That moment.
It only lasted mere minutes, but it was an eternity of shock — pure and joyous shock — that fluttered the young hearts, and freckled wonder onto the freckled faces of the first Gifted, the triplets: Julieta, Pepa — and Bruno. What? Why? How? They didn't need an answer; they were receiving a Gift, even if their frail minds didn't realise the magnitude of their action. Though, it was such a simple action that nobody would dare grave their minds on the miraculous outcome of three small, chubby hands grasping at the knobs of doors and shining a bright start that willed its light into the walls.
At the mere age of five, the three had been blessed with exceptionalism. That moment, something inside them was glowing. After that though, it dimmed. The taper was left to wink and waver in crying quietude. The days following were warm and welcoming and most certainly tiring. Alma attentively watched each one of her little gifts grow and glow; whine and shine; struggle and tussle.
All those years to learn to give.
And today had been 10-ish years later on the last day of school.
Bruno put sandal to glade as he stepped out the door, the early sun blighting his blue and gray face. "Bye, Mamá!", he dragged his feet across, as if his ankle were linked to a glass chain.
Pepa hopped up, legs together, but arms flying free, and kissed her mamá, before leaping out the door — the world tumbling down for the time she was airborne. Her index and middle finger brushed the ground, and, unable to stick the landing, she crashed flat. But, her time getting to know the floor plan barely lasted a second, because as quick as she met the rooted tiles, she got sprung back up onto steady feet because of them. Pepa could only wreak a face in-between embarrassment and gratitude and peep out a sheepish chuckle, "Thanks, Casita!". The tiles clicked at her, which she could only assume was a"No problem, Pepi!"or something along those lines.
Julieta watched her hermanita's dramatic fall from inside, still packing her last arepas into her basket. She huffed at her recklessness, "Pepa!", sliding her arm through the handle, she made headway out the door, but got interrupted by Alma, who squashed her cheeks, and dotted her lips onto her forehead.
"Ma—!"
Alma dusted her shoulders off, "Now, please make sure Pepa doesn't have you home drenched!"
Julieta couldn't help but sigh at that phrase. It was one her mamá had been exclaiming for millions and millions of years, and one that would only most likely jinx fate for the three as it had done so before.
"Sure, Ma! I'll put her in check!", she assured, reaching for Alma's hands and gently carrying them off herself, "Bye, Mamá! For real!", she drifted off and out the open door, waving back as she caught up with her siblings.
"Pepa, you're too reckless! One day, you going really hurt yourself and I won't be there to heal you! I mean that, Pepa. I always do!", the eldest sibling scolded.
"You say that as if you'll die before me! You're only 17 minutes older, remember?"
Julieta slipped out a sigh of annoyance, "Pepa, be serious for a minute. Don't be like everyone else and act negligent about your heath or participate in dangerous activities. Whether I'm able to heal you or not shouldn't matter."
She hastily handed her an arepa, which Pepa rejected in a heartbeat, "The fall barely scratched me."
Something in the wind struck the triplets' hair. It was something somber, it was something nostalgic and it was something welcome. Unlike everything else in Bruno's years leading here — this was welcoming. Bruno was sure none of his siblings could even grasp the importance of a simple walk to him — but that was just something neither three of them had ever had in a long time. Monday–Sunday, every morning, whether it be for school or something else, Bruno could rely on this walk as an honest reminder of simplicity; a time for just being them. Pepa was always clear-headed, super-duper springy and rocking a happy attitude; the eldest triplet would truly try to do her best not to sneer at every hurtful joke that travelled to Bruno's ears — and Bruno himself — always lost in a golden plague of intricacies. It was a walk without the worry or strife or exhaustion they got almost everyday due to their blessings; it was a walk without a word relating to 'gift'. It was simple: it meant a lot to him.
And honestly? At the end of it, was his true reminder that the world kept turning, and that he had a moment to breathe, whether it'd—!
No, not at all. He was wrong. He was willingly, morbidly, gravely wrong.
Bruno fell from the gouts of good thoughts that flooded his mind. He was sinkingandsinkingin theeternal;gaspingandgaspingfor dense, foul, greenish gruel; smog; poison. Why was this sight so cursed in its pangs? He hated it, but something inside screamed this horrid image as deathly. He was cursed with the need to see. His fatal end?His mind fervently flailed without remorse for the roaring, green and grave pain it was inflicting upon him. Upon the jade was a Bruno without pain; wingless. No, he was sure now; Bruno was dying.
And all he could do was pray.
The green light that had endowed his eyes, and just like all the previous times, including those that would come up, his head started hammering away at itself. "Julieta!", he screeched in a failed attempt to whisper her name so not to attract the good bystanders and students. As he let gravity anchor him into the burning grass, the winds picked up caution and rushed through everyone's hair.
Pepa blew up her cheeks into balloons, and let all the air splutter out, causing another surge of wind to attack the town. Her eyes were keen on four farm boys hanging out doing whatever nonsense they entertained themselves with. Pepa's resident farm boys, who she just had the pleasure of seeing everyday after school for her current job: watering crops. Julieta locked her arm with Pepa's and squeezed her hand, all with her eyes still set on her baby brother, "Pepita, steady!", she whispered, not wanting to have to condone with any primal practices for the day. Little jolts repetitively shot at her, scarring her arm red. Julieta looked up, shaving her teeth, at the now clouded sheet of bubbly blue; white fluff graying into a to-be flooded plane.
"Hey, it looks like rain!", Bruno muttered helplessly, trying to crack a smile to ease his aching head.
"Not a good time, Brunito!", his oldest sister snared.
One of them: scrawny; a scrutinizing smile and deadbeat eyes — snapped his crusty fingers at the middle triplet. Who else but oh-so righteous Carlos?
"Hey, Pepa! You keep up and stay in the heat and maybe you'll start to actually look like you belong in the Madrigals!", he let out a revolting laughter that boomed out across the entrance of the school much to all the poor children's dismay.
Julieta could feel the shocks of agitations surge in her sister's bones. What was so hard about not getting annoyed at some little chatter, chatter, chatter? It didn't matter now, as the drizzle had already invited itself with a harsh patter. The rain splattered down on the schoolyard, and probably the whole village seeing how far the cloud-works stretched out.
Carlos' peeps tagging him all let out a sound that was...—well,it wasn't anything regal. He paraded his way over to the two, coming over with his own idiotic beat, with a silly gaping mouth and a little jazz still fresh in his hands.
He took his bow, "Ladies first! You too, small fries!", and he finished it with a little wink at an irritated Bruno, struggling to even stumble. (This farm boy seemed to be running on zero charm, and all idiocracy.)
Julieta held her hermana's shoulder, trying to subdue her, but she was already approaching the target, "Pepita! Let's go! Wait—!"
Wait. Just for a second — wait. Let the world take a break; let the world break; let the world wait!
And so it did.
The world waited for Julieta. The eldest triplet slowly hovered her hand over Pepa's shoulder and up to Pepa's hair, running through it gently and with elegance — but not at all was it gentle or elegant. Her hand shakily and slowly pushed through the still air, each joint of each finger spazzing out relentlessly. But on the surface, every finger wastremblingjust faintly out of something...
...Something that Julieta couldn't place as of the moment — but nevertheless, she ran her hand through Pepa's hair, and as she flowed down, her movement became more natural. Pepa's hair was free today — and as much as Julieta loved her light, golden curls that bounced around and slammed into their faces all the time, it was best kept in a braid for everyone's sake.
Bruno...
Her hermanito. He was still, but she could still sense his pain — his unnecessary pain. Hand to chest, she scuttled over to her youngest and crouched down to his level. He was all alone with helpless visions that came and went, and that sometimes spelt unwritten doom for one or two, which could only be placed on his back. Whatever was stirring in his head, Julieta had to assume it was bad and she had to for his sake and only because people didn't really give second chances and one bad vision would be evident of that —but let's not dally on what was next. She let her fingers trickle down the side of his face, each touch like a thousand of delicate kisses, and from the grass, a thousand of transparent, glistening splinters wrapping each other, forming a crystal dagger that poked Bruno's ankle.
She looked around: more children skipping up to the doors of the school, some crossing their fingers and staying low to the forsaken ground, with eyes plastered on the futurist, who could never keep his pain a secret — and Carlos.
Carlos!
Julieta clenched her hands: delicate, soft as wool, never scarred, scathed nor splintered — yet. Her diaphragm: cold and bare metal pushing against her heavy chest. She flung off her basket and approached the target, each step of hers pounding at the earth, hand raised and ready to strike!
...But that would only cause strife, wouldn't it?
Julieta bowed her head as a surge of wind attacked her hair. Wind: the only constant in her still world. She lifted her head up, the glint in her eyes as sharp as flint. Each lumbering breath she took only turned her thoughts more and more sour."We know what you tried to imply...",she panned her face up to him, "You really thought you were sly...", and then shespun with ardence, whipping the skirt of her dress into him, and lashing at her siblings,"Well, I'm done letting it slide — so just hurry up and shine; you're wasting everyone's time, you're wasting my time and you're wasting Mamá's time! She won't stand watching you burn! Unlike me, she won't stand watching you burn!"
She ran over to Pepa, clinging to her dress, that glint in her eyes shining a burning reflection of agony, "So just stop storming for a second! Get a grip! We just need the sun warm and tepid! We just need a light drizzle over the farm! Is it too much that we have asked? Your emotions are all over the charts! So get a grip!", she then circled Bruno, "Tell those unwanted visions to go! Everything nobody wants to know! You're a big boy now, Bruno! You aren't a freakshow! Tell those who think else, "no!". Give them any salt that you can throw! I don't care anymore, you know? Just get a grip!"
A small shock...
Their hearts were still; paining. They wouldn't, would they?
Suddenly, it was quaint. But why?
She felt something trickle down her face; something she never let before. They were salty, with a terrible hint of sour, and small and unearned and forthem. Julieta lifted her sleeve to her face and started to press on it, closing her eyes and letting every drop get soaked into the fabric.She opened her glistening eyes to Pepa, who was still as stone, and waiting ready.
In every moment like this before, there were three fundamental truths that Julieta had seen being exerted:
1. Pepa would always clap back, creating unnecessary tension. Well — Pepa was always feisty like that.
2. If she didn't step in now, there'd be a storm and we'd all know it wouldn't make Mamá proud, so she'd hafta say something to make the weather less foul.
3. If Brunito was there (and he was always there), the prophet would cause even more a scare, and their self-image wouldn't fare. They'd be labelled as an unkempt, dangerous, unrighteous pair.
Yet still — she stood still against those truths.
Julieta ran back to her original position and picked up her basket.She'd let the world move without a will of a word from her.
...
Pepa strolled right up to him — not a care in her eyes — pulled him straight up, and shimmied into him, craning down at the ant from the clouds high above. She stuck out her tongue at him and turned to the mounds of people coming in, "Hey, guys? I can't seem to find Carlos anywhere?", her eyes pointed down to him, "Oh! There you are, Carlos! Didn't see you down there on your level!", she leaned back and started fanning herself. Carlos' cheeks burnt a bloody red that was spreading quickly throughout his entire face, much to Pepa's gratitude. Sweet was the only word imaginable — well, if you kept it to a single word — to describe this moment for Pepa, even as bitter as it would seem to most. Every single sweat could slowly be seen gliding down his face, which wouldn't even dare smirk or grin or scrunch this time, but only wrinkle and crinkle itself dry as sand in due time.
Julieta ran to Bruno, who was harbouring an unwanted jade glow working in his eyes — and raised her hand, her flat palm aligned with his cheek. She stuck finger to finger and—
"Wait! I'd just like to say what I say again and again! I know you're tired of it...
...but, I'm sorry."
She glanced at her hand: delicate, soft as wool, never scarred, scathed nor splintered.
Esa vieja mentira.
...
"Agh!", Bruno's eyes singed away that foul green it emitted as his cheek smoked away it's bloody tint.
Julieta squeaked, "Sorry!", she lowered her hand, "Are you okay?"
Bruno rubbed his cheek, "I'm fine.", he gunned his eyes over to her. Julieta gave a soft, tender smile, and his eyes were back to the melancholic and gracious green they once were.
Julieta darted her attention to her sister, who seemed to still be at it with the farm boy. Pepa leaned back and started fanning herself, "Whoo! It seems the sun doesn't hold a candle to you!", she flicked his forehead and blew him out before pushing him away. She strutted inside, "I'll see you tomorrow on the farm, small fries! Not that I'm needed with you precipitating!"
Bruno slowly turned his head. His usually self-kept face turned wide with excitement at Pepa's visible burn mark on Carlos. Julieta couldn't resist a smirk — only just a little one. However, it quickly altered into a more kept and acceptable face, "Come on, Bruno!", she whistled, pushing Bruno inside. Julieta snapped at Pepa, "Pepita! What was your aim? Trying to cause a hurricane?"
Pepa rubbed her head, "Course not! He should have saw it coming a mile away! ¿O eres sordo a lo que dijo?[Or are you deaf to what he said?]"
"No! Just ignore what people say for once before you wrangle up a storm! You're lucky he didn't throw any punches at you!"
"You can heal me!"
"Right now you're being an idiot! And I won't be around to heal you when you get in trouble for acting like one! So, calm down and ignore what people say!"
"Maybe I'll use that advice on you!", Pepa folded her arms and cast her head away, "Hm!".
No matter Pepa's upright and obnoxiously stubborn demeanor, she could never truly hide her actual emotions. The cloud above was pattering her to death. In annoyance, Pepa yanked her cloud and spiked it to the floor before giving it one great smash with the soles of her shoes, before resuming her idle pose as if the previoussequence hadn't even grazed her hermanos' eyes.
Julieta gave an excruciating exhale, "Pepa, just dry off before we get to class. Can you at least do that?"
"Done.", a gust of wind struck Pepa and dried her soaked outfit, "Happy?"
She nodded her head, "Gracias.", she sighed, "I'm sorry, okay?", her head sunk, yet her eyes shot to the top, trying to take a peek of a sulky Pepa, "You aren't an idiot — I know that.", Pepa let out a light grumble. Julieta took a step closer, very warily placing her palm on her sister's back.
Bruno muttered, "I thought you weren't speaking to her.", Pepa rolled her eyes, bopping her head to face him, before letting out a sharp exhale, and a sharper gust to attack Bruno, "Pepa!", he screwed his eyes tight for a few seconds, falling into Julieta, also with eyes screwed, before tearing them back open to the calm, and also to a still fuming Pepa. Julieta pushed him and herself up, dusting Bruno off and picking up her basket.
Julieta clenched her palm red and lifted her hand: delicate, soft as wool, never—! Never...forget. Forget it.Julieta stuck out her index finger, and rushed her sister down, "Hermana! Could you just calm down for a second?"
Bruno's feet edged back from the festering storm, "Julieta, you're shouting—!"
"Please, Brunito, just shut it.", she exclaimed, putting her palm up to his face, "You have a problem! A big one! And you're too stuck-up and inconsiderate and babyish to realise the way you rile yourself up over the tiniest details is negatively impacting the whole of the Encanto!"
Pepa threw her arms back, unleashing her mayhem inside, "You think I'm trying to be Miss Natural Disaster Girl everywhere I go?"
"Well, it certainly appears as if you're trying to be!"
"And you know what you're trying to be? Mamá 2.0! So scold me then! What do you have to say,Señora Perfecta Julieta?"
"I'm not trying to be perfect! I'm trying to keep both of your chaos in order! All you are to everyone is trouble!"
A small shock. Bruno stuttered and stumbled on the word, until eventually leaving his disgust with a scoff,"Chaos?"
"How'd you know? There's no chaos or trouble the kitchen. There's only you. You're oblivious to the pain we deal with everyday; you're too busy living life flipping arepas!"
"Maybe I wouldn't have to flip so many arepas if you didn't cause casualties with every insult thrown your way!"
"Maybe instead of wallowing in your corner silently, you come and stop me from trying to punch someone till they're in the E.R!"
"You're old enough to put your anger in check!"
"And you're old enough to realise you've lost your only hermana!", her eyes gleamed and glittered... and she let out a gasp, one that got robbed before she could even complete it though.
How could she say such a thing?
Pepa screwed her eyes shut, hailing withpenitence, "Sorry, sorry — that wasn't supposed to—"
"Well, guess what? You haven't counted as one in 10 years!"
...For only a moment, everyone's voices stilled, allowing the patter, patter, patter of the hail to bloom by a tenfold — the only constant. Pepa froze static as cold air bit her lungs. An army of thunder clouds snuck under the barracks; grey silencers tore through her screaming heart; her rampant pulse ran for a second, before...
A small shock.
A blood-tear rolled down. Her face shivered and jittered till a dormant ice-blue; her breaths, an unsure frost. "Us not...", another tear, this one out of the other eye, rolled down, "Let me guess, you mean that too? Sure! Great! Then I never counted you as one either!", and she ran without rest.
Bruno stood still, his own body aghast, "Pepa...", he attempted to give chase after her, but Julieta clamped his wrist.
"Bruno — don't.", Julieta moved him to the wall, "I'll get her. Hand!", Bruno put his free palm out to be a plate for an arepa, and watched as she began to run after their sister, "She'll be fine!"
Bruno didn't dare lift his head; for even one pair of shadow-stalkers to glare him straight in the eyes would just butcher his soul. Instead, he eyed down the single arepa in his hand, bothered out of his mind, and not from the damp floor of the hallway getting to his feet, or the giants staring him down. It would be a fib to say he hadn't grown to accept it. But...
"Last time I checked, I was her hermano."
...would it ever end? This moment of sorrow that had overstayed its welcome by ten, eternal years?
End? No — not today. He couldn't let it end.
Just get a grip.
Bruno swung his hood on, and sticking to the floor, chased on after his sister, muttering and mumbling with every step. Bruno finally put sandal to glade, the harrowing storm blackened by agonising wrongfulness and its blood-tears drowning the village in despair, blighting his vision. "Hey, Pepa!", he shouted out for, drying his voice. He got nothing, which was expected for once, but still he continued on, shouting out "Pepa!" in-between every fading breath, and it wasn't long to he found...her.
She turned to Bruno with a great sigh, "Bruno, I thought I told you to—", and forget it. She didn't need an answer, because she was receiving her gift — even if she didn't realise the magnitude of her actions. There was no point in conversing with her, so Bruno did a little something he picked off the two: ignoring people, and instead swerved past. "B-Bruno! Didn't I not—!", she clutched and wrung onto his wrist, and with the old, oh-fabled, sweet, wishful solemn voice climbing up, said, "Brunito.", in a whisper.
Which was what any other would call it, but Bruno knew otherwise. A whisper — no; a will of a word — yes. Bruno ripped his wrist off her terrible grip.
And he was gone. He left Julieta without a will of a word from him.
And he left Julieta with her still heart, now paining.