ALEJANDRO
The midday sun scorches hot on our backs by the time we arrive at our next destination. A super small town from the looks of it, too. Only a few rows of tiny, brick houses. Some painted white. Others not painted anything at all.
A few people peek over at us from the shadow of their humid, open doorways. Watching. Whispering to anyone else present from their household.
Great.
We rushed all the way here for this? We'll be lucky if they have a decent inn at this place. Much less a stable.
I huff and struggle to hold in a groan.
Wiping an exhausted hand over my sweaty face, I glance back at Sofia and Camilo. Camilo's holding his hands out to help Sofia jump off the cart, a wide grin plastered on his elated expression that's been there all morning. As soon as she's off, the duos hands linger together a moment, until—with a giggle—they separate. Neither looking or smiling away from the other.
Ugh. Gross.
Look at them all giddy, without a care in the world together. It's so 'cute' I want to puke.
They must've figured everything out. That's the only explanation for their sudden lifted moods, compared to the day before.
Why did I help them and allow this to happen again?
Oh, yeah. Because I'm the best. The best big brother and matchmaker to ever live.
I heave a heavy sigh.
The fate of a noble hero really is a tough one.
Camilo cards a hand through his dark curls, still smiling at Sofia, who's playing with a strand of her hair repetitively at his side, as if it needs anymore attention.
I narrow my eyes at the two and put my hands on my hips. "Hey! If you two are done making googly eyes at each other yet, how about we split up in search of work? You know? The whole purpose of why we're here?"
Both Camilo and Sofia jolt and whip their heads toward me. Stiff as statues. Recognition clear in their wide, alarmed gazes that they've been caught doing their nonsense red-handed.
Dios, they're hopeless.
"Bruno and I will go take care of finding us a place to stay. You two . . . go scope out the rest of town or something." I wave them off, grabbing our donkey's reins with one hand while tugging Bruno's arm with the other.
"You're coming with me this time?" Bruno asks, stumbling behind me.
"Yeah. That a problem?" I let him go, so he can follow at his own pace, without me having to lug him and the donkey around.
He glimpses back at Camilo and Sofia over his shoulder, who've gone back to their giggling and fidgeting awkwardly in place. Because of course they have. "No! I'm just . . . surprised." He refocuses on me. Eyes wide. Lips quirking upward in a half, momentary, nervous chuckle.
If that laugh didn't make his meaning obvious, the accusation's clear in his tone.
He'd never thought to see the day when I'd willingly let the two run off, unaccompanied.
Neither did I.
For as long as I can remember, I've always been the one by Sofia's side. Ever since birth.
To not do so feels weird. Foreign. Wrong.
But it's like she said.
I need to start letting go. We're both almost adults now, and it's time we start creating our own separate lives. Even if her choice in traveling companions and boyfriends are questionable.
That last title prompts a nasty taste in my mouth, making me cringe.
"So am I," is all I can mutter as we trudge forward.
That taste still persisting, while I just have to try my best to ignore it.
CAMILO
People's chatter buzzes throughout the cool, shaded restaurant's busy background. None of it comprehensible since all my focus is directed on scanning the entirety of the short, handwritten menu.
My stomach growls merely considering the selective options.
What should I get?
Bandeija paisa?
Fritanga?
Empanadas?
Or-
Sofia pushes a hand down on top of my menu, lowering it to meet my gaze.
Her eyelids are half lowered, matching her unamused frown. The seriousness of it hinting that she must've been trying to talk to me, but I was too occupied reading to be listening.
"Oh. Sorry. What was that, mi vida?" I fixate on her, dropping the menu and giving her a warm, charming smile.
Sofia playfully rolls her eyes at me. "I swear, you and Al have such one track minds when it comes to food." She laughs.
"We can't help it! We're growing men! Food plays a crucial role in our development and happiness!"
"If you say so." She leans back in her seat with a shake of her head. Crossing her arms, she smirks, that teasing glint still glimmering in her sparkling, hazel depths. "What I was trying to say is we might not have a ton of luck finding work here. This is a small town, meaning less opportunities. So spend wisely."
"So . . . no endless tower of arepas?" I peek back down at the menu again, then raise an eyebrow at her.
Sofia throws her head back with a suppressed snicker and grin. Both of which I find infectious. Addicting.
I'd do just about anything to see and hear them again. Even the most ridiculous, embarrassing things.
"You two ready to order?" Our waiter walks back up to the side of our table.
Sofia smiles at the massive, burly man, who resembles more of a daunting personification of a mountain than even Luisa, with all his bulging muscles and thick, facial hair. "I think so. But before that, do you know of anywhere here looking for some temporary part-time workers, passing through town?"
"Hm." He furrows his stern brow and scratches at his dark, curly beard. "Well, the school could always use an extra hand or two, wrangling the kids. I could also use someone around here, cleaning and waiting tables, if you're interested."
"Sounds great!" Sofia claps. "Camilo here would love to help you out!"
She aims her cunning smile at me, the man's intimidating, observant stare quickly following.
I gulp and rub at the back of my neck, trying to mirror her enthusiastic expression as much as possible, under his domineering, watchful pressure.
Alright.
This wasn't what I had in mind for coming up with ways to make her—my girlfriend—smile.
But you know what they say.
Beggars can't be choosers.
The hours pass by quickly working at the restaurant.
Sofia ran off to the school right after we finished lunch. Since then, the owner, Duvan, hasn't said much, excluding a barked order here or there to get an order or wipe down a table.
Not that I'm complaining.
The man's a literal menacing giant. He could probably squash my head with one closed fist. Seriously!
If Mirabel thought my description of Bruno was scary, based on my little memory of our tio from our childhood, she'd be having nightmares for years trying to picture this guy.
So the less he talks to me the better.
Duvan walks out of the kitchen in the back at the moment.
His surprising, ill-timed entrance, causes me to flinch. I hurriedly stare down at the tile floor, fumbling with the broom in my hand before picking up the sweeping speed, trying to appear busy. Although, there's honestly nothing to get left.
Duvan heads to the far right corner of the room, picking up a wooden tiple, propped on a tall stool there. Turning around, he plops himself down on the seat, and lowering his head, starts strumming the cords. Tuning each string with continued test.
I watch the sight, mesmerized.
Partly because it's music, and I love music, in any shape or form.
But also because I never expected him to ever be the type to play, and he seems good at it, too.
The way the tiple's so relaxed in his arms, at ease, it's like he's it's home. His light grasp so natural and practiced it throws me through a loop trying to imagine a time when it wasn't.
Duvan stops his tuning and glances up at me. His cold scowl washes over me like frigid river water, and I go completely rigid.
"You know how to play?" he asks, staring me down.
"Me?" I stammer. "No!"
Duvan sits up straight. His bitter gaze: unrelenting. "Do you want to learn?"
Yes.
But . . .
"I . . . don't own a tiple?"
"You can have my old one," he says, putting his current one flat on his leg. "Now, come here." He waves me over.
I gawk at him for a second then step closer.
He tugs over another chair and offers me to take a seat. I do so, and he immediately hands me the tiple. The force of the pass has me grasping at it, in fear I might fumble and drop it.
Before I can even try to feel like I've regained a semblance of balance, Duvan positions it in my arms.
"Hold it like this," he demands, moving my hands gently across the strings. "Don't slouch." He smacks me hard in the center of my back, forcing me upright in one swift move.
I sit up as tall as I can manage, while still cradling the tiple in the position he's instructed.
"Good. It'll get more comfortable with time. Now try strumming the cords." He nods.
I glimpse up at him with wide, uncertain eyes, heart pounding. Then, with a nervous lick of my lips, I run my right hand down along the cords.
It's beautiful.
The melody it emits inspires a pleasant, electric shiver zipping down my spine.
I chuckle and smile at it, a fluttery, excited feeling tickling me to my core.
"You know how to read music?" Duvan asks, recapturing my attention, dampening the mood. Firm scowl still harsh on his face.
"No," I whisper. The word only barely slipping out.
"Then we'll start with the basics."
Sofia runs her fingers gently through my curls, while I lay my head in her lap and relay the details about my day.
She, Al, and I all sit strewn about on our small inn room's floor. Cramped close together because we have to, the size of the attic-sized bedroom not really granting the space otherwise. Al's shuffling through the beginner's music book Duvan gifted me to our left. Meanwhile, I balance his other gift—his true gift; his old tiple, now my tiple—in my arms. Cradling it like a child.
I go on and on about the free lesson he gave me after work, trying to convey how terrifying yet thrilling it was, between baited breaths.
Sofia smiles above me.
There's a tenderness to her eyes. Like she's both happy and amused.
I grin back at her and stop, realizing I might've been rambling too long in the excitement.
"How was work at the school?" I try to shift the subject to give her the chance to talk.
"Good." She nods. "The teacher told me I had a real knack for working with kids. She even let me help with their instruction." She beams at the reveal. Her face lighting up with such proud, glowing happiness, it warms my chest right up, like a comforting ray of sunlight.
I melt into the sensation. Content to bask in it.
Guess I wasn't the only one who had a good, successful day, and I grin for it.
Our inn room door clicks open.
Bruno steps in, carrying a stuffed paper bag in his arms.
"Oh, welcome back, Tio," Sofia greets him.
"Uh. Thanks." He smiles at her, eyeing my tiple for a moment, before using his foot to close the door. "How are you all doing? Hungry? I uh . . . got some groceries." He sets the bag down on the dresser and gestures to it with an elated wave. Still as awkward as ever.
"I think we should be asking how you're doing." Al rolls over to face him in his lounging position, a wide, smug sneer turning up his lips. "Don't act coy. I saw you with that lady in the marketplace earlier."
He points at Bruno accusingly.
"Lady?" I raise an eyebrow at him, then shift focus back to Bruno.
"Ah! Her?" Bruno jolts. "It-It was nothing." He rubs his arms. "I was just . . . helping her out. For work."
"Oh, Tio. I think you doth protest too much." I smirk at him, too, propping myself up on one elbow. "Do I have a new tia I don't know about? Hm?"
"Stop. Both of you." Sofia pulls me back down by the ear, head collapsing in her lap. "Leave him be."
She grins at him, then me, and with an audible snort, Al rolls his eyes and returns to his prior snooping through my music book.
Yeah, I chuckle inwardly, relaxing back into Sofia's resumed, soft caresses.
I'd say we've all had a good day.
I could get used to it, and I'd welcome many more to come.
For all of us.
SOFIA
It's still bright, cold, and early when we get up to leave the day of our departure from the village.
We ended up staying a whole week here. A lot longer than we originally intended. But honestly, we've done better for it.
On top of experiencing no problems at all this time—a surprise in and of its own—I think we've all gained something of greater value than the coin we've gathered from our short stay here.
Camilo's discovered an untapped passion for music and the tiple. Ever since his boss and mentor, Duvan, gave him one, he's been practicing nonstop until his fingers bleed or get sore. But even then, he's got his nose buried in music books. Fingers wrapped in bandages and all.
Bruno's started to warm up to people. He still possesses his loveable clumsiness I've known him for, that endearingness nowhere near gone, but he doesn't seem as on edge with strangers. Especially compared to back in the Encanto. I think the one woman he's been working with at the market, more so than others, is the main cause of that—the fact that I may have overseen her giving him her postal address, asking for him to send letters to his pleasant surprise, only fuels said suspicions further.
And Al? Al's been more considerate of my personal space than ever. Not once have I had to tell him to back off or felt him clinging to me excessively around every corner. It's allowed me to branch out, to work on my own. A first since we started our travels that now feels ages ago.
Through it, I got to work at the school. Something I'd always been interested in, but Al . . . Al's behavior and attention span never allowed it. Until now.
My heart fills to the brim thinking about it—about all the kids, how happy teaching and bonding with them made me feel.
I'd felt the same teaching Mirabel and Al in the past.
But this was on a whole new level.
I could see myself waking up, doing it every day.
While I ruminate over the delight that incites, in my seat in the back of our wagon, I notice Bruno and the boys all walk out of the inn.
"Got everything?" I ask, peeking down at them.
"Yep!" Camilo hops up and plops in his spot beside me.
He flashes me a slight grin, our shoulders pressed hard together. His inherent warmth seeps into me like a sun, dispelling any chill from the surrounding bitter cold. I lean my head against him, welcoming it, and he grabs my hand, entwining my fingers with his.
Al scoffs at us. "Let's head out." He lies back across from us.
"You got it," Bruno calls back with a gentle whip of the reins.
And then, we're moving forward.
A bright future rising on the horizon.
Authors Note: This is probably the calmest extra chapter out of the bunch. Mainly because I wanted to show more of their unique character growths from the main plot as they find themselves. I also needed a little less drama in my life right now, so the feel good atmosphere was appreciated lol.
I'll be moving next week, so next chapter may or may not come out next week or the week after. Thanks for your continued support (and sorry for the somewhat rushed writing of this. I'm a bit swamped with everything at home right now, but I wanted to try to get something out for you all, so you didn't have to wait too long! Hopefully it's decent lol)