Work Text:
Any decent parent knows their child—which was exactly how Bruno Pedro Hernando Jorge Madrigal Botero knew that something was up with his three oldest children.
They’ve all been sharing… looks. Looks that Bruno absolutely remembered sharing with his sisters when they were young. Some ‘we know something you don’t know’ looks.
They’ve also started avoiding him. That one hurt a little bit more, but he tried not to let it. They were all teenage boys, after all.
Cornel especially was acting strange.
In fact, he'd been acting so strangely that Julieta had thought he'd gotten sick.
“Dios mío, sobrino, you're paler than the moon. Are you sure you're feeling alright?”
“Sí, Tía. I'm fine.”
Cornel had been looking a little pale lately.
He also seemed to get nervous if Cyriacus and Cesare were left alone with anyone in the family, recently. Making excuses to join the conversation or tear his brothers away from whoever they were speaking to.
It was odd.
One might even say it was suspicious.
Eventually, Bruno decided to just… talk to Cornel about it. Talking to his family about troublesome things was something he was still trying to learn to do.
“Cornel?” Bruno knocked on his son’s door.
After a moment, the door opened and Cornel stuck his head out. A look of panic flashed across his face before he schooled it. “Yes?”
“Can we talk?” Bruno fidgeted with his ruana.
The brunette's panic returned. “What did Señor Odioso tell you?”
Bruno blinked. “Señor Odioso? What does Señor Odioso have to do with anything?”
“ Nothing .” Cornel looked like he regretted saying anything at all.
“Did he do something? Say something?” Bruno pressed.
“No.”
“Cornel, can you please tell me what’s going on? I’m worried about you, mi pequeño espíritu.” Bruno placed a hand on the doorframe, eyes pleading.
“Someone told you, didn't they?” Cornel backed up, looking nervous yet angry at the same time. “Who was it? Cesare? Cornel?”
“Told me what? Niño, whatever it is you think I know, it’s okay.” He was using his softest voice, trying to push without pushing Cornel away.
“No it's not. Don't lie to me. I know it's wrong. That I'm wrong. ”
Bruno blinked. “Cornel, I’m not lying. You know you can tell me anything.”
“No I can't. You're gonna freak out like Señor Odioso.”
“I won’t. Señor Odioso doesn’t know what he’s talking about, I promise.” Bruno held up his hand to swear, but not before knocking on the wooden door frame a few times.
“You absolutely swear you won't be mad?” The teen was fidgeting with his ruana.
“Swear.” He held out his pinky. “There is nothing you can say to me that would make me mad at you.”
“Even if it means I might never be able to go to church again?”
Ah. Bruno was starting to get an idea of what Cornel’s secret was. “Even then. I love you, mijo.”
Cornel reluctantly held out his own pinky, taking a deep breath.
“Take all the time you need.” Bruno kept their pinkies combined, as a small comfort.
“I'm not into women.”
He nodded. “Okay. That’s fine–great, actually. I love you, niño.”
“You aren't mad?” Cornel swallowed.
“Of course I’m not mad. You can’t help who you love. Or don’t love.” He shrugged.
“You don't think I'm gross? Or bad?”
Bruno used his other hand to gently cup Cornel’s face. “No. I do not. You’re my son, and I love you.”
The boy's eyes were watered as he stared at him—before throwing his arms around his father and burying his face in his shoulder. “I thought you were going to hate me.”
Bruno hugged him back, just as tight. “Never. Nothing you could do or be could ever make me hate you.”
Cornel didn't say anything, hugging him a bit tighter. Feeling more relieved than he had ever thought was possible.
His dad still loved him.
His dad still loved him.
His dad knew he wasn't straight and he didn't care.
His dad knew and he loved him anyway.