I Dream of Disney (Volume II)

I Remember Bruno (no, no) [Bruno Madrigal x Reader] Part III

Part III - The Question (and the Answer)

I remember when I realised what the question was. It occurred to me in the most bizarre way, two years later, when I was in the orchard. The breeze was cool and welcoming, batting away the heat that clawed at me and stained red on my cheeks. Mama was on me again about sunspots and wrinkles, so I stayed mostly to the shade. I was unaccompanied at the time, sighing in that dismal way when Bruno wasn't with me, and thinking with some venom about his new girlfriend. Malina didn't last – but neither did the length of time that he was single. His mother was burdened with some strange and powerful mission to get his son to settle down – since he wasn't sure about what he wanted. His current girlfriend was named Eva.

"Think about something else," I grumbled to myself. "Te volverás loca."

Shaded by the twisting boughs of the tree, I languidly reached up and picked a mangosteen. The vibrant red-purple of the skins oozed through my mind like the sweat on the back of my neck, reminding me of a matador's swishing cape, the scales of a red snapper that I'd once caught on a fishing trip with my papa, and the deep red of the tourmaline stone in the old necklace that my abuela used to wear. I picked at it lightly, not sure if I wanted to eat it or not, and then pressed it to my lips.

It was tart at first. Then came the subtle, fruity sweetness. I enjoyed the smell of the mangosteen and it brought forth another round of memories that I couldn't stop. Sighing, I discarded the rest of the purple fruit and watched it rustle away through the bushes from my poor throw. I didn't know why I was so nostalgic today. Maybe it was because his sister, Peppa, got married two weeks ago and – surprise, surprise – we were sat at two opposite ends of the party. Maybe it was because I missed Bruno. Maybe it was. . .

And then it hit me.

Bruno's cavernous room didn't exactly make one relish in creature comforts. It was sandy and desolate and gave you the impression of being locked inside of an enormous stone hourglass. Though the thin windows were far, far above me, there was a warm and uncomfortable gust that swirled sand in my eyes and made my lips feel like sandpaper (and, no, that's not a pun). There were rats scurrying around in some places which, at first unnerving, you get used to after years of being friends with someone who keeps them as pets. It was just the unfortunate smell that lingered after them that I didn't enjoy.

Out of all of those less-than-ideal amenities, there was one thing that I just couldn't get past.

Bruno must've heard me coming because I saw him standing at the top of the stairs. He was dressed in a loose robe, opened slightly at the torso to allow more heat to escape, and his dark curls were being whisked around in this wind. There was a smile at the corner of his mouth and I knew exactly what he was going to say.

"Screw . . . these. . . stairs," I panted and heaved from exhaustion. "I'll . . . never get used. . . to them."

"Ay, Amorcito," Bruno teased. "Not as young as you used to be?"

"I miss being a teenager," I finally worked my way up to full sentences, though I was still gasping badly. "This whole woman thing is annoying."

The man laughed. It brought heat to my face to hear how his voice had changed so much in the last few years. I could still remember how high his little giggle was when he was a boy or, years later, when his voice would break awkwardly in the middle of a sentence and I would smile at him to make him feel better. But now it was deeper and I loved to hear him laugh.

It wasn't a sound that I heard a lot anymore. Thanks to his Monster – er – I mean, Mother.

"What can I help you with, Amorcito?" Bruno asked as he offered me some water.