Casita never stilled, not even in the middle of the night. When the outside world quietened down, other sounds became more prominent. Tiles clicking, shutters flapping, wind blowing, shoes clattering.

Actually, this last one was quite unusual. It wasn't coming from the house itself. Instead, the noise was made by a shadowy figure that moved through the house without being seen. The man was not a burglar; Casita had her ways to deal with those. It was someone she knew perfectly well but had not expected to see again in quite some time.

"Casita, a little help in here?" he whispered through gritted teeth after he collapsed to the floor.

The house listened, offering her metaphorical hand by transporting him to the kitchen and turning on a dim light.

"Gracias," the man said with a loud hiss. His face contorted in pain.

Bruno sat on the floor, next to the stove. He did not look good. His hair was disheveled, his face unshaved, his clothes ripped and dirty, and his body covered in mud. His ankle was badly swollen, and there were traces of clotted blood on his knees. In his right hand, he held a walking stick, and he was squeezing it so tightly that his knuckles whitened. There was also a small travelling bag slung over his shoulder. He felt hopeless and miserable.

Ever since his argument with Abuela, he was scared to come back home. After he refused to reveal the contents of his last vision, Bruno predicted various probable scenarios of the aftermath. However, he never envisioned this. His mother yelling at him and calling him names. His own family turning his back on him. Him running away in desperation. After all that had happened, the last thing he wanted was to face them.

But he had nowhere else to go.

Staying in town was not an option. The people there either hated or feared him, none of which was conducive to finding himself a temporary place to stay. His best bet was leaving the Encanto altogether. The mountains around were pretty tall, and he had no hiking equipment, but he tried nonetheless. This turned out to be another poor decision.

He didn't get far, not even halfway to the top, when he slipped and fell down. For a split second, the man thought he was a goner. One good thing in this unlucky turn of events was that he only broke his leg. Bruised, miserable, and exhausted, Bruno admitted defeat. He was forced to turn back. To once again face his mother and endure whatever hell would ensue.

This time, he would break, the man was sure of it. Be it days or weeks of constant nagging, he'd finally have enough and tell everyone exactly what he saw. The magic dying, their house breaking, and Mirabel standing high amidst the chaos. And then, he'd turn a life of his youngest niece into living hell. He would literally put her through the same horrific experiences he himself had to deal with his entire life. The thought of being in the same shit together was not comforting at all.

"I'm so sorry, Mirabel."

With a heavy heart, Bruno got up from the kitchen floor. He grabbed some cold dinner leftovers that his sister made and instantly felt a lot better. He breathed out in relief, the pain in his leg gone at last. Hurriedly, he took huge gulps of water and kept moving. The goal was to reach his room without being seen. His family could come there looking for him at any moment, but at least he would grab a few hours of sleep.

As quietly as he could, Bruno rushed to the second floor, careful with his every step. When he was passing by Dolores's room, a loud noise grabbed his attention. A still life painting was moving left and right, its dull rumbling echoing against the walls.

"No, Casita!" muttered Bruno in a state of panic. "Shhh! Stop it, please. Don't wake Mama, I just wanna – "

He went quiet as the bouncing picture sprung open like a door, revealing a man-sized hole he'd never seen before. Intrigued, the man looked inside.

"You wanna me to – to get in there?" he asked, pointing at the narrow passage.

The tiles clattered in affirmation.

Bruno gulped but obeyed. Just to be safe, he knocked on the wood before diving in. He traced the wall with his hand as he slowly moved forward, watching the floor under his feet. In all his uneasiness, he couldn't help but be amazed. He found it hard to believe that the house he grew up in still held so many secrets.

Finally, after walking for quite some time, he reached a door.

Huh.

He opened it and found a small room. Not too spacy but big enough to easily move around. Inside, there was Felix's old armchair, a dining room chair from the earlier set, a bookcase, some cracked shelves. Everything was covered in cobwebs and dust, and yet it looked cozier than his bedroom ever could.

"This is great," said Bruno, smiling to himself.

He could try staying here for a while, he realized. This could work. He would hide and wait. Only for a short time, until everything quietened down and everyone forgot.

"Ma, what about Bruno?"

"Don't talk to me about this man!"

"Don't speak his name."

"We don't talk about Bruno."

From behind the walls, he listened. Day by day, he listened, and he realized he had nothing to go back to.

So, Bruno stayed where he was, pretending that he did not exist. That everything was fine and not weird at all. That he was still a part of the family.

The family he still loved, even if they did not love him back.

One careless night trip almost destroyed his plans to stay away. Bruno went to the roof for midnight star-gazing, which was one of the only times when he could breathe in some fresh air. On his way back, he took the usual route. The man was leaning back through the painting hole when he heard a squeak.

It was Dolores. The Madrigal kid that could hear everything.

Bruno panicked. He was close to hyperventilating when he realized that the little girl wasn't doing anything dangerous, just looking back at him. She didn't seem scared or anything, maybe just a little curious.

Without a word, Bruno put a finger to his mouth, making a quiet shushing noise. He hoped she would understand.

And then, he disappeared.