine.
Their will be no fights tomorrow.
No rush to punch,
No blood shed.
Their will only be Love, and family, and feelings, and maybe a few tears.
But it’s a start.
Camilo will heal.
They will heal all their little wounds. Surrounded by the people who matter most.
And that’s all they could ask for.