Work Text:
Mirabel had been making a habit out of leaving her room when the casita grew quiet, after the rest of the family had been whisked away to sweet dreams. As she got closer to Bruno, her bed began to feel colder, Mira sneaking into her tíos room to share his instead. He hadn’t been supportive of the idea at first, used to being alone. It hadn’t taken him long to change his mind. Soon he was expecting her nightly, eager to wrap his arms around and clutch her tight to him.
Tonight was no different, night peaking in the valley as they all slept in the heavy humid late summer evening. Mirabel lay on her side, dozing fitfully with Bruno’s arms loosely holding her.
She stirred a little when he sat up, the weight and warmth of his arms absent but not enough to wake her fully. It wasn’t until the gentle white-noise lull of the sand started to grow to an increasingly angry hiss that her mind demanded her to rise.
It was dark in the room, a few high windows giving natural light, but a green glow had begun to illuminate the room. She blinked, the world blurred without her glasses, but the color rising through a torrent of sand letting her know what was happening; Bruno was having a vision.
Mirabel pulled herself up, finding Bruno sitting upright with his eyes open and glowing. His brows were pulled together tightly, sweat beading. His shoulder rose and fell with his rapid breath, too fast to be sustained. If he was aware of where he was, he showed no sign of it, his eyes flickering around images that Mirabel wasn't privy to.
“Tío? Tío, let me help.” She tried to reach for his hand, to see what he was seeing. He pulled away from her, shaking his head as tears shone on his eyes.
“No… no no no.” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. She’d never seen him get this way, the cyclone of sand rising in ferocity and whipping her hair around her face. Sand grit stung at her eyes, Bruno still staring blankly ahead with his growing expression of horror.
She’d seen him be woken by visions before, sitting up in his bed, shoulders slumping and staring forward as sand danced. Most of them had been brief, leaving him more annoyed that it had cut into his rest than bothered by them. He’d just apologize for it waking Mirabel, then pull her close and fall back asleep. Sometimes he’d tell her about them in the morning, glances of the future near and far.
This wasn’t brief. This wasn’t just an annoyance. The room was a storm of sand and he was distressed. Mirabel's stomach twisted in fear; what could he be seeing that was this upsetting?
When he sobbed, she grabbed his shoulder. He didn’t flinch, didn’t respond, just stared forward, heaving quick and shallow breaths and crying, lips pulled down in a pained grimace.
“Tío!” She almost had to yell above the magical wind that was circling the sand. “Tío Bruno, tell me what to do! What’s wrong?!”
His lips quivered, but he didn’t speak. Mirabel had to go get someone- but was it even safe to leave the eye of the storm? Even here, by Bruno, she was getting stung by stray grains of sand, and the wind felt so strong that it might just pick her up if she tried to leave the bed. She shook his shoulder, fighting the rising fear of helplessness.
And then, it stopped.
The wind disappeared, the suspended sea of sand landing hard on the ground and raising a cloud of dust. Mirabel coughed, waving it away. She could taste sand on her tongue and it was all up in her nose, that dry and dusty smell.
Bruno was still crying, Mirabel holding onto his shoulder and feeling him curl over himself as he sobbed. The dust finally started to settle and she could hear him muttering under his breath.
“Tío? Bruno… what- what happened?” She asked. He flinched as if he hadn’t realized she was there, that her hand hadn’t been on his shoulder this whole time. His panic hadn’t slowed, eyes wide and dilated but no longer glowing.
“I don’t- I- I- Mira-” He stumbled over his words, looking around as if the answer would be present in the room around them. Both of his hands were trembling, thumb tapping each finger tip from index to pinky and back again. He gave a pained whine.
“You had a vision… what did you see?” Mirabel asked, getting closer and running her hand down his back. He shivered.
“I don’t know… There was- there was…” his brows knit together in concentration and he shook his head. “It wasn’t clear, it- it just… It was bad.” He whispered the last part, and closed his eyes. “I was so scared, Mirabel.”
He looked at her, trying to find words to fit what he had seen. She knew that sometimes his visions were not direct. They didn’t always come as clear and obvious signs, mostly they were vague and ambiguous. This one seemed even more unreadable.
“It was like… I couldn’t breathe.” He said, blinking a few times. “And it was- it was hot and bright…” He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. “I tried not to fight it, ‘cause I knew it was big, and it still hurts . I don’t- I don’t even know what it- And you’re here, and- and you don’t- you should-”
Mirabel cut him off, shushing him as he spiraled towards blaming himself for her choices. She was getting good at it.
“It’s okay, tío.” She said softly, wrapping an arm around him and hugging him. She couldn’t do anything for his pain, the migraines that he developed if he tried to push back against one of his involuntary visions. Not even her mamás magical cooking helped it. But she could be here for him, at least.
“It’s not , though.” He said quietly, shoulders slumping. His shaking had started to slow, but his hands still fidgeted and danced. “What good is seeing danger in the future if I can’t even tell what it is?” He gave a single dry laugh and then winced, one hand rising to rub his left temple. “Useless.”
“You’re not useless, what you are is tired and stuck with a gift that you can’t turn off.” Mirabel said, trying to be reassuring. “You were given the ability to see the future, not interpret it.”
“Gracias, mija,” he said, offering a small smile. Then he sighed. “If it is coming, though… I’ll have to figure it out.”
“Yeah, but unless it’s gonna happen in the next hour or two, you don’t need to right now.” Mirabel offered.
“It felt pretty far off. Those ones are always harder to- to understand…”
“See? It’ll be okay.”
Bruno opened his eyes again, squinting in the darkness that was pierced only by the ambient light of the moon and stars. He sighed, looking around his room. The sand that had been in more or less orderly piles of the room was still where it had landed, hiding the cobblestone floor beneath a miniature desert.
“We can worry about that in the morning.” Mirabel said, catching his gaze. “For now... Can I try something?”
He looked at her curiously, nodding slowly. She smiled.
“Sit against the head of the bed.” She directed. He shuffled himself back, watching her.
She pulled herself onto his lap, sitting on his thighs and facing him. Her hands found his hair, nails gently grazing his scalp from his temples up and around back. She scratched gentle, slow circles in his now sand filled curls. He closed his eyes, shoulders dropping tension and hands raising to her hips. They squeezed her gently, the twitches of his anxious fingers comfortable and familiar. She kept scratching, slow and drawn out motions, not pressing too hard but enough to stimulate.
Mirabel didn’t know if this would help at all, if it would soothe the pulse that rocked his brain, but she hoped it at least could divert focus from it. From his pleased groan, she figured it was working.
His eyes opened just enough for him to catch her eyes.
“Thank you, Mirabel.” He said softly. He shifted and leaned forward, resting his forehead on his shoulder. She adjusted, scratching slow circles throughout his scalp as he rested there.
“Always, mi amor.” She whispered back.