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Chapter Text

Bruno’s stare was liable to burn holes in his shirt. It was piercing and strange, matched with the sort of expression one might get if they just saw a ghost. It made Mateo’s skin crawl. 

“Uh . . . hi?” Mateo said it as though it were a question. It wasn’t the kindest way to greet someone. If his father was there, he’d probably scold him for being so impolite. But what else was he supposed to say while being stared at like that?

Bruno didn’t answer, his lack of response garnering the attention of the other inhabitants of the kitchen. Julieta paused her cooking, turning around and looking at her brother with a confused frown. Pepa looked equally troubled. Mateo glanced over at Agustín, who simply gave him a shrug. He was sitting on one of the chairs, with his right leg propped up on another. It was broken in what Mateo assumed was more than one place, judging by the horrible angle it stuck out at. How Agustín wasn’t sitting there crying in agony was beyond him. He didn’t even want to go to Julieta, his crush on her overwhelming at the best of times and crippling at the worst. He was terrified of bothering her the same way everyone else in the village did, and Mateo could hardly blame him. People there went crying to her about every little scratch and bruise. The sun had long since set, and by the time Mateo had managed to drag Agustín to the Madrigal house, Julieta was out of food to give. They were waiting for her to finish cooking something for him, a complicated meal by the looks of it. Pepa had wandered in at some point, joining their conversation instantaneously. 

Mateo was happy to watch the conversation flow around him. He didn’t do well with most things social. Agustín had once described him as “sorta abrasive, but in a funny way”. It didn’t sound like a compliment, but Mateo could live with that. He hated attention, ever since he was a child and the white spots started appearing on his tan skin. People stared and whispered. It always made Mateo want to crawl into some hidden hole in the ground and stay there. It was then Mateo stopped trying socially. He had Agustín, and that was fine by him. He knew Pepa from the library, though. Her and her siblings were two years above them in school, so there was no reason for them to interact. But she was a frequent visitor of the library. It made Mateo nervous to lend her a book - there were a few times they had come back soaking wet and ruined. But the guilty expression on her face always kept him from holding a grudge. 

Still, Mateo never made an attempt to actually befriend her. The Madrigal children were as close to celebrities as one could get in a village like theirs. Mateo had no interest in sharing their spotlight. He had no interest in any spotlight at all.

Perhaps that was why Bruno’s stare was so disconcerting. It was clear he had come into the kitchen in search of his sisters. The surprise of guests probably freaked him out , Mateo thought. He didn’t know Bruno in the slightest. They had never met. They had never even spoken to each other. Mateo was sure Bruno had never even properly seen him before. But the rumors flew at such a high velocity that not even a self-imposed loner like Mateo could avoid hearing them. Bruno had a reputation, though Mateo was sure it was all bullshit. His father taught Bruno’s class. He had described him as shy, but sweet. He was more inclined to believe what his father had to say over a bunch of gossiping viejas or chismosa teens. Still, being stared at in such a way was uncomfortable, to say the least.

“Hello?” Mateo tried again. What was worse than being stared at was being ignored while being stared at. It made the situation all the more strange. 

Pepa hopped off the counter she was sitting on before walking over to Bruno. She waved her hand in front of his face while calling out his name. Bruno blinked once, then twice. He looked at Pepa, but his gaze was already drifting back to Mateo the moment he looked away. Mateo’s fists clenched by his side, his blunt nails digging harshly into the sweaty palms of his hands. He kept glancing between Bruno and Agustín in a panic. Agustín didn’t look all too pleased with the situation unfolding before him, his thick eyebrows knitting together. There wasn’t much he could do however, practically strapped to the chair he was sitting in.

“It’s you,” Bruno said after what felt like an eternity.

“It’s me?” Mateo asked, his orange wisps of eyebrows furrowing together.

“I mean - I just . . . I - we’re supposed to . . .” Bruno stammered before trailing off. 

“Supposed to what?” Mateo asked.

“Get married,” Bruno said.

For a single moment, everything froze. Then a gust of wind burst through the open window, knocking over the bowl Julieta was using. It hit the floor with a clatter, its contents spilling out everywhere. Julieta hardly seemed to take notice. She was just staring at Bruno with thinly veiled horror. Pepa’s expression was no better. Despite the wind blowing around the kitchen and forcing his overgrown, ginger hair into his face, Mateo could feel his skin quickly heating up. Agustín’s jaw was completely ajar, hanging so low Mateo thought a bug might fly in. Mateo looked over at Bruno again, to find him shrinking under everyone’s gaze. Before he could even think of a response, Bruno was running out the kitchen. 

The wind began to lessen its assault on the kitchen some. Julieta dropped to the ground and began to clean her mess. Mateo bent down to help her, his eyes still on the archway which Bruno had just escaped through.

“Oye, I don’t want to sound rude, but what the hell was that?” Agustín asked as he fixed his glasses. They had nearly fallen off his face due to the sudden wind. “I mean, is your brother always like that?”

“Yes - I mean, no,” Pepa said as she stroked her loose curls. “Well, he’s kinda like that. But not like that , ya know?”

“Yes,” Agustín said, before slowly shaking his head. “Actually, no. I don’t.”

Pepa sighed. “Bruno’s . . . different. But he doesn’t go around telling people he’s gonna marry them. That’s weird, even for him.”

“Glad to know I’m special,” Mateo couldn’t help but mutter. Julieta snorted before standing up. She handed Mateo a rag as he stood up as well. Mateo started to wipe his hands with it.

“Maybe it was a vision,” Julieta said as she cleaned off her hands in the sink. Mateo stilled, rag still wrapped around his hand.

“A vision?” He echoed. “Like, a ‘predict the future’ vision?”

“He doesn’t always tell us what he sees, so maybe,” Julieta said with a shrug. It was so casual, like she wasn’t implying that Bruno foresaw their future marriage. 

“Mateo Madrigal,” Agustín said thoughtfully. “I like it. Sounds fancy.”

Chapter Text

Mateo had all the luck of a broken mirror. He was sure of it. 

“I don’t want to eat dinner with the Madrigal’s.” If there was a whine in his voice, his father was kind enough not to point it out.

“It’s an honor, Mateo,” His father said instead. He was fixing his collar whilst staring in the mirror that hung on the wall by their front door. “They do so much for the community. If they want us to join them for dinner, then we will.”

Mateo opened his mouth to protest once more, but it shut upon seeing the look his father was giving him. His father was a patient man, that was to be sure. But even he had his limits. Mateo had a feeling that after listening to his son complain and protest the entire day, he was quickly reaching them.

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset - Jesus, you need a haircut,” His father said as he turned to face Mateo. He took a step towards him and immediately began to start smoothing out his unruly hair. Mateo rolled his eyes. His father was the type of man who believed every boy should have clean-cut, shortly cropped hair. Mateo’s thick, shaggy, ginger hair was just barely reaching the nape of his neck and his father was already threatening to chop it off while he slept. “Anyone else would be jumping at the chance to eat with the Madrigals.”

“I guess I’m not anyone else,” Mateo grumbled as he batted his father’s hands away. His father arched an eyebrow.

“Guess not.” It wasn’t insulting, the way he said it. At least, Mateo could tell his father didn’t mean it to be an insult. Still, he could feel himself deflate a little. “Look. It’d be rude to reject anyone’s invitation, let alone theirs. Can’t you just pretend you want to go?”

“Fine,” Mateo sighed.

“Bueno,” His father said. He checked the watch strapped around his wrist. “Let’s go, then. We don’t want to be late.”

Mateo followed his father out of the front door. The sun was beginning to set. The sky was a glowing orange, the clouds a soft pink. The village was slowly settling down for the night. Shops were closing, and the aroma of the various dinners being cooked drifted through the air. A group of children ran by, kicking a ball amongst them. Faintly, Mateo could hear the sounds of someone strumming their guitar. For a moment, he was struck with just how beautiful the Encanto was. He had never known anything else, and never would. Yet, he couldn’t even conceive of a place more picturesque than the hidden village his life played out in. 

It was strange to imagine that just seventeen years before this, there was no Encanto to speak of. No village, no mountains, no magic. Just a forest. He tried to picture his father helping to build the village square they walked through with his bare hands. His father was something of an intellectual, so the thought was difficult to grapple with. Mateo glanced over at him. He was a prideful man. A genius of a man. Maybe he would have done great things if they weren’t here. Lived in a big city, had some important and powerful job.  Instead, he taught at their tiny school and ran their even smaller library. He couldn’t help but wonder sometimes if his father longed for more. He wasn’t like Mateo. He had known something else, had a taste of something more. There was a whole world outside of their mountains. Did his father miss it? Selfishly, Mateo hoped he didn’t. 

As they approached the Madrigal house, the front doors swung open. Alma Madrigal, the matriarch of not only their family but seemingly the entire village, stood in the doorway. She was a beautiful yet intimidating woman. Mateo saw her often around the village. She seemed to be everywhere at once, always helping someone or overseeing some sort of project. He got exhausted just watching her, and yet she always had her head held high. She came into the library sometimes, just to check on things and see if they needed any help. Mateo always hid within the shelves whenever she was there. He hadn’t spoken a word to her since he was a small child. He was always so, so sick growing up and she often went out of her way to help his father care for him when things got especially bad. As he got older, he grew stronger, and thus her visits had become more and more sparse. He didn’t like the idea of someone out there, someone who wasn’t his father, having seen him at his most vulnerable. 

“Welcome!” She crowed as they walked up the front steps of the house. “I’m so glad you both could join us tonight.”

“Thank you for having us,” Mateo’s father said, before nudging Mateo with his elbow. Mateo stood up straight.

“Yeah,” He said, before cringing inwardly. “I mean, thank you.”

Alma smiled at him, though her eyes were ablaze with curiosity. It took everything within Mateo not to take a step back. 

“I brought a little something,” His father said. “To express our gratitude.”

He handed over the bottle of wine he had carried there. Alma took it before flashing a grateful smile his way. 

“And here I was, about to apologize for our lack of wine,” Alma said. Suddenly, the floor beneath her feet turned flat and began to move her backward a few steps in. She let out a shocked chuckle. “I guess Casita is telling me dinner is ready. Come in, come in.”

Mateo’s father immediately entered, the floor moving him along as well. Mateo stood frozen in the doorway.

“Please don’t do that to me too,” He said before stepping in. The floor returned to its original cobblestone state, and Mateo sighed in relief. He followed where the floor had carried his father and Alma off to. He ended up in a dining room. 

There was a long, wooden table in the center of it, with a white table cloth splayed out over it. There were six plates set out, and across the table was more food than Mateo thought any of them could eat in one sitting. It all smelled phenomenal, however. Mateo could feel his mouth watering as he stared at the buffet awaiting him. 

“This all looks amazing,” His father said. “Thank you Alma. This is far too kind.”

“Oh it wasn’t just me,” Alma said. “My daughter Julieta helped. If I’m being honest, she did most of the work.”

“Well I’ll have to thank her as well,” His father said. He threw Mateo a look, who immediately began to nod in agreement. Alma smiled at them, bfore telling the house to get her children. Instantly, he heard movement from upstairs, followed by three sets of footsteps running down the steps and into the dining room.

The Madrigal children were all dressed nicely, though judging by the cloud above Pepa’s head and the way she kept fiddling with her dress, she wasn’t exactly happy with her appearance.

“I like your dress Pepa,” Mateo said, hoping to make her feel a bit better. A grin instantly broke out on her face, the cloud morphing into a rainbow.

“Thank you!” She said happily. Mateo gave a small smile, before realizing he should probably complement the others as well. Lord knows all he needed was for his dad to pester him later tonight about possibly having a crush on Pepa. 

“You look really nice too Julieta,” Mateo said. Julieta smiled and thanked him. “And uh … you too Bruno.”

Bruno didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at him. He was just staring at his shoes. They weren’t the typical sandals he often saw Bruno running around the village in. They were dress shoes. Julieta nudged Bruno with her elbow.

“Oh … thanks,” Bruno said quietly, his eyes never leaving his shoes. Mateo shifted awkwardly, unsure what to do. 

Bruno was the entire reason he was so adamantly against the idea of going to eat at the Madrigals. He wasn’t fond of sitting through a dinner with near-strangers during normal circumstances, but after that … incident, he had taken special care in avoiding the Madrigals altogether. If Pepa came into the library, he hid away and let his father deal with her. Julieta had tried seeking him out in school once but seemed to have gotten the hint when he quite literally ran in the opposite direction. Bruno, thankfully, seemed to be putting as much effort into avoiding him as Mateo was. Which was fine. Mateo wanted to forget the whole thing even happened.

“Well, let’s eat,” Alma said, clapping her hands together. “The foods going to get cold if we keep standing around like this.”

Bruno ended up sitting across from him. He kept his eyes on his plate, never once looking up. Mateo didn’t offer much for conversation. He just listened as his father and Alma caught up, as his father asked Julieta and Pepa how they were doing with the assignment he had just given them. He tried asking Bruno questions as well, but Bruno’s stammered responses quickly let his father know he wasn’t interested in talking. Mateo could instantly tell which dishes Julieta had cooked. They left him with a warm feeling, as though his insides were glowing. For a moment, he was actually grateful that his father had dragged him over there. The food made the discomfort and anxiety seem worthwhile. 

“So! Mateo!” Alma said suddenly. Mateo looked over at her, startled. “You would be in Soledad’s class by this point, wouldn’t you? Forgive me for asking, it’s been a long while since we’ve had the chance to talk.”

“Uh, yeah,” Mateo said. “I’m in Señora Diaz’s class now.”

“She’s a smart woman,” Alma said. 

“She’s too strict!” Pepa huffed. Julieta nodded in agreement.

“Well, sixteen-year-olds are difficult to manage,” Alma said. “So I can’t say I blame her. But I doubt you’re giving her too much trouble Mateo.”

“No,” Mateo said. “I don’t. Kinda hard to give a teacher trouble when your dad’s two rooms over.”

Alma chuckled. “I guess that’s true. But Pepa says you’re very smart. I’m sure you get excellent grades.”

“I wouldn’t say excellent -”

“Oh don’t be humble,” Alma said, waving a hand in the air. 

“He’s a lot smarter than he gives himself credit for,” His father agreed. Mateo could feel himself growing hot. He quickly took a drink of water.

“I guess,” He said after a moment. 

“You know, I always see you running around with the Fernandezes son,” Alma continued. “Are you two close?”

“Yeah,” Mateo said. “Agustín’s my best friend."

“They’re a good family,” Alma said before taking a bite of her food. Mateo watched as she chewed and swallowed, praying this was the end of her questioning him. “Though Agustín’s very clumsy, isn’t he? I think he’s had to go to Julieta more times than anyone else in the Encanto.”

“He doesn’t try to bother her, though,” Mateo said quickly. He tried not to come off as defensive, though he was sure he didn’t sound as kind as he hoped. He rarely ever did. “He deals with most of his injuries by himself. He’s considerate like that. He’s honestly the nicest guy I know.”

“Oh, I’m sure he is,” Alma said. “I didn’t mean to try to make it sound like he was burdening us. Our entire job is to help the people of the Encanto. Speaking of jobs, however, Pepa tells me you’re always helping your father in the library.”

“Uh-huh,” Mateo said while nodding.

“I’ve always wondered how you both managed to get your hands on so many books,” Alma continued. “I remember your father and mother when we made our journey here. They both were carrying sacks full of them. But every time I go in there, there seems to be more.”

“Oh, well, my dad has a photographic memory,” Mateo said. A part of him - he wasn’t sure if it was his heart or stomach - sank at the mention of his mother. It always did. “He’s read hundreds of books -”

“That’s definitely an exaggeration,” His father laughed. Mateo arched an eyebrow.

“Definitely not,” He said. “Anyway, he’s been writing down all the books he’s read. So I rewrite a few copies and uh … well they don’t look as nice as real books, but I try.”

“I’ve got chicken scratch for handwriting,” His father said. Julieta giggled. Mateo could only imagine the pains they went through to understand whatever his father wrote on the chalkboard. He truly had the worst handwriting he’d ever seen. “But Mateo might as well be a calligrapher. Without him, there wouldn’t be half as many books to lend out.”

“You sound like a hard worker,” Alma said. “And like you’re very dedicated to helping your family and the Encanto.”

“I guess,” Mateo shrugged. “It’s not really a big deal. We all have to do our part.”

Alma’s grin was wide, causing the corners of her eyes to crinkle. “I couldn’t agree more.”

Throughout the rest of the dinner, Alma continued to ask Mateo question after question. He couldn’t help but feel as though he were being interrogated. He knew Alma was most likely just being polite, but that spark of curiosity had never left her eye. He was too suspicious for his own good. At least, that’s what his father always said. Julieta and Pepa diverted the conversation a few times, much to Mateo’s momentary relief. But the attention always fell back on him. By the time dinner was finished, he was desperate to get out of there. 

“Marcelo, I was actually hoping I could have a word with you in private,” Alma said as they began to get up from the table.

“Oh, of course,” His father agreed. 

Mateo bit his tongue. He wanted to plead with his father to just leave. He wanted to go home. He watched as his father followed Alma out of the dining room before sighing. He turned to look at the others, only to find that Bruno had disappeared. 

“Bruno’s such a pendejo,” Pepa grumbled as she began to clear the table. “Why isn’t he helping?”

“Leave it alone,” Julieta said. “Oh Mateo, you don’t have to worry about that. You’re a guest.”

“It’s fine,” Mateo said as he continued to pick up empty dishes, stacking them one on top of the other. “I want to.”

Mateo helped clear the table in silence. Pepa and Julieta were talking amongst themselves. If they tried including him in the conversation, he didn’t notice. He couldn’t think of anything other than what his father and Alma could possibly be talking about. They didn’t need any help in the library. Maybe it was about the school. He gnawed on his bottom lip as he carried the dishes into the kitchen and placed them on the counter. Julieta was already washing the ones she had carried in. When she finished with one, she’d place it on the counter only for it to be carried off by the house itself. He watched as the tiles pushed the dishes into the drying rack, unable to take his mind off of the conversation happening a few rooms over. 

Perhaps he was a narcissist because the thought that they were talking about him kept popping into his mind over and over. He would push the thought away, try to think of some other explanation, only for it to reappear moments later. 

“Mateo!” Pepa snapped suddenly. “Stop pacing! You’re making me nervous!”

Mateo froze. He hadn’t realized he was pacing. Pepa was sitting at the kitchen table, a cloud hanging over her head as her hair whipped around in wind that only seemed to surround her.

“Sorry,” Mateo said. He backed up against the counter, willing his feet to stay still. Pepa stroked at her hair, muttering something under her breath over and over. The wind stopped, but the cloud only seemed to grow darker and larger. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah!” Pepa said quickly. It was a little too quick. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Your uh … well the cloud keeps getting bigger,” Mateo said, rubbing the back of his neck. Pepa looked up before groaning. She bit her lip before looking back at Mateo.

“Ok!” She cried out after a few moments. “Please don’t be mad!”

“Why would I be mad?” He asked, cocking his head to the side. Pepa seemed to shrink a little bit. “Pepa?”

“I told my mom about you and Bruno,” She admitted quietly. Mateo’s eyes widened as his jaw dropped.

“Pepa!” Julieta snapped, turning around with a frown. Pepa seemed to shrink even more, curling into herself as she stroked her hair with enough force that Mateo thought she might end up tugging a few strands out. The cloud above her expanded before thundering lowly.

“You told your …” Mateo trailed off as his mind reeled. “Me and Bruno? There is no me and Bruno!”

“Why would you do that?” Julieta asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“Mamá asked me why Bruno was acting weirder than usual so I told her that it probably was because he told Mateo that he was going to marry him before running away and she went to ask him about it and he admitted he had a vision and next thing I know, she’s inviting them to dinner!” Pepa spoke so quickly Mateo had trouble keeping up. She said everything in one breath, as though she couldn’t wait to get it out. “I didn’t know he actually had a vision about it or that she was going to make such a big deal! How is that my fault!”

“Pepa I can’t believe -”

“He said he saw it in a vision?” Mateo asked, suddenly feeling as though he couldn’t breath. Pepa’s eyes widened. A small light bolt struck above her. Her hands moved even faster as they stroked her hair roughly.

“You are such a chismosa!” Julieta scolded.

“I’m not a chismosa!” Pepa protested. “If I was, I would have told Agustín you have a crush on him!”

“What?” Mateo asked, twirling around to face Julieta. She stood there, frozen. Pepa slapped a hand over her mouth as rain began to pour down on her.

“I hate you!” Julieta shouted suddenly, throwing her dishrag at Pepa. “You’re the worst!”

“I hate you too!” Pepa screamed back, before getting up and storming off. 

Mateo could hear her feet stomping against the stairs before a door slammed from upstairs. Outside, thunder crashed like a cymbal. Rain began to pelt against the window.

Julieta and him stood in silence for several minutes. The only noise was the storm going on outside. 

“Please don’t tell him,” Julieta said. “I know he’s your best friend but … please.”

“I won’t,” Mateo promised. “But uh … you know he likes you too right?”

“He does?” Julieta asked. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Mateo said. “Don’t tell him I told you, though. He’d kill me.”

“I won’t,” Julieta said. A grin began to break out onto her face. “Oh my God … I can’t believe it.”

“I thought it was pretty obvious,” Mateo said with a small shrug. He took a deep breath as he fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “Julieta, the vision?”

“I don’t know,” Julieta admitted. “I didn’t know about any of that. I just thought my mom wanted your dad to come over ‘cause of something with the school or the library. But I guess it was ‘cause of you.”

“That seems like a lot of effort for nothing,” Mateo said. “Bruno didn’t say one word to me the entire night.”

“Well, he said one word. Two, actually,” Julieta said. Mateo gave her a blank look. She sighed. “She was probably doing it so she could get to know you herself. Make sure you’re a good fit and all. But honestly? She’s probably ecstatic. She gets super worried about Bruno being too lonely so to have actual confirmation that he’s going to get married one day … Jesus she’s probably over the moon.”

Mateo thought that was pretty doubtful. He wasn’t anybody’s first choice for their kid to marry. He wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of health. He was born too early. That’s what his dad had told him once. They didn’t think he’d last a week. He was always so sick as a child. After developing her gift, Julieta dropped off food at their house every day for a year straight. It was a bad time, though he was sure Julieta hadn’t realized it was him she did all that cooking for based upon their interactions. Even after his near-constant sickness went away, he didn’t exactly get better. He had weak lungs and a frail body. He was too short, too skinny. Boys younger than he was outsized him in every way imaginable. 

Then there were the spots. His father had told him it was called vitiligo when they started appearing all over his body. Apparently, his mother had it. On his worst days - when his insecurities were so violent he thought they might eat him alive - he’d remind himself over and over that he looked like his mother. He didn’t like the comments. He absolutely hated the stares. But if his mother had it, in his mind it was a beautiful thing. It was the one thing he had over hers that he could never lose.

“Mateo,” Julieta said. “Would it really be so bad?”

“Would what be so bad?” Mateo asked.

“Marrying Bruno?”

Mateo paused. “Julieta I don’t wanna be rude. I know he’s your brother and all but I - I don’t know him.”

“I know,” Julieta said with a grim smile.

“I don’t know any of you.”

“I know.”

“This is all just a lot to process.”

“I know,” Julieta repeated once more. “But hey, it was just dinner right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Mateo said. 

They stood in silence for several more minutes, neither of them quite sure what to say. Eventually, his father came in and told him it was time to go. Mateo nodded. He thanked Julieta for the meal as he followed his father out of the house. 

It was still raining, though it had lightened to just a drizzle. Still, by the time they got home, Mateo’s hair was stuck to his face and his clothes were clinging to his body. He made quick work of dispelling them and drying off. As he got ready for bed, there was a gentle knock on his bedroom door. His father entered after a moment.

“Hey, can ask you something?” His father asked from the doorway. Mateo nodded as he buttoned his pajama shirt up. “You still like boys, right?”

Mateo froze, the button still between his fingers. He gave his father a confused frown. “Yeah?”

“You sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Positive?”

“Pa, what’s going on?”

His father sighed before moving to sit at the edge of his bed. He patted the spot beside him. Mateo finished buttoning up his shirt before settling next to him.

“Señora Alma wants you to marry Bruno,” His father said. He was always the kind of man who got straight to the point. Mateo gaped at him, unable to come up with a single response. “I told her the only way I’d agree was if you wanted it.”

“I -”

“But I think it’s a good idea,” His father continued.

“You do?” Mateo asked, feeling utterly stunned. He swore his throat was a little tighter, making it more and more difficult to breathe.

“They’re a good family,” His father said. “They do a lot to help the community, and I know Bruno has a bad reputation, but he’s a sweet kid. Honest. Shy as hell, obviously. But he’s sweet. He tries really hard and always wants to help. I just think you two might be a good match.”

Mateo didn’t answer for a long while, mulling over his options as his father's words tossed and turned in his head. He quickly realized that there was only one thing he hated more than unwanted attention - disappointing his father.

“Okay,” Mateo said. “If you think it’s a good idea, then I will.”

His father smiled at him softly, his eyes kind and full of understanding. “I know this is difficult, mi vida. It’s a lot of change, and you don’t like the spotlight. But I really think if you get to know him, you’ll like what you find. If you don’t, you won’t marry him. It’s that simple, okay?”

“Okay Pa,” Mateo said. His father pressed a kiss to the top of his head before getting up.

“Te amo,” His father said as he walked out.

“Te amo.”

Mateo sat at the edge of his bed far into the night, far later than he would have stayed up normally. He couldn’t bring himself to move a muscle, even as they grew stiff and his eyelids grew heavy. All he could do was sit there and try to grapple with the fact that he had just become engaged to Bruno Madrigal.

Chapter Text

News traveled fast in the Encanto. No amount of respect or pity could save you from the scrutinization of your neighbors, and the Ramirez family had plenty of both. Marcelo Ramirez was the man who single-handedly created the school and library that educated all of their children. Marcelo Ramirez was the man whose wife died in labor. Marcelo Ramirez was the man whose child was considered a miracle - not due to any gifts or talents, but due to the simple fact that he was alive. Mateo often felt as though the older members of their community looked at him as though he should be dead. Not because they wanted him to be, but because they expected him to be. They were a well-respected and highly pitied pair, subject both to admiration and sympathy. It was the only reason nobody dared to actually say a word to Mateo about his engagement. Instead, they stared. They whispered. They gossiped. It made him feel like a child again, sick and weak and developing white patches all over his tan skin. 

He thought he had left that all behind, once his lungs got stronger and the novelty of his skin wore off. It all came back with a vengeance, however, as the word spread. Nobody expected Bruno to get married. He was the dimmest star in the shining constellation that was the Madrigal family. The curse of the Encanto. Mateo would hear the adults, sometimes, wondering what kind of parent would subject their kid to such a thing by having them marry the human embodiment of bad luck. His father would, apparently. Still, nobody dared say a word to the child of the man who taught their oldest children how to read. 

The library suddenly became busier. Even before this, it was rarely ever empty. There wasn’t much to do in the Encanto besides read. Yet, Mateo couldn’t recall a time that the library had ever been quite so packed. Most of the people that entered perused the aisles with no real interest. Their eyes always drifted back to him. They’d whisper to each other - though Agustín pointed out that they were supposed to be whispering when he had complained. He had punched his shoulder, hard, because obviously  he knew that. It was his library, after all. The kids in his school would find the most random reasons to talk to him, asking about school work and the weather and anything else that they believed was a good enough reason to bother him. They, like their parents, didn’t dare ask about what they really wanted to know. No, that’d be too rude . Their village had the common belief that it was much more polite to gossip behind someone’s back than just say what they meant to their face. 

Mateo, for all his practice with scrutiny, was floundering. He had spent the better part of his life perfecting the art of fading into the background. It was a difficult task in such a small town, made only more so by the sob story that followed him like a shadow. But he managed, and he managed well. By the time he entered high school, he was half convinced all his classmates had forgotten he existed. He preferred things that way. He had no idea what to do with being the center of attention. It wasn’t his role to play. He was terrible at it. He stuttered and stammered through every conversation, gave short and sarcastic responses to every question asked, and rolled his eyes each and every time yet another person randomly decided to approach him. Agustín seemed to be caught between wanting to protect his best friend and begging Mateo to put a good word in for him. He’d distract anyone who approached so Mateo could make his escape, only to later ask him to tell Alma some amazing thing he did.

“Tell her I’m a pianist,” He’d say. “Or that I babysit the Hernandez twins for free! Oooo tell her that I taught them how to swim!”

Mateo had no one to put a good word in with, however. Alma, for as keen as she was on this engagement, was far too busy during the day to bother talking to Mateo. Pepa was too caught up in her boyfriend of the month. Julieta was “busy” as well, though Mateo held the personal belief she was still too nervous to actually do anything about the confirmation of her returned affections. And Bruno was . . . well, Mateo might as well have had the plague in his eyes.

That was the most annoying part, by far. A week had gone by, and Bruno avoided him at every turn. A week of being forced into the spotlight, a week of absolute torture and it was all for nothing because the only other person involved seemed to want nothing to do with him.

“I don’t know why you care,” Agustín had said one night. It was late, far later than either of them should have been up but Mateo couldn’t sleep. He was stressed beyond belief. “You said you didn’t want to marry him.”

“I know but -”

“You literally told me that you were going to break things off after a ‘suitable amount of time’ - whatever that means.”

“I know, but -”

“It’s honestly the perfect excuse. Your fiance won’t even speak to you. Of course your dad is gonna understand if you don’t want to marry him.”

Mateo knew Agustín was right, but he still couldn’t help but be bitter. It wasn’t like he was the one who initiated this whole mess. If anyone should have been avoiding someone, it was him. 

The frustation, anxiety, and stress were driving him to insanity. It must have been because he actually found himself approaching Bruno that morning before school started. Bruno noticed, of course. In the blink of an eye, he had disappeared into the crowd. It didn’t help matters in the slightest. Mateo, strangely, found himself hoping he’d run into Bruno while waiting in the schoolyard. Agustín was asking Señora Díaz about some math problem, delaying his usual escape to the library. The schoolyard was littered with children of all ages. The younger ones played with each other, running back and forth as they took part in their made-up games. The older ones watched him with less discretion than they probably imagined they had. It made Mateo’s skin itch. He had half a mind to leave Agustín in the dust when someone called his name.

“Mateo!” Felix called as he ran over. Mateo scrunched his nose in confusion. Felix was four years older than him. It had been two years since he had been in school. There was no reason for him to be there. Furthermore, there was no reason for them to be talking. Felix was, by far, the most popular guy in the Encanto. He was adored by everyone of every age. Mateo was shocked he knew his name. “Hey, hombrecito!”

“Hi?” Mateo asked, shifting from foot to foot as Felix approached him. He prayed that Agustín didn’t come out to find them talking. He had some self-imagined feud with Felix due to the popular belief that he would be the one to marry the shining star of the Encanto, Julieta.

“You’re engaged to Bruno, right?” Felix asked. Mateo’s eyes widened. He fiddled with his glasses as he tried to collect himself.

“Yeah,” He said. “I am.”

“That’s crazy bro! Who would have thought Bruno would be the first to get engaged?” Felix laughed, before freezing. “Aw, I’m sorry. That was super rude. I didn’t mean anything by it. He just has such a bad rep, I didn’t think anyone’s parents would agree to let their kid marry him. But your dad’s cool like that, huh? I always thought so. He has a way of seeing people. You know, who they really are. Bruno’s super nice, he doesn’t deserve all the crap he gets.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Mateo grumbled before he could stop himself. He wanted to kick himself.

“What do you mean?” Felix asked as he tilted his head to the side. Mateo hated his concern. It was just so genuine. Everything Felix did seemed to be.

“He just …” Mateo trailed off. He wasn’t sure if he should really be talking about this with him. They didn’t know each other. But Felix is staring at him expectantly, so he sighs before continuing. “He doesn’t talk to me.”

“Oh,” Felix says, before shrugging. “Eh. I wouldn’t worry about it too much. He’s super shy. Took me forever to get him to talk to me.”

“Ah,” Mateo said. He hated getting advice about his fiancé from a near stranger. He was sure he made it obvious because Felix suddenly seemed all the more nervous. “Everything alright?”

Felix rubbed the back of his neck before sighing, his broad shoulders drooping. “Alright, alright! I had an ulterior motive for talking to you! I admit it! I’m sorry, you seem cool and all but … well, you’re engaged to Bruno!”

“I think we covered that already.”

“Yeah! We did!” Felix said, nodding. “So that means you get to spend time with his family, right?”

“I guess?” Mateo said it like a question. He knew he was supposed to eat dinner with the Madrigals again that coming weekend, but outside of Alma telling him just how happy she was that he said yes, he hadn’t spoken to one of them.

“So that means you talk to his sister, right?”

“Julieta?”

“What? No!” Felix said, his entire face scrunching up. “Pepa, bro! I’m talking about Pepa!”

“Pepa?” Mateo echoed, unable to hide his shock. It wasn’t that he found the idea of someone liking Pepa to be surprising. She had a long string of ex-boyfriends to prove otherwise. It’s that he, like everyone else, expected Felix to end up with Julieta.

“Yeah!” Felix said. “She’s so pretty, and the weather thing - God, it’s so cool! She’s just so awesome. But I have no idea how to talk to her. I tried to once, and a whole windstorm happened, so I’m pretty sure she hates me.”

Mateo doubted that was the case. There wasn’t a girl in the Encanto who wasn’t at least a little bit in love with Felix Flórez. 

“Anyway,” Felix continued. “I was hoping you could help a bro out.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s dating Fernando Muñoz right now,” Mateo said, not even trying to hide his disdain. Fernando was a dick, though his father had cuffed the back of his head when he had said that thought aloud. Felix, whether it was due to jealousy or actual dislike, seemed to hold no better opinion of Fernando. 

“Yeah I know,” Felix huffed. “But word on the street is he’s pretty mean to Bruno, so I doubt that’s gonna last long.”

“And who spread that rumor?” Mateo asked, arching an eyebrow.

“It’s not a rumor if it’s true!” Felix said defensively. Mateo snorted, biting his lip to hold back his full laugh. “Anyway, I don’t want to break them up or anything. I mean, I kinda do, but I don’t wanna make you help. Seems like a conflict of interest for you.”

“So how, exactly, am I supposed to help you?” Mateo asked.

“Well, I was just hoping, you know, that you could tell me some stuff about her,” Felix said while flushing.

“Oh!” Mateo said. “Uh … she likes to read, a lot. I’m pretty sure her favorite color is yellow and maybe red? I’m honestly not sure. I don’t know her that well.”

“Yellow, red, books,” Felix said. He spoke as though there were going to be a test. “I can work with that. You’ll tell me if you learn anything else, right?”

“I guess?” Mateo said. 

It was enough for Felix, though, because he was clapping him on the back with his large hands. It wasn’t forceful, but Mateo had all the strength of a leaf in the wind. He stumbled a step forward. Felix grabbed onto his shoulders and chest before steadying him. He flashed an apologetic grin.

“It’s fine,” Mateo said, tugging at the hem of his shirt. 

“Cool,” Felix said. “Thanks for all your help, hombrecito!”

Mateo adjusted his circular glasses as he watched Felix jog off. He shook his head before turning on his heel. Just a step behind him stood Bruno. Mateo screamed, dropping the books he was holding in one hand.

“Bruno!” He snapped as he watched Bruno drop to his knees and gather up the books. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why’d you sneak up on me like that?”

“I uh … sorry,” Bruno said as he handed over the books to Mateo.

“It’s fine,” Mateo said. “You’re like a shadow.”

“Sorry,” Bruno said again.”

“You don’t need to keep apologizing.”

“Sorry - I mean sorry - I mean - you know what, I’m going to stop talking now. Yeah, that’s what I’m gonna do. Just stop talking so I don’t - I’m rambling. Sorry - shit,” Bruno stammered before sighing. Silence fell over them, heavy and awkward.

“What do you want?” Mateo asked, before cringing. “That’s not how that was supposed to come out. I mean, is there anything you wanted to talk about?”

“Oh,” Bruno said, suddenly seeming even more flustered than before. His wide eyes were dancing around, looking everywhere but Mateo as he played with his slender fingers. “I just saw you talking to Felix and I wanted to tell you he’s gonna be with Pepa. Like, they get married and have kids and everything. I saw it in a vision.”

“Okay?” Mateo asked, eyebrows furrowing together. “Why are you telling me this?”

“No reason,” Bruno said. He still wouldn’t look at Mateo, staring over his head instead. 

“Well, alright,” Mateo said, taking a step back. “If that’s all you wanted to talk about -”

“No!” Bruno shouted. Mateo’s eyes widened, and Bruno began to shrink into himself. “Sorry - God, this is so … you make me nervous. Like, really nervous. I don’t know if you could tell.”

“No, not at all,” Mateo snorted, before sighing. He wasn’t a fan of seeing the way Bruno withered under his stare. It made him feel mean and Mateo wasn’t good at being mean, no matter how much he wished he was. “Look, you don’t need to be nervous around me. I’m just a guy.”

“You’re my fiancé,” Bruno said. His ears began to turn red.

“I’m the fiancé you won’t talk to,” Mateo countered, trying to hide his own embarrassment. The word felt foreign on his tongue. Bruno had the decency to look guilty.

“Yeah,” He said. “I just … what if you don’t like me? No one else does.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Mateo said, though he got the sense neither of them really believed that. “Anyway, that goes both ways. What if you don’t like me?”

“I think that’s impossible,” Bruno said, and it was so earnest that it almost hurt.

“I don’t think that’s true, either,” Mateo said. “But uh … we won’t know if we don’t try, right? We have to get to know each other first.”

“That makes sense,” Bruno said, like it was the first time he had even considered the idea. “Get to know each other. I can do that. Uh … what’s your favorite color?”

“Green.”

“Mine too!” Bruno cried it out as though it were some sort of revelation. Mateo arched an eyebrow as he eyed his all green ensemble.

“Shocking,” He said dryly. “Favorite book?”

“I don’t read much,” Bruno shrugged.

Mateo gaped at him. “What?”

“We have to change that,” He said. Forgotten was all the anxiety and stress he got from their engagement. All he could think about was the fact that there was someone standing in front of him - him of all people - casually admitting to not reading.

“We do?”

“Bruno! I work in a library! My entire life is books! I can’t be associated with someone who doesn’t read! That’ll ruin my entire reputation.”

“Right,” Bruno laughed. “Because being associated with the bad omen of the Encanto won’t ruin your reputation. No, it’ll be because I don’t read. Why didn’t I think of that?”

He had meant to say something sarcastic, but something much softer and genuine slipped out instead. “I don’t think you’re a bad omen.”

Bruno’s expression melted into something much more vulnerable, and Mateo couldn’t stand it. 

“Walk me to the library,” He said. “I’ll give you a book to read.”

“What about Agustín?” 

“What about him?”

“I mean, doesn’t he usually walk you?” Bruno asked. Mateo must have had a strange look on his face because suddenly he was panicking. “I mean - I just happened to notice that he - ya know I see him walking you after school and -”

“Stalker,” Mateo said, surprised to find how teasing and good-natured that sounded. Normally he came off much more hostile than he ever intended to. He turned and jogged up the steps of the school and opened the door. In the hallway stood Agustín and Julieta, talking. Even from a distance, Mateo could see how red Agustín’s face had become. Mateo let the door close and turned on his heel. He walked back down the steps to Bruno. “He’s fine. Let’s go.”

He walked past Bruno, and Bruno jogged to catch up. They didn’t talk as they made their way to the library. He couldn’t. He must have forgotten his voice back in the schoolyard. He could feel eyes following them as they walked down the streets, could practically hear the whispers in full volume.

He felt a sense of relief as he slipped in through the doorway. No one was there yet, not even his father. He moved to the small desk in the front, setting his books down atop of it.

“Knock, knock, knock on wood,” He heard Bruno mutter from behind him as he entered. He chose not to comment. 

He instead began to look through the aisles. There weren’t many. The library wasn’t particularly large by any means. But his father and he tried their damndest to fill it as much as they could. After several moments, he found what he was looking for. He plucked the book out of the shelf before walking back over to Bruno. He held it out.

“Here,” Mateo said. “Read this and tell me what you think.”

“Oh … alright,” Bruno said as he took the book. “I will. I have to go, though. Mamá likes us helping out after school. You know, making ourselves useful.”

Mateo nodded as he leaned against the desk. “Alright. I have to shelve the returns anyway.”

Bruno nodded. He hesitated, before turning on his heel and walking towards the front door. He paused before looking over his shoulder.

“Also, remember. Pepa. Felix. Supposed to get married,” He said.

“I will?”

“Great,” Bruno said before turning back around. He pushed open the door. “Knock, knock, knock on wood.”

Mateo didn’t say anything as he watched Bruno hit the doorway in several spots, before hitting his head. He took a deep breath and crossed his fingers before stepping out. The door slammed shut behind him. Mateo stood there for several moments longer than he needed to. Bruno was weird, that was to be certain. It didn’t surprise him, though. He had heard plenty of how strange and different Bruno Madrigal was. No, what surprised Mateo was that he didn’t hate it.

Chapter Text

Bruno was what Mateo’s father would have dubbed an oddball. He would have done so with affection, probably. He would have somehow made it sound like a compliment. Mateo wasn’t good at that sort of thing though - making the words he said sound nice, or even palatable - so he kept that thought to himself. He had quickly gotten the sense that Bruno was sensitive. He was constantly trying to make himself seem both smaller and grander than he was, jumping back and forth between shrinking into shadows and playing into the role of Alma Madrigal’s only son. He wanted so desperately to please everyone around him all the time but always lost his footing while doing so. It made Mateo feel . . . something. He wasn’t sure what. It could have been pity. It could have been understanding. Mateo understood what it was like to not quite fit in the way you hoped to. The difference was, Mateo had long since stopped trying. He pretended he didn’t care so often that he could even fool himself into believing it sometimes. Bruno seemed to care so much that it hurt. It kept him off balance, and that in turn put Mateo off balance.

Abrasive, but in a funny way , Mateo thought as he buttoned up his shirt. Agustín’s favorite descriptor of him, one that had never actually bothered him before. It bothered him now, only because he was sure Bruno didn’t find that abrasiveness funny. This was yet another reason as to why Mateo couldn’t marry Bruno. He didn’t know how to talk to people. It was an impossibility. A skill he’d never be able to master. 

“Mateo, you’re going to be late,” His father called out, his voice muffled by the wood of his bedroom door.

“I’m going, Pa,” Mateo said. 

He took one final look at himself in the mirror, forcing himself to stand up straight. His clothes were nice. Not as nice as the clothes he wore the first time he ate dinner with the Madrigals, but they were far nicer than the ones he would normally wear. His green button-up was a little loose. He had lost even more weight the last time he fell ill, and he hadn’t worn this shirt since before that. He didn’t want to wear it. He thought it made him look even smaller than he was. His father had insisted he wear Bruno’s favorite color, though. Something about it being romantic. Mateo had rolled his eyes but listened. He wasn’t one to disobey his father. He adjusted his glasses and smoothed his unruly hair as much as he could. It was a futile battle, but he hoped if he patted at it enough, his father would allow him to leave without comment. 

He exited his bedroom to find his father standing in the living room. In his hands was a tray with a tin covering it.

“What is that?” Mateo asked as he approached.

“Tres leches,” His father said as he handed it to him. Mateo took it with a small frown.

“And you’re giving it to me because?” He asked.

“It’s Bruno’s favorite,” His father said with a grin. “I asked the class what their favorite desserts were, so you wouldn’t have to go empty-handed.”

Mateo’s frown deepened. “You’re really into this whole thing, huh?”

“I just want you to be happy. You always have that frown on your face,” His father said. Instinctively, Mateo relaxed his features into a more neutral expression. “I feel like ‘this whole thing’ could make you happy. Besides, they’re a good family and -”

“Bruno’s a sweet boy and we’d make a good match,” Mateo finished, rolling his eyes. “You repeat yourself a lot. Has anyone ever told you that?”

His father shook his head with a small chuckle. “You get that attitude of yours from your mother. She always had some snarky comeback, just like you.”

Mateo stiffened slightly. “Don’t get all mushy on me right now.”

“I won’t, I won’t,” His father assured. He eyed Mateo for a moment, before sighing. “ Please let me cut your hair.”

“Adios, Pa,” Mateo said, turning and heading towards the door. He balanced the tray with one hand and opened the door with the other. 

“I’ll cut it eventually!” His father called after him. “And smile! Try to have fun!”

Mateo didn’t dignify that with a response. He just kept walking. He wished his father was going with him, however. Even if it meant having to deal with threats of a looming haircut. Mateo didn’t know how to be in social situations with Agustín or his father. He used them as a crutch. It was the entire reason his father had refused to join them. 

“You need to learn how to be with the Madrigals without using me as a shield,” His father had said. “You’re going to be one of them one day.”

Mateo didn’t tell him that he had no plans on being ‘one of them’. The entire point of even pretending he had any interest in the idea was so he didn’t disappoint his father. There were so many ways he was sure he disappointed him already, even if his father would never dare say those words aloud. He couldn’t add another to the list. Not yet. 

He tried to keep his shoulders straight as he walked, just as his father always wanted. He normally disregarded the instruction, preferring to make himself small and unnoticeable, but he had to fake some sort of confidence. Something, anything, to get through tonight. He had no safety blanket. Only himself. Mateo didn’t much like the idea of that, but he was left without a choice. The walk was made short by his swift pace. Though he wasn’t keen on eating dinner with the Madrigals once more, he didn’t want to make a bad impression by being late. 

The doors of the house swung open as he approached. No one was waiting in the doorway for him this time, leaving him standing hesitantly on the stoop. A tile popped up from the floor and nudged at his ankle. He stumbled forward a step, before turning to give the tile an accusatory look. It simply flipped back into place. Mateo turned to look back at the house. Another piece of tile nudged at his ankle again.

“I’m going, I’m going,” He grumbled. “Message received.”

He stepped into the house, the doors slamming shut behind him. He turned to look at the now-closed doors with a small frown.

“What? Keeping me prisoner now?” He asked into the air. A few tiles flew into the air before dropping back into their original spots. “Is that a yes?”

“Talking to yourself?” A familiar voice asked from behind him. Mateo suppressed a groan turning back around. 

Fernando Muñoz was handsome, with golden hair and golden skin to match. His jawline was sharp enough to cut glass, and his narrow eyes were as blue as the river that flowed throughout the village. He was a popular guy. Sociable, athletic, and intelligent.

Mateo fucking hated him. He often felt as though he were the only one who could see Fernando for who he truly was, past the smarmy charm and fake generosity. He took solace in the fact that Agustín hated Fernando as much as he did. They always took on each other's grudges and grievances as though they were their own.

“I was talking to the house,” Mateo said. Fernando stared at him incredulously.

“Why?” He asked. “Bruno’s crazy rubbing off on you already?”

“It’s a magic house,” Mateo said. “Your girlfriend can cause a rainstorm by crying and you think it’s crazy to talk to a magic house? Really? That’s the hill you want to die on?”

“Yeah, it is,” Fernando said. “Sure, the house can clearly take orders, but it’s just a house. It’s not sentient. It can’t have a conversation. Honestly, I thought you were smarter than this. I thought you at least had that going for you.”

Mateo bit the inside of his cheek with enough force that he could taste iron. There were so many things he wanted to say, but even he had enough social etiquette to know not to start an argument in someone else’s home. He turned and walked into the dining room without saying a word. Fernando followed, just a few steps behind him. Much to Mateo’s relief, Alma, Julieta, and Bruno were in the dining room setting the table. Fernando never kept up his nice guy pretenses around Mateo, unable to even tolerate the idea of being kind to someone he viewed as an outcast. But he’d never act so rudely in front of others. 

“Oh!” Alma said as Mateo entered. “Hola Mateo. I’m sorry for not greeting you sooner, I had no idea you came in.”

“Sorry,” Mateo said. “The house uh . . . told me to come in. I think.”

Fernando scoffed from behind him, but Alma smiled and shook her head.

“Of course it did,” She said. “It’s fine. Don’t worry. I just wish Casita would have told me you were here.”

Mateo threw Fernando a look, one that so clearly said I told you so. You’re a goddamn pendejo. Also I hate you and I hope your stupid blonde hair falls out. He really hoped Fernando got all of that. Fernando simply rolled his eyes before turning to look back at Alma.

“Señora, is there anything I can help you with?” He asked. Alma shook her head. 

“No, this was the last of it,” She said. “Thank you, though. Do you know where Pepa is?”

“She’s in her room,” Fernando said. “She wanted to change her dress, so I gave her some privacy.”

“Always the gentleman,” Alma said with a smile. Mateo watched with mild surprise as Bruno rolled his eyes. “Oh, Mateo. What do you have there?”

“Tres leches,” He said. Alma’s grin widened.

“Ah, how sweet,” She said. She walked over to Bruno, taking the tray from his hands and placing it onto an empty spot on the overcrowded table. Mateo wondered if they always made this much food. “It’s Bruno’s favorite, you know.”

“I heard,” Mateo said. He didn’t mean the comment to come off any sort of way. It was just words being spoken without any forethought. But Alma’s eyes softened slightly, and from behind her, he could see Bruno flush. Mateo stiffened and his brown eyes began to dance around the room, desperate to look anywhere else. He could see Julieta raise an eyebrow before biting her lip, probably to keep herself from laughing. Fernando frowned slightly, eyebrows knitting themselves together and creating a little dent between them. 

“Thank you,” Alma said as she lifted the tin off the tray, revealing the cake hidden underneath. “It looks delicious.”

“What looks delicious - ooo, tres leches!” Pepa said as she came into the dining room. Her red dress had patterns of clouds sewn into it, and her long curls were braided and thrown over her shoulder. 

“You look beautiful,” Fernando said as Pepa moved towards him. She smiled softly, a rainbow appearing over her head. 

“Thank you,” She said. Mateo scrunched up his nose, unable to ignore the feeling that Fernando more so enjoyed hearing the thank you than he did giving the compliment. 

Alma told them to sit and they all did at once. Mateo ended up in between Bruno and Julieta, with Alma at the head of the table and Fernando and Pepa across from them. They passed around the dishes as Alma asked Fernando about his family. They ran one of the several seamstress shops in the store. Their clothes were always much more ornate than the other shops were.

“I finished the book,” Bruno said quietly as he passed him a bowl of black beans. Mateo scooped some out before pouring it onto his small pile of rice. He passed the bowl to Julieta.

“How’d you like it?” Mateo asked.

“It was so sad!” Bruno said. “I mean, she died! What the hell was that?”

“But did you like it?” Mateo asked, tilting his head to the side. 

“Yeah,” Bruno said. He admitted it as though it were a secret, all hushed and conspiratory. “I loved it.”

Mateo grinned. Bruno smiled back. Not one of his awkward smiles, but a real one. The kind that was wide, showing off all his teeth and making his eyes crinkle at the sides. 

Mateo thought, suddenly, that Bruno had a nice smile. He pushed that thought away immediately.

“Loved what?” Alma asked. Mateo couldn’t tell if it was because Bruno was startled, but his smile dropped instantly. Mateo turned to look at Alma.

“I lent him a book from the library,” He said.

“Wow,” Pepa said. “I can’t believe you got Bruno to read.”

Bruno huffed but didn’t say anything.

“What book was it?” Julieta asked.

“Maria,” Mateo said.

“Ugh,” Fernando said, shaking his head. “That book is way too depressing.”

“I love that book,” Pepa said, nudging Fernando playfully. “It’s one of my favorites. Mateo keeps making me copies.”

“You do?” Fernando asked. Mateo couldn’t be sure, but it almost felt like an accusation. Of what, he didn’t know.

“Uh, yeah,” Mateo said, shifting in his seat. Everyone’s eyes were on him. “I know Pepa can’t really control the whole weather thing, so when she gets a book I know ends sadly, I usually give her one of my versions. She kept checking out Maria, and kept coming in apologizing about ruining it, so I just made her her own. When it gets messed up, I make another.”

“That is so incredibly kind of you,” Alma said. Mateo shrugged, playing with the napkin on his lap. Fernando stared at him with narrowed eyes.

“It’s really not a big deal,” He said.

“It’s still a very kind thing to do,” Alma insisted. “I imagine it isn’t easy, rewriting book after book.”

“It’s fine,” Mateo said, shrugging once more. 

“It can’t be that hard,” Fernando said. “I mean, you’re just copying down what’s already written.”

“Sounds time-consuming,” Julieta said. “My hands cramp bad enough making all those arepas. I can’t imagine having to rewrite book after book. And after going to school and having to write all day there too!”

“Yeah,” Fernando said. “I guess you have a point. But your arepas are useful. The entire village depends on them.”

“The library’s useful too!” Bruno protested suddenly and loudly. Mateo looked at him in surprise. He honestly had expected Bruno to do what he did best once everyone had joined their conversation - play dead. Mateo had that thought, the last time they ate together. That Bruno seemed like a corpse, sitting there in silence and barely making a move. He looked back over at Fernando. It was so quick Mateo thought he might have hallucinated it, but he swore Fernando had actually glared at Bruno. 

“Bruno, lower your voice,” Alma ordered. He glanced back over at Bruno, who seemed to be trying to make himself disappear. His shoulders were hunched over, his loose black curls falling into his face. He heard the distinct sound of someone tapping on wood, before realizing Bruno was tapping against the bottom of the table. He listened for a moment. He was doing it in patterns of three. 

Tap, tap, tap . Then there was a short pause before another tap, tap, tap followed. He looked back at Fernando, who had this crooked smirk on his face.

“You also have a point, Bruno,” Fernando said.

“I do?” Bruno asked, startled. Tap, tap, tap .

“Yeah,” Fernando said. “Honestly, what I said was kind of rude. I didn’t mean to imply the library was useless. They have tons of great books. I just prefer the educational kind to the sappy romances.”

“Knowing Mateo’s father, they have plenty of those,” Alma said with a smile.

“Oh, they do,” Fernando said while nodding his head. “I actually just read this really interesting one on superstitions.”

Alma’s smile tightened on the edges. Julieta stiffened, and even Pepa - who had spent the entire conversation staring at Fernando with a love struck expression -  grew a bit uncomfortable. Her smile faded as her eyes shifted over to Bruno. The room seemed to grow a bit colder, though Mateo couldn’t be sure if he had imagined it. He frowned slightly as heard another tap, tap, tap . 

“You did?” Alma asked for a moment. “Well, I’m sure it was very insightful.”

“It was,” Fernando said while nodding. “You know, there were the typical ones like the grapes on New Years and the itchy palms. But I found the ones about bad luck far more interesting. It’s kind of crazy, the things people will do to ward off bad luck.”

“I don’t think it’s crazy at all,” Mateo said, thinking of Bruno and his ritual when entering rooms. He doubted Fernando hadn’t noticed in all the months he had been dating Pepa. 

“Well, maybe crazy isn't the right word,” Fernando said. “But it is strange, don’t you think? All the things people will do to ward off bad luck. Like knocking on wood, or throwing salt over your shoulder. Or wearing a red string.”

Mateo glanced down at Bruno’s wrist. As Bruno moved his arm to tap at the table again, his sleeve pulled back slightly and sure enough, there wasn’t just one red string, but several tied around his wrist. Some had a blue and white eye on them. Mateo looked back over at Fernando, struggling to school his expression. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep the glare off his face. Fernando had yet to stop talking. 

“Some people won’t even step on cracks, because they think it’s bad luck,” Fernando said. 

Mateo’s fists curled in his lap. Bruno had made a habit of walking him to the library after school. It wasn’t something Mateo particularly minded, though Agustín was sure to tease him about it. Bruno always made himself scarce just minutes after reaching the library. Their conversations played out like some sort of questions game, both of them asking each other about the most inane things. Bruno was quirky, but in a way that Mateo found surprisingly enjoyable. His responses to questions often surprised Mateo, and every so often he’d skip over a cracked tile in a clumsy way that made Mateo laugh. 

“They’ll cross their fingers, or live in fear of numbers like thirteen,” Fernando continued. The tapping grew quicker, Bruno barely taking a pause between each set. He was chewing on his bottom lip, his left hand twitching in his lap. Julieta and Pepa had matching frowns on their faces. Alma’s tense smile had dropped entirely. Her eyes kept darting from Fernando to Bruno. Her entire body was stiff as a board. “You know, in some places, they even believe that sitting at the corner of a table will bring bad luck.”

In a flash, Bruno had shot up from his seat. The chair fell over from the force of how quickly Bruno moved. Mateo jumped in his own seat, heart slamming against his rib cage. Bruno was backing away from the table, staring at the spot he had once been sitting in - the spot closest to the corner - with a horrified expression. 

“Brunito, it’s okay,” Julieta said placatingly. “You weren’t actually at the corner.”

“It was too close,” Bruno said. His chest was rising and falling so rapidly Mateo wondered if any air was actually reaching his lungs at all. “It was too close. I can’t - it was too close.”

“Bruno,” Alma said. “Sit down. It’ll be fine.”

“Mamá, I can’t,” Bruno said.

“Bruno -”

“I can’t,” He repeated, shaking his head wildly. “I can’t, I can’t, I -”

“Switch seats with me,” Mateo said, standing up. He began switching around their plates and cutlery. 

“No, no, that won’t - you’ll just get bad luck then and it’ll be all my fault again because I made you switch with me,” Bruno said. His back was against the wall now, and he was knocking his hand rhythmically against it. Once, twice, three times, then against his head.

“It won’t be your fault, because you aren’t making me,” Mateo said. 

“But -”

“It’s okay,” Mateo insisted. “I like the corner better, anyway.”

Bruno hesitated for a moment. Mateo gave him what he hoped was an encouraging smile, and for a moment, Bruno seemed to relax. His shoulders fell as his breathing began to even out. But then he glanced over at that damned table corner once more, and all at once, the panic returned. Bruno shook his head again.

“I need - I need air. Outside. I have to . . . I have to go,” Bruno said, before rushing out. 

“Bruno!” Alma called after him, but he didn’t even pause as he made his escape. 

Mateo’s hands curled to fists by his side as he twirled around. He glowered at Fernando, who was doing his best at attempting an innocently concerned expression. Just the sight of his stupid fucking face with that stupid fucking expression - Mateo thought, for a moment, that he could have punched him. Lord knows he wanted to. He could feel his rage, hot and heavy, bubbling just beneath the surface. It burned his skin. He couldn’t think straight. Every time he tried reorganizing his thoughts, the image of Bruno pressed up against that wall, hyperventilating and knocking against his head, popped into his mind. Even though he allowed Fernando to harass him with such little protest, he couldn’t stand watching it happen to another person.

“You’ve always been a jerk, Fernando,” Mateo said. “but that was low, even for you.”

“What?” Fernando asked, eyes widening. “I didn’t mean to frighten him! I had no idea he’d react like that. Lo siento, Señora.”

“Oh shut up!” Mateo snapped. Everyone stared at him with variations of shock. “You’re really going to sit there and try to pretend that you’ve been dating Pepa for months and you hadn’t noticed that Bruno was obviously so superstitious?”

“I really hadn’t,” Fernando said.

“Don’t play stupid. He doesn’t even try to hide it,” Mateo said. “What could you possibly have gained from freaking him out like that?”

“I didn’t gain anything ,” Fernando snapped, glaring at Mateo. 

“Was it amusement? Did it amuse you? Huh? Is that what it was?”

“Why would doing something like that amuse me?”

“Because you hate Bruno!” Mateo was nearly screaming at this point. “You hate your girlfriend’s twin brother and you’re such an asshole you can’t even pretend to be nice to him!”

“You think you know me, malparido?” Fernando asked. Alma gasped. Mateo froze, feeling as though he had been thrown into the river during the dead of winter. His ears rang. He felt as though he had been slapped in the face. Fernando looked around, wilting for just a moment under everyone’s horrified stares. He straightened his back, an indigent expression on his face. “What? So he can call me an asshole but I can’t say anything back?”

Malparido . The word kept bouncing around in Mateo’s head, as loud as a drum and as heavy as a hammer. It hurt. He hated that it hurt, but it did nonetheless. It stabbed at his heart, stung at his eyes. He could feel the fight leave his body, all his righteous fury evaporate like water on a hot day. 

Malparido . It wasn’t the worst thing you could call someone. But it was the worst thing anyone could have called Mateo. It was the worst thing because it was true. He was born badly, and there wasn’t a person in the Ecanto who hadn’t heard the horrifying tale of Mateo’s birth.

Malparido . 

Malparido.

Malparido.

“I think you should go,” Pepa said quietly. It was already raining over her. Fernando had scooted away to avoid getting wet.

“What?” Fernando asked, appalled. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Pepa said after a moment of hesitation. “I don’t think things are going to work out between us.”

Fernando opened his mouth before shutting it. With a huff, he got up and stormed out. 

The silence that followed was so tense Mateo thought not even a machete would have been able to cut it. Pepa stood there, shaking underneath the rain that poured down on her. The sound of rain pounding against the roof rang clear. 

“Lo siento, Pepa,” Mateo said after several impossibly long moments of silence passed. “I didn’t mean to ruin things for you.”

“It’s fine,” Pepa said distantly. Even through the rain sheeting around her, it was impossible to miss the way her eyes watered. “It’s better off, honestly. I had heard people say that he was being mean to Bruno. I didn’t want to believe it. I kept thinking, he’s so nice, he wouldn’t -”

Pepa cut herself off, a sob escaping her. She bit down on her bottom lip harshly, before standing.

“I should go to my room,” She said. “You know, try to calm down before the weather gets any worse.”

She walked out of the room, leaving a trail of water behind her. Alma stood up, but she seemed hesitant to follow.

“Go to her, mamá,” Julieta said. “I’ll check on Bruno.”

“Gracias, mi vida,” Alma said, suddenly seeming relieved. She hurried out of the room, her long burgundy dress sweeping around her feet. 

“I should definitely go,” Mateo said. He ran a hand through his hair before sighing. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lose my temper like that, I just -”

“No, it’s okay,” Julieta said, standing up. “Really.”

“I just ruined -”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Julieta said. “They would have never worked out. It’s like Pepa said. We can’t date people who hate Bruno. He’s our brother. It makes me so mad that people blame him for every little thing that goes wrong. They act like he’s some sort of curse. It’s stupid. He can’t control the future - you know that right? He just predicts it, he can’t - he doesn’t make bad things happen.”

Julieta suddenly seemed nervous, as though she expected Mateo to argue with her. As though she expected him to suddenly criticize Bruno, or to reveal some secret hatred. Mateo couldn’t imagine how many times someone must have gained their trust, only to betray them like this. Everyone wanted a piece of the Madrigal women - their time, their help, their attention, and affection. No one wanted anything to do with Bruno. 

“I know,” Mateo said. “I never thought that about him.”

Julieta seemed relieved. She sighed. “Thank you for defending him. I should have done it myself, but . . . I don’t know why I didn’t. I guess I was surprised by Fernando. He genuinely seemed like a good guy.”

Mateo wanted to scoff. He wanted to point out how he always hated Fernando, how he always saw right through his little act. But he didn’t. Julieta had this horribly guilty expression, her eyes swimming with doubt as she wrung her hands. There was no point in making her feel worse.

“I’m not going to let people treat him like that and get away with it,” Mateo said. He meant it. Even if he didn’t plan on actually marrying Bruno, he couldn’t tolerate the idea of allowing anyone to treat him so horribly. “I’ll always defend him, okay?”

Julieta smiled, all watery and grateful and Mateo had the sudden urge to get out of there as quickly as possible. This moment was too vulnerable. Like they were growing closer, somehow. He didn’t like that.

“I should go,” He said. “Uh, keep the tres leches.”

“You sure?” Julieta asked. Mateo nodded.

“It was for Bruno, anyway,” He said. “Thanks for the food. It was delicious.”

He left before Julieta could say another word. He supposed Bruno and him were similar in that way - they were both runners. 

As he slipped out the front door and walked home in the pouring rain, mulling over the events that had just occurred - of the way he screamed and cursed in front of Señora Alma Madrigal - he had the sudden realization that his father was going to kill him.

Chapter Text

The heartbreak must have truly hit Pepa, because the storm grew more infinitely more violent as the sun rose. The wind blew at such an intense speed that Mateo was worried for the roof of their home. The rain came down so heavily it was near impossible to see out their windows. It thundered every few moments, lighting striking the ground several times a day. It lasted a week, leaving nobody able to leave their homes. It was something of a hurricane.

Mateo’s father pestered him with questions about what happened, or if he knew why Pepa was so upset. He was concerned about his student and about his son who did nothing but listlessly putter around the house, uninterested in doing anything - even reading. Mateo would simply shrug when his father began interrogating him, before slipping into his room and locking the door behind him.

He had no plans on telling his father what happened, resigned to letting him find out once the storm lessened its assault on the village and the rumor mill started up again. He couldn’t imagine a scenario where his father wouldn’t be totally furious with him, or worse yet - disappointed. His father had endless amounts of patience for him, but not even he would be able to tolerate Mateo acting so brashly and poor mannered while being a guest in someone else’s home. And what would he say if this caused the engagement to dissolve? Mateo shuddered at the thought each and every time. 

Agustín had asked why it mattered when the storm had lessened enough for people to safely escape their homes. 

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Agustín asked as they walked through the village square. They were sharing an umbrella, though their height difference meant that Mateo was still getting soaked. He didn’t complain, however. He had misplaced his and didn’t want to ask for another one. Money was a loose concept in the Encanto, favors and trades being much more preferable. He didn’t much like the idea of owing anyone anything. “Kinda solves your whole problem, ya know?”

“It doesn’t solve shit,” Mateo said. “ I need to be the one to break things off. If I don’t, then my dad’s always going to wonder what I did wrong.”

“Wouldn’t that be the same for Bruno, then?” Agustín asked. Mateo frowned. He hadn’t really thought about how that would affect Bruno. Guilt was sharp. It was a concept he was familiar with, though he never really got used to the stab. 

“I don’t think Señora Alma would really blame him, especially after seeing me lose my shit like that. I’m just the sick kid with a bad temper. She’ll probably be counting her blessings. Besides, it’s not like he wants to marry me,” He said. His frown deepened as he saw Agustín’s doubtful expression. “He doesn’t! The guy barely speaks to me, and when he does, he tries to get out of the conversation as quickly as he can! He just had a stupid vision, and things got way out of control. He’ll be happy when this whole shitshow is over with, trust me.”

“If you say so,” Agustín said. “It’s not like I’d know. I only ever spoke to him once, when he told me that I was allergic to bees. Turns out he was right. Hey, if all his visions come true then -.”

“Don’t,” Mateo said, cutting off Agustín. “He’s wrong this time, okay? It wouldn’t work, anyway. He wouldn’t be happy being married to me.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Agustín said. Mateo didn’t argue, even though he wanted to. He never quite understood what Agustín saw in him, but even he wasn’t stupid enough to convince his only friend he should hate him. “Anyway, at least one good thing came out of this. You finally told off Fernando. I hate that guy. He’s the worst.”

“I know right!” Mateo said as they walked up the steps of the school.

School during a storm was, of course, horrible. The constant rain would try to lull even avid students like Mateo into slumber. Each sentence Señora Diaz spoke was punctuated by one student or another yawning. She was, as Pepa said, entirely too strict. They couldn’t eat lunch outside, and she wouldn’t allow them to move around and sit with who they wanted. It didn’t stop most of the students from whispering to one another. Even Agustín had gotten roped into a conversation with the teenagers surrounding his desk. Mateo ate in silence. A couple of the students around him tried including him. His responses were short and blunt. It ruined the flow of conversation they had, so he let himself drift out of it. At one point, he had glanced over at Agustín to see him frowning deeply. Mateo arched an eyebrow, but didn’t dare try to call out to him. Señora Diaz was liberal with the punishments she dolled out, and he had no interest in staying after class and completing whatever tedious chore she’d give him.

Class dragged on, minutes stretching into hours. Mateo swore he’d go crazy by the end of it. He almost laughed aloud at the collective sigh of relief when Señora Diaz finally dismissed them. There was a flurry of books and paper being shoved into bags. A cacophony of chairs scraping against the floor filled the air as students rushed to get out of the classroom as soon as possible. Mateo was no different, not even waiting for Agustín as he slipped out of the classroom. He stood in the hallway as the students bustled around him, a good chunk of them not even hesitating to walk out into the rain. Agustín exited the classroom, stalking over to him with that same deep frown on his face.

“He called you what ?” Agustín hissed. 

“Shit,” Mateo groaned, his head falling back against the wall he had been leaning against. 

“I’m gonna kill him,” Agustín said. “I swear to God, when I see him next I’ll -”

“You’ll what?” Mateo asked, lifting his head. “Fight him? You’ll just end up hitting yourself . Again.”

“It was one time!” Agustín protested. “And as long as I get at least one good punch in, I don’t care if I lose. Who the hell does he think he is?” 

“How’d you even hear about that, huh?” Mateo asked.

“Julieta told Gloria Lopez all about what happened. Apparently, they’re really good friends and she’s Lupe’s older sister. She told Lupe everything and Lupe told her boyfriend Julio, who told Mario, who told Juan, who told Esperanza, who told me during lunch,” Agustín said. 

“We were literally only able to leave our houses this morning,” Mateo said. “What the hell is wrong with everyone? Do people do anything besides gossip?”

“No,” Agustín said, causing Mateo to snort. “Hey! Don’t try to change the subject!”

“It doesn’t matter what Fernando called me,” Mateo said. 

“It does!” Agustín insisted. “He knows .”

“Everyone knows everything about everyone, apparently,” Mateo said with a roll of the eyes. “It doesn’t matter. I’m over it.”

“Well, I just found out so I’m definitely not!” Agustín said. He began looking around the hallway. “Where is he, huh?”

“Don’t make things worse for me,” Mateo said. “Please.”

“If someone had insulted me like that, how would you feel? What would you do?” Agustín asked. Mateo didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. They both already knew the answer. Mateo wasn’t good at keeping his mouth when his temper got the better of him. 

“Mateo! Ven aquí!”

Mateo froze for a moment before looking over to where his name had been called. His father was sticking his head out of his classroom door, his reading glasses hanging off of his nose.

“Coming Pa,” Mateo called back. His father dipped back into his classroom. Mateo looked back over at Agustín. “I know it’ll be hard, but don’t do anything stupid, yeah?”

Agustín rolled his eyes. “I’ll wait here if that makes you feel better.”

“It does,” Mateo said before pushing himself off the wall. 

He walked over to his father’s classroom, swallowing hard as he entered. His father was sitting behind his desk, looking over some papers. Mateo said a quick prayer as he approached his father. If there was a God above, he’d have prevented his father from hearing about what happened. If his indoor lunches were anything like Señora Diaz’s, it shouldn’t have reached him yet. He knew his father was a much more lenient and understanding instructor, however. He doubted his father would have made his students stay quiet during their free time. He liked to befriend his students, make sure they were happy and comfortable. It wouldn’t have surprised Mateo if at least one of them would have lacked any sort of tact and felt comfortable enough to tell his father the juicy gossip they had just heard about his son. 

“Everything okay?” Mateo asked after a moment. His father looked up, a smile on his face.

“Si mijo,” His father said. “I was just hoping you could take Pepa’s makeup work to her. Julieta’s supposed to go give some arepas to a family who just caught a nasty cold, and I didn’t want to risk the papers getting wet.”

“She didn’t come to school?” Mateo asked, frowning. His father wore his own frown. He shook his head.“No. Whatever happened must have really upset her,” His father said. Mateo knew what he was getting at. His father played the long game with Mateo. He knew his son would never be upfront with information. Not immediately, anyway. So instead he waited. He pestered. He had a way of getting what he wanted out of his son eventually.

“It really must have,” Mateo said. His father gave him a blank look, before sighing and shaking his head. He handed him a thin stack of papers.

“Some of these are just the lessons from today. I wrote them down for her so she’d understand the work that goes with it,” His father said. “Please tell her not to rush. She doesn’t need to do it until she’s feeling up to it, okay?”

“That’s nice of you,” Mateo said, thinking of his own teacher. The last time he had fallen ill, she had lectured him for not having his makeup work done by the following day. When he had tried to tell her that his fever had made him delirious, she had simply said that was no excuse. 

“Eh,” His father said with a shrug. “I’d rather get it back dry. Anyway, get a move on. I need to finish grading these tests before heading to the library, okay? I’ll see you there. Te amo.”

“Te amo,” Mateo said before exiting the classroom. 

Agustín was waiting dutifully for him, just as he promised. The hallway had emptied out, not one student wanting to stay longer than necessary. They exited the schoolhouse to find the schoolyard empty. With the rain, there was no reason for anyone to stick around. It was mostly used as a play area for the younger children and a hang-out spot for the older ones. The ground had turned to mud, making the field uninviting. 

Mateo felt a sudden burst of disappointment as he realized Bruno wasn’t waiting for him. It was because that meant Alma had really called off their engagement and he was bound to have to deal with an extremely furious and disappointed father by tonight, he decided. It had nothing to do with anything else, and certainly wasn’t because he had actually begun to enjoy their little walks to the library. That would be ridiculous, and imply things he didn’t want to be implied.

Agustín and he began to walk down the street. Mateo explained why his father had called him over. Agustín told him he got lucky, before demanding Mateo retell the full story this time. He did so, not wanting to upset his best friend further. Outside of Agustín’s obvious anger, Mateo knew he was probably feeling a bit hurt Mateo hadn’t told him himself. They were brothers in every sense besides blood. There weren’t secrets between them.

Rain still fell around them, and every other step was a puddle. Mateo felt bad for anyone who wore sandals, though he wasn’t particularly pleased with the ways his shoes and socks squelched with each step. 

“Mateo!” A voice called out from behind them.

“You’re popular today, huh?” Agustín joked before looking back over his shoulder. Instantly, a dark look appeared on his face. “What the hell does he want?”

“Huh?” Mateo asked, frowning. He turned around to see Felix jogging up, his umbrella bouncing over his head. His eyes widened, before looking over at Agustín in a panic. He had told Agustín about Felix’s crush on Pepa and Bruno’s vision of their future marriage. Agustín was, as expected, ecstatic. Once the joy faded, however, he still remained firm in his distrust towards Felix. Mateo supposed a self-imagined feud was difficult to dissolve overnight. 

“Hombrecito!” Felix said as he approached. “I could kiss you!”

“Please don’t,” Mateo said. Felix still had that cartoonishly large grin on his face.

“I can’t believe you broke them up,” Felix said. “ And that you called that asshole an asshole! To his face! In front of Señora Alma, too! You got cojones, bro!”

“I don’t. I just . . . I didn’t like what he said to Bruno,” Mateo said. He wasn’t sure how much Julieta had told Gloria, though he doubted she would tell anyone about her brother’s moment of phobia-induced panic. She seemed protective over Bruno, and she didn’t seem stupid enough to believe that information wouldn’t get twisted around and used against him later on. 

“I told you Fernando was mean to him,” Felix said. “I can’t stand that guy. What he said to you was really fucked up.”

“Does everyone know about that?” Mateo groaned. 

“Basically,” Felix said. He looked over at Agustín, seemingly just noticing he was there. “Hey! You’re the guy with that huge crush on Julieta!”

“Does everyone know about that?” Agustín asked. He looked around with wide eyes, as though terrified any passerby might have overheard.

“Basically,” Felix said with a shrug. Agustín’s face fell. Felix waved his free hand dismissively. “It’s cool though. Gloria told her older brother Santiago that Julieta likes you too. He’s a buddy of mine. Pretty trustworthy. He wouldn’t say it if it’s not true. You should totally make your move, compadre.”

For a moment, Mateo thought Agustín was having a stroke. 

“Agustín,” Mateo said. “Breathe.”

“Julieta?” Agustín asked after a moment. Felix was staring at him with wide, concerned eyes. “Me? Like? Julieta? Julieta like me?”

“Shit Felix,” Mateo said. “I think you broke him.”

“Sorry hombrecito!” Felix said. “Compadre, calm down. Yeah, Santiago told me that Julieta had a crush on this tall skinny guy who’s clumsy as hell. Wasn’t hard to figure out who that was. No offense.”

“None taken,” Agustín said slowly. He looked down at Mateo. “You think she was talking about me, right?”

“Obviously,” Mateo said, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, she told me herself.”

“What?” Agustín shouted. Mateo cringed, realizing that probably wasn’t the smartest thing to say.

“She told me not to tell you!” Mateo said. Agustín glared at him.

“You’re the worst!” He yelled. “I’d push you into the rain if you didn’t have Pepa’s makeup work with you!”

“Oh!” Felix said. “Here, take my umbrella!”

“Huh?” Mateo asked. “What? Why?”

“Well, I figure you don’t have an umbrella and - again, no offense - you guys got like, a foot of difference between you. You’re half soaked, bro. I don’t want Pepa’s stuff getting ruined,” Felix said. 

“But then you’ll get wet,” Mateo said.

“Eh,” Felix said with a shrug. “It’s fine. I like the rain. Here, take it.”

Mateo relented, the thought of actually being able to keep himself dry far too tempting. He hopped under Felix’s umbrella before grabbing the handle. Felix stepped out, smiling even as the rain began to immediately drench him. It was as though Mateo could see Bruno’s vision himself. He recalled the way Fernando had scooted away from Pepa when it had begun to rain over her, desperate to avoid getting wet. Comparing that to Felix, who obviously didn’t give a damn, he had the thought that they might be a perfect match. 

Dios, Mateo thought. That was sappy as hell .

He looked up at Agustín. “I’m sorry. Don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not,” Agustín said, though he looked as though he only half meant it. “As your hermano, I have to accept everything about you and that includes your inability to betray the trust of anyone. Even if that vital piece of information would have made me the happiest man on Earth. But, it’s fine. Really.”

Mateo sighed. “Let me get this stuff to Pepa. Meet me at the library, and you can be mad at me then, okay?”

“Fine,” Agustín huffed.

“I’ll go with you!” Felix said. “We can go over our game plan!”

“Game plan?” Agustín asked.

“Yeah! We could all be cuñados, compadre! We gotta work together!” Felix said. Mateo bit his tongue, not wanting to point out how insane it was to be thinking of marriage at their ages while he was literally engaged. Agustín would never let him hear the end of it. “Obviously, I gotta give Pepa some time to mourn her relationship and move on. I don’t wanna bother her while she’s vulnerable. That wouldn’t be cool at all. But Julieta’s super nice, and she really likes you. You gotta strike while it’s hot! Can’t keep a girl waiting forever. Especially when that girl is Julieta Madrigal. She’s got a ton of suitors.”

That could have been the best or worst thing Felix could have said to Agustín. Mateo would decide on that later, depending on how whatever “game plan” they thought up played out. Agustín nodded furiously.

“Yeah, yeah,” He said. “You’re right. I gotta . . . I gotta . . . miercoles, I’m nauseous.”

“Okay,” Mateo said. “Well, that’s my cue to leave. Felix, he’s your problem until I get back. Have fun uh . . . working on your game plan I guess.”

“Hey, not everyone has their parents setting up their marriages for them,” Felix said good-naturedly. “Some of us actually have to put the effort in.”

Mateo didn’t know how to respond, so he didn’t. He turned around and began walking down the street, rolling his eyes as he heard Felix ask if they were really brothers. 

Idiots , he thought. They’re both idiots.

Love was such a stupid thing to get all worked up about. Mateo had figured that out a long time ago. It was such a humiliating thing, to be so taken with someone else. Nothing good came out of that. As far as he could tell, it only brought misery. His classmates were always panicking, whining, or crying over the new “love of their life”. Their town had just suffered from a week-long hurricane because of it. Mateo had crushes, sure. Two in his entire lifetime, to be exact. He had done what everyone else did. He had fantasized and dreamt and gotten himself worked into a tizzy. It was all a waste of time. A painful, embarrassing waste of time. He couldn’t talk to people. He couldn’t open up or connect. And when he did he . . . he didn’t like thinking about what happened when he actually tried. 

He had meant what he said earlier. He could never make Bruno happy. He, without any doubts attached, thought that Bruno deserved to be happy. It was better off that they didn’t get married. Bruno would thank him for it later.

He didn’t expect the doors to La Casa Madrigal to open for him, not after the last time he was there. Despite that, the doors swung open as he approached.

“Hola, Casita,” He said as he entered, closing the umbrella and carrying it by his side. He still had a bruise on the back of his ankle from the last time he hesitated. He wasn’t interested in getting another. The doors swung shut behind him. A tile flew up from the floor in front of him. “Is this you saying hi back? I don’t uh . . . understanding you is kinda hard, you know. It’s not your fault, obviously, but still. I’m still trying to figure it out.”

“It’s nice seeing someone else treat Casita so kindly,” Alma said as she exited the kitchen. Mateo jumped. She smiled apologetically. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“It’s fine,” Mateo said.

“Most people don’t talk to Casita at all,” Alma said. “And if they do, they just give it orders. Like it’s some sort of servant. It’s a nice surprise, seeing you talk to it. It likes you, you know. Casita doesn’t just allow anyone to enter as they please.”

“I’m glad?” Mateo asked. Alma chuckled lightly. Mateo hesitated for a moment, before sighing. “Señora, I’m so sorry about the other night. I didn’t mean to lose my temper like that or speak so rudely in front of you. I just . . . he did it on purpose. I know he did it on purpose. I know Fernando. He’s nice to most people but he can be cruel like that, sometimes. And I normally let it slide because it’s normally directed at me but . . . I don’t know. Seeing him treat someone else like that really got me mad, I guess.”

Alma didn’t answer for a moment. That moment felt like an eternity. It wasn’t just the looming threat of her calling off the engagement, but the fact that he knew he offended the woman who did so much for their village. Who did so much for him, when he was too weak to do anything at all for himself.

“You don’t need to apologize,” She said.

“I don’t?” He asked. She shook her head.

“No,” She said. “Not many people defend my son. I don’t always do a good job of it myself. Sometimes I worry I’m too hard on him. Other times I . . . I’m sorry. This isn’t something you need to worry about. It’s just that Bruno’s different, and people don’t always react kindly towards that. I don’t know if it’s the visions or if it’s him that makes people so upset. But it’s good to know that you are willing to defend him. I’d prefer it if you could do that with a little less cursing, though.”

Mateo chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. I can try. So uh . . . I guess that means we’re still engaged?”

“You were worried I was going to end your engagement?” Alma asked with a frown. “Dios, no! This is the happiest I’ve seen Brunito in a long time.”

Mateo didn’t answer, the question he wanted to ask caught in his throat. 

This was Bruno when he was happy?

A more frightening realization followed.

Bruno was happy .

That sharp guilty feeling returned. 

“Is there any particular reason you decided to stop by?” Alma asked once she realized Mateo wasn’t going to respond.

“Oh!” Mateo said, momentarily having forgotten completely about the actual reason for his visit. “Si, si. My dad sent Pepa’s makeup work. I uh . . . I’m sorry she’s still not feeling well.”

Alma sighed, that particular combination of love, concern, and irritation that only parents could have clear. “Yes, she’s still pretty torn up. She’s up in her room, if you don’t mind taking it to her.”

“Not at all,” Mateo said. He began to make his way towards the stairs.

“Mateo!” Alma called out. He paused, foot on the first step of the staircase. He glanced over at her. “I would just like you to know that I only speak so liberally with you because you’re going to be family. I would prefer it if you kept conversations like this to yourself.”

“Of course,” Mateo said, marveling at the fact that this was Alma Madrigal speaking liberally. He supposed that the two of them had some things in common as well. Alma gave him a soft smile before returning to the kitchen. 

Mateo climbed up the stairs, struggling to catch his breath as he reached the top of it. There weren’t many buildings in the Encanto that one could freely enter that possessed a staircase. A lot of the houses did, sure, but not Mateo’s. Apparently, their first one did, but upon seeing how weak Mateo was, his father had traded with a couple who already had three children and were expecting twins. They were more than happy to do so. Mateo always felt guilty about that. His father gave up yet another home, the last home he shared with his mother, for him. But upon feeling how tight his lungs felt after climbing one measly flight, all he could feel was grateful that this wasn’t a daily occurrence. He supposed his lungs hadn’t gotten as strong as he hoped they were. He rested against the railing for a moment, wishing desperately for some coffee, when he caught sight of someone.

“Bruno?” He called out before he could stop himself. Bruno froze, his shoulders hunched up to his ears. He turned around, slowly.

“Yeah?” Bruno asked. Mateo opened his mouth before realizing he had no idea what to say.

“Hi?” Mateo cringed. What the fuck was wrong with him?

Bruno tilted his head to the side, frowning. He took a few steps forward.

“Are you okay?” Bruno asked. “Your face is so red. Ah - that wasn’t - I mean you still look good - I mean you - no I should stand by that right? If I go back on that then I’d just be insulting you and that won’t work and I need to stop talking.”

“I’m fine,” Mateo said, choosing to ignore everything said after Bruno’s question. “Just catching my breath.”

“Catching your breath?” Bruno asked.

“Stairs,” Was all the explanation Mateo offered.

“You don’t like them?” Bruno asked, suddenly seeming nervous.

“Well, I don’t mind them,” Mateo said. “It’s my lungs that hate them.”

It was a joke. Mateo liked to think it was a funny joke. But Bruno looked stricken, and he had no idea as to why. 

“Are you okay?” Mateo asked. 

“Huh?” Bruno asked, startled. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why? Does something seem wrong with me?”

“It’s just that -” Mateo cut himself off. What he was going to say was not what he wanted to say. Bruno began to wilt and Mateo wanted to scream because of course Bruno was taking it the wrong way. He squeezed his eyes shut before continuing. “Youdidn’twaitformetoday.”

It came out rushed like it was all one word. There was silence, far too much silence for far too long, Mateo briefly considered throwing himself over the railing. When he opened his eyes once more, Bruno was staring at him. His ears had turned completely red.

“I didn’t think you’d care,” Bruno said, sounding thoroughly surprised. Mateo didn’t answer. There was no answer. He couldn’t say that he didn’t care. That would only hurt Bruno’s feelings. And he couldn’t say he did care, because . . . well, just because. Bruno shifted, pulling at the bottom of his shirt before playing with his fingers. Mateo noticed he was staring over his head again. “I just - I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Mateo asked, frowning. 

“For being a freak,” Bruno said. Mateo opened his mouth to protest, but Bruno kept talking. “Julieta told me what you did. After I left. And I was happy. Like, really happy because nobody besides my sisters ever . . . well, I was happy until she told me what Fernando said to you, and he wouldn’t have said that to you if I wasn’t so goddamn weird all the time because if I wasn’t, you’d have nothing to defend. And if you had nothing to defend, then he wouldn’t have called you that. So I’m sorry.”

Mateo couldn’t help the snort that escaped him. It would have been a full on laugh, but he just barely managed to hold that back. Bruno stared at him in confusion.

“Only you would find a way to blame yourself for what someone else said to me,” Mateo said with a shake of the head.

“But -”

“You aren’t a freak,” Mateo said, cutting Bruno off. Bruno stared at him suspiciously, as though Mateo would suddenly change his mind. “You aren’t. You’re just . . . quirky.”

“Quirky?” Bruno echoed, frowning to himself. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Yeah,” Mateo said. “It is. It means you’re interesting. You’re fine the way you are, okay? And don’t blame yourself for Fernando’s bullshit. Him and I have our own problems. I’m honestly surprised it took him so long to call me that.”

“Why do you guys have problems?” Bruno asked. He was still frowning, but it was different this time. It wasn’t out of confusion, or insecurity, or whatever. It was almost angry. Mateo’s eyes fell towards his shoes. 

“Doesn’t matter,” He said after a moment. He looked back up at Bruno. “It’s ancient history, really. Anyway, point is, it wasn’t your fault. Fernando chose to be a dick. I chose to defend you. None of it was your fault.”

“Ah,” Bruno said, looking at the wall. “Weird.”

“What is?”

“Hearing someone say it’s not my fault.” Bruno’s eyes widened, his head swiveling back to Mateo. “Sorry! That was weird! And heavy! Shit I’m sorry! You make me nervous.”

“You’ve told me,” Mateo said. “You uh . . . you make me nervous too."

“I’m used to that,” Bruno chuckled awkwardly. Mateo shook his head.

“Not cause of the vision thing. I don’t give a shit about that,” Mateo said. “I’m not stupid. I know you don’t make bad things happen or whatever it is that has people so stressed out. You just make me nervous. I don’t do well, talking to people. I don’t know if you’ve noticed.”

“No, not at all,” Bruno snorted, and Mateo rolled his eyes as he realized Bruno was throwing his line back in his face. Bruno hesitated for a moment before quietly saying “I’ll wait for tomorrow.”

Mateo knew responding with something kind was in order. Instead, all he said was “Cool.”

Bruno nodded, before backing up a step. “Okay. Cool. Cool. I’ll just uh . . . I’m gonna go.”

“Wait,” Mateo said. Bruno paused. Mateo pulled around his bookbag before digging into it. He fished out the thin stack of papers his father gave him. “Can you give this to Pepa? It’s makeup work. My dad said there’s no rush, so she can get to it when she feels better. And can you tell her I’m sorry again?”

Bruno nodded before grabbing the papers. The tips of their fingers brushed, for just a moment. Mateo’s stomach did a strange twist and he instantly yanked back his hand. He didn’t like that feeling. He didn’t know where it came from, but he definitely didn’t like it. Bruno seemed to have noticed their small bit of contact as well because the tips of his ears were turning red again.

“I need to go,” Mateo said suddenly. “To uh . . . library. My dad needs me at the library.”

Bruno nodded silently again, his ears almost entirely red. Mateo nodded back, jerky and awkward. He turned on his heel and practically ran down the stairs and out of the house. 

When he got to the library, Felix and Agustín were there. They hung around the library until closing, apparently having become fast friends in Mateo’s absence. He joined their conversation half-heartedly, his mind still recalling the way his stomach twisted when Bruno’s fingertips brushed against his. He hated it. 

His father found out about his argument with Fernando that night. After lecturing him for nearly an hour on manners, he spent another desperately trying to comfort his son over an insult that barely hurt anymore. 

“I’m sick of hearing about Fernando,” His father said once his lecture was finally done. Mateo was half slumped over in his chair at the dining room table, half bored and half exhausted. “If I had known he would have been there, I never would have allowed you to go. I don’t want to ever hear about you two saying a word to each other again, understood?”

“I don’t try to talk to him, Pa,” Mateo said. His father gave him a stern look.

“Understood?” He asked.

“Understood,” Mateo sighed.

The next day, the rain had lessened even further. It was still there, but it wasn’t nearly as heavy or oppressive. Pepa returned to school, a glum expression glued to her face and her hands constantly stroking her hair as she whispered some sort of chant to herself. Agustín was still desperately trying to work up the courage to ask out Julieta. Mateo spent the entire day encouraging him, but when class ended all he could manage was a “hi” and “you’re pretty!” before running away. And when Mateo found Bruno waiting for him as promised, he hid his hands within his pants pockets. He had decided, then and there, that being a teenager was the worst thing anyone could be. 

Chapter Text

The last time Mateo had gone into the jungle, he was seven and too stupid to understand that his body couldn’t manage feats such as walking long distances. He had followed a group of boys his age, desperate to join in on whatever rambunctiousness they planned on getting up to. His body had did what it always did - failed him. His chest tightened painfully, constricting his lungs and pushing out his breath in these horrifying wheezes. His muscles screamed, begging for relief. Embarrassingly enough, he had begun to cry. The boys were mad at him for slowing him down and left him as he sat, curled up under a tree struggling to breathe. One had stayed though. He was too tall for his age, his white skin littered with scratches and bruises. On his angular face sat a pair of cracked glasses. He sat beside Mateo, comforted him, held his hand as he got his breathing under control. Mateo never returned to the jungle after that. There was no need. He found everything he needed that day - his best friend. His hermano.

All that was to say, Mateo had no fucking clue as to why he allowed Bruno to drag him back into the jungle. Maybe it was the allure of the amazing thing Bruno had promised to show him. Maybe it was the way Bruno’s eyes were lit up with an excitement he rarely ever possessed. Maybe it was the giddy smile he was sure he’d receive when he said yes. Maybe it was because, foolishly, he had started to consider Bruno a friend.

Friend didn’t feel like the right descriptor. Mateo wasn’t sure why. It just didn’t seem to fit the way it should have. He had no plans on examining that further, however, so he left it at that. Bruno was his friend, and that was fine, even if it didn’t sound quite right when he thought it.

“Can we take a break?” Mateo asked suddenly, though he was already sitting down on a nearby rock. He clutched onto his knees, hoping that it would make the way they shook less noticeable. Bruno turned around, his expression melting into something so concerned that Mateo almost wanted to punch him.

“Are you okay?” Bruno asked, kneeling down beside him. He raised a hand, maybe to touch Mateo, but lowered it after a moment of hesitation.

Mateo nodded, before tapping his chest. Bruno had this horribly guilty expression on his face. Mateo waved his hand dismissively.

“It’s fine,” He said. “I’m fine. This is good for me.”

“It is?” Bruno asked, surprised.

“Yeah, when I was a kid my dad would make me go on walks to build up my stamina,” He said. “Plus, ya know, the air’s better or something, I don’t know.”

“Oh,” Bruno said. “Uh … why -”

“I was born like this,” Mateo said, cutting him off. He couldn’t bear hearing that question again. It made his skin feel tight every time someone worked up the courage to ask him why he was so sick all the damn time.

“Oh,” Bruno said again.

The silence that followed was awkward. It was just the sound of Mateo’s heavy breathing and the wildlife around them.

“What did you want to show me?” Mateo asked. The silence was too uncomfortable. It felt clunky and loud, somehow.

“It’s a surprise,” Bruno said, that excited look in his eye making its return. “We’re almost there actually.”

“We are?” Mateo asked, trying his best not to sound too eager. Needing breaks on such a short walk was already such a humiliating thing to grapple with. Bruno nodded, that rare but real smile on his face. Mateo liked that smile far better than the awkward, half assed ones he normally gave. Probably because Mateo making someone smile was a rare thing in and of itself. “Ok, let me get up.”

“Let me help you,” Bruno said, popping up. He was surprisingly agile. 

“No it’s - ” Mateo couldn’t finish his sentence. Bruno was already grabbing onto Mateo’s hands. 

He pulled him up with enough force that Mateo almost fell forward. His hands tightened around Bruno’s as he stumbled. It took him a moment before he caught his footing. As he stood up straight, he realized his hands were still wrapped around Bruno’s. That strange twist in his stomach returned, hard and sudden. Mateo yanked his hands away. Bruno’s smile became awkward again, and he turned around and began walking down the path again. Mateo flexed his hands as he followed, desperate for the tingling feeling in his fingertips to dissipate. 

After several more minutes, Bruno suddenly veered off the beaten path. Mateo followed, a quizzical expression on his face. Bruno was pushing his way through the brush, holding back branches and bushes so Mateo could pass through with ease. It was several more minutes of this when the sound of rushing water became clear. Mateo threw Bruno a curious look, but Bruno simply grinned at him before pressing on. Mateo shrugged to himself before continuing to follow. 

Suddenly, they entered a large clearing. In the center sat a crystalline pond, the water so clear Mateo could see straight through to the bottom. A thin waterfall poured into it, the ledge from which it fell standing no taller than Agustín would have. Some fish swam within the pond, though Mateo couldn’t discern one species from another. He wasn’t nearly as interested in the matter of fishing as Felix seemed to be. He kept trying to get Mateo to join his trips. Flowers, multicolored and varying in shape, sprouted from the grass beneath Mateo’s feet. Besides the pond sat a basket, with a large rag thrown over the top. A large bottle of juice, corked at the top, stuck out by the corner. It was miraculously untouched by any of the wildlife. 

“This is my hiding spot,” Bruno said as he walked forward, throwing his arms out on either side of him. “No one knows about it. At least, I don’t think they do. I’ve never seen anyone else here.”

“Wow,” Mateo said. “A hidden encanto in the hidden Encanto.”

“I never thought of it like that,” Bruno chuckled. He glanced around as he played with his fingers. “Do you uh . . . do you like it?”

“Yeah,” Mateo said while nodding. “I do.”

He meant it, too. The clearing was beautiful. It was serene. It felt like something he’d read about in one of the many novels in the library, one of those places that the narrator insisted was far too beautiful to be described by mere words. Bruno grinned before plopping down next to the basket. He patted the ground beside him. Mateo hesitated, before sitting on the other side of the basket.

“I brought snacks,” Bruno said as he began to pull out the contents of the basket. Fruits, arepas, empanadas, and pastelitos. 

“Just snacks?” Mateo asked, quirking an eyebrow. Bruno flushed.

“Well, I wasn’t sure what you’d be in the mood for,” He said as he finished unloading the basket. “I didn’t want you to be disappointed.”

“I’m not,” Mateo assured. He meant that as well. 

Bruno smiled at him, softly. His eyes had this soft look about them too. Suddenly, Mateo was struck by how romantic the entire thing was. It made his ears ring and his stomach do that strange twist again. His throat felt dry. Mateo grabbed the jug, yanked out the cork, and took a long swig. Bruno watched him curiously. 

“You okay?” He asked. Mateo nodded before setting down the jug.

“Yeah, just thirsty,” He said as his eyes fell onto the water. He didn’t find the food half as appetizing as he did before. His stomach kept flipping, like a piece of lechon being cooked on a spit.

“Ah, okay,” Bruno said. 

Mateo didn’t respond. No one said a word for several minutes, the only sound coming from the waterfall. Mateo stared at the way the water rippled and the fish swam to and fro before, eventually, his eyes drifted back over to Bruno. Bruno was staring at the water too, chewing nervously on his lip as he played with his fingers in his lap. His back was hunched over, his shoulders by his ears. Guilt exploded in Mateo’s chest. It was hard, being selfish. That was what he was learning. Bruno had gone through all of this effort to do something nice and Mateo was worrying about some underlying current of romance that probably wasn’t even there. 

“Tell me one of your stories,” Mateo said. Bruno looked over at him, startled. 

“What?” He asked.

“From your vision?” Mateo asked, feeling a little embarrassed to admit that he remembered something Bruno had told him weeks ago. “You know, the magic box with the little people inside? And they told uh . . . I can’t remember the name.”

“Telenovelas!” Bruno cried out. “Yeah! It was so cool! They told all these super awesome, dramatic stories with the television! It was like books, but better!”

“I don’t know about that,” Mateo said, finding it difficult to believe there could be anything better than a book. “But you said that sometimes you came up with your own stories. Like the ones they told on the . . . you said it was a television?”

Bruno nodded, but his ears were beginning to turn pink at the tips. “Yeah, I do. But they’re probably awful! And I don’t have my rats, so . . .”

“Rats?” Mateo asked, frowning. “Why would you need rats?”

Bruno froze. His eyes fell to his lap. “You’re going to think I’m insane.”

“I already do,” Mateo said. Bruno rolled his eyes, before sighing.

“I have a few rats as pets. I use them to act out the stories,” He admitted quietly. Mateo paused as he processed what Bruno had just said.

“So the rats are . . . actors?” He asked after a moment. Bruno nodded, eyes still on his lap. “Jesus, it must have taken forever to train them.”

Bruno looked up, frowning in confusion. “Huh?”

“Well, Agustín’s dog’s a little shit and he’s been trying to train him for years, so I can’t imagine it’s easy to train rats of all things - though, they are pretty food driven, so it might be. Actually, you know what? I change my mind. I think I read once that they’re really intelligent, and that combined with the food thing must make training them easy. I just can’t imagine keeping track of rats, but I guess if you pay attention you can tell the difference. Do they have names?”

Bruno stared at Mateo, green eyes wide and jaw ajar. Mateo frowned.

“What?” He asked. “Is there something wrong?”

“You . . . you don’t care?” Bruno asked slowly. “You don’t care that I have pet rats?”

“Why would I?” Mateo asked. 

“It’s weird?” Bruno supplied nervously. 

“Not really,” Mateo said with a shrug. “I mean, Señor Martinez has a bird as a pet and no one says anything about that.”

“What’s wrong with birds?”

“They’re mouths are basically knives. It’s fucked up. Rats are way better than that.”

“I use them as actors in my stories,” Bruno said slowly. He was frowning, as though confused that Mateo wasn’t judging him.

“And Señor Martinez teaches his bird curse words,” Mateo said dryly. Bruno gaped at him, before shaking his head slowly.

“You’re so weird.”

“What? Why?”

“I tell you I have pet rats and I use them as actors in stories I make up and you not only act like that’s normal, but you use it as an opportunity to shit on birds,” Bruno said. “I just . . . I don’t understand.”

“Bruno,” Mateo said. “You’re weird. Is that what you want me to say? That you’re weird? Because you are. I just . . . I don’t really care, I guess.”

“You don’t?”

“No. I like it. It’s interesting. You’re interesting.”

Bruno flushed, eyes falling down to his lap again. Mateo couldn’t help but notice the way the corners of his mouth were tugging upwards, creating this soft, shy smile. It made his heart do this weird thing, like it was doing a backflip in his chest. He hated the way it felt. He hated that it happened at all. He hated that he didn’t understand why it happened. He didn’t understand any of it. Why his stomach twisted and his heart flipped and his fingers tingled. He hated that he didn’t understand any of it, but in the end, he didn’t want to understand. It was better, leaving things alone sometimes. He remembered once when he was a child, his father had forbidden him from reading a book he randomly picked up. He read it anyway, in the dead of night while his father was asleep. He had nightmares for weeks, terrified of the ghost story he had just indulged in. He thought this was sort of like that. If he looked too deep into it, he’d find out things he had no business knowing about.

“Tell me one of your stories,” Mateo said again. “Please.”

“Okay,” Bruno said after a moment. “But it won’t be as good without my rats.”

Mateo laughed, before flopping down onto his back. The grass beneath him was soft. It tickled at the back of his neck. Bruno laid down as well, beginning his story. Mateo listened intently. Bruno was a vivid storyteller. He used different voices for the various characters. He detailed the settings intensely. His hands waved around above him as he spoke. 

“There are too many characters,” Mateo said at one point. He was propped up on his elbows, looking over at Bruno. “And too many plot twists.”

“That’s the point!” Bruno protested. 

“Okay, sure, but it just doesn’t make sense. How does Maria have an evil twin and not know about it? And then she gets amnesia and is fooled into believing she’s the evil twin? So they switch identities? And no one realizes except her fiance? If the twin is so evil and Maria is so good, why wouldn’t anyone notice? Especially their mother?”

“Mom’s suck sometimes,” Bruno said. There was this sort of intensity about him, as though he truly believed the words he spoke. Mateo thought, for a moment, that he should ask about that. He decided against it, however. It wasn’t any of his business, how Bruno felt about that sort of thing.

“Okay, sure,” Mateo agreed. “Sometimes mom sucks. But the fiance! He’s the one who really sucks! He knows Maria is being forced to live another life but he doesn’t say anything because he actually falls in love with the evil twin? Why would anyone want to marry the evil twin?”

“People say I’m the evil twin,” Bruno said. He froze, before flying up into a sitting position. “Shit, I’m sorry. That was so - it was weird. I’m sorry. I -”

“It’s okay,” Mateo said. “But you aren’t evil. I mean, especially if we’re going by your storytelling logic. It’d be too obvious.”

“Then who would be the evil twin?” 

“Julieta. Now that would be a plot twist. The super polite twin with healing abilities is the evil one? No one would see it coming.”

“You’re right,” Bruno said, nodding. “Do you mind if I use that? For one of my telenovelas?”

“Sure,” Mateo said with a shrug. 

Bruno smiled gratefully, but before either of them could say anything else, thunder boomed. They both looked up with a frown. Dark, grey clouds began rolling in, much faster than they normally would. They covered up the sun, casting everything in shadows. 

“Shit,” Bruno said. “Pepa’s upset. We should head back before the storm starts.”

They both scrambled to repack the basket. Most of the food was left untouched, Bruno being far too invested in his storytelling to eat and Mateo being far too invested in listening. 

They moved through the jungle as quickly as Mateo’s body would allow, which wasn’t nearly fast enough. Fat blobs of raindrops fell down from the sky, hitting them through the gaps in the leaves-covered tree branches they walked under. There was something fun about trying to escape the rain, even if the rain was already coming down on them. Bruno and Mateo kept looking over at each other and laughing. Mateo thought it was probably the adrenaline of it all that kept him going without needing a break. It didn’t last, however, and as they burst through the edge of the jungle Mateo could feel it catching up on him. They passed the Madrigal house first, and though part of him wanted to go home and get dry, he accepted Bruno’s offer to step inside and sit down for a moment. 

Bruno dropped off the basket in the kitchen before leading Mateo to the sitting room. It was a cozy little thing, with a large couch and a couple of comfy looking chairs. In the center was a wooden coffee table, and a fireplace had been built into the wall. Bruno flopped down into one of the armchairs, slouched lowly. Mateo hesitated before sitting as well. He felt bad. He was drenched. But his body ached and his chest felt far too tight to continue standing around. They didn’t speak for several minutes, Mateo focusing on his breathing.

“I liked your story, by the way,” Mateo said finally. Bruno looked at him in surprise.

“You did?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Mateo said. “I stand by what I said, though. There were too many characters. I mean, what was the whole thing with Sofia and Sebastian? How was that relevant?”

“It’s called a subplot,” Bruno said.

“I know what a subplot is,” Mateo huffed. “I work in a library.”

Bruno opened his mouth to respond, but before he could Pepa stormed in. Mateo felt a surge of pity run through him. It was clear Pepa had put a lot of effort into her appearance that day. Her curls, which had several golden bows tied into it, were drenched. They clung to her face and body. Her eye makeup was running down her face, though judging by the multitude of colors, Mateo could tell she had spent quite a bit of time on it. And her pretty dress, a combination of gold and red with intricate patterns sewn into it, was soaked through. It hung off her body limply. A dark cloud still hung over her head. It drizzled over her. She stood at the edge of the room, arms crossed in front of her chest.

“I’m going to kill you, Tonto,” Pepa hissed. “This is entire day has been horrible and it’s your fault.”

“What did I do now?” Bruno sighed. He seemed resigned. Defeated, almost. Mateo frowned.

“Mamá has been trying to plan our birthday party all day, but because no one could find you we couldn’t get anything done. She got into this horrible mood because ‘we were wasting all our time on nothing’ so she sent me to go check on the farmers and guess what? They needed rain! I spent all morning on my makeup for nothing ! Then, when I was heading back, I saw Agustín asking Julieta out -”

“Wait what?” Mateo asked, eyes widening. “He did?”

Pepa rolled her eyes. “Yeah. The pendejo broke his nose or something and while getting an arepa from Julieta, he screamed ‘please be my girlfriend’ before running away. But then he tripped and broke his nose again.”

“Oh my God,” Mateo groaned, dropping his face into his hands.

“She said yes while she was helping him up,” Pepa continued. Mateo’s head shot up, a grin already spreading across his face. “I thought it was super sweet, but then I realized I was going to be the only one without a date at our birthday party so now I hate all of you.”

“Who’s Bruno’s date?” Mateo asked. Pepa stared at him incredulously.

“Are you serious?” She asked. “You. You’re Bruno’s date. Bruno has a date, Julieta has a date, and I’m going to be the only one without a date! It’s so humiliating!”

Mateo thought, for a moment, he was going to vomit. He could feel what little he ate at the pond rising in his throat. The triplets’ birthday parties were always something of an event. The entire town would cram into their house and stay there far longer than any party should conceivably go on. All eyes were on them, and as of recent years, whoever Julieta and Pepa had agreed to go out with. Bruno, as far as Mateo was aware, never had anyone by his side. Mateo couldn’t be certain, however. He usually spent the night avoiding people and trying to steal drinks from the bar with Agustín. Casita always managed to catch them in the act, however. He didn’t - he couldn’t go to their party this year. There would be no time to try and steal liquor with everyone staring him down. He wasn’t just a date. He was Bruno’s date. He wasn’t the most popular of the triplets, but he was the most infamous, and that made the situation impossibly worse. Rarely anyone gave him the time of day anymore, unless it was to berate him over something that wasn’t even his fault. But Mateo knew his neighbors. He knew the community he lived in. The fact that Bruno, of all the Madrigal children, was engaged first had sent shockwaves throughout the village. Everytime they were within five feet of each other, all eyes were on them. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would be like on a day when Bruno was actually meant to be the center of attention. He couldn’t - he was going to vomit. He was sure of it. 

“Are you okay?” Pepa asked, frowning curiously. The rain had stopped falling over her.

“Yeah,” Mateo said, though he was well aware he spoke too quickly for it to give anyone any reassurances. He began to get up, his legs shaking beneath him. “I’m - I’m fine. I just . . . I have to go. To Agustín. Uh, you know. Ask him about everything. I’m sure he’s dying to tell me. I should uh . . . you guys have to plan your party anyway.”

“Mateo -”

“Bye,” He said, cutting Bruno off. He swiftly exited the sitting room, calling out a goodbye to Casita before practically running out the door.

He didn’t go to Agustín, as he said he would. He went straight home, ripping off his still drying clothes with shaking hands as soon as he entered his room. He immediately collapsed onto his bed, curling into a ball. He could feel his heart thrumming in every part of his body. Even his finger tips pulsated. His head hurt. His stomach still churned. He felt as though he could barely breathe, though he knew it wasn’t the asthma getting to him this time. He wondered, for a moment, why he was stupid enough to forget why he couldn’t marry Bruno. 

Bruno was nice. Bruno was funny, and sweet, and interesting. He had a good smile, and soft hands, and came up with admittedly great stories. He was a friend. A fun friend. A good friend. A friend who brought far too much attention. Mateo swore that sometimes he could physically feel the attention. It felt like a hand around his neck. He squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to sleep. He prayed that when he woke up, his entire engagement would have just been one long, tortuous dream. 

Chapter Text

His father believed absolutely none of his excuses as to why he couldn’t go to the triplets birthday party. It was a little embarrassing, how easily his father saw through him. Everytime Mateo insisted he was sick, or that his asthma was acting up, his father would merely stare at him in disbelief before asking if had figured out what gifts to get them or what he was going to wear. Mateo knew it was childish, but he was almost on the verge of throwing a tantrum. He would have, if he thought it would have swayed his father. He knew it would have merely served to anger him, however, so he swallowed all his anxiety and frustration and focused on what his father insisted he focus on. 

Agustín, for what it was worth, was ecstatic. He was thrumming with excitement over the chance to fully show off that he, of all people, had managed to convince Julieta Madrigal that he was worth a chance. At least, that was what Mateo had gathered in the few moments he could actually talk to Agustín. Between school and his newfound girlfriend, his best friend’s time was entirely taken up. 

Which was fine. Mateo had expected that to happen. In fact, he was happy it had happened. Agustín was happier than he had ever seen him, and if he was meant to witness it from a distance, so be it. He wasn’t that selfish. He liked to think he wasn’t that selfish. Still, it was strange - no, different. And different wasn’t bad. Different could be good. Like Bruno. Bruno was different and it wasn’t a bad thing, no matter what anyone said. Bruno was, of course, the unwitting source of nearly all his stress and anxiety, but still. He was a good different. A different good. A good - Mateo was pretty sure he was going crazy. 

The week leading up to the party moved at the speed of a baby crawling for the first time. Each day felt sluggish and clumsy. Everyone was in a frenzy, preparing for the day their heroes had been born. Even Bruno, who was normally nothing more than a pariah, was held in the highest of regards. Even the depths of fear and resentment could not outdo the joy of a birthday. Agustín was busy with Julieta and trying to find the perfect gift for her. The triplets were busy planning their party. Bruno would still walk him to the library, but disappear within moments to go help his sisters. It was like when they first started talking to each other. Mateo tried not to let it bother him. Felix was busy as well, working on his game plan apparently. Mateo had not-so-subtly mentioned the fact that Pepa was upset over not having a date, and Felix had deemed the party the perfect chance to sweep her off her feet. Mateo had no idea why he didn’t just ask her out beforehand, but when he said that, Felix had just told him he didn’t understand women at all. Which, yeah. Obviously. He was a friendless, motherless, gay sixteen-year-old. He didn’t exactly spend much of his time thinking about women. 

What he did spend most of his time thinking about was what to get Bruno for his birthday. It was because his father kept asking what he planned on giving him. If he hadn’t, Mateo was sure he wouldn’t have given it much thought at all. By the time the day actually rolled around, Mateo liked to think he had found something that Bruno would like. He hoped so, anyway. 

His father had dragged him to the Madrigal house early to help decorate. Upon arrival, however, Mateo found that there was nothing for him to do. Many of Alma’s friends and admirers had arrived well before them, taking on the preparation duties of the party like little soldiers. His father joined them, joining in on a conversation with ease as he began to help set up a grill. Mateo turned and started towards the kitchen, only to pause when he noticed that Julieta and Agustín were giggling to themselves as she decorated a cake. He turned back around, not wanting to interrupt. He watched as his father made the two men beside him laugh boisterously. Not for the first time, he felt jealous. He often thought that was the most pathetic thing about him, and he was in no shortage of pathetic traits. What kind of teenage boy was jealous of their own father?

“Hey.”

Mateo turned to find Bruno standing beside him. He had dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. His tan skin looked a bit gray.

“You look like shit,” He couldn’t help but say. He cringed. Before he could apologize, however, Bruno chuckled. It was weak and exhausted.

“Yeah,” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Lots of visions last night.”

“What do you mean?” Mateo asked. He had never actually seen Bruno have a vision, but from what he had heard, it was always a sight to behold. Incense and domes of flying green sand. Floating images and glowing tablets. Some described it as terrifying. Felix, who had apparently attended his older sister’s vision, said it was the coolest thing he had ever seen.

“I can’t always control them,” Bruno said, as though he were reading Mateo’s mind. “And when I can’t, it’s not the big show everyone expects. Anyway, they kept happening last night. I couldn’t sleep.” 

“I’m sorry,” Mateo said. “Maybe you should go lay down, before the party starts.”

“No, it’s okay,” Bruno said. “Here, let me take those from you.”

Before Mateo could respond, Bruno took the three packages out of his hand. He began walking over to a long table against the wall. Several presents already sat atop of them. Mateo followed, feeling far too awkward to just stand around. He was on edge. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a man nudge his father before jutting his chin in their direction. His father grinned before saying something. Mateo tugged at his shirt collar, his neck suddenly feeling hot. 

“Which one’s mine?” Bruno asked as he set down the gifts.

“That one,” Mateo said, pointing at a brown box with a green bow wrapped around it. Bruno immediately began to open it. “Aren’t you supposed to wait?”

“It’s my birthday. I can do whatever I want,” Bruno said with a conspiratory grin. Mateo rolled his eyes but didn’t protest any further. Bruno finished opening the present, pulling out a long green ruana. A pattern of hour glasses were sewn into it. Bruno stared at it for far longer than Mateo would have liked. He shifted from foot to foot, waiting for a response. 

“Do . . . do you like it?” Mateo asked. Bruno didn’t respond. He just immediately pulled it over his head. It hung loosely over him, almost like he were wearing a sheet. It reached the middle of his calves. Mateo groaned. “Fuck. I knew it was too big.”

Bruno shook his head, his loose curls flying wildly around him. “No, no. It’s perfect.”

“But -”

“I love it,” He said, clutching the cloth in his hands protectively. It was as though he were afraid Mateo was going to ask for it back. “It’s perfect. Where did you find it?”

“I asked Lydia Guzman to make it.”

“Jesus Mateo,” Bruno said. “She’s so - what kind of favor do you owe her?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Mateo said.

“But -”

“Don’t worry about it,” Mateo repeated. Bruno fell silent. In truth, Mateo went to a lot of trouble to convince Lydia to make it. She was the best seamstress in the Encanto, which was especially remarkable given the fact that she was a year younger than Mateo. She was well aware of her talent, however, and used it to her advantage. Getting her to sew something was a pain in the ass. Mateo had to do her next three essays, four math assignments, and make her her own copy of her favorite book. Still, he couldn’t help but feel like he somehow got the better end of the deal as he watched Bruno admire the ruana with wide eyes and a cheek aching grin. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it,” Bruno repeated reverently, his eyes never leaving the ruana.

Mateo didn’t respond. He looked back over at his father. He was talking with Alma and Mariana Guzman, Lydia’s mother. Lydia was there as well, talking with a few of her friends. Every so often they would glance over at them before saying something else. It struck Mateo how many more people had filtered into the house. He glanced around, realizing that the decorating was all but done. That familiar feeling of anxiety began to prickle at his skin. He swallowed, hard. His hands curled into fists by his side as he dug his blunt nails into his palms as hard as he could. He looked back over at Bruno, who was still admiring his ruana.

“Can I ask you something?” He asked. Bruno looked up, before nodding.

“Yeah, yeah. Go for it,” He said. “Unless it’s for a vision. Then the answer’s no.”

“I wasn’t - wait why can’t I have a vision?” Mateo asked. It wasn’t as though he wanted one. He had no interest in knowing the future. He had a feeling it wasn’t going to be filled with good fortune and blessings, as so many people hoped. But the fact that Bruno was preemptively refusing him one irked him. 

Bruno shifted around, eyes falling to the floor as he hugged his lanky frame.

“If I show you a vision and it’s not good, you’ll just be mad. And it’s never good, alright? It’s always something shitty and I don’t want you to . . . it’s not a good idea, okay? When I have visions, bad things happen. And when bad things happen, people blame me, and then they hate me.”

Mateo wanted to tell Bruno that nothing that happened in the future could ever be his fault. He wanted to tell him that the people who blamed him for the bad stuff that happened to them were stupid. That they lacked common sense. He wanted to tell him to stop being so hard on himself, to give him some words of encouragement.

Instead, he said, “I could never hate you.”

Bruno froze. The tips of his ears began to turn red. Mateo bit his lip, wondering why his mouth even bothered moving when it was just going to say things he didn’t approve of. 

“Anyway, that’s not what I was going to ask you,” Mateo said, desperate to make the moment feel less tender than it did. There was no room for tenderness between them.

“What were you going to ask me then?”

“How do you . . .” Mateo trailed off, suddenly feeling incredibly embarrassed. Bruno looked at him expectantly. He sighed. “How do you deal with all of this? Like, the attention and stuff. I don’t - I’m not good at this. I don’t like it.”

Bruno paused, cocking his head to the side. “Is that why you’ve been so weird this week?”

“What?” Mateo asked. “I haven’t been weird!”

“Sure,” Bruno scoffed. Mateo glared at him, though it lacked any real heat. “I asked you if there was anything in particular you wanted to eat at the party and you said ‘what party’. And then when I said ‘my birthday party’, you said ‘I don’t eat food’, and walked away.”

“Okay, thank you for that vivid retelling of events, Señor Telenovela,” Mateo grumbled. Bruno smiled at him. “Can you just tell me? It’s not like you enjoy all the attention any more than I do.”

“Oh, I love attention,” Bruno said. “I just hate bad attention. Unfortunately, I’m Bruno, so . . . anyway I - actually, you’re going to think I’m crazy.”

“How many times do we have to go over this?” Mateo asked. “I already think you’re crazy.”

“Ha, funny,” Bruno said sarcastically. He paused for a moment, before groaning. “You can’t judge me.”

“I won’t,” Mateo assured. Bruno regarded him with momentary suspicion before nodding. He leaned in, as though he were about to divulge important, life changing information.

“I pretend I’m someone else,” He whispered. “Specifically, a guy named Hernando.”

“Hernando?”

“He’s a lot more confident than I am.”

Mateo paused, the idea tossing and turning over in his head. His silence served to make Bruno nervous, however. He pulled back as he began to fiddle with my fingers.

“I told you you’d -”

“That’s genius,” Mateo said suddenly. Bruno froze.

“Huh?” Bruno asked, eyes widening cartoonishly. 

“It’s genius,” Mateo repeated. “Okay, you’ll be Hernando. Who should I be?”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t think it’s weird?”

“I mean, yeah, obviously,” Mateo said. “But the idea of talking to people or having them look at me or remember I exist makes me want to drown myself in the river. So I’ll do anything.” 

“You know,” Bruno said. “Sometimes I think you’re weirder than I am.”

“Definitely not,” Mateo said, shaking his head. “Anyway, who should I be?”

“Jorge,” Bruno said after a moment of thinking.

“Okay -”

“He’s really good with his hands,” Bruno continued. “Like, a real man's man. Someone who could work in the smithy with Felix’s family. Or help build houses. Yeah, I like that. He’s a total construction guy. And -”

“I don’t need a whole character to go with it,” Mateo interrupted. Bruno gave him a confused look.

“You don’t understand acting at all, do you?”

Mateo couldn’t help but laugh. Bruno stared at him as though he couldn’t understand what was so funny before shrugging. Eventually, more people began to enter Casita. They kept walking up to the pair, wishing Bruno a happy birthday and - much to Mateo’s utter shock and mild horror - congratulating the both of them on their engagement. It was as though some sort of dam had broken. The joy of a celebration had somehow convinced them that this was a topic now open for discussion, not just some gossip fodder. Some would even ask them questions - about how they met, or if they were happy and excited. Bruno and Mateo always gave stammered responses with matching blushes. 

Pretending to be Jorge made things a bit easier, however. Jorge wasn’t scared of talking to people. Jorge didn’t mind the stares and attention. And Jorge definitely wasn’t disappointed by the fact that his father seemed to be standing in guard of the bar with a few of the other men. Mateo was going to die of old age before tasting alcohol. He was sure of it. He supposed it didn’t matter, however, as his partner in crime was far too busy to do things like failing at liquor theft. He was dancing with Julieta, each of them beaming with joy. For as clumsy as Agustín was, he certainly was a graceful dancer. 

“Do you . . .” Bruno trailed off. “Do you want to dance?”

“What?” Mateo asked, his nose scrunching up. “No.”

“You’re not just saying that cause you don’t wanna dance with me, right?” Bruno asked nervously.

“No, I just don’t wanna dance right now,” Mateo said, wishing he wasn’t so obvious sometimes. He didn’t hate dancing. He actually liked it, sometimes - though that always seemed to surprise people. And he didn’t hate the idea of dancing with Bruno. But he knew if he did, everyone would be watching and no matter how much he pretended he was Jorge, he wasn’t sure if he’d actually manage to avoid having a panic attack.

“Oh thank God,” Bruno sighed in relief. “Pepa told me I had to ask, but honestly I’m a terrible dancer. Two left feet. Plus, I’m exhausted.”

“Go get some cafe,” Mateo ordered. “You can’t fall asleep at your own party.”

Bruno nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I’ll be back.”

He watched as Bruno disappeared into the crowd, probably heading in the direction of the kitchen. He half wished he offered to go with him. There was nothing worse than standing alone at a party. 

You’re Jorge, He thought. And Jorge wouldn’t be scared of standing alone at a party. Because he’s a construction worker. And apparently construction workers are very confident - okay what the fuck was Bruno even talking about? Why’d Jorge have to be a construction worker? What does that have to do with being confident? 

His eyes drifted over to the dance floor as he played with the hem of his shirt. He watched with a slowly growing smile as Felix walked up to Pepa and held out his hand. A few people shouted in surprise as wind began to blow around her, tossing her hair and dress about her as she stared at his extended hand. But then she smiled, and took it. The wind seemed to fade, and a rainbow appeared over her head as Felix led her to the dance floor. He watched as he twirled her around, her head falling back as her entire body shook with laughter. It was sweet. Almost sickeningly so. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Fernando. A deep frown was on his handsome face. He turned and walked away. 

Concern. That was what Mateo felt and he hated himself for it. It didn’t stop his feet from moving, carrying him around the dance floor as he made his way through the crowd. His head turned from side to side as he searched for Fernando, until his eyes landed on an opened back door. It was tucked away by the staircase. Mateo cursed under his breath before exiting. 

It was dark. The only light came from the moon and the glow of the windows. The door shut behind him, muffling the noise of music and chatter. The garden was empty, void of anyone beside the two of them. Fernando had his back to him, his head hanging low as he kicked a rock angrily.

“You okay?” Mateo asked as he approached. Fernando froze, before turning around. He glared at Mateo.

“Obviously,” He snapped.

“You don’t seem okay,” Mateo said. He wasn’t sure why he was even bothering. Maybe, underneath all the anger and hurt, he still cared about the pendejo. Not that he’d ever say those words aloud.

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” Fernando asked, arching an eyebrow. He was standing taller, with a haughty attitude about him. Mateo suppressed an eyeroll.

“Because Felix just asked your ex girlfriend to dance with him, and she said yes,” He said.

“I don’t care about that,” Fernando said. “I don’t care about her anymore. I’m over it.”

“Clearly,” Mateo said dryly. Fernando’s glare returned. “I don’t know why you cared in the first place, though.”

“Excuse me?” Fernando hissed. Mateo swallowed, hard. He really wasn’t sure why he was doing this. 

“You know what I mean,” Mateo said.

“I don’t,” Fernando insisted. Mateo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He looked back up after a moment.

“Why do you have to make everything so difficult?” He asked. Fernando gaped at him for a moment before scoffing.

“You got a lot of nerve saying that to me,” He said. “I’m not the one that made shit difficult.”

“Oh you have to be fucking kidding me,” Mateo said. “You’re such a - actually. No. I’m not doing this. Fuck me for trying to be nice to you. My mistake.”

“Yeah, it was your mistake,” Fernando said. “What, you think because we used to be friends you can pretend like we still are?”

“Whatever,” Mateo said, turning around. He began walking back to the door. “I don’t give a shit. I’ll leave you alone.”

“Oh thank God,” Fernando said, exaggerating his relief. “Go bother Agustín - oh wait, he’s too busy for you now. I forgot.”

Mateo froze, hand on the doorknob. He knew he shouldn’t have engaged. Really, he did. Fernando would do anything to bait him into an argument. He would say anything, no matter how cruel or untrue. He simply enjoyed pushing Mateo’s buttons, perpetually punishing him for something that wasn’t even his fault. It didn’t stop Mateo from whipping around and marching back over to Fernando. He stared down at him with a bored expression, though Mateo couldn’t miss the pleased look in his eye.

“Oh, did that hurt your feelings?” Fernando asked, his tone soaked with sickly sweet, mock concern. Mateo glared up at him.

“Why do you always have to be such a dick?” He asked.

“How am I a dick for pointing out the truth? Agustín’s too busy for you - honestly, it’s probably a good thing. You always did hold him back. He could be really popular, but nobody ever wants to talk to him cause they know they’ll have to deal with you and your asshole attitude.”

Mateo froze. Fernando grinned. It was wolfish and predatory, his eyes lit up with cruel amusement. 

“Shut up,” Mateo hissed. 

“You really have to stop getting mad at me for telling the truth,” Fernando said.

“You think you know everything?” Mateo asked.

“I know that now that he has Julieta, he has a good enough excuse to ditch your sorry ass.”

“He’s not -”

“If you really gave a shit about your ‘friend’,” Fernando said, throwing up air quotes. “You’d leave him alone. Don’t you think you’ve held him back long enough? Or are you really that selfish?”

“You don’t know me,” Mateo insisted, but his voice came out weak and stilted. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth. His saliva felt thick, his throat narrow.

“That’s the thing,” Fernando said. “I do know you. And I know Agustín. Everybody loves him. I don’t blame them. He’s nice, funny, good looking. Really, he’s a great guy. I also know that everyone hates you. Or at least, they’re weirded out by you. I don’t blame them either. All you do is walk around with your nose in a stupid book, ignoring everyone and everything around you. Whenever anyone does actually try to talk to you, you sit there and roll your eyes and give these sarcastic little responses. You can be a real dick like that. Everyone always wonders how he puts up with you, but I keep telling them he just feels sorry for you. They say he follows you around, but they got it the wrong way around. You’re like a leech. He was nice to you one time when you were kids and you never let go, and now he feels obligated to put up with your bullshit. But thankfully, he’s got Julieta now and he has a good enough excuse to finally leave you behind.”

Mateo stared at the ground, unable to answer. Every word felt lodged in his throat, trapped and desperately trying to claw its way out. His hands shook by his side. His eyes burned. He knew, if he looked up, he’d see Fernando looking down at him with that crooked smirk of his. The thing he hated the most about Fernando, he thought, was that he always knew exactly what to say to hit Mateo where it hurt the most. He supposed that was a side effect of becoming an enemy of someone you were once so close to.

From behind him, he could hear the backdoor open.

“Hey, Mateo, are you out here?” Bruno asked. There was a pause, and then “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Fernando said, his voice chipper. “Just having a little talk.”

“Oh, well, they wanted to cut the cake so -”

“You hear that, Pelirojo?” Fernando asked. Mateo stiffened. He hadn’t heard that nickname in years. His eyes never left the ground. “They wanna cut the cake. We should get going. You wouldn’t wanna be selfish , would you?”

Mateo bit his lip harshly. Fernando brushed past him. He could hear his footsteps fade away as he reentered the house. From behind him, he could hear the familiar ‘knock, knock, knock on wood’.

“What happened - shit, are you crying?” Bruno asked as he approached. 

It struck Mateo, suddenly and with surprise, that he was. His entire body shook as fat, hot tears rolled down his cheeks. He bit down on his lip with even more force. He hugged himself tightly as he shook his head.

“You are,” Bruno said. “What happened? What did he say to you?”

“Nothing,” Mateo said. It was punctuated by a sniffle. Bruno walked around in front of him. 

“Mateo -”

“Nothing happened,” Mateo said again, though it was much weaker this time.

His entire body stilled as Bruno took his face into his hands, gently lifting his head so he was looking up at him. He wiped at his tears. His fingertips were so soft it made Mateo think of a butterfly fluttering its wings. Perhaps it was the way his vision blurred due to the tears, or the soft glow of the moonlight that haloed around him, but Mateo had the abrupt realization that Bruno was beautiful.

“It wasn’t true,” Bruno said. “Whatever he said, it wasn’t true.”

“But -”

“It wasn’t,” Bruno insisted. There was a vigor to the way he spoke, as though he truly believed what he was saying.

“It was,” Mateo’s voice came out in a broken sob. He wanted to collapse against Bruno. He wanted to be cradled with all the gentleness Bruno was putting into simply wiping his tears. He could just barely keep himself standing. “I’m selfish and  mean and -”

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” Bruno murmured. He spoke with such painful tenderness. It was matched by the look on his face. Mateo felt like a statue, unable to move or speak. It was all he could do to keep breathing. Bruno wiped at a stray tear, his touch as soft as it was before. His hands were so warm against his face. Mateo thought he might melt right into them. He could feel his heart beating against his ribs like a battering ram falling against the castle gates. Their faces were so close, just centimeters apart. He could feel Bruno’s breath hitting his face in warm puffs. It smelt of coffee. 

“Bruno!” Pepa’s voice was shrill, easily heard even from the garden in which they stood. It jerked them both out of whatever trance they had been in. Bruno stepped back, his body stiffening. Mateo stood frozen, still.

“Let’s go,” Bruno said. “Mamá will kill me if we keep them waiting any longer.”

He took Mateo’s hand in his and began to lead him back into the house. Mateo let him, too stunned to do anything else. For a moment, he had been sure Bruno was about to kiss him. Even more terrifying than that was the fact that he would have let him.

Chapter Text

Mateo was on the cusp of sleep when a knock on his bedroom window violently pulled him back. He squeezed his eyes shut, praying it was just the wind or his imagination. A moment later, the knock returned. It was louder this time, and lasted a few seconds longer. Mateo sat up with a groan, irritation bubbling up within him. He snatched his glasses off his bedside table and roughly put them on his face. He stalked over to his window with a heated glare already settled across his face.

“Agustín I swear to God -” The rest of the sentence died upon his tongue as he yanked back the curtain. On the other side of the glass stood Bruno. Mateo’s glare melted into a confused frown. He opened the window, struggling a bit as he did so. It always got stuck halfway through. “Bruno?”

“Yeah,” Bruno said weakly. Mateo’s frown deepened.

“Are you okay?” He asked. Bruno nodded.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine, I just - can I sleep over?”

“Huh?”

“I - I don’t think I can be home right now.”

“Did something happen?”

“Yeah,” Bruno’s voice cracked as he spoke. Mateo hesitated for a moment.

“Okay,” He sighed. “But be quiet. My dad will freak out if he finds you here.”

“What?” Bruno asked as he began to heave himself through the window. He paused, halfway through. He had each leg swung over either side of the window frame, his right foot hanging just barely off the ground. “Why? Doesn’t Agustín sleep over all the time?”

“Yeah, but I’m not engaged to Agustín,” Mateo said, feeling his face grow warm. He would never get used to saying that. He was sure of it. Bruno looked equally as flustered.

“I’m not - I mean it’s not like … we aren’t going to do anything,” He stammered awkwardly

“I know,” Mateo said, frowning. “But my dad’s old-fashioned. I’m honestly surprised he even lets me see you without a chaperone.”

That didn’t seem to make Bruno any less embarrassed. He ducked his head as he finished pulling himself through, his loose curls hanging around his face. He was still wearing the ruana, as he had every day since receiving it. Given the late hour, Mateo was beginning to become half convinced that Bruno never took it off. The thought had his heart skipping a beat. He bit his lip, before reaching around Bruno and pulling the window shut. 

“Do you want some pajamas?” He asked after a moment of awkward silence.

“Will they fit?” Bruno asked. Mateo knew he didn’t mean it any sort of way, but he couldn’t help how harsh his glare was. Bruno wasn’t a big guy by any means and yet he, like everyone else, outsized him easily. 

“Nevermind then,” He snapped. Bruno immediately began to wilt, and that sharp, guilty feeling stabbed through him in an instance. He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair.

“Sorry,” Mateo said. “I’m just . . . Agustín calls it touchy, so I guess we’ll go with that. I’m touchy about that sort of thing.”

“What sort of thing?” Bruno asks, tilting his head to the side curiously.

“My size,” Mateo said as though it were a confession. He could feel his neck growing hot. “My body and I tend not to get along very well. I want to be one of those tall, strong guys. It decided to stop growing like, three years ago. So, ya know. I’m touchy.”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the way you look,” Bruno said. 

“Sure,” Mateo scoffed. 

“I mean it,” Bruno said. 

“Bruno, I’m five foot nothing, you can see my rib cage after a three-course meal, and I need these stupid glasses,” Mateo said. He wasn’t sure why he was arguing. He just never knew how to take a compliment. They made him angry sometimes. It felt like he was being lied to. “Plus, my hair’s a mess all the time, and I have these spots all over my skin. There’s a lot wrong with the way I look.”

“You’re beautiful,” Bruno said. His ears instantly began to turn red. Mateo's eyes were so wide he was sure he looked like some sort of bizarre bug. He could hardly believe his own ears. He almost began to believe he was hallucinating. “I mean - I can’t take that back, right? Then I’d be insulting you. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable, I just - I really don’t think there’s a single thing wrong with you. Like, your glasses are nice and your hair is really nice. It’s cool that you keep it long and your skin is - it’s kinda like a painting, ya know? I - I need to shut up. Please tell me to shut up.”

“Shut up,” Mateo said, though he felt a little breathless. His stomach was doing that strange twist that it always did around Bruno. His mind reeled as he struggled to think of something - anything - to say, when the image of Bruno, haloed by the moonlight and staring down at him with that achingly soft expression popped into his mind. He could taste the words sitting atop his tongue.

You’re beautiful too.

“I’m tired,” He said instead. “Let’s go to bed.”

Bruno nodded vigorously, before beginning to settle down onto the ground. Mateo arched an eyebrow.

“What are you doing?” He asked. Bruno frowned in confusion.

“Going to sleep?”

“On the floor?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Mateo said. “Get on the bed.”

“Where will you sleep then?” Bruno asked.

“The bed?” Mateo really wasn’t sure what the confusion was. Bruno seemed to be growing more and more flustered with every passing second. 

“I -"

“Don’t make it weird,” Mateo ordered. Bruno’s mouth snapped shut. He looked at the bed, and then at Mateo, before looking back at the bed. Slowly, he began to rise from the floor. He hesitated, before sitting on the edge. 

Mateo rolled his eyes before taking off his glasses. He placed them on his nightstand, next to a towering stack of books, and pulled back his blanket. He laid down, staring expectantly at Bruno. It wasn’t that he wanted to sleep in the same bed as him. He would have just felt like the world’s biggest asshole by making him sleep on the hard wooden floor. Bruno hesitated once more before crawling over and lying down beside him. He had his back pressed against the wall, keeping as much distance between him and Mateo as possible. Mateo was more than fine with that. He shut his eyes but found himself unable to focus on the simple task of falling asleep.

He could hear Bruno breathing beside him. It made him self-conscious, made him want to scoot as close to the edge of the bed as he could get without falling off. 

“Why are you here?” Mateo asked without meaning to. He cringed but realized he couldn’t just force the words back into his mouth. He waited for an answer. He would have accepted anything, even if it was Bruno telling him to fuck off. He received no answer, however. He turned his head to find Bruno with a crestfallen expression. He looked as though he were trying his damndest not to cry. “Bruno?”

“I - uh . . . you know how I gave that vision to Señor Aguilar today?” Bruno asked.

“Yeah,” Mateo said, already irritated with the direction this conversation was heading. 

Whatever he had told Señor Aguilar had not gone over well. He was walking with Agustín, going to meet Felix for one of his stupid fishing trips. Agustín had been in one of his rare, terrible moods. Bruno had told Pepa, who told Julieta, who told Agustín, that Fernando and he had gotten into yet another argument during the birthday party. Agustín had proceeded to spend half the morning grilling Mateo on what had happened, and when Mateo had finally told him - it didn’t go over well. Agustín wasn’t one to easily lose his temper. He held a grudge against Fernando, sure, but that was because they were hermanos. If it weren’t for that, Mateo doubted Agustín would have even noticed that Fernando had the most hideous mean streak hidden within him. Most people didn’t. But the knowledge that Fernando had meddled within their friendship had left Agustín in a sour mood, one that Mateo was struggling to get him out of. As they were heading to meet Felix, Mateo hoping a day of fishing would be enough to cheer Agustín up, they saw Señor Aguilar screaming at Bruno. He had him by his ruana, the green cloth crumpled in his tight fist. He was furious, red-faced, and spitting mad. There were shards of green glass around their feet. Bruno had this terrified look on his face, but what pissed Mateo off, even more, was the way everyone just stood around and watched. 

Mateo got horribly impulsive when he was angry. He never really knew how to control himself when his temper got the better of him. So it wasn’t truly a surprise to anyone when he picked up a rock from the ground and chucked it at Señor Aguilar, screaming at him to stop being a pendejo and leave Bruno alone. It didn’t go over well with his father, but he could hardly bring himself to regret it. 

“My uh . . . my mom heard about it and she wasn’t happy,” Bruno continued. 

“About me throwing a rock at him?” Mateo asked. He still didn’t regret it, but he didn’t much like the idea of upsetting Alma. He always had the sense that she was not a woman to be crossed.

“No - I mean, she wasn’t happy about that either,” Bruno chuckled weakly. His voice sounded thicker, somehow. “It was the vision. She was really mad about that.”

“What?” Mateo asked. He propped himself up on his elbows. “Why?”

“Cause it wasn’t good,” Bruno said.

“How’s that your fault?” Mateo asked. Bruno didn’t answer. He just squeezed his eyes shut as he took a deep, shuddering breath. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I shouldn’t have told him about it, though,” Bruno said after a moment. “It was really bad.”

“Then why’d you tell him?”

“He asked for a vision. I had to give him an answer."

“Okay,” Mateo said. He was fully sitting up now. “I’m honestly really confused. He asked for a vision, so you had to tell him what you saw. And because he didn’t like what he saw, it’s your fault, somehow? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“His wife is going to die,” Bruno confessed suddenly. Mateo froze. “She’s been . . . she’s been really sick lately and Julieta’s cooking isn’t helping, so he asked me to check. She’s going to die, and I - I had to tell him that. Of course, he was mad at me - I just told him his wife was going to die.”

“It’s honestly really fucked up that he even had you look into that,” Mateo said, his fists clenching in his lap. 

“What?” Bruno asked, startled. 

“Why would he have you check to see if someone lives or dies? Why would he put that burden on you?”

“It’s my job.”

“It’s fucked up!” Mateo was nearly shouting at this point. He bit his lip, waiting to see if he could hear his father rising. After a moment of silence, he continued. His voice was quieter. “Do you know how many times I’ve almost died? How many times I’ve gotten that sick? Has my dad ever bothered you about that?”

“No, but -”

“That's because it’s cruel. It’s a cruel thing to ask someone to do,” Mateo said. “And no one should be mad at you because someone asked you to take on a burden like that. No one. This is like, the definition of shooting the messenger.”

Bruno was silent for a long while. Mateo watched him. Bruno was staring at the bed and playing with the bedsheets. Mateo sighed, before laying back down. When he did, he was noticeably closer to Bruno. Neither of them commented on it.

“It’s not your fault,” Mateo said. His voice was quiet but firm.

“Tell that to my mom,” Bruno scoffed. Mateo’s eyebrows furrowed together. Bruno was strange. He had seemed so sad just moments ago, but the undeniable marks of anger were sparking in his eyes. It was impossible to miss, even in the dark of his room. “She was so pissed.”

“Is that why you came here?” Mateo asked. He wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about being the person Bruno came to in the middle of the night when things were tough and life was hard. He just knew he didn’t hate it and decided to leave it at that. Bruno nodded.

“We got into this massive fight,” Bruno said. “She doesn’t - she’s never on my side. Never. It’s not fair.”

“It’s not,” Mateo agreed.

“I mean, I’m her son. She barely even knows Señora Aguilar. Why are his feelings more important than mine? Why is everyone more important than me? She’s supposed to - she’s supposed to defend me. But she never does. It’s not - it’s not fair. She always wants me to apologize for everything, but it’s not - I didn’t ask to be born like this. I didn’t ask to be born at all.”

Mateo’s chest was constricting. He reached out and dropped his hand atop of Bruno’s. Bruno stilled, taking a breath so shaky Mateo didn’t think it could be considered a breath at all.

“I’m happy you were born,” Mateo said, so quiet he thought not even God would have heard him. Bruno, did, though. Bruno seemed to hear everything he said. It was a rare thing, being heard. “And I like you the way you are.”

Bruno crumpled. He fell apart, like the shards of glass that had surrounded his feet early that day. His face scrunched up and tears began to flow freely. Mateo lifted his arm, and in an instant, Bruno was at his side. His face was tucked into the crook of his neck, his hot tears wetting his shirt and skin. Mateo hesitated for a moment, before bringing a hand up and stroking it through Bruno’s curls. They were impossibly soft. Mateo imagined that it was similar to petting a cloud. He didn’t say anything as Bruno cried. He simply listened, waited for the quiet sobs to fade and abide and the tears to stop dripping onto his neck. It did eventually. 

“I can’t imagine you arguing with anyone,” Mateo said. He had tried picturing it as Bruno cried, but his mind always came up blank. Bruno chuckled weakly, before shifting away and out of Mateo’s arms. He felt a distinct sense of loss he didn’t want to focus on. He watched as Bruno wiped at his face with the heel of his palm.

“I uh, have a pretty bad temper sometimes,” Bruno said. “It’s hard to get me mad, but when you do - I’m not exactly the nicest.”

“Angry people rarely are,” Mateo said. Bruno gave him a half smile as he nodded.

“Yeah, well - I’m really not nice, when I’m mad. I’m a bit of an ass, honestly. My mom can get me there pretty easily, though,” Bruno said. His half smile faded as he spoke. “I said some really awful things. She said some really awful things, too. And I just kept thinking ‘if I stay here, I’ll die’. Like I felt so angry I thought my heart was gonna stop. So I left. It was pretty dramatic, honestly.”

“I don’t think so,” Mateo said. A traitorous part of him - the one that would have let Bruno kiss him - wanted to reach out once more. It wanted to pull Bruno close, to hold him and settle against him. He ignored it. “We should go to sleep.”

“Yeah,” Bruno sighed. “Yeah. We should.”

Mateo smiled softly at him before shutting his eyes. He wasn’t sure if Bruno did the same. He got the feeling he was being stared at, but he didn’t dare open his eyes to check. After several moments, the feeling went away. Sleeping was harder than he imagined with Bruno in his bed. He had shared a bed with Agustín too many times to count, and never once did he feel as tense as he did now. He wasn’t sure what the difference was. Perhaps it was different the same way everything with Bruno always seemed to be.

Chapter Text

When Mateo woke up, he swore the world was on fire. It took him several moments to realize that it wasn’t the world that was burning up, but him. He could feel the heat radiating off his sweat-slick skin. Despite that, goosebumps lined his body. He was shivering so harshly it seemed as though his body was simply jerking around on his bed. His head was pounding, as though the Flores’ smithy had taken up residence within his skull. He could hardly think. With a jolt of panic, he realized he could hardly breathe. His chest felt impossibly tight. His breath was nothing more than wheezes. The fire began to seep from his skin to inside of him. It moved from his stomach before slowly climbing up his throat, and it was all he could do to throw his head over the edge of his bed before he vomited. 

Distantly, he was aware Bruno was calling his name. He could feel hands against him, cool against his blazing skin. He sounded panicked. Mateo opened his mouth to comfort him, but all that came out was more vomit. Even his eyes burned, hot with stinging tears. Bruno was helping him settle back onto his bed, fluffing pillows and ripping off the blanket in some attempt to make him more comfortable. It didn’t help. Mateo grasped weakly at it. His body was trembling violently due to the sudden chill that had overtaken him. 

The door to his bedroom opened, and in came rushing his father. 

“Mijo - Bruno? What are you doing here?” His father asked, before shaking his head. “Nevermind. We’ll talk about this later. Mi vida, tell me what’s wrong? What do you feel? Can you breathe?”

Mateo wanted to answer. He couldn’t. Nothing came out except these shuddering breaths. His vision was blurring even worse than it normally did. 

“Señor -”

“Go get some food from your sister,” His father ordered, cutting Bruno off. “And Dr. Jimenez. Now.”

Past the fire Mateo swore was going to consume him whole, he felt a distinct sense of loss as he felt the bed shift beneath him and the blurry form of Bruno scampered out the room. A broken sob escaped him, though he could not find the energy within him to possibly explain as his father continued to ask him over and over what in specific was wrong. 

Everything , he wanted to say. Everything is wrong .

All that came out was more vomit, liquid and yellow. There was some sort of pathetic whimpering noise, though he wasn’t sure where it was coming from. He thought, maybe, that there was some sort of suffering child in the room. He wanted to ask his father to help them and not him, but his voice seemed to have vanished, replaced by this hoarse croak that barely sounded human. 

He was moving, but not of his own volition. Large, warm hands were upon him, shifting him around, moving and fluffing pillows, sweeping back his sweat-soaked hair. He was grasping for the blanket once more, but the large hands were gently tugging at his wrists and a soft voice was telling him to stop.

It was his father, he realized suddenly. He had forgotten he was there. He watched as his father flurried in and out of the room, cleaning the floor and bringing a bowl and a rag. He put the rag in the bowl before smoothing it over his forehead. It was cold and wet. Mateo jerked in agitation but found he lacked the will to raise his hands to tug it off. 

Someone was holding his hand, gripping it as though it were a lifeline and it took him far too long to realize Bruno had returned. He smiled, though he wasn’t sure it looked like a smile based on the expression Bruno wore. People were talking, all low and worried, and Mateo realized that Bruno had brought guests. He wanted to tell them to leave. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this. A hacking cough replaced his words. 

He strained himself in an attempt to focus. His head was swimming in some sort of fog, and it took him a moment to realize the guests in question were Julieta and Dr. Jimenez. Julieta had a basket of something in her arms, a worried expression settled deeply on her face. Dr. Jimenez was hovering over him, checking over him. Mateo jerked to try and get away, but Bruno pushed him back down. It wasn’t a hard push, but Mateo thought that just a tap would be enough to shatter him into a million ugly pieces. He was unfortunately and particularly pathetic at that moment, more so than usual. 

His father was holding something small and round in front of his face. The edges of it just brushed his lips. He turned his head, squeezing his mouth shut tightly. He couldn’t bear the idea of eating, not after all that had just been expelled from him. His throat still ached and burned and itched in a way he’d never be able to scratch. 

For a moment, he swore he heard his mother’s voice. He couldn’t make out what she was saying, not over all the talking in his room. He shushed them, but it came out like a weak hiss. It took him several moments to realize that he had never heard his mother’s voice before. She was dead. So was he - or at least, he almost was. There was no doubt in his mind about that. His body ached far too much for him to muster up the energy to be afraid. 

It would be nice to see his mother. He wanted to know what her voice actually sounded like, not what he just imagined it to be. 

Then Bruno was in front of his face, all blurry and holding something in front of his mouth. He opened it slightly, and that same small and round thing entered his parted lips. He forced himself to chew, tears filling his eyes as he forced the mashed-up food down his pained throat. A warm feeling overcame him, so different from the smoldering fire that seemed intent on swallowing him whole. A bit of relief came to him. Everything hurt just a bit less. The small round thing was in front of his mouth again, and it was the same actions repeated until the small round thing had disappeared and Mateo was himself enough that he was able to understand that he had eaten one of Julieta’s arepas. His body still ached, his head still hurt, and his throat still burned. But it had lessened enough that he no longer felt a few steps off from death. He was able to think and move, though he did so gingerly. 

He looked around at the people watching him as he shifted around into a more comfortable position. Dr. Jiminez and his father had those grim looks he was oh so familiar with. His father always looked ten years older than he really was when he was sick, worried wrinkles sunken into every crevice of his face. Julieta looked equally as worried, but her eyes kept snapping back and forth between him and Bruno. It took him a moment before he worked up the courage to glance over at Bruno. 

He looked disturbed. There was no other word for it. His wide eyes were glossy with tears, and the dark circles that seemed to be a permanent staple of his appearance were all the more prominent. His entire body was stiff as he knelt on the bed beside him, as though he were afraid one wrong move would send Mateo spiraling into the depths of fever once more. 

Humiliation, hot and heavy, curled within him. He squeezed his eyes shut, before forcing out a hoarse “thank you”. His father would have expected him to say thank you, even when all he really wanted was for everyone to leave so he could cling to whatever dignity he had left. Distantly, he was aware his father and Dr. Jiminez were talking to each other, but he didn’t bother trying to actually listen. He just stared at his ceiling, wishing desperately for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. Bruno reached over him and gingerly placed his glasses onto his face. Mateo wasn’t sure as to whether he wanted to thank him or deck him in the face. After several minutes, Dr. Jiminez left. 

“I’ll have to cancel class today or see if one of the other teachers would be willing to have you guys sit in with them,” His father said after a moment. “I’m sorry, but I can’t leave Mateo alone like this.”

Mateo wanted to tell him he’d be fine, but he was worried his words would devolve into nothing more than another hacking cough, and he didn’t think he could bear the embarrassment of that. 

“I can take care of him,” Bruno said suddenly. Mateo stiffened. He didn’t think he’d be able to move a muscle even if he wanted to. 

“Bruno -”

“I should know what to do, right?” Bruno continued, cutting his father off. “I mean, I should know how to take care of him when he gets sick, right?”

His father fell silent for a moment, and Mateo prayed to whoever was listening that he’d say no.

“Fine,” His father sighed, and Mateo wanted nothing more than to bash his head against the wall. Of course, no one was listening to him. “But we’re going to talk about your little . . . sleepover when I get back.”

“You slept over here?” Julieta asked, finally speaking. 

“Don’t tell mamá,” Bruno said quickly. Julieta fixed him with a stern look, and Bruno wilted. It was as though she were older by several years and not just mere minutes.

“Your mother and I will talk about this later,” His father said. 

Bruno cringed but didn’t protest. Mateo didn’t have enough energy to care. He just wanted everyone out of his room, so he could suffer in silence the way he was accustomed to. His father began to list off all the things Bruno needed to do while caring for him, all the different things he should be wary of. The “ifs” and the “do not’s”. It was a laundry list of tasks and warnings, something that only served to strengthen Mateo’s desire for some freak sinkhole to put him out of his misery. His father finally left with Julieta after gathering everything they might possibly need while they were gone - tissues, water, rags, medicine, and the basket of arepas. Mateo knew it was a great kindness, as Julieta would have to make more later, but he couldn’t stand the thought of stomaching another. 

Bruno replaced the wet rag on his forehead with another one, gently smoothing his hair out of his face. His fingers were impossibly slender, bordering on bony, but his palm was incredibly soft. It felt nice.

“Our parents are gonna kill me, huh?” Bruno asked. Mateo could tell by the lilt in his voice that he was trying to lighten the mood and normally he would have played along, if for no other reason than to save Bruno’s self-esteem from a momentary collapse. He couldn’t bring himself to, this time. 

Never before had he felt like more of a burden. He wondered, for a moment, if this would finally be when Bruno realized what a mistake it would be if they got married. The idea didn’t excite him nearly as much as he thought he would. He realized, suddenly, that the prospect of that terrified him. 

He didn’t realize he was crying until Bruno was wiping at his tears.

“It’s okay,” Bruno assured quietly. “Tell me what hurts. Is it your lungs? Your head? Do you want another arepa?”

Mateo shook his head vigorously, which was a mistake as his head did in fact ache ferociously. 

“I’m sorry,” He croaked. Bruno frowned.

“For what?” Bruno asked.

“Being like this,” Mateo said, his voice somewhere between a sob and a hoarse whisper. Bruno’s frown deepened.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” He said. “I’m happy. I mean, I’m happy to help you. Not happy that you feel so sick. Obviously, I’m not. But I’m happy to take care of you.”

Somehow, that made Mateo feel better and worse at the same time. Bruno hesitantly lifted his hand for a moment before bringing it to his hair. He began combing his fingers through it, stroking it with all the tenderness a teenage boy could muster. Mateo knew all the sweat had probably turned it into a tangled, greasy mess, but Bruno didn’t complain. Despite himself, Mateo leaned into his touch. Tears continued to slip down his face, warm against his already too hot skin. After several minutes, they finally stopped. Bruno helped him sit up, a long process due to his aching bones, before reaching around him and grabbing a glass of water. He brought it to Mateo’s lips, one hand still on his back to help him keep steady. Mateo could only manage a few sips before the pain of swallowing anything down his raw throat became too much. Bruno seemed to understand, as he pulled the glass away from his mouth and placed it back on his nightstand. He helped Mateo settle, before fixing the rag back on his forehead. 

“Do you want me to tell you a story?” Bruno asked after a moment.

“Sure,” Mateo croaked.

He had assumed that Bruno would pluck one of the many books stacked atop the nightstand next to his bed and begin to recite the passages within. Instead, he laid down beside Mateo and began to speak. 

He told a story of a sad and lonely prince, locked away in a tower with no friends to call his own. He wasn’t a beautiful prince. He wasn’t charming or intelligent, and had little talents to speak of. There were rumors that floated around the kingdom, that the prince was dangerous and that was why he was locked away. And thus, the not beautiful and dangerous prince was left there. There were no knights in shining armor riding atop horses, desperate to save him from his fate. The prince thought he would live the rest of his life like that, isolated and hated. Then, one day, a boy appeared. He was no knight. He wasn’t particularly fast or strong. But he was intelligent, kind, and brave. The prince would watch him from his tower and swear he was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen - Bruno made sure to put a lot of emphasis on that. Then, one day, the boy strode up to the tower. He had heard rumors of the dangerous prince, but scoffed and rolled his eyes at all of them. The boy never believed any of them. Much to the surprise of everyone in the kingdom - including the prince - the doors to the tower swung open for the boy without any hesitation, allowing him in to free the prince. 

“Did they live happily ever after?” Mateo asked, his speech slightly slurred. He was struggling to keep his eyes open. Bruno’s voice had been so soothingly quiet as he spoke. It was lulling him to sleep.

“I hope so,” Bruno said. He had a soft look on his face.

“I can’t believe you made yourself a prince in that story,” Mateo said, too tired to even properly roll his eyes.

“What? No! I - I’m not the prince - why would you think I’m the prince?” Bruno spluttered. Mateo chuckled softly. He shifted around slightly, closing his eyes as he did so. He could feel slumber coming for him at a swift pace. He didn’t have the strength to fight it.

“I think the prince is beautiful,” Mateo murmured after a few moments. He was too tired to even think straight. 

“You do?”

“Mmhh.”

“Oh.”

It was quiet after that. Mateo liked the quiet. It was comfortable. As he felt himself finally drift to sleep, his last distinct thought was that perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to be married to Bruno after all.