Mirabel knew they were going to ask; she just doesn't understand why they have to do it during dinner. Best case, it's going to put both Brunos off of eating. Worst case, Bruno stops showing up for meals at all in an attempt to avoid uncomfortable questions, and, by extension, so does Brunito.

Bruno closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and opens them to meet Pepa's gaze. Worse, he maintains the contact, leaning in as much as he can with Brunito in his lap.

"I don't want to talk about it," he says, his voice low. Brunito stares at his plate, chewing a piece of buñuelo with a single-minded thoroughness that rivals any attempt Mirabel has ever seen his older self make at ignoring the world around him. "I will not."

"How are we supposed to help if we don't know what happened, Bruno?" Mirabel's mama sounds tired, but far less exasperated than her aunt. "How do we keep a repeat incident from happening if we don't know what caused it?"

Bruno takes another deep breath, eyes flickering briefly toward the ceiling. "Maybe don't try to pick him up after trying to make him talk about it," he snaps, and Antonio looks up, eyes wide. "Dios mío, why do you think he stopped talking in the first place?"

Mamá pales. "What?"

Bruno is entirely unsuccessful at stifling a sigh. "Right, because I stopped talking for an entire year simply for the fun of it."

"Bruno," Abuela sounds reluctant even as she calls his name. The man jerks his head around so he can meet her gaze, his own eyes wide and more than a little incredulous.

"You never thought to ask why, after three years of visions, I just stopped talking? Never thought to wonder why? Never wondered why the visions were suddenly worse, why I started-" he breaks off, running a hand through his hair, and shakes his head.

"Bruno-" It's Mama this time, looking hurt and betrayed, but her voice is gentle. "Why wouldn't you tell us?"

Bruno blinks at her, his mouth slightly open, caught completely by surprise. "I-" He closes his mouth, swallows, and then opens it again. "I tried," he says helplessly. Both of his sisters move to speak, but he raises a hand to cut them off and they fall silent. He turns to Mirabel's mother, and the woman shifts slightly away from him as if afraid of what he might say next. "You said I shouldn't make up stories like that. That they weren't very nice."

Mamá flinches as if Bruno's hit her. Mirabel's aunt gasps, hand flying to her mouth.

Bruno shrugs. "You probably don't even remember," he says, his voice suddenly gentle in spite of everything-or maybe because of it. "But it's been forty-two years, Juli. I'm not going to suddenly start talking about it now. I don't think I can."

For a moment the table is silent except for the sound of Brunito meticulously chewing. Then-

"I'm sorry, Bruno."

Bruno lets out another sigh, this one indescribably weary. "I know," he admits.

Mirabel doesn't know if Bruno's visions have increased since Brunito showed up, or if she's simply more aware them now that the two of them are spending most of the day together. It's hard not to notice, when he hands the child off to excuse himself only for the kid to start crying a couple minutes later.

Antonio's been spending a lot of time with them as well, which complicates things. They've always tried to protect the youngest Madrigal when it comes to his uncle's visions, but him being around so much means he's there when Bruno leaves, and when Brunito inevitably starts crying, and when Brunito himself has a vision-even Bruno can't always tell when they're coming.

Mirabel doesn't know if Pepa knows how much time her son is spending with them.

She's not sure it's good for him, either, to see so much of the reality of what his uncle's gift entails-a reality that for all his admissions the man seems to have done a fairly good job of hiding from pretty much everyone else in the family.

The two boys are in the floor drawing with crayons because Mamá insisted on no more paints. Mirabel's pretty sure it was the drawing part that she was trying to avoid, but neither boy seems to have noticed, and while Brunito still seems inclined to draw variations of his original five horror-fueled paintings, he never does it around the other adults, and he especially never does it around Bruno.

The man himself is currently asleep on one of the nursery beds. The visions seem to be taking even more of a toll on him than usual. Unfortunately, the napping doesn't seem to be helping as much as Mirabel would hope.

It feels like there's a rift of sorts forming between Bruno and the other adults over all of this, and Mirabel can't help but wonder if this was what it was like before he left. Did they demand answers to questions he could not answer, while ignoring him on the occasions that he actually tried to reach out? Did they treat him like a stubborn child, one who needed a stern hand, when he didn't go along with what they expected of him?

Because they're doing that now. Maybe not intentionally, but Mirabel can still see it. And she can see the way her tío closes himself off just a little bit more every time it happens.

Things are getting worse rather than better, and Mirabel has no idea how to fix any of it.

They're headed to dinner when Bruno stops, swears, and darts back toward the stairs just in time to be completely useless as Mirabel's father trips and falls. The man lands with a sickening crack, and based on the way his foot is turned, Mirabel's pretty sure he's broken his ankle.

Her father is looking more than a bit pale as he tries to decide whether to risk sitting up or simply stay put while Bruno bolts toward the kitchen. In the end, he lifts himself just enough that he can see his daughter, Antonio, and Brunito.

"Bruno's getting food, I think," he reassures them, then blinks. "I'll be okay, Brunito," he says, fairly calm considering the amount of pain he's got to be in. Mirabel looks down and realizes the eight-year-old is staring at him with wide eyes, tears running down his face.

And because it's Bruno, more or less, Mirabel recognizes the guilt in his eyes, and realizes the boy isn't crying because he's scared.

"Shhh," she reaches for him, but he draws back, eyes darting to her, and now he's afraid, but of what, Mirabel doesn't know. "Brunito?"

He takes another step backward, eyes widening, and opens his mouth.

"I'm sorry!" he blurts, then turns and runs.

Mirabel, unprepared for the first thing he says to be that, does not immediately go after him.

Her father sighs. "Mirabel," he says, closing his eyes against the pain as he tries to sit up.

Mirabel looks down at her dad, then takes off after the boy.

She finds him in the nursery, under the bed, sobbing.

"Brunito?" she calls, softly, not wanting to frighten him even more.

"I said I was sorry!" There's a note of panic in the kid's reply, one that Mirabel isn't entirely sure what to do with. "I thought-I didn't mean-I-"

Whatever he's trying to get out, he never quite manages it. Mirabel resigns herself to waiting him out, even though the floor isn't particularly comfortable and she's worried about her dad and she has no idea why Bruno isn't here to help, even if he was probably getting food to help her dad, and even if there's probably a whole crowd of family members swarming him, demanding to know what happened.

By the time the crying subsides into tiny, almost silent hiccups, Mirabel's arm is starting to fall asleep.

"Better?" she asks, taking it as a win when he doesn't start crying again. "Why don't you come out?"

He hesitates for a moment before giving in, crawling out from under the bed. Mirabel sits up as he gets to his feet, looking the boy over briefly before opening her arms to offer him a hug.

He flinches. He also remains where he is, staring at the ground, bracing himself as if-

Mirabel feels a little sick to her stomach, but tries not to let her sudden horror show.

"Hey," as soft as she says it, the boy flinches again. Mirabel swallows back the lump trying to form in her throat. "It's okay," she says. "I'm not going to hurt you."

She hates that she guessed right, but the kid looks up all the same, surprise written plainly on his features.

"I'm sorry," he says again, looking back down at the floor.

"For what?" She wants nothing more than to hug him tight and never let go, but it's obvious that he sees her as more of a threat than anything else right now.

"I should have said something." He looks panicked. "I thought-I thought maybe if I didn't-" He bites his lip, tears starting to form again. "I didn't want you to be mad at me. I only saw him fall. I didn't see him break his ankle."

Mirabel stares at him for a moment, trying to sort through everything he's said. "You saw my dad fall?" she asks, and he nods. "In a vision?" Another nod, and the guilt is back in his eyes, accompanied by fear. "And you didn't say anything because you thought I'd be mad at you?"

"Yes," he admits, his voice barely a whisper, and Mirabel takes a long, slow breath.

"Why would I be mad?" she asks, trying to sound reassuring. "It's not your fault he fell."

The boy looks up then. "I saw it happen," he says, sounding far more tired than any eight-year-old should ever sound. "I should have seen something better. I'm sorry."

Mirabel shakes her head. "It didn't happen because you saw it, Brunito," she says, but she can tell he doesn't quite believe her.

"My friend fell in the water. I told him not to play by the river. I told his big brother it wasn't safe." Brunito is looking past her now, staring through the wall as if it doesn't exist, his head tilted slightly to the left. "He drowned." This last part came out in nearly a whisper.

"That doesn't make it your fault." Mirabel insists, now trying not to cry herself because she knows this particular story, and she knows what happens next. What she hadn't known was that Bruno had been friends with the boy that drowned.

"Every time I see something bad, people get hurt," Brunito says. "His brother's friends said it should have been me. That I should do everyone a favor and drown myself. Then they pushed me in."

Mirabel didn't know that either.

"I almost didn't make it back out. I-I thought they were going to stand there and watch it happen," he admits.

He sounds a little like he thinks he deserved it, and it suddenly occurs to her to wonder if anyone ever told the boy standing before her that the things he sees are not his fault.

She also wonders if anyone ever told Bruno.

"They were wrong," she tells him firmly. "What they did was wrong. What Marco did to you was wrong. You didn't deserve any of it, and none of it was your fault. You don't make these things happen."

He looks like no one's ever told him any of this before, standing there staring at her with wide eyes.

"I don't know why you see the things you do, Brunito," Mirabel says. "But they aren't your fault, and you don't deserve to be punished for them. And I'm not mad at you. Neither is Bruno, neither is Antonio, neither is my dad. If anything, they're probably worried about you."

He looks away for a moment, blinking rapidly as if trying not to cry again, then looks back at her. His voice, when he speaks, is small and soft and hopelessly fragile.

"Promise?" he asks, and Mirabel smiles at him even as the tears start to fall.

"I promise." He all but throws himself at her, and suddenly they're both hugging and crying and holding on to each other like neither intends to ever let go.

The sound of Mirabel's father clearing his throat interrupts the moment. Brunito tenses and pulls away, and Mirabel lets him go, albeit reluctantly, because she can feel the way he started to hunch back in on himself the second he became aware that they were not alone.

The fear is back in his eyes as he turns toward the door.

Mirabel's dad is standing there, looking uncomfortable. Bruno is behind him, lurking just outside the doorway, looking worried. Mirabel's not sure what he's waiting for, though, because usually he swoops right in when the kid's distraught. Now, for whatever reason, he's hanging back.

Papá looks down at the boy, and Mirabel watches him physically resist the urge to stoop down to Brunito's level. "Brunito, you okay?"

She's heard him talk to her uncle in that same tone of voice before-intentionally soft and calm and almost, but not quite, gentle. Behind him Bruno relaxes, just a little.

Brunito doesn't react the same way. "I'm sorry," he says to the man, eyes darting back to the floor, his tiny body once again bracing itself as if expecting some sort of retaliation.

Papá's eyebrows lift slightly in surprise to hear the boy speak, but he doesn't comment. Instead he asks, in that same careful tone, "Because I fell?"

Brunito nods, and Mirabel's father takes a minute to study the child before him.

"You haven't really been around long enough to know this, but I'm more than a little bit accident prone. I get hurt a lot. Trip over stairs, trip over rocks, trip over completely flat ground. Walk into bee's nests..." The boy winces, and Papá smiles. "I've been tripping over things much longer than you've been around, niño. Longer than I've known Bruno, even." He nods backward toward the other man still lurking just outside the door. "You've had, what, one vision of me falling? Maybe more, he concedes, as Bruno shifts uncomfortably behind him. But I'm pretty sure that unless you've seen every accident I've ever had in my entire life, then you being able to see the future didn't make it happen, entiendes?"

Brunito doesn't immediately respond, but Papá seems content to allow him the space to think it over, because he offers the boy another smile and excuses himself, shooting Mirabel a wink as he turns away.

He also brushes against Bruno on his way out the door, but whether or not it's intentional, the girl is not entirely sure.

Bruno settles on the bed, also apparently giving the smaller version of himself space, and Mirabel hopes it's the right decision as she settles back in the armchair and picks her latest sewing project back up.

She keeps an eye on both of them as she works, Bruno staring through the wall across the room, and Brunito still staring at the floor.

The kid says nothing else for the remainder of the day, not when Mamá calls up the stairs that it's time for dinner, not when Papá greets him with an easy smile and an "Hola, niño," as he settles in Bruno's lap at the table, not when Antonio tries to ask "Are you okay?" in a whisper that pretty much the entire table can hear.

Mirabel doesn't know how many people are currently aware that he spoke earlier, but isn't about to bring it up at the dinner table. Apparently her father isn't either, because he doesn't react when Brunito doesn't reply to his greeting; Mirabel's not entirely sure whether or not that's a good thing.

Antonio also doesn't press the older boy when he doesn't answer, but he does look up at Bruno, and, when his uncle doesn't seem to notice, over at Mirabel.

She smiles at her prima. "He's okay," she says. "Remember the first time you saw Dad fall and hurt himself? Remember how scared you were?"

Antonio nods, shoots the other boy a sympathetic glance, then turns his attention back to his dinner.

Dolores watches them, lips pressed together, and Mirabel isn't sure what her older cousin is thinking but figures she had to have heard Brunito earlier. Mirabel figures she also heard what Mirabel said to him, and what her father said as well.

Dolores, however terrible she is at keeping other things secret, has always been very careful about what she reveals when it comes to Bruno, and so far Brunito hasn't really proven to be any different. Their eyes meet across the table, and Delores spares Mirabel a knowing sort of glance before turning her attention back to her plate as well.

As grateful as Mirabel is that the whole ordeal is not about to be discussed over dinner, it doesn't really make Mirabel feel better, because Casita is starting to feel like a house full of secrets, and it reminds her of before Bruno came back, when nobody would talk about him, and when they finally did it was only in hushed whispers.

Bruno lets out a soft sigh, and the boy in his lap shifts slightly, but does not look up from his own meal that he is, admittedly, only picking at. At least he's eating, though. Bruno-

Mirabel isn't sure when her tío last ate.

At bedtime Mirabel ends up in the nursery with him again, this time in separate beds, because other than at dinner he's been very careful about keeping space between himself and everyone else, including Bruno, and the few times she's offered to pick him up he's simply ducked his head and taken a step back.

She's surprised when she's awakened in the dead of night not by screaming, but by the simple act of him raising the covers and sliding into bed next to her. She waits a moment, letting him get settled, before risking putting an arm around him.

They make it through the rest of the night without incident. No nightmares, no visions, no accidents.

When Bruno finds them the next morning they're both still in bed, Mirabel wide awake but unwilling to disturb the kid as he continues to sleep. As soon as Bruno settles in the rocking chair, though, his eyes fly open and he's out of bed, climbing into the older man's lap and whispering to him in rapid-fire Spanish that Mirabel can't quite hear.

Bruno blinks, his expression suddenly serious, and his gaze flicks to Mirabel ever so briefly before resettling back on his younger self. He moves as if to get up, maybe to continue whatever conversation they're having more privately.

"Don't worry about me," Mirabel says quickly, throwing back the covers. "I'm off to, uh, see about breakfast stuff."

Brunito pauses speaking only just long enough to spare her a slightly mystified glance before turning back to his older self.

Author's Note: Well, I'm back. Back to this entirely self-indulgent bit of nonsense. I don't if anyone's been waiting with baited breath for more updates or not, but here's more, take it or leave it, although I would assume if you're reading this that you're getting at least some small bit of enjoyment out of it. I hope some of you are at least.

Thanks for reading, reviewing, all that, and well, inspiration seems to have struck, so I've actually got more than just this chapter written, they just need some editing and then they're ready to go. So there's that.

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