Chapter Text
Bruno sucked in enough air to fill both his lungs and took long strides forward. He'd been thinking about this all night; using his gift to make sure this was the right choice. However, he only saw new scenes from the strange rodent-play his ability apparently really wanted him to see. But he supposed it was relevant. A character in it lead the life he aspired for and was accepted by his family; surely that was a good sign.
He took some more (stalling) deep breaths before rounding the corner to greet his mother, who was hunched over the kitchen table: fixing up holes in one of Pepa's dresses.
“What is it, cariño?” she asked. Eyes never leaving the needle.
Better cut straight to the chase. She's busy.
Okay, Bruno... you can do this! You can do this, you can do this! Just like we practiced. Ready? Speak now in:
3,
2,
1-
“W-well, you know how Pepa got a boyfriend and- well, maybe Juli might get one soon? And then you’d probably-"
“Do you have a girlfriend, Bruno?” Alma’s head snapped up and away from her work. An unfamiliar look was in her eyes and it made Bruno stutter back in fear.
“Who is she?” She asked. Voice small and-
Did she look... anxious?
Isn't that my thing? His brain quipped, a bit angrily; she’d previously implied that that was an imperfection of his.
He waved his hands, trying to shoo away her sudden disappointment, as well as his awful thoughts regarding his madre.
“Ur- no, no I don’t, that’s what I came to talk to you about." He tilted his head as his face began careening towards the floor; breaking into a nervous smile.
His mother sighed to herself. Relieved. She adjusted the cuffs of her blouse before folding her hands in perfect, stoic silence, then she cleared her throat:
“Alright? What is it, then?” her voice was steely as she peered down at him from barely-open eyes, face so upright and regale it made Bruno cough into his chest.
“Ya-you know how Señor Flores doesn’t have a wife or-or anything like that?”
Alma raised an eyebrow.
“Of course, he doesn’t. He’s a priest.”
Her son laughed anxiously; then started to twirl the fabric of his ruana around his skeletal fingers. Alma tapped them away, unhappy with his childish fiddling. Her touch might have lingered on his knuckles for a bit too long however...
She needed to fatten him up.
“Hmm-" Bruno pulled his fingers away and played it off like he was itchy: quickly brushing his palms up and down the sides of his torso. "‐and I know I’m not one... but I do go to church every Sunday! And I’ve been consulting God!" He added proudly.
"I think I’d like to... live a life of celibacy! No romance or anything- anything that comes with it...!” Alma didn’t miss the disgust that washed over his face as he said that. “... is... that okay...?”
For a moment, his rapid heartbeat was all he could hear.
“Oh, Brunito! Such a martyr you are!” Alma smiled. The black shawl she mostly covered her arms with, billowed around her shoulders when she clasped her hands together in glee. Glee that was much greater than she allowed herself to show. After all, no-one could truly be good enough for her son.
That and he was too young. Even though she knew he was the same age as his sisters... Still. He still needed her. He was only a bebé.
“That’s brilliant, mi amor!”
“It- it is?”
“Yes! Such a noble sacrifice for our miracle, well done, tesoro!”
She let some of her bold exterior slide and part of her mothering nature step forth because; she pulled Bruno towards her, hugging him in congratulations. Bruno on the other hand... swallowed thickly. A cloud of guilt consuming him like one of Pepa’s rainstorms: from head to toe.
“Ur- heh, heh yeah... sacrifice...”
Was it really a sacrifice if he'd never wanted what he was sacrificing in the first place? He hadn't expected this- or for her to take his words and come up with this meaning. He truly wanted to come clean about a part of himself. He wanted to share and get her respect... acceptance, just by being like this. There was no elaborate reason for this, this was just what he wanted.
Wasn't that enough?
“You’ll have to put more time into your work now, you do realise!" Alma pulled away and held him at an arms length. Her fingers lay atop his protruding collarbones before shifting obviously. "No matchmaking excuses for you, Brunito. If you choose to be treated as a prophet, you must honour the lifestyle of one. Understand? You are married to your work now.”
There was that tone again. The one that demanded order and attention; Bruno was a vertebrae but in moments like these, he had no backbone.
“Oh urm, yes mamá, of course.”
“Good boy, I’ll go inform the village right away.” she smiled.
Just before turning around she cupped his cheek. Bruno’s mouth went dry in confusion and longing. He wanted desperately to feel loved by his mother and she was looking at him with such gentle eyes and stroking his face with such tender warmth... He normally shyed away from eye contact but now, he stared at her with expecting, wide sockets...
“My little prophet...”
Then she was gone.
He sighed. That's not what he wanted her to say...
His eyes moved to the yellow sneaking into his peripheral; unsurprisingly, he was now gazing down at his sister and Félix, giggling and kissing underneath a beautiful double rainbow. He was happy for his sister and he actually liked Félix... but ew. At least he wouldn't have to be doing any of that.
He managed a smile. Mentally preparing for the onslaught of clients his mother's announcement would surely bring...