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justanisabelakinnie · 2 years

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August 31

My fic dedicated to the primas-hermanas, for Dolores’ birthday(and Isabela’s since I didn’t publish one for her birthday, whoops, sorry ‘bout that)! Happy birthday, girls!

Also lesbian Isabela and t4t Pepa and Felix because I say so.

It was the middle of the night, and everyone in La Casa Madrigal was quiet and asleep.

All except for little Isabela.

The tiny little girl opened her eyes and was greeted with the sight of a dark ceiling, with lights adorning it to make it resemble the night sky.

But she was more excited for the day that was ahead of her. Remembrance hitting her like a comet, she leapt out of bed and nearly pounced on the bed next to her, her twin sister grunting in irritation mid-slumber.

“Dolores! Dolores! Dolores! Mi hermana! Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!”

Dolores grumbled as she kicked Isabela off the bed. Isabela sighed. How was she going to get her sister to wake up?

Grinning mischievously, she had an idea. It was so obvious, why hadn’t she thought of it before?

She wobbled to her feet and crept onto her tippy-toes. Leaning her face towards the pillow that her adorable sister’s head was leaning on, she whispered the three special words into her ear.

“It’s our birthday.”

And just like that, Dolores’ eyes flew open.

Pepa yawned, letting the natural sunlight peek through her windows and illuminate the walls. She stretched as she rolled around on her magical cloud, and turned onto her side to see her handsome husband, still fast asleep. Smiling, she reached to wrap her arms around him, pursing her lips and going in for a kiss.

“MAMI! PAPI!”

“TÍA! TÍO!”

“IT’S OUR BIRTHDAY!!!”

Pepa cried out in shock, the cloud underneath her and her husband disappearing as they both collapsed to the floor. Hissing and uttering curse words that she hoped her daughter and sobrina didn’t hear, Felix murmured something as he turned to and fro on the cold hard ground, before rubbing his eyes and reluctantly rising up.

“What…” he groaned, yawning. Pepa found it utterly adorable, of course, but there were more pressing issues at the matter, such as punishing these kids.

She got up, storming over to the children—quite literally, as well—and towered over them, glaring downwards as she did so. “What on Earth do you think you’re doing, waking us up at this ungodly hour? Don’t you have any sense of resp—“

But Isabela and Dolores weren’t listening, and instead giggled and ran away, holding hands to disturb the other adults, forcing them to wake up.

“¡CHICAS! COME BACK HERE AT ONCE!!!”

Felix felt around for the cloud, which had already long evaporated. Sighing as he got up and adjusted his pajama bottom, he moved to stand by his wife’s side. “It’s their birthday, mi amor,” he explained gently.

“I heard that much. But that is nonetheless no excuse for—wait. Isabela’s birthday was on the seventh?”

“They decided they want to celebrate their birthdays on the same date from now on. And it makes sense for it to be Dolores’ since she is younger…and now, they are both three.” He placed a hand on Pepa’s shoulder. “They are children, mi vida. Just like you and I were once. Let them at it. Let them have their birthday fun.”

“Oh,” Pepa sighed. “I suppose they can have it. But quietly.”

“Oh, congratulations!” Pepa heard her sister Julieta sing from outside.

“It’s your birthday!!!” Agustín chimed in. “Happy birthday girls!”

Pepa walked over to the open door and was distraught to see that Isabela and Dolores had already roped Julieta and Agustín into the early morning festivities. Isabela and Dolores were whooping and cheering with their hands thrown up into the air as if they were queens of the world, and they had a right to do so as they were perched on top of Isabela’s parents shoulders, Isabela riding on Julieta and Dolores riding on Agustín, as both adults kept them secure by clutching their ankles.

Just great. What was it gonna take for Pepa to get some peace and quiet around here?

“It’s our birthday!” The girls yelled for the thousandth time, giggling and cheering. “We’re three!!!”

“Woohoo!” The adults cheered.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, Bruno came out of his room rubbing his eyes. Pepa giggled at the mere sight of him, still wearing his green pajamas and clutching a stuffed rat like a kid. Fortunately, her little brother didn’t hear her. “What’s with all the ruckus?!”

“Tío Bruno, it’s our birthday!” Dolores cheered.

“Woah, is that true?” Bruno exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. “Happy birthday, chiquitas!”

The cool-colored adults at last put the three-year-olds down so that they could hug their other Tío. And also so that they could give their shoulders a break. Who knew carrying around toddlers was so much work?

“I can’t wait for the parties and the fun and the singing and the cake and the—hey!”

Dolores panicked as the runny egg ran from her forehead down her nose and onto her chin, before landing on her blouse and deciding to leave a stain there. Then she burst into tears.

“Oops!” Bruno giggled. “Colombian birthday tradition!”

Dolores merely cried and ran away. Isabela wanted to call after her, to make her feel better. But then she realized something: that Bruno was holding another egg.

Bruno noticed her panicked stare and smiled. “Yes, you got that right. You know what’s coming to you, don’t you, sobrina?”

Isabela squealed and ran away, giggling.

“DON’T YOU?” Bruno took off after her.

“HELP! I don’t want that to happen to me!” Isabela screamed before running away.

Pepa sighed, face planting onto the door. Parenting was hard work. But as long as the girls were having fun, it was worth it.

Isabela was lucky. She got the hard-boiled egg.

“It’s our birthday, Juana!” Isabela excitedly chirped towards their friend as she and her prima clutched each other closely, smiling and overcome with giggling girlish glee.

Juana frowned at the two, and looked at them skeptically. “What do you mean it’s your birthday? It’s only Dolores’ birthday. You turned three on August seventh.”

“Yeah but I didn’t celebrate it then! I wanna celebrate it with mi hermana!”

“I thought Dolores was your prima!”

“Umm…”

“We’re both!” Dolores supported.

“Yeah, we’re primas-hermanas!” Isabela added on.

“Oh. All right.” Juana shrugged, secretly kicking herself for not having come up with such a clever term herself. To save face, she added. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you two don’t have the same birthday, and never will. So there.” She flipped her hair and walked away.

Dolores turned to Isabela, who looked sad, and tried desperately to cheer her up. “Hey, don’t sweat it! We can celebrate our birthday however and whenever we want! Do we care what Juana says?”

“No,” Isabela said, sniffling as she wiped back tears.

“Exactly! She can’t tell us what to do, she’s not our Mami. As a matter of fact, not even Mami and Tía can tell us when and when not to celebrate our birthday. Now come on, forget about Juana. Let’s go and—“

“All right, chiquitos, it’s nap time now!”

Dolores sighed. “I was gonna say let’s go and color, but oh well.”

The primas-hermanas went to get their sleeping bags from the closet. Dolores’ was red and Isabela’s was pink.

“Huh, I can’t find my sleeping bag,” Isabela said with a frown.

Dolores spread out her sleeping bag on the floor. “Why not?”

“I don’t know.” Isabela stepped over Dolores and looked for her sleeping bag. But everyone else was snug and asleep, that or they were crawling into their bags, snuggling with each other, and playing hand-games in secret. One girl waved at Isabela, and she waved back.

Then she noticed her sleeping bag. She ran to go get it, pulling it off of the floor and towards her. But she soon realized that her sleeping bag was a little bit…heavier than it should be.

Juana popped her head out of the sleeping bag, giving Isabela a look that Isabela did not like at all.

Isabela glared. “Juana! Give me back my sleeping bag ahora!”

But Juana merely stuck out her tongue at Isabela, before crawling right back under the sheets.

Isabela began to cry. “I want my sleeping bag back, Juana! Now!”

But Juana continued “sleeping”.

And so Isabela continued wailing and stomping her feet, throwing a temper tantrum that soon got the attention of both the students and the teacher alike.

The children merely hissed at Isabela. “Will she ever shut up?” Said the same girl who had waved at her earlier.

Meanwhile, the teacher ran towards the two girls. “What is going on here?”

Isabela wiped her tears and sniffled, but she still couldn’t help but cry. “J-J-J—“

“Isabela, I can’t hear you through the crying. Speak coherently, please.”

“Juana stole my sleeping bag!” Isabela hollered at last, throwing herself down on the floor as she sobbed. “And she said that me and Dolores don’t have the same birthday and she said that me and Dolores aren’t really sisters! I hate her!”

“That’s not true! I never said that!” Juana adamantly defended. “Well, I did say the first part. Because it’s true. But I didn’t say the last part!”

But the teacher wasn’t listening. “Juana. Get out of Isabela’s sleeping bag. Now.”

Juana looked to the ceiling, thinking it over. Then she made a decision. “No.”

Isabela sobbed louder.

“E-excuse me?”

“I said no. Did you not hear me the first time?” Juana grinned.

“Señorita, I am not playing! Get out of there at once!”

“I’m not scared of you, maestra!” Juana sneered disrespectfully. “You’re just a lame old teacher lady who doesn’t know anything! You don’t even have a husband! Or a wife! Or a cat. Cats are my favorite animals. Anyway, I’m staying here, whether you and Isabela like it or not.” She covered her head with the sleeping bag and flipped down. “Sorry, Isabela. Happy birthday.”

“THAT’S NOT FAIR!!!” Isabela cried out, as her classmates slowly became even more irritable. One boy even began cracking his knuckles.

But Dolores cared for her prima-hermana. “Umm, Señora?” She spoke up. “Isabela can share a sleeping bag with me!”

The teacher turned to look at her. “That would be excellent, Dolores. Thank you!” She took Isabela’s hand and walked her towards Dolores’ sleeping bag. “See, class? This is why we have to share!”

“I’ll share my fists with Isabela’s face,” the boy mumbled.

“What did you say, Jalen?” The teacher demanded to know.

“N-nothing…” Jalen stammered, flustered. “Nothing at all.”

“Good.”

Isabela crawled under Dolores sleeping bag, hugging her prima-hermana tightly. It was cramped and congested, but she didn’t mind because it let her be closer to Dolores.

“Feeling comfortable, Isa?” Dolores asked.

“Yup! Thanks for letting me share, Lola. You’re the bestest sister ever!”

Dolores hummed. “You’re welcome. Night.”

“Good night.” They both snuggled close to each other and fell asleep.

Three years later, they were six. Isabela and Dolores hadn’t celebrated their birthday at the same time last year. By that was only because it was their gift ceremony. Isabela grew flowers that swelled the entire Casita with a sweet and fresh aroma and bedazzled the entire town. Dolores’ gift ceremony was just as beautiful, she saw the sight of her door in all its glowing glory, and heard the amazed sounds of everyone cheering and clapping for her. It grew to be a little loud, however, but the audience got the hint, and so they clapped quietly. But to Dolores it was like a standing ovation.

Her room wasn’t as glamorous as Isabela’s room, but it was warmer and much comfier. They spent the night snuggled under Dolores’ sheets—just as they had done in Isabela’s room on her ceremony day—as Dolores excitedly told Isabela of all the people she could hear talking excitedly about how happy they were for the younger prima-hermana when she received her gift. It was a night to remember, and Isabela hadn’t wanted to ruin Dolores’ birthday by stealing the spotlight. So they let this year be the exception to the norm, but they promised that they would celebrate it again next year.

And before long, next year came.

Dolores’ dad hadn’t been as energetic and up to playing make-believe with his hija and sobrina as he used to be before. In the past months, he had been drowsy, unalert, inattentive, and had weird cravings for specific foods. It pained Dolores to see her father like this, just like it pained her to hear her father bent over the toilet and vomiting as Mami and Tía soothed him—she realized pretty quickly that her gift had its tribulations. Though she fortunately only heard this once as she would always go into her soundproof room when she heard his feet stumbling towards the bathroom.

But all that dulled in comparison to the tiniest heartbeat that could be heard inside Felix’s stomach. She was confused at first, but she realized pretty quickly: Felix was with child.

The news made her whoop and run about with glee! She was going to be a big sister! She was going to have a little bundle of adorable joy to hug and coddle and play with and tell what to do and she was going to love that little baby till the ends of the earth! She hoped the baby would be a girl, because she would love a younger sister!

Unfortunately for her, the baby was not a girl. According to Julieta, the baby was a little boy—a boy her mother and father named Camilo. And that made Dolores upset. Mad, even. ThI temper tantrum she threw was truly a sight to behold. But eventually she grew to love Camilo. And she didn’t miss the opportunity to sleep in the nursery with him as often as she could.

When no one was up, she snuck over to Camilo’s cradle, picked up the yellow-wrapped bundle of joy, and carried him safely over to her bed, where she snuggled with him tightly.

“Te amo, Camilo,” six-year-old Dolores soothed.

Camilo giggled, his hands reaching for Dolores’ face. She tickled his lips tenderly with her pointer finger. A bad idea. Camilo grabbed Dolores’ pointer finger with both hands excitedly, his eyes zoning in on it, and started sucking.

“Cumpleaños feliz, te deseamos a tí, Feliz cumpleaños a las primas, feliz cumpleaños a tí! Que los cumpla feliz, que los vuelva a cumplir, que los siga cumpliendo, hasta el año tres mil!”

The primas-hermanas looked excitedly at the towering cake making its way towards them as Bruno gently placed it down. Julieta and Agustin held each other lovingly, as Julieta gently cradled a sleeping baby Mirabel, little Luisa clinging to Agustin’s hand. Felix and Pepa smiled as well as they took turns holding their baby. Dolores didn’t even mind that the baby kept crying non-stop. Well, she did mind. But that wouldn’t stop her from having her fun!

Okay, maybe she minded a little more than she liked. To everybody else, the crying was merely annoying. But to Dolores, it was the sound of an alarm being set off.

And she hated it. So much.

“Uh oh, I think I’m gonna sneeze on the cake!” Bruno joked. “Ah-ah—“

“No!” Isabela and Dolores cried out, as Alma chuckled and held Bruno back.

“Make a wish, my lovely princesas.”

“And hurry!” Bruno piped up.

Dolores and Isabela closed their eyes as they excitedly blew out their birthday cake.

And silently they wished to always be close to each other, and to always celebrate their birthday together, forever and ever and ever.

(Dolores also wished for Camilo to shut his mouth for once.)

“Yay!” Everybody clapped, cheering, as Bruno rubbed his nose.

“I don’t feel like sneezing anymore,” he quipped.

Even Camilo stopped sobbing and giggled and clapped his hands with the rest of the family! It was utterly adorable to watch!

“Awww!” Dolores squeed. “Birthday wishes really do come true! I wished for Camilo to stop crying, and he did!”

“Oh,” Agustin uttered, interested.

A moment of silence fell over la Casa Madrigal before Camilo started crying again.

“Crap.” Dolores sighed.

And that’s how she learned that when you make a wish and say it out loud, it won’t come true.

Two years later, the primas-hermanas buzzed about the house with joy. They were turning nine soon, and they could hardly wait.

“Isabela!” Dolores squealed. “Our birthday is coming up again! Can you believe it?”

“I can! I can’t wait, mi prima-hermana!” Isabela gave her a thumbs up.

Alma buried her head in her hands. “Do they have to do this?” she asked Julieta. “Celebrate their birthday together every year, I mean.”

“Leave them to it, Mami, it’s what they want to do,” her eldest daughter defended. “They probably see how their parents and Tío are triplets and want to emulate that. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mirabel and Camilo did the same.”

“Catch me if you can, Cami!” Mirabel yelled as she ran away from Camilo.

“Stop right there, you thief!” Camilo screeched. “Don’t you know that robbing someone’s home is against the rules?”

“It’s not against the rules if you’re pretty!” Mirabel beamed, batting her eyes. Before sticking out her tongue at Camilo and running away.”

Alma sighed and reluctantly nodded. “I suppose so. They’re children. And kids will be kids. I suppose I should just let them be.”

But in a year, Alma would eventually break that promise. And in doing so, she would break both of the primas-hermanas’ hearts.

Even though it was both of their birthdays, Isabela and Dolores made sure to get each other gifts as well, as they always had. Isabela was ecstatic to open her present and see the gift that she had received: a pair of pink pearl earrings. It was small, but it was invaluable. And it meant a lot to Isabela.

“I’ll help you put them on!” Dolores offered, gently taking the earrings from Isabela and putting them in each ear.

Isabela examined herself in the nearby mirror. “I love it!” She squealed. “They look beautiful!”

“I knew you would!”

Isabela wrapped Dolores in a hug, giving her kisses all over her face. “Thank you so much, Lolita! Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you! I’ll never take them off.”

“Ick,” Camilo said.

“You’re welcome,” Dolores giggled, lightly shoving her off.

“I have a gift for you too!” Isabela excitedly handed her the gift, beaming energetically and barely able to contain her excitement. “Open open open it!”

“Okay!” Dolores took the gift quickly, worrying that Isabela might open it herself in an eager frenzy. Carefully unwrapping it, she looked inside to see…earmuffs.

“E-earmuffs?”

“And not just any earmuffs either!” Isabela perked up. “Noice-cancellation ones! So that if ever the noise around you gets too loud, you can just wear these! Isn’t it awesome! Aren’t I the loveliest sister?”

“Of course!” Dolores put them on. “I love them! Wow, I feel less strain on my ears already!”

“Yay!” Isabela basically pounced on Dolores with a hug. “You’re my best friend, Dolores! Mmmm-hmmm!” She squeezed tighter.

“Thanks Isabela, and you’re mine! And thanks for the gift!” She kissed Isabela’s head. “I’m so glad to have a sister like you.”

They then went on with the festivities, partying and eating and drinking and dancing.

Camilo turned to Mirabel, who was eating a slice of cake with her bare hands, an idea forming in his head as he beamed at her. “We should do that too!”

“Do what?” Mirabel asked.

“Celebrate our birthdays on the same date, I mean! Duh!” Camilo grinned. “So whaddaya say?”

“But we don’t have the same birthday?” Mirabel was confused.

“Yeah and neither do Isabela and Lola.”

“Wait—they don’t?”

“No, they don’t! Didn’t you know that already?”

“I can’t believe it!” Mirabel virtually hollered. “I can’t believe Isabela and Dolores don’t have the same birthday!”

“So do you want to do it like them?”

“No…I want to celebrate my birthday on my own.”

“Oh.” Camilo said nothing else, slowly starting to shed tears.

“I can’t believe Isabela and Dolores don’t share the same birthday!” Mirabel gasped, for some reason upset at this new revelation. She got up and ran up to Mami and Tía Pepa, her cake falling from her dress and onto the floor ad she grabbed at Julieta’s dress with frosting-stained fingers. “Mami Mami Mami! Did you know that Isabela and Dolores don’t share the same birthday?! That’s really sad!”

“Yes it is, now clean up your mess, bebita.” Julieta demanded.

Mirabel pouted. “Camilo, can you help me clean it up please?”

Camilo sighed. “Fine.”

Meanwhile, Isabela and Dolores danced excitedly in their dresses, twirling around as their family clapped and cheered along. They were wearing matching dresses, except that Isabela’s was lavender and Dolores’ was yellow.

When they were done, they received a round of applause as they held hands and curtsied.

They hugged each other.

“This is the best birthday ever!” Isabela giggled.

“Yeah,” Dolores agreed. “I hope we keep celebrating them together no matter how old we are!”

“Yeah!” Isabela said.

But their tenth birthday rolled around, and a few weeks prior Dolores found herself with a crippling headache. Unfortunately for her, Julieta was sick too, and so she was forced to stay in her room for weeks on end until the headache went away. Fortunately, Isabela, Mirabel, and Camilo were there to keep her company.

On the day her headache healed, it was August 7th. Which was a normal, non-celebratory day in the Madrigal household.

Or so Dolores thought.

When she walked down the stairs that morning, she was surprised to see everybody sitting around Isabela and celebrating HER birthday!

Dolores watched in horror as everyone else in the family sang happy birthday to Isabela, even Camilo, Mirabel, and Luisa sang along! Camilo even stood on his tippy-toes to give Isabela a birthday kiss.

“¡Feliz cumpleaños, Isa!” Camilo squealed in his high-pitched, four-year-old voice.

Isabela smiled and giggled as she grabbed up the little boy and hugged him. “Thank you, Camilo!” She reciprocated. “You are my favorite primito! I am so glad to be celebrating my birthday today! All on my own!”

“Woohoo!” The family cheered.

Dolores watched in horror as the abominable sight before her unfolded. Her familia was right there, watching Isabela blow out her birthday cake candles and bestowing her with gifts and treasures as if Dolores wasn’t there. And Isabela was busy smiling along as if she didn’t have a care in the world, didn’t remember who she was really supposed to share her birthday party with.

She covered her ears, raised her head to the sky, and screamed. She screamed her heart out, she screamed until her voice was hoarse, but nobody heard or listened.

And then she woke up.

“Phew,” Dolores whispered to herself. “It was only a dream. Hmmm, let’s check and see what day it is.” She went to the calendar and checked the date. Sure enough, it was August 7th.

She got dressed, went to the bathroom, and then went downstairs. And it was then when she noticed the singing white noise in her ears and what it actually was.

The family surrounded Isabela as she sat at the head of the table, which was usually Abuela’s spot, as they sang happy birthday to her. Abuela was carrying a cake, and she placed it on the table in front of her nieta.

When they were all done singing, they clapped and cheered.

Alma gently placed her hands on Isabela’s shoulders and kissed her affectionately on the cheek. “Happy birthday, mi flor,” she hummed delicately.

Camilo skittered up to Isabela’s side and grabbed hold of the chair for dear life. Lifting himself on it before getting on his tippy toes, he planted a kiss on Isabela’s cheek. “¡Feliz cumpleaños, Isa!” he squealed. “¡Te amo mucho mucho mucho!”

Isabela smiled as she hugged him. “Gracias, chiquito. Eres mi primito favorito.”

“Yay!” Camilo cheered.

Dolores watched in horror. She couldn’t believe it! It was just like in her dream, only worse because it was real! Somehow, the entire family had organized a birthday party for Isabela without Dolores being aware, all because she was in her stupid soundproof room, bedridden. She no longer trusted this family.

The only thing different about real life from the dream was Isabela’s face. She looked much more sad and downtrodden then she had the previous birthdays. And yet that didn’t stop her from smiling along with the rest of the family and beaming at every gift she received, never looking at Dolores even once. It was like she knew how guilty she ought to be, but couldn’t bring herself to care!

Well then, Dolores didn’t care either! She stomped angrily upstairs, slamming the door behind her, and threw herself onto the bed and under the sickness-infested covers.

Then she cried until her eyes were sore and she fell asleep.

Isabela knocked on her door later in the middle of the night. “Dolores?” She offered. “Dolores, I’m sorry. Can I please come in?”

Dolores groggily rubbed her eyes, having barely gotten any sleep in the past few hours. Who could be knocking on her door at this ungodly time?

Then the door opened, and she was furious when she saw who it is.

“Hey Dolores, I’m sorry about today, but on the bright side we can still celebrate—“

“NO!” Dolores argued, yelling at Isa as she shoved her, rejecting her hug. “How could you do that to me? How could you betray me?! I hate you!”

Isabela’s eyes were wide as saucers, and for a second there she almost looked innocent.

“Lola, I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not! How could you do this to me? How? HOW?! We were supposed to celebrate our birthdays together! Just like twins! But instead—“

“I-I didn’t know either!” Isabela exclaimed. “It was a surprise for me too! And trust me when I say that I wasn’t happy about it. Because if I did know, I wouldn’t have supported it!”

But Dolores didn’t believe her. She burst into tears. “I thought you were my best friend! I thought you were my sister! But now I see that you are no sister of mine!” She exclaimed as she opened the door. “I don’t want to see you anymore. I’m mad and I’m tired. Go!”

She shoved Isabela out the door and slammed it in her face. Before stomping over to her bed, flopping down onto it, and hugging her stuffed rabbit tightly as she tried her best not to cry.

She failed.

Meanwhile, Isabela walked away to her room, also feeling the tears swell up inside her chest as she was wracked with guilt that she didn’t even deserve to feel. She wished she had spoken up, she wished she had said something. But all she did was smile uselessly and cutely, like a passive little doll. And little did she know that this wouldn’t be the first time she was forced to behave like this. Oh no, this was only the beginning.

Dolores’ birthday came soon enough, of course. It was a quiet event with very little music and noise. The only thing it had in common with Isabela’s was her little cousin kissing her on the cheek(Mirabel). And she didn’t speak a word to her prima-hermana throughout.

Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen. Isabela and Dolores had stopped celebrating their birthdays on the same date.

They stopped doing a lot of things together, in fact. Stopped sleeping in the same room, stopped pretending to be princesses, stopped braiding each other’s hair, stopped being best friends.

Now, Dolores was cast off to the side as Isabela got all the glamorous extravagant splendor for her birthday, while Dolores’ was much more mellow.

Abuela said it was because of their gifts. And of course, gifts mattered most, even more so than the people who had them. And nobody dared deny this.

But Dolores called bullshit. She knew the real reason this was happening, because she saw and heard it with her own eyes.

Heard Isabela get lessons in how to be “perfect” in being the prissy elegant princess that everyone admired. How to walk, talk, sit, look, speak, and act like the world was all your own. How to command all attention to yourself like you were the most important person in the room at any given time. And Isabela was doing a good job at picking up what Abuela was putting down.

What did Dolores learn, you ask? She learned to stay on the sidelines, to be content with being ignored, to stay out of harm’s way. She didn’t learn this directly, of course. She learned this indirectly, from watching how Abuela spoiled Isabela with affection and praise and dismissed Dolores. Because obviously Abuela couldn’t be bothered to waste her time teaching someone like Dolores anything.

On Isabela’s birthday, the sky would be filled with flower petals of all kinds as Isabela twirled and spun—just as she and Dolores used to do together, only alone—ever the center of attention, ever the precious golden flower. Her smile lit up the Casita as she wooed those around her with a swish of her skirt, a flick of her hair, and a sprout of flowers.

Dolores’ birthday, on the other hand, was much quieter and much less extravagant. Although her family still put in just as much effort to making sure she was satisfied and happy, hers wasn’t as bright and showy as Isabela’s was. Even on her birthday Dolores had to be reminded that she paled in comparison to Isabela.

And that made the lessons hurt a lot more.

Still, Dolores guessed there was some hope for her and her prima-hermana’s relationship. Some chance that they could rekindle the fire that had been put out. And the world had to be stupid to think she wouldn’t at least try.

Fifteen was coming up. Their quinceañera.

And Dolores was nervous to ask Isabela, but deep down she was excited as well. She braced herself to be told no, but hopefully that wouldn’t happen.

“Isabela?” She walked over to her sister, who was busy making bouquets of flowers. Ugh.

Isabela looked up at the sound of her name, and instantly perked up when she saw Dolores! “Hey, mi prima-hermana! What’s up?”

Dolores willed herself not to wince at the useless addition of “hermana” to that phrase. Did the term even accurately describe them anymore?

She twiddled her thumbs. “I, umm, I was just wondering…our fifteenth birthday is coming up.”

“Yeah,” Isabela pushed the flowers aside, not finding interest in them anymore. “I know.”

“And that means quinceañeras.”

“I know.” Would she stop saying that already, as if she was so much smarter?

“And I was wondering…” Dolores shifted from right foot to left foot. It was now or never. “Maybe…instead of having two quinceañeras on seperate days, we could instead have a quinceañera on the same day. Like…like we used to! When we were little kids! What do you say?”

Isabela thought this over, but Dolores could already tell she was intrigued. “A quinceañera for both of us?” She pondered aloud as if the idea was foreign to her. “But…what would Abuela say?”

And in a rash of impetuousness, Dolores spluttered out, “Who cares what Abuela says? It’s our birthday, not hers! We’re primas-hermanas at the end of the day, so it’s not like it’s a problem. What do YOU say, Isabela?”

Isabela’s eyes lit up. “I say that sounds like a fantastic idea!” She exclaimed.

Dolores’ heart sang with relief. “You mean it?” She asked.

“Yes!” Isabela marveled, leaping up to hug her prima-hermana. “Ooh, yes, it would be so awesome! We’d have cake and dancing and flow—“

“WHAT? IS GOING? ON?”

The girls froze and looked in the direction of the stairwell. Abuela had come down, and unbeknownst to both of them, she had heard their entire conversation. She was not pleased.

In fact, she was furious!

Both girls were frozen in shock and fear, but Dolores decided to be brave enough to speak up.

“Abuela! We were just considering having a quinceañera on the same day! Remember when we were kids and we used to—“

“THAT IS ENOUGH!” Abuela’s voice boomed, and just like that, Dolores lost her strength.

“Abuela I’m sorry-–“

“Dolores,” Alma abruptly cut off. She took a deep breath, rubbing her finger with her brow. Forgive me for yelling. But you must understand that you and Isabela simply cannot share a quinceañera. Quinces are very special affairs to symbolize a girl’s special and beautiful coming of age. You wouldn’t want Isabela to miss out on hers because of your selfishness. Would you?”

“No Abuela.”

“Good. Now—“

“But hey. At least we can still celebrate our birthday together on our sixteenth birthday. Right?”

Abuela huffed, glaring down at Dolores, who tried not to squirm. “Dolores. You are too old to continue doing this shared birthday nonsense. It’s childish. Whether you like it or not, Isabela is older than you. And her birthday comes before yours as well. You will not continue celebrating your birthdays together again. Understand that Dolores. And stop nagging me over the same thing!”

Then she took Isabela’s hands. “Come my dear. The town is in need of your wonderful gift. Bring as many flower bouquets as you can. Goodbye Dolores. And make sure you think about what I just told you and what you did wrong by the time I get back.” Then they took the flowers Isabela had made and walked away.

Dolores watched them leave, Isabela hand in hand with their Abuela, shooting one last sad look at Dolores before turning back around and walking out the door. Dolores felt the tears prickling at her eyes as she realized that once again she was in Isabela’s shadow and always would be. She buried her face in her hands as she tried desperately to wipe the tears. To no avail.

It was the same as always. Dolores tried getting closer to Isabela, but Alma got in the way. She gave up. She didn’t know why she expected it to work. Why she expected anything to come out of something she wanted at the expense of Abuela’s rules. She didn’t know why she tried.

She also didn’t know just how guilty Isabela felt at leaving her beloved sister behind. How every time she was asked to ignore Dolores and help the townsfolk with her gift regret and anger swelled inside her. How every year when her birthday rolled around, Isabela wanted to hide under her rosy sheets and never see the light of day. How she hated being called the perfect golden child of la familia Madrigal and of the Encanto. Nor how, despite it all, and with the exception of when she was asleep, Isabela had never taken off the earrings Dolores gifted her. Not even once. She wished she could say it. But she couldn’t. Some things were better left unheard.

And she resented it. Just like she resented every flower she grew. But there was nothing she could do about it. Her fate was set in stone.

Several years passed since then. Dolores and Isabela were twenty-one, and a lot of good had happened for them in the last few months. The house had fallen apart, but it had been rebuilt, and with it, the bond of the family had also strengthened.

Isabela was no longer the golden child. Now she could grow all kinds of plants she wanted and be free to be herself. Dolores was in a happy relationship with the man of her dreams who, after breaking off his arranged marriage with Isabela, was now free to love her back. And now did, with open arms at that. So she was no longer in Isabela’s shadow, thank God. Mirabel had found her place in the family and was being recognized for the miracle she was. Luisa was no longer treated as a workhorse and was finally given permission to just relax. Which she did, a lot. Camilo was starting to let his true identity show and for once the first time in five years, was able to look in the mirror and like what he saw.

However, one day, as Dolores was washing the plates in the kitchen after lunch, she heard something that really surprised her.

“Isabela?” Julieta asked her daughter. “Why are you so quiet lately? Did you know your birthday’s coming up? Normally you’d be buzzing about the house, eagerly telling us all what presents you want for your birthday and what you want your party to be like.” Dolores felt those chest tighten when she heard those words, all the repressed memories now rising to the surface. “Now you’re mum as a mouse. Why?”

“Well, Mami,” Isabela said plainly, taking a quiet delight in what she was going to say next as she popped a raspberry into her mouth. “That’s simply because it’s far too early to be thinking about birthdays. Mine isn’t even anywhere near yet.”

“Yes it is, Isa,” Mirabel said, popping in all of a sudden. “Your birthday is in three weeks.”

Isabela shook her head. “I suppose you’re literally right, but today I’ve decided on bringing back an old tradition. I’m celebrating my birthday with Dolores this year.”

A plate dropped in the kitchen. Mirabel, Isabela, and Julieta looked up and in said direction, but said nothing as they returned their affection to Isabela.

“Mi amor?” Julieta rubbed the inside of her ear to make sure that they were hearing clearly.

Camilo walked in just then. “You’re celebrating your birthday with my sister? Again? It’s been so long! I can’t believe I wasted all that time fretting over what gift to buy you when you’re not celebrating your birthday for another month’s time. Honestly…” he hissed his teeth and walked out of the room.

“Mi vida, are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure, Mami! Dolores is my sister and I love her very much. It’s just like we used to do when we were kids! I’m sure she’ll love it!”

“Well if I were Dolores, I would say, ‘Isa, how dare you—‘“

Mirabel never got to finish her sentence, because Isabela found herself pounced upon and glomped by her sweet prima-hermana. Isabela found it hard to breathe. Dolores wa in a state of tears.

“—be the best prima-hermana the world has ever known,” Dolores finished.

Mirabel smiled from ear as she watched the scene unfold, Dolores breaking the hug to kiss Isabela on the cheek. “That’s exactly what I was gonna say!” she chirped. Julieta smiled too.

August 31st came. And it was the best birthday party Dolores and Isabela had ever had in over a decade.

They exchanged gifts, Dolores getting a bottle of sweet perfume(which Mariano helped Isabela pick out), Isabela getting a stuffed cactus.

And they were both very happy with them.

As the party continued going on, Isabela tapped Dolores’ shoulder gently. Dolores looked confused, but Isabela led her farther away from the party to a quieter place, where Dolores’ ears could breathe and Isabela could share her secret.

“Dolores…I just want you to know, that I am so so sorry about the years we wasted. Not just our birthdays, but everything. Our gifts, my family expectations, Mariano—“ she snorted. “I’m not even into guys. I’m a lesbian. But Dolores, I just want you to know that you are my best friend and always will be. You’re a twin sister to me.” She took Dolores’ hands in hers. “I love you, Dolores. I really do, and I will never let it happen again. I won’t let the upcoming years go to waste. If you don’t want us to share birthday parties anymore, then I respect that. But I just thought you should know what’s on my mind and has been all these years. And I hope you can forgive me.”

“Oh, Isabela,” Dolores said, crying tears of joy. “I’m not mad at all. I forgive you! I can see now that it wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry I ever thought it was. And I’m sorry I yelled at you all those years ago. And I’d love to bring back the tradition! Believe me!”

Now it was Isabela’s turn to smile. Joyous tears pouring from her lower eyelids, she wrapped Dolores in a tight, warm hug, and Dolores reciprocated.

“I also want you to know,” Isabela whispered into Dolores’ ear. “That I never took these off.” She broke the hug and dangled her earrings playfully. Dolores gasped.

“You’re right!” She marveled, and they both giggled. “Oh Isa, you have no idea how much that means to me!”

“I know,” Isabela replied.

“I wish I could say the same thing about my earmuffs, but I outgrew them.” They laughed at that joke.

“I’ll buy you new ones, I promise!” Isabela proposed.

“Thanks,” Dolores replied before lightly punching Isabela in the arm. “Now let’s stop being so sentimental,” she teased. “Time to get back to the party!”

“Oh, right! Lead the way, prima-hermana!”

They linked arms as they ran back towards the party, not wanting to miss another minute of it.

Isabela and Dolores used to celebrate their birthday on the same date. And though they had stopped, they were back to the tradition once again! They were more than just cousins, they were sisters, platonic soulmates.

And nothing was gonna get in the way of that. Not their gifts, not a man, and definitely not Abuela’s expectations.

Which was exactly how it should be, and always should have been.

But things were better now, and that was what really mattered.

#isabela madrigal #isabela my beloved #isabela is best girl #dolores madrigal #primas-hermanas #fanfic #encanto #encanto fanfic #birthday #encanto birthdays #isabela madrigal is a lesbian #pepa madrigal is transgender #felix madrigal is transgender

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sansxfuckyou · 1 year

Text

Me, Myself and I (she's not real, it's not true)

Summary: Your gift is a curse, is it even yours? Or is it simply being passed from person to person, you don't even know what you like anymore; just a curly haired teen? A giddy child? A confused girl who can't get out? In essence, they're all you, everyone is.

Warnings: Identity Crisis, check tags for further warnings.

Authors Note: Watched Encanto again, forgot how much angst potential was packed into this boy, convinced to actually write it by @sobredunia who has the magic touch when it comes to making me write shit, and the direction I was going with the gender bit was less on the transgender end of the spectrum, but more of the, what you could've been end of the spectrum, reblogs are always appreciated.

You look in a mirror, you don't know what you see.

You don't know who you see, every morning it's different, 'me myself and I' the therapist said; the therapist is wrong.

You're not her, you're not it- you're not Mira, you're not Camilo, you are Camilo, but Camilo is not needed, like Mira.

You aren't needed, Abuela is needed, Pepa is needed, Julieta is needed, even Bruno is needed; but you aren't, who you can become is what's really needed. You'll be given a list of everyone elses chores, and you'll do them under the guise it really is Mira playing with the neighbor kids, it really is Julieta washing the dishes even though it never is.

It's you, it's you, it always has been you. Has it really?

Felix gives you chores, you, she, it, 'me, myself and I,' one of whatever exists within will do it, but all of it is you, and none of her is you; you've lost yourself. If yourself even exists underneath the never ending life of lies you uphold for The Family Madrigal, for The Encanto and for the love and respect of those you hold so dearly despite knowing they only need you for what you can be- not for what you are.

And each morning you know it to be truer and truer as you look in the mirrors, none of them reflect you anymore, they only reflect what you're supposed to be, meant to mimic. The local seamstress, a mother in need, anyone and everyone but you, and then there are faces you don't recognize from the town, and faces that aren't human.

You see yourself, eyes emerald, hair curly, frame thin, everything so close to the same except for the fact you aren't wearing what you always do; you're wearing a dress that you've memorized. The top piece is white, the sleeves are short, the waist has a sash with chameleon sigils, the skirt is sunflower yellow, and you look so good in that dress, but she isn't you (Is she, was she supposed to be?). In another mirror you see a distorted child, crouching down to be at eye level, pressing hands together, knowing it is you, it was you, knowing it could still be you; grinning and failing the family so blissfully. You tell the child everything will be fine, nothing will go wrong and too never stop smiling despite knowing that child has a future that will change it forever for the worse- and the child can only stare at you, knowing its fate despite being so young.

This room, this cell, and this prison is all yours, everyone of the Family Madrigal resides in it, its everyones all at once, yet Casita doesn't treat them like prisoners. You know its not on purpose, you know your gift reflects in your room, you're far too aware of the fact that no matter how many mirrors you smash you're only making more. Shards of broken glass swept up as glass reforms, pulls together, lets you to see into your soul and to see nothing left but a hollow vessel that's bursting at the seams with how much of nothing fills it. It's just you, whatever components of what you really are left over, that's what there is, the girl, the child and you, she's not real, it isn't the truth.

You, Camilo Madrigal, the shapeshifter who makes everyone smile, have an empty purpose because they don't want you, and you know it chips at your self esteem every time you think that, but its true, its true, its true. Nobody needs Camilo, they need everyone but you, you're everyone but Camilo at this point, you fill roles when they can't be there to do it themselves.

'Me, myself and I,' you'll never know them, not if they never existed in a way you could understand.

You're just a chameleon, but a chameleon knows itself.

---

Waking up, you find yourself not even bothering to glance in the mirrors, none of them show what you think is you, nor will they ever because you don't exist. Why should you exist if no one wants you around, you're just a fun-house mirror that shows everyone what they want to see, and no one wants to see you anymore.

Breakfast is slow, you stay quiet, giving your two cents here and there like you always do, dread sinking in even further because breakfast is almost over and you haven't asked you of anything. You refrain from grabbing seconds, you'll get in trouble if you do that, you simply stay seated and wait for Abuela to give you a chore as she lists off tasks for everyone, skipping over you. Luisas dealing with the donkeys, Isabella has to help a farmer, Mirabel is babysitting a group of kids, and you're left without anything to do.

"Abuela?" You pipe up, tone firm, tone sharp, tone unwavering, you've become used to picking and choosing your favorite parts of everyones voices.

"Yes Camilo?" Abuela asked, turning to you.

"What about my job?" You ask, fork migrating to Dolores plate, she doesn't seem to notice as you nab some of her food.

"You don't have one today, theirs nothing the town needs from you right now," Abuela answered with, cracks in your vessel spread as she confirmed your fears, you refrained from tearing up.

"Okay, what should I do than?" You ask, unable to help the pleading tone in your voice, guidance direction, you don't know much of what you're supposed to do when theirs nothing your gift can do for you, for everyone else.

"You should help Bruno for the day," Dolores said, perfectly repressing her expressions, the Madrigal in question perked up at the mention of his name.

"Lovely idea, Dolores," Abuela said, smiling softly as she stood, everyone else following suite and filtering out of Casita, Bruno swift in his attempt to leave, you followed like an orphan duckling, still unaware of who Bruno needed for the job.

And so you followed Bruno, patiently waiting for instruction as you scaled stair after stair, he was simply mumbling to himself. The top of the stairs was to say the least, the most welcoming sight of the week, you took a seat. It was weird, doing anything and being yourself, whatever part of yourself you liked to reflect, and you weren't sure if you liked it.

"So, Tío Bruno, who do you need on the job?" You asked, stretching out your arms a little bit.

"Ah, you followed me up here, of course you did, I don't need help, but you can help if you want to," Bruno said, you quirked a brow.

"Okay, but, who do you want on the job?" You asked again, changing your words ever so slightly, this man, one generation before you, surely understood the question.

"I want you too help me drain my Vision Cave of sand so I have somewhere to give visions," Bruno said again, adding more information, you still didn't understand it entirely.

"Right, so... Luisa?" You asked, shifting your form to your older cousin Luisa, Bruno groaned.

"No, guess again," Bruno said, you shifted to Mira, he shook his head, Isabella, he shook his head, Dolores or Tonito, two shakes of the head, you give up.

"Just tell me who you want help from so I can help," you practically begged, unable to just trust that anyone out there could want your help, not someone elses.

"Come back once you figure it out, and bring a broom, there is a lot of sand up here," Bruno said, pivoting on one foot before heading further into the cave, his rats following close in line, leaving you alone, "talk to Julieta, she might be able to help."

You tried to stutter out a response, but nothing wanted to come out no matter whose voice you picked. So stubbornly, you turned to leave, pivoting on foot like Bruno, huffing a bit as you started on your trek back down all those fucking stairs.

---

You're panting when you make it to the kitchen, finding your Tía Julieta prepping a meal, she takes note of your existence by calling you over. You follow, gripping the edge of the counter for support, legs numb and shaking, a bruise here and there from when you tripped, a small cut on your face. Julieta hands you an arepa, fresh off the heat, you take it gratefully, trying to eat slowly despite how tempted you are to just wolf it down; be polite, don't be crass, you wipe your hands down on a stray towel.

"Aren't you working with Bruno, sobrino?" Julieta asked, turning to face the food on the counter, back to prep work, but you know she's at least half listening.

"He sent me off when I couldn't guess who he needed for the job, I have to bring him a broom soon," you explained, nibbling away at the morsel in your hands, delicious as always, "he said you might be able to help me figure it out."

"I don't know how much help I can be, but I'll try sobrino," Julieta said, flipping a few of the arepas on the stove before turning to you.

"He just kept saying that he wanted my help, not someone elses, which is not only estúpido, but confusing, no one wants my help, they just want copies," you explained, hoping that Julieta could even attempt to get it, to make sense of what Bruno was saying, she didn't respond right away.

"Well, Camilo, have you considered he could actually want your help?" Julieta asked gently, you gave a tilted look before responding.

"No ones wanted my help since I was five, all everyone has ever wanted in this town is everyone elses help when they can't be around, no one wants my help Tía Julieta," you explained, her expression sunk a bit, you spoke again before she could try and comfort you, "I know everyone in this town better than myself, I could be your perfect pal, be everyone in this town, but it'll never be me."

"Camilo, that's not true," Julieta said, you raised a brow at her, as though waiting for her justification for such a bold statement, "it feels that way, but we do want you around, we promise."

"This isn't even me, I look in a mirror and I don't know who I see, it's not me I know that much, I see what I'm supposed to be, what everyone needs, and no one needs me," you unraveled, trying to make it clear, trying to make your Tía understand, she wouldn't get it though, no ones gift was a curse in the same way yours was, "I don't even know why I'm telling you this, you aren't even mamá."

"That's because you're supposed to be everyone, you are everyone, you're one of the strings that keep this village held together, more so than some of the other Madrigals; you're a mirror," Julieta explained, trying to comfort your case of mistaken identity, your case of just not knowing anymore, "thank you for telling me."

"That's the problem, I'm the mirror, the truest mirror in town, and because of that, no mirror can reflect myself back at me, mirrors just show me everyone else I'm meant to reflect- I'm no chameleon, just a piece of broken glass," you said, pace hastening, heartrate picking up, digging deeper into your twisted psyche of never knowing what they'll need but knowing it won't be you, Camilo Madrigal.

"Stay here, watch the arepas," Julieta instructed, you nodded before she left, snagging a second arepa, regretting not having eaten enough this morning.

Her footsteps receded further and further until you couldn't hear her anymore, leaving you to yourself to stare at your own broken reflection of a curly haired girl in a dress looking back at you from the flattop. You smiled a little bit, you liked her, the child started to look back at you next, you had to refrain from holding out a hand to it like you always did, not wanting to get that many burns. Soon enough their reflections faded out, what you could've been and what you were, leaving only you behind; footsteps, rapid footsteps, you looked up to find Pepa clearly distressed, carrying a small hailstorm with her.

One moment your getting ready to say high the next you're no longer on the ground and the air is being squeezed from your lungs by Pepa, and you wish you were confused as to why. She doesn't let go, even why you try to nudge away, hail stinging as it hits, like ice against your neck, and she's crying a little bit. You know exactly why, Julieta told her everything, hail turns to a drizzle and she doesn't notice.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry we let you feel like that," Pepa sobbed out, continuing on in a similar fashion as she let you down, using her forearm to wipe her tears.

"No, mamá, it's perfectly fine, deep breathes," you said, trying to reassure her and ease her frayed nerves in one go, somehow managing one of the two.

"It's not fine, Abuela caused this, she let everyone use you, I'm so sorry Camilo," Pepa said, sniffling a little bit as the rain cloud started to fade just barely.

"Mamá, I promise you, everything is okay," you said, she gave a questioning look, you nodded a little bit.

"I'll make sure the rest of the familia knows," Pepa said, already determined to make sure her boy could smile earnestly once again, you shook your head.

"Please don't, it's fine if they don't need my help," you said, she went to speak again, you spoke first, "I don't want them to worry."

"Alright, I won't tell anyone except for Bruno," Pepa said, pulling you in for one more hug before turning to leave you alone with your reflection again.

And when you looked at it, looked at the hollow reflection, you saw a part of yourself you always did, the two looked a little bit better though; a bit more alive. You didn't know why they looked healthier, you weren't sure if you ever would be able to perceive your 'me, myself and I' the way everyone else does, but it doesn't matter. They don't looks so forlorn, and the childs distortion has begun to fade and its just a little bit of your own miracle.

You smile and wave as though they're separate people.

And you see the you that everyone else does smiling and waving back at you, colors stuck in sepia and grayscale, distortion strong- but it's you.

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