Work Text:
Pepa stared at her son, only seven, with tears in her eyes, waiting calmly but desperately. She pretended he didn't look nervous or uncomfortable. Even so, even if he was - which he wasn't - , it was an act of compassion, and why shouldn't he want to do so for his own mother? That thought expanded her cloud, casting a shadow over her that made Camilo's blood run cold.
Given less than a second, he was a foot-and-a-half taller, his curly hair looser, and his face, no longer a child's but a man's, adorned with stubble and a thin mustache, his eyes big and expressive. The rain came down harder.
Pepa stood, her heart aching and her nose burning, and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. " Hermanito. "
Camilo didn't move, not when she let him go, not when she gripped his shoulders with angry, trembling hands.
"Why did you leave us?" Her hands shot up higher, up to his face, and she shook him roughly. " Bruno, where did you go?"
A clap of thunder, and Camilo jolted with a gasp, flickering into himself, and then his father, before returning to the form of his uncle.
His mother gazed into his eyes - no, his Tío's eyes - and he didn't dare speak. She kissed one cheek, the other, and pressed a longer one to his forehead.
"Okay," she whispered, Camilo's cue that it was finished. He returned to himself once more. "Thank you, mi amor ."
He scurried from the room, but not without stopping in the doorway and wishing his mamí a good night.