Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Everything has a secret, something the naked eye cannot see. If anyone in el Encanto understood this, it was the Madrigals. Their gift was always there, always under their skin. It was a part of them, a tingle that offered a constant source of reassurance that everything would be okay. It made them all feel safe.

Well, for all except one. 

Bruno stood at age 14, dreading the day’s trip into the village. He had slowly convinced his madre to allow him to remain within his room most days, stating that the visions were most accurate - more beneficial even - were he to use his ritual room. However, once a week she still insisted he walk into the village and talk with any of the villagers who wished to know their future. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t call forth a vision on demand without an open space and his sand, it didn’t matter that he never had something to say that the villagers wanted to hear. What his mother said was law, and she said he needed to go and talk.

Talk. That was funny. Talking implied that he took part in the conversations.

Instead, these days tended to be days in which he just stood there and listened to the villagers. Either he listened to them cry and beg for answers on why when he delivered them bad news, or he listened to them berate him on how he was the devil compared to the other angels of the Madrigals. His powers were evil - he wasn’t seeing the future, clearly he was causing it, and he only caused harm. It wasn’t the excessive empanadas that caused Jorge’s gut to grow out, it was his prediction. Adella’s goldfish didn’t die because some house salt fell and was spilled into the bowl, clearly a 10-year-old Bruno was just trying to cause chaos and hurt the people he cared so much for. 

But he had no choice. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the wood of the doorframe and held his breath as he stepped out.

Ten years. For ten years, he’d gone without interaction with others of the same species. Well, there was Dolores, but he wasn’t sure he counted the occasional hushed conversations they had through the wall. It was clear that his niece didn’t trust him 100%, that she didn’t know why he had remained, but apparently trusted him enough to not rat out that he was still in la casita. He was grateful, don’t get him wrong. Those few conversations may have been what kept him sane (arguably) but it hurt, that the sobrina he had once been so close to, that he used to style the hair of, was suddenly only willing to have surface level conversations, nothing deeper than a quick ‘How are you?’, cutting him off if he tried to truly discuss his fears. Not that he had tried more than once - grown up as she may be now, most of this time she was a child, and she still was to him. 

Other than those few and far between conversations about the weather and confirming if he was getting enough food (he was so grateful when she snuck him plates full on the occasions where the house was more on the watch for his thieving rats), his rats were his only companions. Many had died over the years, none of the ones with him now having been with him at the start, but he had known them their entire lives. Other rats came and left, but he’d known these ten since their birth.

Fettuccini, Leche, Queso, Marzipan, Empanada, Garlic, Meatball, Gazpacho, Churro, and Ginger. 

Yes, he had a theme, one that started when he was young. The rats of El Encanto had always been drawn to him, especially those that lived in the walls of la Casita. The current Queso was actually Queso IV, having named his first friend that. Yes, his first friend. He couldn’t remember ever having a friend aside from his sisters, and he wasn’t sure he would count them. He loved them, dearly, but he wasn’t sure he deserved their love, or even if they did love him more than out of familial obligation. Especially after Pepa’s wedding. 

But yes, the rats. They were his main conversation partners the past 10 years, and he couldn’t have asked for better friends. He taught them to act, to play, how to tell which food was the least likely to be missed. Well, he was less proud of that last one, but it was a necessity. His poor lil’ buddies, thieves of the Madrigals, but it kept them alive. 

He wasn’t sure he would be alive today without his friends. Not only did they feed him, and provide entertainment, but he may have lost the will to try and stay alive without them. Seeing his family, move on so quickly from him. So quick to agree with the villagers who had always blamed him. Instilling that rule .

‘We don’t talk about Bruno .’

One may be able to convince themselves that this rule was out of sadness - that discussing the loss of their son, their brother, their uncle, would be too much. But he knew the truth, he was there when it was decided at the dining table. Bruno was too shameful to the family Madrigal. He had fled and abandoned his family, after having only brought trouble upon them all. It was all of his worst fears brought to light, only a month after he had fled to the walls. 

He almost broke his makeshift addition to the table that night. 

But the rats, they needed him just as he needed them. They provided a comfort to him, made him feel that someone truly cared for him, wanted him around. They climbed up his clothes on cold nights, hiding in his old, tattered ruana, happy to share his body heat and not afraid to get too close. They were the only living contact he had anymore. Sure, it wasn’t human contact, but he’d take what he could get.

Truly, he wasn’t sure he’d remembered a positive human contact after the first few months in the wall.

The cruelty of the villagers was what stood out in his mind, along with one moment with his madre. The day he’d tried to explain that he didn’t want to settle down with Camilla, that he didn’t want to get married. That he didn’t love her, that he didn’t think he’d ever really liked any girl like that.

That Tomas, the seamstress’ son, drew his attention far more.

Even now, almost 30 years later, he could recall the feeling of the back of her hand against his cheek. His madre had immediately frozen afterwards, muttering apologies and saying how she didn’t mean to, but he was speaking nonsense and she needed to snap him out of it. Those words still rung in his ears. That no, her son was normal. 

And what a laugh that was. What a normal son, able to see visions of the future, who’s brown eyes would suddenly glow a bright green as he saw things no one else could see. But the tipping point wasn’t that, no, it was that he could possibly be a homosexual. 

Truthfully, he wasn’t even sure. He’d never thought much of it before his mother asked him to court Camilla (or more accurately, demanded it), and he sure as hell never thought about it afterwards, except for those cold nights in the wall where not even his friends could snap him out of his darkest thoughts. 

These nights became more frequent, and more dark, the longer he was in the wall. Once, poor 19-year-old Dolores had even had to talk him down from a panic attack, tucking herself against the wall of the kitchen and hoping no one woke up while she told her tío Bruno to take deep breaths. 

Yet another thing in his life that was never spoken of again.

And now he’s out. Back with his familia, and everyone was acting normal.

But it didn’t feel normal. They weren’t even acting like how they were before Mirabel’s unfortunate gifting ceremony, when he could still pretend they were a real family. That they loved him. No, they were acting like they really did. His madre had apologized, and said she loved him. Made sure to say it almost daily now.

He wasn’t sure he could remember the last time that phrase was directed at him.

Pepa hadn’t required more of an explanation than his quick one while they were reunited. She forgave him for the wedding, and just wanted to act as though nothing had happened. She showed him baby pictures of Antonio - who he was finally able to truly meet, and not briefly see through cracks in the wall, or when it was revealed that his friends had betrayed him (they had a long talk about that later, not that Bruno could get them to listen in this case). 

Julieta seemed the most sincere, apologizing to him about how they’d taken him for granted, and how she had missed her brother. How their family had felt broken since he left, and she had feared he was dead. She’d cried when she said that. Bruno didn’t know what to do, but held his breath as her hair cascaded under his chin, tickling his nose, and she cried on his chest. He patted her back softly and said he was here now, but truly?

He felt like he’d never left those walls.

That some part of him had died down there.

This family? It didn’t feel like his any more. He’s spent so long on the outside looking in. Even before the wall, he hadn’t felt like a part of the family since he was… six, maybe seven? Since the people realized his gift wasn’t a blessing, but a curse.

He was the only Madrial grateful that the gifts were gone. 

But then they’d come back. 

For the first week, he hadn’t had a vision. He’d hoped maybe his gift was gone. That he was no longer deemed worthy of the miracle - he wouldn’t blame whatever being had bestowed them upon his familia or deciding that. But no. The next day, he’d dropped a glass on the floor, shattering it as his eyes glowed a bright green. He’d then turned and monotonously told Camilo that the chorizo paella he’d eaten earlier had gone off, and he should stay home from school the next day.

He’d gone up to his room and hadn’t left after that, not wanting to stick around and see his family’s reaction to his gift. 

Sure enough, Camilo was stuck clutching his stomach the next day, and everyone could tell by the look on his face that Bruno didn’t want to discuss it. 

Or maybe they just didn’t want to discuss it, either. 

Either way, his gift was never brought up. The days went on. Bruno was more accepted than ever, but felt farther away from his family than ever, too. It felt too… fake. They never discussed anything. They… they felt sorry for him, after Mirabel and Dolores revealed the truth of where he’d been all those years. Poor Bruno, living like a rat in the walls for 10 years, watching his family and just wanting them to be happy. 

Poor Bruno, slowly going mad, gong as insane as they’d always said.

Sometimes he wished he’d never left those walls, and had let la casita collapse down on him.

Chapter Text

The sky shone a soft light over the land hidden in the mountains known as el Encanto. Most villagers were out in the streets, getting chores done or even just enjoying the beautiful weather that they had been graced with. Not too hot, not too cold, perfect to just bask in and enjoy the natural beauty of their land.

One villager, however, was not enjoying such things.

Bruno was in his room once more, refusing to leave despite the note Mirabel had slipped under. Honestly, he wouldn’t have noticed the note if Ginger hadn’t gone to fetch it for him. He loved his rats, but sometimes he wished they’d just let him fade into the background and stop encouraging him to go be with his family. 

‘ Bruno,’ the note read, ‘We’re all heading out into the village today to do our chores and then eat dinner with a few of the villagers ’. Bruno was smart enough to know that it was never a few. Basically the whole village gathered on the nights that they did this. ‘I know it’s not really your thing, but it would really mean a lot to us if you’d join us.

We love you, tío Bruno

Mirabel’

Bruno smiled at his sobrino’s signature. The letters flowed together in soft loops, her signature a gracefulness that her feet only wished they could possess. He hated to disappoint her, but he just couldn’t bring himself to even leave the hammock he called a bed that had been installed in a secret part of his tower, about halfway up the steps. No one, not even the other Madrigals, had any idea where his ‘bedroom’ was, only knowing it was somewhere hidden in his ‘vision cave’. He liked it that way, having somewhere private.

But honestly? He was also lonely. 

He lay there, staring at the letter until his arm was too tired to hold it up. He believed that Mirabel truly believed what she was saying - she had less of a reason to lie to him than anyone. Well, anyone but little Antonio - his sobrino hadn’t even been born when he’d vanished from the life of the Madrigals. He also just, genuinely liked the youngest two members of the family. He liked all of his sobrinos. They were all just… not perfect , but he wouldn’t change a thing about them. 

Even Camilo.

The thought of the younger boy had him shuddering slightly, as he pictured the things he’d seen him telling Mirabel about him that day.

‘ A seven-foot frame, rats along his back
When he calls your name it all fades to black
Yeah, he sees your dreams and feasts on your screams’.

He shuddered at the image of how Camilo had pictured him, overall characteristics the same, but a crazed look in his eyes. He wondered if that was how everyone saw him. He knew that that was how the villagers saw him, but a part of him still held out hope that maybe his familia didn’t. But he’d heard all the things they’d said about him for the past 10 years, he wasn’t sure why he still held out that hope. 

It was clear that they saw him as a monster.

Sometimes he was shocked that they let him stay in la Casita with them, that they didn’t fear the things he’d do to them. They all seemed to think that his visions were a curse, and still did if the fact that they ignored them now was any sign. In fact, his visions were the reason he was holed up in his room right now. He’d found that the less he was around people, the less he saw them, the less likely he was to have a vision.

He stared at the letter from Mirabel one more time before sighing and flinging his legs over the side of his hammock to sit up. 

He looked around his ‘room’. It was empty aside from the hammock and a small pile of blankets in the corner for his rats to sleep on. There were small bowls of food for the rats to choose from over by their bedding, as well as some old plates on the floor from his own meals that Julieta had been leaving outside his door. 

With a sigh, he stood up and began collecting his own bowls, also ensuring that the bowls for the rats were fresh and didn’t need to be changed. He took far better care of his friends than he did himself, but who could blame him? He was pretty sure that even the largest of rat haters found him to be the bigger pest. 

Once he had a sizable stack of dishes in his arms, he began the trek down the stairs. He spent the entire time convincing himself he was doing the right thing, the family wouldn’t hate him for joining them and wanting to spend time with his sobrinos, no, he wasn’t a bad influence on them so long as he kept his mouth shut and didn’t have any stupid visions (not that he could control them, especially not anymore). 

Once he reached his door, he took a deep breath and held it. He removed one hand from the stack of dishes, and whispered a soft ‘knock knock knock’ as he tapped on the door frame, not inhaling until he had crossed the threshold into the main part of the house.

By now, the rest of the family had already left for the village, but he knew it would be easy to find them. It gave him some time to wash the dishes he’d brought down, and talk himself into why this would be a good idea. The kids usually separated off from the adults on these days, the adults prefering to talk to the adults of the village while the kids went and goofed off once their chores were done. Hopefully Mirabel at least would be finished, usually just assisting the seamstress on chore days.

Taking an apple from the counter, he took a few bites for himself before cutting the rest into small chunks for his friends. He mixed it into a bowl with some oats and sunflower seeds - a few of their favorite snacks. Perhaps a bit too fattening, but they could be spoiled for the day, especially as they were so used to having Bruno with them at all times. And today would be different.

He would make it different. 

Setting the bowl on the floor in the corner of the kitchen, near a small hole Casita had created to allow the rats easy passage through the walls (no one said anything when these holes appeared in the few rooms Bruno frequented - they had quickly come to accept his strange choice in companionship, no longer complaining like they had in the days before the wall). He also ensured the shallow water dish he kept there was fresh. It looked like someone - likely Antonio or Mirabel - had already changed the water that morning, causing a small smile to flick onto Bruno’s face, and encouraging him to go through with his plans today.

He was going out. Into the village. To be with his sobrinos. 

He’d have to venture out alone to start, of course. It was his own fault, waiting until the family left. But he couldn’t go with them, couldn’t let them see the fear in his eyes, even if he hadn’t just made up his mind mere minutes ago after rereading Mirabel’s letter. He squeezes his eyes shut at the thought of his family’s judgemental eyes on him. They never said anything, but he could always feel what they thought about him, as though his gift were to read minds instead of see the future. Honestly, he couldn’t decide which gift would be worse. 

He took a deep breath and held it for a moment, this time to calm his breathing rather than in an effort to ward off bad luck in the tunnels he’d once lived in. Releasing it, he checked that he was ready to go. He felt his pockets for the small pouches Mirabel had sewn for him - having realized the salt and sugar throwing were a regular occurrence for her tío, she had sewn him small green pouches, one with a salt shaker on it and one with a sugar bowl. It certainly kept his pockets much cleaner, and made it easier to keep the rats out of the sugar, especially. 

Feeling anxious, he went ahead and tossed a pinch of each over his shoulder, causing Casita to shudder the floor tiles - they’d never adjust to Bruno’s habits, but at least they came to accept them. The first time he’d done his ritual in the newly rebuilt house, Casita had tossed the salt back at him, causing it to get stuck in his hair. The rats had really enjoyed helping him to clean that out. 

Bruno tried to think of anything else that he needed to do before he left, and could (unfortunately) think of nothing - no more delays. He needed to head out now, or else he never would. He took a deep breath, and opened the door, heading outdoors. His eyes widened at the sight before him - a single crow standing on the path, seeming to stare at him, before flying away.

He resisted every urge to just give up and go back inside.

A death omen. Great.

Chapter Text

Bruno held his breath as he forced himself to keep walking. His eyes were shut as he tried to wash out the image of the crow having stood before him, blocking his path before it flew off into the wilderness surrounding Casita. Fortunately, he knew this path well enough to avoid even the newly minted cracks that had surfaced when the gift had left the lands, leaving devastation in its wake.  

Bruno held out strong, though. He clenched his hands into fists to the point where they shook, crescent imprints making their way onto his palm from his nails. Not even a raven would stop him today. No black cats, no ladders, nada, nothing. He could do this. 

Eventually, he knew he’d walked far enough that the house was no longer in sight. He knew this path well enough, even with his title as local recluse. He took this path in this very same attempt every time his family went into the village. He wouldn’t do it if anyone stayed back, as he didn’t want them to see him fail at something so simple as leaving Casita for even a short visit. Usually around this point is where Bruno would mutter “Nope, nope, nevermind, nope,” and make his way back towards Casita where he’d hole himself up in his room until dinner - and sometimes past that. And oh boy was that tempting to do today. Realizing he was still holding his breath, he took a few quick, gasping breaths before holding it again.

  ‘Maybe this wasn’t the greatest habit,’ he thought as he felt a bit lightheaded, both from holding his breath and from the anxiety coursing through him. He released his breath once more and instead took a few calming, deep breaths. 

‘In for three,
hold for seven,
out for eight.’

He repeated this mantra to himself for a few minutes until he could feel his heart return to a more normal pacing. He unclenched his hands, wincing as he felt the deep imprints his nails had left behind. He gently used his fingers to rub over the spots before taking one final, deep breath. He resisted the urge to hold it again as he continued on.

Soon, Bruno could see the hustle and bustle of the village as he reached the bottom of the hill. He tossed the hood of his ruana up, aware that it made the villagers that much more scared of him, but needing the comfort it provided. Having his peripheral view blocked from the material allowed him to focus solely on where he was going, and less on the people who were inevitably whispering about ‘Bad-luck Bruno’ having ventured out of his abode. 

He did his best to block out the noises of the village, sure that were he to listen, he’d hear the whispers about him that he always did. Resisting the urge to cover his ears with his hands, Bruno wrapped his arms around himself under his ruana, hoping to make himself feel smaller without showing weakness to those around him. 

Having a better idea of where Mirabel would be than the others, Bruno set course towards the local seamstress. He was glad his sobrina had picked up such a creative little task when he’d been gone. He’d known she’d be devastated by the lack of her own gift when he’d left, but he hadn’t thought of how it’d affect her perceived ability to help the village like the rest of her family. It seemed, though, that she’d found a little niche for herself. She’d help to mend and hem clothing for the seamstress, and in return, old Ms. Garcia (could Bruno really call anyone old anymore? She’d been a young woman the first time he’d met her, still undergoing apprenticeship with the seamstress before her) would teach her to embroider and sew in more creative ways than just clothes. 

As he opened the door, he thanked whoever might be watching over him that Ms. Garcia had never been overtly rude to him. He wouldn’t say that she liked him per se, but she never tried to kick him out of her store, even when the majority of villagers couldn’t bear to tolerate his presence, afraid his bad luck and ‘curses’ would plague their shops.

“H-hello?” he asked, not seeing anyone right away. He had only been here one other time since his return, having been dragged by Luisa to bring Mirabel her lunch. Glancing around, he took in the varying materials and clothing. Mostly there were hung fabrics of a plethora of colors and patterns, though there were some already finished clothes draped upon carved wood in an attempt to show them off better than just hanging them. On the outside the store was so normal, perhaps even bland compared to some of the colorful houses and stores in the village, but Bruno was a bit stunned at all the color on the inside. He shook his head to snap out of the distraction, and looked around a bit more. “Anybody here?”

“Tío Bruno!” Mirabel shouted, coming out from behind a curtain Bruno hadn’t even noticed before - it had seemed just like any of the other draped fabrics. Looking at his sobrina, Bruno noticed the surprise fade into excitement as a grin formed on her face. “I didn’t think you’d come!”

“Yeah, well, you know,” Bruno began to joke, “I’m a pretty busy guy, but I figured I’d make some space for you.” He felt a wince at his joke, regretting it immediately. He hated that Mirabel had to be so excited that he finally left the house of his own free well. “Anyways, figured I’d see what you and the other kids are doing.”

“I’m not a kid, tío, I’m a young adult,” Mirabel corrected with a slight waggle of her finger at him. He snickered at that. At least this kid was good at snapping him out of his depressive thoughts - to a degree. “But I’m so glad you’re here! Señora Garcia and I already finished everything up so I was going to go see if Camilo was done babysitting for the Hernandez’s!”

Bruno stopped himself from letting his smile drop a bit at the idea of seeing Camilo. Yes, he loved his sobrino - he would do anything for him - but he knew that the feelings weren’t returned, that Camilo saw him as nothing but a figure from nightmares. But, Mirabel looked so excited to be hanging out with him. He was torn between the idea of pleasing her, and ruining Camilo’s day with his presence. However, Mirabel’s smiling face beginning to droop as he hesitated to answer won him over.

“Alright, alright,” he faked a sigh, acting exasperated at the idea. “I suppose I could join you this once.” Under his ruana, his fingers began tapping at his thigh in a rhythmic pattern. Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap. He had no wood to knock on at the moment, the building being made of brick and stone, but he hoped this would suffice to prevent any bad luck at the encounter. 

After both said farewell to Ms Garcia, receiving a slight ‘huff’ in return, the two began to head down Mirabel’s frequent route to the Hernandez’s. This had been Camilo’s most common job as of late as Señor Hernandez had lost his wife in childbirth, and the baby tended to cry if he wasn’t around. However, as a carpenter with two other young children, he couldn't give the constant attention that the baby - little Carlos - needed. That’s where Camilo’s gift came in handy - by shapeshifting into Señor Hernandez, the man would be able to take some time to either work on his current job or spend time with his other children. It meant that Camilo had extra ‘chore days’, but he seemed to honestly enjoy his work with watching the infant. Not to mention, once Carlos was soothed to sleep, it just gave Camilo time to work on the homework he’d have to do at home without the feeling of his mother, Pepa, watching over his shoulder.

Bruno appreciated that it got Camilo out of the house more, doing something he enjoyed. For a seemingly popular kid in school, he really didn’t seem to hang out with anyone but his family. Even Mirabel would go out and hang out with a few girls from school. Sure, the school was small - a village like theirs only has so many children - but there were a few boys and girls Camilo’s age he could’ve hung out with. 

But, it’s not like Bruno could judge - he’d only ever hung out with his sisters, the other kids in their school following their parent’s influence of believing Bruno to be cursed rather than gifted. He felt horrible that his sister’s had felt forced to distance themselves from some of their friend’s after they were rude or even downright cruel to Bruno, but also felt blessed that they would do that for him. It led to the three of them mostly being together outside of school - well, until they were old enough to date, that is. Then, Pepa found herself being whisked away by a multitude of men, enjoying the affection they would shower on her. Not that Bruno thought that Pepa was shallow for the amount of men she had dated. She’d gone slow with all of them, truly wanting to get to know the boys she was spending her time with. And of course, that all ended once she met Félix. 

Julieta didn’t date as much as Pepa, but not because they didn’t try. She was a bit more picky with who she’d allow to court her, only having a few suitors before she began to be courted by Agustín. However, she did spend more of her time helping out at the local clinic, deciding that she wanted to learn more about the medicine people without her gift used, believing that the knowledge would help her better be able to utilize her gift. It was then that she began experimenting with adding more healing herbs into her baking, which did seem to enhance the scope at which her gift could heal. 

Bruno had spent more and more time alone then, burying himself into better understanding his gift. It was in this time that he perfected the ritual that he uses today… were he to do a ritual nowadays. The last one he’d done was for Mirabel, in an attempt to save the magic. 

Lost in thought, Bruno didn’t notice that Mirabel had been calling his name until he turned to look at her, hood falling off of his head at the motion. He stopped himself from wincing, and quickly tossed the hood back up on his head. He saw Mirabel look at him with what seemed to be pity for a moment, before a smile replaced it. 

“Tío Bruno, I’ve been calling your name for ages!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation. This time Bruno couldn’t hold back the wince, feeling guilty, and causing Mirabel to truly frown. “I mean, not really for ages - it was more like just a few times, don’t worry! It’s not like it was anything important either, I just-.”

“It’s alright, sobrina,” Bruno interrupted, forcing a small smile on his face. “What is it?”

“Oh! Right!” Mirabel pointed ahead of them, adjusting the strap of the embroidered bag on her shoulder. “I was just going to say, we - Camilo and I, that is - were planning on trying to sneak a peek at Dolores and Mariano on their date if we can. Care to join us?” She finished the question with a smirk at her uncle, everyone enjoying getting to gossip about the one who usually spreads it.

“Spy? On my sobrina? Your very own prima? How could you!” he joked, forgetting for a moment that he wasn’t in the safety of la Casita. Mirabel had that effect on him, it seemed, making him feel safe no matter the location… sometimes. He held up the act for a moment, enjoying the chance to use the acting skills he’d enjoyed cultivating so much, before finally saying “...yeah, I’m in.”

With that, they arrived at the Hernandez’s door, just in time to hear Camilo talking to Señor Hernandez, once more insisting that pay wasn’t necessary.

“I’ve told you before,” Camilo said, smile audible in his tone. “I love watching the chiquito, really! Once he thinks I’m you, he’s the sweetest little angel, you’ve done well by him!”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Camilo,” the man replied. “I’m pretty sure mi tesoro would behave even if you didn’t use your gift, now.” Baby Carlos coo’d, likely in the man’s arms, as if in affirmation. “And I’ll find a way to pay you back one day.”

“Not needed,” Camilo responded. “But I’ll be back tomorrow at noon so you can take little María to the doctors.”

“Gracias, again.”

With that, the door before them opened, and Camilo stepped out, already back in his own form by now. He ran a hand through his brown curls before noticing the two before him.

“Oh, hey!” Camilo exclaimed in surprise. “Tío Bruno! I uh, wasn’t expecting you!” 

‘You mean, why are you here,’ Bruno thought, suppressing the urge to frown. He missed the small version of Camilo that had loved his tío’s little plays and skits he’d put on, and the stories he’d tell him to help him fall asleep. Once upon a time there had been no doubt that his sobrino loved him, but now he felt like it’d be impossible to get Camilo to even like him. 

“He finally decided to join us!” Mirabel said, not noticing Bruno’s internal conflict. “He even said he’d help us spy on Dolores and Mariano.”

“I did not say I’d help ,” Bruno explained, trying to snap himself out of it. “I said I’d supervise, as is my job as a responsible adult.” That had Mirabel laughing and even got a slight snicker out of Camilo, causing Bruno to smile as well. 

“First things first,” Camilo said, already heading off down the road. “Food!”

“Of course,” Mirabel muttered with an eye roll, but there was a smile on her face. “Always food with that one.”

“Can’t say I disagree,” Bruno admitted, feeling the hunger of having only had a bit of apple that morning. “I could go for some of you mom’s empanadas right about now.”

“You’re in luck!” she exclaimed, stopping in her tracks. Camilo was already so far ahead he didn’t notice, which was perfect for what she had to show. Out of her bag, she pulled out two perfectly baked empanadas, wrapped in white cloth. “Here, take one!” She grabbed the other for herself before pushing the first towards her uncle once more as he didn’t react. 

“Oh, um, thank you!” he said, eyes wide. He hadn’t expected that. It almost seemed like Mirabel had multiple gifts that she gave to her family - one being that she always seemed to have what you needed in that moment. And right now, an empanada reminded him of all the times Julieta would make them for the triplets after school, the three of them laughing as either Bruno or Pepa tried to help, just making a burnt mess. It was a time when he really felt loved. He took a bite and almost moaned at the taste. They were almost just the same, this recipe being one that had been perfect from the start. “I swear, your mom’s magic isn’t just the healing, it’s the taste.”

Mirabel laughed, before wrapping her remaining half of her own empanada up, tucking it into her satchel as Bruno ate the last bite of his own. “Come on!” she exclaimed, turning back towards the road and taking off at a fast walk. “Camilo’s headed to the food stalls, and he’ll eat himself into a coma if we don’t stop him!

With that, Bruno laughed, and followed after her down the road.

Chapter Text

Having caught up to Camilo fairly easily as the boy was walking at a leisurely pace, the three trekked down the streets in a (mostly) comfortable silence until they reached the food stalls. Once they arrived, Camilo was quick to abandon them for the Lechón stand, leaving the other two to just look around, no longer hungry after their secret snack of one of Julieta’s empanadas. 

“I promised Sra. Garcia I’d bring her some of the Juarez’s new sheep’s wool,” Maribel was saying, having been talking about what she’d done that day with the seamstress. “Supposedly it’s far softer than the other sheep, but I think Sr. Juarez is a little bit of a mentiroso.” Bruno laughed, knowing this to be true about the farmer, who always talked up his newest ‘prized’ feature of his farm, whether it be a new line of papaya he’d had imported or his newest cattle’s exquisite milk. Now, apparently, it was his sheep having the softest wool. He agreed to come with her to deliver the wool once Camilo left to help Luisa - his shapeshifting ability’s power to make him taller paired nicely with her strength at times. 

“First things first,” Camilo said, walking backwards in order to face his cousin and uncle. “It’s time to spy on my sister.” With that, he flashed some finger guns at the two before turning back around and marching out like a man on a mission. Bruno supposed he was, in his own weird, teenage way. Ah, to be a teenager and have nothing better to do than spy on your sister’s dates… not that he ever did that. Nope. 

Mirabel shrugged at her tío before running after Camilo, telling him to hold up. Bruno laughed under his breath before taking off after the two at a bit of a slower pace. Perhaps he was a bit out off shape, but he’d only had so much room to move around between the walls. Sure, his family was shockingly unobservant, allowing him to occasionally sneak out, but even then, he never left the house. Patching the cracks only gave a man so much exercise. 

“Slow down,” he called to them, fairly out of breath as he chased them down the long roads of El Encanto. He heard the two laughing up ahead, having stopped for a moment with big grins on their faces as they looked at their near-wheezing uncle.

“Ey, tío, you look worse than Mirabel when she tries to help out Luisa,” Camilo called out, happy to tease two members of his family at once. He let out a soft ‘oof’ as Mirabel jabbed his ribs with her elbow before making her way towards Bruno.

“Sorry, tío, we’ll slow down the rest of the way.” Bruno felt bad, like he was dampening the excitement the two had, but couldn’t help but feel relieved at the same time. He just didn’t have it in him to run full speed. Or, at all really. 

The three continued at a nice walking pace, Camilo and Mirabel talking about something that had happened in class the other day while Bruno just took in the sites around him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this far from Casita. He… wasn’t really sure how much he liked it, to be honest, but he did enjoy the happy looks Mirabel kept flashing to him as he walked a few paces behind his sobrinos. 

Eventually, the three arrived at a bridge that overlooked the park where Dolores and Mariano were having a picnic. Camilo snickered lightly at seeing candles lit - it was midday - but quickly hushed at Mirabel’s urging. Bruno wasn’t sure why the two were panicking to be quiet - Dolores had shot a look in their direction as soon as they arrived, and surely was aware that they were there to spy on her, but he let the two teenagers have their fun. 

Bruno sat back against the ledge of the bridge while the two continued to spy on Dolores’ date. He wasn’t sure what the appeal was - or even what the appeal had been when he had done it himself once upon a time - but supposed that was a part of growing up. Dios mio , he was turning into one of those lame adults who found no fun in anything, wasn’t he? 

He snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of Camilo’s snickering. Glancing over, he saw Mirabel sticking her tongue out at her primo while he resisted the urge to laugh louder.

“It’s romantic!” Mirabel insisted, in a hushed tone.

“It’s ridiculous,” Camilo replied, barely keeping his tone down.

“If you two don’t be quiet,” Dolores suddenly chimed in from below. “I’ll tell Abuela you were spying on us. Again.” 

This time it was Bruno’s urge to resist a snicker as his sobrino’s eyes widened. Suddenly his arms were grabbed and he was yanked from the bridge by the both of them, nearly tripping over his own feet at the sudden movement. 

“I’m not quite sure what you expected,” he admitted. “Surely she could hear you planning since we left the Hernandez’s.” 

“Well, yeah,” started Camillo. “But sometimes when she’s in a real mushy mood, she’ll tune us out. Guess Mariano needs to try harder.” He shrugged, only to be shoved by Mirabel.

“Or maybe,” she muttered, “SOMEONE needs to be more quiet when we’re watching.” 

“You’re right,” Camilo nodded, surprising Mirabel. “I’ll be sure to put something over your mouth next time we go out.” With that, he ran off before he could be pushed again. Mirabel shook her head and muttered about annoying primos under her breath before turning to Bruno, who had been watching with an amused look on his face.

“So,” she started. “About that wool.”

Arms laden with bags of wool, the pair made their way back towards the Garcia’s shop, Mirabel holding up most of the conversation between the two. Bruno was beginning to grow rather exhausted, having not walked this much in years, and having not been around this many people in longer. He constantly felt eyes on his back, and had caught more than a handful of people look away when he glanced in their direction. Nothing new, but also nothing he’d ever gotten used to. He hated being looked at. 

“Ignore them,” Mirabel muttered, catching her tío looking around once more. “They’re just not used to seeing you anymore, that’s all.” 

But that wasn’t all, was it? Even when they had been used to him, he’d gotten these looks. It wasn’t looks of curiosity, it was ones of disgust, and he knew it. They weren’t curious about his reappearance or where he had been, they were wishing he’d return to wherever he’d hidden himself for the past 10 years. And sometimes - like right now - he wished he could. 

“I think I’ll head back after this,” Bruno said, not realizing he was cutting Mirabel off as she told him another story - just one to fill the silence, aware that her tío wasn’t paying much attention.

“Oh,” she said, a small frown flashing on her face before smiling at him. “Okay, I’ll walk you back!”

“Oh, no, no, there’s no need,” he said, feeling bad about any possibility of upsetting her of ruining her day. But he was just so tired. “I know the way,” he joked, pointing at the always visible Casita up on the hill. 

“I know. But I like spending time with you! And I’m feeling a bit tired myself,” she said, with a clearly fake yawn at the end. 

Not having the energy to argue, Bruno just muttered a quiet ‘thanks’ as the Garcias’ came into view. Mirabel rushed ahead to knock on the door with her foot and call out to the seamstress. By the time Bruno caught up, Sra. Garcia was holding the door open and ushering the two inside, telling them that they could leave the wool on the counter in front and she’d handle it. 

“You’ve already done more than enough today,” Sra. Garcia was saying to Mirabel. “I can handle putting it away. Now shoo, go spend more time with tu familia.” When it looked like Mirabel would insist on helping, she added, “Tomas is here today anyways, he can help with anything I can’t handle.”

As his name was spoke, a man with dark, curly hair stepped out from the back of the shop and placed a few boxes down beside the wool.

“Ah, Mirabel,” he said. “Long time no see.” 

Bruno didn’t wait to hear any more of the conversation, having rushed to place the wool on the counter before muttering words that he thinks made sense before bolting out the door. He remembered the conversation with his mother once more, and felt the sting of a slap against his cheek, despite knowing no one had touched him. 

He didn’t notice as Mirabel made an excuse for her tío and followed him outside. He had gone into the alley beside the Garcia’s and steadily slid down the wall, breath coming in harsh gasps.

“You will not embarrass your familia.”

His madre’s voice sounded so clear in his ears, as though she were whispering them at the moment, and not many years in the past. He had avoided Tomas since his mother’s… ‘talk’ with him all those years ago. Not that there was anything requited there, it had just been Bruno admiring the boy from afar. But any time he saw the boy - now man - he found himself remembering the conversation; remembering the sting on his cheek. 

“Tío?” came a voice, barely breaking through the haze of his own thoughts. He heard his own harsh breathing, and felt his frantic eyes land on his sobrino. He hadn’t noticed her follow him from the store and into the alley. Hadn’t even noticed himself sliding all the way to the ground ,curling up and holding his knees to his chest. 

“A-ah, Mirabel,” he rushed out between gasps. “Wh-why don’t you go back inside, o-or h-head out to your f-friends.” Anything to get her not to see him like this. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, determination in her voice. Suddenly she softened, and pulled one of his hands from where it had been gripping his own leg. “But I need you to tell me what just happened. Please.” 

“It’s stupid,” Bruno admitted, ducking his head against his knees and refusing to look at her. 

“No, it’s not,” she pushed, “not if it has you feeling like this.”

He took a deep breath, and held it before releasing it. He repeated this process a few times, all the while Mirabel sat patiently, staring at him with soft, kind eyes. Too kind, he almost couldn’t take it. He knew he’d have to tell her, or she’d never let it go. Kind, but determined . 

“I’ll tell you. But you have to promise me to never bring it up again.” He saw Mirabel bite her lip. As she opened her mouth, looking ready to disagree, he pushed further. “I mean it, Mirabel. I don’t want to talk about it again, but if you really want to know, I’ll tell you.”

“Okay.”