Hey all. Didn't mean for this chapter to take so long, sorry about that. Anyway, please enjoy!

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Camilo went about his day as usual.

He got up, got dressed, and ate Tía Julieta's breakfast. Just as he did every day.

Everyone else may be too caught up in their own guilt, but not him. He had nothing to dwell on.

Sure, their gifts were gone. And sure, Casita was missing its liveliness and energy. But so what? Did that mean he had to lock himself inside his room and mope about? Did that mean he had to spend every day of the rest of his life crying over the loss of Casita and their magic and-

Camilo took a walk to clear his head.

Since that day, the Encanto was... Well, the Encanto was dead. The small town had, just a week ago, been so lively and vibrant. Now, they moped- similarly to his family- and stumbled about as they tried to get used to life without the amazing Madrigals to wait on them hand and foot. it was like the happiness of the people had disappeared with the magic.

With Mira- No.

There was no use in clinging to the past. The magic was gone, the miracle was gone. Nothing could change it. He wouldn't torture himself, not like everyone else was.

He hadn't done anything wrong.

"Camilo, Camilo!"

Internally, Camilo groaned as a group of children rushed towards him. He recognized them as the ones who always followed Mira- the ones who always tailed after his cousin. Hyper little monsters. He tried to make a getaway, but the little mocosos were quick. All at once, they bombarded him.

"What happened to the magic?"

"Antonio just got his gift!"

"Is Casita okay?"

"I-Is Mirabel really gone?"

Camilo stilled at the mention of her name. 'Is Mirabel really gone?' Gone. She was, wasn't she? Mirabel wasn't just dead. The dead were still remembered and celebrated. Abuelo was dead. Abuelo's picture had hung over them as much as his legacy. His story was told by Abuela, a story they never forgot. Even Tío Bruno had loomed over them, over the town.

But Mirabel? They didn't have any of her things, they had been destroyed along with Casita. They hadn't recovered very many pictures either, not that his cousin had been in many of them anyway.

Mirabel was gone. Gone.

"Camilo?"

He was ripped out of his thoughts. The kids were looking up at him with wide-eyed innocence. An innocence Antonio used to have before Mirabel's death. Now his eyes were empty.

Why did he have to be the ones to do the same to these kids? It wasn't his responsibility!

'It wasn't my fault, wasn't my fault-'

Camilo steeled himself. "Ah, go play, chamacos," he said, shooing them away. They protested, but he managed to give them the slip. He wandered away from the town, so sick of how helpless they all seemed.

"How tiring," he muttered, annoyed. "To have to work for yourselves for once."

Surely, other places didn't have a magical family to rely on. If they hadn't been so dependent on his family, Abuela wouldn't have put so much pressure on them. She wouldn't have made them use their gifts all day every day. She wouldn't have-

Camilo swallowed the lump in his throat. She wouldn't have been so cruel to Mirabel.

He covered his ears, squeezing his eyes shut as he fell to the grass. 'Stop,' he willed himself. 'Stop thinking about her, stop it.'

"Camilo?"

His jaw clenched; he knew the voice of a child when he heard it. Had they really followed him all the way here? Those brats were persistent, he would give them that. Still, he wished they would just leave him alone; he wasn't in the mood to talk about his dead cousin.

His dead cousin. Her body was buried six feet underground. Dios mío, he was gonna be sick.

"Go away, kid," he snapped. He didn't dare look up at the child, afraid he would cry if he did. And how lame would that be?

"Camilo," insisted the kid. "Look at me."

"No," insisted Camilo stubbornly. What was with this kid? Did all children have a habit of being around at the worst times? "Get out of here."

"That isn't very nice, primo."

Camilo froze, the young voice suddenly sounding so familiar. 'No,' he thought. 'It's impossible.' He was not about to lift his head up and see his cousin. Mirabel's ghost was absolutely not haunting him. This wasn't happening.

"Camilo." The child sounded supremely exasperated this time. "You can deny it all you want. That's not gonna make me go away sooner."

Cursing under his breath, he finally lifted his head. Standing in front of him- messy curls, crooked glasses, and all- was his only younger cousin. Disregarding the fact that Mirabel's ghost absolutely was haunting him (seriously, why?), she was- for some reason- younger. Maybe a little older than Antonio.

Camilo stared at her for a long time. Mirabel stared back.

Then, "Dios mío, I don't think I've ever seen you so depressed." This was followed by a series of snickers from the young girl.

Camilo scowled. "Well, perdóname," he scoffed. "My cousin just died-" He snapped his mouth shut. Mirabel had no visible reaction to what he had just said, simply keeping her eyes on him.

He had never uttered those words out loud. Not to anyone in town, not to his family, and certainly not to himself. He had barely come to terms with it in his head. Saying it out loud made Camilo realize just how dire the situation was.

The Madrigals had no magic. The Madrigals had no Casita. But worse?

The Madrigals had no Mirabel.

But Mirabel was right in front of him, wasn't she? Maybe this was a good thing. Maybe this was one last gift from the miracle, to give them back their Mirabel.

To give him back his prima.

They could start over, couldn't they? Who cared if she didn't have magic, none of them did anymore. He could take her home- Tía Julieta would be so happy- and she could grow up again, but better this time. This time, he wouldn't leave her alone. He'd be right by her side to protect her from the town, from Abuela-

"Camilo," said Mirabel. Her face had sobered from its earlier amusement. She frowned at him. "Stop that."

He blinked. "Stop what?"

She crossed her little arms, glaring up at him from behind those crooked glasses. "I'm dead," she said firmly. "You can't pretend that I'm not."

Camilo winced as if she had actually struck him. "What?" he laughed nervously. "No, you're right here." He went to grab her hand. "Vamos, you're mamá will want to see you-"

His hand went right through her.

"Camilo," she said again. More stern, less patient. "Basta."

A flash of anger passed through him.

"You know, no one told you to go after that candle," he snapped. What was he saying? Hadn't the plan been to bring her home? Why was he yelling at her? "No one asked you to be a hero."

Mirabel met his gaze unflinchingly. "Someone had to be," she challenged.

His fingers curled into a fist. "Why are you even here?" he demanded. His nails dug into his palms and he couldn't remember a time he had felt such rage. Wasn't he supposed to be the one that let things roll off his back?

His cousin said nothing.

"Dammit, Mira, I'm sorry!" shouted Camilo. He lunged forward, his fingers surprisingly catching the hem of her skirt. "Is that what you wanted? An apology?"

She didn't respond.

"I'm sorry I didn't defend you from Abuela!" Where had that come from? "I'm sorry I didn't stop Isabela or the kids in school!"

Nothing.

Camilo gripped the fabric between his fingers tighter, his head falling against her as the fight suddenly left him. His next apology was little more than a whisper. "I'm sorry I abandoned you."

And there it was. The admission. The truth was, he had done something wrong. He had done a lot wrong. He hadn't stood up to Abuela or Isabela. He hadn't told off the kids in school that teased his cousin. He had stopped spending time with her after she hadn't received a gift.

When they were younger, they had been as thick as thieves. They were the same age, had spent the first five years of their life sharing the same room. Mirabel had, at one point, been his best friend.

And then she hadn't gotten a gift. Abuela shunned her. Isabela turned cruel. And Camilo hadn't known what to do.

He had been a foolish, selfish little kid. And the worst part? He couldn't even rectify his mistakes, couldn't reconnect with his cousin because she was dead.

It had never even crossed his mind to save the candle. It wasn't worth his or anyone's life. But Mirabel hadn't hesitated, sacrificing everything for something that had put her through years of isolation. For a family that had never acknowledged her worth.

And that was the difference between them. That was what made Mirabel a good person and Camilo a horrible one.

"Forgive me," he sobbed. When had he started crying?

Gentle fingers threaded through his curls as Mirabel lowered herself to the ground. His head was against her chest. "I was never upset with you to begin with, tonto," she told him. "Of course you're forgiven. But the real question is, do you forgive yourself?"

Camilo didn't answer, just held her as tight as he could. Because no, he didn't forgive himself. He never would. He was a coward. He had spent so much time helping others, but had ignored the person who really needed it. And now she was dead.

But he didn't tell Mirabel that. It was obvious that she really wanted him to and Camilo didn't want to disappoint her.

So instead he just held onto her until she eventually faded from his arms.

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Camilo is hard to write for. But for some reason, his chapter ended up being the longest one. Don't ask me how that happened. FIRST POST OF THE NEW YEAR LET'S GO. Anyway, I hope you liked it and please review!