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Setting the mirror down gently, Camilo wasted a few seconds making sure it was centred perfectly on the high vanity. While doing so, Camilo was met with a reflection that wasn’t his own, an event that was more common than not for the curly-haired boy. That didn’t stop Camilo from taking a moment to stop and stare at the image that should’ve been a foreign contempt.
Instead of being met with chestnut locks that bunched up in soft coils, dusty skin that was often home to dancing candlelight, or his signature yellow ruana with its darker yellow streaks that he was rarely caught without, Camilo came face to face with the head and body of his second oldest cousin Luisa.
Luisa with all of her broad shoulders and tightly pulled-back bun, her rounded chocolate eyes and puffy white sleeves, her deep blue skirts and sunkissed skin. It was a vast difference from what Camilo should’ve looked like, but despite the face in the mirror not being his own, he found himself more familiar with it.
He hadn’t known why he chose to shapeshift for this task. Sure, the mirror was heavy but it was nothing Camilo couldn’t handle. The platform it was supposed to be set on was around the same height as his shoulders but that didn’t mean Camilo couldn’t stretch his limbs out so he could reach the vanity’s edge.
So why had he shifted for a task that he could have just as easily completed as Camilo instead of Luisa?
Perhaps it was because it was all he was good for now. If he couldn’t change his appearance and take on the body of someone better than him in each and every way then there was nothing that Camilo was actually good for.
The thought made his body stop. His arm where it had been steadily reaching out towards the mirror froze where it stood, stuck midair and only millimetres from touching the mirror. With his fingertips ghosting over the reflective surface, connected to an arm that wasn’t his own, the realisation hit him harder than he could have ever imagined.
Against his will, as if the magic of the candle was revoking the power it had once bestowed on Camilo, his body began to change, restoring him to what Camilo thought he looked like. Back to what he should’ve looked like based on the framed photos that accompanied the walls of the Casita and portraits that had been drawn of him before his gift had taken a grip on him with an unrelenting hold.
Facing himself in the mirror, it was almost wrong. Left with nothing else to stare at but himself with no will to try and conjure up the energy to shapeshift into someone new, Camilo was left to take in his own features.
They looked wrong.
His features didn’t match up. They weren’t what he remembered.
For a few years now, Camilo had been aware of himself almost always using his gift to some extent. Perhaps when he was sleeping the effects washed away, but when he was awake and aware of his every move, it was hard to resist the chokehold his shapeshifting abilities had on him.
Maybe the freckles that once lined his cheeks were washed away. Maybe the coils of his hair were looser and not as short as they should be. Maybe his nose was more pointy so it could resemble his mother’s. Maybe what he was used to just wasn’t him.
The new version of himself, or the real version, seemed much softer. Easier on the eyes even. His skin was littered with tiny specs that were slightly darker than the colour of his skin. The coils of his hair were tighter, making way for more curls as they fell longer around his head. And just like many more features on his face, his nose resembled his fathers once again, showing off more of the normaler side of his family.
It wasn’t bad what he looked like. Camilo didn’t think he could ever necessarily look bad, no matter whose form he took on. Those words didn’t come from a place of vanity, more so of an understanding that the features he wore came from a place of love and creating. It was just strange to finally see himself in a stance unchanged.
Pulling his hand back from where it had been stuck midair, Camilo allowed his fingertips to meet his skin instead of smudging the mirror’s surface. As if expecting some sort of change, Camilo finished back at the first contact as if his own hand had struck him. But after a few seconds of squinted eyes and realising he was being silly over nothing, Camilo forced himself to relax again and bring his face closer to his hand again.
Camilo poked his freckles, stretched out his hair and watched it bounce back to its original shape, and even squash down his nose for a few seconds, getting familiar with it all once again. He didn’t hate it. But he couldn’t really stand to look at it for much longer either.
Turning around on his heel, he quickly pushed his way through the house he had been volunteered to help decorate. Rushing down the hallway of the house, everyone that Camilo passed was either too busy moving old things out of the house and bringing new items in for the holiday that was up and coming, or decorating the rooms that had been cleared out, giving Camilo the perfect opportunity to make a dash for it since everyone was already preoccupied to notice him leaving.
Once he made his way to the outside of the house, Camilo had to weave his way quickly through furniture that had been momentarily dumped on the side of the pathways, most likely waiting for Lusia to pass by and pick up some loads to take with her. Using a gift that was actually useful.
Scrambling forward, Camilo tried to go unnoticed by anyone working on setting up the house not that it was a large concern in his mind when he was doing the labour for free. That didn’t stop him from chancing a look over his shoulder to make sure his absence wouldn’t be missed as he made his way hastily back to Casita.
Just as Camilo thought he was about to make it home free, he went crashing into something solid while his attention was caught elsewhere, resulting in him going tumbling to the ground with a puff of pollen surrounding him. Looking up to find the source of his fall with a hand rubbing at his chest where he had first made impact, Camilo’s eyes landed on a lilac dress and olive skin.
Isabela stood looming over him, an almost smugness radiating off of her as she stared down at Camilo. A meter in front of her stood a large stem of flowers, enlarged to protect her from Camilo’s body before it slammed into hers. The prideful look slowly fell once she saw Camilo’s widened eyes and the permanently stunned gape that was taking over his features.
“What’s happened to you?” Isabela mused, dusting her dress off as if she had been knocked to the ground. Before Camilo could answer he was being pulled to his feet by some sort of floral plant wrapping itself under Camilo’s arms before being hardly tugged up. As Camilo was brought to his feet, it allowed Isabela to get a proper look at him, inspecting every minor detail as she leaned forward. “Your freckles are coming out now that it’s summer again.”
“What?” Camilo dumbly asked aloud, staring at Isabela like he didn’t know where he currently was. The statement had been so broad. His freckles were coming out again. Camilo had practically forgotten he had freckles so why was it his older cousin was able to notice the detail without much effort?
“Your freckles,” Isabela slowly spoke, eyeing Camilo softly with a small hint of amusement flooding her features. Out of all of her relatives, Camilo was one of the ones she interacted with the least, Antonio just behind him. Unless you counted Tío Bruno of course. “Your freckles tend to disappear in winter just like Tía Pepa’s, but it’s summer now so I’m not surprised they’re starting to make an appearance again.”
“My freckles?” Camilo questioned again, fighting the urge to reach up and grab onto them again.
“Yes, your freckles,” It seemed he didn’t need to worry about fighting it though as Isabela reached forward for him and pinched onto his cheeks for him, squeezing the skin and the soft spots that dusted it between her fingers. “I wish they were present all year round. They suit you.”
Camilo’s first instinct was to bat Isabela’s hand away from his face and whine about how she was treating him as if he was Antonio’s age. Instead, he bit down on his tongue for a few seconds and allowed himself to relish in the semi-praise. “I can make them stay all year round if you want.”
Isabela’s brows furrowed together at the offer, and lips pressed together as she took in the rest of Camilo’s features. His freckles weren’t the only thing she had noticed, they were just the first. She could see the small differences that made up his face and could pinpoint exactly what they were, she just wasn’t able to place a finger on why they had suddenly changed. That was until she remembered the gift Camilo had been granted with for most of his life.
“You don’t need to change anything,” Isabela waved him off, dismissing the idea as if it was silly. She was far too versed in making sure she looked her best at all moments to not notice the way Camilo instantly jumped to try and follow that path. “You're perfect with or without your freckles. They’re just a seasonal thing.”
“Perfect,” Camilo once again parroted Isabela’s words, the syllables sitting heavy on his tongue. “Seasonal.”
“How about we walk home together?” Isabela instead asked, rolling her eyes before linking her arm with Camilo’s without giving him any time to object. Camilo’s head snapped up towards her, his eyes distant as he played over her words in his head. “I think Mamá is going to start making dinner soon so if we’re quick we can try and sneak some away. Maybe she’ll go easy on us since it’ll be Christmas soon.”
“We’re gonna steal some extra food?” Camilo questioned, expression hopeful at the idea of successfully stealing some of Tía Julieta’s food. It was often that Camilo attempted to make a grab for some extra to feast on, and even more often that he was caught before he could even get close to the table. “You never steal extra food though.”
“I never get caught is what you mean,” Isabela grinned, as she began walking the two of them back. Her smile stayed present on her face as she felt Camilo rush to keep up with her, the younger boy almost vibrating in his skin at the thought of getting back to Casita. Perhaps sending Camilo flying to the floor hadn’t been too much of a bad idea. Or maybe she should just spend a bit more time with him. "There might be a thing or two you can learn from me when it comes to sneaking around Casita."