Bruno sleeps through breakfast. Dolores and Mirabel let him.
They check on him after they finish eating, because both of them are worried about him even if neither of them wants to say it out loud.
Bruno is curled tightly in on his side, his thin frame surrounded by blankets, his head buried in his pillow. His arms are crossed; he's hugging himself tightly. He seems troubled, even while unconscious.
Mirabel feels helpless. She told him she'd bring him home, and she did, but it's not like she imagined it. If she's honest with herself, she thought everyone would be glad to have him back, especially after finding out what he did for her, and that he would be glad to be back.
Abuela had been so happy to see him, by the river. Her mamá and Tía Pepa had pulled him into their arms without hesitation when they saw him. And he had looked relieved, and happy, and Mirabel honestly thought that everything was going to be okay after that.
Now...
She's pretty sure her uncle hasn't spoken to either of his sisters or Abuela since then. She also certain he's not eating-at least not enough. And even though he's trying to reconnect with his nieces and nephews, he's obviously struggling with that too.
And now there's all these rules, rules that Mirabel wishes she could honestly say didn't matter anymore, now that he was back, but she knows it's not true, and pretending otherwise might do more harm than good.
There's more, but Mirabel doesn't have the energy to worry about it right now, and suddenly she doesn't have the time, because she's been staring at Bruno for a good five minutes, and he must have felt it somehow, because suddenly he opens his eyes.
"Mira?" he yawns, rubbing his face. His eyes are a bit bloodshot in spite of the fact that he slept through the night. "Que pasa, mija?"
She's caught, and she has no idea what to say. Dolores is nowhere to be seen, and consequently absolutely no help.
She stares at her uncle, and to her horror feels tears pricking at her eyes.
Bruno sighs. "Come here," he says. When she hesitates, he raises an eyebrow and pats the blankets beside him.
Mirabel sits down beside him, feeling more than a bit like a little kid.
"You're worried," he says, after a moment. Mirabel can't deny it.
"Yeah." She winces. "I just-I wanted you to be happy. I thought if you came back..." she trails off, not entirely certain what she's trying to say.
"It's going to take time, I think." Bruno hunches in on himself, slightly. "There were a lot of things-even before I had your vision, before you didn't get a gift-that was just kind of the breaking point, I guess. And I-I've been alone for a long time. It's going to take some getting used to, tripping over a niece or nephew every time I turn around."
Mirabel smiles, and her uncle manages a small one of his own. "I wish it weren't so hard," she says, and Bruno blushes, just a bit, as he looks down at his hands.
"Me too," he admits. Clearing his throat, he adds, "But we're going to get there, querida. I promise." His voice is a little stronger, and Mirabel gets the feeling it's entirely for her benefit.
"Look," she begins, but pauses. She's not sure whether she should say it or not. Eventually she decides to go ahead, because Bruno is still waiting for her to finish and with every passing second his eyes get wider and wider. "I know you don't want to worry us, but if it's something we can help with, well, we want to help. Like if you need some space, or if there's too many people, or you're tired or something. You know? You don't have to go into details if you don't want to, but if you, I don't know, need your rats back because you're having a bad day or something, you can tell us. It's not going to hurt our feelings or anything."
Bruno doesn't say anything for a long moment. He simply sits there, staring at his hands. Mirabel waits, figuring maybe he just needs time to sort through her little speech. She didn't actually plan on giving a speech, but oh well. She hopes it helps instead of making things worse.
After a long moment he stirs, though he doesn't look up at her.
"I'll, uh, I'll keep that in mind," he finally says. "I don't suppose we could-ah-maybe keep it to two or three sobrinos at a time? I love you all very-very much, but there's a lot of you, and you all keep-you keep jumping at me."
Mirabel chuckles, just a little, but before she can feel bad about it he's meeting her eyes, and he's wearing a tiny, fragile smile.
"I can ask them to stop, but Antonio's probably just going to keep doing it anyway," she says.
"That's okay," Bruno replies. "I don't mind it so much from him."
They sit there in silence for a while, and it occurs to Mirabel that it's not the first time in the past few days she's found herself sitting with him like this, without speaking. He doesn't seem to mind, in fact, seems to feel no need to say anything, and Mirabel wonders if it's a side-effect of spending so much time alone, but then again, it's not exactly an uncomfortable silence, so maybe he just likes the quiet.
"Mirabel?" she startles; she wasn't expecting him to break first. "Sorry," he says.
"It's fine." She grins. "I guess I was off in my own little world there for a minute."
He nods, absently, but he's worrying the fabric of his ruana, and Mirabel remembers he was going to ask her something.
"What is it?" she asks.
Bruno looks away for a moment before taking a breath and steeling himself.
"Could I-Could I ask a favor? I mean, just because I ask doesn't mean, it doesn't mean you have to do it. I just-" he hesitates again, for a moment, before pressing on. "I was just wondering. I wanted to-to-to talk to your mamá. Nothing important, just say hi, maybe? Only I'm not sure where to find her."
"Oh." Mirabel is surprised. Somehow she was expecting something more-well, she doesn't know what she was expecting, but saying hi to her mom seems like such a small thing, really. "Of course! We can go say hi to her and anyone else you want to see."
Bruno shifts uncomfortably. "Maybe just her, for now. If that's okay."
Mirabel nods. "Sure," she agrees.
Augustín clears his throat and looks pointedly over Julieta's shoulder. She follows his gaze to see Mirabel approaching, weaving carefully around people as they work, a slight figure in green trailing her like a shadow.
Her husband kisses her on the cheek and steps away to give them privacy, and Julieta is grateful. It's been ten years, with the exception of a few, far too short minutes when Bruno first came back to them, and Julieta has no idea what to say to her brother.
There's so much hanging between them. Things left unsaid, things never resolved. Words she wishes she could take back-part of her wonders if she was the one who drove him to leave that fateful day, pressing him as she had about Mirabel and his vision, so desperate for answers and reassurance that she had overlooked how tired he had been and how much pain her asking about it had caused him.
She knows, now, why he had hesitated. Why he left. It doesn't change the fact that when his door went dark she feared the worst.
She had spent ten years thinking the worst, and blaming herself.
"Hi," he says, and falls silent. Julieta wants to pull him into another hug, but can tell at a glance he isn't ready for that.
Mirabel stands nearby, uncertain. It's clear, however, that she has no intention of leaving the two of them alone. She catches her mother looking at her and shrugs, offering an awkward wave. Julieta turns her attention back to her brother.
"Hello, Bruno," she says, and it seems insufficient, to say the least. She looks for something-anything-to say. Nothing that will worry Mirabel. Nothing that will risk making Bruno run. "How are you?"
She winces. It's the one time Bruno always lies. Otherwise honest to a fault is her brother, but when it comes to asking how he's doing, he will lie every time.
Except this time he does not immediately answer. And when he does, it's with a shrug.
"Eh," he offers, noncommittally. She wants to pull him into her arms and never let go, but that would only scare him off. "You?" he adds, after a beat, as if he's only just remembered that he's supposed to. Julieta smiles at him, but it's a wobbly sort of smile, and suddenly his eyes are full of hurt and regret and fear and a hundred other emotions he can't quite hide.
"I'm fine," she says. Bruno is not the only Madrigal to lie when faced with this particular question. "It's good to have you back," she ventures.
"Yeah," he agrees.
All in all, it's not a very memorable meeting. Nor is it particularly ground-breaking. It's a small thing, one tiny step towards the future, but Julieta thinks maybe it's all her brother is capable of handling right now.
Pepa watches her hermanos interact, hands on her hips, scowling at the both of them. She's jealous, and she knows it, and it's not fair for her to be angry. She knows this too. Julieta's relationship with their brother, even at its most strained, was never as volatile as her own.
Bruno's struggling. And it makes sense that he would seek out Julieta first. Their sister is safer. Quieter. Julieta never lashes out in anger, saying things she'll regret later. Julieta never picks at emotional scabs before they're anywhere near healed, making things ten times worse in the process. Julieta is patient and kind and will wait until her brother is ready for all the discussions they need to have.
Pepa knows herself well enough to know that she won't be able to wait, and that it will do more harm in the long run. She's always been like that, at least with Bruno, and all the knowing and sorrow and regret in the world haven't been able to change any of it.
Still, she misses her brother. And since it's just her right here, right now, she can admit to herself she resents his and Julieta's relationship.
They always seemed so close.
And Pepa, truth be told, is still angry about the wedding.
To be fair, they've never actually managed to get through an entire conversation about it without someone either interrupting or Bruno bolting, so they've never actually been able to resolve anything. Bruno's apology a few days ago is, quite possibly, the closest they've ever gotten to working through it.
She looks away as the Bruno wanders off, Mirabel tagging along not too far behind him, but looks up again almost immediately, watching as Mirabel comes to walk a little closer beside her uncle while they talk, and as Bruno stumbles and bumps into a very large, very tall man.
"Mierda."
Pepa recognizes the man.
"S-S-S-" Bruno looks up at the man he's just bumped into and freezes, eyes wide. Mirabel looks from her tío to Señor Perez.
The man does not look happy.
"I heard you were back," he says. Bruno does not reply. He simply continues staring up at the man as if he's forgotten how to do anything else. "Haven't you done enough?"
Her uncle stumbles backward as if he's been physically stricken. Mirabel looks from him to Señor Perez.
"What's that supposed to mean?" she asks, and her uncle flinches.
Señor Perez looks down at her. "Your uncle's bad luck," he tells her. "Him leaving was one of the best things that ever happened to the village. The things he saw-"
"He's not bad luck," Mirabel argues. Beside her, Bruno is looking more than a little gray. "Just because he had some visions where bad things happen-"
"Do you know what kind of things he saw?" Señor Perez cuts her off. He shakes his head. "Things no child should know about, but somehow he did. Terrible things. Things that would make your blood curdle-"
"He doesn't have his gift anymore, idiota. None of us do."
Tía Pepa appears, as if out of nowhere, and she looks pissed. It's weird to see sunny skies when she's obviously so angry. She puts herself between her family members and Señor Perez, and Mirabel is suddenly a little worried for the man in spite of the fact that he's still towering over all three of them.
"He's not bad luck. He's not a curse." Pepa insists, hands on her hips, eyes flashing. Bruno has yet to recover.
"The day he came to my house was the worst day of my life." Señor Perez says, his voice flat. Bruno flinches and looks at the ground.
Her aunt throws her hands up in the air in desperation. "He was seven years old! He was trying to help!" She scowls at him. "It would have happened anyway, and you know that. Or you would, if you weren't so busy convincing yourself that my brother makes the bad things happen so you can be angry at him instead of actually coming to terms with what happened."
Señor Perez raises a giant hand, and Mirabel is certain he is going to strike her tía. Pepa meets his gaze without fear, without flinching, angry and unafraid.
Bruno lunges forward, straight towards Señor Perez, and Mirabel gasps.
Pepa intercepts him without batting an eye, twirling around to catch him in the chest with her shoulder, tucking her arm under his, and shifting her weight to knock him backwards, all without seeming to do so.
She keeps going, turning her brother around and dragging him with her, one arm across his back, one gripping the shoulder of his ruana firmly.
"Come on, Mirabel," she calls over her shoulder.
Señor Perez lets out a low, ugly laugh.
Pepa turns back around, twisting as she does so that she now has Bruno in a headlock-Mirabel watches wide-eyed as he struggles frantically to get loose, and takes one last look at the man.
"Come near my brother again, and you'll regret it," she says flatly. "The same goes if I find out you've been trying to spread anymore of your lies to my children or nieces."
"You don't have your gift." Señor Perez points out. He pales anyway when Pepa takes a step closer to him, Bruno still fighting to get loose.
"I don't need it." Mirabel's aunt sounds as if she's reminding him of this fact. Once again she turns around, dragging her brother with her as she storms off. "Come on, Mirabel." she says again.
Mirabel doesn't know what else to do, so she follows.
Pepa drags Bruno, still very much in a headlock and still fighting as if his life depends on it, away from Señor Perez, through the worksite where the villagers are still helping rebuild Casita and past a number of people who suddenly seem very focused on ignoring both Mirabel's aunt and uncle, stopping only once they are far enough from everyone to give them some illusion of privacy.
Pepa does not relinquish her hold on her brother, who Mirabel suddenly realizes is swearing at her aunt as he struggles in her grip.
"Let me go, Pepa!"
"What were you going to do, fight him?" Pepa looks down at the top of her brother's head. "I'll let you go once you've calmed down."
"I am calm, damn it!"
"Not remotely." Mirabel finds it worrying that Tía Pepa can hold onto him so easily. "He would have knocked you on your ass, hermanito, and you know it. He has before."
"That was different," Bruno insists, but he's no longer trying as hard to get free.
"Why, because you were seven?" Pepa snapped. "He was willing to do it then, and he's just as willing to do it now. He's still bigger than you, I might add."
At this, Bruno stops struggling. Pepa waits a moment longer before releasing him. He straightens, rubbing his neck, but won't meet his sister's eyes.
"You really need to work on that temper," she says, and he snorts. They exchange thin, uneasy smiles.
"Thanks," Bruno says. Pepa raises an eyebrow.
"For saving you the first time, or the second?" She wants to know. Bruno hunches his shoulders briefly before rolling them back.
"I really am sorry about your wedding," he says. "I thought it would make you laugh. And I wanted you to know that-that-you know-I-I-I-"
Pepa cuts him off, pulling him into a hug. Bruno yelps.
"I love you too, dummy," she whispers. "No matter what."
"Yeah, that," he chuckles nervously, and brings one hand up to pat her arm awkwardly.
Pepa lets him go a moment later.
"I know it doesn't fix everything," she says, and even Mirabel can see the moment when Bruno starts to panic. "And I know it's going to take time. I don't know why it was always so hard for us-" Pepa doesn't finish the thought.
Bruno's shoulders drop. "Pepa, I-I-I can't-"
"I know," she says. "Not now. We'll get there, eventually. When you're ready. But right now, can I just be glad I have my brother back? Please?"
Bruno hesitates for only a moment before nodding. "I missed you," he says.
Pepa sniffs and pulls him into another hug. "I missed you too."
Antonio interrupts any further conversation Bruno and Pepa might have had, running at them at full speed as if out of nowhere, throwing himself at his uncle. Bruno somehow manages to catch him, but for a moment he is sure that they are both going down, and that Pepa is going to reconsider whether or not she's glad he came back.
"Toñito, que pasa?" he asks, grinning down at the boy.
Antonio makes him feel younger, somehow. Less tired. Less worn out and weary. Makes him think that maybe, just maybe, everything's going to be all right after all.
"Nothing," the boy smiles up at him. "I just wanted to see you."
Bruno's heart warms, even if the rest of him is shaking as he tries to accommodate the boy's weight. He knows Pepa and Mirabel have noticed, the look they're giving him...
He tries to ignore it as he sets Antonio back down before sinking into a cross-legged position next to him.
"I like seeing you too," he says. Antonio climbs into his lap, leaning back against his uncle's chest so that his head rests against one shoulder.
"Are you feeling better?" he asks, and behind his head, Bruno grimaces.
"I am," he says, because what else can he say? He can't tell his five-year-old nephew that he feels like he's constantly on the verge of a nervous breakdown or that he still feels utterly exhausted in spite of getting a full night's sleep. "Thank you."
Antonio giggles. "Can you tell me a story? Dolores says you tell the best stories. Even better than Mirabel."
"Hey!" Mirabel puts her hands on her hips.
"He does," Pepa confirms, shooting a glance at their niece. "Sorry, Mirabel."
The girl plops herself down on the grass beside them "I'll be the judge of that," she insists. She looks over at Bruno uncertainly. "That is, if you don't mind."
"I don't mind." Bruno says absently. He's thinking. It's been a long time since he had any of his sobrinos in his lap, begging for a story. "Okay, here goes. Era une vez, fue una pobre viejecita..."
Julieta is hovering, and she knows it.
But she needs to know what happened.
She needs to know why her sister just appeared out of nowhere, dragging Bruno, Mirabel trailing after them like a lost puppy.
They seem fine now. Bruno has Antonio in his lap. Mirabel is sitting with him. It looks like Bruno's telling a story.
Pepa, who is slowly but surely putting more and more space between herself and their brother, catches her eye, and her lips thin. Without a word, she turns and heads in Julieta's direction.
They are far enough away that they won't be overheard, Julieta hopes. Pepa looks around anyway, suspicious. Whatever happened, it was nothing good.
"What is it?" Julieta asks, unable to wait any longer. Pepa huffs.
"Bruno and Mirabel ran into Señor Perez earlier." Pepa tells her sister. "I thought Bruno was going to faint, hermana. And then he kept saying these nasty things, and Mirabel kept defending Bruno, and I was sure Señor Perez was going to say too much-"
"So you intervened." Julieta surmised. Pepa nodded. "That doesn't explain why you were dragging Bruno around by his head."
"Señor Perez wanted to hit me. I think he was going to."
"Ah." Julieta frowns. "When you say Señor Perez, do you mean Señor Perez as in Marco Perez?"
"As in the Perez boy who beat Bruno senseless when he was twelve and Bruno was seven. The boy Bruno then defended, saying he did just tell the family that his brother was going to drown in the river. As if it was Bruno's fault the kid was going to drown, and Bruno deserved to be punished for it."
Julieta sighs. "You know, I used to think Bruno was just overly sympathetic. That he wasn't blaming himself, he just understood better than the rest of us what people were going through. That he knew they didn't really blame him, they were just upset."
Pepa snorts. "He may have said that, but he never believed it. Not really. Not since that cat got run over. But yes, that Señor Perez."
"And Bruno was going to fight him?"
"Only because he thought he was going to hit me." Pepa points out. "You know he has no sense of self-preservation when it comes to defending the family."
"I know." Julieta agrees. "So did you two talk, after he calmed down enough for you to let him go?"
"A bit." Pepa looks unhappy. "He apologized for ruining the wedding. Again."
"You did throw that back in his face every time you were angry up until the day he left." Julieta reminds her, gently, and Pepa hangs her head.
"I know," she says, softly. "But we did talk, a little bit. Not much." Pepa looks back up at her sister, tears in her eyes. "I just wish I could help him. I hate what's happened. I hate that he's back-except he's not. It's like watching a ghost moving around, trying to mimic the living, and I hate watching it."
"He had a panic attack yesterday." Julieta offers. She agrees with her sister entirely. "Augustín found him. Bruno sat and cried into his shoulder for hours."
"Mierda," Pepa says.
"At least he seems better, when he's around the kids." Julieta says. It doesn't make her feel any less helpless.
"He's pretending to be better."
"Some of it is pretend." Julieta concedes. "But some of it is real, too. Maybe more of it, as time goes on."
Pepa looks away, across the field, to where their children are listening with rapt attention to whatever story Bruno is telling. "I hate this," she says.
Julieta does too.
Antonio falls asleep listening to Bruno's story. By the time he's finished, they're all sort of sprawled in the grass, and Bruno's voice is just kind of fading in and out of focus, his eyes half-closed. He eventually trails off mid-sentence, and by the time Mirabel looks over, her tío is asleep as well.
Mirabel stares up at the sky. She wasn't listening anyway, not since Tía Pepa sneaked away to talk to her mother.
Mirabel was just close enough to hear most of the conversation, though really she had stopped listening shortly after the revelation that the man who had confronted her uncle this morning had once beaten him senseless when they were kids.
When he was twelve, her mind corrected, and Bruno was seven.
What chance did a seven-year-old have against someone five years older than him? How was that fair? And had anyone done anything about it, or had they simply chalked it up to someone being upset that Bruno had brought bad news and left it at that?
Another thought occurs to her, and Mirabel immediately wishes it hadn't.
How many other times did something like that happen? She doesn't want to think about it. She hopes she's overreacting.
Still, she remembers how her uncle froze the moment he recognized Señor Perez, and the sudden fear in his eyes.
And apparently the man has not changed his mind about Bruno. Not in the years since they were kids, not during the time Bruno was 'gone.' He still very much hates her tío. That much is obvious.
Bruno twitches in his sleep, muttering something under his breath that she can't quite make out, and rolls onto his side before curling in on himself. He brushes against Antonio in the process, and the sleeping child instinctively presses up against him.
Bruno snakes a skinny arm out, unconsciously drawing his nephew closer.
Mirabel smiles in spite of her dark thoughts. After all, it's an adorable sight, her uncle and cousin cuddling in their sleep, the rats curled up with them.
She's pretty sure some of the tension in her uncle just loosened, and that Antonio, for all that he's only five years old and probably understands very little of what's going on with his uncle, is good for Bruno.
Luisa is helping the men rebuild Casita after lunch. She may no longer be as strong as she once was, but she's still pretty strong. Stronger than most of the women. Stronger than a lot of the men, to be honest.
It means she's still able to help a great deal. She wishes she could do more, but at least she still has some of her strength.
She does keep forgetting, though. She's nearly hurt herself a couple of times, trying to pick up things that are too heavy for her now.
But this, this she can manage.
Barely.
Maybe.
By the time she realizes she can't actually manage, it's too late. There's a stitch in her side and a sharp pain in her back (as well as a smaller, no less sharp burning in her upper arm). Her breathing is heavier than it should be, and suddenly she's too busy trying not to drop this part of the wall to call for help.
Help that she desperately needs.
She's going to fall. She's going to drop everything. And everyone is going to be disappointed in her.
Luisa's knees start shaking, and she's sure she's going down.
"A little-a little help?"
The words do not come from her. They are masculine, and very timid, and stuttered out as a green cloaked figure darts up beside her and throws what Luisa is certain is all his negligible weight into the now leaning wall.
Luisa almost lets go in surprise.
"Can we-can we not stand here and watch-" Bruno is panting too heavily to finish whatever he's trying to say.
Mirabel steps up to the wall on Luisa's other side. She's a little better at helping; at least she doesn't look like she's about to have a heart attack.
A second later several other villagers step in to help, and it's just in time, because Luisa's arms and back are both about ready to give out on her.
They settle the wall into place with more than a few sighs of relief. Bruno all but slides to the ground, gasping for breath. Luisa's knees are still shaking, so she drops down beside him.
"Thanks," she manages. She'll feel guilty later. Right now she just needs to wait for her back to stop complaining and her own breathing to even out.
Bruno looks at her. She's not entirely certain what that look means, but there's a good bit in disbelief in there, and quite possibly some annoyance.
"Can anyone explain to me why my niece is trying to put up an entire wall, by herself, with no one so much as watching to make sure nothing goes wrong?"
There's an almost icy edge to that normally gentle tone, and several villagers pale.
"Maybe they just forgot?" Mirabel offers, always quick to jump in and defend whoever seems to need defending. Or, more recently, to intercede on their tío's behalf. "You know, that the gifts...are...gone?"
Luisa knows why her sister hesitates on the last few words. Mirabel's worried about upsetting her.
Bruno shakes his head. "Shouldn't matter. It's not safe. Even if she could still lift an entire wall by herself, something else could go wrong. A piece could break. She could stumble. Or trip." The crowds surrounding them has almost entirely stopped breathing.
Bruno sighs and gently knocks against the side of his head. "It's not a prophecy. I don't have my gift anymore either. But accidents happen that have nothing to do with someone being strong enough to carry something." He turns to look at Luisa.
"Is this a regular occurrence?"
Luisa shrugs. She's not used to having a spotter. She's not used to needing one, really. Unless her uncle's entire point is that she should have one, gift or no gift, just in case. "I mean, sort of? I'm sorry, Tío Bruno, I'll be more careful next time."
"Not the point, kid," he says, and he sounds more than a little bit like the uncle Luisa knew before he left. "If you're going to be lifting heavy stuff, you need to have someone watching for you."
"Okay, Tío," she agrees, and she thinks he might be right. Her arm still hurts, and her lower back's still throbbing. It's a little scary, but it's nothing she can't handle.
"You okay?" he asks, looking her over. "I was pretty sure that thing was going to-that that thing was going to fall over on us." He's rubbing his shoulder as he speaks. Luisa hesitates, and his eyes narrow. "What hurts?"
Luisa drops her head, staring at the ground. "My back hurts, a little. And my arm." It comes out practically a whisper, and the girl cannot help but feel shame. She should be stronger.
She used to be stronger.
"Pretty sure I did something to my shoulder," Bruno says idly. "Feels like a pulled muscle. I can still move it okay, but it hurts. Going to have to take it easy for a few days."
Luisa tries to focus on the pain in her back. "It feels stiff. It hurts a little. It's dull, like an ache."
"And your arm?"
"It burned, at first. It still hurts a little, when I move it." Luisa hesitates again before adding. "I've never hurt myself like this before."
"You need to rest. Take it easy for a few days." Luisa feels herself tense up at that.
"But I have to-"
"Give your injuries time to heal so they don't get worse or become permanent?" Bruno interrupts gently. Luisa dares to look up, and finds in his eyes no judgment, no condemnation. Only understanding. "Trust me, you push it and you're going to end up hurting yourself that much worse and taking twice as long to heal. Maybe longer."
Luisa knows he's right. She just doesn't know how to accept it. She's always pushed through any discomfort, through weariness, through anxiety and worry and stress as well. Giving herself time to rest, time to heal-it just doesn't come naturally.
"How about-how about this," Bruno ducks his head as if in apology, but there's a knowing glint in his eye. "I need to let my shoulder get better. You need to let your back and arm do the same. We'll both, we'll both rest, and when my shoulder is better, we'll check in, see how your injuries are doing, and whether or not you need more time for them to heal. That way neither of us are tempted to-neither of us are tempted to try to do too much and hurt ourselves worse. Deal?"
Luisa nods. She's not sure what to say, or even whether she's capable of saying anything at all at the moment.
"Good," Bruno looks pleased. Maybe relieved. Definitely exhausted.
Bruno disappears shortly after his talk with Luisa. He does not reappear during lunch, though the Madrigal children don't actually figure it out until mid-afternoon, when first Mirabel, then Dolores, then Camilo realizes their tío not only did not join anyone for lunch, but that no one has actually seen him for hours.
"There's no reason to panic," Mirabel tells herself. "Maybe he just needed some space."
Still, the Madrigal children organize themselves into a discrete search for their uncle, just in case. They try to keep it subtle, because they don't want to alert any of the adults, and they don't want to embarrass Bruno if it turns out they were simply overreacting.
No one mentions that they're all secretly afraid he's vanished again.
Mirabel finds him after twenty minutes of searching, in the spot near the trees that is starting to become a regular hangout for him, face down in the grass.
"Bruno?" she races to him, terrified that something happened, and he's hurt.
"Mmmph?"
Bruno never moves. He remains sprawled face first in the grass.
"Are you okay?" Mirabel asks. She kneels beside him just in time to see him tilt his head, ever so slightly, and groan.
"Fine." As if he can sense her skepticism, he adds, "Really."
Mirabel is not convinced.
"Did you hurt yourself, earlier?" she asks. She can hear him sigh, a long, drawn out, somewhat melodramatic response to her prying.
"I'm fifty years old, have spent the last ten years living in the walls of Casita, and just this morning tried to catch an entire wall. Everything hurts." he pauses, then reconsiders. "In exactly the way one might expect, all things considered. I'll be fine. I just want to lie here motionless and pretend I'm not old and out of shape for a little while."
It is, possibly, the most normal thing Mirabel has ever heard him say. She backs up, giving him space, and sprawls out beside him.
"Do you have to be alone to do that, or is company okay?" she asks. Bruno chuckles.
"Well, considering my baby niece is now fifteen years old, I'm not sure you staying is going to make me feel any less old," he admits. "On the other hand, I'd appreciate the company."
"I could tell you how young you look," Mirabel offers. "That you don't look a day over forty." Bruno scoffs. "I mean, you look tired. And your hair's a bit-wild. But you don't really look old."
"I feel old," he groans, but his mood remains light.
"You did try to wrestle a wall. Are you even comfortable like that?"
"Mmmm. The grass is nice and soft. And moving would just hurt more."
Mirabel shakes her head and grins. She rolls onto her back, cushioning her head in her arms, and stares up at the sky. It's actually a beautiful day. The weather is almost perfect.
Dolores finds them, after a while, Mirabel staring up at the sky, Tío Bruno face down in the dirt. She smiles at her prima and settles beside them on the grass.
"I think he's asleep." Mirabel offers, when she realizes Dolores is watching him. "Not sure how, but he said he was comfortable."
Dolores shrugs. "Can't be that much less comfortable than the floor. My back hurt when I woke up this morning."
"Mine too," Mirabel agrees. "Can't really complain, though. Where else are we going to sleep?" Her cousin turns her head to look at her. "Of course, I would have thought the Guzmans would have offered to let you stay with them."
Dolores blushes. "We haven't really done anything more than talk," she admits.
"He already wants to marry you." Mirabel points out. Dolores sighs. "Come on, he's the man of your dreams, right?"
"He's a good man." Dolores admits. "But he was going to propose to Isabella, and now he wants to propose to me. I just want to make sure he's not going to move on to someone else in a week or two."
Mirabel considers this. "But you love him, don't you?"
Dolores shrugs. "I don't want to marry a man who's going to fall in love with someone new every other week."
"I guess that makes sense. But you're getting along, when you talk?"
Dolores nods. "We are. And I think he really does like me-not just the idea of marrying me. I just want to be sure."
"It's only been a few days, I guess. A marriage now would be rushing things."
"Just a bit." The girls break into a fit of giggles.
Bruno manages to drag himself up off the ground and join Camilla and Isabella for dinner. Something about the way they find him and ask him to eat with them feels intentional, but he shrugs it off. He's been more than a bit paranoid the past few days, and he's not about to let it keep him from spending time with his sobrinos.
He doesn't eat much, but neither of them seem to notice. They don't seem to notice that he really doesn't have much to say either, and he's grateful, because he's still a little bit tapped out from talking to Juli, then running into Señor Perez, then having to deal with Pepa, and then trying to convince Luisa that it's okay to take time off when you need it.
Unless you're a Madrigal, a nasty voice in his head whispers. He shakes his head. Just because he believed (believes?) it for himself didn't mean he believes it for his nephews and nieces. He wants better for them. It doesn't matter if he's accepted it for himself. He's seen what that kind of pressure has done to the kids over the years, and he is not going to let it continue.
He's dimly aware that that means one day he may have to cross his mamí, and it terrifies him.
Bruno pulls himself back to the present in time for Isabella to reach out and tuck a strand of his hair out of his face, and he tries not to flinch while his mind races to figure out what she just said to him.
"Sorry, Isa," he says after several awkward seconds. "I was-I mean-What was it?"
Isabella laughs as if he's always been this way: easily distracted, not always entirely present. She repeats herself as if it's normal, and she doesn't even care that he wasn't listening the first time.
"I said, you should let me do your hair sometime. You could use a trim."
"Maybe." Bruno isn't so sure about that, but he's not going to deny her outright.
"Think about it," she urges. "Shampoo, condition, a nice trim, and you'd be a new man."
Camilo rolls his eyes. "A man is more than his hair, Isabella."
She tosses her own hair in response. "Perfect hair inspires confidence, and confidence is the key to success."
"So now he needs confidence too?"
Bruno snorts. He certainly could use more confidence in his day-to-day routine.
"I'm just saying," Isabella shakes her head at her cousin as if she knows far better than he does. "I always enjoy getting my hair done. It helps me relax, feel better. And I always feel more confident, more in control, when I know my hair looks good."
"You don't need any more confidence." Camilo says, jabbing a finger at her.
Isabella laughs outright.
Abuela finds them after dinner, or, more specifically, him.
"May I speak with you, Bruno?" She phrases it like a formal request, and suddenly Bruno's heart is pounding in his chest and he's terrified. Terrified of the Matriarch of la familia. Terrified that she regrets her earlier welcome, now that she's had time to remember what it's like having him around. Terrified that she's still angry with him for leaving.
Worst of all, he's afraid she'll want to talk.
Bruno is tired and hurting and stressed and anxious and nowhere near ready to have any sort of discussion with the woman.
He doesn't know what to say. What to do. Where to even begin.
Because he knows the truth, now. Watching it happen to his nieces and nephews has made everything clear in a way that growing up with it somehow did not.
She was wrong. The way she treated them, the priority she put on protecting the miracle, serving the village, even to the detriment of their own well-being, both physical and mental, was wrong.
He ran away to protect Mirabel from her.
Bruno doesn't know how to move on from that.
Even if she's changed. Even if she's realized the mistake she's made and is willing to work to make it better. Even if she's willing to try to make things right.
He's tired and broken and scarred and doesn't know how much fight he has left in him-because changing for the better, after all these years, even if everyone wants it, even if everyone needs it, is going to be an uphill battle against habit and memories and old wounds and hurt feelings and that all-encompassing fear of never being enough.
He realizes, abruptly, that Dolores and Camilo are gone. His mother is standing in front of him as he sits cross-legged on the ground, looking down at him.
"I wanted to see how you were doing," she says, after a long moment, and Bruno has no idea how to reply.
Part of him wants to throw himself at her, tell her everything. It's the child in him, a part of him that somehow never really went away, no matter how bad things got between them, and no matter how much Bruno tried to tell himself he was old enough that he shouldn't need it anymore.
His mamá sighs, and he knows he's hurting her by not answering.
"I know that you and I have the most work ahead of us out of everyone, if we want to make things right," she says. "If you're still willing to try, after everything. And I know it's going to take time, mijo."
Bruno swallows nervously. It feels a bit like he's trying to swallow an ice-cold arepa whole.
"I-I-I-" he looks away. He wants to try, but he's so tired.
So afraid.
Her next words surprise him.
"I'm willing to wait. I want to try to rebuild our relationship, if we can, but I'm willing to let you decide what shape that relationship takes. When you're ready."
He feels a tear roll down his nose, but he can't meet her eyes.
"I do need your help with something," she adds, and his heart all but stops in his chest. "If we are to come together as a family, and grow stronger as a family, we must all change. I most of all. And I don't know...I don't know how to do it."
Bruno's head snaps up so fast it gives him whiplash, and he stares at his mother.
"I know it's not fair to ask this of you, but neither of the girls have ever been able to stand up to me, not even when they knew they were right and I was wrong. You, on the other hand-"
"You're asking me to do what? Tell you when you're wrong?" His voice is flat in his own ears. Harsh.
He'll do it, though. For his nieces. His nephews. For Mirabel, the niece he spent ten years hiding from his family to protect. For Dolores, who heard far too much during those agonizing years. For Luisa, who doesn't know how to take time off when she's injured, for god's sake. For Antonio, who lost his gift after only having it for a day.
For them, he'll stand up to his own mother if needed. No matter if it destroys what little chance they had left. No matter if it destroys him in the process.
Bruno stumbles obliviously into bed, and both Mirabel and Dolores get the feeling he doesn't see either of them-or anything else around them. He mumbles something that might almost have been "goodnight" before curling up on his side and shoving his face into his pillow.
Mirabel knows that Abuela stopped to talk to him. Dolores told her, when they both made it back to Señora Garcia's before Bruno.
The girls settle down in their usual spots for the night, exchanging worried glances over their uncle's still, quiet form. They think he might be asleep already, but neither is entirely sure.
Sleep never comes for either girl as they both lay still in the darkness, worrying about the future, worrying about their family, and most of all, worrying about their uncle.
It is only because they are still awake two hours after Bruno came in that they hear anything-in the darkness suddenly a soft, shuddering sob tears its way out of their tío, and suddenly he shifts, sobbing into his pillow as if his heart were completely and utterly broken, and somehow both girls know they are not meant to see this complete and total meltdown, and that the only thing either of them can possibly do is make things worse.
It does not make it any easier to lay there quietly in the dark, listening to Bruno cry.
Author's Note: Let me just say, I think Abuela did them all wrong, but especially Mirabel. And seeing everything she went through, I can understand that she meant well, even if she did screw things up. I also firmly believe she came to see the error of her ways, or else the magic and all that would never have come back.
That being said, I don't think they're all going to magically be able to change all those toxic behaviors in a day. I think it's going to take time, and I think mistakes are going to be made, because they're human, and people make mistakes. Nobody's perfect, not even Disney characters.
Anyway, that's my take on it. Feel free to disagree.
Also, thanks to all of you for reading, reviewing, following, all that great stuff. It warms my heart.
Disclaimer: Disney's Encanto does not belong to me.