Author's Note. I decided to make the triplets 44 (& therefore 44 yrs had passed since Pedro's death) and Abuela 68, when the Casita falls apart. That way Pepa & Julieta had their first children 23, instead of 29, and Pepa is only 39 when she has Antonio instead of 45. It just seems more reasonable.
It doesn't really impact the story but I thought I'd say it here so you all know it's intentional and not a mistake on my part.
Also, fair warning, I'm a Brit & I don't speak Spanish. Everything here is courtesy of google translate. It should still be completely understandable to the average English speaker, but if any Spanish speakers want to correct me in the comments, feel free.
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He hadn't wanted to. He never did. But there had been no way to weasel his way out of it. Not after his Madre had demanded it of him. Not after seeing the look on his poor sobrina's face. Not with his Hermanas desperately looking to him for answers. Answers he had pretty much known he wouldn't, couldn't find, even before he had tried. It wasn't how his gift worked. He couldn't just throw a question out into the universe and have it answered. God didn't speak to him anymore than he did anyone else. He could only catch glimpses of the future and it was up to him to determine what they meant.
This glimpse, this prediction, this vision of the future immortalized in emerald glass, held no answers. He could already hear what his Madre would say if she saw it. We had to protect the Encanto, the miracle. It was their duty as Madrigals. To serve their community. To protect the people. To honour their Padre's sacrifice. He had always tried to do just that, but it had never gone as he planned. He was Bad-Luck Bruno; everything he touched fell to pieces. Including the Casita.
This would be the final nail in the coffin, the thimble of water that burst the dam, the final straw that broke the camel's back. There was no way he could come back from this. But, Dios mío, Mirabel! What would this mean for Mirabel? There had already been whispers at the Party. He hadn't needed to hear them directly to imagine what they were already saying about his sobrina perfecta más pequeña. It would only get worse if he allowed anyone, even his familia, to see the image of a grown Mirabel standing in front of a cracked and broken Casita. It wouldn't matter that it wasn't at all definite that his sobrina was the cause of the damage. It would only bring trouble. For her, for him, for the Familia.
But they would all be demanding answers in the morning. Madre would ask to see the tablet. And there would be no way around it. No way to put her off, not for long, not with the questions about the continuance of the Miracle hanging in the balance. Everyone would be clamouring for him to use his gift, even more than usual.
He would have to do it, wouldn't he? The idea that had been hovering at the edges of his mind for years now. The thought that crept back every time someone accused him of cursing them, no matter how many times he pushed it away. The silly and painful plan that he never thought he would actually go though with. He had to leave.
Bruno choked back a sob as he forced his fingers to release the grip he had on the glass tablet. He watched as it fell, as it hit the small rock that sat at the centre of his vision cave, as it shattered into pieces. The magic that seemed to light it up from within dimmed. Sand that was still swirling on the last of the persistent winds caused by his gift began to bury the shards.
He was decided. This was the best thing he could do for his familia. It was best thing for Mirabel. He couldn't let anyone know what he saw. This was the way he would protect them all. By removing himself, and all the whispers and rumours that went with him, from the Encanto. He shoved a few things in a bag as he tried to plan which way he would go to look for somewhere he might pass the mountains. South east probably. It was the lowest point on the horizon, after all. It looked, admittedly from a distance, like two of the mountains overlapped there, so maybe, after probably a bit of a climb, he might find a way out in that direction.
He knocked on the doorframe as he turned to give his room one last quick look-over, ignoring how Maria and Andres were scampering around his feet, probably anxious about his own rapid movement around the room. It was unlikely that anyone would actually bother to climb all the stairs to search the place. Not with how much easier it would be for Dolores to check from the cavern below that he wasn't up here. That didn't mean he wanted to leave anything here he didn't want his familia to see. He checked his bag for a third time to make sure he had picked up the journal full of drawings he hoped to take to his grave. Once he was sure it was there, he began making his way down the exceedingly long spiral staircase that had been steadily growing since his late teens.
After almost twenty minutes, he emerged from his rooms and stepped on to the small platform that sat between his door and the stairs descending from his tower. Once upon a time, there had been no tower at all and his room had opened up to the same landing as his siblings. That had changed about a year and a half after Pepa and Felix's wedding and maybe four months after Julieta and Agustin's. One morning he had opened the door to find his room had moved and a nursery now stood between Pepa and Julieta's doors where his room had once been, the Casita having shuffled him to one side and installed the short staircase leading from the landing to his at-the-time new, tower.
He had to fight the urge to compulsively knock at the door frames he passed as he made his way to the kitchen, not matter how it tied his stomach in knots. He couldn't draw attention to himself, not now. It might be the dead of night but he knew that didn't mean that no one could catch him. The Casita had too many people in it to be sure of that. He was just lucky he had a lot of practise at sneaking around. And the Casita's help, since his footsteps usually weren't quite as soft sounding and he was sure one of the chairs moved on it's own so he didn't stub his toe as he stuffed as much food as he could into his bag. Not too much though. He hoped his disappearance wouldn't be noticed for at least a few hours after everyone woke up. If too much food disappeared with him, his Hermanas were bound to get suspicious too quickly for him to get very far.
With that done, he left silently, the Casita waving it's wooden stutters at him when he looked back one final time. He would not cry. He wouldn't. He was doing the right thing. Everything would be better once he was gone. Everyone would be happier.
Oh. Maybe not everyone.
Bruno had one... Friend. One person that didn't think of him as trouble or bad-luck or a curse. One person, in all the village, that might miss him other than his familia. Florencia Velasco Fernández had seen one of the village teens throw a rock at him, a little over a year ago, bloodying his temple and knocking him on his arse. And instead of pretending she hadn't noticed, like everyone else who saw had, Florencia had knelt next to him and pressed her handkerchief to his head. It had been the nicest thing anyone had done for him in ages.
She was like that, impossibly kind. No one else, apart from his Hermanas, would have approached him as she had. Without worry or fear or loathing. She'd heard what people said about him and hadn't cared. Not enough to stay away when he was so obviously injured. She'd even walked with him back to the village square, where they had found Julieta and a healing snack. On their way there, he had managed to have a pleasant conversation with her. It had been... Nice.
He'd trekked to the outskirts of town to return her newly washed handkerchief the next Sunday, after church. Florencia had invited him in and, under the careful watch of her padre and hermanos mayores, they had another enjoyable conversation. Then another and another and before he had known it, they were friends. He'd even thought about courting her, but her Padre's stink eye and his Madre's disappointed sighs had made his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth whenever he began to gather the courage to ask for permission. Not only was he too old for her, being eleven years her senior, but he was still Bad-Luck Bruno after all; no one wanted their daughter to marry him. Florencia wouldn't want to marry him. Not when she could do so much better than him.
He'd been unwilling to let go of their friendship though. It was a little bit selfish of him, because he knew their association hurt her reputation somewhat. But he hadn't been able to stay away. It was, at least, better than going against their parents obvious wishes and courting her anyway. It was the right thing to do; to never, ever, ever bring up how he felt about her or how beautiful he thought she was, inside and out. Bruno always just wanted to do the right thing.
And the right thing just then was surely not to do as he was doing, making his way towards the Velasco's farmstead. He should be sticking with the plan to tell no one. To just slip away into the darkness of the night. Not darting between trees as he approached the property. Definitely not searching for and picking up pebbles, launching them at the shutters of Florencia's bedroom window. If anyone saw him, saw them, it would not look good.
They slowly swung open and Florencia hesitantly stuck her head out the window, a lit candle in her hand, her hair unbound and wild. Once he was sure she was alone, he quickly stepped out from behind the tree he was hiding behind and waved at her. He knocked his knuckles against the tree as he waited, hoping neither her hermanos nor her padre would wake and halt her path to him.
The back door opened almost silently and Bruno turned towards the noise, peeking out from his hiding place. Florencia was still alone as she made her way over to him. She was also only dressed in her white nightgown, with a dark, forest green and deep purple check shawl pulled around her shoulders and nothing on her feet. ¡Dios! If anyone saw them...
"Bruno," She whispered as she reached him, the candlelight highlighting the red of her hair. "What's wrong? What are you doing out here?"
"I, I've- Something's happened. I have to leave the Encanto." He stuttered out, wishing he had more time.
"What! Why?"
"It's- I've had a vision. It doesn't matter. Don't ask what it was. I just, I just had to see you before I go."
Maybe he shouldn't have said that. It was too close to the truth. He shouldn't be here. He had to leave. He shuffled back, his eyes darting to her house to check for any unwanted movement. But Florencia followed him, stepping into his space, one hand holding her shawl together and the other lifting the candle between them. Her eyes were wide, imploring him to stay, to explain...
"Then I'm coming with you." She stated determination taking over her face.
...To let her accompany him! That was a terrible idea. He wasn't exactly confident in his ability to take care of himself out there, in the wild. He couldn't risk her too.
"Dios mío, please don't!" He begged her, his hand finding her elbow as he struggled to keep his voice low enough so as not to wake up her familia. "Stay here. You know it's dangerous out there. You, Your familia will- I don't- Por favor, Florencia. Stay here."
Oh, her eyes were watering. He was making her cry. Mierda. He shouldn't've come here. He was an idiot. Selfish. He'd known he should have left her alone. Never should have returned when she hesitantly invited him to tea. Should've made up an excuse and avoided her like he did everyone else. Definitely shouldn't've come here in the dead of night. He shouldn't be standing his close to her, especially not when they were alone and she was barely dressed.
"Mi Padre wants me to marry Señor Montoya's oldest son."
It was like a knife to the chest. His breath was literally sucked from him and he couldn't help as a closed his eyes pain. He had known it was gong to happen eventually. He hadn't seen it, it was just an inevitability. Cisco Montoya was a fine young man, tall, much closer to her age than he was and he stood to inherit his Padre's farm one day. It was a fine match.
"Good." He forced himself to say. "Stay. D,d,do that."
He took another step away, pulling the hand he had touched her with into his chest. He had to go. He shouldn't have come, but he had and he'd told her he was leaving, just as he wanted. He had to go. But she wasn't letting him. She released her shawl to grasp ahold of his ruana, making him stop short and leaving it to fall from her shoulders.
"Por favor, Bruno. If you have to leave, let me come with you." She implored.
Part of him wanted to say yes. To say that he would wait her for her to change and collect somethings. To not have to face whatever happened next on his own. He'd never been alone before. Not truly. There had always been Julieta and Pepa to turn to, even after they married and begun having children. But he couldn't. He couldn't risk her. If it was at all possible to get out of the Encanto it was going to be hard. The mountains were high, even at their lowest.
"No." He said, trying to sound firm. "Marry Cisco. Have a bunch of beautiful children. Stay here, where it's safe."
The tears that had been clinging to her long eyelashes fell. His own nose had bloomed with pins and needles, a sure sign he was about to follow. He shouldn't have come. This was too painful.
"I don't want to marry Cisco." She insisted, her voice catching in her throat. "Bruno, I love you."
Oh, could things get worse?
"I love you too, Florencia." He confessed. "Bu, But it doesn't matter. I've got to go and you have to stay. Please."
They were both crying then. He held on to the hand she had gripping his ruana, knowing he should try to get her to release her hold but finding he couldn't. Then she was stepping even closer, holding the candle out and away from their bodies. She crowded into him, rising up on her tip-toes to press a kiss to his lips. He gasped in surprise at her forwardness but was soon returning the pressure, moving against her. Her cheek was damp when he cupped it in his palm, wiping away her tears with his thumb.
He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be doing this. He'd resisted so many times before, whenever she'd laughed at one of his jokes or given him a compliment. Why was this the time he couldn't find the strength?
"I'm going to miss you." She rasped against his lips, before leaning back in for more.
His hands found her waist and the curve of her back, as one of hers let go of his ruana and made its way up into his hair. She dropped her candle and he was only vaguely aware that it spluttered out against the damp grass. Then she was suddenly falling, no sitting on the ground, and dragging him with her. Over her.
"We shouldn't." He panted, hovering over her, his knees planted between her newly revealed and completely bare thighs, his arms holding him up on either side of her head.
"I want to."
Dios, he wanted to aswell. Had for ages, since almost as soon as he met her. He shouldn't. They shouldn't. But, he found he couldn't resist her pouty lips, nor her hands in his hair, nor her thighs surrounding, rubbing against his own. Mierda. He didn't want to stop. He wanted to just keep kissing her and forget everything else. There was no prophecy, no worried over miracles, no disappointed Madres or disapproving Padres. Only them. Only her. Only her lips on his. Only the sounds of their breath mingling and the occasional stifled moan.
She grasped one of his hands to move it, rucking up her nightgown, allowing him to touch her there. She was wet. Slick with her wanting for him. Joder. He suddenly didn't feel like reading the raunchy El caluroso fin de semana de Armando had prepared him for an actual live woman. He shouldn't be doing this. Shouldn't be loosing his virginity, or taking Florencia's, in the back garden of the Velasco's farm. He was un canalla.
"Here." She whimpered, guiding his fingers with her own, moaning as he brushed against her clit.
Then she was pushing his ruana and bag aside, grappling with the fastening of his loose-fitting trousers. The next moment, he was in her hand and he couldn't help thrusting into her palm, relishing the sensation of another person touching him there.
"Florencia." He groaned, kissing her neck, tasting her skin.
"I want you, Bruno." She sighed, hooking her leg around his own, encouraging to shift closer. "I want you inside me."
He kissed her again, rubbing the head of his cock against her, hoping to find her entrance without looking like a fool. When he found it, he hesitated for all of a moment before she was pushing up against him and he began to sink into her. She hissed as he did, freezing him in place.
"Am I hurting you?" He asked, tense and worried.
"Keep going." She panted, pulling him closer still.
He did as she bayed but he could tell he was hurting her. All he could do was go slow and plant tender kisses to her face until he was seated fully within her. He waited then, forcing himself not to concentrate of the feel of her surrounding him, but on her face, her body, watching as she eventually relaxed into him. She began moving against him, tiny shifts of her hips that soon grew until he couldn't help but join her.
"Mi cielo." He muttered against her lips, working a hand between them to circle her clit as her thrust into her.
And she was heavenly. Every part of her. He wished he could stay. He wished he wasn't Bad-Luck Bruno and that he could actually have her as his wife. Wished he could do this again, even if they had yet to finish. He loved her smile and her laugh and the way she said his name. He loved her pale, but sun-kissed skin and her curly reddish hair and her deep hazel eyes. He loved her. He loved her and he hated that he was leaving and that he'd never had the courage to do this before. Hated he had never eloped with her, buying off the Padre with a few bottles of wine.
Dios, she was perfect. Beautiful and clever and kind and, Oh! She was coming. Clamping down around him as her back arched, an uncontrollable and loud wail falling from her lips. He did his best to smother it, pressing his lips against her mouth, but it was too much. Suddenly he was coming too.
"Bruno, mi vida." She gasped breathlessly into his ear as she held his head against her breast, where he had collapsed completely exhausted.
"Hmmm," He managed to answer, shifting so as to gently pull out of her. "Mi amor, are you okay? Did I hurt you?"
He had heard it could hurt for women, on their wedding night, but he couldn't stop the guilt curled in the bottom of his gut. The feeling worsened as she flinched when she moved to straighten her now grass-stained nightgown.
"No," She lied, clasping his head between her hands. "You were perfecto, Bruno."
She kissed him again, slow and sweet. He wished he could stay there forever, living in the comfortable silence that sat between them as she ran her fingers through his hair. But the chill of the night rustled through the leaves of the trees and Florencia shivered, goosebumps suddenly covering her bare arms. And with it came reality, like a heavy, icy hand reaching into his chest and squeezing at his heart.
"You must go back inside." He said in hushed tones, rubbing his hands up and down her arms hoping to warm her up and take the sting away of his words.
Tears began to fill her eyes once more but she nodded in acquiescence, pulling him in for one last kiss before they both made a move to stand, righting their clothes as they went.
"Lo siento mucho, Mi Corazon." He muttered as he brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. "I wish I could stay."
"Will you ever come back?"
"I don't know." He gave the only answer he could. "Don't wait for me. If not Cisco Montoya then someone. I want you to be happy."
He watched as she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath before turning from him. She picked up her dropped shawl on the way but she didn't turn back. He didn't know if he wished she had. He did know that he shouldn't have come. He should have just disappeared wordlessly from her life. He shouldn't have come and taken what he did, with nothing to offer in return. Not even a promise.
She shut the door behind her and he knocked against the tree again, peering up at her window, hoping for one last glimpse, failing to force himself to walk away. He should go. He should leave. He had lost a lot of time as it was. How long did he have until the sun rose and with it his familia? How long did he have before they noticed his absence? How long before they searched the Casita and the village and realised he wasn't there. Would they send out a search party to find him?
He finally pulled himself away with one last knock, knock, knock against the tree, for luck. He had to go. He couldn't allow himself to be caught. Couldn't allow anyone to force him into sharing his latest vision of the future. Couldn't allow his fate as the Madrigal Black Sheep to become Mirabel's as well.
No matter how much it hurt.
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He didn't make it out of the Encanto. He'd tried. Tried for ages. Almost two whole months. But he'd run out of food quickly, no matter how he rationed, and finding it in the wild was harder than he had thought it would be. As March turned to April and then to May, the weather turned cloudier and wetter and he knew if he kept trying to climb the mountain, he would get ill and probably die.
He couldn't get out and he couldn't go back. There was quite literally no place for him and nowhere to go.
What was he supposed to do? He wasn't cut out for this. He was hopeless. And lonely. So lonely, lonelier than he'd ever been. He missed his hermanas and cuñados. He missed little Camillo and his sobrinas. He missed his Madre. The Casita had been filled with their chatter and now there was nothing but the rustle of leaves and the rushing of the river he tended to hang around. He missed the sound of their voices in the background, even if they weren't talking to him. He missed the smell of Julieta's cooking wafting on the air. He even missed the often damp and unpredictable mini-storms that followed Pepa around when she was stressed.
He missed Florencia.
Bruno found himself thinking a lot about her in the weeks he spent alone at the edge of the Encanto, desperately trying to find a way out. He thought alot about the night he left. He shouldn't have done what he did. He should have said no to her. Should have pulled away from her kiss and worked to gently untangle her hand from his ruana. He shouldn't have given in to his own base wants. He should have been stronger.
But he wasn't. He was weak. So weak he had already begun to entertain the idea of going back. Of facing his familia. But he knew what would happen if he did. Had known it the second he saw the prophecy. There was a reason he had left in the first place, a reason bigger than himself and he couldn't turn back now. He wanted to, but he couldn't. No matter how he missed them. No matter how much he yearned to hear their voices.
He would just check on them. He was planning on heading sort-of in that direction anyway. It wouldn't be too difficult to pass through unseen, if he went at night. Delores was in bed and asleep in her sound-proof room by eight, so he wouldn't get caught that way. He would just make sure everything was as fine as could be. That the casita wasn't, hadn't, begun to fall apart already, like it had in his nightmares the past few days. It surely wouldn't be too hard to creep up and peer through one of the windows. Just to check everything was fine. Was as it should be.
He arrived at the back of the Casita at what he guessed to be nine-ish. After ten minutes of humming and haring as he gathered his courage, he approached the magical building and crouched outside. He could hear voices but he wasn't close enough to tell what they were saying or even who it was. They were probably in the living room. If only he could get closer, without being seen.
The open shutter of the window he was ducked under waved at him, clearly trying to get his attention. Then the tiles that decorated the wall shifted, quietly clattering at him, directing him around the side of the house. Trusting the Casita and with little else to do, he carefully followed the animated path he was led on. He reached an opening that had definitely not been there before he left. Crossing his fingers for lack of any visible wood to knock on, he crawled on his elbows and knees into the hole the Casita had assumedly created for him. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust from the orange lamp light of outside to the almost complete pitch black of the inside and, Oh! He was inside the walls of the Casita. He hadn't known this was here.
Being doubly careful not to make any noise, he crept through the passageway leading him further into the Casita, closer to the conversation he could hear from outside. It was his Hermanas and Cuñados, with no sign of his Madre. That was good. He didn't particularly want to hear about how disappointed she was in him for running away. Pressing his ear to the wall he concentrated on their slightly muffled voices.
"I'm so glad it all went well." He heard Pepa gush, obviously happy about something.
"Alicia was pleased to spend time with her primas. They don't see near enough of each other." Agustin remarked, talking about his Sobrina, who, if Bruno was remembering right (and had an accurate reckoning of the date), had just had a birthday.
It was a nice thought. That Isabela, Luísa and Mirabel had attended their cousin's birthday, away from the Casita, surrounded by other, normal children. He imagined there was cake and party games and all sorts of fun things that had nothing to do with (or a distinct lack of) powers. Little Isa probably still showed off her flowers and Luisa was probably still asked to move something heavy, if only for the amusement of the party-goers, but he hopes they had a nice, worry-free time.
"It certainly cheered Mirabel up." Julieta added. "She's been so down since... Well, you know."
There was the faint sound of shuffling and he imaged Agustin had moved closer to his esposa, maybe wrapping an arm around her shoulders. A silence hovered for a moment, tense and uncomfortable as it stretched. Someone sighed, but he couldn't tell who.
"Maybe I should talk to some people, have another look for Brun-" That was Felix, causing his to stomach drop at the thought that they might still looking for him.
"¡No!" Pepa interrupted her esposo, a crack of thunder echoing her statement. "I can't! Not any more! Not about that, that, that..."
The storm sounds quickly got quieter but the fading footsteps told him it was because Pepa had left, not because she had calmed down any. She was really angry at him, really angry. He shouldn't have been surprised. Pepa had always been quicker to anger and slower to understand when compared to Julieta. And she'd never quite forgiven him for the hurricane he had 'caused' on her wedding day. Nor for telling her she wasn't going to marry Ramiro Diaz after their second date, even though she had asked. Nor for telling her ten-year old crush that she liked him, resulting in her nearly flooding the school-room. Hermanas, what could you do? They remembered everything.
She would calm down. Eventually. He was sure of it. Although that didn't exactly make him feel better now, especially since he couldn't go in there and apologize for leaving. At least she had Felix now. He had always been better at calming Pepa down than he had. Than anyone had, even their Madre.
He heard Julieta and Agustin continue murmuring to each other but he couldn't pick up on what they were saying. He wasn't sure he wanted to either. They thought they were alone now, after all. Who knew what his Hermana and Cuñado said to each other when no one was around?
He turned his back to the wall, leaning against it, sighing. He was tired and dirty and hungry and he just wished he could walk through the wall and be home again. He couldn't, he couldn't, he couldn't. But he wanted to. He missed his familia. He missed them so much his chest hurt. Dios, it was hard. But he remembered why he was doing it. Why he had made the decision to leave to begin with. He wasn't going to limp back with his tail between his legs and fail Mirabel like that.
He would stay here for an hour or two, until everyone had gone to bed. He'd ask the Casita to help him get a little food and he'd be on his way again. The wet weather had almost cleared up, give it a week or two and he'd have until October before it got like that again. Plenty of time to find a way over the mountains. The Casita did help him get some food and possibly directed his rats his way, since Maria, Andres and Eduardo found him and began to scamper all over him, obviously having missed him. But it didn't, wouldn't let him back out the way he came in. Instead, it shuffled him along until he found a tiny space, only slightly wider than the corridors he had been transversing, housing an old red chair that was vaguely familiar and a hammock he was sure used to hang in the veranda, as well as a small assortment of other old but not broken furniture. Oh, well... Maybe he could rest up here a day or two to properly rest before he journeyed out again. He was unlikely to find other such welcoming accommodations anytime soon. He might as well take advantage. But only for a day or so.
But then a few days turned into a week, which turned into two, which turned into three. Then he was only going to stay for Agustin's birthday. His elder Sobinas had been talking about it, chatting eagerly about dresses and decoration and how they were each helping in their own small ways to preparations. Delores was a bit reticent, probably due to the expected noise, but seemed happy enough when he caught her talking to Isabela. Then, probably just to give him a heart attack, once her prima had left, Delores had asked for his thoughts on what Agustin would like. Until that point, he had been hoping that the Casita had been hiding him from her sensitive ears, since it didn't seem like she had said anything to anyone. But no, unfortunately not.
That had led to one of the most nerve-wrenching conversation of his life, as scenario after scenario played behind his eyes of his discovery. Of him being forced to repeat the vision he had had on Mirabel's fifth birthday. Of seeing his Madre's disappointment and worry and blame. Of the hot shame he would feel when Florencia found out where he had been hiding.
"You can't tell anyone I'm here, Delores. Por favor, I'm begging you." He pleaded, pressing his forehead against the wall so hard it was beginning to hurt.
"But they've been looking for you, Tio." She murmured back to him, barely loud enough for him to hear.
"It doesn't matter. You, you, you remember that time I told you your future?" He asked, hating how she squeaked, flinching back from the wall, from him. "You didn't like it did you?"
"It's sad, Tio Bruno." She eventually answered, even quieter than she had before.
"Exactly." His heart was racing, hoping beyond hope that he would be able to convince her. "Sometimes my visions are sad, and sometimes they're scary, or, or, or hard to understand. And people get mad about the things I see. It's- They... It's hard to explain but it's really important no one knows I'm here."
They went back and forth for two days but in the end, Delores had agreed to keep his secret, seeming to understand the gravity of the situation, without him having to actually tell her anything important. She'd managed to keep her mouth shut so far (partially due to the fact that, at first, she had thought him to be a large, talking rat hiding in the walls, something her parents had quickly assured her wasn't a thing and had put down to her childish imagination mingling with her extraordinary gift), so he would just have to have faith in her.
She had begged him to stay though. She understood he couldn't come out of the wall, couldn't be found out by the familia, but didn't understand why her Tio couldn't just carry on living where he had been since he got back. And really, he didn't either. It was warm, dry and close to a kitchen so full of food no one noticed if some of it went periodically missing. And he could still see them. Still hear them. It wasn't the same, no where near, but it was something. Better than nothing.
It wasn't even that hard to slip out the side of the house and out into the forest not far from the Casita, when he needed the fresh air. He did so at night, to minimize his chances of getting caught. The rats were good company and he occasionally had Delores to whisper to him though the walls. It was fine. Good, even. Now, he mostly just missed Florencia. Missed talking to her and walking in the village with her. Missed her laugh and her smile and her kind interest in his wittering about story ideas.
If he hadn't left it as he had with her, maybe he would have snuck into the village again. He could have trusted her to keep his secret. He would have gone to her window again and spent an hour or two in her company as the world slept, talking as they used to. But he had succumbed to his wants and had shared with her what he really shouldn't have. He'd taken her and then left her, told her to marry another. And what if she had? What if she was betrothed or even married to Cisco Montoya, like her Padre wanted her to. He didn't want to confuse things more than they already were. He had left and he had to keep it that way. He had to have the strength he had lacked the night he made love to her.
Isabela's twelfth birthday came and went, followed shortly by Delores's, then his Madre's. He watched his sisters blow out candles on a shared cake from a crack in the kitchen wall, right where he knew a picture of the Madrigal Family tree was painted. He pretended, in that moment, that he was standing with them, blowing out the candles together, celebrating their birthday at their side, just as he always had. Then Luisa turned ten and Felix turned forty-one to much fanfare. He was awaiting his first Christmas in the wall, shortly followed by Camilo's birthday on the twenty-eighth, when he heard Florencia's name spoke aloud from someone other than himself for the first time since he had moved into the walls.
Quick to sit up from his light doze, his ears pricked, Bruno listened as he tried to understand the context of the conversation he had come into half-way.
"Any ideas?" He heard Pepa ask, her tone teasing, as he got close enough to catch every word.
"None, Mi Vida." Was Felix's rely. "What about you, Julieta, you've delivered food over to her little place a few times. Ever seen anyone hanging around?"
His Hermana was cooking like usual, and as he pressed his face to the crack so he could see properly, he noted Pepa and Felix were at the table, cutting out something or another, as they spoke with her. Agustin and his Madre were no where in sight but he could hear his sobinas and little Camillo playing in the garden.
"No, I haven't seen anyone." Julieta said, cutting away at some vegetables and giving him a perfect view of the guilty face she was pulling. "And I don't think we should be speculating. The poor girl has enough people talking behind her back as it is."
Confusion rose at his hemana's comment. He was sure he had heard Pepa say something about the Velasco girl, and Florencia had no sisters nor any female cousins that shared her name. But people had no reason to speak ill of Florencia. Did they?
"Well, people aren't going to stop any time soon. It's too big of a scandal. Not that I don't feel sorry for her." Pepa reasoned, as a cloud began to form over her head. "I wish there was more we could do to help. But you can't help but wonder."
"Everyone is, Mi Cielo. That's part of the problem. Practically every women in town is worried their brother, son or husband is the Padre of that little boy. If she continues to say nothing, then everyone will continue to wonder."
No.
"Do you know what she named him?" Pepa's voice sounded as if it were far away, at the end of tunnel.
"I did ask, but Señorita Velasco said nothing was definite yet. We'll probably have to wait for the baptism in a few weeks."
Oh no. The maths was right, wasn't it? Everything lined up. Oh Dios mio. What was he-? Should he-?
No, no, no. He was getting ahead of himself. He didn't know anything yet. Not for sure. He had to calm down. He sunk into his armchair and forced himself to suck in some slow, deep breaths. He knew what it had sounded like but he couldn't be making assumptions. He had to find a way to make sure what he thought was happening was actually happening. He had to talk to Delores. Making his way through the narrow corridors, knocking on the bamboo as he went, he got as close as he could to where he knew the children to be.
"Delores." He called her with a whisper. "I need to talk to you."
She was quick to make her excuses, probably hearing the panic in his voice, and found a place they could speak without drawing attention.
"What is it, Tio?"
"Do you- Erm, have you heard anything about Florencia Velasco lately?" He stumble over his words, his mind still racing at a thousand miles an hour.
His Sobina squeaked. "Oh. People have been saying a lot of things I'm not allowed to repeat."
He sighed. He'd always known he was going to hurt her reputation, hadn't he? Why didn't he stay away? Why could he never do anything right?
"Why?" He asked, already knowing the answer but having to hear it anyway.
"She had a bebé a few days ago, but she hasn't got a husband." She paused as he compulsively knocked at the bamboo and once against his head. "She won't tell anyone who the Padre is. But, well, you two were friends, weren't you, Tio Bruno?"
Meirda. He was un canalla, un bastardo, un desperdicio de espacio egoísta e inútil... How could he have done this to her? How could he-
"Tio? Tio Bruno." The note of unease in Delores's quiet but insistent voice cut through his recriminations.
"Lo siento, nena." He apologised, vaguely aware he had been mumbling aloud to himself. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm okay, don't worry. Everything's fine."
Everything was not fine. His mind already beginning to plan how he might go about an excursion down to the Velasco farm. He had to see her. Had to see the bebe and ask her if he had... If he was... Dios, what a mess. What was he going to do? What could he possibly say to her to make this ever a little bit better.
"Thank you for telling me Delores." He continued, his attention back on his sobina. "You're right, she is my friend. The only one I've had in a good long while."
"Then you probably want to know that her Padre kicked her out when Florencia told him she couldn't marry Cisco Montoya because she was with child, and now none of her Familia will talk to her." She whispered back to him in her usual rapid-fire way. "Señor Flores had to ask the village to help build her her own small house, right on the edge of town."
Oh, it could get worse. Everything he touched just turned to dust, no matter what he did. He hadn't thought Señor Velasco would have gone that far. He was obviously a devout catholic, everyone was, but he had thought he would support his daughter through anything, even this. Did he not care for his innocent grandson, at the very least. Dios. If only he had been allowed to marry her months and months ago, she wouldn't be in this position. Or maybe it would have been even worse? No one knew the boy were his child, the son of Bad-Luck Bruno. That was a good thing, wasn't it? A faint silver lining surrounding this tormenta de mierda. Maybe being seen as a puta, as loose, was better than people seeing her as Bruno Madrigal's esposa. People would eventually move on to talk about something else. She was still only twenty-three, no twenty-four, he had missed her birthday, and she still might find someone to marry her. A widower perhaps.
He still had to go there though. He had to see her, maybe for the last time. Had to see Florencia and do whatever he could for her. He had to hear it from her own lips that she wanted nothing to do with him. That she didn't want him anywhere near her son.
"Gracias."
The hours until nightfall seemed to stretch as he waited for them to pass. He tried to distract himself with his stories and sketches and listening to his familia as they chatted about their day, but nothing could hold his interest for long. All he could think about was finding Florencia house and all he might find there. She would be angry at him, obviously. Maybe she would yell and curse at him. Maybe she would slap him across the face or punch him in the chest. Maybe she wouldn't let him in at all, slamming the door in his face. Or worse, maybe she wouldn't be angry; she'd be upset. Maybe she'd cry. Dios, he hoped she didn't. He'd never done well with tears.
And the child would be there. His son. Maybe. Probably. His son, who was only a few days old. It was hard to wrap his mind around it. He'd never thought he would become a Padre himself, not for a few years at least. He'd been more hopeful in his teens and early twenties, before every date he'd ever been on was an awkward disaster and his reputation had gone down the drain. He'd accepted within himself that he would be a great Tio and that that was enough. That he didn't yearn for a little family unit all of his own. It was just his luck that he would get everything he wanted and it still end up broken. Like everything else he'd ever touched.
Eventually, night fell and everyone in the Casita retired to their rooms for the night. He gave it another hour, just to be sure, before making his way out of the Casita's inner corridors and into the alleyways and shadows of the village below. With his only direction being 'the edge of the village' he ended up skirting its perimeter looking for a small building that hadn't been there the last time he had slipped out into the night to see her. Once he had found one that fit the description, he hesitated, doubting himself. What if this wasn't the one? What if someone else had moved out of home in the time he had been away. It had been awhile after all and he didn't always manage to keep up with the happenings of the village just by listening to his familia talk. Case in point, he hadn't heard even a whisper about Florencia's pregnancy before that afternoon. He had noted her absence at the parties that had been held at the Casita, but he had come up with at least ten different explanations for not seeing her.
In the end, he settled for throwing pebbles at the shutters once more and ducking into the shadow her neighbours house through across the street, just in case he did have the wrong house. It took three attempts before he saw movement and was almost caught as he threw himself out of sight. Peeking back at whoever had opened the window to look out into the night, his breath arrested in his chest. Florencia.
She looked no different than she had the last time he had seen her, her hair was still falling in long copper curls around her shoulders and she had the same green and purple shawl wrapped around her shoulders as she leant out, looking for him. Dios, he had missed her. She was perfecta and going to be so very incandescently angry with him. She had every right to be. He forced himself to step out of the shadow, pulling down the hood of his ruana as he did so. Her whole body froze as she saw him and , for a split second, he thought she might start yelling at him right then, alerted the whole village to his presence. Instead, she waved at him, motioning him closer and pointing him towards her front door.
He let out a stuttering sigh at her willingness to at least see him. Pulling his hood up again and giving the streets another once over, he made his way to her door. It was already opening when he got there. Her hand reached out, grabbing his arm and pulling him inside. She shut the door behind him so fast he was almost left the edge of his ruana out there. Then, before he could adjust to what was happening, arms were wrapping around his waist, squeezing him and his face was full of auburn hair.
"Bruno."