Chapter Text
Standing before his Mamá’s door never meant anything good. Bruno associated it with either grumpiness of Alma before she got to drink her morning coffee, or disappointment related to another "failure" of a vision he had. He was used to it at that point, though, seeing how nothing had gone well for him for years now. But this night was supposed to be perfect, filled with joy and excitement and magic. This was supposed to be a break from everyday’s routine, from everyday’s disappointments.
And yet… Instead, it was filled with worry, fear, and confusion.
Everyone was asking the same question - why didn’t his sobrina get a gift? He didn’t need Dolores’s power to hear the whispers between the townsfolk. Some of the things they were saying were enough to make him want to speak his mind to them. ...but it's not like he could actually muster anything more than a nervous stutter of a sentence. Besides, his family took priority. Julieta and Agustín, sick with worry, Mamá, filled with fear… and Mirabel, whose spirit itself seemed to be destroyed by the night’s events. The way she looked at him, at his hermana and cuñado, asking why didn’t she get her gift, why it didn’t work…
Leaving the nursery behind, filled with her sobs and Julieta’s comforting words, felt like it was drilling a hole in his chest. He noted the rest of the family either pacing nervously outside the room or sheepishly peeking in to check on the youngest Madrigal.
But he had to leave. He didn’t want to leave Mamá waiting. And… there had to be a reason why she called for him specifically. And he was pretty sure he knew exactly what it was.
He didn't even have to enter. He could do what she expected of him right there and then, without the need of confrontation… Standing before that door, he could already feel the dread of what he’d see after he left. He wished so badly he could see something good for once, a reasonable explanation to why the Miracle refused to grant Mira a gift. But… he hadn’t seen anything good in his visions for what felt like forever.
It wasn’t always like this. Sometimes he’d think back to how it used to be. Of how people praised him for his gift, of how his name wasn't a bad omen among the townsfolk.
He remembered his first few visions.
He remembered that they were minor - things only a five-year-old boy would care deeply about. Nothing life-changing, nothing that didn’t concern himself or his hermanas or Mamá. A peek to see if Mamá would be in a good enough mood to ask her for something, to predict if their favourite dish would greet the dinner table anytime in the next week, a glimpse to know which stone not to step on to avoid falling into the cold river. How happy Julieta was when Bruno told her that Mamá would let her make dinner herself in a few weeks. How each time he predicted the weather to Pepa it would be exactly that, and it would make her so joyous that she was getting the hang of her own gift.
He remembered how scared he was when Mamá tried to convince him to see something for the townsfolk. “We must use our Miracle to help the people,” she said, and Bruno could suddenly feel something heavy in his chest. He was nervous, that was for sure. He never was the most social of children, always sticking to his hermanas when he could, avoiding eye contact with anyone on the street to reduce the possibility of accidentally engaging in a conversation. So far, people in the town only heard rumors of his gift. Some were intrigued, wondering if the youngest triplet would share it with the rest of the community soon. Others were skeptical. After all, how could a child tell them what their future was going to be? And if he really could do that, why wouldn't he share it with them already?
All of them expected something from him.
He remembered that one afternoon. Entering his tower, walking up the stairs to the very top. It wasn’t as tall as it later became - it was much smaller, less spacious, filled with books and art supplies on various shelves among the sand. Frames and sheets of paper and pens were scattered across the bed. He liked it, though, as it gave him a sanctuary within which he could hide from the world outside and get lost in other hobbies he had that weren't related to his gift.
It was all at the bottom of the tower, though.. at the top was his vision cave. He used to be intimidated by its size, by the sand that would seep into his shoes until he decided to wear appropriate footwear to such an environment. It almost seemed as if the top of the tower had tons more sand in it, getting into every nook and cranny of the cave and his clothes. He used to be intimidated. Once he understood how much space he needed for his visions to be more accurate, though, he became thankful, really. He could see all the details in the dome of swirling sand, all the facial features, the tiny movements and expressions he needed to interpret what he was seeing. Be it any smaller, he’d have trouble figuring out what he was looking at, as he learned at some point when he tried having visions anywhere else.
He hugged the jade tablet as it materialized before him, struggling just a little not to drop it. His arms barely managed to wrap around it. He already had the opportunity to find out how fragile these things were. And this wasn’t something to give to his hermanas or his Mamá, no, this was a gift. A gift to the first person from the town he could focus on.
Señor José was an older man, well known in the rather small community of the Encanto, mostly thanks to his baked and cooked goods that sent the wondrous smells across the town nearly every morning, attracting all the morningbirds to his little establishment for the longest time. He’d always give Bruno a Chontaduro or an Arepa on the house anytime he’d see the kid nearby, almost sneaking through the streets of the town not to be spotted by anybody.
And, despite the fact he’d never said anything to the old man other than a quick, barely audible gracias, he always appreciated the small gestures of kindness. Which was why he’d decided to do something nice for him in return.
He somehow managed to hide the jade tablet underneath his ruana as he ran through the town. People turned to look at him as he passed by, which he didn’t acknowledge. He didn't care that it was simply an unusual sight to see the Madrigal boy so excited about something. Most couldn’t help but wonder what it was all about.
He knew his way to the bakery. After all, he snuck by purposely quite often to get one of these free treats sometimes. Despite that, he found himself halting right before the door. Right, what was he supposed to say? He got there, with the tablet in hand, and… now what? Could he just leave the tablet and run?
No, Señor José wouldn’t understand what was in the vision. He’d never show any of these to anybody other than his familia. How could he explain what he saw? He usually stumbled over his words when speaking to his hermanas, but they didn’t mind, he couldn’t know if anybody else would–
“Ah, Bruno!” A low yet soft voice snapped him out of his small panic, making his head snap up to the source of it. The man in question, Señor José, was resting on the windowsill of his bakery, smiling at the child. Bruno gripped the tablet underneath his ruana, his eyes widening slightly as he nearly took a step back. He could feel sweat form on his forehead.
“It’s always a pleasure to see you up and around,” the man continued. “And just in time! Would you care for an empanada?”
His eyes visibly lit up as he looked back at the man with new interest. But, right! He was there for a reason. He couldn’t just forget about it… he could get the empanada after. …if Señor José would still want to give it to him. But he probably would! He saw a good thing, he thought.
“Actually, I, uh…” he mumbled, his eyes drifting away as he looked for the right words to explain.
“Oh, could you speak up a little?” Señor José requested. “Lo siento, I can’t understand a word!”
He almost flinched. Right. Right. Speak up. Mamá always told him that he spoke a little too quietly when he wasn’t speaking to her or his hermanas. She always said it was rude.
“I- I have a vision for you!” he nearly yelled, taking the jade tablet out of its hiding spot and holding it out for the older man to see. He turned his face away, though, closing his eyes shut and bracing for the reaction.
…which, surprisingly, never came. At least, not from Señor José. His eye cracked open as he heard whispers of other people around him.
“A vision?”
“What’s that tablet supposed to be?”
“So he can see the future?”
“What did he foresee?”
“José’s in the vision?”
He looked around as he saw several bypassers look at him. They probably heard his announcement. A wave of instant regret flooded his chest, tightened his throat as he realized how many eyes were focused on him.
It wasn’t that many, really. But it felt like the whole town was staring at him, and he couldn’t tell what emotions hid behind their eyes.
“A vision?” Señor José spoke up at last. “That tablet is the vision?”
Bruno didn’t look back at him, even if his voice snapped him out of his anxieties for a moment. He did glance in his general direction though, if only to see how he’d react. Was he mad he never asked him if he wanted him to take a peek into his future?
His heart dropped when he realized the baker disappeared inside the building, gently shutting the blinds as he did.
Right, he should’ve asked. Señor José probably never wanted to see what the future holds, like when Mamá said that some people may not like it, but he showed it to him anyway. And now he’d be upset, and he wouldn’t give Bruno the promised empanada now, nor ever, and he really liked these empanadas–
The door before him suddenly creaked as it swung open, making him take a startled step back and fumble with the prophecy in his hands. Once he finally held a firm grip on it once more - as much as he could, at least - he saw the baker take a glance around the curious bypassers that still whispered among each other, staring between the two of them. Some walked away, but, frankly, they most likely went to tell the rest of the town of the discovery.
“Come in, niño,” he said softly, holding the door and looking at Bruno expectantly.
And, as much as he wished he could run away and forget it all had just happened, he decided to hesitantly walk into the bakery, not sparing a single glance back at the crowd.
The bakery itself, aside from the various smells of cooking vegetables and herbs, seemed pretty empty. It would strike Bruno as odd, given he remembered it always being full of life, if not for the circumstances. Now the lack of chattering customers was reassuring, as there were no more eyes to pierce into his soul.
“...So you have a vision… for me?” Señor José asked, turning to face the child. He left the door ajar, although Bruno noted it was probably enough to get the eyes off of his back. He sighed a little in relief at that, but that didn’t get rid of all his worries. He nodded to confirm what the baker just said was true.
“And the vision is that tablet," he said, to confirm what he'd asked about previously. Bruno nodded again, a little more hesitant as he held it out once more. The older man leaned over to reach out, gently taking it into his hands to look closer. The little seer didn’t protest. He even glanced up to watch for his reactions.
“...what does it mean?” the baker asked. Bruno hesitated.
“It’s… it’s you and Julieta,” he explained what was on the tablet, just a tad confused that the man couldn't tell.
“Your hermana,” Señor José said, although it didn’t really sound like a question. Bruno nodded anyway.
“...you’re going to– she’ll help you with the bakery,” he carried on nervously, given he still hadn’t gotten a clear reaction out of him. “And– with her gift I mean– she- she’ll help, and there’ll be lots of people coming, and you’re going to be happy, and she’ll also be happy to help– and she’ll help the injured, since there are– there will be people hurt on the buildsite–”
“Alright, alright,” Señor José spoke up, holding one of his hands up to make a gentle gesture to interrupt his ramble. “Julieta’s going to help me in the bakery?” he asked instead. “But she’s just…” he began, trailing off as he frowned just a little bit when his eyes met Bruno’s. That happened for just a split second, though, as Bruno immediately looked to the side, as if he didn’t want to show how much he was trying to get a reaction out of him.
“...That’s nice, Bruno,” he said instead, a soft smile that didn’t reach his eyes appearing on his face. “Very… nice.”
Bruno blinked. That was enough for him to smile too, even if he continued nervously playing with the edge of his ruana.
“And you’re sure it’ll happen?” the baker asked, looking back at the tablet.
“It always does,” the child stated, clearly a bit more confident now that he thought he was legitimately helping. Señor José hummed, before holding out the tablet for the kid to take it. Bruno shook his head, though. “You can keep it!”
That got a hesitant chuckle out of him. “Well… alright then,” he said, setting the tablet on the nearby counter as he walked past it. “Now, about that empanada…”
Bruno’s eyes lit up once again. He was much more willing to follow this time to receive the promised treat, as if it was a prize for a job well done.
It took him years to realize how hesitant Señor José actually was about what he told him. That the true reason he let Julieta help with the bakery was because he figured it would make both kids a bit happier. But Julieta ended up being a great pupil, learning quickly and grasping more variations of the same recipes to share with her Mamá. The kids were too young to understand the bakery was struggling. That Señor José's cooking wasn't as well liked in the community as it once was, due to his age causing him to misjudge the proportions. That he really had nothing else to lose when he began teaching Julieta. She took a slightly new spin on the dishes, merging her Mamá and Señor José's recipes and giving little additions to them. And as much as he appreciated young eyes helping him get his old recipes right, he really didn't expect that her childish touch would make people flow into the bakery once again by the end of the week. Not to mention her healing gift really helped out some people who were helping build a new house on the edge of the town after a particularly bad accident.
Bruno remembered the night where Señor José, with Julieta’s help, would give away piles of different types of dishes as a form of celebration. Bruno couldn't really recall the huge variety of the cuisine. He remembered how the old man came up to him with a laugh and thanked him dearly with a hug, how Mamá’s soft smile filled his chest with warm pride, as warm as Pepa’s sun on a particularly good day. He remembered how uncomfortable the whispers around town made him, hearing his own name being spoken so often and so many people just looking at him as he passed by. And he definitely remembered how after that night, more and more people began coming up to him to ask him for visions.
It was about once a month at first. That lasted only a few months, then it turned to once every two weeks, once a week, until eventually he’d have to give people visions once a day, if not more.
The thing he remembered the best, though, was his Mama’s proud smile. The smile that made him feel so good about what he’s done. The smile that made him motivated to keep going, keep advising people about their fates. The smile he’d eventually become so desperate to replicate.
The smile he’d never see again after that night.