A/N: What can I say, inspiration struck out of the blue, so I wrote this one-shot for all those who want more stories featuring interactions between Rivera family members who didn't get much screentime.

Disclaimer: "Coco" belongs to Pixar.

Enjoy!

Changes Aren't Always Awful

Rosa didn't want to admit it, she'd hoped it would go away, she'd assured herself it was only caused by her weariness. But no, the constant blur which had been fogging her eyesight for over a week refused to leave her alone. It caused her struggle in school, with homework and reading and her daily routine.

She had never thought of herself as a liar, she wasn't even good at distorting the truth, and she despised it anyway. Yet as she watched her papá's hands work deftly to create a new pair of wingtips, she couldn't help the increasing guilt in her chest. Was concealing the truth still considered lying? Very likely.

"Mija, can you give me the pliers?"

Rosa was awoken by the sudden request. Squinting, she searched through the toolkit laid onto the crafting table before finally spotting the outline of the pliers. She handed it to her father, whose frown she was barely able to make out. She flinched.

"Rosita, are you alright?" He was wearing that look parents had when they knew something was wrong with their child. The ten-year-old girl wasn't sure she loved or hated his concern at that moment.

"¡Sí, Papá!" she chirped as joyously as she mustered, despite the frustration inside her.

She left the workshop shortly after, unwilling to receive other confused or worried glances from Berto or the rest of her familia. She felt more than bad for lying, but they already had enough chores and shoes to make, she didn't wish to burden them further with something that still had chances to go away.

Something told her that it wouldn't.

Moreover, there was the rising fear that they'd scold her if they found out she'd been keeping a secret for more than a week. How would Abuelita handle her breaking one of her most important rules: never keep secrets from your family? She pushed the scenario out of her mind as Miguel's shout called her to play.

"Mija, I need to talk to you."

Her father's words made Rosa freeze. She didn't like it when his voice went gruff and serious, it always meant something important was going on. Usually, something that was the opposite of okay.

"Come on now. You'll play with Miguel later."

She left with him, meeting her cousin's puzzled look with her own fearful one. She had an idea where the conversation would be going.

They reached her bedroom, and Rosa gave in to the urge to hug a plush to her chest as she climbed onto the bed. Berto sat next to her.

"Rosa," he started, "I noticed you struggle to see lately. Am I right, mija?"

She wanted to shake her head, to deny, but she nodded nevertheless and gripped her wrist.

"Look at me!"

She raised her gaze. His scowl was gone, replaced by a softer countenance which alleviated some of her fright.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"Because I don't wanna wear glasses, Papá! Kids will laugh at me. I'll be ugly, I'll look like a weirdo! And I'll be the only one in our living family to need a pair of them!" she snapped in annoyance, tears hard to hold back pricking her eyes.

Berto squeezed her shoulder. "First off, if somebody ever makes fun of you, you come right to me or anyone else in the family and we'll deal with those nasty kids, okay? Secondly, didn't your Tía Victoria and Tíos Óscar and Felipe wear glasses too?"

Rosa nodded once more.

"Do you think they're ugly?"

She vehemently shook her head. "No! I like the way they look."

"Then what makes you believe you won't rock a pair of glasses?"

She snorted, rolling her eyes. "I am not them, Papá."

Berto squinted, a small sly smile tugging at his lips. He pulled his daughter into a tight embrace and tickled her. Rosa burst into a fit of giggles, but his grip was too strong to escape from.

"You may not be them, mariposita," he spoke once he stopped to let her breathe, "but that doesn't mean the glasses won't look good on you. Trust me, they will."

"How do you know?" She smirked.

"Papás know everything." He kissed her cheek lovingly, causing her to titter again.

"Something I don't like, though, mija," Berto held her at arm's length and searched her eyes, "is that you lied to us."

The girl went silent, her eyes downcast in shame.

"I'm asking you again: why didn't you tell us?"

"Because I was afraid." - Her father seemed taken aback. - "I knew hiding was wrong, but at first, I only thought that I was tired, so my eyes hurt, and I hoped it would pass. But by the time I realized it wasn't gonna go away, it had already been more than a few days. I didn't want you to tell me off, so I kept the secret. I still considered talking to you, though. I'm really sorry, Papá." She gazed at him in hopes that he'd believe her genuine apology.

Her father was quiet for a minute, and she dreaded his response.

"What you did is not alright, mija. Your condition could have worsened had you kept silent about it." He sighed. "And you shouldn't be scared of us. We only want what's best for you."

The immense pain in his stare hurt Rosa more than she'd anticipated. She hugged him as tightly as she could.

"I wasn't really frightened of you. More of your reaction, actually."

He rubbed her back. "Did we do something to frighten you, Rosita? Did I somehow hurt you and I don't know it?"

"No, Papá! You didn't do anything wrong. I just didn't wish to disappoint you with my mistakes." She nuzzled into his shirt. The next words were hard to utter. "Will you punish me?"

"No, querida. Although I'm not happy with your decision, let's get over this and go to the ophthalmologist, okay?"

Rosa didn't like the suggestion, but she had to comply for the sake of her health, which was the most important thing.

Three days later, she received her brand-new pair of spectacles. She'd chosen the oval-shaped frames because of their red-pinkish colour. She didn't want to admit it, but they were kind of cute.

When she put them on, the world became wonderfully clear. She mustered up the courage to look at her reflection, hoping with all her might that she would at least like the girl she'd see.

It was more than liking. She had a feeling that the glasses actually adorned her face, giving it a little extra, similar to the cherry on top of the cake.

Long story short, Rosa discovered that she loved them, and not just because she was finally able to see as clearly as before.

Her familia, mainly her parents and abuelita, praised her new appearance and frequently reminded her how special she was and how much she meant to them all.

"Glasses or no glasses, you'll always be our little Rosita." Berto didn't fail to hearten, but his daughter was already at peace with the thought.

Even though Abel sometimes relished teasing her by stealing her glasses (a habit he outgrew as they got older), she learned to laugh along instead of being annoyed by his silliness before playfully shoving him. "You could become just like me, hermano. And you wouldn't even see it coming." She loved to joke every time his mischievousness got the better of him.

She found out that her nearsightedness was likely genetic, as there hadn't been any external factors to cause it. Rosa and Miguel sometimes pondered who she had to thank for it: Elena's sister or Mamá Imelda's brothers. As years passed and she got used to her glasses, Miguel inclined to believe that Tía Victoria was "the one responsible", especially after he'd returned from the Land of the Dead, thus was able to notice the similarities between his cousin and their great-aunt; the way Rosa and Victoria glanced at people over the frames in particular was the detail which stood out the most.

Rosa wasn't the only one who found her new look interesting. Her friends also complimented her, to her astonishment, praising that the glasses "made her eyes more noticeable". She wasn't sure whether to believe their words or not, but she didn't argue either.

When she was older, one of her new classmates pointed out something not-so-nice about her spectacles and how they made her look, but she just smiled and said: "Thanks! I think I got my eyesight from my Tía Victoria. I love myself just the way I am; you should learn to love yourself too."

And she left with a spring in her step and a gleam in her eye.

A/N: Thanks for reading!

So that's my headcanon for how Rosa started wearing glasses. In this fic, I wanted to focus on her and Berto's relationship, as the two of them do not have any interactions in the movie, but I'm sure Berto is a very supportive father. Maybe a little stern sometimes, but that's only because he cares about his family. And I added that canon detail from the novelization that he calls his daughter "Rosita", which I find adorable. Also, I like to think that his hugs are similar to Tía Rosita's. And I personally see a lot of Victoria in Rosa.

What do you think? Reviews would be well-received!