"So, let me get this straight..." Leaning back into the armchair, Bruno standing across from you, you tried to find a way to piece everything together. Moving your hands around in the empty space in front of you, you found your Tío staring intently, as if waiting for them to do something.
"Do you need time to...comprehend everything?" he tried asking, his voice unsteady, and small. You shook your head, and slumped into the chair. You created a little flicker of nothing but a spark, weaving it between your fingers. Bruno watched with great interest, up until it dissipated and you sat forward with your elbows on your knees.
"Ten years ago, when Mirabel—" You paused, trying to think up the right words. "When the Gifting Ceremony didn't work...Abuela had asked you to look into the future? To see what could be hurting the magic..." You looked up at Bruno, and he nodded, almost sadly. "What you saw when you did look...it was Mirabel. You saw her standing before Casita...as it was cracking and crumbling. But the vision itself wasn't very clear, so it was open for interpretation?" Bruno shrugged, in a 'yeah, basically' motion. "You saw the candle going out. The magic...dying. And you saw Mirabel at the center of it all. So some way or another, she'd either save or destroy everything Abuela values most in the world: the miracle. What is provided for the Encanto, through the family." Another short nod from Bruno. "But...because of your reputation in the Encanto...you knew everyone would assume the worst of Mirabel. Think she was...intentionally trying to hurt the miracle. The family. So...you left to try and protect her from all of that. Give her somewhat of a decent life, without that vision of yours hanging over her head like a target." The man avoided looking at you in the eye, instead fiddled with the frayed seam of his ruana. He looked shameful, and frail. As though the "miracle" part of his gift had died out long before he had, leaving him more of a hollow shell with magical properties.
"Tío Bruno..." You sat back again, and let your hands fall into your lap. Meanwhile Bruno's hands would not stop twisting themselves into each other as he timidly looked at you, afraid of what you may say, or think, of him.
"I still love my family, Y/n...I just...my gift—it didn't..." he moved his hands around in a circular motion, struggling to find a way to convey his thoughts into comprehensive sentence structures. "It wasn't really helping the family. I never wanted to be an inconvenience. I think a lot of people just kinda got the wrong idea on what I was trying to do..."
Looking around Bruno's small, poorly furnished, makeshift bedroom hidden away in the walls, you felt a pang of something like guilt gnawing away at your stomach.
At least now one thing made sense. Dolores' constant fascination with staying in the dining room after the table has been cleared, and her quiet whispers to the portrait on Pepa's and Julieta's birthdays. She must have been talking to Bruno all these years. Of course, with him so close at all times, it made sense she would obviously hear him every day.
You stared down at your hands, flexing your fingers around the soft pulse of light in your palms. Bruno watched as the little streak bounced around in your hands, almost drawn to the display, as everyone else in the Encanto was.
"Why didn't you tell anyone? Surely they wouldn't have blamed it on Mirabel? Or on you?"
Bruno shook his head dejectedly.
"No, kid...it wouldn't have worked that way. Somehow it would have gotten out. I would have said something small to someone...and it would have gotten out. No one would ever look at or treat Mirabel the same way again. The girl already hadn't gotten a gift that night...I wasn't going to be the reason she was in constant pain for the rest of her life. It was...better, this way."
Your heart hurt at the sight of the man who'd given up everything, to protect your friend. Standing up, you decided to lean against the small makeshift stand beside him, and lean your head on his shoulder. This time, he wasn't tense.
"What if there were a way for you to come back, though?"
"What are you talking about, Mariposita?"
You shrugged, and crossed your arms loosely over your chest.
"I don't know, Tío...if your vision of Mirabel was the reason you left...what if there was some way to further understand it? Bring justice to ten years of waiting for it to make sense?" Bruno's head hung low as you spoke, his hair brushing against your forehead. "Mirabel said she saw Casita cracking on the night of Antonio's Gifting Ceremony. If she has some big connection to the miracle, why can't she know? Maybe there's a way she can fix it..."
You knew you were grasping at straws with Tío Bruno...but you had to try. If there was a way to bring him back, and to help Mirabel understand what's going on, and a way to fix whatever's hurting the magic...surely this vision would have something to do with it! Maybe it could even help you understand why, during all of this, your own light has been dimmer, flickering closer into the void of darkness, than upwards into the familiar warmth of the sun.
"It's more complicated than that, kid," was all Bruno said.
Frowning, you pushed yourself from the stand, and stood in front of your Tío. As you spoke, you continued to get closer and up into his face, as though you were demanding answers. You'd ended up backing him into a corner, and he held his hands up in defense.
"Why not? What if there was something in there you missed? What if your vision wasn't a bad omen, but, like, an instruction manual on how to save the miracle? Why couldn't there be a way to see more into it? What if you gave me a vision, and it showed us how to—"
"Y/n!" Startled by Bruno's sudden volume, you jumped back, eyes wide. His eyes turned tired, and he pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Lo siento, Y/n...but you know I won't give you a vision. I can't just have another vision, after this last one cast me out of the family for the past ten years... I can't risk hurting you, or them, again."
You let out a stuttered breath, and your arms fell to your side.
"So you're just gonna give up on trying to help them?"
"My gift is the reason it's all falling apart! I want to help my family, Y/n, as much as you do. But me seeing into another broken future won't help them."
You felt a burning beat rushing to your cheeks, and the memory of the last time you'd asked Bruno for a vision crept into your thoughts.
"Why do you keep refusing to look into my future, Tío Bruno?" Your question seemed to catch the man off guard, and he tilted his head to look at you.
"What do you mean, Y/n?"
"I mean...any time I try to bring up any slight possibility of you looking into my future, you get all nervous and sweaty and refuse. You've looked into Dolores' and Isabela's futures? Nearly everyone else's in the Encanto? Yet when it comes to mine you avoid even trying like it's the plague. What is it about my future that has you on such an edge? Is it my gift?"
The man looked as though you'd just sucker punched him in the gut, and a bead of sweat trickled from his brow. He looked at you with big, saddened eyes, motioning with his hands in an attempt to physically pull his words together to explain to you what seemed to be impossible. Eventually, he gave up with a sigh, and leaned back into the corner.
"Because the night you got your gift, I had already looked into your future, Mariposita..." Stunned, some lights pulsed nervously above your head. Like a heartbeat.
"What do you mean, you 'already looked' into my future, Tío?"
Sighing, Bruno motioned for you to follow him. He led you to a heavily hanging picture on the wall, one of his family tree that'd somehow made it back here, and groaned before taking it down. You watched in nervous anticipation, and the lights above your heads pulsated rapidly with your heartbeat. You didn't really notice, but Bruno did. He knew it was too late to back out of this now, though. So, carefully opening up the back of the portrait, she slid away the back wooden panel and revealed a glowing slab of emerald, peeking through a flimsy layer of old newspaper.
"I had this vision...the night after you'd asked me to show you your future. It was—"
"I remember the day, Tío," you interrupted. A quick look of shock passed Bruno's features, and he nodded before continuing.
"Your worried little tone...well it had me thinking. You'd insisted something bad would happen if you got a gift...so I looked into it after you'd left."
Twisting your hands, you watched as Bruno slowly unwrapped the vision, leaning past his shoulder to look.
"But why wouldn't you show me? Why wait until later to see for yourself?"
Bruno didn't look at you directly, but you weren't blind to the look of sympathy in his eyes.
"Because I didn't want to put any kind of weight, good or bad, on a five-year-old girl just days before her Gifting Ceremony. I didn't want you to think that your gift was a curse."
"But was it?"
With a loaded question comes a loaded answer. Turning to present you the slab, he held it up to his chest and showed it to you. A cold shiver dove down your spine, and the lights beating above your head quickened to an inhuman pace before freezing at a dull, dreary glow. The emerald tablet was the main source of light in the room now.
Shown on the slab, was the Madrigal family. But, much like how Tío Bruno had described Mirabel's vision, your future also seemed...undecided. When you looked at it one way, you saw the Madrigals all standing in front of Casita, smiling like it was just another family portrait. You stood in the center of it all, and the sun shone like a halo above your head. Everyone looked happy. Some of them even looked a little more happy than they were now. No cracks visible in Casita. Luisa's smile was genuine. Isabela looked nothing like the prim and perfect little princess she was known to be. There were splatters all across her skirts, and her eyes had a light in them brighter than your halo. Abuela hugged Mirabel from behind, both hands on her shoulders. She looked happy. Bruno stood between his two sisters, holding a hand with you on one side, Mirabel on the other. Camilo was holding your other hand, and Dolores was grinning down at the two of you with affection. Antonio was at Pepa's feet, next to his jaguar, but holding Mirabel's other hand. Julieta and Pepa each had an arm around their brother, Felix and Agustín flanking their sides. Everyone looked free, happy, and limitless. However, when you looked at the tablet from another angle...it showed anything but those things.
This side of the tablet turned your blood to ice. The images of each of the Madrigals were all separate, you could tell, but layered and merged together into one big monstrosity of anguish.
Pepa's storm raged far above, as she sobbed violently into Felix. Felix, unlike his usual self, looked broken and defeated. No sense of Felix was left in his eyes. He was hollow. Julieta's hands were outstretched, as if reaching for something she knew she couldn't ever touch. Agustín was nowhere to be seen.
Abuela Alma looked as though her world had been set to flames. A dark circle of energy grew from her heart out to each grandchild in the vision, encircling them in a dark mist. Mirabel was kneeling down on the ground over an empty spot in the dirt, sobbing into it with one hand over her mouth. Her glasses were in her other hand, which clenched the earth in her fist. The lens was missing from the left side of the thin green frames. The right was cracked. Next to her sat Dolores, her dress muddy and torn at the hem, and her tears directed themselves at the sky, as if pleading with god. Her hair stuck out in all directions, frizzy and unruly. Antonio clung to his sister's side with sobs seemingly lodged in his throat, fists tangled into her skirt.
Isabela's hands covered her face, but a bush of ivy and thorns grew around her feet like a plague. Her hair was shorter than it had been before, and there were some stray leaves sticking out of it. Luisa, out of all the family members, looked the most detached. It was strange to see her so broken, as she was always the strongest of the Madrigals. Tears streamed down her face like gushing rivers. She slumped over herself, looking fragile and weakened. But out of all the grandchildren, all the adults, Camilo's anguished expression tore your heart out the fastest. The moment you saw it, the lights in the room popped. They were replaced by shards of broken light, and Bruno jumped.
Camilo's ruana was missing, as it was now. His mouth was twisted into a frozen state of broken grief, anguish, and agony. It was hard to tell whether he was screaming or sobbing, mouth frozen open mid-cry. His eyes were clenched shut, thick tears streaming down his face, salting the earth. His hands were frozen in the air in front of him, clutching at nothing, and everything. It pained you to see him like this. Even if it wasn't real...it was in Bruno's vision. It was likely to happen. And you were nowhere to be seen.
Something was off about this cold green slab of fortune-telling rambling, though. It wasn't like how you'd pictured a vision to look. It looked so disorganized and scattered, like a page in a scrapbook. A handful of random, separated moments in time, pieced together in a way that represented the same values, but all from isolated moments. It...was jumbled. Didn't make sense. To top it off, it was a two-sided image. One of light and halos and sunshine, the other of despair. What, exactly, were you supposed to pull from this future of yours? Looking up at Tío Bruno, you knew he was trying to figure out the same thing. In fact, he may have been trying to figure out this same thing for the past ten years. Why else would he keep it hidden away in a portrait hanging just above his little bed? Right where he could easily stare at it all night, every night, for the past ten years?
"What the everloving f—"
"My thoughts exactly, Mariposita," Bruno interrupted, holding one finger up around the vision. "No need for foul language, though."
Folding your arms over your chest, you dipped your head and leaned on your hip, giving Bruno an incredulous look.
"As if you didn't say the exact same thing when you first got a look at it?"
Called out, Bruno shrugged and tossed the vision slab onto the arm chair. You let yourself smirk a little, seeing him glare halfheartedly at you with the "you didn't have to say it out loud" look. But even still, it was hard to comprehend whatever was going on in that vision. You couldn't even begin to imagine what it might have been like for Bruno to see it for the first time. It was a wonder he was even tolerating being around you right now.
The lights above your head replicated your heartbeat, and their pace started quickening. Bruno, taking notice of this, turned to look at you in what he hoped was a soft gaze. Unfortunately, it was met with the look of a girl about to fall.
The familiar feeling of a rug being swept out under you swirled your senses, and despite the lights getting brighter above you, your vision swam in distorted darkness. Your heart felt like a hammer against your rib cage. Your head pounded right behind your eyes. Your stomach twisted up into a knot. You couldn't breathe.
Unable to steady yourself in your surroundings, you struggled to keep yourself in balance on your own two feet. You clutched at Camilo's ruana, and mere moments before your head hit the ground, you felt a pair of surprisingly warm hands wrap themselves around you from the front, and guide you into a sitting position against a very warm wall.
You could faintly hear Tío Bruno's worried voice, but it was so far away you couldn't understand what he was saying. You heard one thing before everything else went dark, but you wouldn't be able to remember come morning.
"What have I done?"