Alma stares at her son-in-law in a mix of horror and sheer terror as he finishes recounting the events of the previous evening. Never has she been so afraid of losing her son. Never has she needed so badly to see him safe and alive.
This is her fault. She knew how people looked at him-how they talked about him. She had heard things, over the years. Whispers. Rumors. And she had ignored them.
The time an older boy beat him half to death, and they had brushed it off-he was grieving, after all, and he was only a child. Never mind that Bruno had been even younger at the time.
Other incidents, ignored and explained away as accidents or childish arguments.
Things they could have avoided if he had simply been better at controlling his gift, or so she had told herself-and him. Never mind that he had been five years old, little more than a baby, when the visions first started.
She thinks that at least things cannot get worse. She is wrong.
Alma listens, slack-jawed, unable to think, barely able to breathe, as Augustín hesitates, then recounts another incident, back when he and Julieta first started dating.
Bruno could have died, her son-in-law says, but it is not the full truth.
He would have, had Augustín not come along. Even if someone else had found him, they might still have left him there. Maybe even finished what someone else started.
Alma is sick.
How did it come to this?
Bruno does not want to join the family for breakfast. Not like this.
He also doesn't want his sobrinos to think he's dead, though.
He also (also?) doesn't want Pepa hunting down Marco, so when Mariano asks if there's anything he can do for him, Bruno asks if he can see his sister.
The boy seems nice. Bruno's not sure about being called Señor Madrigal, though. There's something about it that just doesn't feel right.
Maybe he's just not used to people in the Encanto calling him anything bordering on respectful. Or daring to say his name at all-other than to curse him.
He's still not entirely comfortable around Mariano after-well. Bruno doesn't really want to think about that. He's still not sure why the kid doesn't hate him.
He's also not sure why his mama didn't just slam the door in their faces last night.
Or why she's currently offering him a hot cup of tea.
Bruno blinks. "Thank you," he manages, accepting the cup left-handed. "I-"
He doesn't know what to say.
Señora Guzman clears her throat. "I'm not going to turn away someone in need," she says. "Not when they're hurt. What happened last night-"
He doesn't want to think about what happened last night. Doesn't want to think about that fact that he was sure, as Marco threw that first punch, that he was going to die. He has no idea why he's still alive, let alone able to sit up and move about and take a sip of tea before it's cool and burn his tongue in the process.
She takes a deep breath and leans forward, and Bruno wants to pull back. Somehow, he manages to stay still.
"What happened last night was wrong," she says. "And maybe-I was wrong too."
"I should have said something," Bruno blurts. He doesn't know why. What he expects. "I'm sorry. I know it doesn't-it doesn't change anything. You have every right to be angry."
"I am angry," she admits. "Even after all these years." She sighs. "But I've seen you with those kids. And the rats. And even if-well. This, though," she gestures at him broadly, and Bruno winces. "It's not right, what they did to you."
Mariano returns, Pepa in tow, saving Bruno from trying to figure out what to say. Never has he been so grateful to see his sister's face.
Nobody even bothers trying to pretend they aren't staring as Bruno slouches into a seat at the end of the table and Tía Pepa slips into the one beside him.
Antonio stares at his tío with wide eyes, his mouth wide open, then flings himself out of his own chair and darts around the end of the table to immediately start scrambling into Bruno's lap.
Tío Bruno clenches his jaw and reaches down to help the kid, but he can't hide the fact that he's in considerable pain.
"Esta bien, mijo," Bruno murmurs, paling slightly as Antonio shoves his face into his uncle's chest. He pulls the kid into an awkward one-armed hug.
Dolores is staring too. She knows she is, and she can't help it.
His face is bruised and swollen, his lip is split, his right wrist is bandaged, and he was limping on his way to the table. Her tío looks terrible.
Antonio mutters something unintelligible into Bruno's ruana, and the man sighs and holds him tighter before looking up and across the table at Luisa.
"Thank you."
He's so quiet they almost can't hear him in spite of the fact that he's the only person to have spoken since he sat down at the table.
Luisa swallows, and nods, but doesn't say anything in return.
Dolores doesn't know what to say-none of them do. And the adults don't seem to be doing any better.
Bruno is staring at his plate, one arm still wrapped around Antonio, who Dolores is pretty sure is crying. He's not even pretending to eat.
It's Abuela who finally breaks the silence with one word.
"Bruno."
The man himself flinches, and it doesn't escape Dolores's notice the way everyone at the table shifts, suddenly defensive. The adults look apprehensive. The other kids wary.
Dolores hates this. Family shouldn't be like this. It shouldn't feel like there's a silent war going on. They shouldn't have to worry about what Abuela might say to her uncle the morning after he got cornered in an alley and beaten up.
He shouldn't have to worry.
Abuela clears her throat, and Bruno can't help himself. He looks up, meeting her eyes for all of two seconds before his gaze drops to her hands.
"Augustín told me what happened last night," Abuela says, and Dolores isn't sure what to do with the look of panic that flashes in one uncle's eyes as his head jerks back up to meet her gaze once more.
She's even less certain what to do with the way the other slouches in his seat, his shoulders drooping, guilt plainly written across his face.
Abuela takes a deep breath, and all eyes are now on her, waiting to see what she will say. Whether she's going to excuse what happened, or worse, blame it on Bruno himself.
Bruno is staring at his mother as if waiting for a death sentence.
"This should never have happened," Abuela says, and something loosens ever so slightly in Dolores's chest. "It should never have been allowed to get to this point, mijo. I am so, so sorry."
Bruno looks surprised, and that hurts almost more than Dolores can bear. Beside him, her mother is stiff, tears running down her face.
"I will speak with the people of the Encanto," Abuela continues. "I will explain to them that you are not to blame for the bad things that have happened-that you never were. And I will make it clear that what happened last night was wrong-and that it will not happen again."
Bruno nods but doesn't seem able to speak.
He also doesn't look particularly relieved.
Augustín waits patiently as the table slowly clears, most of the family sneaking looks in Bruno's direction but no one seeming to know what to say, and this, he thinks, is part of the problem.
Julieta places a gentle arm on his shoulder before leaving, one that he still flinches under, and tries not to look hurt as she turns away.
Félix looks at his wife, still seated woodenly beside her brother while she stares down at her plate, then at Antonio, who seems to have cried himself to sleep in Bruno's lap.
Bruno is doing a terrible job of pretending that his nephew isn't hurting him. He's doing an awful job in general of pretending that he's even remotely okay, even though most of his sobrinos are watching him, all of them worried, most of them nervous.
Well, except possibly Camilo.
Camilo looks pissed.
None of them know what to do, though. They were all so young before he left, young enough that most of the time the adults were able to keep it from them, when he wasn't well-whether because of his gift or something else.
Félix offers to take Antonio, and nobody comments on the way Bruno is clearly not comfortable having the other man close enough to touch him.
He sighs in relief, though, when his lap is empty again.
"What do you need?" Mirabel asks, and her tío's had snaps up. He stares at her for a long moment, his mouth trying to work, but never gets anything out. It's possible he doesn't know what he needs.
"Can I hug you?" she finally asks. And he nods, but it's a fragile sort of nod, and when Mirabel slips around the table to embrace him, she's careful.
Dolores tilts her head, and Isabela lets out a small sigh through her nose, and Bruno looks around.
"It's okay," he says. "I'll be okay. I've-"
"So help me, tío, if you say you've had worse-" Dolores doesn't finish, and really, there's nothing threatening in the statement, but Bruno looks over at her and blushes.
He shrugs, once he's recovered enough to do anything. "I have," he says. "First time I've been rescued by a rat and one of my sobrinas, though, I'll admit. And you heard your Abuela. She's going to put a stop to it. It won't happen again."
Augustín can tell he doesn't believe it. Worse, most of the children look like they aren't quite convinced either. He wonders if he did the right thing, and whether it will make any kind of difference at all.
One by one, the children wander off. Camilo is the last to leave, and he keeps looking at Bruno like he wants to say something, but whatever it is, he never gets it out. Augustín doesn't know if it's because his mother is still sitting there right beside Bruno, or if something else is holding him back, but after what seems like forever, he sighs and excuses himself.
Bruno watches him go.
When the last of the children are finally gone, he turns to his sister.
"You will not go looking for him," he says, and his voice is stronger than it's been all day. His sister's eyebrows raise.
"You never said who it was," she counters. "How could I even know for sure it was him?"
They stare each other down, and for all that he was left bloodied and beaten in an alley the night before, there is no give in Bruno now.
"Will you teach your children that it's okay to repay violence with violence?" he asks, and Pepa flushes.
"Will you teach them that it's okay to stand by and let this sort of thing happen?" she demands angrily.
Bruno sighs. Just like that, the fight goes out of him. "I don't want to see you hurt," he says. "Marco is bigger than you, and as angry as you might be, the kids don't need to see two of us like this-even if you won, whatever that means, it would be at a cost."
Pepa lets out sigh, but she knows he's right.
"I could just threaten him a little," she tries. "Or yell at him."
"It wouldn't change anything."
"It would make me feel better."
Bruno smiles, then winces as his lip cracks. "Ouch."
Pepa reaches for a handkerchief and presses white cloth against his bleeding lip. "Do you think Mamá can stop it from happening again?" she asks.
Bruno closes his eyes briefly as if in pain. "I don't know," he admits. "I think she could have, once."
"I don't think she knew it was this bad."
"What did she think would happen?" Pepa flinches, but Bruno sounds tired and bitter rather than angry. "She knew, when it happened the first time. Everybody knew. And she made it my fault."
Pepa looks horrified. "Bruno-"
"He beat me up because I told him his brother was going to drown, and then he did." Bruno's voice is calm, even, and alarmingly detached. "If I hadn't told him-if I hadn't seen it happen in the first place-then he wouldn't have come after me. I was clearly the one at fault. Not him-not for assaulting me. But me, for having the damned vision in the first place."
Pepa looks as if she wants to argue but can't think of anything to say.
"Every time someone got mad at me after and no one came to my defense only served to drive the point home. I saw bad things, and then they happened. I was to blame. And you wondered why I tried to avoid having them."
"I'm sorry," Pepa says, crying again, and Bruno sighs.
"That wasn't fair," he admits, gingerly wrapping an arm around her. "You were a kid, just like me. So was Juli. And Mamí never meant for this to happen. It just-went wrong, somehow."
Pepa leans into the hug. "I hit him, the first time," she admits. "Knocked him down and jumped on him and everyone was too afraid of me to pull me off of him."
Bruno snorts. "He was five years older than you, Pepita."
"And he had two black eyes and a bloody nose by the time I was done." Pepa tries to smirk. It comes out weak and trembling. "And he was too busy screaming bloody murder to even try to defend himself. They told Mamá, his parents did. And she made me apologize. Said we had to keep the peace."
Both siblings let out a small sigh at that.
Pepa raises her head slightly. She doesn't look at her brother, her gaze instead settling on something off in the distance.
"I won't go after him on one condition," she says, and Bruno tenses. When he doesn't ask her to elaborate, she continues anyway. "If someone hurts you again-or even threatens you-you come find us. No ignoring it because 'it's not too bad' or you don't want to bother anybody. This can't be allowed to continue, and if you won't let me deal with it, then we tell Mamá, and let her take care of it. And if she doesn't-"
Pepa doesn't finish. Her shoulders are slumped, her head down, as if she doesn't know how to finish her sentence, as if very afraid of what might happen if Abuela cannot stop it from happening again.
"That sounds like more than one condition," Bruno says mildly, and gets a glare for his trouble. "I'll agree, though. Believe it or not, I don't have a death wish."
"You act like it, sometimes." Pepa's tone is sour. Bruno looks away.
Pepa doesn't press the matter, looking around instead, and seems to realize that Augustín is still with them. She raises an eyebrow at him, silently demanding, and he looks away.
"You gonna be okay if I leave you here for a bit?" she asks. "I promise I won't go looking for anyone."
Bruno also seems to have noticed Augustín. He nods, reluctantly, and resists the urge to duck his head as she kisses to top of it.
He watches her go, and Augustín is content to wait. It is only once she has vanished completely from sight that Bruno turns his attention back to his cuñado.
For a long time they sit there in silence, Bruno watching him, his expression blank in a way that is frankly terrifying, Augustín refusing to look away.
If he has to betray his brother-in-law's trust in order to keep something like this from ever happening again, so be it. If he's ruined any future chance at a relationship with the man, he's willing to accept that as well, so long as he never again has to look his daughter in the face and try to explain why he stood by and did nothing to try to stop it.
It is, unsurprisingly, Bruno who looks away first. The man has never been good at maintaining eye contact.
Augustín sighs. "I won't apologize. I should have said something a long time ago."
Bruno's shoulders hunch forward. He stares down at a plate he's hardly touched, cold food still uneaten. "It wouldn't have done any good."
Augustín supposes it's a good sign that the other man is talking to him at all.
"You don't know that," he says, and Bruno laughs, a soft, nearly silent huff of air, and shakes his head.
"I should be angry." Augustín shrugs. "Or relieved, I guess, since Mamí says she's going to put a stop to it. If she can put a stop to it." Bruno looks up, meeting Augustín's gaze for half of a second. "What I really am is tired. I thought, with my gift gone, that things would be better. That I-" He sighs, but doesn't finish the thought.
"My middle child asked me last night why anyone was allowed to hurt you in the first place." Bruno winces, but otherwise doesn't respond to the confession. "I didn't have an answer for her, because there is none. Nothing that you have ever done-or seen-justifies what happened to you last night-or any other night, for that matter."
Bruno reacts then, offering him a tight, humorless smile. "You have no idea the things I've seen."
"We've had this conversation before. Seeing bad things happen doesn't make your responsible-unless you went out of your way to make sure they happened, after."
Bruno shudders, but doesn't reply. Augustín remains where he is, waiting. If Bruno wants to say something, he will. If he decides he wants to leave, that's fine too. But Augustín isn't about to walk away now, just because the silence between them is uncomfortable.
"You know, it would have meant everything to me, to hear those words when I was a kid."
Augustín looks up. He's pretty sure he knows what Bruno is talking about, but his cuñado continues anyway.
"To have someone tell me that it wasn't my fault. That I didn't make things happen just by seeing them." He rolls his shoulders, then winces. "To have someone tell me I didn't deserve what Marco did to me. Especially if it came from Mamí."
"Someone should have said all of that and more." Augustín says. "Your mother should have been the first to say it."
Bruno shrugs. "She said it today," he points out, his tone weary. "I suppose that has to count for something."
Camilo is angry.
No. Not angry.
He's far beyond angry. He's not sure there's even a word for how angry he is.
He needs to do something. He wants to go find the person who hurt his uncle.
He doesn't have his gift anymore, though, and there's not much a scrawny teen can do against a full-grown adult, especially not one as big as Señor Perez.
He goes looking for Señor Rodriguez instead. Maybe he can go pound some nails into some wood or something. At least find some sort of outlet for his pent-up energy.
Señor Rodriguez offers him a hammer and a bucket of nails and sets him loose on the roof with a warning to be careful.
He's watching him, though. Camilo can tell.
He appreciates the man giving him his space, and tries not to waste any nails, just because he's upset.
He works through the morning, ignoring the sweat that trickles down his face and neck and back, ignoring the blisters threatening to form on his hand, and ignoring the ache that eventually starts in his arm and shoulder. He stays up there, working, until movement at the far end of the roof catches his eye.
Señor Rodriguez is back.
Camilo pauses and wipes the sweat from his forehead. And he gathers his tools even though he doesn't feel like stopping, because even though he's still so angry he doesn't really know what to do with himself he doesn't want to say something that will make Señor Rodriguez regret letting him help and end up with him being told to go find someone else to bother.
He sits down to lunch with the man, though he really doesn't want to, and realizes abruptly that the two of them are not alone.
Mariano is there, looking flushed and not too happy himself.
Señor Rodriguez looks from one of them to the other. "Eat," he says. "Or at least take a break. I can understand needing to work through some things, but you don't need to make yourselves sick in the process."
Camilo almost glares at him. Señor Rodriguez doesn't bat an eye.
"If you want to talk, I'm here," he adds, his tone gentle.
"What's there to talk about?" Camilo asks. "Someone beat the shit out of my uncle last night, and when Abuela told him it wasn't his fault and won't happen again he looked surprised."
Mariano looks up. "Did they figure out who did it?"
Camilo shrugs. "He won't say. Pretty sure it was Perez, though. He's threatened Bruno more than once since Casita fell."
At least Mariano also looks angry, though the emotion is completely out of place on the guy's face. Camilo's used to the man looking all romantic and sappy. Anger doesn't really work for him.
"My mother was horrified," Mariano admits. "I thought she hated him, Señor Madrigal, but now-"
"So what, it's a good thing he was attacked because now your mom doesn't hate him anymore?" Mariano flinches, and Camilo knows he's being cruel, but he can't bring himself to care.
Mariano doesn't argue, though, and that just makes Camilo angrier. He stands up. "Thanks for lunch," he says, though he hasn't really eaten anything. "I'm going back to work."
He doesn't know how long he's been back on the roof when once again something moves in the corner of his eye. He turns, fully expecting it to be Señor Rodriguez, possibly to scold him for acting like a jerk earlier, and nearly drops his hammer when he's met with the sight of a familiar green ruana.
Bruno's hood is pulled up to cover most of his face, but his steps are still hesitant as he eases his way off the ladder and onto the roof itself.
Camilo stares, and Bruno stares back for a moment before lowering the hood. His face is as battered as it was at breakfast. It makes Camilo's stomach churn.
"Hi," Bruno says uncertainly, like he's not entirely certain what he's doing up here.
"Hi."
Camilo waits for the man to say something, turning his attention back to his work when several minutes go by in silence.
He stops when Bruno moves again, this time coming to stand right beside him.
"Hi."
"That all you have to say?"
Bruno flinches, and Camilo immediately regrets his outburst, but he doesn't apologize. He should, he wants to, but the words are caught in his chest in a jumbled-up mess of anger and the dozen other feelings he can't quite sort through and are currently trying to strangle him, and he's afraid if he opens his mouth to speak he's going to start crying, which really isn't fair because he's not the one who's hurt.
Bruno sits down carefully on the roof without saying a word, and Camilo doesn't know what to do so he sits down beside him and carefully sets the hammer where it won't fall.
Bruno's elbow brushes his arm, and it doesn't matter whether it's an accident or intentional, because suddenly Camilo is crying after all, and his uncle is wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close, and then he's bawling onto his tío's shoulder like a baby while Bruno just sits and holds him, and occasionally pats his back, and doesn't say a word the entire time.
"Sorry," Camilo says, when the tears finally stop. He feels stupid. He wasn't the one hurt.
Bruno lets him pull away, then shifts into a slightly more comfortable position. "It's never easy, seeing someone hurt," he says, as if it makes perfect sense for Camilo to be the one crying, and his tío to be the one offering comfort. "I always hated that part of my gift."
Camilo doesn't know what to say to that, so he doesn't say anything. After a moment, Bruno turns and meets his gaze.
"It was bad enough, when it was someone I didn't know. But watching something bad happen to someone I knew, someone I cared about, that was even worse." He sounds nervous, and Camilo can tell he wants to look away. "I always felt so helpless."
Camilo leans till his arm is barely pressed against his uncle's. "I'm angry," he admits. "I've never wanted to hurt someone before. Not like this."
Bruno tilts his head slightly. "Marco was angry when I told him his brother was going to drown," he says, infuriatingly calm. "He thought it was my fault; that it made what-what he did okay."
Camilo lets out a long sigh. "But it wasn't your fault."
Bruno shrugs. "He thinks it is."
"He's wrong." Camilo frowns at his uncle. "Are you saying I shouldn't be angry? He hurt you. Again. What if Alejandro hadn't been able to find you?"
Bruno grins at that, offering Camilo a lop-sided smile that is more than a little unstable and just a bit sad. "There's a reason I train them to go to people."
Camilo's staring, and he knows it. His uncle looks away.
"That's not the only reason," he admits reluctantly. "I shouldn't have said anything. You didn't need to know that. Sorry."
"At least we know Alejandro knows how to find you."
The grin is back, this time a little less desperate. "True," Bruno concedes. He sighs. "I remember when you were just a baby. Now look at you."
Camilo chuckles. Some of the tightness in his chest eases, just a little.
Mirabel is helping Antonio with his rats when Bruno slips in the back door without a word. She's impressed when her primo takes the time to carefully set the rat he's holding back in the box with the others before throwing himself at his tío, but not overly reassured by the way Bruno doesn't quite catch him, sinking to the floor and pulling him into a hug as he starts crying all over again.
"Esta bien, Toñito," he murmurs softly. "Estoy bien."
Mirabel's not sure he is. He missed lunch. She knows he didn't eat anything at breakfast. His face is still bruised, his wrist still bandaged.
He looks up at her, and manages a small, insincere smile. "I'll be all right," he says, this time for her.
She comes over to sit next to him. She doesn't really know what to say, or how to help, or whether she even can help.
Antonio eventually cries himself out, but refuses to leave his uncle's lap, so they end up spending the rest of the afternoon in the kitchen floor, with Mirabel getting up to heat milk from the rats and bringing it over so the other two can feed them-the box of rats stays on the floor with them after the first time.
"Does it hurt?" Antonio asks after a while, reaching out and brushing Bruno's bruised face with tiny fingers. His uncle winces, but doesn't pull away.
"A little," he admits. "But it feels a lot better than it did."
"Alejandro was scared."
"He was very brave."
"I was scared too."
"You were brave too."
Mirabel can't help but smile at the two of them, even though her tío's hurt-even though someone in the Encanto did this to him-and even though Antonio's eyes are still red from crying.
"Were you scared, Tío?" Antonio asks, and Bruno takes a deep breath.
"I was," he says, swallowing nervously, and Antonio wraps his arms around the man's torso and hugs him just a little too tight, judging by the way his uncle closes his eyes and takes another breath.
"Then you were brave too, Tío." He lets go and leans back and smiles up at Bruno. "You're the bravest person I know."
Bruno looks away, and sniffs, and Mirabel isn't sure whether he's touched by the declaration, or simply doesn't believe it.
"He is brave," Mirabel tells Antonio. "And he'd do whatever he had to, to help our family."
Antonio grins at her. "I know that."
Dinner is uncomfortable at best.
Antonio insists on climbing up into Bruno's lap, and the rest of the table is forced to pretend they don't notice the way he grimaces every time his nephew moves even a little bit.
Bruno's still only picking at his food, and Julieta really wants to say something because she knows he hasn't eaten anything today, but she also has no idea how to say anything without making everything worse.
Even Mamá doesn't really seem to know what to do. She spoke to the villagers, Julieta knows, just as she said she would, and though no one argued with her, there were a lot of skeptical faces out there.
The thought that it may not have been enough terrifies her.
"I finished the roof."
Camilo's voice is loud and harsh and cuts through the silence like a knife, causing nearly everyone at the table to flinch.
Bruno looks up.
"Señor Rodriguez had to wrap my hands. I had so many blisters." He offers up his bandaged hands up for inspection, causing Pepa to hiss and Julieta to feel guilty for not being able to fix it. "He told me to take tomorrow off."
Bruno snorts. For some reason the sound causes most of the table to tense.
"You gonna eat that?" Camilo asks, and Pepa leans forward to scold him.
The words die on her lips as Bruno cuts the end off his tamale takes a bite before waving permission for his nephew to help himself to the rest.
Camilo deftly separates a similar sized piece from the tamale before helping himself to the rest. Bruno rolls his eyes at his nephew and pops the rest in his mouth.
Camilo grins smugly at his sister, who is giving him a look, before turning and winking at Julieta as if he's just done something incredibly clever, and she's in on the joke.
If there is a joke, Julieta is certainly not in on it.
"Are you going to be all right on the floor?" Mirabel asks as they get ready for bed.
"I'll be fine," Bruno assures her and Dolores both.
Neither is particularly reassured.
"I'm going to be uncomfortable no matter what," he concedes, when it becomes clear that neither of them believes him. "I will be less uncomfortable if I don't have to worry about finding somewhere else to sleep tonight, or about bothering people in the process."
"You're not a bother," Dolores says. She gets an utterly unconvincing shrug for her efforts.
Mirabel shakes her head at the man. "Nobody's going to be upset if you can't sleep on the floor after what happened last night."
"Maybe not," Bruno says, his voice soft. "But I'm tired, and I'd much rather plop down right here than deal with figuring something else out. I can't deal with any more people looking at me like I'm broken tonight."
"Nobody thinks you're broken," Mirabel tries, but she's seen the looks too. "They're still not used to people having to heal without Mom's gift. That's all. They'll get used to it."
Her uncle clearly doesn't believe her, but since he doesn't argue either, she decides not to fight him about sleeping on the floor.
"If you change your mind, let us know," she says, even though she's pretty sure he'd rather lie awake all night and be uncomfortable than wake her up.
He nods anyway, and they settle down for the night.
Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! It's always great to hear what you think. We're getting close on this one, I think, but never fear. I'm not near done yet.
Disclaimer: Disney's Encanto does not belong to me.