Chapter Text
Bruno was always content in the background of events, watching his family and friends and soaking in the surrounding atmosphere. As the village prepared to rebuild the Madrigal’s casita, he tried to find that old niche for himself again, but Mirabel and his sisters made that difficult. They were constantly pulling him into things, dinners, rebuilding efforts, and “socializing”, something Bruno had never excelled at. One of the few people he hadn’t gone near was the priest, not for any lack of wanting, of course. The man was older now, much like Bruno himself, but a carefree smile dressed up his features more often than when they were young. He was also without hair, not even the wig Julieta had helped him make. The last time Bruno had seen him, standing outside the casita with shoulders slumped, was still ever-present.
Today Mirabel had tried to find something he could do with the slightly limited skills he had. Living in the walls for ten years meant Bruno hadn’t done a lot of things in a while. Laying out sand for the foundations seemed like the perfect job to her. The townspeople were always curious about him. Even now, they tried to subtly stick around him as he worked, offering water or praise like he was Antonio’s age. As nervous as that many eyes on him made him, Bruno had to admit it felt nice to finally be around his people again. Sitting behind the walls, listening to his family and neighbors eat and laugh, was like becoming a ghost. He couldn’t help but wonder if his father had stuck around and felt the same way. He used to pretend Pedro was right next to him. Abuela had always said Bruno reminded her of him.
The crowd today was smaller than normal, given how stressed Pepa was lately. Everyone knew we were due for a small rainstorm and didn’t want to start anything that could get ruined by that. As the first drops splashed down, Bruno stopped his own work, realizing most of his group had dispersed to dryer places. Sighing, he laid down his own tools, cracking his sore hands and turning around. Behind Bruno, in a half-built archway, was the priest. His hands twisted around a handkerchief quickly.
Both men stood there for a moment, too afraid that if they moved, the other would disappear. Bruno reached out first. He was always more ready to touch the other. Curling a careful hand around the other man’s face. The priest’s hands shook slightly before he took Bruno’s hand into his own, moving it from his face and placing the handkerchief into it.
Looking down, Bruno untied the fabric and smiled when he saw the freshly made polvorosas inside. They were messier than Julieta’s, looking over the priest now he saw the man had small patches of flour and powdered sugar on his clothing (not his priest robes, as those weren’t great for building, but a soft maroon shirt and brown pants).
“You made these?” He couldn’t help but ask, needing to hear the other man’s voice.
“I wanted to know if I could,” the priest admitted, his eyes soft and warm. If either man had bothered to look at a nearby wall at that moment, they would have seen three crouch figures, Julieta, Agustin, and their daughter Mirabel, who had all had roles in trying to get the two men to speak again. Agustin was nursing a bump to his head as they watched. He didn’t quite know why this was so important, but he always trusted his wife.
The priest cleared his throat, clearly still nervous. “I have to admit, I never thought I’d see you again Bruno,” He said, voice stronger than he had expected. Bruno smiled wryly. “I never thought I’d see me again either,” He said, looking down at his own hands as if to check if they were real. He then placed his hands on the Priest’s face gingerly, “But I am so glad I can see you again. I have a lot of apologies to say, and yours is one of them”. It was the priest’s turn to smile as he leaned slightly into the touch, a stark difference from his touch adverse youth. “I wouldn't accept an apology if you gave one. Your sister told me why you did it. You’re very brave,” He chided. For a moment, they both stood in silence, before dissolving into laughter.
“I would assume my sister told you quite a lot of things”, Bruno said through his laughter, still failing to notice her hiding just feet away. “She told me more than she should have at times,” the priest admitted, his laughter dying down as he spoke. Their eyes met again, and both men took a moment to enjoy being this close to the other before the priest made a choice he never thought himself capable of making. He kissed Bruno Madrigal. It felt better than he had thought, better than his secret imaginings when he lay awake at night. Moreover, it felt safe, a feeling the priest was not entirely familiar with.
The next few weeks of house-building were strange, but strangeness was something the Madrigals were growing more accustomed to. As the house slowly grew closer to being finished, the two men grew closer as well. They spent most of their, albeit limited, free time with each other, and quite a lot of working time as well. Slowly, they bonded back to their old ways, running around like boys again as they worked. Everyone in the village breathed a small breath of relief at their antics, feeling as if all that had been lost was finally returned to them. Abuela would sit Bruno down many months later, in the newly rebuilt casita and ask him about the priest. He would be scared of the talk, but all she needed to know was one thing,
“Does he care for you?”
And Bruno found he could honestly answer his mother,
“Yes.”