Chapter Text
That first night back in Casita was like something out of a dream.
The entirety of the Encanto, it seemed like, had filed into their home for the party to end all parties. The pressing crowd didn't make Bruno feel particularly comfortable, but fortunately most people preferred to enjoy the celebration far away from him.
Bruno spent the majority of the evening doing one of his very favorite things of all; dancing with his family. He stumbled a little, it must be confessed, as he pulled his mother into a fast merengue. He hadn't danced properly in so long that he was afraid that he'd forgotten how. But when he settled back into the groove of things, he was off.
He danced with the entire family (barring Antonio, who was busy with his deadly friends); hustling Julieta into a slow cumbia by way of his most appealing puppy-dog eyes, spinning Pepa in the fastest salsa that they could manage until they were gasping for air. Bruno cha-cha'd with Felix, to much commentary from the sobrino peanut gallery, and then rumba'd with Agustin to even more enthusiastic catcalling.
Bruno stumbled out of his last dance sweaty and exhausted, to flop into a chair next to Isabela. She chuckled softly at how obviously worn out he was.
"I didn't know that you could dance like that, Tío," Isabela grinned, kindly pouring him a glass of water. He accepted it gratefully, clearing it in one long drink.
"Sure you did," he countered when he was finished, climbing back to his feet. "You saw me dance all the time when you were little. As a matter of fact, I taught you how to dance."
"Tía Pepa taught me how to dance," Isabela retorted. Bruno rolled his eyes, extending a hand to her as he bowed elegantly at the waist. Confused, she took his hand, and was surprised when he swept her into a spinning twirl. Was he really trying to do a pasodoble?
"Pepa taught you a dance," he corrected, somehow managing to talk and move them seamlessly into a cumbia without falling flat on his face. "I taught you and Dolores how to dance!"
Bruno waltzed her back to her seat, leaving Isabela confused and laughing as he effortlessly (and a little rudely) sidestepped in between Dolores and Mariano, leading her cousin into a rousing flamenco as the tall man tried to figure out what had happened.
"Looks like they're having fun," Camilo said blandly as he dropped into the chair that their uncle had just vacated. "Was it fun?"
"Was what fun?" Isabela asked, as if she didn't know. If she had to guess, she would say that Camilo may actually be a little jealous.
"You know. Dancing. With him, I mean. Just 'cause he looks like he knows what he's doing," he replied, frowning as Bruno returned Dolores to her previous dance partner and began a frankly absurd joropo with Mirabel. For such a small guy, he never seemed to get tired.
"Oh!" Isabela smiled. "Yes, I suppose he does. I really enjoyed it. Do you want to dance with Tío Bruno too?"
Camilo flushed, shaking his head. "Nah, I don't--I don't really know the guy. I just thought, you know, it looked like fun."
"You can just ask him to dance with you, you know," she said seriously, watching as her tiny uncle tried to waltz with Luisa. He was doing a damn good job of it, too. Somehow. "He loves you."
"Yeah, right," Camilo sulked. He straightened up as Bruno, Mirabel, and Luisa shuffled their way over to the table, laughing and bumping shoulders.
"Having fun?" he asked, trying hard not to sound bitter. He just wanted...he didn't know what he wanted. He wanted to dance, but didn't want to have to ask. He guessed that he just wanted to be wanted.
"Yes!" the group chorused back, scrambling for glasses of water.
"So, Camilo," Bruno wheezed, looking pretty tired, if Camilo was being honest. "Do you know how to tango?"
"What?" Camilo blinked in surprise, sure that he had heard wrong. "Do I- tango? I, uh, I guess."
Bruno surprised him further by bowing low at the waist, extending a hand in the same way that he had to Isabela. Camilo took it, feeling a little unsure.
"You uh...this might be kind of awkward," he muttered as his uncle led them to the center of the courtyard. "What with us being two guys. Want me to turn into a girl?"
"Do you want to turn into a girl?" Bruno countered, making some sort of mystical gesture towards the band. Camilo froze, eyes wide. Did his uncle suspect--did he know somehow, that he--
"Nuh-no!" he denied fervently, shaking his hands. "I'm fine, uh, just the way I am. It's just that you can't. Uh. Be a girl."
"So?" Bruno shrugged, grasping his hands suddenly. "Do you want to lead, or follow?"
"Uh, you lead," Camilo gulped as the music started. He was feeling pretty off-kilter, anxious even, He sort of wished that he'd declined the offer to dance, jealousy or no jealousy.
And then he learned that not only was Tío Bruno excellent at the tango, but that he liked to tango fast. Camilo had no time to ruminate on his worries as he was dipped, spun, twirled, and lifted so quickly that he could barely keep up. By the time the song was over, Camilo was exhausted. Yet somehow his uncle was still so full of energy that he practically buzzed, and he had been dancing all night!
"Was it fun?" Isabela smirked at him as they watched their uncle try to coax their Abuela into another dance. There was a beat of silence as they watched her accept with a laugh, and then somehow manage to actually keep up with Bruno's preternaturally quick moves.
"I guess," Camilo finally said, unable to fully suppress his smile. He was going to need to step up his tango game if he wanted to out-dance his uncle. So he grabbed Mirabel by the hand and dragged her out onto the floor, because no way was he going to be a worse dancer than a man in his fifties.
--
By the time the party wound down to a close, it was close to morning. One by one the guests filed out, and one by one the children made their way to bed.
"Where is Bruno?" Alma yawned, having lost sight of her boy in the last hour of the fiesta. No one knew, and a small thread of panic jolted through her as she feared that he had disappeared on her again. She knew that he had promised that he wouldn't do it again, but that fear (blood in the water, her son's dark door, Casita falling down around her and Mirabel was still inside) would not leave her until she found him at last, fast asleep on one of the couches.
She laughed softly to herself. He looked so very cute like this, flat on his back with his mouth open and an arm across his eyes. Bruno had slept in this way ever since he was just a little boy, and it soothed something in her heart to see that it hadn't changed.
"Agustin, Felix, will you two make sure that he gets to bed?" Alma asked softly, rubbing at her tired eyes. The two men nodded, and she thanked them gratefully before heading off to bed herself.
Agustin gently lifted Bruno into his arms, frowning as he realized how little his cuñado weighed. He shared a look with his wife, holding her gaze for a long moment, before sighing. Without a word, he carried Bruno off in the direction of his and Julieta's room, rather than the seer's own.
"Just for tonight," Pepa assured Felix, kissing him lovingly. "We just..."
"You don't want him to wake up alone, mi amor," Felix beamed back, caressing her cheek. "It's just one of the things that I love about you, how much you care for this family."
"Thank you, mi corazón," Julieta whispered as her husband softly settled her brother into their bed. Agustin smiled, giving her a gentle kiss.
"It's no problem," he grinned, bumping her shoulder with his own. "Take care of him. It's about time that we all did, really."
With tears in her eyes, Julieta whispered, "I don't know what I would do without you."
"Have to cook less," Pepa interrupted them, kicking off her shoes. Julieta and Agustin laughed, sharing one last kiss before he went out to bunk with Felix. Julieta followed her sister's lead, changing into her nightclothes and crawling in on Bruno's other side. She wrapped her arms around her sleeping brother, narrowing her eyes as she did so.
"Pepa?" she hissed softly. Pepa raised her head, looking more awake than she had just moments before.
"Do you feel that?" Julieta continued, pointing at their brother. Pepa nodded sadly, lying back down as she too cuddled closer to Bruno. Bruno, who had danced the night away in what felt like layers upon layers of shirts. Bruno, who was somehow still shivering despite the multitude of clothes and the body heat surrounding him.
Bruno, who perhaps was not doing as well as they had all believed.
Julieta snuggled into the triplet cuddle pile, but it was a long time before she slept.
--
When Bruno woke up, he couldn't move. He panicked briefly, trying to struggle his way to freedom, when he registered a very familiar set of snores.
He glanced to his right and saw Julieta, one arm flung around his middle and her head on his shoulder. She looked very young in her sleep; carefree and relaxed enough to snore loudly.
On Bruno's left, of course, lay Pepa. She too had a firm grip on her brother; her arm was stretched across his chest like a safety restraint, one hand firmly clutching the shoulder on which Julieta rested, Pepa's hand securely pillowed beneath Julieta's cheek. Pepa must have been having a nice dream, because the room was lit with a gentle morning light that made his sister look radiant.
He thought about trying to wiggle his way out of their clutches, but eventually decided against it. They looked so peaceful that he didn't want to ruin it. Besides, he had really overdone it with all of the dancing the night before, and his body felt pretty stiff and sore.
With a resigned sigh, Bruno drifted off happily.
--
Mirabel woke up with a start, unsure for a moment about where she was. She fumbled beside herself in search of her glasses, feeling quite relieved when she found them.
She sat up, her eyes trying to focus on the confusing myriad of bright colors that were invading her senses. When they at last did, she remembered that she and Luisa had decided to stay in Isabela's room last night, and the colors were flowers. Beautiful, bright, interesting flowers in every color that one could imagine. They made the room smell amazing too; clean and fresh and lovely, like a spring morning.
"G'back sleep," a groggy voice rumbled from beside her. Mirabel turned to see Isabela face-down in the soft purple sheets. Luisa lay on Mirabel's other side, hands cupped behind her head as she contemplated the ceiling. She looked like she had been awake for hours.
Ignoring Isabela was a life-long habit of Mirabel's, and it hadn't been broken in a few months of hugging. Instead, she threw her legs over the side of the bed and jumped off, ready to start the day.
She had an intense feeling of deja vu as she found herself dangling from Luisa's hand, several dozen feet off of the ground. Mirabel stared incomprehensively at her impending flowery doom.
"Why are your hands always so sweaty?" Luisa complained, effortlessly dragging Mirabel back to safety.
Mirabel ignored that, too, roughly shaking Isabela awake. Her eldest sister rolled onto her back with a groan, trying in vain to shoo Mirabel away.
"We want to get down, Señorita Perfecta," Mirabel smirked, grinning even wider when Isabela sat up with a huff. Still, the bed descended, even as Isabela launched herself at Mirabel, tickling her mercilessly.
"Luisa! Help!" she giggled desperately, trying to crawl away from Isabela's unyielding grip.
"Isa? Did you hear something?" Luisa smirked, making no effort to rescue her sister.
"Nope," Isabela declined, cranking up the tickles as Mirabel shrieked for mercy. "Maybe it was just an annoying little bug."
When Mirabel was finally granted a reprieve, she scowled up at her sisters as she panted for breath. "You are the worst sisters in the entire world."
"You know, maybe I did hear something," Isabela said, eyes narrowed.
"Yeah, it kind of sounded like, 'I am a brat, please tickle me until I cry'," Luisa threatened, curling her hands into claws. Mirabel threw her hands up in surrender, making all of them collapse into giggles.
"Come on!" Mirabel demanded once she could breathe. "I'm starving. Let's see if we still have time to have breakfast."
--
There was still breakfast left when the girls made it downstairs, but they weren't sure if they wanted to eat it. Especially not when their father came out of the kitchen, wearing their mother's apron and whistling cheerfully.
"Mi tresórs!" Agustin cried with delight, gesturing in their direction with the heavy, steaming plates in his hands. That sight was enough to make all three of them very nervous indeed, and they rushed to relieve him of his burden.
"Go on and have a seat!" he told them, oblivious to the catastrophe that they had saved him from. "Breakfast, well really it's brunch time now, will be ready as soon as your Tío Felix finishes with the eggs?"
He was gone before they could respond, the three of them exchanging worried looks as they slowly slid into their seats. Mirabel locked eyes with Camilo, who was already seated, worry evident in his eyes.
"What's going on?" she whispered, keeping a nervous eye on the doorway. Her primo shrugged, looking despondent as he clutched his rumbling stomach.
"Our moms and Tío Bruno are still asleep," Dolores said softly as she entered the room, taking her seat beside her brother. Antonio, who had come with her, crawled sleepily into Mirabel's lap. She smiled at the little boy as he leaned up against her.
"Can our dads even cook?" Camilo begged to know, wilting like an unwatered flower when she shrugged. He straightened up immediately when their Abuela appeared, taking her seat with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"So my lazy children are still in bed, hm?" she smirked, seeming utterly unsurprised when Agustin and Felix finally emerged from the kitchen, laden with dishes of food. Mirabel wasn't filled with hope at the sight of the spread; there was a bowl of strange brownish soup that she'd never seen before served to each of them, as well as large platters filled with avocado, beans, rice, and fried eggs. She even spied some strange fried creations that were sort of the same shape as ears of corn.
"What is this?" Camilo finally dared to ask, dragging his spoon through the brown soup. He made a face as he did so, looking up at Mirabel and mouthing what she thought might have been "It's so thick".
"Aguapanela con queso?" Agustin responded, blinking owlishly behind his glasses. "Surely you've had this before? Your Papá grew up on it."
Camilo shook his head, looking a little queasy. To take the pressure off of him, Mirabel cut in.
"What are the fried things, Pá?" she inquired, noting absently that her grandmother had already served herself a few of the strange shapes.
Felix gasped in mock outrage, breaking open one of them and showing the cheesy center. "Agustin, your niña doesn't know what a carimañola is!"
Mirabel felt her face turning red, and was surprised to hear Isabela almost snap at the adults.
"Of course she doesn't know what it is!" she said firmly, glaring at the two men. "Mamá is the only person who has ever made breakfast for Mirabel in her entire life!"
For a moment, no one said anything. Agustin looked torn between chastising her and giving Isabela a hug, while Felix simply looked guilty.
"Aí Díos, someone has made the volcán erupt!" a cheerful voice called from the doorway. They all turned to see Bruno yawning in the doorway, grinning a little at Isabela as he made his way to his seat. He quickly served himself a ridiculously small portion of rice and beans, smaller even than the amount that Mirabel had made up for Antonio. Against her will, she felt her teeth begin to grind together.
"That's not true though, Isa!" Bruno continued, running his fork through his rice. "When you all were tiny, we would tuh-take turns making meals. So Mirabel has had your father's cooking, and your Tío Felix's, and even mine."
"Not my mom's, though?" Camilo cut in, unwilling to let his mother be forgotten. He was confused to see Bruno's and Abuela's faces as he mentioned his mother's cooking; they looked both horrified and amused.
"No," they said as one, before grinning at each other. "Never again!"
"It was one time!" Pepa snapped as she and Julieta finally made their way to the table, a small cloud forming above her head as she ruffled Bruno's hair when she walked by him. He only laughed in response.
"And yet somehow, forty years later, I still can't get the taste of garlic out of my mouth!" Bruno teased, finally taking a forkful of food. Mirabel frowned thoughtfully as the rest of the adults laughed. At least things were beginning to feel a little normal around here.
And she had to admit, this was the most fun she'd had at the table in a long time.
--
"Alright, Sobrino Squad!" Mirabel said loudly, much later in the afternoon. She had politely informed the parents that it was about time for some grandkid bonding, and that if anyone needed them, they would all be in Dolores' room. And could someone pretty please play with Anotonio while they did, because they were having Important Grownup Conversations that he was just too little for.
"And that worked?" Camilo wondered, impressed. He was lying on Dolores' comfortable bed, throwing one of her thick pillows into the air and then catching it.
"Pretty much. Mamá wanted to know if that was code for us coming in here to talk about boys," Mirabel grinned back, pacing the floor with a sense of purpose.
"We technically are," Dolores agreed. She was on the floor, letting Luisa paint her nails for her while Isabela examined her wardrobe. She would be having her first real date with Mariano that evening, and was feeling a little nervous. She was happy that her primas had volunteered to help her get ready. "I mean, we're only talking about one boy, but I don't think that Tío Bruno was exactly what your mom had in mind, Mirabel."
"Semantics," she waved off, putting her hands on her hips as she addressed the room. "So! I think that it's about time that we, the Madrigal grandkids, finally talked about Tío Bruno."
There followed the sweet, sweet sound of collective groans at her terrible joke. Mirabel basked in their agony before finally getting serious.
"I have a couple of things on my list, and they're pretty important, but does anyone else want to go first?" she asked. She was a little startled when Isabela decided to speak up first, sticking her head out of Dolores' closet.
"I saw him having a panic attack a few days after Casita fell," she said seriously, not looking at any of them. "So we should keep an eye out for things that make him nervous."
"Right, like we do for me!" Luisa said cheerfully. She still wasn't completely comfortable with relying on the rest of them to help take care of her, especially the younger ones, but she was really trying. "Uhm, I think that might be kind of hard, though. Sometimes I think that everything makes Tío Bruno nervous."
"And what's with the knocking?" Camilo cut in, sounding frustrated. "I don't even know if he knows that he does it, but he does it like, all of the time."
"He's always done that," Dolores said thoughtfully, holding her freshly-painted nails up for Isabela to examine. "Ever since I can remember, anyway. I would hear his heartbeat get fast, and then he would knock on wood six times. It was always six times, I know that for a fact. His heart would calm down after that, usually."
Mirabel nodded, looking a little sad, "He's really superstitious, guys. When I saw him in his room, he had bowls of salt all over the place. Sugar, too."
"He holds his breath sometimes, and crosses his fingers," Luisa acknowledged. "It's kind of odd, but I don't think its a problem or anything. He's just, you know. Superstitious, like you said, Mira."
"Maybe, and maybe not," the younger girl hesitated before barreling straight on, "He doesn't eat."
"Of course he eats," Isabela denied hotly. "He'd be dead if he didn't eat. He just doesn't eat everything in sight like Camilo does."
"Hey!" Camilo snapped, throwing the pillow at his cousin with enough force to make a satisfying thwack. "I'm a growing boy! He's obviously not getting any taller, but I am!"
"Time out, you two!" Luisa surprised them all by actually yelling. "I want you both to take a breath, and then apologize to each other. I don't know what you guys are mad about, but you're not gonna take it out anybody."
Mirabel had to admit that she was impressed by the way her meek sister took charge, and was even more so when the two hotheads actually did apologize to each other. Isabela looked especially guilty, although she didn't say anything else for a while.
"He really doesn't eat very much," Mirabel repeated firmly. "I've been watching him at meals, and it's a little weird. Today for breakfast he only had a bite of rice, and I didn't see him eat anything at dinner. But I know that he had a whole bowl of changua the other day, because Abuela made him feel bad about taking too long to eat it."
There was a beat of contemplative silence before Dolores made the sound. The soft, "Eep!" that was a sure sign that she had some knowledge that everyone else didn't. Mirabel held her prima's gaze until the girl reluctantly spilled the beans.
"He gets sick, sometimes," she whispered nervously, tapping her fingertips together. "When he eats a lot. Or, well, anything really. He throws up."
"How often does he get sick after a meal?" Isabela demanded suddenly, sharing a look with Dolores as if the pair understood something that the rest of them didn't.
"Almost every time."
Isabela's cold stare confirmed Mirabel's suspicions, although she was a little afraid to ask what her sister thought was wrong with their uncle. She had wanted to bring up the thing with Hernando and Jorge, because she really didn't understand what was going on there either, but she was beginning to think that this eating problem might be more serious than she had initially thought.
"How do we help him?" Mirabel asked softly. Isabela sighed, rubbing at her forehead as if she had a migraine.
"I have an idea," she mumbled, sounding more nervous than Mirabel had ever heard her, "but I don't think that you're going to like it."
--
Bruno spent his first full day back home doing very little, it must be confessed. This was because he was too busy fighting off a vision.
It was habit, now, to stave off the future. He no longer even thought about why he did it. Unfortunately, it was no longer such an easy feat, and he didn't know why. During the few precious months in which he no longer possessed a gift, perhaps he had gotten too comfortable.
It had been nice, he reflected, knocking on the wooden banister and then his head. No, it had been wonderful, not having the horrible throbbing headaches that preluded his prophecies, or the debilitating migraines that followed them. It had been delightful to be able to sleep at night and not have his dreams invaded by horrific fates. It had been the pinnacle of his life, not having the future thrust upon him.
'You should have known better, Bad-luck Bruno,' that horrible voice said sympathetically.
Bruno sighed, leaning against the stair railing beside him. He had been climbing the stairs when the vision hit him, trying to muster up the courage to look into his room. He knew that he would have to do it eventually. He couldn't sleep in Julieta's bed forever. He just...he didn't want to see it. He didn't want to step through the falling sand and see that bleak and empty room. He didn't want to face all of those awful stairs, either.
He cried out as his eyes began to glow, his head pounding a staccato beat. His fingers curled in on themselves, blindly seeking out the banister.
"Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock," Bruno mumbled to himself, then rapped on the side of his head with all of the force that he could muster, "Knock on wood!"
The force of the knock made his head spin, made him retch, but the vision receded. He dragged his knees to his chest--a precarious position to be in on the steps, but Casita refused to let him fall--and buried his hands in his hair, tugging lightly on the locks. He breathed in deeply, holding the breath until he could hold it no longer, and slowly exhaled.
"Bruno?" a voice called from behind him, making him jump. His hands fell to his sides as he looked over his shoulder to see Agustin's concerned face. He smiled weakly at his cuñado, which apparently encouraged the tall man to plop down right next to him on the stairs. That just could not be comfortable for someone with such long legs.
"Que te hubo, mi amigo?" Agustin asked cheerfully. He seemed not to notice Bruno sliding as close as he could toward the railing, nervous as he was that Julieta's husband had come to take him to task. There were a lot of things that he could be angry with Bruno for.
"Oh! Uhm, nothing really," the smaller man mumbled, his knuckles rapping against the railing. "Just. You know. Headache."
Agustin made a sound of comprehension but said nothing else, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared out into the house at large. The silence dragged on long enough to make Bruno uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry," he said abruptly. "For, uhm, disappearing like that. I know that you probably had to-to-to put up with a lot because of it."
"Hm," Agustin pondered thoughtfully, cupping his chin in one hand as he continued to look out at nothing. "I suppose that you could put it that way."
His non-response confused Bruno, making him more nervous than ever. He didn't even notice that he was worrying his bottom lip with his teeth as he turned to stare unabashedly at his brother-in-law, his back pressed hard against the railing.
"Are you...are you angry at me?" he whispered at last, hugging his knees more tightly to himself. "Do you want to...yuh-yell at me, or fight or something?"
"You always assume that I want to hurt you," Agustin said at last, finally turning to face Bruno. His jaw was tightly set, although there was a suspicious wetness in his eyes. "Why do you do that?"
Bruno could only gape at him, wide-eyed and slack-jawed in the face of such forthrightness. He could feel a hard lump forming in his throat. What could he possibly say? He didn't know, had never thought about it really, but...had Agustin ever really hurt him?
'Of course he's hurt you,' the cold, dark voice insisted suddenly, an unfamiliar sharpness to its tone. 'Remember? They said that they were going to help you. They said that they cared about you, and they lied!'
"Bruno?" Agustin asked, concerned.
That...that wasn't the same though, was it? They had just forgotten, was all. There had been the pregnancies, and then babies to take care of, and running errands for the Encanto. Agustin had never hurt him, really hurt him, like what the Vargas boys had done to him.
'Look at you, making excuses for them,' the voice sneered. 'They don't care about you. He doesn't care about you, no matter how badly you want-'
Bruno buried his hands in his hair and pulled, tugged, yanked, and he was afraid, and he couldn't breathe, and that voice wasn't his voice but a different voice and it said things that he didn't want to hear and he couldn't understand why it would say those things--
"Whoa! Hey, stop-"
He was grabbed by the shoulders, he was pulled forward, he was...was warm. His face was crushed against something soft and firm, and his shaking shoulders were encircled and held securely, and there was a strong hand holding the back of his head, keeping him still, as if he would skitter away if he could.
"It's alright, Bruno," Agustin said firmly, holding him. Holding him like he would hold one of the kids when they were small and frightened and just needed to feel safe. He held Bruno until the trembling passed, and then for a little longer after that.
When he was finally released, Bruno couldn't look at him. He was too embarrassed. He was a grown man, for the love of God.
"I always thought that Luisa got those attacks from Pepa," Agustin said jovially. "Guess I was wrong."
Bruno couldn't keep himself from glancing at Agustin in surprise, startled to see that the other man was grinning as if they had just shared some kind of joke, instead of an incredibly mortifying moment.
"I'm sorry," Bruno sighed, forcing himself to his feet. He stumbled a little, reaching out for the railing to steady himself as he grumbled. He'd been sitting in that same position for so long that his legs had fallen asleep. "I don't nuh-know what's wrong with me."
"I don't think that there's anything wrong with you," Agustin said, sounding a little confused. "I just think that maybe it would help you to talk about how you're feeling. And maybe why you feel the way that you do."
"Maybe," the seer said vaguely, yanking up the hood of his ruana as he descended the stairs. He left without another word.
Agustin stayed on the stairs for quite some time, thinking hard on their interaction. He didn't like the way that Bruno had been hurting himself, right there in front of Agustin, as if he would just let that happen. As if he wouldn't care. Hadn't he promised his friend that he would be there for him in times like that? Himself and Felix both?
But Bruno had never come to them for help. They had assumed that the man, who had always maintained a careful distance from others, simply had not been interested in being vulnerable in front of them. Both of them had decided to believe that Bruno was getting help from someone that he trusted more than two strangers that had married his sisters.
It was only now occuring to Agustin that maybe Bruno hadn't gone to anyone at all. It might even be the case that he hadn't trusted anyone to care for him. Maybe he had been suffering in silence for all of those years, not believing that they cared about him in the slightest.
It was a pretty heartbreaking thought, he had to admit. The feeling that he may have failed Bruno despite his best intentions wasn't a good one. But there was no point in obsessing over it. If his friend--his brother--needed something, anything at all, Agustin was prepared to help him. He owed Bruno, after all. He had the feeling he was only just beginning to understand how much he owed him.
--
"I don't know about that plan, Isa," Mirabel trailed off uncomfortably. She had made her way over to Dolores' bed to test Camilo's claim that it was ridiculously comfortable. It turned out to be true, and she was already forming plans for sleepovers.
"We could keep it as a last resort," Luisa said thoughtfully. "I volunteer to be the one who does it."
"No, we'll take turns," Isabela glowered.
"Can we just talk to mom and Tía Julieta about it first?" Camilo sighed, reluctantly rolling off of the bed. He paced as he talked, nervously shifting from Julieta's form to Mirabel's before finally settling back into his own. "I don't really love the idea of putting ourselves through all of this for him. He's a grownup, shouldn't he be able to handle this himself?"
Isabela and Dolores exchanged uncomfortable looks for a moment before seeming to reach an agreement.
"Camilo," Dolores said seriously. "I know that you think that, once you finally grow up, that you'll just have everything together. But that's not how it works, hermano. Everybody needs help sometimes. Do you think that Abuela has everything figured out?"
"Of course I don't!" he cried furiously, taking everyone by surprise with the force of his emotions. "But what am I supposed to think here? He's fifty and he can't even figure out food? What does that mean for the rest of us?"
"Camilo?" Mirabel asked softly. "Is something...is something bothering you?"
He looked at her with such distress that she couldn't help but throw her arms around him, holding her cousin tightly. She could feel his body shaking from the force of his suppressed sobs. Mirabel couldn't quite put words to the feeling she got when Dolores joined the hug, or when she felt Isabel and Luisa throw their arms over the group as well. She just hoped that Camilo could feel the love that they held for him.
They never knew exactly how long that they had spent holding each other before the moment passed. Someone sneezed, and then someone else subtly shifted into a more comfortable position. Mirabel tentatively released her hold on her cousin. She checked his expression, wanting to gauge how he was feeling. She was pleased to note that the fear had bled out of his eyes, and now he just looked uncomfortable.
As they all broke apart, each of them politely pretending not to notice the tears that Camilo was wiping away, Mirabel came to a decision.
"We're going to start looking out for Tío Bruno," she stated firmly, meeting the eyes of everyone else in the room by turns. "But we're going to look out for each other, too. Because we're all La Familia Madrigal!"
"La Familia Madrigal!" they chorused back.
At that very moment, every single other person in the Encanto felt a sudden and inexplicable sense of impending doom.