It's late. Augustín is on his way home for the evening and he can't stop smiling because he's just spent the entire day with Julieta Madrigal, and he's pretty sure he wants to marry her.

He's known her most of his life, true. As clumsy as he is, as accident prone, she's healed him with her food a lot over the years. And their interactions, during those times, have always been friendly, and pleasant, and really, in spite of the injuries making them necessary in the first place, overall rather enjoyable.

He's surprised it took him as long as it did to realize that he liked her, though. True, for a while he thought maybe he just appreciated that she was always willing to help him, and never seemed to get tired of seeing him around. Never got annoyed with his near constant tendency toward injury.

But about a month ago he had to face the truth. He liked Julieta Madrigal. He liked her a lot. As in, saw flowers and thought maybe he should take some to her. Or saw jewelry in the shop windows and wondered what it would look like hanging from her lovely neck or around her slender wrist. Or smelled arepas cooking and immediately thought of her.

Anyway, he eventually managed to ask her out, a few days after the revelation that he would really enjoy spending more time with her. And she said yes, and they started hanging out, and really, it felt like they'd known each other all their lives. It felt natural. It felt-right.

He figures it's probably too soon to bring all this up, especially since it's only been a couple of weeks, and Pepa, Julieta's sister, has already accosted him on no less than three separate occasions, warning him not to break her sister's heart, and Señora Madrigal has been studying him intently from the first time Julieta introduced them as if trying to decide whether or not he's worthy of seeing her daughter.

Félix, Pepa's husband, is great. He's made Augustín feel welcome from day one, given him tips on getting along with all of the other family members, including his own wife, who he is clearly head-over-heels in love with, and Bruno, who Augustín has yet to actually meet.

He knows who the man is, of course. Everyone does. He's seen him from afar, on one of his increasingly rare visits into town-the man is a bit of a recluse, and most of the town seems to prefer it that way.

The rumors say he's bad luck. That his prophecies are never good, and that his arrival never brings anything but bad news.

Augustín doesn't know one way or another. He thinks they might have crossed paths once, when both of them were much, much younger, but doesn't really remember much about the interaction.

And the family doesn't really talk about him much, either. Not so far. Not to Augustín. There have been a few comments, during the times he's been over for lunch or dinner, about the man missing yet another meal, but other than that, he hasn't really been discussed. It seems a bit odd, but maybe they just don't want to talk about him in front of Julieta's new novio.

He's pretty sure he's her boyfriend, at least. They spend a lot of time together. And he's pretty sure Pepa wouldn't waste time threatening him if they were just friends.

Augustín is also pretty sure he needs Señora Madrigal's approval, though. Maybe Bruno's? After all, he is Julieta's brother. He's not entirely certain she needs her brother's approval to continue dating him (if, indeed, they are dating), but it would be nice.

Of course, actually meeting the man seems to be a bit difficult. Augustín has spent a fair amount of time with Julieta, often in town, but a good bit in the kitchen of Casita as well, and he has been over for more than a few meals, and during that time the man has mostly kept out of sight.

Julieta mostly just shrugs, and looks uncomfortable, and says something about her brother not feeling well, and Augustín has so far been content to leave it at that.

Augustín pauses and looks around. The sun is setting; it'll be dark soon. He's not sure why he stopped-he thinks he heard something, but again, he's not sure what.

There.

Someone's throwing up in the side alley Augustín just passed. He hesitates, debating with himself, because if someone's just had too much to drink he doesn't really want to get involved, but if someone's sick or hurt-

It's a bit early for someone to have simply overdone it, though, and it's a fair walk from most of the taverns. Augustín retraces his steps and turns, looking down the alley in the fading light.

There's a small, hunched over figure on his hands and knees, retching. He's far enough away from the street that Augustín might never have known he was there if he hadn't heard him.

He sighs, because while he's not unsympathetic to the man's plight-if it is a man-and he certainly doesn't want to leave him to fend for himself, whoever he is, Augustín absolutely hates the smell of vomit. His stomach is already churning just listening to whoever it is, and he's not entirely sure he won't start gagging when he gets over there, if the person hasn't already stopped.

"Hey," he says as he approaches. He's not prepared for the other man's reaction-and he's sure it's a man now. His dark hair is a bit long, and he's dressed in a loose-fitting ruana that almost hides how thin he is underneath it, but he's clearly male.

His head snaps up, wide eyes locking with Augustín's for less than a second before he throws himself back, scrambling to put distance between them before stumbling and falling. He hits the ground with a yelp and curls into the fetal position, face buried in his arms as if to hide-or protect himself.

"You okay?" Augustín isn't really sure what else to say, even though the man is clearly not. He's also trying to place the figure curled up on the ground before him, and he looks familiar-Augustín feels he should know him, but maybe it's just the fact that they're meeting in an alley after dark, and one of them is currently cowering in fear.

Augustín kneels down beside the man and places a hand on his arm, only for him to jerk away from his touch. "Are you hurt?" he asks. "Are you sick?"

"Don't-please, don't-" There's a tremor in the other man's voice, and it takes a moment for Augustín to understand that the person lying on the ground next to him is terrified.

Of him.

Augustín feels sick to his stomach at the thought-he's never hurt anyone in his life, never even considered it. There's no reason for anyone to be afraid of him, but here-

"I'm not going to hurt you," he says, because the miserable mass of person before him seems to be trying to curl up into an even tighter ball, something Augustín is not sure is even possible. "It's okay."

His attempt at offering reassurance is met with a derisive snort followed by a muffled sob. He tries to reach out again, and though the man flinches when Augustín lays a hand on his shoulder, he doesn't pull away this time.

"Are you hurt?" Augustín asks again. He doesn't have any of Julieta's food on him, but he doubts she would turn anyone away.

"I'm-fine."

He's clearly not. Augustín wonders if there's any point in saying as much.

"Can I help you up, at least?" he asks. He doesn't miss the way the man stiffens when he moves his hand, but ignores it, adjusting his grip so he can ease the stranger up off the ground, just a little bit. "Can you stand?"

"M-Maybe," the answer is not reassuring, but the other man pushes himself up with his free arm, and Augustín takes the opportunity to hoist him to his feet.

His companion is much shorter than he is, which is not as big of a surprise as it might be-Augustín isn't exactly lacking when it comes to height. What is surprising is that when the man's hood falls back to reveal a black eye, a bloodied and likely broken nose, a busted lip, and more cuts and bruising along the cheekbone and forehead, Augustín is pretty sure he recognizes the person behind the battered face.

He's just not sure why Bruno Madrigal currently looks like this.

Julieta's brother meets his gaze for a second-long enough for Augustín to clearly read fear and shame in the other man's eyes-before clutching at his abdomen and doubling over.

His knees try to give out, and Augustín has to catch Bruno to keep the man from hitting the ground. Bruno starts heaving again, and Augustín braces him only to realize that the only thing coming up is blood.

"Bruno?" he asks, and if he was worried before, he's frightened now, because the man is leaning heavily on him, and he doesn't weigh near what a grown man should. "Are you-?"

Bruno starts coughing, bringing up more blood, and all Augustín can do for a torturously long minute is hold the man up and wait for him to finish.

When he finally stops, wiping his mouth with one hand, he refuses to look up. "S-Sorry," he mutters. "I just-I just need a minute."

"What happened?" Augustín asks. Bruno cringes, but doesn't answer. The man is shaking and his skin, in the fading light, is pale. "Let's get you out of this alley," he says, because the man doesn't seem inclined to move on his own.

Augustín moves, and Bruno tries to move with him, only to nearly go down once again. It doesn't take long for Augustín to realize the other man can't put any weight on his left leg.

"Sorry-" Bruno gasps. "I can't-"

Augustín stoops down so he can better support the injured man. Bruno hisses as they start moving, but otherwise offers no complaint, and somehow they make it to the street, Augustín practically dragging the smaller man along with him.

He maneuvers Bruno to a nearby bench and the other man slides into it gratefully, hunching in on himself and watching Augustín out of the corner of his eye, as if he expects his sister's novio to lash out at him if he doesn't keep an eye on him.

"I don't have any of Julieta's food on me," Augustín apologizes. "But I can go get her-"

"No!" Bruno's head snaps up, and his eye, at least the one that's not currently swollen nearly shut, is wide with sudden fear. He forces himself to take a labored breath. "No, I-I don't want to bother her. Please."

"You're hurt, amigo," Augustín points out. "I'm not sure you can make it back yourself." Bruno's head drops, conceding the point. "I could try to sneak something from the kitchen, and bring it back to you," he offers, but the other man looks only slightly less fearful than he did before.

He's also looking around nervously, as if expecting trouble, and a thought occurs to Augustín, one he does not particularly care for.

"What happened?" he asks again. "Did you fall?" Except he knows the man didn't. Augustín has been involved in enough accidents over the years to know that there is no way Bruno accidentally hurt himself this badly, especially not in a side alley, where no one was likely to see him from the street, and where he had no business being in the first place.

Bruno freezes.

"Someone did this to you, didn't they?" Augustín isn't really asking, and he can't hid the horror in his voice, either. Bruno flinches, but doesn't look up.

He doesn't need to.

"I-they were upset. I-I usually don't-my visions aren't usually good news." Bruno utters the words as if they are a confession, and as if the admission will absolve his attackers from their sins.

Bruno's pressing his arm against his side. His clothes are torn and bloodied. The man has been thoroughly beaten, most likely by more than one person, Augustín thinks, and the more he notices, the more surprised he is that the other man made it up off the ground at all, even with his help.

Which creates a problem. Because Augustín isn't sure Bruno can make it back to la Casa Madrigal, but he sure as hell can't leave the man alone while he goes for help.

Bruno takes what is probably meant to be a steadying breath, but instead it ends up sending him into another coughing fit. Augustín tries not to stare as his blood splatters on the sidewalk at their feet.

"Lo siento," Bruno murmurs when he finally gets his coughing back under control. He hesitates for a moment, refusing to look at Augustín. "I need-I don't think I can-I don't think I can make it home like this. Not-not without help." His voice, already a bit ragged, takes on a desperate tone. "Por favor-"

He jerks forward and starts coughing again. When it finally stops, there's way too much blood on the ground, and Augustín is pretty sure that if he doesn't do something Bruno's going to be dead by morning.

The man is no longer entirely lucid as Augustín drags him to his feet, but Bruno doesn't try to fight him off, so he takes that as a victory.

Maybe it's not the best decision. Maybe it's actually the worst thing he could do, but Augustín doesn't feel comfortable leaving the man alone, not with his current injuries. Not with the knowledge that someone-several people, most likely-did this to him.

It's a long, painfully slow process, getting Bruno moving. One agonizing step at a time, and the man is no longer looking where they're going-his one good eye is squeezed shut, and Augustín is pretty sure those are tears trickling down the side of his face.

He doesn't say anything, though. Bruno's still shaking, and every once in a while he doubles over as if he's been punched in the gut, and the farther they go, the less the man seems able to support his own meager weight, and the more he leans on Augustín.

Every so often they're forced to stop while the man coughs-or vomits-up blood.

Bruno smells like blood, and sweat, and vomit, and Augustín is pretty sure the man's clothes are covered in the same-his own clothes too now, most likely, a small part of him notes. The current state of his clothes are the least of his worries right now.

Bruno sways suddenly, one hand clutching at Augustín's vest as if for support as he stumbles, and for a moment Augustín is certain they're both going down.

Bruno's breathing never quite evens out, but eventually they start moving again.

Casita is quiet by the time they reach her. Dark. Señora Madrigal and Julieta are early risers. Pepa-though certainly not a morning person-and her husband generally get up early as well.

Augustín feels like an intruder, and he's not entirely sure he's only imagining that Bruno is shrinking even farther into himself as they reach the front door.

"Casita, por favor-" he whispers hoarsely.

The door slides open without a sound.

They somehow make it to the kitchen before Bruno starts coughing again, and all Augustín can think to do is prop him up against the sink and hope the man stays there while he searches the kitchen for leftovers.

He finds a plate full of carimañolas-meat and cheese wrapped in fried yuca dough-carefully set aside, possibly for Bruno, since he wasn't at dinner, and brings them to the sink.

Bruno takes one look at the carimañolas and shudders. He reaches for one anyway, and tears a piece off the end.

He chews it carefully, his body spasming as he does, then swallows. He starts gagging almost immediately, and Augustín is pretty sure that small bite is going to come back up before it can do anything.

Bruno stumbles to the table and practically falls into a chair. His head drops, hitting the table with a soft thud that makes Augustín wince.

Bruno manages to keep his bite of carimañola down. The bruises are already beginning to fade, and the man seems to be breathing a bit easier now.

When he finally raises his head, his face is still streaked with dirt and sweat and tears and dried blood, but the actual injuries are gone, healed with just one bite of his sister's food.

He won't quite meet Augustín's gaze, though. The physical injuries from the night might have been healed, but the beating he took tonight have done more than just physical damage.

"Thank you," Bruno's voice is more controlled now, but still very soft. "I-" he stops, and swallows nervously.

Augustín tries for a smile that he hopes is reassuring. "I couldn't just leave you there," he says.

Bruno blinks at him, his expression solemn. "Yes," he says. "You could have." There is a blankness in his eyes that suggests that Augustín might not even have been the first person to come across him in that back alley tonight.

Bruno sighs, and shakes his head. "It's late," he says. "There's a spare room, if you want to stay the night."

Augustín looks at the man, just a little incredulous and more than a little flustered. Maybe it's because Bruno's so tired. Maybe he's just not thinking things through before he says.

"What?" Bruno asks, as if he can feel Augustín staring.

Augustín scratches his head, "Well, I just-maybe-I'm not really sure we've met-"

"I know who you are," Bruno says bluntly.

"Right." The thing is, Augustín wouldn't actually take advantage of the situation, but the fact that the opportunity was there, people might talk-

Maybe he doesn't know?

"Well, the thing is, Julieta and I-that is-I mean, I think we might-"

"You're dating Juli." Bruno is staring at him now, clearly baffled. "What's your point?" Augustín is more than a little thrown.

"People might talk?" Bruno looks frustrated, and in spite of everything that's happened tonight, Augustín finds it just a bit endearing.

"About what? Me inviting you to stay in the guest room?"

Augustín wonders if he's really that naive. "About me staying the night at mi novia's. They might suggest that-" he clears his throat, feels his cheeks redden, "-that I might take advantage of the situation?"

Bruno is still staring. Augustín doesn't think he's the one misunderstanding the current issue, but Bruno doesn't seem to be catching on.

"That I might take advantage of your-um-sister?" he cringes as understanding finally seems to dawn, but Bruno's expression only seems to darken.

"That's ridiculous," he says, shaking his head dismissively, "She likes you, you like her, why does it matter if-never mind." He seems to catch himself at the last minute, shaking his head. "Do what you want, I guess."

He drags himself to his feet slowly, as if Julieta's food has not been entirely successful in healing him, and Augustín looks the man over again, worried.

Bruno notices and waves him off. "I'll see you out, then, if you're sure you won't stay."

Honestly, Augustín would rather stay. It's late, and he's just spent the last couple of hours dragging a broken, bleeding man home, and his back hurts, and he's exhausted.

Bruno looks about ready to collapse himself. He looks Augustín over. "I guess-I'll see you out, then."

He doesn't look like he has the energy to make it to the front door and back upstairs, not in his current state, and Augustín finds it interesting, in spite of how tired he's suddenly realized he is, because he's not used to seeing people still look like this after eating Julieta's food.

Still, he allows the man to lead him from the kitchen.

And reaches out an arm to steady Bruno as he suddenly sways on his feet, not at all convinced the man isn't going to fall.

"S-Sorry," Bruno mutters unsteadily, and Augustín suddenly finds himself reconsidering the man's offer, mostly because he's no longer sure Bruno's going to make it up the stairs on his own.

"No worries," Augustín manages. "Uh, maybe I'll take you up on your offer after all. It's pretty late, after all..."

Bruno just shrugs, as if he no longer has the strength to care. He alters his course, leading Augustín toward the second floor.

"Shit."

They're halfway up the stairs when Bruno swears and stumbles, and by some miracle Augustín manages to catch him without also going down.

"Bruno?"

The other man doesn't reply. His eyes are glowing bright green.

Augustín is once again supporting all his weight, only this time, balanced precariously on the stairs, he's starting to struggle. Carefully he shifts, easing them both down until Augustín is sitting, holding the other man's upper body more or less in his lap.

He's not prepared for Bruno to jerk, nearly ripping himself out of Augustín's grip and in the process almost tumbling down the stairs. Augustín tightens his grip, only for Bruno's back to arch and his entire body to go rigid.

Tears are streaming down the man's face, and he seems to be fighting not to cry out. It's obvious that Bruno is in pain, and Augustín doesn't know what to do, or what's gone wrong.

How could his vision-his gift-be hurting him?

But it is, clearly. There's no denying that Bruno is in pain, as his body finally goes limp in Augustín's arms and he can longer hold back a small moan.

"Please," he whimpers. "I don't-I don't-"

Augustín doesn't know what to do as Bruno starts sobbing. He's shaking in the younger man's arms, his entire body trembling from head to toe. All Augustín can do is sit there and make sure Bruno doesn't fall down the stairs.

He's never felt so helpless in his life.

The light in the man's eyes finally goes out. Bruno falls silent almost instantly, his eyes closing, the only sounds left his ragged breathing and Augustín's heart pounding far too loud in his ears.

"Bruno?" he finally gets the man's name out.

Bruno freezes, his eyes flying open in a panic. He stares up at Augustín in fear and confusion for a long moment, his breath hitching in his chest.

Then something clicks in those hazel eyes, and he starts breathing again.

"Vision?" he rasps, his voice harsh in the near stillness. Augustín nods, because he's not sure he can manage anything else right now.

Bruno looks around for a moment more before pulling himself unsteadily out of Augustín's arms. He fixes his sister's novio with a look that makes him feel as if he's being taken apart, thoroughly examined, and then carefully put back together. It makes him feel naked and vulnerable and more than a little flustered.

"You-I thought you were going to-I was afraid you were going to fall." Augustín can feel his cheeks getting red, and he wonders if grabbing a seer in the middle of a vision and holding them in your arms is simply not done, no matter what Augustín's intentions were.

Still, he's pretty sure Bruno would have cracked his head open if he hadn't caught him.

"Thank-thank you," Bruno finally says. "S-Sorry. I know it's-I know it's not really-Sorry you had to see that."

Augustín waves the apology off, because he's pretty sure Bruno didn't choose to have a vision halfway up the stairs. He has no idea how the man's gift works, but that much seems unlikely.

Bruno is leaning against the railing, still breathing a bit hard, and it looks like his vision has taken a lot out of him. He doesn't look capable of going anywhere anytime soon, at least not on his own.

"Should I get Julieta, or someone?" Augustín asks, and again Bruno's head snaps up abruptly.

"No!" Bruno catches himself. "No, that's not-it's not necessary. There's not really much-not much anyone can do."

Augustín considers this. He doesn't really understand what it means, but it's obvious Bruno doesn't want his sisters-or most likely his mother-involved in anything that's happened tonight.

"Please," Bruno adds, his eyes locking with Augustín's. "They'll just get upset, and I-I don't want to worry them. I'm-I'm fine."

Augustín sighs. "At least let me walk you to your room. Unless you were planning on staying here all night?"

Bruno doesn't look happy about it, but he lets Augustín help him up and, once they've made it off the stairs and he no longer has the railing for support, leans on Augustín more than he would have expected.

The reason quickly becomes clear; by the time they reach Bruno's door the man is struggling to stay on his feet. His skin is a bit gray, and his eyes are glassy and unfocused, and he doesn't seem to quite remember how walking works.

"Lo siento," he says, for what feels like the hundredth time that night. "S'been a rough day." His words are slightly slurred, and he's fumbling with the door. Augustín looks up at Bruno's image-the image is far more intimidating, far more threatening than the real thing.

"There." They both stumble as the door opens, and Augustín stares.

All he can see is stone and a curtain of falling sand.

Bruno sighs. "More stairs," he mumbles, not looking at Augustín.

He ignores it and squares his shoulders. "Through it? Or is there some magic trick?"

Bruno shakes his head. "Just go through. Mind the first step."

They pass through the curtain. Augustín almost misses the first step anyway, nearly taking them both down.

They make their way painstakingly down the stairs, and Bruno points to an alcove that Augustín would most likely not have found on his own, tucked nearly out of sight in a corner of the room.

There's a dresser, a bed, an end table, and some shelves, but not much in the way of personal belongings. Augustín settles Bruno on the bed and tries not to look like he's invading the man's privacy..

Bruno falls back into his bed with an audible groan. His eyes close, and Augustín figures that's his cue to leave.

"Fuck."

Augustín hasn't even made it out of the alcove when Bruno's voice cuts through the air. His eyes fly open, and suddenly he's leaning over the side of the bed, gagging, and Augustín is certain he's going to fall and hit his head.

He catches Bruno right before exactly that happens, and once again holds the man as he retches and heaves. There's little enough in his stomach, but it comes up anyway, and all Augustín can think is at least there's no blood this time.

Augustín is once again supporting all of Bruno's weight, and he doesn't try to straighten up even when he stops retching. Augustín isn't sure if the man's even capable at this point.

Bruno lets out a small whimper. "Dios mio," he moans.

"Bruno?" Augustín's voice somehow sounds loud in the room. Bruno flinches and grabs at his head.

"I get-I get headaches-" Bruno's voice is weak, and if his head is bothering him, it is clearly so much more than just a headache. It also came on with worryingly little warning, Augustín thinks.

"What do you need?" Augustín asks, trying to keep his voice low. Bruno shakes his head, then grimaces. "Some of Julieta's food?"

"It won't help." His voice is nearly a whisper. "I'm sorry, it's-I'm just going to have to wait it out, I-" he breaks off and starts gagging again.

Augustín doesn't know what else to do. Bruno clearly doesn't want the rest of his family involved. And while he does look miserable, he doesn't seem to be in any immediate danger, so Augustín doesn't really feel comfortable ignoring his wishes.

He also doesn't feel comfortable leaving the man alone in his current state.

He ends up holding the man, bracing him off and on as he dry heaves over the side of the bed, until he finally lets out a soft sigh and closes his eyes, his body once again going limp in Augustín's arms.

He's either asleep or unconscious. Augustín doesn't know which. He eases the man back into his bed, turning him on his side, just in case, and sits back, watching.

Augustín startles when a tiny nose with whiskers suddenly peeks out from between the end table and the wall. He's not expecting to see the rat-Julieta hates them, thinks they're disgusting and filthy, and it seems to be an opinion both Pepa and their mother share with her.

Pests, his mother always said, and Augustín is tempted to shoo it away and warn Julieta about it tomorrow-usually if there's one, there's more.

The rat seems to be looking at Bruno, though. It's a ridiculous thought, Augustín will admit, but the rat looks almost like it's studying the man.

It turns and looks at Augustín. Actually looks at him. He can feel it. Then it looks back at Bruno, and squeaks.

Bruno's breath deepens, and his eyes open ever so slightly. "Esta bien, preciosa," he murmurs. He shifts, reaching without looking toward the end table, and Augustín's breath catches in his chest as the rat scurries across the table and up his arm, stopping in front of his face, whiskers brushing his skin.

"Fue un mal dia, preciosa." Bruno breathes, closing his eyes again. "S'okay though. I'm all right."

Augustín considers the rat currently nuzzling against the other man's face. "Bruno?"

Just like that, the rat is gone. Vanished between the headboard and the wall. Bruno chuckles, though his voice is weak and more than a bit hoarse.

"She's just worried," he says. "They worry about the visions. And the headaches, when they get really bad."

"The rats?" Augustín asks. Bruno nods sleepily. He's not even half-awake, Augustín's pretty sure. "You gonna be okay if I leave now?" he asks.

Bruno opens his eyes and looks at Augustín. There's something innocent, and child-like, and very, very fragile in the man's gaze.

"I just need sleep," he says. "You don't have to stay. I'll be all right."

Augustín isn't entirely convinced. "You sure?" he asks.

Bruno nods and closes his eyes again. "Thank you. For everything."

It's a clear dismissal, and since Bruno's no longer coughing up blood or throwing up or having visions halfway up the stairs, Augustín doesn't really have any reason not to go.

He realizes, as he closes the door to Bruno's room behind him, that it's gone from very late to very early. Julieta will be up in less than an hour. The rest of the house, with the likely exception of Bruno, soon after. He doesn't really feel comfortable sleeping in their guest room while everyone else is up for the day.

To be honest, he doesn't feel like sleeping at all. A lot has happened tonight. There's a lot for Augustín to process, not least the fact that someone-or several someones-nearly killed Bruno last night, either accidentally or on purpose.

He finds himself heading to the kitchen instead of the guest room, and since Casita doesn't protest, he figures it's okay.

He's not sure, but he thinks the house is helping him find everything he needs to fix himself a cup of coffee, and damn if he doesn't need a strong cup of coffee right now, because there's a lot going through his head, now that he's no longer trying to figure out what to do with Bruno Madrigal.

He's not sure what to make of the fact that someone assaulted the man and left him for dead.

Or the fact that Bruno clearly did not want his family involved, even though he was vomiting up blood during a good bit of the trip back to Casita.

Or the fact that Casita didn't wake anyone up either.

Or the fact that Bruno's visions apparently can happen without warning, and when they do, they hurt like hell.

Or that the man gets headaches regularly. Headaches bad enough that he's not overly worried about dry heaving over the side of his own bed in the early hours of the morning.

Or that Julieta's food doesn't always help with the man's headaches. Because Augustín has never known Julieta's food no to be able to help someone.

He doesn't know when he sat down at the table with his cup of coffee. He doesn't remember drinking any of it, but at some point he looks up from the table to see Julieta staring around the room in horror, her eyes flicking around the room, taking dried blood on the table, dried blood on the floor, and dried blood in the sink.

She looks him over for injury before her eyes finally meet his, and somehow she knows that he wasn't the one injured. Now she's waiting for an explanation.

"I, uh, ran into your brother in town," he says, because he can't lie to her, and he can't sit there and say nothing. But he also can't tell her any more than that, because he can't forget how quickly Bruno responded each time he offered to get the man's family, and he can't forget the fear in the man's eyes as his head whipped around to meet his gaze.


Disclaimer: Disney's Encanto does not belong to me.