Chapter Text
Mirabel.
She wants to make her family proud. She loves them so much, and so boldly, an homage to each of them embroidered on her clothes. She thinks she's hurting them. She thinks it's her responsibility to save them. She's fifteen years old.
He's embarrassed that she has to see him like this, but he's never really been any other way. He allows her into his room, lets her look at the structures he's built onto the walls and ceiling for the rats to climb on. She's uncomfortable but not horrified. He shows her the TV he made, sings the praises of his kitchen-adjacent room, tries to distract her from the depressing life he's constructed for himself. She sees right through him immediately.
She does have a gift. He catches onto that very quickly. She sees right into you, sees your flaws, holds them in her hands. Gently. In all her awkwardness, her eagerness to please, she grabs onto what you hate about yourself and doesn't let go. Brings it into the light and shows it to you without judgement. She's the best of them.
The family reunion thing is…. a lot for him. He knows everyone there, of course, but his presence is a novelty for everyone else. And he's always hated being the center of attention.
When they start constructing the new house, Bruno quietly finds a way to be helpful before anyone has a chance to talk to him. He has the extremely niche skill of very accurately drawing shapes on the ground with sand, and he also knows the exact size and shape of every room in their house. Six paces, knock knock knock knock knock (this time in his mind because there isn't any wood), another six paces. If anyone else does it, the shapes of the rooms might be slightly wrong, and it will bother him for literally the rest of his life.
When the real construction is underway, of course, Bruno can make the plaster. It isn't too different from the spackle he used to try to hold the house together. Only with a bucket on his head, though. The bucket is a critical step. With his fluffy hair filling the space between his skull and the inside of the metal bucket, he is perfectly cocooned in his own dark, quiet world. He hums to himself, his own voice echoing in his ears as he sits cross-legged on the ground and mixes the dry ingredients and the water for hours. People come by to ask for plaster and he always has more for them.
Mirabel is the first person to come check on him as the first day of construction wraps up. He sees the familiar pair of magenta shoes, then her bunched up skirt as she kneels in front of him. Bruno sets aside his trowel and lifts the rim of the bucket high enough to peek out.
"Are you doing okay, Tío Bruno?" she asks him quietly. Her face is sweaty and flushed, her clothes dirty from working on the house, but she looks at him attentively with a smile on her lips.
Bruno hasn't spoken for hours, so instead of jumping straight to verbal speech he shoots her a grin and a thumbs-up.
"C'mon, Bruno." Mirabel laughs, knocking gently on his bucket. "You had a big day…. saving me from the horrible wrath of Abuela this morning…" Bruno feels his face flush. "Talking to the family for the first time in a decade…. what's on your mind?"
Bruno sighs, instinctively pinches some salt out of his shirt pocket and tosses it over his shoulder as he gets ready to talk.
"This doesn't feel real," he confesses to her quietly. "Our house…. look at it." He gestures at the wreckage around them, the people milling around their home rebuilding the walls and constructing tiles for the new floors.
Mirabel kneels next to him, not touching him, but close enough that he could lean against her if he wanted.
"It's sad," she says quietly. "We've lived here for our whole lives, and now it's gone. We're rebuilding it, but…. yeah."
"Yeah," Bruno echoes. They sit quietly for a while, and finally Bruno does lean against her. She finds one of his hands in hers and sighs, resting her head on his shoulder.
"I don't deserve this," he finally says, in response to Mirabel's initial line of questioning. "Everything this family has been through…. I haven't been helping. I haven't been doing anything. I've just been stealing their food and watching. But they won't even let me apologize for it. Or anything else I've done to this family." He takes in a surprisingly shaky breath, then lets out a huge sigh. "This is all my fault. All of it."
"I couldn't have done this without you, Tío Bruno," Mirabel counters. "But…. I know how you feel. Because from my perspective, it's all my fault. I know it isn't, really, but…." she waves her free hand vaguely, like she's shooing a bug away. "But anyway. It isn't anyone's fault, really. Especially not yours. It's just easier for people to have someone to blame, I think. And for what it's worth, I don't think anyone blames you. Not anymore, at least. We're all just happy you're here."
"I'm sorry for leaving," Bruno mumbles. "I… honestly…. didn't think anyone would care that much. If I left. It's not like I was super involved in things anyway. But I think I really hurt you guys by leaving." He pulls the bucket back down over his face, the lights and noises having become too much for him.
"You did hurt us," Mirabel says quietly. Bruno breathes in sharply, hearing it echoing in his bucket. "I understand why you did it, though," she continues. "I mean…. I thought about leaving, too. But you did really hurt a lot of people. My parents were really sad when you left. My sisters too. And Tía Pepa. And.... Abuela too."
"Thank you for saying so," Bruno finally manages to say after a few moments of silence. He swallows. "Can I make a confession?" Mirabel hums affirmatively. "Okay. Um. I just really hate getting yelled at. Like, I will throw up if someone yells at me, literally. Especially Abuela. And I knew if I didn't leave she was gonna end up yelling, so…"
He trails off with a quiet laugh, and waits for Mirabel to start laughing too. Because it is a little bit funny. But instead, after a moment, she squeezes his hand and carefully lifts the bucket off his head, slowly enough that he can stop her if he wants, so she can look into his eyes.
"Tío Bruno, that's horrible," she says quietly.
"Yeah, well." Bruno shrugs. "I'm a coward, really."
"No, no…." She takes both his hands. "This morning…. you were really brave. You thought she was gonna be mad, but you stood up to her anyway. For me. So, thank you."
"Well, yeah…." Bruno shrugs. "I-I didn't eat breakfast, so it's not like I was gonna puke or anything…" He grins sheepishly when she finally laughs. Then she leans in and hugs him tightly. He hesitates for a moment, then returns the hug.
"Hey," she says, when she finally pulls away. "Abuela and Mamá have been helping with dinner at the Guzmans' house. It's probably almost ready. Wanna go check on 'em with me?"
"Sure," says Bruno, allowing her to pull him up from the ground.
"And Bruno?"
"Yeah?"
"You should apologize to my mom. For leaving. She's gonna say it's fine, but I think she would appreciate it anyway."
"Yeah." Bruno sighs. "I should. Thanks, kiddo. I think I kinda needed someone to agree with me, that I did something wrong. Just a little bit."
"Don't get used to it," says Mirabel, giving him a friendly punch in the arm. "You're a good guy, you know."
Bruno tries not to eat too quickly at dinner. It's the first time he's had Julieta's cooking fresh and hot, not dry and lukewarm, in ten years. He closes his eyes and rocks back and forth, chewing each bite slowly as the family chatters around him. Even though Julieta's magic is gone, he still feels the energy of her cooking tingle into his limbs and fingers and fill him with warmth. Mirabel and Antonio sit on each side of him, both knowing better than to try to involve him in the conversation.
He's hoping to catch Julieta alone after dinner, but she quickly jumps to clearing the table and tidying up. Bruno tries to help, but he keeps getting in the way instead. After he crashes into Luisa, almost causing her to drop all the plates, he resigns himself to sitting back at the table and finishing his glass of wine instead. Mirabel comes by to wipe the table with a damp cloth. She shoots him a knowing look and returns to the kitchen. A few moments later, Julieta appears and sits down beside him. The rest of the family has mysteriously disappeared into the kitchen, speaking to each other in hushed voices as they wash the dishes.
"Hey," he mumbles, finding himself fidgeting with the ragged corner of his ruana. He glances at his sister and flashes her a quick smile, then looks back down at the table. His arm and hand seem to take on a mind of their own, and he finds himself knocking along the edge of the table, then bonking his head as his mouth forms the words. "Knock knock knock knock knock. Knock on wood." He crosses his fingers and holds his breath, then turns back to look at his sister when he's done. She's smiling at him affectionately.
Bruno has always marveled at the fact that Julieta is the same age as him. She's so strong, so mature, such a pillar of the community even from a young age. This has only become more pronounced over time, and the way she has raised her three daughters into such bright and strong young women while maintaining such a strong presence in the town is a miracle unto itself. She's so patient, too; she just sits with her chin resting in her hand and allows Bruno to look at her until he's ready to speak.
"Julieta…." he finally says. His voice cracks unexpectedly and he closes his eyes, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyelids to try to stop the tears from forming. He hears his sister's chair scoot closer to him and feels her hand on his shoulder. He lets himself fall into her arms and presses his face into her shoulder as shuddering sobs wrack his body.
"Sorry, sorry," he mumbles when he's done, rubbing his eyes and sniffling. Julieta pulls a handkerchief out of her pocket and hands it to him silently. She sits patiently as Bruno mops his face and blows his nose, then clears his throat and sits up straighter.
"Julieta, I want to apologize." He holds up a hand to stop her as she opens her mouth to speak, and she closes her mouth again. "I know you're gonna say I didn't do anything wrong, and I appreciate that, I really do. And…. and maybe I did do the best I could. I don't know. But I left you. With no explanation. And for that… I will honestly never forgive myself.
"This family…. is so important to me. And, and I knew where you were, I knew you were okay, but I didn't extend the same courtesy to you. So, I'm sorry."
"Brunito…." Julieta takes his hand and hugs it to her chest. Tears shimmer in her eyes. "I missed you so much. I didn't know if I'd be able to live without you. And, yes, I was angry at you for a while, because I always hoped you knew you could talk to me. And you just… didn’t. You just disappeared. And you had me thinking, maybe this was my fault. Because I was so focused on taking care of everyone else, I stopped taking care of you.”
“You never needed to take care of me.”
“Oh, give me a break,” Julieta grumbles. Then she gasps and covers her mouth, looking horrified. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Yeah, you did.” Bruno sighs and lowers his forehead down to rest it on the edge of the wooden table. “It’s okay, Julieta. But I’m an adult, you know. I mean, I’m 50 years old. I know I can be kinda immature and sensitive or whatever and you wanna protect me from the world, but you can’t, and you don’t have to. So please don’t try. I need help sometimes, but I’m not your burden to carry.”
“You’re not a burden,” Julieta says quietly.
“I try really, really hard not to be.” He tilts his head to peer up at her without lifting his head off the table. “Can’t you see that? That’s why I need you to let me apologize.”
Julieta gazes sadly at him for a minute, then nods.
“I understand. And I accept your apology. Just please don't leave ever again."
"I won't." Bruno's lip quivers again and he bites it to keep it still. "I couldn't."
"Good." Julieta pulls him into another hug, this time for herself. She rests her face in the crook of his shoulder and squeezes him tightly as he rubs circles on her back. "Mi hermanito. I can't believe you're really here."
"Me neither," Bruno says honestly. "But it's nice to be here."