Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The little village of Encanto was alive with light and music. After Bruno's return there had been little oportunities for celebration: la Casita had to be rebuilt and nobody really knew if the miracle was lost forever. But when the gifts of the Madrigals came back, a party was well due. Nobody had issues helping prepare a mighty feast with decorations fit for a wedding.

The plaza was lit with candles and lanterns. Beautiful flower garlands hung from every building, courtesy of Isabela. Everyone wore their best clothes, and the people were dancing and singing on the streets. Even the tiles seemed to shine brighter.

In a corner of the plaza, holding onto a glass of wine like it was the only thing tying him to the ground, was Bruno Madrigal. Trying to leave the premises despite his niece's best efforts.

"It's not that I don't appreciate it. I'm just not good with people." He explained for the eleventh time.

"Come ON, tío." Mirabel insisted. "An hour. Stay for an hour and talk to someone. That's a good compromise!"

Bruno rolled his eyes in exasperation. She had said the same thing an hour ago. With everyone in the plaza, he couldn't even make an excuse or pretend he had something better to do. He was stuck at the party with all the loud noises and all the people who didn't hate him anymore but didn't really like him.

Then, he had an idea.

He suddenly raised one hand towards Mirabel and hid his face behind the wine glass, like he was in pain. He grunted and mumbled like a madman, worrying his niece.

"¿Tío? Are you good?"

"I'm having a very powerful vision right now." He said, gritting his teeth. "I need to leave."

Mirabel crossed her arms.

"Really?"

Bruno remained committed to his performance.

"Yes!" He raised his head to look at the crowd like he was searching for someone. "It was incredibly dark. I saw... I saw blood!"

Mirabel was not impressed, but she was slightly amused. She decided to play on her uncle's charade to try and keep him entertained for a little while. That might help him get in the festive mood.

"How gruesome. And what else did you see? Was the party fun?" She teased.

If Bruno caught on her tone, he didn't show it.

"It was fun! But then... then I saw..."

The man's words died on his thoat. His stare was lost somewhere in the crowd. Mirabel, surprised, waved a hand in front of her uncle's face.

"You saw?" She asked.

"I... saw..."

"Yes?"

"Do you... Do you see her too? Is this a hallucination?"

Mirabel's eyes followed her uncle's as she searched for the person he was talking about. Sure enough, there you were. One of the newer additions to the town's population, a skilled seamstress and a decent dancer. Mirabel hadn't talked to you a lot since you arrived, but for what she had heard you were a kind, caring person with a good reputation already. You didn't have a lot of friends yet, so you were sitting on the edge of the fountain with a calm smile, listening to whatever some kid was rambling about.

Bruno looked at you with his mouth slightly open. Your eyes were so bright and clean, your skin looked so soft to the touch. Your hair framed your face in just the perfect way, and oh, what a face. He felt like he had seen your features in his imagination a million times. You had the right nose, the right eyebrows, the right chin, all in the exact proportions he found beautiful. If someone had tasked him with drawing the prettiest woman he could think of, he would have made a worse job at capturing your likeness.

Mirabel thought you would look very pretty with her uncle's arm around you.

"Who... Who is she? I haven't seen her around." Bruno's voice was barely above a whisper, like he was talking more to himself than to Mirabel. That was probably the case.

"Why don't you ask her?" Replied the girl with a mischievous grin. "HEY! SEAMSTRESS!"

Bruno snapped out of his trance. He slapped his hand over his niece's mouth and pulled her away from your sight, just in time for you to look up and stare in confusion at the empty space in the corner of the plaza.

The man walked his niece to a more secluded place, feeling his heartbeat in his throat. He decided then and there that he wouldn't trust a kid ever again. When he thought you were out of earshot, he let go of Mirabel and started waving his arms frantically.

"¿Qué haces? Are you out of your mind?" He whisper-shouted.

"Relájate. She's nice, tío. I know her"

It was admirable that Mirabel remained calm given the panicked state of her uncle but, then again, she had been under more pressure quite recently. When Bruno heard she knew you, his demeanor changed instantly. He seemed shameful but interested, as if wanting to know more about you was morally wrong.

After a short pause, he asked: "So?"

"So?" Mirabel was confused.

"So... what's her name?"

Mirabel gave him all the information she had about you. She rambled and rambled about your family, how long ago you arrived and every gossip she could remember that referenced you in the slightest.

"And... Yeah, that's all I got." She finished.

Bruno's face fell. You were a beautiful woman, way out of his league. You were kind, respected and skilled. Even if the chance ever presented itself, he wouldn't have the courage to talk to you.

Bruno knew himself well, having spent so much time alone with his thoughts. He knew that if he talked about something enough, the little seed of hope might plant its roots in his chest, and that could only lead to disappointment. There was a chance that you, being a nice person and new to Encanto, would respond well to him in the first instance. What then, huh? Would he have to bear the sight of you having dinner with his family, just out of his reach? Would he have to go through his fear of saying the wrong thing, second guessing everything you did just in case you secretly hated him? Just as he began to feel happy with his life, there you were, ready to turn everything upside down. Well, nu-huh. Poor Bruno was going to take care of himself.

"Okay." He said, swiftly turning around and walking away. That was the best option. To remove himself from the situation entirely until he forgot about that vision of beauty.

Mirabel followed him, because of course she did.

"¡Tío! What do you mean? Go talk to her!"

"No."

"¿Cómo que no? ¡Tío!"

"I said no. I'm sorry I asked. It's a hopeless situation and you should forget about it."

"Forget about it?" Mirabel grabbed Bruno's wrist, stopping him in his tracks and forcing him to confront her. "Tío, do you know how weird you are? We love you and all, but you're very hard to talk to. Like, very hard. So elusive and closed and..."

"Thank you?"

"BUT." She continued. "You're showing interest on someone who isn't related to us! Doesn't she deserve an oportunity to get to know you too? Are you going to deprive her of the man of her dreams?"

With his dirty ruana, his shorts and his sandals, Bruno felt like anything but the love of your life. He hadn't even cut his hair since he emerged from the walls of la Casita. Mirabel's words were only hammering the last nail in the coffin of his hopes and dreams.

He tenderly pulled his niece's hand from his wrist.

"Sobrinita..." He started. His tone didn't leave room for discussion, but it was clear that he was trying to be soft on Mirabel after panicking earlier. "Don't take this the wrong way, but stop messing with my life. I know my place and I'm happy to be there. I wouldn't know what to do with a woman like her... and I don't intend to find out. It's called comfort zone for a reason, okay?"

Mirabel nodded slowly. The gears were turning inside her head, thinking of ways to overrule everything Bruno had just said.

"Can I leave?" She asked, maybe a bit too eagerly.

"I thought you'd never ask."

Mirabel missed her uncle's sigh of relief when she jumped to hug him and kiss him in the cheek, waving goodbye to him before running back to the plaza with a plan on her mind. She would need Camilo's help, but she knew she could count on him. If everything went well, her uncle would have a lot to thank her for in the future.

Mirabel spotted Camilo dancing with his friends and made her way to the group, pushing unceremoniously through the rest of the townsfolk that gathered in the plaza. The complaints and shrieks that followed her path alerted her cousin before she arrived, so when she planted herself in front of him with her hands on her hips and a smile from ear to ear, he opened his arms and embraced her warmly.

"¡Primita!" He exclaimed. "Do you want me to introduce you?"

Mirabel returned the hug but shook her head, barely containing her excitement.

"No need. I'm here to offer a secret mission."

Camilo's eyebrows shot upwards, his grin getting even wider.

"Dale, dime. I'm in."

But Mirabel wasn't going to discuss such an important matter in front of Camilo's friends. She leaned towards him cospiratiously. "Not here. Follow me."

Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed her cousin's wrist and pulled him away from the crowd, to the same secluded spot where she had been talking to Bruno about you before. Camilo tried to stop and say hi to several people along the way, but Mirabel kept pulling until they were hidden from unwanted eyes and ears. She was ruthless.

"Well, this better be good. I'm at the edge of my seat." Stated Camilo, fixing the position of his ruana after his cousin's rough treatment.

"It is!" Mirabel clapped excitedly, jumping up and down. "Tío Bruno likes a girl!"

Camilo's eyes widened in shock and his hands flew to his head.

"What!?" He exclaimed, holding back a chuckle. "Our tío Bruno?"

"Yes! I knew you'd get it."

The boy stuttered a couple times, trying to put his thoughts in order.

"Who is she?" He finally asked.

Mirabel told him everything, from the way Bruno had lost his train of thought the second he saw you to the conversation that followed. Camilo groaned in frustration when he found out his uncle didn't intend on courting you, and by the end of Mirabel's discourse he was more than willing to take part in her plan to get you and Bruno together.

"So what do we do?" He asked eagerly.

Mirabel's eyes twinkled with excitement.

"Well, I had an idea. You could shapeshift into our tío and talk to her tonight. That way, when we tell him the damage is already done, he will have no choice!"

Camilo did so inmediately. The exact likeness of tío Bruno stood before Mirabel with his arms open wide in arrogance.

"Easy." Said 'Bruno'.

But the confident way Camilo usually talked and moved was a stark contrast with the reserved nature of their uncle. Mirabel frowned, suddenly worried about her project.

"Promise you will act like him? We can't mess up. No room for mistakes." She warned.

'Bruno' dismissed her with a flick of his wrist.

"I know how to talk to women. I'll get our tío a date for tomorrow night."

He left with spring on his step, determined to help expand his familia through mischief and deceit. Mirabel decided to trust him, and followed at a distance to enjoy the show.

You had been sitting on the fountain for about an hour and a half, playing with the kids and making casual conversation with your neighbours here and there. Your legs were getting stiff and you wanted nothing more than to go home, but you had promised yourself you would at least try to participate in the town's festivities. 

You had moved to Encanto about a month ago, just after la Casita de los Madrigal started reconstruction, so you barely had time to talk to anyone between your day job as a seamstress and your volunteering in the area. You hadn't even seen most of the famous Madrigals that everybody talked so much about. You knew they were benefactors, gifted by a miracle, and you had seen their faces painted on the mural, but that was about it. You hoped that maybe the party would help you ease into the Encanto lifestyle, but so far you had been too shy to approach anyone with anything other than comments about the weather.

You were watching the dancers, your mind half made about going home, when a voice startled you.

"Hey, mamita. ¿Qué hubo?"

The owner of the voice was a skinny man with unruly hair and a green ruana that sat beside you confidently. His legs were spread wide, the right one almost touching yours. His hands were sitting on his thighs. His elbows pointed outwards as he leaned towards you, taking up all the space in the fountain like it belonged to him. You stared in silence for a few seconds, bewildered.

"What? Cat got your tongue? I get that all the time." He said, brushing his curls away from his face as he winked at you. He offered you a handshake, and even that kind gesture felt entitled. "Bruno Madrigal. You've probably seen the paintings."

You shook his hand in silence because you were sincerely out of words. You wanted to make friends at the party, true, but Bruno was clearly after something else entirely. You weren't sure you wanted the same thing. Your eyes scanned the bags under his eyes, his strong nose and his soft jawline, covered with a hint of stubble. He was cute, at least. You gave him your name and he pulled your hand towards his lips, kissing your knuckles.

"Beautiful, just like the rest of you." He stated, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Huh. Thanks." You hoped you weren't blushing. "Sorry... To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Bruno shook his head and his curls waved adorably. He was still holding your hand.

"You have nothing to be sorry about. Excepto, quizás... stealing my heart?"

He was inching closer by the second. You tried to move further away without seeming rude.

"Uh..."

He pressed his index finger against your lips and shushed you.

"Shhhh... Don't speak. You might spoil it."

That unwanted contact was the final straw that triggered your anxiety. Between fight or flight, you chose both. You slapped Bruno and stormed away from the party, leaving behind the whispers of the townsfolk and passing Alma on your way out. She had been watching her son's attempts to woo you with fondness, but after your outburst she knew some discipline was required.

With a few long strides, Alma snaked through the crowd and grabbed 'Bruno' by the ear, lifting him up from where he sat and raising her hand, threatening to slap him again.

"What was that?" She scolded him sternly.

'Bruno' held his swollen cheek protectively, trying to calm her down.

"Ay, it's not what it looks like! I can explain!" He attempted.

"Oh, you will. We're going straight to la Casita."

She finally let go of him and started walking towards her home, not bothering to check if her son was behind her. 'Bruno' followed suit, torn between the fear he felt for Alma's anger and the fear he felt for Mirabel's reaction to him messing up the plan.

As soon as they were far enough from the party, Camilo shifted back to himself and called his abuela. She turned around and examined him, not willing to show any emotion besides anger.

"So it's even worse than I thought. You've embarrased your poor uncle in front of the whole town." She stated.

Camilo wanted to die. Was that how Bruno had felt through his whole childhood? No wonder the poor man was living in the walls.

He gulped.

"I-it's... Yes."

"Are you satisfied? Tomorrow you will apologize to that woman in front of everyone. No discussion."

Camilo tried to protest, but Alma was having none of it. She cut all of his attempts with the expertise of a mother who has raised triplets. Just when he was about to give up, Mirabel caught up with them, out of breath from running.

"Stop! St- Stop! I asked him to do it!" She explained, wheezing.

Alma blinked slowly, taking the confession in.

"What are you saying, mija?"

Mirabel, que Dios la bendiga, explained everything, from her uncle's sudden infatuation to her plan to get you two together. She explained how Camilo had been eager to help Bruno get close to someone who wasn't a Madrigal, and how the only issue had been with his flirting skills. Her cousin didn't have the strength to fight the allegations, nodding along to everything she said until Alma raised a hand and commanded her to stop.

"So this was a ruse to help Brunito with the seamstress?" She asked.

Both teenagers nodded sadly. Their plan had failed catastrophically.

Alma, however, didn't see it that way. She liked the girl, that was partially why she had been angry at first. The seamstress was reserved, kind and artistically inclined. A great fit for Bruno, in her eyes. Maybe the kids had stirred the pot a bit too much but she felt that, with the right steps, Bruno could have a chance at happiness and have someone take care of him when she was no longer around.

"Bueno." She finally said. "We will put this nonsense behind us quietly. I will write to the girl and invite her over for dinner as soon as possible."

Mirabel pumped her fist, biting her lip to avoid squeeing. Camilo sighed in relief.

Alma raised her index finger, warning them. "Pero you're the ones who will tell your tío about what happened today. He has to know what he's working with, and right now the poor girl probably despises him."

Both teenagers shrunk at the perspective of telling their uncle that they had ruined his chances with the seamstress for the time being, but they agreed it was a fair punishment.

With a new resolution to find love for Bruno, the three Madrigals headed home, plotting their scheme along the way.

Back there, in la Casita, Bruno laid awake in his hammock thinking about a world where you forced yourself into his life and remained by his side despite his many flaws. Like that was possible.

Chapter Text

Bruno woke up to a beautiful morning. The birds were chirping outside, sunlight peeked gently through a gap in the curtains and the smell of breakfast filled the air. He threw on his everyday clothes with no care whatsoever and launched himself down the stairs, thinking about nothing but his sisters's arepas con quesito and a fresh cup of coffee. Very relieving thoughts, compared to last night.

His mind's obsession with you had receeded. He was sure it wouldn't be long before he could move on with his life scatheless. He felt light, almost like he was floating on his way to the table.

Around him, his family went on with their daily routines, saying a quick 'hola' whenever they crossed paths. Very normal. Very homely.

Bruno was a late riser, so when he sat down at his usual spot there usually was little food left. No arepas, he noticed sadly, but a small bowl of migas de arepa and some frijoles. He fixed his plate, determined to make the most of the day, and gently measured the perfect beans to migas proportion for his first spoonful. Just as he was about to start eating, a sudden BANG made him drop the spoon's contents on his own lap.

"Mierda." He sighed.

"What did you say?" Asked Mirabel, appearing suddenly by his side.

His niece barely startled him. He was focused on cleaning his ruana.

"I said 'miércoles'. As in 'today is miércoles'." Answered Bruno absentmindedly.

Mirabel chuckled. She took the full plate away from him and gave it to her mother, who was passing on her way to the kitchen with a pile of dirty dishes to wash. Bruno followed his sister with his eyes, watching the migas de arepa disappear on their way to the trash. He sighed deeply and laced his fingers together.

"And there goes my breakfast. Now you have my full attention." He smiled fondly at the girl, despite having lost his food.

"Good, because abuela just arrived with some news." Said Mirabel, leaning on the table with fake nonchalantness.

"Am I going to like them?" Asked Bruno.

Mirabel nodded.

"¡Sí! Y mucho."

"Okay then, dime."

"The seamstress is coming for dinner!"

Bruno didn't react at all. His gaze was lost somewhere on the walls, and all he could hear was a high-pitched whistle. His own mother had invited you for dinner. The betrayal was unfathomable.

Mirabel was retelling the conversation between you and her abuela, gesturing wildly like it was some sort of epic tale and not a simple dinner invitation. Except it wasn't a simple dinner invitation. Alma wasn't one to do things lightly. She must have noticed something, maybe in the few seconds he had spent taking in your beauty, and she wouldn't let go of it until it was either a reality or a scientific impossibility.

In other words: there was no getting rid of you if Alma was playing matchmaker.

He really would have to do something about his hair, wouldn't he.

Alma's visit to your house had been a welcome surprise. She always treated you with kindness. You knew the dinner invitation was probably some sort of repayment after the party's events, but you were eager to make some friends. Alma's daughters were well liked in Encanto. They would probably be easy to talk to, despite your usual awkwardness.

You thought about Bruno's filtratious demeanor the previous night and cringed internally. You would see him at the dinner, since the guy lived in la Casita. Maybe he had some errands to run or something, anything that kept him away from you, but you knew it was unlikely.

You decided to wear your second best dress to pay your respects to the Madrigals, but you wouldn't put a lot of effort into looking pretty. Maybe that way Bruno would stay clear of you.

Mirabel knocked on Camilo's door and immediately barged in without waiting for an answer. Her cousin was reading a book, laying in bed upside down with his feet resting on top of the headboard. He barely reacted.

"Hey, primita. Qué hubo." He didn't even stop reading to greet her. Mirabel, hands on her hips, tapped her foot. Camilo ignored that as well.

"Have you talked to our tío?" She finally asked.

"No. And neither should you." He replied, licking his finger to turn the page.

Mirabel rolled her eyes. They had been tasked with apologizing to Bruno by their abuela, and she wasn't a fan of disobedience. Camilo was, however. Mirabel was always the one who pulled him to the right path.

"Really? Could you elaborate on why you want our abuela to commit manslaughter?"

"There's a good reason this time, you know." Camilo closed his book, finally looking at Mirabel. "Have you seen tío Bruno today?"

Mirabel recalled seeing him a couple times, once brushing his hair obsessively and the second time mumbling something about not finding his good shoes, the ones he was holding. On both occasions he looked like he was on the verge of tears.

"Yeah, why?" She responded.

"Did he look happy? Was he okay?"

He most definitely did not. But what did that have to do with anything?

"No." Started Mirabel. "But what does that-"

Camilo stopped her, gesturing calmly with his open palms.

"He can barely talk to her as it is. Do you think knowing she hates him is going to make the situation better?" He explained like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Mirabel's mouth opened slightly in realization. Of course they couldn't tell tío Bruno. He would be unable to meet your eye for the rest of his life. He had hidden on the walls for ten years because he thought his FAMILY didn't like him. People who were genetically obligated to love him.

Then the potential flaws of the situation exploded on her mind like fireworks. What if somebody brought it up? What if she tried to talk about it? What if he introduced himself again and she told him? But Camilo must've read her mind because he trew the book at her, breaking her chain of thought.

"¡Ay! ¡Gonorrea!" Swore Mirabel, rubbing the sore spot on her shoulder.

"Language!" Camilo grinned at his cousin's display of bad manners. "I wanted to stop you from spiraling. I've got everything under control, primita. You can rest easy."

'Yeah, like last time.' Thought Mirabel.

She pointer her finger at Camilo in a gesture that meant 'you better', and turned around to leave. As she was stomping out of the room, however, Camilo called her name. She turned around to find him pointing at the floor.

"Could you pass me the book, por favor? ¡Gracias!" He said, feigning innocence.

Mirabel passed him the book, missing his head for a few inches. She left Camilo's room feeling even more concerned for tío Bruno than she was before.

You were ready to leave the house and head to la Casita. You had been ready for half an hour. You mentally checked everything on you preparations list again, even though you knew it was all done: you had gathered some fancy fabrics as a thank you gift, your hair looked good, your skin was clear and you smelled great. All that was left was getting though the short walk to their house, then through the dinner and then through the rest of your life in the town they practically ruled. You felt like you were meeting royalty.

When you opened the door to leave, a small piece of paper folded in half fell from the space between the door and its frame. You picked it up cautiously. It was directed towards you.

Leaving the rolls of fabric on a chair, you opened the note and scanned its contents.

¡Hola!

My name is Camilo Madrigal. Alma, my abuela, has invited you for dinner tonight, and I think it's only fair to tell you about the situation before you find yourself in it with no context.

Yesterday you met my tío Bruno, and from what I saw it didn't go well. Please, don't bring up the subject. He's very ashamed and regretful. I doubt he will even meet your eye, since he doesn't take well to rejection. He has a lot of childhood trauma that he's currently working though, but deep down he's a good man.

See you soon!

Camilo

You read the note twice, three times, trying to decide what to feel. They didn't want you to talk about Bruno and the party. You didn't intend to bring it up in the first place, but all that fuss made you want to ask. And Bruno didn't take well on rejection? Well, he'd better get used to it if you were going to visit often.

You didn't want to dwell on the last part, about Bruno's childhood trauma. That was just an oddly personal thing to tell a stranger. That Camilo probably gave his parents a hell of trouble.

Stuffing the letter in your pocket, you grabbed the rolls of fabric and closed the door behind you. You made a mental note to show it to Bruno. You didn't like him, but he deserved to know that his nephew was airing his secrets. If he was as good of a man as Camilo said, he would go easy on him anyway.

Chapter Text

Everyone in la Casita was busy. Alma had given instructions to make the dinner absolutely perfect, and between getting dressed, setting the table and preparing the food, nobody had time to pay attention to Bruno. He himself didn't have time to think, alternating between tying his hair on a ponytail and pulling at the string that kept it together, messing it up again. It was like his hands were moving on its own.

He sat near the entry, trying to keep his breath under control. The clock was ticking. You'd arrive soon. Would he have enough time to pee for the fifth time before you knocked on the door?

"I can't do this." He whispered.

"Can't do what?" Asked Mirabel, popping out of thin air.

Bruno jumped, clutching his chest. That kid was going to give him a heart attack one day. Maybe her gift was creeping up on people.

"La madre que... Mirabel, could you stop doing that?"

The girl just smiled and gave him a once-over, evaluating his look. She fixed his hair, his shirt and his ruana, pulling here and there to get rid of the wrinkles. Mirabel had some great motherly qualities. Bruno felt so immature next to her sometimes.

"You look great!" She encouraged him. "Why don't you ask Hernando what he would do?"

"Hernando is also scared." Stated Bruno.

It was true. He could (and had) faced dangerous situations before, but never the prospect of emotional intimacy.

Mirabel looked at him with a mix of pity and affection. She patted his arm.

"Hey, just do what comes natural. Talk to her like you would talk to me."

Bruno chuckled.

"That's what women love, when a man acts like their uncle."

Mirabel was about to answer when Julieta called her to the kitchen. She left hurriedly, leaving Bruno alone with his thoughts again.

"Keep it up!" She yelled over her shoulder before disappearing around the corner.

He tried to keep it up, but he just saw no good outcomes. Either you liked him back or you didn't, and he wasn't ready for any of those prospects. He could always pretend to be sick whenever you came to visit. His mother would eventually catch the message and stop inviting you, probably...

The doorbell rang ominously. You had arrived.

"Brunito, open the door!" Commanded Alma from upstairs.

Of course Brunito had to greet you. Mamá wouldn't have it any other way. Shuffling his feet, he made his way to the door as slowly as he could. Turning the knob felt like a death sentence. The weight in his chest started burning. Would he be able to say 'hola'? Or would he trip on his own words and make a fool of himself? The thoughts piled up, giving him no room to breathe.

However, when he finally opened the door, he felt relief. It was just you, even prettier from up close.  Warm, sweet, soft you. All the anxiety melted away like snow in the spring, and the twists of his stomach turned to bubbles. He wan't nervous anymore. He was excited to see you. You smiled at him, kind and welcoming.

"¡Hola!" You greeted, and your voice was like the song of a stream in the jungle. "Just the man I wanted to talk to. Do you have a moment before we come in?"

Bruno nodded enthusiastically. He had the rest of his life to spend next to you if you wanted. It was your aura, had to be. You were just so comfortable to be around. He felt ready for everything, to be your friend, to be your lover, to be whatever you needed. He followed you outside like a puppy.

"So, I know we haven't talked much..." You started. "But I kinda feel like I know you? I don't like making assumptions, but... I get your deal."

You got his deal. Nobody got his deal. Bruno felt so special.

"I- I feel the same way." He managed to say. His heart was beating so fast. Everything was going way faster than he thought it would.

"Good! Good... You're probably wrong, but... Yeah. And I know we don't like each other, but-"

Wait. You didn't? Bruno tried to remember when that happened, but he couldn't recall any interactions apart from staring at you at the party. And he would remember, right?

"We- don't?"

You opened and closed your mouth, bewildered.

"No, Bruno. We obviously don't. You were a creep."

Bruno's world came tumbling down. So you had noticed him staring. And thought he was creepy. He physically shrunk himself as much as he could, crossing his arms protectively in front of his chest. His anxiety was back.

"Ah... Eh... Yeah, I'm so sorry." He stuttered.

You dismissed his apology with a flick of your wrist.

"I didn't want to talk about that. Your nephew sent me a note, saying you were sorry and something about your childhood trauma. I just wanted to tell you, in case you needed to talk to him... about boundaries with strangers."

Bruno wasn't paying attention anymore. He mumbled something he hoped sounded like a agreement.

You thought he was creepy. He should have known. He was so concerned with the possibility of you two becoming friends that he forgot he was universally disliked. Why did he ever think you'd be an exception? Just because you were new in town? The problem was clearly him, not the stories.

Your small, soft hand, tapped his. He raised his eyes to meet your concerned ones.

"Are you there?" You asked.

Bruno wanted to answer, but his confidence was gone. He made a strangled noise and nodded.

Without exchanging another word, the man walked back to the house. You followed him in silence, wondering how the confident ladies man that harassed you at the party the night before could have turned into a stuttering mess.

The dinner was, generally, a success. You got along beautifully with Julieta and Pepa, and everyone found you charming and delightful. Alma gushed over the expensive fabrics you brought, commissioning a dress for each of her granddaughters. The kids were also fun to be around, although two of them (Camilo and Mirabel, maybe?) gave you side looks all the time.

Bruno was a problem, but you expected him to be. You even tried to talk to him a couple times, asking him about his pet rats and what he liked to do in his free time, but he only responded with non-committal hums. You really wanted to start your relationship with the Madrigals on a clean slate. When you mentioned needing a guide to explore the jungle around town, Alma offered Bruno, and he choked on his food and excused himself.

What a weird man, that Bruno. You had slapped him the night before but he didn't seem mad at you. He seemed terrified. You had never seen such a reaction towards you, since you always tried to make everyone feel comfortable and keep conversations light and fun. He was still handsome, maybe more so without his self-assuredness.

Before you got to dessert, you were sure you wanted to know more about him.

When you finally left the house, you asked Alma to wait so you could write a note for Bruno. She had the brightest smile on her face when she promised to hand it to him as soon as possible.

Hola, Bruno.

I would like to talk to you. I really liked spending time with your family, and I don't want any tensions between us. Please, write back and let's arrange something. Don't get your hopes up! 

"WHAT? THAT'S WHAT THE NOTE WAS ABOUT?"

Bruno waited until the dinner was over to confront Camilo about the note he sent you. What he didn't expect was to find out that his nephew had impersonated him to flirt with you, with terrible consequences.

"I wanted to tell you, but you were too nervous already. I'm sorry, tío Bruno." Camilo apologized over and over, shrinking under his uncle's anger.

Bruno wasn't good with discipline, but he had seen his mother give enough scoldings to retain the mannerisms. He pointed at Camilo with both of his hands closed in a pinch gesture that said 'I'm on my last nerve'.

"You will be the death of me! Now she thinks I'm... No, she thinks YOU'RE a creep."

Secretly, he was relieved you hadn't noticed him staring. Camilo's teenage flirting skills took the blame off him, and gave him confidence. He still didn't know how to solve the situation, but at least it wasn't his behaviour that drove you away.

Camilo stuttered.

"B-but she was nice to you at dinner! We can explain and-"

Bruno cut him off with a deadly stare. Camilo shrunk back against the wall of the hallway.

"I can't even look at her. How on Earth am I supposed to tell her that my shapeshifting nephew decided to play matchmaker? That's-"

"I can talk to her!" Exclaimed Camilo.

"You've done enough talking, señorito!" Replied Bruno.

"No, what I mean is..." Camilo slowly took his uncle's shape. "I can talk to her as you. Just tell me what to say and I'll fix this. I promise I won't go off script."

Bruno thought about it for a second. He didn't trust his nephew one bit, but he knew he wouldn't be able to utter a word in your direction until the situation was well behind him.

However, how could he make sure Camilo said exactly what he would?

He had an idea. A bad idea, but an idea nonetheless.

"Has your mother taught you about el idioma de los niños?" He asked.

El idioma de los niños was a secret sign language that he and his sisters had invented when they were little to talk behind Alma's back. If Camilo knew it, Bruno would be able to give him precise instructions on what to say to you in real time.

Camilo nodded.

"Since I was little. We all know it."

Bruno sighed.

"Okay. But you will say exactly what I tell you, understood?"

Camilo's smile got wider. He had gotten away with everything once again.

Chapter Text

You hated waking up early, but you had to. Being a business owner in a small village was nothing like the quaint life you had imagined. The only seamstress in town had many orders, repairs and small adjustments to make, and you found yourself working until late at night and opening your shop right after the sunrise, which meant you spent the day trying not to fall asleep.

At that point it was almost midday. Your eyes felt heavy. Your stomach was empty. You had been working for several hours and decided to take a small break.

You stretched, popping your back, and rubbed your sore fingers against the wood of your working table. You didn't feel like cooking. Maybe you could walk to the market and get some empanadas?

Just when you set your mind to it, someone knocked on the door. Another client, probably.

"Come in!" You yelled, picking up the needle.

Bruno's voice answered.

"Uh... Could we talk outside?"

Hm. So he had received your note. You stuck the needle in the fabric you were embroidering and checked your reflection in the small mirror that hung next to your front door. It was a one room house, so you had little opportunity of hiding the mess your work created. You opened the door slightly, just enough to show your face.

Bruno was looking nervously to his left. He jumped when you appeared, switching his attention to you.

"Hey! So... I got your... note?" He spoke cautiously, like he wasn't sure what came next.

You smiled reassuredly.

"Either that or you wanted to commission another dress. What do you think?"

"Eh..." He looked to his left again. You followed his eyes, but there was nothing there. "I came here to apologize. And I think I have prepared something? For you. To... prove I'm sorry."

You raised your eyebrows. Sneaky.

"So you came to apologize and to ask me out? And here I thought I was wrong with you." You teased playfully.

Bruno choked on his own spit. If you didn't know better, you'd think he was hiding a chuckle. His eyes went to his left again before answering.

You definitely liked him a lot more when he was nervous. It felt sincere, like he had nothing to hide. You liked honesty and humility, and even though your first impression of Bruno had been anything but, during the dinner with his family you had spotted a certain softness that you were interested in.

"No, sorry. I've heard great things about you and I'd like to... be friends? Lame!" He whispered that last part, but you still heard it.

You crossed your arms in front of your chest.

"What's so lame about being friends, huh?" You asked in a more serious tone.

Bruno went pale. He started shaking his head, his curls bouncing everywhere.

"No, no, I was thinking to myself. Shall we go? Please?"

He was eager. You smiled and nodded, closing the door behind you and offering him your arm. He doubted for a second before taking it, looking at that same point to his left like he wanted to die.

His arm was strong but skinny. You couldn't feel his skin through the coarse material of his shirt, but it looked soft.

"Bueno, Bruno." You started walking together. "Where exactly are you taking me?"

"Eh, I'm not-" His eyes looked everywhere but you. They finally set on a big ceramic pot, the one that held a bush that was shaped conveniently like a person. "To the jungle. I have... a picnic prepared."

"A picnic! That's good, I'm hungry." You replied. 

"I've also made you something! Here." Said Bruno, handing you a small wooden carving. It was a rough version of you, smiling and waving.

You stared at the little sculpture in disbelief. Why didn't he start there? He could have swept you off your feet in a second, but he decided to get all macho. Men were weird.

"This is lovely. When did you do this?" You asked.

"Apparently, yesterday." Answered Bruno. "He- I mean I like to carve wood. Did it all the time when I... lived on the walls."

Lived on the walls? Was that some sort of endemical expression that you were unaware of?

"What does that mean?" You asked.

"Eh..." Bruno searched his surroundings again. He didn't seem to find whatever he was looking for. "It's... literally what happened. I lived in the walls of my house for ten years. Until fairly recently."

You thought you heard someone swear in the distance. You quickly turned around, but saw nothing.

"Did you hear that?"

Bruno smiled widely, pulling softly on your arm. He looked a bit less tired when he smiled, you noticed. Younger.

"¡No! Not a peep! Let's go."

You followed him, growing suspicious. But it was hard to keep your guard up when faced with your curiosity. You asked him many questions about his family, his house and his miracle, and he responded in the same slow, deliberate way he had been talking before, like he was getting cues from offstage. He seemed shy, but he had a cinical sense of humour. You found his jokes very clever.

"Are we there yet? I didn't know the plan was to go trekking." You teased.

His eyes searched the jungle and settled back on the ground. "We're almost there. It's just past that jaguar on the tree."

You slapped his shoulder playfully. By the time you finally reached the picnic, you had developed a soft spot for Bruno.

And what a lovely picnic it was. Bruno had filled a basket with food and drinks, and a bunch of flowers for you. The blanket was soft and thick, great to sit on. And the sights... He had picked the perfect spot, by the waterfall but not too close, so you could talk easily without the noise engulfing your words.

That was not a friendly date. That was a date-date. But you were... okay with that.

"Mirabel told me you like arepas con quesito as well. So I brought more of those." He offered.

"Sí, gracias. Oye, Bruno..." You started. "Do you take all your friends on romantic picnics near the waterfall?"

Bruno's eyes seemed to pop off his skull. He snorted loudly.

"Wha- OH! Sorry, eh... yes? What? No!" He stumbled over his words, trying to hold back his laughter with his gaze lost somewhere in the jungle. "I... wanted to do something nice. For you."

You chuckled as well.

"The carving was nice. You're really good, you know?"

"Well... thank you! Maybe that's my real gift. I'm trying to find alternatives."

"How come?"

He scratched his neck, staring at a bush behind you, lost in thought.

"Seeing the future has brought me... a lot of pain. People talked. Saying I was an agorero, ominous. Evil."

You tapped his hand gently.

"I don't think you're evil. Maybe a bit self-centered, but..."

"We can talk about you!" He rushed to reply. "I mean, Mirabel has told me some things, but I'd love to hear them again."

You told him a bit about your life, how you learned your trade and why you moved to Encanto. You spoke freely about your insecurities, how you didn't feel you fit in with the people yet. From behind the bush, the real Bruno thought you were so brave for sharing all of that. He gestured for Camilo to pat your back, and he took the liberty of patting your head instead, which made you smile.

"Well, this compensates the fact that you called me 'mamita." You teased.

"Hey! That usually works!" Said the Bruno you were talking to, now offended.

You raised your eyebrows.

"What do you mean by 'usually'? You flirt a lot?" You feigned innocence, but your words were cold.

"I- I mean. My nephew, Camilo, told me that usually works. I know nothing of women. I'm a hermit."

You heard a distant scream, and some birds flew from a bush next to the waterfall. You immediately stood up.

"W- what was that?"

But Bruno stood up as well, making you turn around with him.

"Nothing, probably! In fact, we should go!"

"But the food..."

"Take it! You still have work to do, no? I'll walk you home!"

You started to put everything back in the basket reticently, with Bruno's help. Just as you were about to leave, he stopped you.

"Wait. I have something else to say."

You were confused.

"But I thought you wanted to leave..."

"I do, but also, I have something to say." He looked around nervously again. "I wanted to tell you I think you're very nice and very interesting. My niece speaks wonders of you."

Bruno seemed really uncomfortable. He crossed and uncrossed his arms, rubbed his hair and puffed his cheeks. You held his hand in reassurance.

"Hey, you know were to find me." You smiled.

His eyes darted somewhere behind you before smiling back.

"I might start wearing dresses just to see you more often." He said.

Camilo, now back to being himself, paced his uncle's room wringing his hands.

"What the hell was that, tío? I thought we were gonna tell her!"

It was Bruno's turn to receive a scolding. He knew he deserved it.

"I know! But I got carried away. I felt so comfortable without all the pressure." He excused himself poorly.

Camilo threw his hands over his head.

"Pressure! You've got me going on dates with your girlfriend! And what was that about the dresses and... and the jaguar?"

"She laughed! And what do you mean 'dates'? It was a friendly picnic!" He replied.

Camilo sat down, hiding his face in his hands. How could his uncle turn a bad situation into an even worse situation? He was an adult. He was supposed to fix his mistakes, not make them worse.

"Tío, it was NOT a friendly picnic. She was giving me the eyes. I know the eyes." Sighed the teenager. "What do we do now?"

"Well... we said we would see her again." Tried Bruno.

Camilo jumped at the suggestion.

"No, YOU said you would see her again. I've paved the way, now you follow the road."

"But I CAN'T. Not yet. I need more time." Bruno complained, trying to hide his shaky hands under his old ruana. "Just... two more dates? Can you do that? And then I'll step in, I swear."

Camilo looked at his tío with annoyance. He did owe him at least two more dates. He sighed and offered him his hand to seal the deal.

"Two more." He said, shaking on it.

You grabbed your materials and headed to la Casita de los Madrigal with light steps, thinking about how sweet Bruno had seemed during your walk through the jungle.

It was late in the evening, but you had finished patterning the dresses for Dolores and Mirabel by eye. It was just a first rough draft so you could make adjustments on them before the final version, but since there was still a bit of time before dinner you decided take the patterns to la Casita and measure them on the spot.

You reminisced how he had helped with the dishes the night before, how tenderly he had been talking to his family. There was a caring man inside there, somewhere. Maybe he was too nervous to show you, but you were sure you could get him to open up with time.

At least he was done with the whole lying about himself.

You walked lost in thought, picturing different situations. You would craft him a new ruana, a fancy one that he could wear to important events. He would be so happy, he might even hug you. You weren't sure you were on hugging terms yet. Somehow that felt more personal than the whole date you'd just been to, but maybe someday you'd feel comfortable holding his face between your hands. It was up to him, really. He was the one who had something to prove.

Without noticing, you had arrived to la Casita. You knocked softly. Now that you knew Dolores was sensitive to loud noises, you would try to be careful.

She must've warned her family in advance, because the second your knuckles left the wood, a very flustered Bruno opened the door.

"Uh... hola." He almost whispered.

"¡Hola! I'm sorry, I'm here for business, not for pleasure. Could I see Dolores and Mirabel? I need to take measurements."

Bruno nodded, swallowing saliva. The second you walked inside the entryway, you saw every Madrigal rushing to hide in their rooms. Camilo's face was still peeking through the banister. He gave you a thumbs up.

"What did I miss?" You asked Bruno.

He shrugged, hiding his hands between the folds of his ruana. He was acting pretty weird as well.

You hummed. Dolores must've told everyone about the date, and they were probably giving Bruno a hard time. You didn't want to say the wrong thing, but you wanted to show Bruno he had nothing to be scared about. You grabbed his hand confidently.

"Well, take me to the girls. I wouldn't want to delay everyone's dinner."

Bruno was pale like a corpse, but he nodded again. His hand felt limp around yours at first, but as you walked up the stairs the hold got firmer, even giving you an encouraging squeeze that you returned.

He felt like he was going to faint when he stopped in front of Dolores' room.

"So here's the... eh... yeah." He muttered.

"Okay! Thank you so much!" You tried to walk, but he wasn't letting go of your hand. You pulled awkwardly a couple times. "Uh... My..."

Bruno jumped, letting go of you like it burned his skin.

"Yeah! Sorry! Dumb." He blurted, laughing awkwardly.

You smiled at him, waving before entering the girl's room with your equipment in clutch.

"So." You started. "Who's first?"

The girls were all right. They asked many questions about you and Bruno, some of them very unnerving. Dolores went on a long tangent about the end justifying the means in love and war, while Mirabel told you how brave Bruno had been in saving the house and the family. You knew they were trying to set you two up, but since the man had turned out to be pretty sweet you were okay with that.

You finished measuring pretty quickly, and said your goodbyes as they pleaded with you to stay for dinner. You refused kindly, not wanting to overstay your welcome.

When you opened the door, Bruno was standing right where you had left him.

"Mamá has set a plate for you. She's not taking no for an answer." He said right away, offering his hand with a blank stare and red cheeks.

You took it, chuckling lightly.

"Tell her I'm very honored, but I really can't. I'm behind on my work. Walk me to the door, señorito?"

He nodded. You saw the ghost of a shy smile in his lips. Even though his eyes couldn't focus on you, they were still soft and tender. It was like you had seen three different Brunos in two days.

He walked you downstairs as slowly as he could, but you eventually arrived to the front door. He remembered to let go of your hand this time.

"Well, see you soon." He was scrutinizing the hell out of his sandals. You wanted him to look at you, but you didn't know how to say it without being weird.

After a short pause, you turned around to leave.

"Bye!" You said quickly.

"Wait!" Bruno stopped you, holding your arm.

He was looking at you straight in the eyes. He scanned your face like he wanted to remember it forever. His brows quirked upwards, longingly. You just stood there, feeling shy under his gaze.

"See you soon." He finally said. "Take care."

"I... I will." You replied.

You were sure Dolores could hear your heart beating as you left the premises. On the other side of the door, Bruno asked Camilo for a glass of water and a chair to sit down.

"Two dates." He whispered. "I'm begging you. My heart..."

Camilo nodded, patting his back.

"Two dates. But you did great, tío. For real."

Chapter Text

Bruno's morning went by as usual, but his mind was filled with unusual thoughts. Very unusual, for many reasons.

Much like the rest of the people in Encanto, he had never considered himself as an eligible bachelor, a potential husband or a father. Loneliness was a given, it came with the job, and he had never entertained any other way of life. Similarly, having the power to literally see into the future left him little room to wonder about things. If he wanted to know something, he found out, simple as that.

However, since meeting you, he couldn't stop picturing a future together, a future he didn't know because he didn't dare look.

He wondered what you'd say if he were to propose. He wondered what you'd look like in the morning, waking up next to him. He wondered what names you'd pick for your children. If they'd have gifts like him, and if they'd be as brave as you.

You had taken his hand with such confidence and dignity, like it was only natural. You felt his nervousness and reassured him without batting an eyelash. Not the copy of him that could actually talk to you, but the awkward fifty year old that talked to rats and had turned out to be, to his surprise, a hopeless romantic.

Bruno just knew he would be able to face anything for the rest of his life as long as you were by his side, squeezing his hand back and showing him that, in the face of fear, one can only be confident.

After that first date, he had decided you weren't the scary spooky bringer of chaos he thought you'd be. You were kind, nice and welcoming. There was a new reason why he still avoided taking you on a real date: he was terrified of driving you away.

He knew he could make you laugh and keep a conversation going, but the previous night had proved to him that words didn't just come out of one's mouth when one needed them to. He needed more time.

But on the other hand, he wanted to feel your warmth again, as soon as posible. He paced around the entryway, wondering if it was a little too soon to ask you out again.

He very obviously needed Camilo's advice.

"¡Tío! There you are!"

For once, Camilo's voice didn't startle Bruno. It felt more like a summoning, brought by desperation and, maybe, the magic of la Casita.

The boy cheerfully waved before trotting downstairs to meet his uncle, stomping his leather sandals on the wood with abandon. Bruno flinched at the loud noise.

"¡Camilo, be discreet!" He whispered.

"What the-?" Asked Camilo. He stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the man. "Are you under the delusion that Dolores' hasn't heard us yet? You think Mirabel doesn't know? Or our abuela?"

It was Bruno's turn to be confused. He knew Dolores must've heard something, for granted, but how did his mother and his favourite niece come to the conclussion that Camilo had been helping him flirt with you?

"They know?"

"Of course they know! Dolores and Mirabel have enough dresses. Why would they commission another one when Mirabel knows how to sew?" Explained the boy.

Bruno pondered the information, but quickly shook the thoughts from his head. They had more important matters at hand.

"I have... I need to ask you something." He started. "You might think it's weird to get advice from you, because I'm an adult and you're a kid, but I've been out of the loop for a while and it's hard to get used to the subtleties and complexities of female-"

Camilo cut him off, lifting his palms towards him as if he was calming a wild horse.

"You can ask later. We're going to get the seamstress right now."

"Right now?"

"¡Sí!" Camilo transformed into Bruno (or Bru-dos as Bruno had started to call it mentally) and started pulling him towards the door unceremoniously. The real Bruno barely mustered enough energy to scoff in disbelief.

"Love is like a steak." Explained his nephew. "Reheating does nothing, you have to eat it right out of the grill."

"Oh... See, that answers my question." Said Bruno. "In a way."

It was the second time Bruno saw himself knocking on your door, and he looked just as out of place as he did the first time.

His ratty clothes, short stature and grim features were in stark contrast with the rustic homeliness of your front porch. He looked like a skinny silent hermit, standing between two rows of colourful ceramic pots with blooming cacti, next to a carved rocking chair and a small, blue watering can.

Camilo's demeanor did brighten up the scene, at least. He threw a thumbs up in his uncle's direction right before you opened the door.

Your lashes hid your eyes as you squinted at the sudden change in lighting. Your soft hand moved upwards to offer you some shade, so you could at least open one of your eyes. Your nose wrinkle adorably.

You looked radiant. He made sure Bru-dos told you that, and your smile made Bruno's chest flutter.

"Flattery will take you anywhere!" You playfully smacked Bru-dos in the shoulder with the rag you were holding.

'She cleans her house...', Bruno thought dreamily. Somehow that felt like a very important quality when you did it, instead of the bare minimum.

"How may I help you today? Another romantic picnic or just dinner with your whole family?" You teased, leaning on your doorframe.

Bru-dos, directed by Bruno's gestures, showed you the basket with a soft smile, confirming your suspicions.

"Thought you wouldn't feel like cooking, but if you prefer dinner with my whole family I can eat this while you watch." He teased back, sticking to the indications.

You laughed openly.

"Well! Tell me my fortune. Are we going on a picnic?" You asked.

You were already grabbing a straw hat from behind your front door, so the answer must have been obvious to you. To Bruno, the fact that you wanted to go on a picnic with him again was in doubt, even as he watched you do so. He gave Bru-dos some more instructions from his hiding spot.

Bru-dos pretended to think deeply for a moment.

"I see you getting very sick from eating too many arepas." He finally said.

"Really? Maybe I should just let you eat all of them, to be safe." You stated.

"That's a great idea, actually! Bien pensado."

Bruno was gesturing the answers as fast as he could. He thought he wouldn't be as funny if the conversation got too slow, and 'funny' was pretty much all he could be in his current situation.

However, you didn't seem to mind the small beats of silence or the fact that Bru-dos was constantly looking somewhere else before responding. You linked your arm to Bru-dos' and started walking with him in broad daylight. As if there was nothing shameful about beeing seen with the most disliked man around.

'What a brave woman', thought Bruno for the umpteenth time.

He followed you and Bru-dos at a distance, sneaking around like it was second nature. He never thought he would use that skill in a romantic setting, but hiding in the walls of his house for ten years sure was coming in handy.

Everything was going wonderfully, so far. Just like they had planned.

You finally arrived at a clearing in the jungle, a new location, very different from the last one. Bruno had chosen it because he thought it looked from another planet, and he really wanted to show it to you.

Surrounded by hanging vines and beautiful rock formations, you stood in silence while Bru-dos stretched the blanket.

You took the landscape in with a focused and solemn gaze... and Bruno thought you looked ethereal.

"You know..." You spoke in a quiet voice. "This place makes me feel something."

"How come?" Asked Bru-dos, opening the basket to pull out the food.

Bruno frowned. He hadn't told Camilo to say that, but since he was wondering the same thing, he let it slide.

"Feels like... like we're the last humans alive." You answered.

It did! The atmosphere of the clearing was ominous and quiet, and it made you feel both alone and very much alive. Like you were the main character in a movie. You had such an interesting and vivid imagination. Bruno wanted to know more about the way you saw the word.

Bru-dos snorted.

"We'll have to repopu- ¡Ay! ¡Gonorrea!"

Bruno had thrown a small rock at his nephew's leg and was holding a second one, just in case. He warned the boy with his eyes, receiving a murderous glare in return.

You rapidly snapped out of your trance and approached Bru-dos, worried about him.

"¿Estás bien? Did you hurt yourself?" You asked, scanning the jungle for the source of the projectile.

Bru-dos rubbed his calf, trying to redirect your attention by pointing to the branches of a nearby tree.

"It's nothing... Some bird must've dropped something." He excused himself.

But you didn't look at the tree. You kneeled down and inspected his leg, where a bruise was beginning to form.

"Ay, mi Brunito..." You simply muttered.

Bruno felt the world stop turning. He never knew what insults his nephew mouthed at him while you weren't looking. His eyes were set on you the second you called him your Brunito.

This didn't feel good, like when you laughed at his jokes and he felt rewarded even though he wasn't the one saying them out loud.

It hurt.

Bru-dos wasn't your Brunito, he was. He was the one that prepared the picnic and scrambled to get Bru-dos to reply in time. He was the one that apologized for Camilo's behaviour. He was the one who squeezed your hand last night in la Casita.

He was you Brunito... and he wanted to hear it first hand.

He suddenly felt as stupid as he felt impotent. He could've been in Camilo's place if only he had a fraction of your bravery. You had walked across town holding him like a dear friend, not caring what anyone thought, and he couldn't even get himself to spend an evening with you because he was afraid of what YOU thought. He had been robbed of the opportunity of being your Brunito, and it was his own fault, noone else's.

"I'm- I'm okay." Camilo looked at his uncle, his anger replaced with worry. He could see his eyes had glazed over, lost in thought, and that was never a good sign. "Let's start with the arepas, how about that?"

"Sounds great." You smiled, grabbing two from inside the basket and handing him one.

Conversation went on politely. Bruno's imput was no longer enthusiastic. He watched you eat through a crack in the vines, wondering how many times he would have to go though the same thing before he finally learned the lesson.

Back home, Camilo and Bruno were in Camilo's room for a quick debriefing. They had been sitting in silence for some time, and Camilo was getting impatient. Something was obviously bugging his uncle. Bruno hadn't spoken a single word since they came back.

"I... think it went well." Said Camilo, finally.

His uncle shook his head. He was covering his mouth with his intertwined hands, elbows sinking on his thighs.

"That's your feedback? You're the one that's making me do this, you could at least chime in with a couple ideas."

"Don't remind me."

Bruno's voice was coarse. He cleared his throat before speaking again. His eyes darted towards Camilo nervously and back to the ground, and his leg started bouncing. An anxiety response.

"I'm... I wanted it to be me. But it still can't be me. I'm lost. I'm upset. I'm angry at myself. And I'm scared." He numbered his problems with honesty, more than ever before. Camilo supposed the whole situation had helped them get closer, but it still felt honoring somehow to see his elusive uncle open up emotionally.

He carefully patted the man's arm, trying to comfort him.

"You don't have to rush it if it kills you, tío. But I think it could be good for you. Your comfort zone... kind of sucks, you know?" He attempted.

Bruno looked at him with fondness. His eyebags somehow seemed deeper, but he mustered a tired smile and opened one arm towards his nephew.

"Anda, ven. I've put you though enough, no?" He gave the boy a one armed hug, kissing the top of his head. Camilo was extremely uncomfortable, but he knew better than to say it out loud. "You're only fifteen." Said the man after a short pause. "You should be outside getting in trouble, not helping your uncle go on dates."

"Does that mean I'm free of my side of the deal?" Asked Camilo.

Bruno finally let go of him, but not without ruffling his hair.

"Free as a bird. I'm fifty, for... fudge sake. I will manage."

Camilo wanted to be relieved, but he couldn't. Somewhere along the way, he had gotten invested.

He wanted to see his uncle succeed, and even though he truly thought it was possible... he knew the man needed a bit of help. A lot of help. He had been living in the walls, apart from his family, for ten years, and if it was Camilo's duty to show him he could count on them then he would do it gladly.

"Well... What if I want to keep going?"

Bruno's eyebrows shot upwards alarmedly.

"Don't tell me you've fallen for-"

"What!? No! She's old!" Interrupted Camilo. "No, I just want to support you. How about this... You try to go on the next date and I stay nearby. If you need me to step in, you sign and we switch. When you're ready to go back, we switch again. It's like... a transition date, before you go on your own. So you can get used to it. I know it sounds hard but... we've gotten though worse, right?"

Bruno stared at his nephew with a mix of incredulity and admiration.

"I'm so sorry for what I'm about to say." He whispered.

"What?"

"Dolores, don't take this personally... but Camilo's the smartest Madrigal."

Camilo punched his uncle's shoulder playfully and took a step back before he could be hugged again. As much as he enjoyed the crazy scheming, he honestly couldn't wait for it to be over.

Chapter Text

You munched on your thumbnail while you examined your work critically under different kinds of light. The garment looked flimsy, rushed, like you'd gotten it done in a single sitting after realizing you were dating a very special person that deserved a very special present (exactly the case). To the untrained eye, it was a functional ruana. To your very trained eye, it was a disgrace.

To add insult to injury, you knew how easy it was to make a ruana. The issues were making it look fancy while staying true to Bruno's spirit, making it durable and making absolutely no mistakes. If some day in the future (God forbid) you noticed a single stitch out of place in Bruno's shoulder, you'd lose your mind.

You'd noticed the spot he held in your heart growing by the day, the flames fueled by his very obvious interest and devotion. You thought that knowing there was some reciprocation would make things easier, but it was just as unnerving. Taking the first step felt like your responsability. Chickening out wasn't an option. You were walking the path of love, and you were doing so with such wonderful company that the only possible outcome was growing old together. If confessing your feelings to anyone is a touchy issue in general, imagine doing so when they are husband material.

With a pop and a shaky sigh, you finally stretched your back. It was almost midday. If the previous days were an indication of anything, Bruno would show up soon with a picnic basket and his awkward charm. His awkward, sweet and loving charm, all eyes and curls and stubble. His sense of humour, so clever. His determination to get to know you even when he clearly had no idea what he was doing. His devotion to keeping you well fed.

His knock on the door, just then, that put you into cardiac arrest. 

"One second!" You yelled.

But you needed more than one second. You rushed to hide the ruana inside a basket, fixed your hair in the little mirror by the door and took a few deep breaths. You couldn't hold it in anymore. You knew yourself, and hiding things was not your forte. You were going to tell Bruno you liked him, making that very day the first one of the most fulfilling or soul-crushing love story of your life.

"En el nombre del Padre, del Hijo, y del Espíritu Santo. Amén." You crossed yourself and prayed to every saint you knew. Virgencita, ayúdame, que nunca te pido nada. Please make this work. Please, please, please...

To your left, the slow creak of your door made you jump. Bruno looked at your hands joined in prayer, then at your face, then at the mess around you. Then back at you, in silence.

"I... You weren't answering so..." He started.

You calmly blocked his view of your working space with your body. Your expression wavered just a little.

"I'm ready to leave! Let's go!" You answered, a bit too chirpy.

Bruno offered you a reassuring half smile and opened the door all the way, gently nudging you towards the street.

"Venga. We have a big day ahead of us."

'You have no idea...' You thought.

The strategy was as follows: Camilo as Bru-dos was to take you to la Casita unsupervised. Bruno would be waiting in Camilo's room being very supervised by Mirabel, who was tasked with keeping him calm and encouraging positive thinking. Once you arrived, Bru-dos would leave you waiting in the living room and excuse himself. Bruno would then take his place, inserting himself in the conversation seamlessly and having a great time with you. Piece of cake for the cunning Madrigals.

The first step was going great. You and Bru-dos walked mostly in comfortable silence, asking a few questions about each other's day, both of your minds too busy with your respective plans. The second step was... complicated.

"It's just like when you first met me! You were nervous, but you talked to me just fine." Tried to explain Mirabel.

She had been fixing her uncle's curls for ten minutes to no avail. Bruno was sitting with his back to her, bouncing his right leg and wringing his hands.

The panicked man compulsively licked his lips every few seconds, searching his pockets for the salt and sugar Mirabel had already confiscated.

"When I first met you, you were a baby." He mumbled. "And I didn't talk to you. I fell in a pit and rambled like a madman."

Mirabel sighed.

"I fell on the same pit. That says nothing about a person."

Distracted, she pulled a little too hard at one of Bruno's locks, making him wince. He gently removed his niece's hands from his hair.

"It's not getting better. I've tried." He explained.

Mirabel, with a defeated grunt, started picking up her hair care products as calmly as she could. Defying an old magic prophecy? Easy. Making her uncle's hair look like he didn't just roll out of bed? An unachievable quest. At least now she knew she had limits.

"Maybe I could start with some poetry?" Wondered Bruno, waving his fingers like he was casting a spell. "Deliver monologues, that I can do. And then... then I'll serve some food? Some... Do we have fruit? Fruit is nice. I haven't had a chirimoya in months."

Bruno bit his index finger, lost in thought. He suddenly stood up, pointing at the ceiling like he'd just had the best idea in the world.

"¡Oh! I know! I'll show her my rats! Then she will scream and run away and I won't have to do this ever again!" He stared at Mirabel expectantly, hands proudly on his hips.

The teenager unamusedly handed him his good shoes.

"Are you done? She must be on the doorstep by now." She asked.

"Done? Yes. Ready? No."

Bruno sighed. He grabbed the good shoes. The good shoes could fix anything.

Hopping on one leg and holding onto Mirabel's arm for support, Bruno struggled against the stiff leather of the fancy shoes for a few seconds. Just as he managed to slide into the left one, Dolores knocked on the wall from the adjacent room.

The signal. She had arrived.

Every inch of courage that Bruno had mustered vanished, came back and vanished again. He was as ready as he was ever going to be, but that wasn't saying much. With steady hands, he untied the laces of his right good shoe and put it on. Then, he stood as tall as he was, fists balled.

Time to be brave.

It took five attempts to get Bruno even near the living room. He kept getting to the bottom of the staircase, coming right back up and asking Camilo to take his place. His nephew refused every time, pushing him back to the top of the staircase and closing the door behind him firmly. The sixth time he didn't even answer.

"Camilo! Open up this instant!" Whispered Bruno, pushing his mouth against a little crack near the doorknob. "I swear. You're getting the chancla... Camilo!"

But Camilo, maybe out of conviction, maybe out of his love for mildly upsetting his elders, remained silent.

So Bruno took a deep breath and turned away from the merciless door, ready to face his worst fear... a pretty lady.

He stepped into the living room like it was the death row, but he only saw you smiling brightly at him from the sofa. You were wearing your best set of working clothes, a loose brown dress with light cream embroidery that just so happened to look great on you. His knees threatened to buckle.

"Everything okay? I thought you were ditching me, but then I remembered this is your house." You joked.

All the air had left his lungs. He replied with a noncommital hum.

His legs betrayed him, leading him to the sofa on autopilot and sitting him near you, but nowhere close enough to look casual or relaxed.

If you noticed, you didn't comment on it.

What you did comment on was his change of clothing, pointing at his shoes with a tilt of your pretty head.

"You didn't have to get dressed up. Now I feel underdressed."

Bruno chuckled in disbelief. He stretched his legs to look at his feet. He called them his "good shoes" because the alternative was sandals, but  they really weren't that special.

"Yeah. Shoes." Great, now a sentence. "You look... wow."

You look wow. What a great compliment to make without even glancing in your general direction. Bruno wanted to punch himself.

You laughed anyway, probably because you were polite.

"That makes two of us. I mean... you look pretty wow every day, but those shoelaces really TIE it together."

You were so nice and so funny. Bruno wanted to tell you how amazing you were every day for the rest of your life. He was so focused on your awesomeness that he forgot to laugh at your pun, and then it was too late to laugh. He pondered the pros and cons of throwing in a chuckle or two, risking sounding sarcastic so you didn't feel like your joke wasn't funny.

After a few beats of silence that definitely dragged for too long, he settled on looking back at you.

You didn't return his gaze. You were picking at your nails with shaky hands, your legs crossed and one of your feet bouncing in the air. A very familiar gesture indeed. Could you be...

"Are you-" His voice cracked and he coughed. "Sorry... Are you... Maybe you... Sorry, let me start again. Are..."

"Are you nervous?" You cut him off with your smallest voice, one that didn't feel right coming from your confident self.

"Yes. Are YOU nervous?" He asked back.

"Yes." You replied.

Bruno was confused. There were many reasons for him to be nervous, but you?. You should be ashamed of being seen with him, at best. Not nervous.

He was so distracted he didn't even notice the way his body slowly inched closer to yours.

"How can you be nervous? You've done this before."

Your foot stopped bouncing. You sighed, placing your hands on the soft fabric of the cushions and caressing them absentmindedly. Pretty hands too, of course.

"So have you. So what?"

Outrageous. Bruno huffed in disbelief. Were you comparing a date from the perspective of a beautiful, interesting young woman with HIS perspective? A disgusting old hermit with no redeeming qualities? That was borderline offensive, honestly.

He waved his arms, pointing at you and at himself indignantly as if that explained everything.

"I'm the one that has to impress the prettiest, wittiest woman I've seen in my entire life! In my own house! While my niece listens!" He complained, not thinking about the fact that he just called you pretty to your face.

You frowned at his outburst. Raising his voice wasn't the best of his nervous responses.

"Well! You outwit me every day, look amazing doing it and bring me food to my doorstep! I also don't want to ruin this! In your own house! While your niece listens!" Your tone matched his, but you didn't sound angry. You were saying... nice things about him.

Bruno's face got red as a sunset. He had been making an effort to make Bru-dos say things that made you laugh, but he didn't know you thought he looked amazing. If he would've had to guess, he would've said you considered him tolerable to look at, not amazing. Maybe Camilo had been making him taller or something?

You clapped your hands and his train of thought vanished. Your eyebrows tilted slighly, creasing the soft skin between them.

"Now that that's out there. Would it kill us to sit a liiiittle closer?" You asked, using your index and your thumb to emphasize how little you meant.

"It might." Replied Bruno as he complied with your suggestion. "I'm fifty. Heart failure is right around the corner."

You laughed, getting closer to him as well with a little jump. He had been joking about the heart failure, but if you kept acting cute he might have to ask Julieta to cure his arrhythmia.

The soft, elegant curve of your back draped over the cushions when you leaned back, more relaxed. Were you aware of how beautifully you moved?

"I saw you rebuild this house with your own hands." You teased. "Don't play the old man card on me."

So you had noticed him!

"Really?" He asked, sliding even closer with excitement. "You knew who I was?"

You made a playful so-so gesture.

"No and yes. I only saw you, like, twice. I was handling the donkeys."

"Oh." 

"But everyone knows who you are!"

"Oh! Oh?"

"Even me."

"Aw..."

"Did you know who I was?" Your eyes twinkled. Pretty.

"I wish I did." Bruno said, wistfully. "Finding out was shocking."

"How?"

"Like... Like a shock."

"Figured as much."

"No, you have no idea." Bruno shook his head, brushing your nose with his curls. "I thought I was having a vision. I thought you had to be a hallucination. I thought I was back in the walls, dreaming. It was the strangest thing that's ever happened to me."

"That's a stretch."

"No."

"Well..." You almost whispered, leaning towards him. A strand of your hair had escaped from behind your ear and it trembled when Bruno's breath quickened. "Then it's the most beautiful thing anyone's ever said to me."

Your eyes were way too big. No, it wasn't that... Your eyes were way too close. Bruno hadn't realized, enraptured in the quick exchange, but your bodies kept sliding towards each other like magnets. Your soft smile was less than ten inches away from his face. He stared at your lips in awe. A brave man would close the gap. A brave man would kiss you.

He was not at that point yet.

"Tense." He spoke robotically, his gaze still on your lips. "Are you hungry?"

You opened and closed your mouth like a dying fish before nodding slowly. It was lunchtime, after all.

"Yes?"

Bruno stood up faster than he had been able to in the last thirty years.

"Good! Care for some chirimoyas? I'll fetch them right from the... uh... Wait here."

He calmly walked out the living room. As soon as he was out of your line of sight, he picked up the pace and headed upstairs. Towards Camilo's door.

Chapter Text

"Camilo!" Whispered Bruno, knocking lightly on the door with the tips of his fingers. "Camilo, open up."

"What do you want?" Asked Camilo's voice from inside.

"Just a word, I swear. I'm freaking out. Please."

A very upset Camilo pondered his options for a moment. His uncle's voice did sound worried, more so than usual, but there was no way they were switching again. After the hard work it took to overcome Bruno's fears, letting him run away felt like taking a step back.

On the other hand, what good could come out of sending him back to you in that state?

His hand hovered over the doorknob.

"Okay. But just a word." He conceded.

As soon as Camilo opened the door, Bruno rushed in and slammed his back against the wood, closing it. He was hyperventilating, holding his wrist like he was checking his pulse.

"Diez, once, doce..." Suddenly, his right hand shot outwards to grab his nephew's ruana, pulling him closer. He whispered what he was sure were his final words."Camilo, tell Mirabel she's my favourite niece."

The teenager shook his head in disbelief as he slid away from Bruno's grasp. He had gone on two-hour-long dates with you without batting an eyelash and his uncle hadn't been able to last ten minutes.

"What happened? Did she touch you knee?" He asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest and cocking an eyebrow.

Bruno wildly shook his head, still trying to get a hold of his breath.

"Ay... We... There was this moment." He tried to explain. He pinched his hands, mimicking your faces, and used them to illustrate. "She was so close... And her hair... And I almost..."

Defeated, Bruno let his hands fall. He couldn't even retell it.

Luckily, Camilo understood.

"You didn't kiss her?" He asked.

Bruno shook his head again, despair in his features.

"Well, then go back and finish the job! Kiss her!"

"I can't!"

"Why?!"

"I don't know how! That's a good reason!"

"¿Sí o qué?" Camilo raised his arms in annoyance and let them fall back down. "And how else are you going to learn? Watching TV?"

Bruno ran his fingers through his greyish curls. He had gotten carried away and set a mood he wasn't ready to commit to. Why did you have to be so easy to talk to? Couldn't you stop with the... with the eyes?! The eyes! Camilo had been so right about the eyes.

It was your fault if he REALLY wanted to kiss you. The only reason he didn't was because he knew he was going to be bad at it.

"Escucha..." His nephew patted his shoulder reassuringly. "Nobody said you had to run before you could walk."

Bruno rolled his eyes.

"Pretty ironic considering how I've been running away from everything for the last ten years."

"¡Exacto! So give her a little peck and call it a day. It's not like her tongue will be falling off soon."

Bruno's face scrunched up in disgust.

"Don't say that... You're fifteen."

Camilo smiled and gently nudged Bruno away from the door. He was shaking like a leaf, but his breathing was more regular.

The poor broken man, living inside the walls alone for ten years. If his own mother already had ridiculously fragile nerves, Camilo couldn't even imagine the state his uncle's mind could be in.

"I just want what's best for my tía." Stated Camilo, softly.

Bruno's heart warmed a bit. His mind raced with thoughts of you being Camilo's tía, you gifting Camilo books for his birthday, you scolding Camilo for stealing food from the kitchen, you threatening Camilo with the chancla... and it felt right. Like you fit in with the Madrigals. Camilo and you already got along great, even. You just didn't know it yet.

While Bruno thought, the boy left his side to fetch his favourite book from the nightstand. He hesitantly handed it to his uncle, nudging his side with the edge.

"Here, read a little if you want." Cursed be his blatant disregard for the rules. He couldn't even stick to his own principles. "I'll cover for you while you calm down, but no more than half an hour. Understood?"

Bruno nodded weakly.

"I already feel better. I just need five minutes."

Camilo chuckled. He transformed into his uncle and blew a raspberry at him.

"Five minutes then. Be ready."

When Bruno came back, he was wearing sandals and he looked much more relaxed. He even sat close to you, throwing one arm over the backrest of the sofa like nothing happened. You had a hard time wrapping your head around his frequent mood swings, but you felt like it was something to overlook given he had spent so long living in complete isolation.

However, it wasn't like him to forget you were hungry. Quite the opposite.

"Where are the chirimoyas?" You asked.

Bruno looked at you like you had just turned green.

"What chirimoyas?"

"The chirimoyas you said you were going to fetch..."

"Ah, those! Yeah... we're all out. But Julieta made some food before everyone left for the day. Do you want to grab a bite?" He did seem nervous, but not quite like before. More like he was hiding something.

You squinted. Suspicious.

"You've already asked me if I was hungry." You stated dryly. "Are you... drunk? Have you taken something?"

Bruno laughed, shaking his head like you were saying something very stupid.

"Of course not! What, I can't ask my girl if she's hungry twice?"

"Your girl...?" You mumbled.

Now that was even weirder. You couldn't even picture the shy but well-meaning man you'd come to like calling you his girl so casually. He was behaving very strangely, almost like he wasn't himself. Almost like... he had behaved the night you met.

All the wild scenarios from your favourite telenovelas played out on your head. Evil twin? Split personality? Demonic possession? You didn't know what sounded worse, but you DID know that when confronting a murderer you never pointed at him and yelled 'I know you killed him and I'm going to tell everyone'. You had to subtly ask the right questions, make sure you weren't overreacting and then book it as fast as possible.

"Okay..." You said, reluctantly. "To the kitchen."

He offered you his hand to help you up and led you through the entry hall and into the kitchen. A very beautiful kitchen at that. In almost every surface there was a plate filled with food, and the air smelled like cheese and spices. On the corner, you spotted a basket full of chirimoyas.

You chose not to point it out and cautiously grabbed an arepa. Bruno sat down and pulled the rest of the plate towards himself.

"So this is your sister's food..." You started.

He was already stuffing his face, so he could do nothing but nod enthusiastically.

You sighed and took a bite, swallowing slowly before moving on with your questions. It tasted like heaven.

"And you're triplets." Bruno nodded again, holding two arepas on each hand. "You don't have a twin brother?"

His sudden coughing fit startled you. He punched his chest, tearing up, until he managed to spit the piece of arepa that was blocking his windpipe. If you were suspicious before, now the alarms were blaring. You weren't sure what was going on but you knew it wasn't good.

"Uh... No, just me. Why?"

He leaned on his elbow casually, but his smile was strained and his left eye twitched slightly. You didn't like this. You didn't like this one bit. It was heartbreaking, but a woman needed to know when to escape situations to prevent them from escalating. You mother told you that time and time again while you were growing up, and you had internalized her teachings.

You pretended to look at the sun out the window.

"Oh, look at the time! I really have to go." You chirped, hoping he didn't notice your nervousness.

Bruno's next arepa fell from his hand directly on the ground. His eyes searched the room, looking for any excuses to make you stay.

"No..." He said slowly. "I'm afraid I can't let you do that."

Alma Madrigal strutted down the staircase of la Casita, her right arm interlocked with a terrified Dolores' while her left hand pulled her son behind her by the ear.

She had spent the morning praying in her room as per usual, and was starting to consider interrupting her Brunito's date to get something to eat when her granddaughter knocked on her door, on the verge of tears.

"I'm sorry, I promised I wouldn't tell you, but... they won't listen to me." She started.

And then she told her everything, every twist and turn on the original plan, how it was going horribly and how you were about to leave forever because of Camilo and Bruno's mistakes.

So Alma did what any good mother would do. She had tried to avoid getting too involved, leaving Bruno some room to develop a relationship on his own terms, but he clearly couldn't be trusted. She grabbed her granddaughter by the arm and rushed to fix everything, if anything was salvageable at all.

Bruno paled when she entered Camilo's room and caught him reading a book when he was supposedly on a date. Not a peep left his lips as Alma grabbed him by the ear and started walking. He knew he deserved it.

The trio arrived at the entrance of the kitchen to find a sorry scene.

"Let go! Let! Go!" You yelled, hitting Bruno's copy with a wooden spoon.

Every hit slighly morphed Camilo's face, but you were too busy trying to get rid of him to notice. The boy, transformed on a hibrid between Bruno and himself, was struggling on the floor, holding onto your skirt to prevent you from leaving.

"One minute! Just one minute! I can explain!" He yelled desperately.

Alma watched in silence. Her nostrils were expanding by the second. Dolores started crying.

"Let me go right now, Bruno! I know you're a demon! I'm going to tell everybody!" You kept screaming and hitting, too busy to realize you had company.

Alma cleared her throat. You stared at her, frozen. Camilo turned into every Madrigal at once.

The old woman sternly pointed at her grandson, lips thin as paper, while everyone else held their breaths.

"Stop this nonsense. Now." She commanded.

To your surprise, the person that scrambled to get up from the floor wasn't Bruno, but his nephew Camilo. Bruno was standing next to his mother, looking at you like a zebra looks at a lion.

Your mouth opened in a silent scream.

"Ghhhghhhhaaaaa?"

You couldn't form a single word. You had obviously never known there was a shapeshifter in the Madrigal family. But he was fifteen? And he had tried to... disguise himself as his uncle? To date you? You felt like puking.

Alma reassured Dolores with a few soft pats on her arm and let go of her, pulling the real Bruno towards you and shoving him mercilessly right in front of your face. Camilo slid backwards, away from his uncle's trajectory. Dolores rushed towards him, but her abuela raised her hand and everything went still.

"I'm sorry about my grandson." She spoke calmly, like the air that goes still before a hurricane. "He's usually under strict vigilance, but today he tried to play a little prank on you. It won't happen again."

You slowly blinked. So it had been just once? But... what about his odd behaviour on the night you met? The little differences you had noticed in his voice and his body language? Could you have imagined it all? Were you going crazy?

Alma asked Camilo to come closer with a wave of her hand. The boy slowly stood up and walked towards you, staring at his sandals.

"Can you apologize to this lovely couple for the problems you've caused, Camilo?" Asked Alma.

Camilo nodded. He sniffed discretely and cleared his throat.

"I'm very sorry. It won't happen again." His voice cracked.

You felt awful. He was just a kid and you had hit him with a spoon. Repeatedly. While you yelled he was a demon.

Only one thing came to mind.

"You know, it was a good prank." You said as lightly as you could.

Camilo looked at you with tears in his eyes, but held back a chuckle. You ruffled his hair with a small smile before looking back at Alma.

"It's okay, no hard feelings." You reassured her showing her your open palms. "I'm sorry I got a little scared for a second."

Alma smiled warmly.

"Beautiful. I'll take this little rascal to his room and we'll have a little talk. When you see him today at dinner he'll be a new man."

You laughed.

"I sure hope he doesn't change too much."

Alma waved in you direction and began scooping the kids towards their rooms, probably for a good scolding. Bruno's voice stopped her mid-step.

"That's not the truth." He said. His voice came out strangled, so you weren't sure you understood him correctly.

"¿Disculpa?" You asked.

"That's... That's not the truth." He repeated more firmly. His shoulders were squared up and his eyes jumped from his mother to you. "She's lying. I'm lying. We've all been lying."

You felt more lost than before. Your blood run cold as you racked you brain trying to grasp the meaning of what he was saying.

"Bruno..." Warned Alma.

"Don't 'Bruno' me, mamá."

If you weren't so confused and scared, you'd be impressed by his assertiveness. As it was, you only felt numb.

Bruno turned fully towards you and opened his mouth to say something, but Alma cut him off.

"Are you going to disobey me?" She barked.

Bruno didn't take his eyes off yours.

"Wouldn't be the first time."

And he told you everything from beginning to end. How he had frozen the second he saw you, how Camilo had tried to help, how everything got out of hand because of his social anxiety and how they made it worse trying to fix it. He rambled and rambled about why he liked you of all people, how you made him feel and how scared he was of everything that was happening.

You face went from confusion to anger, then to sadness, then back to confusion and it finally settled on absolute shock.

"I've... been dating a fifteen year old?" You asked.

Camilo huffed.

"I'm almost sixt- ¡Ay!" He was cut off by Dolores' hand slapping the back of his neck.

You didn't pay attention to him. Your eyes stared into empty space.

"So who... who was I talking to?"

Bruno and Camilo both pointed at each other.

You felt truly horrified.

"Who... I can't... Who do I like?" You muttered, more to yourself than the rest of the room.

Camilo answered your question before anyone could hit him again.

"That was Bruno. He told me everything I had to say and how in a secret sign language. I was just a puppet."

You stared at your hands. They had tingled so warmly when you held Bruno's. How didn't you notice before? Were you dumb?

Bruno's hand carefully slid in your field of view, settling between yours in a reassuring gesture. You looked at him.

"You can't imagine how sorry I am. I wish I had a better excuse." He said. "I wanted to get to know you. Camilo was just trying to help. We messed up, and the rest is..." He bit his lip, making a whistling sound. "History. You can leave. I'll hold the kid so he doesn't grab you again."

You looked at your hands, then at him, then back at your hands, then back at him. That man, with his soft, raspy voice, his deep longing gaze and his sincere admiration towards you was definitely the one you liked. You fingers twitched around his.

"Can I kiss you?" You asked.

The atmosphere of the room changed completely. Tension was out the window. Everyone was wondering if they'd heard you correctly.

It was Bruno's turn to stare at you in shock.

"¿Disculpa?" He said.

"Can I kiss you?" You repeated.

Bruno switched his weight from one foot to the other and made a strangled noise. He looked around nervously, then back at you. His hand, cradled between yours, remained steady.

He leaned towards you conspiratiously, his eyebrows knitted in discomfort.

"In front of my mother?" He whispered.

"Oh, I was just leaving." Announced Alma, turning around immediately."You kids have fun. Stay for dinner, will you? There's chicken!"

Dolores left with her but Camilo chose to stay in the kitchen, staring at his uncle with a grin from ear to ear.

"My... my nephew is still here." Bruno whispered again, as if you couldn't see the kid expectantly waiting for the kiss as he discreetly fetched another arepa. You chuckled.

"Bruno, I don't mean to add pressure, but if you don't kiss me in the next ten seconds I'm going to cry." You said.

Bruno's free hand moved to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. He gulped. His eyes darted towards Camilo.

"I... is... Are you going to just stand there? Can't we get some privacy?" He asked.

Camilo put his hands around his mouth and yelled like he was watching a football match.

"Come on, tío! Kiss her! It's the moment we've been waiting for!" He cheered.

You smiled sweetly at Bruno, your eyes shining with mischief.

With a jump, you grabbed the wooden spoon and started chasing Camilo around the kitchen.

"¡Gonorrea! ¡Ay! I've changed my mind, get her out of this house!" He complained, trying to dodge your hits with little luck. You tried to hold back your laughter, wanting to seem at least a little bit angry at him.

After five or six slaps of the kitchen utensil, the teenager finally retired upstairs. You watched him go, standing proudly with your hands on your hips.

"So, where were w-"

Bruno grabbed you by the shoulder. He turned you around with a swift movement and slammed his lips against yours. You stood still for a second, but when you finally processed what was going on your eyes fluttered closed and your hands found his curls, burying themselves there. His hands slid down from your shoulders and settled a little above your hips, pulling you closer to him in a silent hug.

Dolores smiled to herself, listening to both of your heartbeats getting faster. Camilo clapped from upstairs, peeking through the banister rails. Alma, who had been waiting with her ear glued to the door, tried not to tear up at the thought of her loneliest child finally finding someone that loved him.

To Bruno and you, there was nobody else on the planet. Your lips separated and interlocked again, as if they were being pulled by an invisible force that was determined to make up for the lost time before you found him and he found you.

Chapter Text

Everywhere you looked, there was a rat.

When Bruno suggested introducing you to his rat friends, you expected him to pull up a cage with two or three domesticated pets. Instead, some of the colourful tiles that lined the bottom of the walls opened like little doors, flooding the living room with about fifty rats that emerged from the holes in small grey rivers, climbing up the curtains, the couch and the chairs.

He started the introductions immediately, asking you to hold his friends while he told you some facts about them. You were currently meeting the sixth rat of the evening. A big one, grey with small white specks. Its nose ticked your palms when it sniffed you, searching for some food.

"This is Ricardo." Bruno explained eagerly. "He's mostly a people pleaser, BUT he will talk about you behind your back. You have to mind your words in front of him." He leaned to whisper in your ear, covering one side of his mouth to hide it from Ricardo. "He's also insecure about his weight, so don't mention it."

You nodded, trying to take in the information. Ricardo, big, grey and white. Backstabber and a bit insecure.

You were thoroughly determined to learn all of the rat's names. So far you'd met Roberto, Julia, Luisa, Manuel and Jesús, and you were already getting them mixed up in your head. Some were related, some had active grudges against each other, some were related AND had active grudges against each other. You wondered how much of it was based on real events and how much had been created by Bruno's wonderful imagination.

Ricardo, as far as you'd seen, seemed like a nice chap. His beady eyes were wet and shiny, and his tiny hands held onto your fingers without making a fuss. He started licking your thumb, which prompted Bruno to quickly remove him from your grasp.

"Hey! He likes me!" You complained.

"Yyyyeah, no. He does that when he's about to bite. Sorry." Said Bruno with an apologetic half smile.

You liked his smile, the way one side of his mouth seemed to rise higher than the other and the small wrinkles that lined his cheeks, a vestige of past dimples. His teeth were very white and very big, dorky in a cute way. You stared at him fondly as he lectured Ricardo under his breath, placing him on the coffee table next to... Julia? Manuel? Mierda, you had no idea.

He then picked up yet another rat, gray all over and way smaller than Ricardo.

"This little boy is Antonio." He fondly pet him behind the ears before handing him to you. "He was born just three months ago, but we're very close already. He's very sweet."

Antonio tried to climb your fingers, getting on his hind legs to take a closer look at your face. He was very sweet and cute indeed. You put your nose up to his and let him smell you.

Bruno silently watched you get cross eyed as you cooed over Antonio, who was busy trying to munch on your hair. His chest bubbled with adoration. You were so... easy to love. He wouldn't have been able to resist it even if he tried.

"Are you laughing at me?" You asked, still focused on the rat. "I can't see you but I bet you are."

He laughed softly. If only you knew.

"I'm jealous. You never look at me like that." He joked.

"Oh, sorry." You turned around, still holding Antonio, and pressed your nose against Bruno's. You crossed your eyes as much as you could. "Is this better, Brunito?"

Bruno snorted. He gave you a soft peck on the lips. You went for a second one. He went for a third one. Just like that, you were engaged in the beginning of another kissing session.

His hand moved to cup your cheek and you leaned against it, your lips still connected. The new angle was... interesting. He remembered Camilo's words about your tongue not falling off anytime soon. It couldn't be that hard, could it? He had been winging it so far and he hadn't heard any complaints.

The second Bruno tried to deepen the kiss, you hummed alarmedly over his mouth.

"Hm! Hmmm."

He jumped away from you. His eyes scrutinized yours, trying to understand what he had done wrong.

You raised your hands.

"I'm still holding Antonio. Let me..."

You carefully placed the sweet rat between two of its peers, petting all three of them with your index finger. When you were satisfied with the amount of affection they'd received, you turned back towards Bruno, wiggling your eyebrows.

But his energy didn't match yours. His gaze was soft with a hint of pain.

"Stop me." He almost whispered.

"What?"

"Please. I'm about to say something stupid. Just ask me to stop."

"Eh... Stop?" You tried.

Bruno sighed.

"Too late." He held your hands and pressed them against his mouth, looking at you intensely. "I think I-"

"DINNER'S READY! I'M NOT LOOKING!"

Mirabel entered the living room, covering her eyes with one of her hands. All of the rats scattered, startled by her voice, and disappeared through little holes in the walls, leaving only small crumbs of arepa behind. The seemingly magical house closed the tiles. Everything looked as if nothing had happened.

Bruno screwed his eyes shut. He bit his lower lip, holding back a scream.

"You little lifesaver." He hissed between his teeth.

"Can I look now? Is the coast clear?" The teenager ignored her uncle's comment, trying to walk towards you with her arm extended in front of her. She walked into the coffee table. "¡Ay! Found the table..."

You held back a chuckle. You had seen the girl around town more than once, and found her mannerisms to be very sweet and funny. She definitely was one of a kind.

Bruno stood up with a small grunt, trying to put some respectful distance between you. He went to check on his niece.

"You can look. Nothing's going on, we were just talking." He explained, gently holding the teenager's arm to prevent her from hitting something again.

Mirabel cautiously peeked between her fingers. When she saw you, she perked up.

"Hi! We've met, remember?" She said, rushing to give you a one-armed hug that you promptly returned.

"I do! But you never told me you had such a handsome uncle." You joked.

Mirabel laughed and posed dramatically, pointing at Bruno with both of her hands open like she was presenting the star of a circus number.

"Behold!" She proclaimed. "Eligible bachelor! Also great with kids!"

You stood up, circling Bruno deliberately and examining him as if you were a potential buyer. You measured the width of his shoulders with your hands, counted his fingers and poked his cheek gently. He frowned in confusion.

"Doesn't seem like a bachelor to me." You determined, making him blush.

Mirabel's goofy smile faded into a softer one as she watched you and her tío interact. He looked very happy and relaxed around you, and you looked... just as infatuated. Her heart felt swollen, full of the kind of happiness that only comes with seeing someone you love succeeding in life.

"You're right." Said the teenager. "We need to update the script."

Bruno's sudden clap startled you. He interlaced his hands, pointing towards the door with both of his index fingers.

"What we need to do is set the table before my mother claims our souls."

With a newfound fear of death instilled in you, you rushed to help. You had seen Alma angry. You didn't want to see that again.

The atmosphere was very different from the last time you had dinner with the Madrigals. The large wooden table was full of apetizing food, as per usual, but it was also lined with expectant pairs of eyes.

Bruno, who sat right next to you, radiated discomfort. He tried to focus mostly on eating, but his eyes darted to check on you every now and then.

The rest of his family looked at you like a kid looks at a christmas present. They barely talked, they just watched you and Bruno with the widest smiles you'd seen in your life. Félix had missed his mouth with the spoon twice. You weren't exactly comfortable.

"Uh..." You spoke tentatively. "Can someone pass me the empanadas, please?"

"Bruno, your girlfriend wants empanadas." Quipped Camilo immediately.

At the sound of the word 'girlfriend', Mirabel squeed. Julieta pressed her hands against her heart, tilting her head with her eyes full of tenderness. Félix elbowed his son's side reproachfully.

Bruno fetched the plate of empanadas and handed it to you, his eyes fixated on his food.

"He heard her, Camilo." Reprimanded Pepa, finally tearing her eyes away from you. "And eat some greens. You can't live on arepas alone."

Camilo tsked. He shrunk on his chair like a petulant child, crossing his arms in front of his chest and eyeing the salad bowl with disdain.

You calmly grabbed your serving of empanadas and handed the plate back to Bruno so he could leave it where it was before. Everyone's eyes followed the exchange, eyebrows rising when your hands touched like it was the final goal at a football match.

You pretended not to notice.

"Your... Your dresses are coming along nicely." You tried to switch the topic again.

Success. Dolores stopped staring at her uncle and smiled at your comment, clapping softly with her fingertips. Mirabel also nodded appreciatively.

"Of course. The best seamstress in town is making them." She stated. You didn't know if you deserved the title, but you felt honored nonetheless.

"She's the only seamstress in town." Camilo pointed out.

"My point still stands." Argued Mirabel.

"Cielo, could you pass me the wine?" Asked Bruno, making everyone jump.

You felt your blood rushing to your face as you fetched the bottle and gave it to him. Bruno could be very shy, but calling you 'cielo' for the first time in front of his whole family was... bold. In a good, defiant way. 

"Thank you." He simply said, pouring himself some wine and leaving the rest within his reach.

Under the table, your foot found his. You lightly pressed your shoe against the side of his sandal and he returned the gesture, secretly reassuring you. You felt a little bit better. He had your back.

Bruno looked at you from the corner of his eye and smiled discreetly, taking a long sip of wine to hide his face behind the glass.

"That reminds me..." Started Alma, making everyone turn in her direction. "What kind of wine will you want at your wedding?"

Bruno choked on his drink, spitting it all over the white tablecloth. He clutched his chest while he coughed violently. Alarmed, you patted his back until he seemed to calm down.

"Isn't-" He wheezed, trying to regain control of his lungs. "Isn't it a bit too soon for that, mamá?"

Alma frowned, lifting her palms towards the ceiling as if she was explaining something too obvious.

"You're already fifty, Brunito." Her tone was one step away from being reproachful. "You should know what you want in life by now."

You wanted to die. You wanted to be dead so you didn't have to hear Bruno's mother discussing your wedding on the day of your first real date. Hell, you liked him a lot, he would probably make a great husband, but you wanted him to propose whenever he felt like it, ideally after being together for a reasonable amount of time. Getting married just because Alma said so wasn't very romantic.

"It's okay, doña Alma." You calmly tried to defuse the situation. "I have some ideas. I'll run them through you when the time comes."

She smiled, satisfied with your answer.

"See?" She said. "Her mind is in the right place. Bless you, mija"

Bruno's hand found yours and squeezed it with gratitude. You just stared at the growing red stain on the tablecloth. Truly and honestly, you wondered if you would be able to tell the difference between a good wine and a bad one for the very anticipated day of your wedding.

"It's such a long walk, and it's late. I'm begging you to reconsider." Insisted Alma, holding your hand between hers.

"It's okay. Bruno offered to walk me home." You reassured.

As soon as dinner was finished, while the dishes were being washed, you had mentioned the fact that you had a house to go back to. Alma reacted like a bomb had fallen in the middle of the table. It was too late for a woman to walk alone, your house was too far away, there were jaguars in the jungle... Very reasonable arguments if it wasn't for the fact that you lived in a small town where everyone knew each other and you had been dining with a five year old that had a jaguar in his bedroom.

You weren't entirely oblivious. You knew she was trying to get you to stay so you spent more time with Bruno, and as good as that sounded you had a life to tend to as well.

"It's truly no more than a ten minute walk, at worse." You explained. "I appreciate the gesture, but I have to refuse."

Alma nodded slowly, defeated by your stubbornness. She patted your forearm as if that was your last goodbye.

Bruno emerged from the kitchen with his sleeves rolled up, determined to fulfil his task of taking you home safe and sound. He softly kissed the top of his mother's head as he passed her on his way to the entrance. You loved how sweet he always was with his family, no matter how much they argued.

Giving your arm a final squeeze, Alma let you join her son by the door. Bruno automatically reached for your hand.

"I'll be back in one piece!" He announced dramatically, flapping his ruana like a cape. Maybe he had a bit too much wine with dinner.

"Are you sure?" Alma asked eagerly. "I'm sure she won't mind if you stay over. I won't wait up."

Bruno groaned. He opened the door for you and gently nudged you outside.

"Do you want people to question her virtue?" He asked Alma over his shoulder indignantly.

"At this rate they won't!" Yelled Camilo from the kitchen.

You blushed at the comment. Bruno noticeably flinched. He swiftly closed the door behind him before anyone else could share an opinion.

The noises that came from inside la Casita were immediately drowned by the magical wood.

You took a deep breath. The cold, quiet breeze of the night made the folliage that surrounded you sound like ocean waves. You and Bruno looked at each other in silence, appreciating the peace of the moment after so much anxiety.

"That was intense." You whispered.

"Yeah..." Bruno rubbed the back of his neck. "They never thought they'd... uh... see me with someone. Me neither, to be completely honest. It was a surprise for everyone."

You popped your hip playfully.

"They also seem to think my virtue is in no danger." You teased.

Bruno nervously fidgeted with the hem of his ruana. He had thought about it, sure. He had gone through puberty like everyone else. But thinking about it and going through with it for the first time (and at his age) were two different things.

"Uh... Not imminently, no." He mumbled. "See, I've-I've never... like, absolutely nothing, so if we could maybe wait a bit... you know, maybe there's a couple of things I could try, I'm not saying I'm against it. And then, like, from there, I'm sure we'll eventually get to the whole... Obviously, if that... if that works for you?"

Bruno prepared himself for a bad reaction, he got them all the time. He was ready for you to show, at least, some frustration. But then your arms snaked under his. You pulled him close in a hug, burying your face in the crook of his neck and humming contentedly.

"Ay, mi Brunito." You muttered "You don't have to do anything you're uncomfortable with."

Bruno realized he had never been told that before. Since he was a kid, he had always been asked to do things he was uncomfortable with: prophecies for the townsfolk, long talks with his mother about finding a wife, attending events where he was surrounded by people who hated him... He didn't set boundaries often, but whenever he tried his opinion was discarded. Until then. For the very first time, somebody cared.

He hugged you back, wondering what such a precious human being saw in a crazy old man. You had to be crazy too. He really needed to get you back inside and start preparing the wedding before you came to your senses.

"Besides." Your voice was muffled by the fabric of his ruana. "How far exactly did you think you were getting today?"

Bruno's shoulders shook with silent laughter. He softly kissed the top of your head, rubbing circles between your shoulder blades absentmindedly.

"You're very funny, you know that?" He observed. "And very smart."

Your peeked at him through his messy curls.

"Answer the question." You commanded.

"Oh, I- Well..." Bruno laughed nervously. "I was... I can... I mean, I can s-show you."

He tried to make his tone sound flirty, but you noticed the way the corners of his mouth twitched slighty, the way his eyebrows expressed both hope and fear. Even after sharing so much of himself with you, even after realizing you liked him the way he was, he was still scared of rejection.

A cold breeze brushed past you, making you shiver. Bruno gently rubbed your arms to warm you up.

"Are you cold?" He asked, his features laced with worry. "Do you want to borrow my ruana?"

You shook your head. What you wanted was a warm hug and a cup of tea. Being alone in your house after spending such a wonderful evening with such a wonderful man sounded like torture.

Bruno, on his part, felt a little disappointed. He really wanted to see you wearing his ruana. He wanted his body warmth to be the one that comforted you, and his smell to be the one you discreetly sniffed when you thought he wasn't looking. 'Some other day', he thought. 'It's not like she's going to run away... right?'

After a short pause, you confessed something that was on both of your minds.

"I don't want to go home yet."

Bruno sighed. He didn't want you to go home either, but he wanted to be away from the prying eyes of his family. As tempting as staying over at your house sounded (even if nothing... spicy happened), your neighbours' gossip would make your life so much harder than it needed to be.

He kissed the top of your head repeatedly, racking his brain for a solution. He could... but no, you wouldn't. Would you?

"I can... take you somewhere." He started tentatively. "Where we can be alone. Well, w-with the rats, that is."

You smiled. It was the kind of sweet, excited smile that he never thought he'd receive from a woman. Much less after telling her they were going somewhere with a ton of rats.

"Friendly sleepover, huh?" You teased, raising an eyebrow.

Bruno blushed and made a noncommittal sound. If you wanted to sleep over, he certainly wasn't going to be the one that stopped you.

Chapter Text

Alma came back from her early morning walk with a smile. This was nothing new, since Alma enjoyed interacting with her neighbours and taking care of their needs as much as the next Madrigal, but to someone that knew her well (and Julieta knew her very well), it was apparent that there was a hint of conceit in the corner of her lips.

This worried Julieta, not because she usually cared about her mother's schemes, but because she had a gut feeling that it had something to do with Bruno's newfound love life. The whole family was very excited about you joining them sooner than later. The sight of the reclusive man being head over heels in love with someone who corresponded him was enough to warm the coldest heart. If Alma's meddling got in the way somehow, Julieta felt it was her duty as a sister to find out and put a stop to it.

So she pretended to focus mostly on her current task of folding tamales while she carefully proded her mother for information.

"Have a good walk, mamá?" She hid her suspicions behind a cheerful tone. Fold. Fold. Tie.

Alma answered in her regular correctness, her expression unreadable.

"Very good. The plaza was busy."

"Was it? Who did you see?" Julieta quirked an eyebrow inquisitively. Fold. Fold. Tie.

"Noone out of the ordinary. The Herreras, Lorenzo, doña Luciana..." Replied Alma, hanging her shawl behind the kitchen door.

Truly noone out of the ordinary. The people Alma had mentioned weren't particularly interested in the town's gossip. Julieta sighed in relief, and she could finally focus on her tamales in peace. If her mamá had ran into doña Emilia, that would have been a catastrophe. Fold. Fold. Tie.

"Oh!" Exclaimed the old matriarch as if she had just remembered something. "And I saw doña Emilia! She asked me about Brunito, bless her soul."

The tamal Julieta was holding slipped through her fingers and fell on the ground with a slap. Casita was kind enough to swipe it beneath the tiles. Bruno's rats were about to have a mighty feast.

"Doña Emilia?" Julieta's voice shook slightly. "What did you talk about?"

Alma laughed. She joined her daughter in the kitchen counter and began folding tamales with her. Like they used to when Julieta was still learning.

"Nothing short of the truth." Fold. Fold. Tie. "That he'll soon be engaged with the seamstress."

Julieta slammed her hand on the table, avoiding the pile of corn husks by a millimeter. She knew it, she just knew it. Alma wasn't the kind of person to let things work in their own time. She had to be in control.

"¡Mamá!" She tried to be subtly reproachful, but her tone came out too harsh.

Alma didn't raise triplets to take nonsense from them. She turned towards her daughter with the dignity of a queen, deliberately placing the finished tamal on top of the pile she had been building. Julieta shrunk immediately, like she did when she was scolded as a child.

"Our Brunito isn't the only single man in Encanto." Alma spoke clearly, deliberately. "We will let everyone know the seamstress is to become a Madrigal. As. Soon. And. Often. As. Needed. Nobody will scoop my child's only chance at happiness. Do you understand?"

It wasn't a question, but Julieta nodded nonetheless. She was sure her mother's pressure would become a problem on the long run. She was also sure there was no room for discussion. She still tried.

"Bruno won't like this." She muttered. "When people start congratulating him..."

"Who? One of his many friends?" Asked Alma, raising her brow. "IF he finds out, I hope he has already proposed. Time's not for wasting, mija. We will have at least one new Madrigal by the end of the year."

Julieta sighed, defeated. When Bruno found out and had a heart attack, she would be there with a warm cup of tea. Fold. Fold. Tie. Bless her poor brother's soul. It was almost time for breakfast.

Bruno started his day with one thought on his mind and one thought only: He had a girlfriend.

He had never had a girlfriend before. The concept seemed extraterrestrial. A full girlfriend, not as in 'a girl who was his friend' (also foreign) but as in 'a girl he could kiss and protect and treasure for as long as she wanted'. He was thinking about you and you were probably, hopefully, thinking about him too. It was awesome.

He had spent the night with you inside the walls, laughing and kissing and drinking wine and sharing secrets. You had left in the early morning, hurriedly explaining something about getting work done and having so much to do, but before leaving through the secret door on the side of la Casita, you had kissed him. Properly kissed him. Tongue and all, and Bruno thought it was all very wet and very new. And awesome.

So while he had breakfast with his family for the first time in months, pretending he had walked you home and gone right back to his bed, he smiled like never before. His eyebags were darker than ever. He had so many visions to catch up on. He didn't give a rat's ass. He had a girlfriend.

"So... how did it go?" Asked Dolores timidly as she handed him a plate full of arepas con quesito.

"Good, good..." Bruno said, grabbing an extra arepa. He deserved it. "She has work today, but I'll see her tomorrow, so. And she did great too, you know? Didn't scream with the rats, didn't hit Camilo again... A good... A good sport. Went great."

Mirabel ripped the plate from her uncle's hands, smiling slyly.

"Are you guys in love?" She grabbed her share of arepas and handed the plate to a very eager Camilo.

Bruno sighed. His brain knew it was too early to tell, but his heart fluttered at the very mention of you. He was just counting days, waiting for it to be safe to say out loud. Sure wouldn't hurt to recognize it in front of his closest family, right?

"I mean, I am." Pepa started clapping, but her brother stopped her firmly with a gesture. "BUT. But. Could you... Could you stop? With the whole..." He vaguely waved his hands. "I just don't want to get too many people involved. It's kind of between me and her."

Camilo snorted, projecting a bunch of arepa crumbs from his nose. He silently choked on his breakfast as he tried to hold back his laughter. Pepa gently slapped the back of her son's neck.

Bruno's smile weakened a little bit, leaving his eyes.

"Right..." He mumbled, getting back to his breakfast.

But Mirabel wasn't particularly known for giving up on touchy subjects. She leaned on her hand, like she often did when she was about to bring up something she shouldn't.

"So you've made it official?" She asked. "Does someone else know she's your girlfriend?"

Bruno bit his lip, happy to hear your new title, and shrugged nonchalantly.

"How more official can it get? We've..." His eyes darted towards his mother. She listened to him intently from the other side of the table. The man leaned towards Mirabel to whisper, ignoring the rest of the Madrigals that were clearly focused on his conversation. "We've kissed. Like, a lot. A lot, a lot."

The teenager tried not to laugh at her uncle's naivety, a product of his inexperience. She nodded in reassurance.

"That's always a good sign."

Bruno hoped that was the end of it. He was about to ask Camilo about his plans for the day to change the subject, but life often found a way to give him the exact opposite of the outcome he wanted.

Alma, who had obviously heard her son, raised her voice to talk to him.

"Why don't you give us a vision, Brunito?" She hid her command inside a question, like she always did. "I'm sure we all want to know if there will be more children to brighten up our days."

Bruno swallowed. There was the question he had been avoiding asking himself since the day he saw you. Even earlier, since the thought of never being loved first crossed his mind.

'Will I ever find someone who cares about me?' he had wondered briefly as a teenager, right before banishing the option forever. He had been terrified of himself back then. What if he accidentally found out the answer was a no?

But he had found you and you had cared. With all of his quirks and faults, you cared. The new question was 'will she stop caring', and the possibilities were much more terrifying. Somehow, after getting a taste of the thing he craved most, he couldn't go back to living without it.

"I'll see what I can do, mamá." He replied. "I have work today. I'll try later."

Alma's nod wasn't fully convinced, but he was lying after all. He had no intention of finding out about your future together before its time.

The uncomfortable silence that followed his words stretched way too much.

Everyone noticed Alma's question had shaken something inside Bruno, but noone was brave enough to change the subject or keep it going in a more tasteful way. So they all remained silent until Camilo, blessed be his cluelessness, intervened abruptly.

"¡Bueno!" He quipped. "I've gotten myself a job!"

Dolores smiled, delighted.

"Really? What is it?" She asked.

Her brother puffed his chest with pride.

"I'll take care of doña Laura's garden. She needs some strong arms to get rid of those weeds."

"Good." Said Pepa. "Her daughter's pretty."

"¡Mamá! Don't you dare."

Bruno found his smile creeping back to his face. He had an awesome girlfriend, but Camilo didn't. It was certainly someone else's turn to get pestered by their parents.

You had work to do. And loads of it, at that.

Before the end of the day, you needed to cut the fabrics for Mirabel and Dolores' dresses, take notes on some projects you had been pushing back and adjust a plethora of blouses for your very happily pregnant neighbour, Carlota. Bruno's ruana was close to being done. The floor needed sweeping. Your cacti were in dire need of attention. Your back hurt like hell. All of this wouldn't be a problem if you had enough self discipline to not run away with Bruno every time he showed up at your doorstep.

Who were you kidding. You would do it all over again.

With a sigh, you sat down at your working table. You just had to focus, and before you knew it you would be sleeping with the peace of mind that only an empty to-do-list could give you.

So throughout the whole morning you cut, and measured, and scribbled things down, not paying attention to anything but your next task. More commissions kept seeping in quite literally from the cracks on your windows, as you potential clients found the door closed and scribbled notes for you to find when you came out of your trance. Five notes, six, seven. More than ever.

If you had been looking, you would have seen their facial expressions, ranging from excited to politely concerned. Not at all the expressions of a potential client, mind you. But you didn't notice. You kept working, jumping from one thing to the next and giving up on lunch entirely.

Your brain was on autopilot. And that, mixed with your lack of sleep, got you thinking.

You had a boyfriend. At least you thought you had a boyfriend. His nephew had called you his girlfriend, but he hadn't, not even once. He hadn't denied it either, leaving you in some sort of relationship limbo that made you uncomfortable. You never did well on maybes.

It definitely wasn't fair to be worried after Bruno had put in so much effort to talk to you, right? You were almost certain his intentions were honest. But right behind your ears, seeping into your brain, there was a tiny voice that whispered things like "He spit the wine when someone mentioned marriage" or "You fell too soon and too hard, and that's creepy". Unkind things that made you eager to see him again so he could wash them off with kisses.

That thought was also concerning. You shouldn't need to see Bruno again so soon after saying goodbye. You didn't know him that well at all. He just had a way of feeling familiar, of making you feel comfortable and happy, and it was kind of addicting. What a weird conflict to have. Why did happiness make you so confused?

Maybe it was the fact that nothing about it felt real. It felt genuine, but too good to be true. After what you'd been through to get to Encanto...

You killed your thoughts immediately. No thinking about past life, silly. New life now. New life good. No telling Bruno about past life either, even though he had asked, even though he had been honest with you and you had lied to him.

Maybe that's what had you so anxious?

Your eyes drifted absentmindedly towards the basket where you had hidden his ruana, and your shoulders relaxed. New life now. New life good. You smiled.

"Dolores." You whispered. "Will you tell your uncle I have a surprise for him? Tomorrow?"

You had no idea if she was listening at all, but you hoped she was. Just in case, you would stay up all night again, embroidering until the ruana was done.

"I want to ask him a question, too. About us." You added.

After externalizing your thoughts, you could finally focus again. It didn't matter if Dolores had heard you or not. You were determined to ask Bruno if he was your boyfriend as soon as you saw him.

Right beneath your window, the pieces of folded paper kept piling up. You could always read them later. It's not like they contained anything important, anyway.

A mother holding her son's hand. Chasing him around with a pair of shoes he refused to wear. Getting introduced to his first girlfriend. A good vision. Carlota's child was going to have a nice life.

Bruno sighed and rubbed his tired eyes with the back of his hands. The sand fell around him, messing up his already ruthless hair. The coarse substance slid down his shoulders and chest to pile up neatly on his lap. Everything itched.

He had a mighty pile of visions to deliver. Some good, some bad. None of them awful, a rare happening. All of them would be arriving at their respective owners' hands the next morning, because he needed to take a nap as soon as possible and didn't trust himself to wake up before midnight.

Luckily, the task wasn't too pressing. He could get it done before bringing you lunch. 

He knew he could have managed his time better, portioning his visions in several sittings instead of one exhausting session. But whose fault was that? If you weren't so charming and delightful to be around, he wouldn't have spent almost a full week obsessing over spending time with you. If given the choice, he would do it all over again.

Bruno rubbed his hands, threw a fistful of salt over his shoulder and closed his eyes. The smell of sage made his head pound. He only had one left, one more vision and he could take a bath and get inside his tiny, itchy bed. He searched his mind for the right question, and when he felt the sand swirl around him, he began to hunt for the answer.

It was nothing of importance, really. Nosequé Rodríguez wanted to know if his pottery business would become bigger than his neighbour's. Bruno watched him shape delicate pieces under his expert hands, reaching almost the same success, but not quite. He followed the crafting process of a particularly large order just to make sure it went well, and it did. When he was about to leave, some kind of intuition made him stay.

Nosequé Rodríguez handed a basket full of plates to an old woman, except it wasn't just any old woman. It was Alma Madrigal.

She was smiling warmly, like never before, and held the basket under one of his arms. She had a closed envelope in her other hand, but Bruno didn't have time to read it before the sand took it away. A new image was forming, and he could already tell who was in it.

Bruno saw himself showing you the plates as you leaned to kiss his temple, hugging him from behind. You both looked so happy... He wanted to leave before he saw something else, but he couldn't tear his glowing eyes from your sweet gesture. So that's what it looked like when you kissed him? It wasn't as bad as he thought.

Then, the image changed again. The plates were being used at the main table of a street party, very similar to the one where he met you. The whole town was there, cheering for something. No... Not for something. For him.

Bruno walked towards himself, barely recognizing his own features when they were laced with such pride. His face was beaming, his hand gesturing towards you. You were standing by his side, tearing up with joy, wiping your face with your hands and wiping your hands on the skirt of your wedding dre-NO.

Bruno cut the vision short violently, making the sand fly everywhere. The green tablet showed nothing but that Rodríguez man proudly presenting his plates to Alma. But he knew what he had seen. He couldn't unsee it.

His knees buckled and he fell to the ground, the sand absorbing the impact. His chest moved up and down frantically as he hiperventilated. His eyes stung. The feeling was so overwhelming he started to tear up.

It was relief, he noted. He felt so immensely relieved. He was releasing decades long of tension, all of the uncertainty he felt since he first saw you sitting on the edge of the fountain. He cried like he hadn't since his teenage years, sobs ripping out of his throat, threatening to choke him.

You looked so happy. You were looking at him like he never thought anyone would, with so much love. He was glad he couldn't get a full look of your dress (knock on wood), but he just knew it would be a sight to behold. And he would, he would see you in white, walking towards him to exchange your vows.

Bruno was so happy.

It took him a while to calm down, but when he did he dried his face with his ruana and took a deep breath. He headed out of the cave, towards his room, only to find it completely different from what he remembered.

Instead of the usual sad little cell with a bed and a few clocks, he found a massive living space with a couch, a rug and a chimney. The bed was big, enough to fit two, and the walls were covered in shelves filled with his old books, the ones he had left in the basement decades ago. By the window, he spotted about ten colourful pots filled with cacti and a small, blue watering can. Just like the one you had on your front porch.

His chest bubbled, threatening to make him cry again. You would marry him. You would become part of his family and live with him in that very room, a room that was specially created with both of you in mind.

Bruno was so, so happy. It was such a shame he couldn't tell you about it.

Downstairs, a very divided Dolores paced the hallways searching for her abuela. She had heard your message, but before telling Bruno and letting him mess things up on his own, she wanted to confide on someone older. Someone wiser.

She spotted the eldest of her two brothers scribbling on a piece of paper, probably something machiavelic.

"Have you seen our abuela?" She asked.

Camilo seemed to snap out of a trance, quickly hiding whatever he was doing behind his back.

"Eh... Yeah. She's in the kitchen. Why?"

Dolores eyed her brother suspiciously, but didn't push it. She turned around abruptly, headed to tell Alma everything she knew. That you had a "surprise". That you had to "ask Bruno a question". "About the two of you".

She had basically heard you say you were about to propose to her uncle, and damned be her gift if her abuela wasn't going to be the first one to find out.

Chapter Text

You turned Bruno's new ruana the right side up, running your hands through the folds critically. Maybe it was a consequence of sleep deprivation, but you thought it looked... neat. Good, even. And it hadn't taken you that long, all things considered.

The green fabric you'd chosen felt thick, soft and plushy, tightly sewn together with identical stitches. Along the bottom edges of the garment, covering the much more time consuming embroidery you had started, you had sewn three strips of black, shiny ribbon that glistened whenever the light touched them. It was a simple and quick fix, but it looked expensive due to your care and expertise. And more importantly: it was made with Bruno in mind. You had sewn about twenty pockets on the inside, ideal for rat carrying and arepa hoarding.

You finally had a gift for Bruno, one you knew he would like, and you couldn't wait to see his face when you handed it to him.

You absentmindedly gazed at the clock on your wall. Almost an hour before you maybe-boyfriend came to pick you up for lunch.

Just enough time to deliver the first batch of Carlota's blouses.

With a sigh, the folded ruana was placed inside a small basket, the one where you usually kept the scraps you didn't want to throw away yet. You tied the basket to your waist by its handles, grabbed the pile of blouses you had managed to finish and took a long, hard look at your face in the mirror. Not very good, but you were confident Bruno would understand. You WERE wearing one of your nicest dresses, a forest green flowy number with an intrincate embroidery of yellow flowers and very spacious pockets.

As you left, you remembered you hadn't opened any of the pieces of paper that your neighbours had been sliding through the cracks on your window frame. You resolved to take notes on them when you came back from lunch, if the Madrigals didn't pull you into another one of their family dinners.

Speaking of the devil... As soon as you turned around, you ran into a very familiar mess of curls.

Bruno was just... sort of standing in front of your house. Mumbling to himself, ruffling his own hair and extending his hand in what seemed like the rehearsal of a hand shake. He kept doing that: putting his hand out, then balling his fist and retracting it towards his chest before trying again. Firmly gripped under one of his arms, you saw a green tablet that emitted a soft glow.

He hadn't seen you yet, so you took a moment to observe him before coughing softly to announce your presence. He jumped, clutching the tablet. Cute.

"Oh." His eyes opened like saucers. "How- Did- Didn't expect to see you."

You tilted your head, already smiling. You tended to smile around him.

"It's my house." You teased, practically strutting towards him. Your dress made you feel pretty and you wanted to show off, okay? "What brings you here then?"

Bruno lifted the green tablet like it explained everything and pointed to the house directly in front of yours. He didn't stare at the way your skirt hugged your legs once, something worth commending if slightly disappointing.

"Carlota asked for a vision. I left her for last, because well..."

You nodded, lifting the folded pile of blouses you carried as well. One of your short, loose sleeves fell from your shoulder, but you didn't have the hands to fix it.

"I'm actually headed there too. I finished some of her blouses."

Bruno made a noise that could only be described as "polite fake surprise". His eyes were glued to your shoulder. Gently, he lifted his nimble fingers to fix your sleeve for you, but as soon as it was done he took it back like you burned him, clenching the tablet so hard you wondered if it would break.

That bothered you. You were face to face with him, waiting for some semblance of affection, and he was just sort of standing there. Technically yes, he had already greeted you, but after going on several successful dates, spending a day together as a couple and having dinner with his family you expected... something else. Maybe not a full kiss, but was a hug too much to ask?

He cleared his throat nervously and gestured towards Carlota's door.

"Well, do you- do you want to go first? I can wait here, it's not..."

You frowned.

"What?"

"Yeah, well, if we show up together it's going to be a bit on the nose. So you go... you go first?" He tried.

You didn't understand. Why was it a problem to show up together? Had you not walked through town with your arms linked several times before? Had he not kissed you passionately barely two days ago, knocking the air out of your lungs? From what you'd seen, the rest of the people in Encanto didn't exactly keep their relationships on the low. They danced in public, serenaded each other and promptly got engaged after one week of courting, announcing their intentions and devotion to anyone who cared.

But then again, Bruno wasn't like everyone else, was he?

"I say we go together." You tried to counter his argument lightheartedly. "At worse, they'll think I'm teaching you how to talk to people."

He didn't laugh, but he smiled.

"You know what the saddest part is?" He asked. "That you don't talk to people and I still could learn so much from you. Speaks volumes, really."

You chuckled, nudging him towards Carlota's house with the pile of blouses.

"Go. Now."

"Great. I got me a bossy one."

Bruno's protests were filled with fondness and you couldn't help a rush of joy brought by his words. He was noticeably less nervous, but he still tensed up when you knocked on your neighbour's door with your right foot.

There were a few beats of silence. Your maybe-boyfriend shuffled his feet uncomfortably.

"¿Sí?" Asked Carlota's voice from inside.

"Delivery service!" You chirped.

The door opened quickly, but Carlota's smile faded the second she noticed you weren't alone. She eyed Bruno suspiciously, almost with fear.

He gulped and quickly shoved the tablet in the pregnant woman's hands.

"It's good. Bye."

He turned around to flee the scene but you blocked his escape route with your leg, forcing him to face Carlota again. You smiled as brightly as you could.

"And to top off the good news, I have finished some of your blouses! The rest will be done soon, but I wanted to hand you these so you can have something nice to wear. " You realized what you said might sound insulting, and promptly corrected yourself. "Not that you don't look nice already! You look great, pregnancy suits you. And your clothes are also great as is, but what I meant to say is that... the blouses!"

What a disaster. You were slightly more social than Bruno, but there was a reason why you hadn't made any friends yet. You got nervous talking to people.

Carlota reached for the blouses, her eyes still focused on your very anxious maybe-boyfriend, who was trying to recover from the feeling of your leg pressed against him.

"Thank you both. See you around." She said.

And before you could open your mouth to reply, the door was closed.

You blinked, taking in the difference between interacting with Carlota by yourself and interacting with Carlota when Bruno was nearby. You weren't exactly close, but she usually treated you with kindness, offered some small talk and kept you updated about her pregnancy symptoms. That time? Nothing. She hadn't even looked at you. She had been kind of rude, actually.

The problem was bigger than you thought.

When you turned around to tell that to Bruno, he was already leaving.

"¡Ay! ¡Pero espera, hombre!" You rushed to follow him, yelling.

Bruno walked swiftly towards your house, taking a sharp turn to the right and disappearing behind a poorly-kept mess of bushes. You trotted after him, struggling to walk through the folliage until you suddenly bumped into a chest.

"¡Ay! ¡Gonorrea!" You swore, holding onto his ruana to avoid falling. Bruno fumbled to keep you straight.

"Sorry! Sorry." He whispered. "See? That's how it is. They don't like me."

He said it matter-of-factly. Like it was some well-known fact about a common species. See? Rabbits like carrots. Cats hate water. Nobody likes Bruno. So when you mix Bruno and anyone other than you, you get disaster. Obviously.

And the worst part: it was true. You had never heard anyone say anything good about Bruno, not like they did with the rest of the Madrigals. From what he had told you, things had gotten better since he came out of the walls, but people were still wary of him and generally didn't enjoy his company. He was a bad omen. And being a bad omen was a taxing ordeal.

You lifted your hand to caress Bruno's cheek. He recoiled. Like a wounded animal.

"No. Please..." He whispered. "Did you see her face? They need more time." His slender fingers gently curled around your wrists. He took a step back.

"I don't mind..." You started, but he cut you.

"No, but I do. Look, you... Dios."

Bruno let go of you and rubbed his face, trying to put his thoughts in order. You didn't know how to help him.

"Do you want to talk about this inside?" You offered.

He shook his head, making eye contact with you. And you saw it.

Just how broken he was, how hard he was trying to keep decades of trauma behind him. The pressure to be helpful since he was five, never getting anyone's approval, never being anyone's favourite person... He was holding himself together with sheer willpower and he still took the time to help everyone around him, make them laugh and make them feel valuable. He had to be the strongest person you'd ever seen.

He attempted to explain his thoughts, his head low, his hands close to his chest. Guarded.

"You have this... thing that makes me feel like I am enough. I don't know how to explain it without sounding like-" He stopped to think of an accurate comparison. "Well, like myself. But this thing was there from day one, and when I'm around you I'm not Bruno Madrigal. I'm just Bruno, some- some guy who likes a woman and makes her laugh and she isn't scared of him at all. Although maybe I'm scaring you right now, because you look kind of scared."

It was a little scary. Everything felt so intense, and so sudden, and it was... uncommon. Rare. Precious and unprecedented. You wanted to lean into it and pretend you had been dating Bruno for ten years, because that's what it felt like, but that was just... it was crazy. It wasn't normal.

Instead of saying that out loud, you tried to understand the man that was showing you his full deck of cards.

"So... if people talk you'll stop believing I like you back?" You attempted.

"Nnnot quite." Replied Bruno. His eyes darted around as he caught up with his train of thought. "These few days have been the most special thing that's happened to me in my life. I know it's going to work out, I know they will eventually accept it, but it's too soon for them. And if I hear people talk about this... this weird, beautiful miracle of a connection that has sprouted from out of nowhere and changed everything I thought I knew about myself, I'll..."

"Punch them?"

"Maybe! Because I can stand them judging me but I can't stand them judging this. They have no idea what it feels like."

"I do know what it feels like."

Bruno was catching his breath after so much rambling, and it took him a second to realize he had heard you correctly. His eyes sparkled with wonder.

"So you feel the same way? Already?" He asked.

"Nnnot quite." You mimicked his words, a slight frown twisting your features. "I feel like I've known you forever, I feel like you're pretty much the kindest man I've ever met, I feel like there's no way this goes south and I feel like we get each other. But there's... there's so much about me you don't know yet."

"Then tell me."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because you will try to fix it! And I'm also running away from things, Bruno, things I don't want to ever mention again! I came here to get a new life!"

"Well, we're going to be a team in this new life, I think I should know!"

You were both raising your voices, hands on your hips. You knew you were being unfair, because he wouldn't, couldn't understand you without a little bit of context. But you had no idea how to talk about something that still hurt so much, something you'd buried deep within yourself to avoid tainting the fresh start you'd been offered.

"Do you have any idea what it takes to get to Encanto?" You asked before you could stop yourself, your mind away from the words that were leaving your lips.

Bruno processed your question. No, he didn't. Thinking about it, it was weird that you'd managed to move into a town that was hidden by ancient magic. He had been so thankful you did that he hadn't even stopped to ask himself how you did it.

His silence answered for him.

"Well, it takes... a lot. It takes everything. It's not something anyone would do just because. So, please, let me move on and enjoy the fact that I'm no longer... where I was."

You voice wavered slightly. Your throat stung, but you refused to cry. You were happy in your new life, so happy, and there was only room for happy tears.

Bruno stared at you, stunned.

"I'm... God, I'm so sorry." He muttered.

"Don't apologize. Please. Let's just... keep enjoying what I've learned."

"And what's that?"

"That there's good people in this world and that they can be happy." You replied without missing a beat.

Bruno looked at you like he wanted to say something else, but he didn't. Instead, he opened his arms and hugged you as tight as he could. You sighed, releasing the tension that had built on your shoulders, and hugged him back.

You stayed like that for a few seconds until a voice interrupted you.

"Oh! Am I seeing things? My old eyes must be deceiving me."

Bruno shoved you away, hurriedly taking five steps backwards and pretending to lean nonchalantly on the wall opposite to yours. You just stood there, arms still open in an empty hug, watching the figure that had caused such reaction.

Peeking from a corner was the top half of doña Emilia's head.

"I heard you were getting married, Brunito, but I couldn't believe it. Now I see it's true! And she's even pretty!" She said.

You side-eyed Bruno, who seemed focused on counting the clouds.

"Excuse me, what?" You asked.

"Oh, so he hasn't proposed yet?" Asked the upper half of doña Emilia's face. "Well, it can't come as a surprise. You're both too old to wait. And it's coming from me!"

Now that was sort of offensive. You were discovering a new kind of young love, and even though you were well, WELL past what was considered the right age for marriage, you wouldn't consider you or Bruno to be too old to have a normal relationship that organically led to a wedding. Was everybody in Encanto getting married just because?

"Don't worry, Doña Emilia. When he proposes I will rush to tell you. Even more, Bruno here will let you know a day in advance. How does that sound?" You offered.

Bruno jumped alarmedly, hitting his elbow with a protruding brick and letting out the most carefully restrained chain of swears you'd ever heard.

"Miércoles, la madre, bendito autor de la vida gracias por tantito. Sana, sana..." He spit between his teeth, rubbing his elbow as he turned his back to doña Emilia.

Doña Emilia kept talking like nothing was going on.

"Wonderful, mija. I was very worried, you know? I though Alma would die without seeing Brunito start a family of his own." The old woman sighed whistfully. "He's a little..."

"Too romantic to marry out of duty? I know." You cut her. You closed the distance between you and Bruno and interlocked your arm with his. He winced, still refusing to look at the old woman. "Now, if you'll excuse us, doña Emilia, we're kind of late."

You sustained her scrutiny for a few seconds, and just like she had showed up, she left. Her wrinkly face slid behind the corner and you heard the faint taps of her cane getting further and further away.

Bruno was still trying to rub his elbow.

"Sana, sana, colita de rana. Si no sanas hoy, sanarás mañana." He muttered under his breath.

The corner of your lips quirked upwards involuntarily. You had no idea why it did that, since you were definitely focused on doña Emilia and not at all thinking about Bruno singing that to your children when they scraped their knees.

You must've looked like such a weird pair, one looking at a corner, one examining his arm. Then again, you were kind of weird.

After a short pause, Bruno dared to speak again.

"Lunch?" He asked.

You sighed. "Read my mind."

Bruno finally felt ready to show you his room.

He had been wary of bringing you up there (if only to avoid his mother's not-so-subtle comments about you spending the night or moving in altogether) but since he had tensed you up earlier he really wanted to make up for it. He also had his selfish motives, of course. Like wanting to see your face while you admired the decoration. 

Your eyes lit up when you spotted the cacti and the small, blue watering can, pointing out how you had the exact same one and it was "a sign of something". Bruno agreed. It was indeed a sign of something, because la Casita had only changed Pepa and Julieta's rooms into a family space after they had met their respective husbands.

You didn't know this, obviously. You knew very little about magic in general. You had seen the stairs move on their own, a couple of ripples on the tiles and Camilo transforming into him, but everyone was still trying to hold back until you had time to acclimate. So you just thought Bruno had the same watering can as you, and you found that sweet.

The basket you had been carrying was on the couch so you could walk around more freely. Bruno wanted to ask what was in it, but before that he just had to admire the display of elegance that was you exploring his room.

Because when he saw you kneel down to examine the lower shelves of his new bookcase, your hair thrown haphazardly over one shoulder and your long fingers caressing the old spines, he felt chills.

"I love romance novels." You confessed, reading the titles. "I used to have some of these."

"You can borrow anything you want."

You looked at him with a cheeky smile, because you probably had an idea of what he was thinking. However, Bruno was sure your humble nature wouldn't let you grasp just how moved he was by the sight of you in his room, the one you'd share one day. He was lucky you were so kind, because if you had told him to fetch you the moon he would be back in town, buying a ladder.

He knew he looked positively lovesick. He had to. But if he payed close attention to your sweet expression, overlooking every fact surrounding his physical appearance and awkward personality, he though maybe you looked a little lovesick as well.

"I have something for you."

You blurted the words out of nowhere, and it took him a second to catch up. By the time his mind came back to reality, you were already up and grabbing the small basket you had carried all the way there.

Damn. He should've offered to carry it for you. That's what boyfriends did, silly.

"It's not much." You warned. "But I made it in my spare time. I wanted to make it better, but then I wanted to give it to you as soon as possible so I'll make another one in the future, with more time. More options, you know?"

Bruno nodded even though he had no idea what you were talking about. You handed him the basket and he just held it.

"You're supposed to open it. You can keep the basket, but that's not the present."

A present. He didn't get many of those. He was a triplet, meaning he shared his birthday with two other people, and the celebrations that surrounded the date weren't exactly focused on him. Some of the townsfolk brought gifts for his sisters, but never for their weird ominous brother.

So there he stood, holding his first present in about forty years and trying to remember how one reacts to these things.

"It's- Do I open it?" He asked.

You nodded, biting your lip. Your eyes twinkled like a waterfall under the sunlight. He thought he even saw a rainbow.

"Okay." He laughed nervously. His head was bobbing unconsciously as he slowly came to terms with the fact that everything that was happening was real. "Okay, I'm opening it."

"Yes! Open it."

"Yes. Okay. Opening it."

But he wasn't moving. His hands were frozen around the little basket.

"Do you... need help?" You asked.

"Maybe. I don't know. This is... I'm lacking some practice here."

"It's okay, I can lift the lid if you want?"

"That would be very helpful, yeah, yes. Good thinking."

His eyes were glued to the basket as your hands slid over the weaved fibers. You tapped the lid with the tips of your fingers.

"Tres, dos, uno..."

With a yank, you pulled the basket open and threw the lid over your shoulder. Your arms were open wide in a static reverence, like an actor's at the end of a show.

"¡Tachán!" You said. "Do you like it?"

Bruno liked it. Bruno liked it so much he couldn't bring himself to speak. From the little basket, he pulled a new ruana, almost the same color as the one he was wearing but of much better quality. You had sewn it so carefully and nicely he just knew it would last him a lifetime. He swore himself then and there that he would protect and maintain the garment with his life.

His eyes lifted to look at you, and he definitely saw a rainbow. Nothing out of the ordinary, since he was holding back tears of joy and you were shining brighter than the sun.

"It's- You've made this? You? 'Ve made this? For me?" His voice came out smaller than he expected.

You were still waiting with your arms open, hoping for a hug or maybe even a kiss.

"Yes?"

Bruno's mind went blank. No thoughts. Only...

"I love you."

"What?"

"I do. I'm in love with you. I-" He immediately started removing his old ruana, muffling his own voice with the fabric as he fumbled to change into the new one. "Mhfmhm. Mhm. Mfffmhm."

"What?"

After a bit of struggling, his head finally came out of the new ruana's neck hole, his curls bouncing everywhere. He looked amazing. He felt amazing.

"I love you. I know I'm going too fast. I don't care. I'm a fifty year old man and I know what I want in life." He reached to grab your shoulders, shaking you slightly to drive his point home. "I. Love you. Scream if you must. I know what I feel."

Your brain felt fuzzy. You wanted nothing more than to tell him you felt the same way, but the words weren't finding its way out.

You did the second best thing. You grabbed his face and kissed him breathless, trying to show him how much he meant to you, how his presence had lit up your life in so many ways and in so little time.

Kissing him as you were, you didn't notice his eyes glowing in a familiar shade of green. His hands tightened around your shoulders, but you thought it was because he wanted to keep you close.

You didn't know Bruno was having the worst vision of his life. An outcome so bad he hadn't even considered worrying about it before, because he hadn't thought it possible. A future so bleak it would prompt him to do the unthinkable and challenge the only thing he knew for sure: that prophecies couldn't be changed.

With you in his arms, your lips linked with his, Bruno's life came tumbling down.

Chapter Text

You refused to cry. The tears were prickling on your eyes, stinging like wasps on your way down Bruno's tower, but you refused to cry. So many people had suffered so you could be happy and you WOULD BE HAPPY if it was the last thing you did. No matter what happened, you would keep your composture.

Downstairs, Alma had been waiting with Dolores until she was sure you had proposed. Your gift-giving and Bruno's confession had been severely misunderstood as proof of success, and the matriarch had sent everyone to their rooms so they could get changed into something fancy.

Had Dolores stayed behind, she would have probably heard why all of this was the worst possible thing to do to you. But she didn't. She went to her room, fixed her makeup and came back down to finish setting up your surprise party.

So when you finally showed up, shuffling your feet, all of the Madrigals clapped and cheered for your engagement. Mirabel and Camilo held a banner that said "WELCOME TO THE FAMILIA MADRIGAL". Isabela showered you with flowers. Agustín played a cheerful version of the wedding march on the piano.

You stood there, taking it all, until it became too much to bear. Then, you broke.

A sob left your throat. You covered your face with your hands and ran outside, towards your house, towards anywhere but there, far away from anyone and everyone that reminded you of Bruno.

The Madrigals froze.

"Ay, Dios..." Whispered Mirabel.

"Oh... oh no." Muttered Camilo.

Both teenagers immediately dropped the banner and rushed in opposite directions. Mirabel to check on her tío Bruno, and Camilo to catch up with you and ask you if you were okay.

Dolores stood close to Alma, covering her mouth with her hands.

"I- I thought..." She started.

But Alma stopped her.

"It's not your fault, mijita. Go rest." She said, rubbing her granddaughter's back gently. "We will fix... whatever this is."

Mirabel slammed her body against her uncle's door and started knocking hurriedly, knowing something was very wrong.

"¡Tío!" She yelled. "Tío, please, open the door. What happened?"

Nobody answered on the other side. Mirabel persisted.

"Tío, open the door! I'm not leaving until I see you!"

"G-go away!" Bruno's voice, muffled by the wood, came out shaky. Like he was crying.

This alarmed Mirabel, who clawed at the doorknob even though she knew it was a lost cause. He had locked himself in. She punched the golden sphere in anger, hurting her hand.

"I swear to god, tío, I'm not leaving! Open up or I will sleep here tonight!"

"I SAID GO AWAY!" Bruno ripped the door open, heaving and shaking. He looked awful, crazed. Mirabel barely recognized him.

His voice sounded raspy and cracked as he yelled at her. He looked like the evil Bruno that Camilo used to picture before he came back, his hair wild, his eyes puffy and feral and his clenched hands littered with bite marks. There were tear streaks on his cheeks, and his contorted face showed... no anger. Just raw hurt and self-hate.

"I'M YOUR UNCLE. IF I TELL YOU TO LEAVE ME ALONE, YOU LEAVE. ME. ALONE!" 

The last word broke with a sob. Bruno began hiperventilating, pressing his palms to his eyes to hold back the tears.

Seeing him act so derranged and erratic, Mirabel understood for the first time why people were scared of her sweet tío Bruno. But she knew him well, and if she ran away then it would confirm his suspicions that he was some type of horrible monster. He needed support. And that's exactly what family was for.

The teenager ignored her uncle's harsh words and placed a hand on his shoulder. Just like she expected, her uncle deflated like a popped balloon. Tears started streaming down his cheeks while he stood there, silent and defeated.

"Go... please..." Tried Bruno, pushing the words out with all the strength he had left.

"What happened?" Asked Mirabel.

Bruno let out a shaky sigh. He removed his niece's hand from himself.

"I happened." He whispered. "There's not much more to it."

"But..." Mirabel started.

Bruno shook his head, closing his eyes. His knees buckled and Mirabel rushed to hold him, keeping him steady as the sobs rippled through his hunched body. He wailed and whimpered, but what really struck Mirabel were the words he kept repeating. "I'm Bruno". "I'm Bruno".

After a lifetime of being blamed for things, there he was, blaming himself again. Mirabel had never seen her uncle more miserable. She didn't know exactly what happened, but it had to be awful. It had to be lower than the lowest low she had seen in her life, because her tío Bruno didn't even complain when she found him living precariously inside the walls of la Casita. He didn't make a peep when his family took him back and tried to help him become a part of the community, forcing him to mingle with people who hated him. He didn't even blink when he found a woman he thought was beautiful and resolved not to pursue her to make both of their lives easier.

But right then he was crumbling, crying in the arms of his niece like a mother who has lost a child, like someone who has lost something so precious and irreplaceable that they can't bear going on without it.

Mirabel's heart sank for her uncle. She felt a profound sense of unfairness. She thought that, after paying such a high prize for trying to do the right thing, her uncle would get to feel the warmth and comfort of love. She thought that, at his age, the matters of the heart ran themselves smoothly.

Bruno sobbed, and Mirabel didn't exactly know why. But she knew she couldn't say that things would get better, because after seeing what she had seen, she thought it might not be true.

Camilo ran after you with his heart beating on his throat. Something really bad had happened, something that had to do with his uncle Bruno. No matter how bad things had gotten, you had never cried before, so the teenager picked up his pace as he wondered what on Earth could have happened that hurt you so badly.

He ran into you soon enough. You had either tripped or chosen to sit on the ground, but either way you were covered in dust, sitting cross legged in the middle of the little path that led from la Casita to the village with your face buried in your hands. And you were crying. You were wailing and sniffing, coughing and shaking. It was awful.

"¿Tía?" He asked cautiously, approaching you from behind and tapping your shoulder.

You flinched, and your sobbing stopped. You tried to bury yourself between your own legs, using your skirt to hide your face. The fabric muffled your voice.

"Please, Camilo. Go away."

The teenager wasn't going anywere. He sat down by your side, rubbing your back while he stared at you with worried eyes.

"What happened?" He asked.

"Nothing happened."

"Really? This is nothing?"

You rose from your curled position, finally facing him. And what a sorry sight you were. The dust on your face had turned to mud from your tears, and your eyes were red and puffy. A streak of transparent snot ran from your nose to your chin.

"He..." You sniffed. "He asked me to leave."

"And that's why you're crying?"

"No, he... he asked me to leave forever. He told me not to talk to him ever again, to stay away from him and t-to... to..."

Your face contorted and your voice became a high pitched uninteligible noise as you started crying again. Camilo didn't understand. His uncle was in love with you. Madly so. What kind of stupid heroic deed did he think he was making by pushing you away?

The teenager patted your back.

"There, there... He's probably trying to protect you from something you know? He does that."

"Well?!" You slapped the ground, shaking your head indignantly between sobs. "Can't he just say that!? Does he have to be so... so..."

"Cryptic? He lived on the walls for ten years because he had a vision that we solved in like a month. He's a great guy, but he's a bit dramatic."

You wailed loudly, letting your head fall on Camilo's shoulder. He gave you an awkward one-armed hug. He wasn't very good with this, but he felt he had to try. To him, you were already a part of the family.

"Your tío can be very dumb." You stated with a soggy voice.

Camilo snorted. He squeezed you gently against his side, letting you wet his ruana with your tears.

"But we love him." He said.

You nodded against his chest. Your whole body quivered, and you cried over your almost-nephew's clothes for what felt like hours.

Camilo's chest was burning with determination. He wouldn't let Bruno ruin his own life again. As soon as you were safe and back in your house, he would let his tío know a couple of things.

"But that's good, tío!" Exclaimed Mirabel, patting her uncle's shoulder.

They both sat on Bruno's new sofa, alternating between long lapses of silent crying and a couple of mumbled sentences that gave the girl some context. So far, she knew Bruno had asked you to leave him alone forever, that he was still very much in love with you and that he had had a vision of you two getting married. None of it was connecting, but maybe if she waited a little more her uncle would eventually make some sense.

The man in question was bent like a rotten tree, his arms on his knees and his head hanging low between his shoulders. His long, unruly hair obscured his face, and made him very hard to understand.

"Shms..." He muttered.

"What?"

"She... she..."

His voice broke, and so the crying resumed. Mirabel rubbed her uncle's back, not as concerned as the first time but concerned nonetheless.

"Take your time. It's okay."

"No. No. I'm... Mirabel, I'm sorry." He sniffed. "You're a child. Leave me alone and I'll..."

"I'm not leaving. We covered that part." She insisted firmly. "Just take your time. Whenever you're ready."

Bruno nodded, burying his face in his hands again. He sobbed once, twice, and sniffed again.

"She..." He started. The struggle to push words out seemed impossible to handle. "She..."

"It's okay."

"No, she... Mirabel, she dies."

Mirabel felt her blood go ice cold. It might as well have left her body.

"What?"

Bruno nodded again, trying to keep his chest from breaking in half.

"She dies! The day after... the day after her wedding, she dies! It was on her... God, I can't..." He tried to clear his throat, but to no avail. It hurt to speak through the lump on his throat. "T-tombstone. It was on her tombstone. Don't make me say it ever again."

Mirabel's braincells finally found each other. Her expression fell from sad concern to absolute heartbreak.

"So... You told her to leave? Because if she doesn't marry you, she won't..."

Another nod. Bruno's lean shoulders shook under his niece's hand.

She tried to think, but the situation was hopeless. Her uncle had really taken the best possible course of action. Losing you hurt, but if the alternative was... Bruno would never let that happen. Not in a million years. He had done what he had to do.

'Tough luck', thought Mirabel bitterly. For the first time in her life, she gave up. It seemed like bad things always happened to Bruno, and if he ever recovered from this (something she doubted), they would probably keep happening until the day he died. She would be there to comfort him, to the best of her abilities. But maybe it was for the better that he stayed out of trouble.

She should've listened to her fortune-telling uncle from the beginning.

Chapter Text

A week had passed since Bruno told you to leave him alone forever, and he hadn't stepped out of his visions chamber once. He ate whatever Casita brought him whenever his body let him. He hummed the same sad songs over and over again, laying in a pile of sand with his eyes stuck to the ceiling. He slept through most of it. But when he was awake, he often closed his eyes and they glowed green. The sand picked up in a whirlwind. And when he opened them, he saw you in your wedding dress, smiling lovingly at him with your soft, tender lips.

He revisited that vision time and time again. The green tablets kept piling up, covering his motionless shape in a sickly light. He didn't bother to look at them: he just tossed them to the side and closed his eyes one more time, and there you were, in love with him. Just like he was in love with you. Everything was right as it should be, as it would have been had he not had that second vision.

The vision of himself sobbing bitterly on top of your grave.

His new ruana no longer smelled like you. It just smelled like sand and sweat. He had kept the basket, just like you told him, and sometimes he held it and cried. He was trying to stop doing that, though, because whenever he cried Dolores alerted someone to go check on him. And he was tired of telling people to leave.

"Brunito. Daily reminder to eat something." Julieta's voice came through the door. Sometimes it was her, sometimes Pepa, sometimes Mirabel or Camilo, but everyday somebody crawled upstairs to say exactly that.

Bruno rose from the pile of sand, feeling it trickle down his neck from the absolute mess that his hair must've been. His joints cracked painfully.

"Going." His voice was hoarse from not using it.

He couldn't fake eating, he had tried. Whoever was outside always waited until he gave the empty plate to la Casita, and even the damn building itself refused to deliver it if he just threw it away.

So he munched absentmindedly on some arepas con quesito that tasted like rocks.

"I'm eating." He announced with his mouth full.

"Good." Said Julieta. After a short pause, she continued. "Brunito... Why don't you come downstairs? We miss you, you know?"

"Hm. Ten more years."

"Brunito..."

Bruno sighed. He tossed the arepa back to the plate. The damn thing was covered in sand.

"I will live." He said. "Just, not right now. I want to sulk."

"But this is not how you get over things. You need to go out, see the sun and-"

"The sun is unfair." Bruno interrupted her. He was tired of hearing the same things. So, so tired. His voice was barely a whisper. "How does the sun even dare to come out? How do you all keep waking up and... and having breakfast every morning? The world has stopped. Poof. Just like that. And noone has noticed. Just... Bruno."

His voice broke, but he barely had any tears left to cry. He just made strangled noises, trying not to hyperventilate.

"That's not true, Brunito." Julieta, the voice of reason, tried to explain. "You're heartbroken, but that's just a part of life. You will eventually feel better if you give it a chance."

"I've spent my life heartbroken. This is worse. So much worse."

Julieta softly placed her hand over the locked doorknob, trying to hold her brother through the distance. It was going to be one of those days.

Her knees creaked when she sat down on the floor, prepared to wait for hours until the empty plate finally showed up. Inside the visions cave, Bruno closed his eyes again, and they glowed green.

At least you were alive. At least you were safe. Every ounce of pain was worth it.

You rubbed your eyes for the upteenth time and tried to focus on your task. You used to be a fast and effective seamstress, but these days you did everything at a snail's pace. Every stitch felt deliberate, every cut was done with parsimony, and inside of your chest a dark void threatened to swallow you whole. You were the saddest you had ever been, quite the achievement. Because you did love Bruno, and you suspected he still loved you back.

You didn't know what made him change his mind about you, but you remembered his face when you broke that last kiss. Shock. Fear. Sorrow. Resolution. There were tears in his eyes, but his voice didn't shake when he explained that he never wanted to see you again. You asked him why. He didn't respond, staring at you defiantly until you finally left.

As soon as you closed the door, you heard him cry.

You had also cried for the first time since you arrived to Encanto, and you felt guilty about it. You had promised your mother you would live the happiest life a woman could wish for, and you had failed her. So every time you cried, you apologized.

A week had gone by between tears and apologies, and not a single one of the things you had to do were finished. People were patient with you, but you weren't. So you kept sewing and poking your fingers, and crying about it and apologizing to your mother's ghost. The happiest life a woman could wish for. So much for that.

You rose from your seat, feeling the familiar itch in the corners of your eyes, and headed straight to Bruno's carving of you, the gift that made you realize he wasn't all that bad. You looked beautiful there, smiling and waving. You wondered if that's how he saw you. Always happy and welcoming. Such a sweet concept of you, yet so far from reality.

Pressing your lips against the carving, you prayed for a solution. Anything that took the void away. Anything that made you feel whole. A purpose. A happy ending.

Anything but what happened next.

You heard a knock on your door. You saw a face you never expected to see again. A sweet, coy smile from the other side of the window. A voice that sometimes still crept inside your dreams talked to you through the thin glass.

"Hola, mi niña."

The knot on your throat tightened, but not from sadness. From fear.

"¿P-papá?"

Chapter Text

Your working stool tumbled and bounced on the wooden floorboards as you rushed outside to hug your father. Your door was brutally pulled open, slamming against your little mirror and breaking it in half. You didn't even notice. Your dad, who swore he'd never go back to Encanto, was there. He had come back for you.

"Papá..." There was a lump on your throat. Fear. Longing. Sadness. Your father's arms held you like they used to when you were a kid, sort of distant, but present. "Dios mío... I thought I'd never see you again. I thought-"

"What, you're surprised?" You father laughed. "You thought I wouldn't come by my old hometown to visit my little hijita?"

Your lip quivered. His little hijita, that's what you were. You hadn't heard those words since you were seven, and you craved them like water in the desert.

You had wondered for so long why he didn't love you like other fathers loved their children. Why he never stayed home for too long. He showed up every now and then with a bunch of coin and no explanations, so you grew up with the constant back and forth of wanting to accept his flaws and feeling like garbage whenever he left without saying goodbye.

It was only a few years ago that you decided he just didn't care about you. And boom, there he was. Proving you wrong.

"I... Yes?" You started. "I'm surprised. I thought they kicked you out of Encanto."

Your father patted your back, signaling it was time to break the hug, and you obeyed. His smile never reached his eyes, but there was a certain fondness in the way his hand lingered on your shoulder. Like he was proud of you.

"You can take the man out of Encanto but you can never take the encanto out of the man." He joked. "A father is supposed to take risks for his only daughter."

You smiled for the first time in days. Wow. Your father, back... and away from the life. He could live there with you and help you with the shop. He could even find a job of his own, he was pretty handy. You could go back to being a family, no goons, no secrets, no nothing. Just father and daughter. What you always wanted.

"Well, do you want a glass of water? Can I get you anything?" You offered.

Your father grabbed you hand between his, chuckling lightly.

"Nah, no. Thank you, but... we're actually leaving right now."

Your mind took a second to catch up with his words.

"What?"

"Yeah." Your father spoke nonchalantly. "You don't even need to pack, your bedroom is just as you left it."

So you had heard right. You father was there to take you back home. But... why? Had the news about you and Bruno reached him somehow? Was he trying to save you from sinking into a pit of despair?

"I... I don't know what to say." You spoke honestly. "I don't even have a horse."

"Bebita... Did you think I wouldn't buy a horse for my little treasure?"

Of course he did. He could afford five horses, and he liked to pamper his family.

"But... I have a job and a house. I can't just leave." You tried.

Your father sighed. He dropped your hand, and your heart sank to the pits of hell.

You'd done it.

You had disappointed him again.

Something inside you tried to comply with everything he said, but you had worked very hard to set healthy boundaries and you really didn't want to leave Encanto. Not like that. Not when you still could fix things with your- with Bruno.

"You don't want to help. I get it, don't worry." Muttered your dad, shaking his head. "I haven't been exactly the best papá, have I?"

"You tried. I understand. But I can't just..."

"Look." Your father cut you, his voice somber. "I didn't want to tell you this, but I guess you're old enough to know. I've... been very successful in life. I've worked hard for you and your mother. And that made some people jealous. So now... I'm in a bit of a pickle, bebita. And I didn't want to come here just for this, but... as it turns out, I need you. After fighting all my life to keep you clothed and fed, away from trouble, I... Asking for your help breaks my heart."

Your chest clenched. He wasn't out of the life, after all.

"W-who is it? Andrés?"

"No, Dios, no." Your father lifted his hands as if pushing the idea away. "Andrés died. Miguel shot him, he's in jail now. No, it's... it's Rodriguito."

"¿Rodriguito?" You tilted your head. "What do you have to do with him? I thought he had stepped out of it."

Your father huffed, he shuffled his feet uncomfortably. He all but started pacing, irritated.

"Bebita, don't ask me about the life. It's not for women."

"I'm sorry, but I thought you wanted me to help you."

"No, I'M sorry. This was a bad idea. I should have respected your wishes. I'm leaving."

He rubbed his balding head anxiously and began to walk away, turning around twice to check if you were watching. Classic dad. The poor thing didn't know how to ask for help.

You had a semi-clear idea of what your father wanted you to do. Rodriguito had been your closest friend growing up, and he still had a soft spot for you. A weird, twisted soft spot that made you sick, but a soft spot nonetheless.

He also had a shotgun that he frequently used. Your father probably thought that you could talk him out of his murderous intentions.

You sighed, watching your dad walk away at a snail's pace as the small bites of remorse attacked your resolution. Encanto was looking pretty bleak lately, and even though your father was distant, he was finally trying to love you the right way. And you loved him. You loved him so much that it didn't matter how many times he hurt you: you would always be there to make him proud.

"Okay." You softly called in his direction. He jumped to face you like a spring, his smile back. Still not reaching his eyes. "Let's go then. Let me grab one thing."

"You're the best daughter a father could wish for. I don't deserve you."

A tiny voice inside you screamed 'No, no you don't!'. You shut it up immediately.

Securing Bruno's carving inside your pocket, you took one last look at your tiny one-room home. Goodbye, Encanto. Goodbye, Bruno.

Outside, your dad rolled his tense shoulders, relieved. That had been easier than he expected. By the time he told you what he actually wanted you to do, you would be trapped outside of Encanto. Back to him. Safe under his care.

Bruno woke up startled. He had dreamed about you again, but this time you were crying. He didn't remember why, but he remembered your face contorted in grief, the tears running down your cheeks as you chocked on your sobs, and how he had felt so... helpless. He couldn't comfort you no matter what he tried. And the more you cried, the more he felt like crying as well.

It was just a dream, of course. He doubted you were crying for him after how he had treated you.

With a groan, Bruno tried to support himself on his elbows, looking for the plate of arepas he had left mostly untouched. They were no longer there, so his empty stomach would have to wait until the next day. What time was it anyway? He had no way of knowing, and only a slight wish to find out.

With no food and no Julieta waiting for him to finish it, there was only one thing left to do. He struggled against the mound of sand until he was sitting down cross-legged, closing his eyes to head back into his favourite vision.

His irises glowed green. The sand flew around him. He focused his intention, searching for the answer right where he had left it. 'The wedding', he thought. 'I want to see the wedding'.

But when he opened his eyes, there was only sand. 

He squinted, forcing the shapes out from within himself, but they just weren't there. You weren't there at all.

Feeling his panic rise, Bruno sought for your death. It wasn't there either. Your lunch for the next day? Nothing. Your cacti? Drowned by Pepa's rain in three days.

Bruno stood up, pacing around inside the whirlwind of sand, trying to find you anywhere. You weren't with Carlota, nor Mirabel, nor Alma. He checked anyone he could think of and you just weren't in their futures, not even in passing.

God. Oh, God. Had he done it? Had he screwed up by trying to change the future?

The sand picked up around him, turning into a hurricane of tiny granules that pierced his skin mercilessly. The market? Nothing. Doña Emilia? Nothing. The goddamned plaza? Absolutely nothing. The more he checked, the more anxious he got. Were you okay? Were you dead? Where the hell were you?

Not bothering to wait for the sand to fall back to the ground, he reached the door in three long strides and pulled it open violently. Dust followed him, enveloping his silhouette in a coarse fog as he rushed to the stairs. Casita helped him reach the bottom faster, creating a slide that he jumped into without hesitation.

When he landed, his hood fell to cover his face. The cloud of sand expanded around him like smoke, adding to the ominous feel of the scene.

Mirabel's mouth fell open.

"¿Tío Bruno?" She asked.

"Nope." He replied.

He left without saying anything else, headed towards your house. You better be okay. You better be safe and happy. You better be alive, because if you weren't, Dios sabe que he would leave no stones unturned until he found the way to reverse death itself.

Carlota groaned in pain, feeling her unborn child's kick on the ribs. What a strong little boy, so full of life. What a blessing. She hoped he was punctual as well, because she wouldn't be able to handle pregnancy for much longer.

"¡Cariño!" She called. "Could you come here? I've dropped my rag and our son is working against me!"

Her husband's voice came from the living room.

"One second!"

So she waited. And as she did, she looked out the window.

She had noticed you leaving your house the previous day with a man who looked just like you (your father, most likely) and she hadn't seen you again since. Her cravings often took her to the kitchen, where the windows faced yours, and there hadn't been a sign of you. No noises, no moving of the curtains, no crying... Nothing. Carlota didn't fancy herself to be your friend, but she cared a bit if you lived or died. She was... something akin to worried. Okay, maybe she was worried.

"You've spent an awful lot of time cleaning the windows today." Commented Arturo as he handed the rag to his wife.

"Yeah... The seamstress hasn't slept home today. I'm getting concerned."

"Concerned? Or curious?"

Carlota chuckled, turning away from the window to face her husband's mischievous expression.

"Okay, maybe a bit curious."

"Well, then you probably don't wanna miss that." Said her husband, pointing towards your house.

Carlota's body jumped automatically to gossip mode, and she all but pressed her nose to the glass to find an unsettling scene. Bruno Madrigal, the man you were supposedly engaged to, ran down the street with his hood up followed by a mighty cloud of light brown smoke.

"Damn..." Muttered Carlota.

"Yeah. Maybe they had a fight?" Offered Arturo.

Without looking away, Carlota playfully slapped him with the rag.

"Don't elucubrate. We know nothing about these people."

The couple stayed put by the window for a few minutes after Bruno disappeared inside your home, waiting for something else to happen. But it didn't, so they left. Had they waited for an hour, if somebody had that kind of patience, they would have seen the ominous fortune teller leave defeatedly, slouching on his way home with a piece of folded paper crumpled between his fingers.

Chapter Text

Bruno felt like a circus acrobat, dancing through the situation of needing to find you while he faced the terrifying possibility of finding whatever was left of you. It was vital that he kept all the plates spinning, and he knew he could do it if he organized his very troubled mind in a numbered checklist.

Step one: Go to your house. Check.

He had found the broken mirror by your door, and obvious signs of violent struggle. A mess of rolls of fabric halphazardly thrown all over the floor, your working stool tipped over, a bunch of folded papers scattered by the window... Either you were really messy, or there had been some sort of fight.

The papers gave him no clues, they were mostly congratulating you on your engagement. Showing acceptance of Bruno Madrigal as your husband to be. Side task: Cry for about twenty minutes over what could have been. Camilo had sent one, the little piece of heaven. Very nice and heartfelt. Bruno kept it as a memento.

Step two: Ask Dolores to listen to your heartbeat. Check.

She did so with all of her might, but found nothing. Either your heart wasn't beating anymore or you had left Encanto. Dolores' gift, like everyone else's, was constrained to the limits of the magical barrier. Bad, but not hopeless.

Step three: Ask Antonio, a literal five year old child, to send his animals in search of your remains. Check.

Every single living thing in Encanto, from the biggest jaguar to the smallest lemur, combed the jungle for an entire day. They found nothing. Very good! Nothing was better than something, in this case.

Time for step four: Tell his mother everything and hope she fixed it. Check.

Alma had gripped her cane with white knuckles and left la Casita immediately. Not even a glance towards her shawl, not even a word towards her son. That probably meant she was on it.

Step five, the final step and the worst of them all: Wait for Alma to bring in the news. Bruno was currently handling that one, and he was doing as good of a job as could be expected.

"Made you some tea." Muttered Camilo, emerging from the kitchen with a streaming cup of the stuff.

Bruno nodded, not tearing his eyes from the front door. He sat by it every day, bouncing his leg, from the moment his mother left to the moment she came back with a somber expression. Four days so far. Six since he stopped being able to see you in his visions. Since you left, or were taken.

Camilo sat cross-legged next to his uncle's chair. He guided Bruno's hand to the handle of the cup of tea and let him hold it, gently moving his arm so he could lift it to his lips.

"Blow." 

Bruno obeyed, making a small o with his lips and blowing some cold air.

"Now drink."

Camilo stretched his body to reach the cup, tilting it so the drink poured inside his uncle's mouth. Some of it dripped down his chin.

"Oops."

The teenager stood up and gently cleaned Bruno's face with the edge of his yellow ruana. Still no response. He sighed.

"You know what? We can try later." He said, removing the cup from the man.

Bruno nodded, still holding the invisible cup of tea in front of his face. Still staring at the closed door.

Camilo considered himself to be an optimist, most of the time. He wasn't a fool, he knew bad things happened, but he was generally more oriented towards solving problems than towards lamenting. However, your disappearance was making a number on his cheerful nature. He was worried all the time. Moved to tears by a gust of wind. Mostly silent, for a change. Hearbroken for his uncle.

"We will find her, you know?" He tried. "Abuela will come through that door any time now, with good news. We will find her and she will be safe."

He didn't know if he was telling his uncle or himself, but all he got was another nod.

Okay. Staring at the door and nodding, he could do that as well.

So he sat and he stared, and after who knows how long he felt Mirabel's body creeping behind him to sit by his side. All three of them, sitting and staring. Waiting for the good news that, no doubt, would arrive any time now.

When the door opened, they all jumped.

"Mamá!" Yelled Bruno, his voice coarse. He stood up, toppling the chair over, and rushed to the door. "Good news? Bad news? Any news?"

Alma Madrigal entered the house parsimoniously, placing a hand over her son's soulder with a grave expression. Behind her, doña Emilia slipped inside. She was sporting a shit-eating grin, the shit-eating grin of someone who finally has vital information after years of trying.

"Doña Emilia? What is she doing here?" The words left Camilo's tongue before he could stop them. Mirabel slapped his arm reproachfully. Luckily, Alma paid him no mind.

"We've done a bit of investigating, Brunito." The old matriarch explained. "We wanted to check before telling you, but she seems to have left Encanto to live with her father."

Bruno's eyebrows curled up in confusion.

"Her father? She... she told me she didn't have one." He asked.

Alma nodded, moving her open hand in doña Emilia's direction.

"Doña Emilia was thankfully nearby and recognized him. He was born in Encanto seventy-five years ago, then left when he was twenty. He moved to a small village, only two days by horse from here. That's were she is."

"That's where..." Bruno's head was steaming, trying to complete the puzzle. He blinked in slow motion. "But... she hates that place. She told me she had to go through something... awful to escape."

Doña Emilia saw her chance to shine and seized it without a second thought.

"And I could tell you exactly what it was, mijo! I wrote to her dad, and he told me everything!"

Everyone's attention, including Bruno's, snapped from Alma to the old gossip. Doña Emilia rejoiced in it for a second before going on with her speech.

"You see, the seamstress' father can come and go as he pleases because he was born here, but she wasn't! So how did she get in, you must be asking yourselves..."

"Yes, we are." Mirabel deadpanned.

"Well! She does have some of the blood, you see. The good Encanto blood, and when you have that you just need a little reminder! A bit of magic! A small, tiny miracle born from pain and grief, like this one was!"

Bruno was losing his patience.

"Doña Emilia, with all due respect, if you don't get to the point in the next ten seconds I will go to your house every day and pee on your garden." He said before quickly turning towards his niece and nephew. "And you heard nothing."

Camilo and Mirabel nodded, actually keeping the threat in their minds to use later. Alma sniffed, displeased, but secretly thankful that someone was telling doña Emilia to hurry up.

Doña Emilia, on the other hand, couldn't be happier about the sheer desperation everyone showed. She had information. Mighty information. She felt young again.

"Ay, mijito." The old woman snickered. "See, her mother fell victim to a very strange illness. Poison, actually, from one of her father's friends, but she doesn't know that." She dismissed that bit with a shake of her hand, then pointed with her crooked index finger towards the ceiling to remark the importance of what came next. "But her mamá's death allowed her to enter, JUST ONCE! When she was in her deathbed, she told the seamstress to move here, where none of her father's aquaintances could reach her! He's an awful man, so many murders and violence all the time. Like a mafia thing, but of course to a much smaller scale. When he was a kid I already suspected he would end up like that, because..."

"And he told you that in a letter?" Camilo's eyebrows shot up incredulously. "We're so lucky her father is the only mafia boss who can't keep a single thing from his life private."

Doña Emilia frowned, dismissing the kid with a 'pah'. She grabbed her walking cane with both hands to feign dignity.

"That's not what he told me, mijo. Obviously. I heard some of it here and there. But I see you're not interested in hearing anything else."

Bruno pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to hold back the urge to hit an old lady.

"What did the letter say, if you don't mind telling me? The devastated fiance left behind? The man who will pee on your orchids?" He said.

"Ah, nothing really." Doña Emilia shrugged. "She's getting married tomorrow. Arranged by her dad, it seems. Happens all the time."

Something inside Bruno deflated. So you had left out of your own will with your father, to fulfill his wishes with an arranged marriage. Probably to some sort of mafia connection, if doña Emilia's infomation and the crumbs you had been dropping in conversation meant something. The next day, by that time, you would be a married woman.

A married woman.

Married...

MARRIED!

NO!

YOU DIED THE DAY AFTER YOUR WEDDING!

Bruno's eyes opened like saucers.

"Oh... oh... no, no, no..." He muttered.

He turned on himself once, twice, three times. His hands shot to his head, pulling at his curls.

"MAMÁ! A HORSE!" He yelled.

Alma nodded, indicating Camilo and Mirabel to go fetch it with a gesture.

Bruno turned towards doña Emilia.

"The name of her village. What is it." He commanded.

Doña Emilia thought for a moment.

"Oh... I... don't remember."

Bruno grabbed the woman by her shoulders, using all of his willpower to refrain from shaking her senseless.

"What do you mean you don't remember!? Remember! I have to get there before she..."

"It's on the letter."

"I have to go to your house, find the letter and get there before she..."

"Oh, I have it on me."

"WELL? DO I HAVE TO ASK OR ARE YOU GOING TO GIVE IT TO ME?"

"I know doña Alma raised you better than this..."

Doña Emilia searched her pocket for the letter and handed it to Bruno. He snatched it and left the house without saying goodbye, headed towards the stables.

Alma followed her son with her eyes, silently worried.

"You know, he's not gonna make it. It's two days by horse! Two!" Quipped doña Emilia.

The oldest Madrigal, protector of Encanto, closed her eyes tiredly.

"Thank you, Emilia. Now shut the fuck up." She sighed.

Chapter Text

Bruno knew plenty about galloping valiantly to stop the wedding of a loved one. He had read about it, watched it on telenovelas and written about it a million times. But as he found himself trying to do just that, he came to a bitter realization: it just couldn't be done. One can't make a horse sprint for two days without carrying its death on one's conscience.

So, even in a life or death scenario like that one, the best Bruno could do was stop as little as possible and hope the horse did his part. Trotting was fine as long as the terrain allowed it, he supposed. It was fast enough. And he could always walk you back if the horse called it quits.

But whenever the horse started huffing and puffing and Bruno had to leave the trail in search of water, anxiety ate him alive.

He was so close already. To your village. To your expiration date. To his complete and utter happiness.

Bruno patted the horse's neck with a frown, getting a sudden head movement and a little scare in return.

"C'mon, boy. Drink up. Big sip." He tried to ignite some passion for duty into the animal.

If one could ask the horse, who was in fact a mare, one would find she wasn't at all in a hurry.

Bruno sighed. His hands were shaky. His everything was shaky. The world was shaky, about to fall down the edge of a bottomless pit, and Bruno was trying to hold it with the only help of a thirsty horse that he was mistreating badly.

"This is very hard. I'm sorry, okay?" He whispered apologetically. 

The mare didn't even bat an ear.

"I know you don't understand me at all, I know you must be worried about your own... horse stuff right now, and, and- I know you think I'm crazy for trying!" Bruno chuckled, something that made him look a bit crazy indeed. "There's no way we can make it on time! And I would have agreed with you a month ago, but... I fell in love with this amazing woman, and you know what? She deserves this. Me trying. You trying. Us, galloping in town, even if we are a bit late. She would have done the same, hell, she would have been merciless with you! She... she just..." Bruno's speech deflated. His nose was itchy, a telltale sign of incoming tears. He swallowed the lump on his throat. "She just loves me so much. And I love her. And if she dies, like the vision said, like I SAID... Then what's the point of this, huh?"

He sniffed, wiping his nose with his sleeve. The horse mercifully stopped drinking.

"C'mon, boy. Let's go get her. If you think this is bad, remember you have to carry two people back." Muttered Bruno, grabbing the reigns.

Bruno heard the church bells before he saw the houses. Celebratory tolls for an event, a wedding, the wedding he was about to stop. He had been riding for fuck cares how long, his legs were numb and his hands sported the half-moon markings of his nails on the palms. But he was there. Inexplicably. Miraculously on time.

As soon as Bruno saw the edge of your village, goddamned be the horse, he started galloping.

The drumming of the hoofs accompained the one of his heart, currently beating somewhere behind his tongue. The bells kept swaying, the tolls got louder, and he was closer and closer to the church. He could see the flowers, so many flowers of every colour dripping down the stone walls.

The horse wheezed, white foam pooling around her mouth as she exhausted the last of her strength. Bruno pulled on the reigns violently, making her stop right in front of the wooden double doors. He jumped from the saddle and walked determinedly towards them, pushing with both hands and the powerful energy of a telenovela protagonist.

"STOP THIS! I LOVE THIS WOMAN AND SHE LOVES ME BACK!" He yelled with his deepest voice, stepping inside the tiled floors with his dirty sandals.

Everyone turned around to look at the short, lanky man that was screaming by the door, covered in dust. His sunken eyes were darker than the nightsky. His legs buckled, making him fall to his knees as he took in the scene.

"I lo... I love her..." He wheezed. "I lo..."

Your father stood up from his seat, right by your closed casket. Next to him, an old painting of you seemed to smile at Bruno.

"I'm sure she knew, buddy." His voice was laced with threat. "Now, can anyone get this lunatic out of my daughter's funeral? Thank you."

The defeated man didn't put up a fight when two men threw him outside. Because he knew, he knew he was late. He could tell day from night. He had chosen to ignore it, and the bells had reignited his hope for a second, but he knew he had arrived an entire day too late.

So he waited on the street, sitting on the ground, staring at the flowers. He waited next to the exhausted mare until everyone left, and then he fulfilled his own prophecy.

He crossed the fence to the back of the church, curled up on top of your freshly dug grave, and cried until he fell asleep.

'BELOVED WIFE AND DAUGHTER. GONE TOO SOON, THE DAY AFTER HER WEDDING.' Your tombstone read. Just like Bruno knew it would.

Deep in the jungle, about a day by horse away from the sorry scene, an equally determined person rode along a small trail with a destination in mind and no clear way to get to it. Their figure was covered by a dark cloak, finely crafted. Their hands curled over a mistreated map with four interrogations drawn over a specific mountain. Inside their pocket, a wooden carving reminded them of why they had asked their father to help them fake their death after fulfilling the deal.

Because the dark figure that rode through the jungle was obviously you. Not dead in the slightest, but you might as well be since apparently leaving Encanto meant never getting back in unless you were born there.

But what was the harm in trying to defeat a miracle's magic just once?

Chapter Text

Your father seemed sad when he asked you to marry Rodriguito. Well, he didn't exactly ask. He told you the conditions of the deal that would join both families and save his guts and let you freak out until you agreed on one condition. But he did it with a resigned expression, and that had to mean something.

The condition was, of course, that you would book it back to Encanto the very next day. You didn't listen to any rule or reason about the miracle and its mysterious workings, telling your father that you would cross that bridge when you got to it and to focus on helping, not on causing more problems. Your dad had lied to you, pulled you out of a life that your mother had died for, and some sort of regret must've been crawling under his skin. Because he suggested a plan so fragile and complicated that it just had to work.

Step 1: You went through with the ceremony, smiling at the guests and kissing your new husband. Rodriguito was as rude and violent as you last remembered him, so you felt no guilt over it. You felt nothing, really. Just determination to get back to Bruno and tell him you needed him.

Step 2: You pretended to feel sick during the banquet. Only your father stood up to help you, guiding you to his house as you gasped for air. Rodriguito barely noticed you leaving, but you made a show of it to anyone that crossed paths with you.

Step 3, where it got dangerous: Your father bribed a doctor to confirm you were dead. You laid on your bed, motionless, as Rodriguito and his father came in to check. You thought they would catch you, but they barely gave you a glance before leaving to discuss the inheritance.

Step 4, plain stupid: You grabbed as many things as you could, saddled your new horse and said goodbye to your father. Headed who knows where, who knows how. With nothing but an imprecise map to guide you.

Foolproof, really. Less than 24 hours after your arrival, your father was saved and you were set to leave. You had nothing but the vague notion of 'sacrifice' as the key to break through the spell, but you were more than willing to set a campsite by the barrier and use trial and error. Maybe that would give you some time to think about your relationship and how to save it.

Everything was ready, you were outside and your cloak was tight around your neck. You took a deep breath. Before leaving forever, you turned around.

"Come with me, dad." You simply offered. You didn't cry, didn't beg. You were still angry, but you loved him, and if he left with you it would be enough to make up for it.

Your father shook his head with tears in his eyes.

"I... I can't, mi niña." He whispered. "I know you think I don't care, but your mother's buried here. I can't leave her. I'm sorry for this, but everything I've done... It really was for you."

You nodded, still staring at him. Waiting.

"Y-You have to leave before someone sees you, bebita. Hurry." Tried your father.

But you didn't move.

"I love you, papá." You finally said. "You did your best. Thank you. For everything."

"I- B-bebita mía...." Your father's voice was shaky. "C'mere."

Your body slammed against his in a violent last hug. You both cried. Buried in your father's shoulder, you felt his hand combing through your hair, like he sometimes did when you had a nightmare as a kid.

"I love you too, bebita." He said. "And I'm so, so proud of you."

You nodded. After what felt like hours, you let go of your father and looked at him, sniffing. He wiped your tears with his thumb.

"I will visit, okay? I swear I will."

"I know you will. I love you."

"Me too. Now hurry."

And hurry you did, sneaking out the outskirts of the village without looking back. You regretted not visiting your mother's grave, but there were more pressing matters at hand.

Like how the hell you were going to break Encanto's magical barrier before you ran out of food and water in the middle of the jungle, for example.

Four days since you died and Bruno's stomach still hurt. Maybe it would hurt forever. No matter how many miraculous arepas he ate, nothing seemed to fix the burning from the red hot iron pebble he must've swallowed accidentally when he dissolved behind that church.

Encanto held a much smaller service in your memory, the Madrigals and Carlota's family being the only people dressed in black. Alma spoke about your cheerful nature and sense of duty, something that ultimately caused your early demise. Bruno stood quietly behind his sisters, holding his neighbour's sympathetic gazes with a resigned expression.

Because it was his fault, like it always was. If he hadn't pushed you away, you would still be there.

He didn't think he would ever recover from losing you. He still tried to fight the grief every day for the people that loved him, but deep down there was something broken that couldn't be fixed. So he worked on whatever was salvageable with baby steps, one day at a time. Just to keep up the appearances.

No visions for now, but he ate with his family. He slept a lot, he showered twice and he watered the cacti on his (your) windowsill with his (your) small, blue watering can.

Sometimes he looked at it and promised he would go back to your house to clean it up, but he never did because he was too scared to find himself standing in the middle of your unfinished work. Dresses, blouses and scraps of fabric that would never know their purpose. A bit like him.

On the evening of the fourth day, Bruno did something new. Something he hadn't done before, not even prior to meeting you.

He didn't know why, but he felt the sudden urge to sit outside, by the door of la Casita, and stare at the little path that headed to the village. You had kissed him there once, he remembered. Could one live forever on one kiss? He guessed he would have to find out.

A shapeless figure rode a horse in the far distance, and Bruno's heart fluttered. For a second, he imagined you came back from the dead, riding a skeletal horse to his doorstep, and kissed him one last time. Maybe twice, for good measure.

He sighed, shaking his head. His imagination was too wild. He had to control his thoughts because, as things were, they would do him no good.

On the dawn of your second day by the barrier, you ran out of water

It had been a severe case of miscalculation on your part, since you thought you had enough for at least a week, but you had cut your hand badly and the only way to get it clean had involved giving up almost half of your supplies. Add the heat of the jungle and the tiresome journey, and you found yourself there. No progress. No clues. No water.

You had tried so many things: praying, sage, salt, demonic invocation, a blood offering... All to no avail. You were standing right by the fall where your first date with Bruno took place, any signs of civilization hidden by the encanto. As far as you knew, Bruno could be right by your side and none of you would know. But if you managed to find the answer, if you got it just right, a trail should appear somewhere to your left. You kept failing, and checking for the trail, and finding nothing. It was the most frustrating thing you had done in your life.

Your mind curled and swirled around the word 'sacrifice'. A sacrifice had to be made. A sacrifice that came from a place of... true love, or something like that. A sacrifice that involved murder, as far as you knew. And if you didn't get it right in two days or less, you could forget about the sacrifice being anything but you.

Your eyes drifted towards your horse a couple times, but you felt bad just for thinking about it. The poor thing wasn't to blame for anything. He had brought you there valiantly, missing out on sleep and water for as long as he was able to so you could sit there and do nothing for two days. You wouldn't carry his death on your conscience.

So you grabbed the only other thing that mattered anything to you. Bruno's wooden carving, glistening under the golden light of the evening's sun.

Your smiling face waved at you, almost mocking your efforts.

If that didn't work, you would leave.

A little pile of broken twigs wasn't enough to create a mighty bonfire, but you blowed on it until it burned as lively as it could. You stared at the carving one last time and threw it in the middle of it. And nothing happened. Another failure, and now you had nothing that reminded you of the man you loved. What a waste of time.

You sighed, grabbing your things and hanging them from the saddle. The closest village, apart from your own, was about five days away. Maybe you would find some water on the way there, and maybe you would find someone from Encanto that could deliver a letter to the Madrigals. Very unlikely, but worth trying since you had nowhere else to go.

The clearing was as lovely as you remembered it, at least. You took it in for the last time, trying to find the place where Bruno had set up the plushy blanket. It must've been somewhere over there, between the little bush shaped like a crouched man and the little path that led to Encanto.

Your eyes jumped from the bush to the path, trying to pinpoint the exact spot from other references. Yeah, about there. About five meters away from the bush, and three meters away from the dusty trail. Satisfied, you climbed the horse and sunk your heels on his sides, making him walk.

Wait... the path. It was there.

THE PATH WAS THERE.

You forgot you were on top of a horse for a second, twisting your body to run towards la Casita. The horse luckily understood your intentions, turning around with you, but the momentum was too much and you fell face first on the long, unkept blades of grass. You spat the dirt that had filled your mouth through the gaps in your wild smile.

"IT WORKED!" You pointed at your faithful companion, laughing. "TO ALL THE NEIGHSAYERS! TODAY, WE RIDE!"

The horse didn't share his opinion on your current mental state. He just waited patiently until you climbed back up, and promptly broke into a frenzied run towards Bruno. If he could express his thoughts, it would be something like 'I'm way too old for this'.

Your own thoughts weren't very clear, but they went something like "Brunobrunobrunobruno". You flew past the jungle, past the houses, ignoring the screams of the people that saw you (a ghost) ride by them in a black cloak and laughing manically. Your own house didn't seem worthy of even a glance, since you skipped it altogether in your hurry to get to la Casita.

In the far distance, you could see it. The colourful mansion, taken right out of a fairytale. You forced the horse to go faster than he could safely run, and he complied because by that point he was a bit invested.

As you got closer, your bubbling chuckles of sheer joy became bubbling chuckles of sheer relief. Because right there, next to the door, sat a small green dot that you knew too well.

Chapter Text

Bruno was getting a bit worried. The person he had spotted riding in the distance was approaching rapidly. It's not like he never got visits, so that wasn't concerning in itself, but when he squinted to make up the intruder's face he found exactly what he hoped for. And that was VERY concerning. Because it was impossible.

It was unmistakably you, your hair whipping around you wildly, your cloak floating behind you like a set of black wings as you galloped towards him. You were laughing, he could hear. But you were also buried in a little village two days from Encanto, so the only possible explanation was that Bruno had finally gone crazy.

He held his eyes open for as long as he could, scared to blink in case that made you disappear. When he relented, he found you were still there. And he felt so happy he could cry.

To hell with sanity if being nuts meant having you back, even as a byproduct of his imagination.

He stood up, smiling at your figure with tears in his eyes. Would the vision talk to him? Were you just some sort of mirage? Could he touch you, maybe? It depended on exactly how far his mind had gone down the deep end, but he sure hoped the screw was very loose and never tightened back.

You pulled the reigns firmly, showering Bruno in dust and pebbles, and jumped down the saddle with your arms open and welcoming. 'Very realistic', Bruno thought as he spit out a small piece of imaginary rock. When you hugged him, his chest fluttered just like it used to when you were alive.

"Dios mío!" You sniffed, holding back nervous chuckles as you buried your face in his curls. "Dios mío. I'm back. I've made it. I'm back."

Bruno tentatively combed through your hair with his fingers. It was just as soft as he remembered.

"Wow." He said under his breath. 

You pulled back, keeping your hands on his shoulders, and stared at him with a smile so wide your cheeks hurt.

"Yeah. Wow." You agreed. Your tongue was itching to ask Bruno so many things, to tell him everything you had realized, and you couldn't resist the urge to start rambling. "I came back as fast as I could, I just had to tell you that... that I love you, and I know you tried pushing me away for some noble reason but to hell with it, you hear me? I don't care what you think you are or what you think you know, I love you and I can't live without you. I'm begging here."

Bruno nodded, pulling you closer and taking a deep, shaky breath. You frowned. He wasn't just happy, he was... also very sad. There was a smile on his face, but his eyes looked strained and glazed over.

You placed a hand on his cheek, suddenly worried.

"Wait, are you okay? You don't look so good..."

"Y-yeah. Yeah. I'm..." Bruno's voice broke, and he cleared his throat. "I'm good. I'm just happy I've gone crazy." He sniffed nervously, throwing you a shaky smirk. " Will take some getting used to, but... Are you-Are you coming back? Is this a one-time hallucination or... Because if this is permanent, I have to tell my family so they know who I'm talking to."

You blinked slowly. Your forehead crinkled in a confused frown.

"What... Bruno, I'm back. It's really me." You tried to explain.

His hands slid down the length of your arms and he grabbed yours softly, pressing your fingers against his lips.

"Please, don't leave when I tell you this, but..." He closed his eyes tightly. "I know you're dead."

You pulled your hands away from his. He panicked when he felt your absence, quickly reaching for your arm to check you were still palpable.

"But I can do this!" He rushed to explain. "I won't... I won't make you disappear or anything, okay? Please, stay. You're all I have left."

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration.

"Bruno, please..."

"What? I was at your funeral, your father kicked me out! I've gone through hell these days, ever since I had the vision of you dying, and-and then I tried to prevent it by pushing you away and then it happened because of me, like it always does! Do you know how that feels? Killing the person you love?"

"Wh-Wha-" Your eyes opened wide, and your mouth fell agape as you tried to form words. "W- You went looking for me? You met my dad?"

"Of course I did! I'm in love with you! Aren't- aren't you supposed to already know this!? What kind of hallucination are you if you can't even read my mind!?"

You had both taken a step back by that point. Your brain smoked under your mess of dirty locks, trying to make sense of what you were hearing. He... he thought you were really dead? And he had been to your village? And... AND YOU HAD MISSED HIM BY A DAY? WHAT THE HELL, BRUNO? Your hand hurt like hell from riding there with a deep open wound, and you were not amused with that welcome party. And it had all been because of a VISION HE HAD? That he didn't even think to TELL YOU ABOUT?

You stomped your foot, outraged.

"You beautiful, adorable, sweet little man!" You spat. "I've faked my death, spent four days in the jungle, challenged some magic I don't understand and WON to be with you! I love you! I want to be with you! And you pushed me away with NO EXPLANATION because you had a VISION!?"

Bruno shrunk. His hands curled in front of his chest, making him look like a very scared rat.

"Well... When you put it that way..."

"And on top of that, the vision was BULLSHIT! It was a fake funeral, Bruno! And I come back and-and you think I'm a hallucination!? I'm going to cry!"

"No, don't! I- God, I- How on earth did I ruin this too!?" He asked panickedly.

"You didn't! I'm ruining it! I'm having a meltdown!" You yelled with tears in your eyes, already hyperventilating. Bruno held your elbow (all he dared to touch in your current state) until you calmed down. "I..." You sighed. "Bruno I can't live without you. I'm not dying again any time soon, I promise. Can we please get back to how it was? Please?"

Bruno nodded, then shook his head, then nodded again. He seemed out of it, too scared to actually process anything that was happening.

After a short pause where you both just stared at each other, he suddenly perked up like he had realized something wonderful.

"Wait a minute." He said.

"What now."

"Wait. Wow. Wait!"

"What."

"You're alive! Y-you you wow you're- alive! Yeah! Obviously!"

"Obviously!" You exclaimed, chuckling darkly.

Bruno grabbed you by your shoulders and shook you, hard.

"We're getting married! We're SO getting married! Oh, WAIT!" He let go of you, pacing around as he mumbled to himself. "No, we can't. We don't have the plates. We need to tell Alma, and then..." He pointed at the sky, looking at you, before frowning again. "No, but Mirabel was wearing a blue dress and you still have to make that. So, give or take... Two months? One?"

Bruno counted with his fingers, muttering events he remembered from his vision and trying to guess the exact date of your wedding. You smiled with fondness.

"We can do the math later." You said softly. "I should go tell everyone I'm actually alive."

Bruno shook his head, making his curls bounce.

"Nope. Not possible. You have to kiss me first."

You snorted.

"Cheeky! Why don't YOU kiss me, huh?"

"Because if I move I'll faint?"

"Ah, that changes things."

You looked at him mischievously for a second, clicking your tongue. Then, with two long strides, you closed the distance and smashed your lips against his. Your arms automatically moved to pull him closer, while his found their place near your hips, pressing softly.

"Mmmm... Fanks." He said, his mouth still pressed against yours. "Wait! Stop!"

You pulled back instantly, your stomach sinking. What did he want this time?

He was looking at you like he was seeing your face for the first time, trying to retain every crook in his memory.

"It really is you. You're back." He whispered.

"Yes?"

He laughed for a second before busting into tears. He peppered your face with kisses, alternatively sobbing and cackling in random intervals. Laughter bubbled in your throat, but when his lips reached your cheeks you realized you were also crying.

"I love you." He cried, he laughed. "You're alive! I love you so much. My sunshine. My life. My everything."

You couldn't speak. All that left your lips were shaky high-pitched noises and strangled chuckles.

"I- I dove you do!" You tried. "Bud I have do..."

"Later." He kissed you, kissed you again, kissed you one more time. "It." Kiss."Can." Kiss. "Wait."

You kissed him back, covering his face in tears and snot. Your teeth crashed a couple times, but nobody paid that any mind. Because, after overcoming so much (his family, his fear of ruining everything he touched, your past and even your own death), you were finally together entirely. No more rocks in the way, no more secrets between you. Just the joy of the shared life that was to come.

When you finally entered la Casita holding Bruno's hand, your smiling lips sore and puffy from so much kissing, many things broke at once.

Mirabel, who had been taking a pile of dishes to the kitchen, dropped them on the spot. Alma, who had been sitting in conversation with her daughters (about Bruno's mental health), stood up so fast she almost fell over. Julieta and Pepa rushed to hold her, accidentally hitting a small table that held a flower pot, causing it to fall and shatter.

The noise alerted Camilo, who rushed outside of the living room and slipped on the wet substrate, falling backwards. Félix rushed to help him, slipped as well, and almost crashed into Alma. Luisa dropped an entire piano less than five centimeters away from her dad's foot. Isabela, watching from upstairs, accidentally caused every surface to explode with blooming flowers.

Dolores just gasped.

A few beats of silence followed the ruckus as the Madrigals took you in, alive and well, holding Bruno's hand with a shy smile. Rain started trickling from the ceiling, soon turning into a heavy sheet of water that washed over your very shocked newfound family.

"Uh... hola." You greeted, pushing away the wet hair that stuck to your face. "I'm here to ask for Bruno's hand? If that's okay?"

Camilo, ever the icebreaker, was the first one to speak.

"You're... alive?" He muttered, rubbing his sore back as he struggled to stand up without slipping again.

"Very much, yeah. Bruno made a little mistake, but don't we all?"

Bruno nodded eagerly by your side, as if accidentally telling everyone you were dead was something that happened every day.

"You're... not a ghost. You're alive?" Asked Mirabel with a panicked expression, her hands still holding an invisible pile of dishes.

"Yup." You simply said.

More silence. So, so long. You shuffled uncomfortably as your drenched clothes stuck to your body, getting a reassuring squeeze from Bruno's hand. A small gesture that comforted you immensely.

Little Antonio emerged from the kitchen as if nothing had happened, jumping on poodles and playing with the rain until he almost fell on top of you. You caught him on time, pulling him close to you so he didn't run off again. He looked at you and laughed cheerfully.

"¡Tía! You're back!" He exclaimed, hugging you. "We've missed you, you know? Don't do that again."

That was the sign the rest of the Madrigals needed to scramble off to hug you. Camilo reached you first, half running half crawling, and held onto your middle until he cut your breath.

"MY TÍA!" He yelled between happy tears. "IMMORTAL. UNDEFEATED. I'M AS HAPPY AS I'M CONFUSED."

Mirabel hung from your neck, almost toppling you.

"YOU'RE ALIVE! YOU'RE SO ALIVE! TÍO BRUNO WAS WRONG AGAIN!"

"We were devastated!" Sobbed Pepa, pulling your left arm to squeeze it against her face.

"I- I'm still holding Antonio!" You tried to explain panickedly, adjusting your possition so the five-year-old didn't get squeezed.

Bruno's eyes filled with happy tears yet again as he watched his family take turns to gush over your return, pestering you with hugs, kisses and kind words of greeting.

Alma stood right behind him, having made her way through the rain slowly without her cane.

"It's really you..." The oldest Madrigal spoke with a soft voice, but even that small thread of sound was enough to quiet her family. 

Everybody stepped away from you, leaving you shaky on your legs as you tried to regain some dignity.

"Yes, it's- it's me." You said as firmly as you could. "And I'm here to propose to Bruno."

Alma opened her mouth to speak, but Bruno cut her by rushing to your side, his sandals slapping loudly on the wet floor.

"Not if I propose first!" He quipped.

Bruno held your hand, made you turn towards him and got on his knee with a single smooth, fluid movement you hadn't thought him capable of. There was a soft seriousness in him. He seemed deeply moved but also ardently determined.

"I will get you a ring, I promise." He said, holding your gaze. "But will you marry me anyway?"

Everything stopped and suddenly it was just the two of you, together under the pouring rain after so much pain and grief. You knew you must've been shaking life a leaf, but you felt braver that ever. More than that. You were ready to promise that sweet, caring man a happy life by his side, leaving your past behind for good and looking at your promising future with nothing but eagerness.

So you nodded, because you couldn't speak. And Bruno rose to his feet and kissed you with abandon, in front of the people that were very much still there.

Curled as you were around each other, you barely head the explosion of cheers, barely felt the pats on the back. There wasn't a single dry eye in the room, as it shouldn't. Because the lonely hermit had finally found some well deserved true love, and the tormented seamstress felt peace for the first time in her life.

Chapter Text

Even though you were technically engaged, Bruno and you took your sweet time with the preparations for the wedding. You were very much in love with each other (and continued to be a year later), but you both had gotten engaged on an euphoric impulse, after all. And that didn't do good on your nerves a month in.

Alma tried to push the date closer and closer, while Bruno fought tooth and nail to give you both more time to create a couple's routine. You had moved in with the family about three months after the proposal, raising many eyebrows and earning the first serious stain on your reputation, but since you were kind of used to being the talk of the town after coming back from the dead, your biggest problem turned out to be your own mother-in-law's comments.

"You're practically married already, no?" She often bargained with her sweetest, most convincing tone. "It's just a party, mijita! It will be over before you know it."

"I- Yes! But we still need, uh..." You tried, coming up with a new excuse every time.

And that's how things were for a while, until one faithful night (ten months into the engagement), Bruno slid into your shared bedroom with a gleeful expression.

"Close your eyes! Quick!" He commanded, shutting the door behind him excitedly.

You smiled to yourself. Lately, Bruno came back with small surprises for you almost every week: from plain weird stuff like a fistful of pearlescent moss that smelled like popcorn to beautifully crafted wonders, like an ancient book he had found in la Casita's library or a glass pendant someone must've hidden under a rock decades ago.

So you put down the small embroidery you had been working on, covering your eyes with your hands for good measure.

"Do I get three guesses?" You asked playfully.

"Hm..." Bruno seemed to consider it for a second, and you felt his weight shifting the cushions as he sat by your side on the sofa. "If you promise to guess wrong, yes."

You laughed. "Okay! So... Is it... A polar bear?"

"Damn it! You got it right on the first try!"

"You kidding, right?"

"Obviously."

You could almost hear him roll his eyes fondly.

"Is it..." You sniffed, pretending to smell something around him. "Hm... Five small palm trees? Like, super tiny. Bite sized."

Bruno laughed. The sound of his laughter still made your heart flutter.

"Are you hungry? No, Isa could make that if you want, but it's not what I have." He replied.

"HM..." You hummed loudly, pretending to think deeply. "There's really only one option left. It's a hundred and twenty one sheep."

"Wow, you're BAD at this. Can't believe my luck."

"Oh, shut up! Show me!" You bounced up and down like a little kid, still covering your eyes.

Bruno's presence by your side moved slightly. His ruana (the one you had made for him) brushed against your arm as he turned to face you.

"Okay, open them."

You did as you were told. Bruno was holding a ring in his open palm. It looked heavy, intrincatelly carved with a glowing green stone right in the middle. Your face lit up.

"Oh! Where did you find this?" You asked, leaning to examine it closely. "What is it? Is it ancient?"

Bruno shook his head, softly taking your hand to place the ring where it rightfully belonged.

"It's... Something new. Now we're just missing something old, something borrowed and something blue." He said, evaluating the way your hand looked with the new piece of jewelry on. "I made the stone from a vision tablet. Don't know it it'll last, but I can always keep them coming, I think."

You smiled, amused at the way he intently stared at your fingers. He turned your hand on both sides and caressed it like one does when admiring a fine work of art.

"What was the vision?" You asked, biting your lip.

Bruno's eyes crinkled when he smiled at you. He looked at the ceiling, feigning a mysterious attitude.

"Ah, nothing much. Something about some plates." He said nonchalantly.

You softly bumped your shoulder against his, placing a quick kiss on his cheek.

"Well, I love it, but I've already said yes."

Bruno pinched your face by the cheeks, making your lips stick out like a fish's and kissing them softly.

"But now you know what you're getting into." He wiggled his eyebrows, making you laugh. Since he still had your face squished between his fingers, you pretty much drizzled him with your spit.

"Woah! Just say you don't like it." Bruno let go of your cheeks, touching the corner of his eye. "I'm not liking this violence, Madrigal."

"Don't call me that before you've wed me properly, Bruno!" You complained, laughing as you cleaned your own chin.

Your fiance looked at you with tenderness before lacing his fingers with yours.

"So." He started. "Are we getting the plates? From that Rodríguez man? Whose name I really should try to remember?"

You nodded, lifting your joined hands to your mouth and kissing his fingers softly.

"I finished Mirabel's blue dress a month ago." Your eyes twinkled mischievously. "Unleash Alma!"

"What lady Madrigal wishes shall be done." Bruno agreed, earning a chuckle and a playful swat on the shoulder.

And that brought you to the present day, twelve full months after the first proposal and two months after the second, real one.

The day of your wedding.

According to everyone around you, a day for love, a day for joy. The first day of the rest of your life, filled with happiness and excitement. And you were only on your fifth anxiety meltdown.

It's not that you were nervous about marrying Bruno (that was actually the only thing that made the day worth it), but you were a private person and everyone seemed to need a piece of you. Did you want to see the cake that Julieta made? When would the candles be arriving? Could you stand still for a picture? Did you want your hair up or down, and why both? Which wine went with what again?

You knew nothing about wine! Except that you would need plenty of it, and pretty soon!

And to top things off, your father was running rampant. He had been delighted to receive the invitation and you liked that he was there, but his comments threatened to drive you crazy.

"Alma, I thought you were a stuck up." He said, patting your very annoyed mother-in-law's back. "But you really know how to throw a party. Look at my girl! Isn't she pretty? She took all the good genes, the greedy bastard."

Alma nodded with a deep, tired sigh.

"So it would seem, yes." She replied.

He had been acting like that the entire morning, either being accidentally rude or taking his role of 'fun dad' too seriously. A terrible combo when you threw Camilo into the mix, too.

"Papá, could you go check on Bruno?" You asked, trying to save Alma from the well-meaning pestering of your dad. "I can't go, he can't see the dress... but I need to know he's doing okay."

Your father slapped his forehead, as if suddenly remembering something important.

"That's right!" He exclaimed. "Dios mío, I forgot to threaten him earlier, thanks for reminding me. He doesn't even know I have a shotgun!"

The man who raised you left the room, leaving you alone with the Madrigal women. You could swear you heard him mutter something about 'if she cries, even once' and 'I've killed before, you know?'.

Letting out a puff of air, you all but fell on a chair to rub your exhausted legs. You had been standing in front of the mirror for hours.

"¡Cristo! People who get married really love each other!" You whined.

Mirabel snorted, carrying the huge, extravagant bouquet that Isabela was still retouching. It was almost as big as your torso. You wondered how on earth you would throw that over your shoulder when the time came.

"This is just the first half. You'll cheer up at the banquet." Your niece tried to comfort you, her voice muffled by the flowers. "And your dad isn't so bad! I almost pissed myself when Camilo turned into abuela and they did the tango."

"They fuel each other." Alma said gloomly. "It's awful."

"This would be easier if I could see Bruno." You wraped your arms around your middle, trying to shield yourself from the stress. "So many things are bad luck today! I can't keep up! There's a coin in my left shoe, for f... fudge sake!"

"Does it go in the left one? Or it doesn't matter?" Asked Isabela as she added yet another row of cascading orchids to the bouquet.

"I don't know and I don't care!" You exclaimed, leaning forward and burying your face in your hands with a sigh. "I just want to get this over with."

Pepa and Julieta, who had been helping Luisa and Dolores with their new dresses, threw each other understanding glances. They remembered their own weddings, how pressing everything felt when the stakes were placed not just on the party, but on the reputation of the Madrigals as well. A Madrigal marriage was considered one of the greatest events you could attend to in Encanto, and being thrown into that as an outsider had to be...

Well, your pale, shaky figure painted the picture just right.

"Have I ever told you about my own wedding?" Pepa asked softly from the other side of your bedroom. 

You shook your head, still buried in your own lap.

"Well... At first-"

"¡TÍA! ¡TÍA! A MESSAGE FROM TÍO BRUNO!"

Camilo burst in the room, wearing a cream coloured guayabera and matching linen pants. He had no shoes on, and for some reason that made you want to scream. Were you the only one who was ready to go? How much longer would you have to wait?

"Good news only." You warned gloomly.

"Sí, sí. He's okay." Your nephew dismissed your worries with a nonchalant wave. "He wants you to know we're all ready."

"And your shoes?"

"Oh, I let my tío borrow them. We can't find his good shoes." He shrugged. "I'll just wear my sandals."

Pepa tutted, rushing to her son with her finger up, ready for a scolding.

"No, no. You can't go to your tía's wedding in sandals. If you don't have shoes, you'll stay in la Casita until the ceremony is done."

"¡Mamá! I have to carry las arras!" Camilo complained.

"Ay, Jesús... Please, just let him wear the sandals, Pepita." You begged. "We're already late."

Your sister-in-law thought for a second, her lips tight. After a short pause, she finally nodded, almost making you tear up from relief.

"Okay... But no more mistakes, Camilo! And stay away from your tía's dad, will you? You two are dangerous together, and she needs some calm."

"Síiiiiiiii, mamá." Your nephew rolled his eyes, preemptively taking a step back from Pepa, just in case. "He's pretty cool, though. I might start calling him 'abuelo'."

Every single one of the women in your bedroom, you included, turned to face Camilo at the same time. Like some sort of female Madrigal hive mind, you also said the exact same thing.

"¡No!"

"¡No!" Bruno yelled strangledly, pushing the guitar that Félix offered away from him. "I'm not going to SING! Not happening!"

The two men stood in the middle of the empty church, already wearing their guayaberas and linen pants. They had sent Camilo to warn the women a little while ago, and it couldn't be much longer before Agustín showed up with Antonio and the priest to open the doors for the guests. It was the worst possible timing to remind Bruno that he was expected to perform an impromptu serenata while you walked down the aisle.

"Ay, hermano, it's not so bad. We've all done it!" His stubborn brother-in-law pushed the instrument back towards him. "And you can play a bit, right?"

"Sí, I could play four chords, ten years ago. I- Félix, why did you even bring this? Seriously. No!"

"Well, then I'll play and you sing! We're a team, right? Team Madrigal." Félix wiggled his eyebrows, always the charmer. But Bruno thought he was asking too much of him. He shook his head violently, pushing the guitar away again with every fiber of his stubborness.

"I said no!" He stated, his voice firm and steady. "I don't sing, I won't sing and there's absolutely nothing you can say OR do to make me sing. If this one has to be the only Madrigal wedding without a serenata, then so. Be. It."

You took a deep breath, staring at the closed wooden doors in front of you while you tried to listen to whatever was happening inside. The guests were already in their seats, your wedding party was already standing by the altar, and your father and you were waiting outside for the doors to open again so you could make your grand entrance.

But they weren't opening. And after waiting for fifteen minutes and hearing a moderate amount of hushed commotion from the church, you started to worry.

Your dad checked his watch for the fifth time, clicking his tongue.

"You think Bruno got cold feet?" He asked.

"Sh. Did you hear that?" You sushed your dad and strained your ears, trying to make up full sentences amidst the rumbling voices. "I think someone said 'Dios mío'. Oh, no..."

"I have great aim. How fast does he run?"

"Ay, shut up, papá. You'll jinx it." You whined, softly tapping the doors with the tip of your index finger. "Knock on wood."

"Yeah, knock. See if they'll open..."

They didn't. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably, squeezing your father's arm for reassurance. Your other arm was getting sore from carrying the heavy bouquet. Your dad noticed.

"Do you want me to hold that for a bit?" He offered.

You just nodded, passing the huge pile of flowers to him and feeling immediate relief when you stretched your arm. Your dad weighted the bouquet in his hand and let out a soft whistle.

"Damn... Listen, bebita, I don't think they'll notice if we leave half of it here. I'm just saying."

You began to chuckle, but your blood ran cold when the doors in front of you creaked, opening slowly. You rushed to grab the bouquet from your father and put on a radiant smile, like you were expected to do.

"About fucking time." Muttered your dad, stepping inside and pulling you along.

As you entered the church, you finally understood what had caused the delay. Bruno (who looked absolutely amazing in full maroon linen clothes, by the way) didn't stand alone in front of the altar: Félix was with him, and he had a guitar.

Your brother-in-law started playing some song you had never heard before, and you came to the shocking conclusion that Bruno was about to serenade you.

"What the huck?" Whispered your father through his teeth, smiling as he walked you towards the altar.

"I hah no idea." You replied the same way, your face an unmoving mask of joy.

No matter what happened next, you wouldn't laugh at your soon-to-be husband. You had to be strong and show him your support.

And then Bruno opened his mouth, and it was... bad.

He didn't really know the lyrics, so he just hummed some parts and kind of stuttered through the rest of it. Félix was a fairly good musician. He did his best to give Bruno as many gestual cues as he could, but your poor groom barely managed to get anything even close to what you assumed was the tempo. His shame permeated through your skin, making you cringe empathetically.

You had an idea that could make things easier for Bruno, but it involved making a daring choice. Was saving your husband worth ruining a traditional Madrigal wedding? His eyes looked anywhere but you, something that felt very wrong given the circumstances, and the outrage you felt towards whoever made your Brunito so uncomfortable on the day of his wedding proved to be enough to push your fear of Alma out the window. Maybe you were brave, maybe you were a senseless idiot. In any case, you would be anything he needed.

Without falling out of step in your walk down the aisle, you handed your father the ten kilos of bridal bouquet you were holding and let go of his arm.

"What-" He started alarmedly.

Your dad's words turned into a laughing fit. Because you started dancing to Bruno's awful singing: at first a subtle shuffle with some shoulder action, then a couple twirls, and finally the weirdest moves you knew on your way to the altar.

You did the robot. The mashed potatoe. The shimmy. The chicken. Your father followed you a little behind, watching everything with shock and glee, bobbing his head to the beat as he cackled. You laughed along with him, finally catching Bruno's eyes and finding them happy. So, so happy. He even sung a little better, gaining confidence the second he knew you had his back.

Félix, far from being offended, looked absolutely delighted at the turn of events. He played just as good as before, but his previous 'maybe this was a bad idea' expression had turned into one that said 'that's right, I'm a genius'. You didn't dare to check for Alma's reaction. Your eyes were set on Bruno and his were set on you, sharing the awkwardness of it all like you would share everything from then on.

You were even a bit sad when the serenata ended. Since you still had a bit to get to the altar, you trotted briskly, followed suit by your dad. Your heels clicked loudly in contrast with the deafening, bewildered silence of your audience. Someone coughed.

"That was fucking awesome, kid." You father patted your soon-to be husband's arm, handing him the bouquet instead of you. Bruno grabbed it while he nodded enthusiastically, too focused on his great choice of a wife to notice it.

"See? The serenata never fails." Félix winked at you. "A true test of love, if I know one."

You chuckled, regarding the two men fondly as they picked up the stool and the guitar and left to stand on the side.

Bruno gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

"Wanna go back and do it again?" Your groom greeted you with a joke and a soft smile, something you were very thankful for.

After overcoming what probably would be the weirdest moment of your life, you could finally take each other in properly. Your eyes shimmered while you admired the suble strength of his forearms, the nice way his guayabera clinged to his collarbone, his shiny curls peppered with white hairs. And his loving gaze, searching your face with adoration and devotion, ignoring the whispers of your neighbours in the packed church.

"You look... wow." He complimented you honestly, taking your mind to that first date more than a year ago. Your smile got wider.

"You also look wow. Love the new shoes."

Bruno poked his tongue out at you, soon being startled by the priest starting his sermon. It wasn't until the exchange of the rings that you both noticed he had been holding your bouquet for the entire ceremony.

"This is a disaster!" Alma fussed over a spilled glass of wine, the red stain growing rapidly on the white tablecloth. "This wedding is going HORRIBLY!"

"I don't know what to tell you, mamá! I'm having fun!" Bruno cheerfully yelled from the other side of the table so she heard him over the music.

It was now late at night, and the party had been going on for hours. Your only friends had left early (little Fernandito had to sleep, Carlota said), so Bruno and you were left to your own devices through most of it in what was really the best possible outcome. Everyone was either dancing or too drunk to dance, laughter and music filled the air, and the tasteful decorations that Mirabel had chosen truly made the plaza feel like something out of a fairytale. Even the tiles seemed to shine brighter under the lanterns.

In the middle of it all, elevated in a small wooden platfom, the intimidating aura of the main table protected you and your husband from any unwanted attention. Only the Madrigal adults and your father remained, the kids having scattered to dance and mingle with their friends.

"Mamá, clear skies. It's going well." Pepa tried to calm her, a bit too tipsy to really care about her mother's reaction.

"No! First Bruno's shoes, then the church, and now this? What are we? Animals?" Alma rubbed the stain with a napkin, managing to make it bigger. "Ay, Dios... My poor Brunito's wedding, ruined. After waiting for so long... Doña Emilia is going to be unbearable."

"Hey! ¡Abuela! Over here!" Camilo called her from below the platform, once again making a show of bad timing. He was holding a girl's hand, and she looked almost as moody as the abuela herself.

Alma rolled her eyes.

"What now, Camilo?" She sighed.

"Can I bring a friend to the table? I want her to meet the family." He smiled confidently, keeping the unamused girl's hand close to his chest. A rainbow appeared over Pepa's head. Félix started to nod eagerly.

But Alma had other priorities. She gave the girl a once-over and raised her eyebrows.

"No."

"But..."

"I said no. Go dance somewhere else."

This girl sighed, shaking Camilo's hand away.

"Great idea, Camilo. As always." She seemed hurt and tired, storming off without as much as a glance back. Camilo rushed to follow her, yelling apologies over the sound of music and soon getting lost in the crowd.

"Mamá..." Started Pepa.

"Mamá nothing, Pepita!" Alma barked, tossing the napkin defeatedly on top of her empty plate. "I have enough to deal with as it is! Next time your husband thinks to rope my son into a serenata, make sure he teaches him the lyrics!"

Bruno took mercy on his mother, realizing what the fuss was really about. She must've been happy out of her mind when she heard he was finally getting settled, and seeing even the slightest thing go south clashed with the wonderful scenario she had replayed in her mind a million times. He was happy because you were his wife, and that was enough for him, but Alma's pride laid elsewhere. And it was his duty as the groom to ensure everyone (or at least his closest family) had a good time at his wedding. So he suggested something he knew she would like.

"I could... say a few words?" He tried.

Alma looked at him like he had grown a second head.

"You? Speaking in public?" The old woman asked bewilderedly. "You don't have to do it just because of me, Brunito. I will calm down, and..."

But Bruno shook his head, interrupting her.

"Na-na-na, It's okay. And I'm drunk, so. Piece of wedding cake, get it?" He shrugged with a smirk, already standing up and pulling you along with him. You didn't now where that was going, but by that point you were in for the ride.

"PEOPLE OF ENCANTO!" Yelled Bruno towards the multitude, lifting his hands magnificently. If somebody heard him, they didn't pay him any mind. He let them fall back down. "Well, I tried."

"Nonsense, Brunito." You laughed. "HEY, YOU. ACCORDIONS. SHUT IT."

The music slowly came to a stop, everyone in the plaza searching for the source of the interruption. Soon, you had captured their attention.

"Get them, tiger." You whispered with an encouraging smile that Bruno returned.

"People of Encanto!" He tried again, as pompous and theatrical as before. "It is with great joy that I greet you all to my wedding! My lovely wife and myself find it in our hearts to communicate publicly that our love is... uh..." He was having trouble with the words. "Unmeasurable. And I can wish nothing for you but to find half the virtues in your partner half as delightful as I find my partner's virtues, because even half of that delight is more than double the delight that half of you could experience in two lifetimes."

Confused noises came from the audience. You felt tears coming.

"That's beautiful, Brunito..." You whispered.

"I'll say even more!" Bruno kept going, encouraged by your reaction. He flailed his arms around like he was a president talking to the troops. "Before I met this woman..." He pointed at you. "...I thought love was something that happened to you! To some people! To people who weren't me! But today I can say proudly that I was wrong, because love is something you make!"

A few light chuckles. Bruno stuttered, realizing what he had said.

"Uh, no, not something you make, sorry. Well, maybe later, but..." People laughed at that, some even whistled. You were so happy to see other people finding out about Bruno's sense of humour that you started crying forreal. "What I mean to say is that love is something you CREATE together! All it takes is two very determined people, sometimes a bit of pestering from a niece or a nephew, and one day..." He turned to face you, his features laced with pride. "One day you find yourself getting married to someone who would die just to get back to you. And other people say 'wow, Bruno, it's finally happened to you', but no! It didn't just happen, we built it together." Bruno's eyes were soft, regarding you as you wiped your tears with your hands, wiped your hands on your skirt. "If I lost my gift tomorrow, I'd still be certain about our future, you know?"

You nodded, making the gesture of knocking on wood, too moved to form words.

Bruno turned back towards the rest of the villagers. He gestured towards you with his open hand.

"And now, a toast! To the bravest, kindest, smartest and most amazing woman in the world! No offense to the rest of you!"

The plaza erupted in cheers, the music resumed and everyone drank to your health. You rushed to Bruno's side, hugging him as tight as you could while you tried to kiss any part of him that fell close to your lips.

"Love you." Kiss. "Love you." Kiss. "Love you."

Bruno smiled to the top of your head, contempt with the way his vision had turned out. Behind him, a much more relaxed Alma used the wine-stained napkin to dry happy tears from her cheeks.

Many hours and a couple bottles later, your husband and you struggled to open the door of your shared bedroom while you kissed each other, giggling like teenagers. You were too drunk to remember what was so funny, but after making it back to la Casita and climbing the long set of stairs with only two minor falls, all that was left for the night was... the fun part.

"Dolores, to your room. Now." Bruno groaned against your lips, his hand hitting the door repeatedly in search of the doorknob.

You barely contained a new burst of laughter, reaching behind you to open it and making you both topple down onto the carpet.

"¡Ay! A bit too eager, are we." Complained your husband, as firm on his legs as a newborn deer.

You snorted and closed the door with a kick, not bothering to stand up yet. Instead, you used your legs to push and drag your body towards the bed, like a drunk caterpillar.

"I'm developing a new method. I call it 'emergency walking'." You said, watching the ceiling turn around you. "You know you've arrived when you hit your head on something."

"Ah, I see. My mom's dignity is rubbing onto you." Bruno crawled towards you and popped in your line of sight, making you smile. "I also have a method. Wanna see?"

You nodded, yelping when he grabbed you by the waist and tried to lift you off the ground. The most he managed to do was press you up against him. He gave up after a second.

"Okay, it's not compatible with being drunk. We'll try yours." Bruno laid on his back and started pushing himself with his legs, mimicking you. "Hey, look at that. It works."

"Of course it works." Your replied, resuming your own backwards dragging. "Unless you're wearing socks. You need some grip for it to work."

Bruno hummed appreaciatively. You could hear him 'emergency walking' a bit ahead of you, his stronger legs giving him the advantage. A loud knock let you know he had reached the bed.

"And after the concussion?" He asked.

"After the concussion, you stand up." You did exactly that, turning around on your stomach and using the edge of the bed for support. You offered a hand to Bruno, who looked at you from the floor amusedly as he rubbed his head. "Works better if you let your husband go first. You can use his concussion for reference."

"Can't believe I married an engineer. I'm going to learn so much." Bruno joked, groaning while he stood up with your help. He barely stayed on his feet for a second, toppling onto the bed with a satisfied hum.

You bit your lip, fondly watching him struggle to reach the pillows and turn to you. He lifted his arms, beckoning you to join him with a wave of his strong, nimble hands.

"Will my wife be joining me today?" He asked with a faint smile. He was clearly as tired as you were.

"Your wife will be joining you every day." You replied, crawling on the mattress until you were laying at his side, facing him. "But she wants me to tell you you look very tired, and she's tired too."

"Hm..." Bruno hummed happily, embracing you with a soft, romantic kiss. "Lucky me. She knows me so well."

"So you want to sleep?" You offered, fighting the urge to close your eyes.

"Mhm..." Your husband nodded, placing a few soft pecks on your mouth, your forehead and down your neck. His nose tickled you behind your ear.

"And why are you kissing my neck like you don't know what happens next?"

"Because I do know what happens next and nobody expects us to come down for breakfast." He muttered against the crook of your neck.

"Hm..." Your eyes finally fluttered closed. "You're so convincing."

"We can still sleep if you want." He offered, kissing the middle of your chest before moving to the other side of your neck. "If we wake up early, we can do it quick before Dolores leaves her room."

"And why not both?" You suggested. Bruno snorted, his teeth bumping against your skin when he smiled.

"Because I'm a human being and I can only do spectacular once every four days?"

"Well, it's been like six days..." You sighed. Your eyes felt heavy. You were drifting off.

Bruno placed one last kiss on your shoulder, lifting his head to find you almost completely asleep. Hiding a sigh of relief, the newlywed accomodated himself by your side to spoon your sleeping form.

He would have been more than happy to fulfill his marital duties, but after drinking so much and accumulating tension all day, he knew his talents in bed currently leaned more towards the snoring aspect. 

Chapter Text

Bruno was a husband. Not just a husband, but the mightiest husband. He was the husband that scored the best wife in the world and he felt adequately happy about it, a bit like an Nobel prize winner or a freshly invested president. Ecstatic. Valued. Recognized.

As if that wasn't enough, Bruno The Husband had also just been informed that his first lunch as a married man would consist of a delicious, spicy, smokey asado that he wouldn't even have to pretend to help with. He was never that good at pretending to help, mind you, but that time Félix didn't even let him touch the tongs. 'Just pour me some wine, hermano, I got this', he had said. So Bruno did exactly that, pour glass after glass for him and his brother-in-law, enjoying the morning sun with a wistful, permanent smile.

"Ay, hermano. I almost cried. You looked so happy! You looked thirty, the second you saw her you lost twenty years." Félix rambled, expertly turning the meat. "I was the same with Pepita, exactly the same. And look at us now: still in love, a nice house, an asado, three kids... That's your future, you know?"

"Yeah..." Bruno chuckled, staring at the wine inside his glass. "If I think about it too hard, I'll wake up."

"This is the best part, too." Félix continued. "Dating an amazing woman can be scary sometimes, but now you'll be less and less scared every day. You'll see." He moved the sausages away from the heat. He was acting all casual. Too casual to actually be casual. "Which reminds me..." Ah, there it was. "Have you talked about kids? Are we getting a baby? Two? Three?"

Bruno thought for a second. Yes you had, and very seriously, but he didn't know exactly how much he could tell Félix without roping the entire family into another scheme to get you pregnant.

"Yes. But." He admitted, raising his index fingers to stop the other man from reacting. "We have been... careful. We know she's not pregnant. Yet. She's not pregnant yet."

"So what are you waiting for?" Félix playfully clicked the tongs in la Casita's direction. "Dolores has been in her room since you left the party, a baby is exactly what you should be doing. Three babies!"

Bruno would usually be very uncomfortable discussing baby-making front of anyone, but he had already gone through that phase with Félix. His brother-in-law had proved to be an engaged and knowledgeable listener, giving tips and advice when needed to make up for his lack of experience.

So, instead of turning into a stuttering mess, Bruno saw an oportunity.

"Wait... Dolores is in her room? She can't hear us?" He whispered, grabbing a utensil conspirately and getting closer to the asado. 

Félix knew what came next. His smile widened, it became mischievous, with a little nose scrunch.

"Did you try what I told you?" He asked, eyeing Bruno sideways.

"Yes. Yeah."

"And did it work?"

"Yes."

"You can use anything: the periodic table, the rivers of Colombia..."

"Yeah, I know!" Bruno looked around to make sure noone was close. "I have a different question. It's about... You know."

Félix frowned, confused. He plated the sausages neatly, one by one, as he tried to decipher what the hell 'you know' could mean, apart from the obvious.

"All of it is about... you know. We're talking about that. Specifically." He explained.

Bruno did a so-so gesture, bobbing his head from side to side. Yeah, they were, weren't they? Maybe he wasn't as comfortable as he thought he was.

"Okay, fair." He agreed. "But sometimes, when I..."

"AH! THERE YOU ARE! THE MAN WHO STOLE MY DAUGHTER!"

Bruno's soul left his body, took a stroll around the house, greeted your father with a polite hand shake and went back inside him in a second. The colour on his face, though, was gone forever.

"And- and then! She... She slapped Carlos Emilio! In the face!" He stuttered, improvising. Nobody waved their arms like that while talking about telenovelas, but he couldn't stop. "He- he was actually engaged to her sister! Like... What? Are- are they out of ideas? AY, GONORREA."

He had tried to lean nonchalantly somewhere, anywhere. He should have let his hand know that the parrilla was off limits.

"Jesus f..." He started, clutching his forearm as discreetly as he could. "¡Hola! We were just talking. About... Normal things.

Félix quirked an eyebrow, but he didn't say anything. The sausages were ready. It was the perfect excuse to safely run inside la Casita. He tried to do just that, slowly inching away from the asado and towards the front door, but Bruno was fast as a jaguar. He clutched his arm, pulling the plate from his hand and giving him the random utensil he had been holding instead.

"Sausages?" Bruno nervously offered them to your father. "No? Yeah, not great for breakfast. Good thinking!" He almost threw the plate over his shoulder, but Félix stopped him on time. "I think we have some arepas, let me..."

Bruno tried to leave instead, the traitor. Luckily, he forgot to let go of his brother-in-law's arm, the whole thing resulting in an awkard yank and some weird shuffling. Félix, a wise man, remained silent. He tried to approach the plate a couple times, but Bruno's spastic movements made it impossible.

Your dad raised his hands.

"Calm down, kid. If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead."

Bruno calmed down, not because he felt better, but because he was too scared to disobey.

"You working on the asado?" Asked the tall, dangerous man, peeking behind the two Madrigals with a frown. "Damn, that just looks sad. This is what you're feeding my girl, Bruno?"

"Hey. That's my baby." Félix finally intervened. "Quit it or shoot me, man, but leave the asado alone."

"Ah, well!" Your father laughed. He patted Félix's back. "You did a great job, Félix. It smells amazing."

Bruno wasn't stupid, so he knew some things were better left unacknowledged. He shouldn't dwell on the fact that your dad didn't consider him manly enough to make an asado, so he didn't. Not for a second.

For unrelated reasons, he squared his shoulders and crossed his arms in front of his chest. His eyes still jumped around nervously.

"I... I helped." He lied.

"I have interrogated men for murder, Bruno. You haven't touched a fork."

Bruno's mouth opened and closed. He was as offended as he was afraid of protesting. Okay, he HADN'T touched a fork, but he COULD'VE. He wasn't completely defenseless in the kitchen. He made great sandwiches.

"What you HAVE touched, though..." Your father started, moving Félix away from his path to Bruno. The old, sturdy man didn't take a single step, but everything about him screamed he was a predator about to pounce. "Is my bebita. Am I wrong?"

Bruno's eyes opened like saucers.

Uh. Yes and no. The previous night had been strictly for sleeping, and that very morning he had been too hungover to even suggest it. But he had touched you plenty before and planed to keep doing so in the future, yes. Not exactly the answer he wanted to give your father.

"No, sir! No. God." He chuckled nervously, crossing and uncrossing his arms, scratching the back of his neck. "Nonono, we're saving ourselves for... Uh... for like... Uh... You know... Do you know? I don't know. But no. No touching below the... Nope."

Your father just started at him, threateningly.

"Do I get to say goodbye to her before you kill me?" Bruno asked. He was only half joking. He hoped your dad said yes. "I think she'd like that."

"You know..." Your father started. He walked towards Bruno slowly, letting go of Félix's shoulder. "When I first saw you, I thought 'What the hell is my daughter doing?' Weak chin, all brains, no brawl... You can't defend her. Against anything."

Bruno scoffed at him offendedly, but still took a couple steps back. He felt the parrilla behind him, slowly roasting his elbows.

"Oh, wow, okay, look, you have no right to-"

"Shut up. Let me finish." Your father cut Bruno's discourse, finally cornering him. Up close and personal. Behind him, the parrilla closed his escape route. "I realized two things. One: you're absolutely incapable of harming her. Won't happen. You'd die before you let your actions take a toll on her ever again."

"Well, obviously, but-"

"AND! And." Your father placed a hand on Bruno's shoulder. "Number two. Everything she had to be protected from was because of me. The consequences of my carelessness, my forgetfulness, my murderousness... Those things that you would never do, because you always think about her before you do anything."

"And because they're crimes, and morally wrong." Félix added pointedly, simultaneously trying to fade in the background and give in to his urge to take part in everything.

"That's right, they are." Your father nodded. "But Bruno, you're the first person I meet that strikes me as... Impossibly kind. Selfless to a concerning extreme. Always willing to put others before him. Someone that wouldn't be able to stop the murderer, but would jump to stop the bullet. Someone who doesn't care if they are stepped on, belittled, harassed..."

"Thank you, thank you... I knew it would eventually come in handy." Bruno quipped, patting your father's hand.

"Bruno... I don't think you're understanding me right now." Your father grabbed both of Bruno's shoulders, shaking him gently. "My daughter is the only thing I love. She's all I have. And I'm happy she's with you, I trust you with her."

See, the message had gotten a bit lost between the threats and the insults, but there it was. Your father liked him. No, not liked. Trusted him. He trusted him to take care of you when he was away, long after he died. He trusted him to make you happy. He liked that you had chosen him.

Bruno had an entire year to wrap his head around you wanting to be with him forever. Taking in your dad's approval the day after the 'I do' was a bit too much to ask of him.

"Okay, here's what's gonna happen." He explained, pushing through the lump on his throat. His hands' grip tightened around your dad's shoulders. "I don't think you knew this before you started talking, but I never met my dad. What you've done now is trigger a very specific traumatic response, that-"

"C'mere, mijo." 

Your dad pulled Bruno into an embrace, messing his curls. It was warm and paternal, and when he tried to pull back, Bruno held onto him a bit tighter so he didn't see he was crying.

"No, I..." He sniffed. "When are you coming back?"

Your dad chuckled, ending the hug with a hearty backrub. Bruno rushed to wipe his cheeks and clear his throat.

"Sorry. That was weird." He rubbed his face thoroughly, trying to hide a lopsided smile. "Funny how the body remembers your father's dead sometimes, huh?"

"Nah, I get it. Mine's dead too."

Your dad's hand patted the side of Bruno's neck with fondness. Your husband's posture was firmer, taller, happier. Satisfied, he took a step back.

"Okay, now I'm done here. I'm leaving. Will visit next month." He announced.

Bruno sighed. Your dad had improved, but he still was... A bit detached.

"Go say goodbye to my wife." He deadpanned, pointing towards la Casita. "I'll remind you the first ten times, but then you're on your own."

"Ah, mierda, yes. And THEN I'm leaving. That's parenting, take notes."

Your father winked, grabbing a sausage before strutting towards la Casita, mindlessly munching on it while he hummed some cheerful tune.

Bruno felt the presence of Félix by his side as he watched him go.

"You know, that went way better than when I married Pepita. I'm jealous."

"Yeah, he didn't mention my strong seed once." Bruno shrugged, turning around to actually help with the asado.

A wide smile lingered on his lips, and he was sure it would for a long time. He even had a second degree burn on his palm to remind him of that joyous day forever.

Chapter Text

Bruno kicked his bedroom door open, struggling to maintain balance while he held about thirty tablets in his arms. His head throbbed from so many visions and he felt a sharp pain behind his eyes, but you had begged him to make sure before your father came back, and once he started he couldn't stop.

"So?" You asked, standing up from the sofa with pleading eyes.

"Wait. Help me." He groaned. "Grab some and leave them on the table."

"Yeah. Sorry. God." You rushed to help your husband, doing as he asked. You didn't dare look. You just grabbed the prophecies and dropped them on the sofa.

Bruno let out a sigh of relief, doing the same thing and getting right to work. He kneeled on the carpet, in front of the cushions, his nimble hands searching for the right picture. The one he wanted to show you first.

"Okay." He stated when he found it. "You ready?"

"Yes. Just tell me."

"You know how I'm a triplet and nobody else in the family has had triplets yet?"

"You're joking."

"I'm... Not." He turned the picture around. You and Bruno stood there, green over green, holding three small bundles of clothes and looking at them lovingly. "This is... These are them. You're making them right now."

You wanted to look at your husband, but you couldn't tear your eyes from the tablet. From the three bundles you were cradling close to your chest, the three kids you were currently growing inside of you.

"Wow... Three." You muttered. "Good job, cielo. You still got it."

"Eh... It was a team effort." Bruno shrugged, smiling as wide as the horizon in the desert.

That smile... Was something else entirely. Something you had never seen before. It was soft, and eager, and hopeful, and a little bit nervous. Your husband's eyes held the pure excitement of a new dad.

"Well... And the rest? What's the rest?" You asked, kneeling next to him. You spotted a boy playing football, a little girl painting a picture, another boy trying on a very extravagant hat. Your boys. Your girl.

"I had to make sure they were healthy, and then... I got a bit carried away." Your husband confessed, shuffling through the tablets to pull out a specific one. "Look, this is Pedro's first tooth."

You caressed Pedro's face with the tips of your fingers. He was growing inside of you, but at the same time he was grinning, showing off the huge gap in the middle of his smile.

Your eyes burned.

"Bruno, he... He looks just like you." You whispered.

Bruno chuckled. A nervous, bubbly chuckle that he was no longer self-conscious about.

"He better. If he didn't, you'd be in trouble." Your husband joked, trying to find the next prophecy he meant to show you. "Where is she..." He muttered. "I think I put her... Somewhere... ¡Ah!"

He handed you the picture of a teenage girl, her hair full of flowers. Bruno was there too, standing behind her proudly.

"María. She's... A bit hard to handle, I'm not gonna lie. A bit like... Like Camilo! But she eventually comes around, don't worry. I've checked."

María. She looked just like... Well, kind of a mix of you and Bruno. Her eyes were exactly like yours.

"Bruno... This is..." You started.

"But! But. Meet Hernando." He slid a new picture in front of you. A baby this time. So cute, so tiny. You were holding it inside the tablet just like you were holding the tablet itself, like one holds a miracle. "I don't know what happened with the name, honestly. And I know we shouldn't play favourites, but... He's just a sweet guy. A bit shy, a bit reserved."

"Like you?"

"No! Not like me. Knock on wood." Bruno rushed to explain, knocking on his forehead panickedly. "God, that would be... concerning. No. He's just introverted."

"Hernando..." You whispered, looking at his little face, his little hands. "What were we thinking when we named him? We're horrible."

"Yes. I thought the same, but..." Bruno grabbed the tablet from you, looking at his son as if he was already there. He didn't know his body could hold so much love. So much pride. "If he becomes this Hernando, then I'm glad we named him that, you know?"

His voice was soft and caring. It made something melt inside of you.

"Brunito... We're going to be parents. Mamá y papá." How you found the breath to speak, you didn't know. Your eyes were glued to your kids. The kids you and Bruno had made together.

"Yeah..." Bruno kissed your forehead, rubbing your back gently as you both took in the tablets. So many memories to come. So many happy years as a family. "I think we can fit in a fourth if we get to it right now."

You snorted. And finally, you looked at your husband.

Even though he was moved, he had already seen all of it. He had already cried. Now all he felt was happiness and excitement, an energy that was very easy to match.

You were going to be parents. You were going to be parents! YOU WERE GOING TO BE PARENTS!

God. You had to tell your dad. The month since you last saw him would be due in two days.

"We have to tell my dad!" You exclaimed, shaking Bruno by the shoulders. "He's going to be so happy. Ah, I can't WAIT to see his face!"

"Well, bury me near the river." Bruno laughed, holding onto your hands to keep his balance. "Because THIS didn't happen after the wedding. The dates don't match."

"What?" You froze. "By how much?"

"I mean, you were there." Your husband teased you fondly. "You looked very nice, I got a bit carried away..."

"That has happened several times." You rolled your eyes, pushing him softly. "By how much?"

"Almost the full month. Either that or all three of them decided to be early."

You thought for a second, trying to remember the night it happened. It had to be the one where you came back a bit tipsy, the one where Bruno had set a new expectation for himself. What a nice way to bring three new lives to this world, honestly. You would do it all over again.

Bruno cleared his throat next to you.

"So... Are you thinking about the night we made them?" He tentatively asked.

"Yup." You replied, nodding vigorously.

"Yeah... And are you...?"

"Very."

"Thank god."

Bruno rushed to kiss you enthusiastically, and soon you were tangled in a mess of limbs and clothes. Your last coherent thought before losing every semblance of a human brain was that you really hoped there was no way to fit in a fourth. And if it happened, you refused to call him Jorge.

Chapter Text

For a rat, Julita had a pretty cool life.

She had a house, a mansion even, with enough space for the almost two hundred babies she had brought into this world.

She had a readily available food source, safe enough to trust for the rest of her life.

She even had a butler (albeit not a very sane one) that held her and fed her quesito, as if she was Dionysus.

"Nana nana nananá. Nini nini nininí. She's a lady." Bruno sang under his breath, sliding his feet around with bouncy steps, dancing. On one hand he held Julita, and on the other a small cube of cheese. "She's a lady. Whoaoaoa she's a lady. I am a dad and she's a lady. And the lady is ¡AH!"

Suddenly flying towards the wall, launched backwards by a very startled Bruno, Julita barely had time to wonder what was going on before she heard your hurried voice.

"He's not here. My dad's not here." You informed, closing the door behind you and rushing to your husband's side.

Julita bounced on the soft wooden boards and fell on the carpet, scatheless.

Bruno's betraying hands had found his wife's. He looked into your eyes with a serious, concerned expression.

"Do you want me to go check?" He offered, squeezing your fingers gently. "Maybe he's late or..."

"By six hours? Ay, Dios... No, guisantito, no." You hugged him. Buried your face on the crook of his neck, took a deep breath and felt his soft, cautious hands pressed against your back. One of them started combing your hair.

"Ssssh. He's alive, cielo." Bruno whispered. "I'll go check. One second, okay?"

"Can I see?"

Your husband hesitated. His eyes shifted away from yours. He lied.

"Eh... N-no. No. Stay here, okay? Just in case he arrives. The visions are a bit less... clear when there's someone else watching."

Ah, were they? Because Julita clearly heard the hum of three small beating hearts inside of you, and she all but heard Bruno's thoughts admitting something like 'stay behind, because if he's dead, I don't want you to see'.

Shock harms babies. Julita knew because of that one time when she got spooked by the creak of a window and ate her seven newborns in one sitting. And Bruno could soften the blow if the vision was bad, but if you were there and the image was gruesome...

You nodded, and he left.

Julita watched you sit down defeatedly as she sniffed around, trying to find the cheese cube. She heard the sand scratching the floor and walls of the vision's cave.

You sighed. Bounced your leg. Wringed your hands. Sighed again.

Ah, there was the cheese. So soft and amazing, Julita loved it very much. Her piercing teeth scratched its surface, filling her little mouth with big lumps of flavour.

Hurried steps, and the door opened.

"I know where he is." Bruno grabbed his ruana from the back of a chair, kissed your forehead and looked you in the eyes. "Don't move, okay? I'll bring him here."

"Is it bad?" You were holding back tears. Your voice was shaky.

"He- He's alive, okay? He's alive." Bruno looked around, grabbing a bunch of fabric and hiding it inside one of his many pockets. They were big and warm, Julita liked them. "I'll bring him here. Don't move."

"Okay... Bruno, I love you." You wimpered.

"Love you too, cielo. Bye."

"Be careful!" You yelled as he left with long strides, his ruana swinging around wildly. "God... Por favor, papá. Por favor, papá. Por favor..."

You prayed for half an hour, then an hour, then two. Julita had already finished the cheese, but she stayed for the drama.

You almost stepped on her when you heard the commotion outside. You ran to the door, tore it open and launched yourself downstairs.

Julita, ever the gossip, ran behind you. Her nose twitched as soon as she entered the hallway.

Ah, blood. The familiar smell of a stressed mother. Julita would know it anywhere.

Chapter Text

So fucking cold, cold as balls. And on top of that, everything stung.

Your dad couldn't see very well, his eyes swollen and pretty much useless. He couldn't feel either, since his body had decided to get rid of sensation after the first hour. But he could hear. He could hear alright.

"¿Qué?"

"Viene alguien."

"No puede ser. ¿Qué hacemos?"

"Al igual también lo matamos."

"Venga."

He wanted to chuckle, but his lungs had stopped working over minimal capacity. He could only wheeze, and wheeze he did.

"Allá, tras el árbol. Y lo baleamos."

"Silencio."

"Pues si viene a caballo, no nos escucha."

Woah, a big spin for his head.

Was he moving?

He felt like he was moving.

Was he gonna puke?

"¿¡Qué!? ¿¡Juan!?"

"¡Arena! ¡Corre!"

"¡Me ahogo! ¿¡Dónde estás!?"

"¡Tú corre!"

Ah, scared of a little dirt. They didn't make mobsters like they used to. If he was still young, he would have crushed the sand with his nostrils and made some lovely colored glass.

Another BIIIIIG spin. He puked.

"Ay, Dios... Okay, okay, deep breath. You can do this. You're doing this. You'll do this, no other option."

Very well said, yessir. Your dad admired anyone who could finish what they started. 

"Can you move your hands?"

No, he couldn't. But he couldn't reply either, so the answer would have to remain a mystery forever.

"Okay, and under the... Stop bleeding! Dios... Please!"

IF he could stop bleeding... would he? Running out of blood was making him feel warmer. A bit too hot, even. And there was... a soft, enticing light. A sense of peace. One he hadn't felt since he stopped being able to look at María's sleeping figure in the mornings.

"Done, fine, yeah. We did it! Please, God, please don't do this to your bebita..."

Oh, his bebita. Yeah, he should try not to die, shouldn't he?

Except... he was a bit too far off the deep end. A bit too lost in the smooth, relaxing fog that filled his brain. There was no way out, and if there was, he couldn't find it. And it was fine! It was okay.

After all, he always knew he'd go out like that.

"Fifteen minutes." Dolores announced with a serious tone. "Tío Bruno's heart is too loud, but I think there's two heartbeats. The rain doesn't help."

Alma nodded solemnly, covering her granddaughter's ears with her hands before raising her voice to repeat what she said to the rest of the family. Every Madrigal was doing their best to get the house ready for your father: Julieta and Agustín cooked, Luisa and Félix were busy turning the nursery into a makeshift hospital, Isabela grew the plants Mirabel needed to make herbal remedies and Camilo made sure you and Antonio stayed clueless while he tried to keep his mother calm. Dolores listened through it all, warning the rest of Bruno's position.

"Ay, I can't stop!" Pepa complained, frustrated, combing her fingers through her hair. "Where's Antonio?"

"In his room." Camilo rubbed his mother's back gently. "I gave him a book and some pencils. He's fine."

"Dolores, I'm so sorry. This is just..."

Dolores raised her hand, interrupting her mother. The sound of another thunder made her flinch but she pushed through it, showing no signs of pain except for her slightly glossy eyes.

"I made a mistake." She whispered. "Eight minutes. But I can't..."

"Eight minutes!" Alma covered the teenager's ears again, preventing her from saying anything else. "Camilo! Mirabel!"

Mirabel peeked nervously over her shoulder, through the banister's railing. She was kneeling in front of Isabela's open door, packing bunch after bunch of leaves in empty glass jars.

"Already?" She asked. "We're not done."

"We are." Isabela interrupted, emerging from her bedroom with her arms covered in twigs and scratches. With a single swipe, she created vines to move the full jars downstairs. "We take it from here. You and Camilo get Antonio out of the house."

"Pero..." Mirabel protested.

"Sin peros, Mira!" Tía Pepa stood up from the chair she was sitting on, in the middle of the entrance hall. With her hands on her hips, she yelled in her niece's direction. "You go get Antonio! Camilo, you get the coats and umbrellas! And all three of you leave until tomorrow! Understood!?"

"Sí, mamá." Camilo immediately headed to the entrance closet to do as he was told. Mirabel got the message, scrambling towards Antonio's room without a second remark.

Dolores kept listening. Another thunder, another sharp burst of pain through her skull.

"Where are you going to take Antonio?" Asked Alma. She was asking Camilo, but she kept eyeing her granddaughter with worry on her features. "Pablo's?"

"Doña Laura's." The boy replied absentmindedly, searching for the right coats and umbrellas while he tried to hold them all at once.

"Doña Laura's?" The old woman tilted her head. "Why would she take you? Does she even have the space?"

"Her daughter's-" Camilo stopped himself. He pulled Antonio's frog-shaped umbrella from under a cardboard box. "Her daughter and I are close. I work for her too, on her garden."

Alma hummed. With his arms full and nothing else to say, the teenager waddled towards the bottom of the staircase. Pepa rushed to help him carry everything.

"She's very nice, that girl." She commented, grabbing her younger son's coat and Mirabel's wool ruana. "I like her."

Camilo exhaled through his nose. Sort of laughing, but too tense to actually do it.

"Nice is not the word." He explained. His eyes darted around, searching his cousin on the upper floor. He used his hand to amplify his voice, calling her. "Mirabel!? You coming or what!?"

No response. Mumbling curses, Camilo started climbing the stairs towards his brother's room, followed by Pepa.

Dolores kept listening. The rain was getting lighter. Distracting her mother had been the right call.

"Two heartbeats. Very faint, but it's there." She hid a sigh of relief. Her grandmother's hands on her ears brought her some comfort.

"Two heartbeats! Julieta, ready!" Alma announced. After that, she leaned closer to Dolores and whispered. "You'll tell me about Camilo and doña Laura's daughter after this, right?"

"It's a whole telenovela." Dolores nodded, closing her eyes. She didn't want to lose her tío's horse. Five minutes. "Camilo made up a fake girlfriend so they could be friends, but he's still in love with her."

"And has Casita..." Alma started.

"Oh, yeah. His room is full of her stuff."

"Good. Let's see if your cousins hurry as well."

"Milo, where are we going? Is mamá coming?" Antonio's voice chirped from upstairs. He was rubbing his eyes as if he had just woken up from a nap, already enveloped in his very plushy orange coat. Camilo carried him in his arms, dressed very similarly. Mirabel and Pepa walked behind them, whispering instructions to each other about the child's night routine and the herbal remedies for your father.

"No, today we have a super cool sleepover." Camilo used his fakest, most cheerful voice. "We leave the adults here to do boring stuff and we spend the night playing. How does that sound?"

"I don't know. Good, I guess." The five-year-old shrugged. "But why does mamá have a cloud?"

Good question, actually. Camilo said the first thing that came to his head.

"She lost a bracelet. But we'll make her another one, and she'll cheer up, right?"

Antonio thought for a second.

"I think you're lying to me, but I'll pretend." He offered. "If you tell me after."

That actually made his brother chuckle. Camilo adjusted the kid's position on his hip to open the door comfortably, turning around to say goodbye to everyone over his shoulder.

"We'll send papá to tell you if there's any news." Dolores looked at her brothers and cousin with a pained expression. She wanted to leave as well, more than anything, but she had to stay at least until tío Bruno showed up. "Take care."

"Bye, Lola." Mirabel's wave goodbye was sad. Her lips were a thin line. "Get some sleep, okay?"

Dolores nodded. When the door closed, she winced. Two minutes.

She heard the horse's hooves hitting the mud, her tío's mumbled, desperate prayers, your sniffs upstairs. She heard your leg bouncing up and down with anxiety. Your father's heartbeat getting slower and slower.

"They're here." She whispered.

She didn't even wait for Alma's reaction. Dolores stood up and rushed upstairs, to her room, because she knew what came next.

"Open the door! Quick!"

"Brunito! What happened?"

"No time. ¿Julieta?"

"Kitchen."

"Félix, grab his legs please?"

"Ay Dios, ay dios, ay dios..."

"Pepa, la nube..."

"Tío. I can carry him."

"Thank you, Luisa."

"So?"

"Isabela!"

"¡Sí, ya bajo!"

"...going to kill him. And-and I honestly don't know how he made it here, he was..."

"Agustín, go make sure she doesn't see this."

"Okay, yeah. God. Is that..."

"Here, put him on the table. Isa! We need to hold the tongue!"

"On it."

"They could've killed you. God... He's dangerous, Brunito!"

"Yeah, and what else could I do!? Leave my father-in-law to die in the jungle!?"

Dolores was almost there, almost inside her peaceful, silent room.

"No, no! Go back upstairs!"

"Agustín, no! ¿Papá? ¿Bruno?"

"They're here, okay? Both alive. Now go upstairs."

"Just let me see them. Please. I need to-"

Dolores' hand was on the doorknob. Technically, she could be inside already. She pulled the door open, hesitated for just one second too long.

Your blood-curling scream sounded like a million thunders, like fireworks exploding between her ears. Dolores fell to her knees, holding her head between her hands, pressing tight.

She saw white.

"He's alive. I know it doesn't look like it, but he's alive, okay? We got there on time."

"Bruno... Bruno, he's..."

"Sh. He's alive. Let them work, I'll make you some tea."

"Bruno, I beg you. Brunito. A vision."

"No need. I've already checked. He'll live, cielo, it's okay."

"Can I see the..."

"Upstairs. Here. Hold my hand."

"Bruno, you saved him."

"I... Let's not... Look, tea. Tea? A cup of tea. And then I'll tell you everything."

"Okay... So he'll live? You sure?"

"Eh... Yes. Yeah."

"God, I just wish he didn't have to go through this..."

Two sets of feet walked together, dragging you and your husband upstairs for a good session of tea-drinking and shameless lies about your father's life expectancy. Dolores crawled inside her bedroom, closing the door with her foot before curling up in a fetal position, right there on the ground. Everything was soft and plush, everything was cushioned and safe and QUIET.

She was done with the day, couldn't be of any more help. But somehow, as tears started to stream down her cheeks, she wished she could comfort her tíos from up close without hearing how your dad's life left him, slowly but surely, while the rest of her family worked together to make him hold on just a little longer.