Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Camilo fumbled down the stairs, letting the casita do the work to bring the steps to him. He could barely see through the bleery sleep still clinging to his eyes, and his hands as he tried to rub it away. He didn’t bother checking if Dolores’ door was completely shut. He was just getting a glass of water, maybe some milk. At worst, he’d sneak something small of Tia Julieta’s to calm his heart. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, definitely nothing worthy of his sister tattling to their parents or Abuela. Not that she often did. For all of her failure to keep secrets, she seemed to have his back so long as he didn’t do something awful. Well, she did also cover for their tio living in the casita’s walls for ten years. Maybe she wasn’t so bad at keeping secrets.

He yawned again, reaching up and feeling the cup fall into his hand. The sink turned on as he stuck it vaguely in that direction.

“Are you alright, Camilo?” He screamed, choking on the water in his mouth, and getting soaked in all of it that wasn’t. He just barely caught the movement in the dark, and the light scurrying of something across the tiles, and his tailbone erupted into pain as he hit the floor. The light turned on, illuminated a shocked and mildly horrified Bruno blinking at him. It didn’t calm his nerves.

He had made a point to avoid his tio at any and every chance for as long as he’d been living among them again. It was easy; the man was rarely out of his room for more than meals and when his mother and sisters, and Mirabel, forced him to be. Camilo had noticed him sometimes lurking in the hallway while all the grandkids were cuddled up with Dolores or one of the women reading to them, but he had never stepped into the room. Antonio would sometimes go on about them spending time together in the jungle, or talking to the rats, and it made Camilo want to scoop up his baby brother and lock him far, far away from the man.

Dark green eyes were still fixed on him from across the room, and it felt like all the air in his chest had been stolen. Bruno slowly stood up from the table, and like this, staring up at the lanky figure towering over him, Camilo felt five years old again. He didn’t know what he expected. He had been raised on the horror stories of the man, had nightmares of his tio, not at all helped by his mama and Abuela’s occasional hushed, “you’re going to end up just like him,” whenever he did something particularly unhelpful with his gift. Demonio, he had just woken up from one! Bruno just grabbed a towel off of the counter, offering it. When Camilo scrambled back at the outstretched hand, it just pulled a sad frown, and the towel was tossed into his lap.

“You should get cleaned up. I– I’ll, uh, see you at breakfast, Camilo.” The man skirted around him, glancing back when he reached the doorframe. “I’m sorry for… Scaring you. Buenas noches.”

He was still frozen in his spot long after he could no longer see the man, and even after the footsteps faded and he could barely hear the light latch of a door in the silent house. He swallowed, trying to ignore how much his hands shook as he grabbed the towel off his leg and held it to his chest.

“Milo?’ He let out yet another shriek, his heart beating in his throat, and squeezed his eyes shut. “Ow! Calm down, it’s just me!”

“Ah, I’m sorry! Dolores, are you alright?” She nodded slowly, eyeing him, and the puddle of water, and the broken glass shards spread out around him.

“I… Heard Tio Bruno. Did something happen? I just caught the end of it.” They just stared at each other for a long minute, as his heart calmed and his head started to ache. “Camilo? Hermanito? Are you alright? If… Something happened, with Tio Bruno, I can go wake Abuela.”

“No! No, nothing– nothing happened! I just… Slipped. Y’know. Tired, clumsy. He was just going to bed.” His sister raised an eyebrow, but didn’t press. She probably knew how terrified the mere thought of Bruno made him, but he wasn’t going to outright say that. Everyone else had accepted the man back in a heartbeat. His Abuela was glad to have her son, and his mama and tia were almost doting over their “little baby brother,” despite having been so harsh when talking about him in the past, (and present, sometimes, in his mama’s case, when she thought it was just her and papa.) The older girls just talked to him like no time had skipped since they were preteens, and Mirabel was, well, Mirabel. Antonio was too little to even understand the rumors and stories, much less be scared by them. It was just him, and he couldn’t let anyone know he was the odd one out.

“Go change. I’ll clean up, Camilo.” She offered a kind, warm, sisterly smile, and pat his hair. “You know what mama would say if she saw you up this late.” He took the opportunity to ditch the hesitant mood, and quickly felt himself change into a tiny copy of his mother, complete with an appalled gasp in the extra-squeaky voice.

“Oh, diablos, chico! Up to no good! Stay with Abuela! Mama, give him jobs! No sleeping for him, not until tonight! Napping will only make him worse!” Dolores giggled, and swatted his head with the towel as he shifted back. He spun around her towards the door, but yelped as his foot was sliced open on a shard of glass. He desperately grappled for her sleeve as he hopped, whimpering. She just cooed, and the tiles of the counter shifted to bring a few cocadas over towards them. He quickly shoved one into his mouth, and sighed as the pain immediately faded.

“Go to bed, Camilo.”

“Going to bed. Te amo tanto, gracias.” She just pointed to the door, and he was much more careful when making his way back to his room.

He didn’t go to bed. He laid in the middle of the stage, staring at the mirrors surrounding him, and out at the rows upon rows of empty chairs. He never really liked his room. When he was little, sure it was cool. It was a whole theatre, all to himself. He always loved the whole world of actors, plays, and dramas. The entire idea of becoming someone else for a time thrilled him, even before he got his gift.

Anymore, it just felt lonely. His bed was tucked away, only accessible by the catwalks and a tall, metal spiral staircase. Any belongings he had were contained in the rooms behind the stage. If anyone ever came in, it was nothing but an empty, impersonal auditorium filled with mirrors. But, it was his, and it was familiar. He could hide out on the balconies or the catwalks and disappear for a few hours. He knew every scuff on the stage, every stain on the chairs. There was one spot on the edge of the stage that never failed to make his chest ache and his eyes burn. A board was offset, just enough for the darkness underneath to peek through. He could never bring himself to fix it.

––

He was so tiny, still dressed up in his white ceremonial suit, tight and scratchy. He was so excited that night. It was his birthday, his fifth birthday, his gift ceremony. He had been waiting for so long, and he was so happy when he learned what it was. He had cheered, thrown himself into the waiting arms of his parents, and then hugged his tio tightly, whispering into the man's ear about his joy.

The entire party, he was giddy and sociable, even if he spent a good portion of it huddled to a corner to sit on his tio's lap. At least it gave him plenty of chances to eat without his mama or tia scolding him about choking. Not to mention, he loved his tio, he was Camilo's favourite person ever. He was more than happy to get away from the thick crowd and snuggle up to his chest, even if the man stayed mostly silent and seemed tense as he watched people.

But, after everyone had left, and the house was dim and quiet, his perfect day was shattered. He just wanted to get a glass of milk before bed, maybe practice his gift a little bit, and snuck off to the kitchen. Everyone was supposed to be in bed, right? It was late, and everyone was tired. If anything, he would expect Tio Bruno to be awake and alone, rummaging through the cupboards for food.

But, upon peeking around the corner to the kitchen, he saw Abuela, Mama, and Tia Julieta gathered around in a tight circle. He perked up and hid around the corner, expecting to hear some big family secret or something.

"Mama, I'm sure it'll be fine," his tia's gentle, hushed voice made him creep a little closer.

"I just don't see how it's supposed to help. We were given gifts for a reason, and I don't see how this is going to help anyone."

"Mama, he's a baby. He'll figure it out, like we all did."

"Your son is going to end up just as useless as your brother, Pepa."

"Mama!" Camilo felt his heart drop, and his eyes sting. Abuela didn't like his gift? His mother wasn't even making much effort to defend him,even as his tia was. Did she not like him, either?

"He can't even have the gifts when he turns into someone. If we needed another Luisa to move things, or another Dolores when someone goes missing, he's still of no help." Camilo stepped back from the door, quivering a tiny bit.

"He could… Well…" His mama trailed off, and he bit back a sob. His shoes clicked on the floor as he turned and ran back up the stairs, chest seizing with sobs.

His door slammed shut behind him, and he ran towards the dark stage. He hadn't even figured out the layout of his room. He didn't want to go onto the scary metal bridges again yet to get to bed. Everything was big, and loud, and echoey, and dark. He didn't know how the lights worked. Sometimes, they'd be blinding white, shining in his eyes. During the party, everything was colourful and flashing. Now, they were almost completely off, making eerie shadows stretch and making him trip over every step and bump into things. He just collapsed into the cold wooden stage, and sobbed.

After too long, when his chest ached and his throat was sore and his head throbbed, he stood up. He paced, rubbing his eyes on the scratchy sleeves and hiccuping. The stage was long, and it took him a minute or two to get from one end to the other, and another to get back again. He couldn't tell if it was calming him down, or making him more sad and scared.

Abuela didn't like his gift. Abuela didn't like him. Mama didn't like him. Tia Julieta… Well, she was always nice, but even she didn't disagree that he was useless. Would anyone ever like him?

There was a gentle knock that echoed through the room. He stared at the door, shaking. Did they hear him? Was Mama here to yell at him about eavesdropping and not being in bed. He took a step back. He could hide behind the curtains and nobody could find him.

"Camilo?" He sniffled, and stayed where he was. "Your sister told me to come check on you."

"T– Tio…" The door clicked shut, and Bruno looked up at the thick, choked voice. The stage lights flicked a little brighter, and his tio's face turned horrified.

"Oh, Camilo, niño, what happened?" He hiccuped again, and felt a hot flash of anger flash through him. He stood near the edge of the stage, and growled, kicking one of the boards. Maybe it was the casita playing a trick, but it moved under him, sending him tumbling back. He just started sobbing again. Bruno ran onto the stage, and scooped him up, cradling him like a baby to his chest. "What's wrong? What happened, mi amore?"

"She was– they were– Tio, they– they–" He gripped at the man's ruana, burying his face in the soft green fabric.

"Camilo, niño, breathe. Aspirar, espirar. I've got you." He sobbed, his tio gently rocking him back and forth, and slowly relaxed into the arms.

"Abuela hates me." Bruno hummed, carefully sitting down on the stage, cradling the little boy in his lap. The lights dimmed again, but with him wrapped up tight and warm in his tio's arms, it was more comfy and sleepy than scary.

"Why do you say, Camilo?" He sniffled, and snuggled closer.

"Abuela says– says I'm useless. I can't help anyone. She… She said I'll end up like you," he whispered, hiding his face. Bruno didn't seem upset, but did tense a bit.

"Your Abuela said that to you?" Camilo slowly shook his head.

"To Mami and Tia. Didn't– they didn't know I was listening. Wanted milk." Bruno ran fingers through his hair, and rubbed his cheek. "I don't want people to hate me. I don't want to be useless."

"Niño, you're not. Nobody hates you." Camilo clambered up to stand on the man's leg and hug his neck, pressing his face into the thick, dark hair. "Your Abuela has… Very high expectations. She doesn't hate you, she just doesn't understand. It isn't what she expected, that's all."

"Does she hate you, too?" Bruno blinked, and swallowed.

"Your Abuela doesn't hate you, Camilo. Neither does your mama, or Julieta. Someone so lovable and cute? How could anyone hate you, niño?"

“You don't hate me?"

"I could never." He ran a hand up and down his back, swaying slightly. "It's late. You should get to bed."

"Can I stay with you?" Bruno frowned. "I've never slept alone before. I'll be scared. Please?"

"Oh, can those eyes get any bigger, niño? Come on." He hoisted the boy over his shoulder, getting giggles. "Do you still want that glass of milk?"

"Mhm! And, I don't know where my clothes are. I want pajamas!" Bruno reached up to tickle his side.

"You are not sleeping in those ceremonial clothes! Those are as old as I am, niño. You find your clothes, and I'll get you some milk. Casita! Help him find his clothes!" The boards shifted under him when he was set down, nudging him toward the backstage.

He curled up to his tio's chest, fingers gently separating his curls and lulling him to sleep. The soft sound of sand shifting and falling was inescapable in the tower, but it was soothing. It was a constant reminder of his tio, of his safety and security, his constant presence and promise of love, even if nobody else offered the same.

Within a few months, that entire image was shattered, disappearing as quick as the dark figure while he scrambled out of his room and called after him.

Chapter Text

“Camilo!” He jolted up at his mama’s voice, blinking hard. Everyone at the table was staring at him, ranging from upset to concerned, and, with a glance at his tio by the head of the table, before he quickly turned back to his food, silently apologetic. He just shook his head slightly, and smiled at his mama.

“Are you feeling unwell, mijo?” He looked towards his tia, frowning and grabbing the back of her chair as if to stand.

“No, gracias, Tia. I’m just tired. Didn’t sleep well last night.” Dolores stared at his, her usual wide-eyed expression putting him a bit on edge. He just focused on his plate again as conversation picked back up. He watched Bruno from the corner of his eye. He rarely actually engaged with the family. Occasionally, he would add something quiet and small to something his sisters were talking about, and the whole table would go silent to hear him, or let out a light chuckle at a story about one of the kids. He would mostly just stare at people, locking eyes with Camilo a few times and immediately averting his gaze as visible panic set in. It was like watching a scared animal.

"Camilo, you and Tio Bruno are going to go help some people out around town today." He choked on his juice, and he saw the man jerk and slap a hand over his mouth as he coughed.

"Pepa! You said you would!" Oh, so his tio didn't want to spend time with him, either. Reassuring.

"Why do I have to? Why can't Mirabel, or Dolores?"

"Camilo, it won't kill you to spend a day with your tio. And it'll do you good to get out of the house, Brunito. Besides, everyone else is busy." Bruno slumped in the chair, shoving another piece of bread into his mouth.

"With what?"

"Luisa is helping the Ruiz's rebuild their house, Isabela and Antonio are helping Pepa and I in the town garden, Julieta and your other tios have work, and Dolores is helping Mirabel shop and redecorate the nursery. You both are free, and you can help the community, too." Camilo felt that jab right in his chest, and nodded. Right, the two most useless family members.

"Si, Abuela, lo lamento. What do we need to do?" He looked at Bruno, still frowning at his plate.

"You're going to help with whatever people need. First, go to the Duran's, they need a few extra hands to take care of the kids while their family is out for the morning. Otherwise, just ask around."

"You're sending me to go babysit someone's kids?" Mirabel and Pepa both barely bit back laughs.

"You'll have Camilo. He likes kids, and he's good with them. You'll be fine." Bruno pouted, but nodded.

"Si, Mama." The man suddenly stood, picking his plate up to set on the counter. Camilo watched a few rats fall from his ruana, and scramble after him and back up his legs. He didn't even seem to notice them. "I'll, ah, well, I'll be in my room. Come get me when you're ready, Camilo." A heavy silence fell over the room as the man slunk away, but Mirabel cleared her throat after a minute and stood.

"Well, ready to go, Dolores? I was thinking about going to see what Signor Velandia has. He just got a whole bunch of new stuff the other day."

Conversation filled the room again, everyone talking about the day ahead, and Camilo took the chance to slip away.

"So… What's with the, uh, y'know… Rats?" Bruno jumped a bit, hugging the rodent to his chest.

"Oh. Well… They kept me company, and brought me the things I needed when it wasn't safe for me to leave." It scampered back over his shoulder, disappearing into the folds of his ruana. "They're… Friends."

"Ah." Well, that was probably the most depressing thing he'd ever heard. "Are they always in there?"

"Not always. Just when I'm upset, usually. They calm me down." Camilo wrinkled his nose, trying to disguise the panic that rose in him.

"Are you upset with me?" Bruno flinched again, eyes wide.

"No! Oh, Camilo, not at all! Why would I be?" He shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"You didn't want to come out here with me." Bruno hesitated, and frowned.

"I— well, I don't want to be out here. It has nothing to do with you." He took a deep breath, twisting the hem of his ruana. "I'd be happy to spend time with you. I just… Know you don't want that, and that's fine. I just don't want to be out around town." Another rat scuttled out onto his shoulder, and he carefully, ever so gently picked it up. "Upset isn't the right word. More… Anxious."

"Yeah, okay." He didn't want to be rude. It's not like his tio had really done anything wrong, not in that moment, anyway. He just bit his cheek. "Just try not to scare the kids."

"I've never been good at that." Camilo jumped at a light elbow so his arm, and the awkward laugh. "You haven't exactly helped. Seven feet tall?" His face flushed, and he consciously sped up.

"You looked a lot bigger when I was little."

Camilo had a baby cradled in one arm, and a toddler in the other, trying to juggle them while also keeping another toddler from eating things off the floor. Bruno was rocking another infant to sleep with a bottle. "So, ah, what is the family doing?" Camilo set the baby on the couch, scooping the other child up and setting him in a high chair.

"Señora Duran is having another baby soon, so her family came to visit to help. They're out of town this morning to go to their doctor. They took all the other kids with them, but these ones are too little to travel that far."

"They're having another one?" Camilo giggled, taking the now sleeping baby and trading it for the other one. Bruno just grabbed another bottle.

"They only have five. He's the youngest of theirs," he nodded to the boy shrieking in the highchair.

"All of the help of doubling the child count in the home when you're about to have a baby," Bruno murmured. Camilo just went to lay the baby down. “It’s almost noon. When are they getting home?” Bruno carefully lifted the boy out of the chair as Camilo came back from putting the second sleeping infant in the crib, and collapsed onto the couch while the two little girls were distracted by stacking blocks, and knocking over stacks of blocks.

“I don’t know, Mama didn’t tell me anything more than you heard. Hopefully soon. I’m hungry.” The little boy almost immediately calmed down when he was rocked and whispered to, and Camilo frowned. He wanted to say his tio was bad with kids. The man was weird, and always carried an anxious energy with him. The guy carried actual, live rats with him in his clothes. He was weird. But Camilo knew better. He knew that Bruno did that exact same thing with him, whenever he got upset. He knew how warm and safe it felt to be wrapped up and cuddled to sleep.

"We'll get you something to eat first thing when we're done, niño, I wouldn't let you starve," he whispered, and something in Camilo's chest clenched at the name. He just nodded slightly and watched the kids play.

Bruno sat next to him on a bench, knees pulled to his chest and carefully cradling a cup of coffee. His eyes darted around the plaza like a scared dog. Camilo just stared at him and shoved another forkful of rice in his mouth. The man didn't even seem to notice him watching.

"You're shaking." Bruno yelped a bit, blinking at him.

"Oh. Sorry." Camilo raised an eyebrow.

"Are… You okay?" The man just hummed, and shrugged. "You really don't like leaving the casita, huh?"

"People don't like me. Which is fine, I get it. I make bad things happen." Camilo shifted, wiping his hands on his pants.

"But… You don't. You just see what's going to happen, right?" Bruno just frowned.

"Yeah, well…" He flicked the rocks off the bench. "The future isn't usually what people want it to be. When bad things happen, people want to blame someone. When someone told them those bad things were going to happen, well… It's not a big deal. I don't really like being around people anyway. Too much noise."

"Dolores says that, too," Camilo said, stabbing a piece of fruit and just staring at it. "I like people, usually. Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one in the family who does."

"There's nothing wrong with that." Bruno visibly hesitated, but eventually, a gentle hand fell onto his knee. He could feel himself go stiff. "You're a very good kid, Camilo. You help people, and people like you. It's good that it doesn't take too much energy to be social."

"Yeah, I know." He sighed softly. Bruno gently pat his leg, before going back to his coffee. The man was still jumpy, and Camilo shifted a bit closer. "We can probably go home. I'm sure Abuela wouldn't mind, if you're uncomfortable. I mean… It's not like either of us are really suited for just wandering around helping people, anyway."

"You can be." He shrugged. "We can go home, if you want. You should probably get some extra sleep."

"Yeah. I couldn't get back to bed last night." Bruno stood suddenly, offering a hand.

"Come on. You should go take a nap." Camilo frowned, but let himself be pulled up.

"I'm not that tired."

"You were falling asleep at breakfast, Camilo.” He pouted, and the hand fell from his arm as he trailed behind his tio. Luisa waved at them as they passed, grinning from behind a pile of stones. Camilo took a moment to spin around and watch her work, while Bruno just continued on, seemingly not noticing his pause.

Her gift was useful. She tossed pallets of rocks and wood around like toys, and set up an entire wall on her own within a few minutes. Even when she was losing her gift, she was so strong. Camilo couldn’t even get to the candle. He loved Mirabel, she was his favourite prima, but even she was more useful than him. She saved their entire family. She brought Bruno home, she broke down Abuela’s perfectionism, she helped build her sisters’ confidence. Camilo couldn’t even face his own tio about being upset with him for something that happened a decade ago.

“What are you two doing back so early?” Tia set her bowl down, frowning. Bruno just nudged Camilo aside and went to hug his sister, burying his face in her shoulder.

“I just got a little stressed,” he whispered, barely loud enough for Camilo to hear barely an arm’s length away. Julieta cooed and ran fingers through his hair.

“That’s alright, I’ll tell Mama you aren’t feeling well, when she gets home. You should go rest. Did you two eat in town?”

“I did, tio didn’t.” Julieta frowned, and Bruno sent him a betrayed look.

“I’m not hungry. I just—”

“Bruno, sit.” Casita shoved the man towards the table, and into a chair. “Do you want some food too, mijo?”

“No, gracias tia.” She got down a bowl, and Bruno pouted.

“Alright. Are you feeling any better than this morning?” Camilo smiled, collapsing into a seat nearby. Even with the heavy presence of his tio sulking over a bowl of ajiaco, his tia’s gentle voice made him feel warm and relaxed.

“I told you, I feel fine. I just couldn’t get back to sleep last night.”

“It’s my fault, I scared him.” Camilo choked, and Julieta put her hands on her hips while another pan heated up.

“Why?”

“It wasn’t on purpose! He just didn’t realize I was there, it was dark. He’s scared of me when we’re in a bright, crowded room.” Bruno didn’t actually seem upset, but Camilo’s face flushed.

“No I’m not!” Both adults just stared at him. Tia’s frown was as worried as ever, but Bruno didn’t have any coherent emotion. Maybe a touch of disbelief, or sadness, but nothing big enough to latch onto. It drove him mad. “I’m not… Why would I be scared? He can barely look someone in the eye, what's he going to do?" "Camilo, please don't be rude to your tio."

"That's not rude, Julieta, it's just true."

"Those are not mutually exclusive, Bruno. Camilo, it's alright to be a little on edge. A lot has happened recently, and he is basically a stranger. But Bruno wouldn't be here if he didn't love you." He frowned, glancing at the man again. He had turned his attention back to his food, but Camilo knew he was paying attention.

"You can't love someone you don't know." Bruno pursed his lips. "And stalking us through the cracks in the walls for a decade doesn't count."

"Camilo!" He yelped at the yell, and the hard swat to the back of his head. He was quickly soaked with rain, and had to cover his ear against the claps of thunder so close to his head. They were roughly pulled away, earning a whimper.

"Pepa, you're going to hurt him."

"Chico, up. Up! You are not going to speak to your tio like that!" He could feel his eyes burn as he was pulled up by his wrist, from both pain and shame.

"Pepa, he's not doing anything, it's fine. We were just talking." Bruno gently grabbed his mama's arm, and was swatted away.

"Living room, Camilo, now." He tried to wrench his arm out of her grip, sputtering apologies, but was all but thrown onto the couch. "Stay. If you move, I'll know. Who taught you to behave like this, hm? It certainly wasn't me!"

"You talked shit about him for years!"

"Language, Camilo! Sit here until you can apologize to your tio! If that's all week, then you stay."

It was quiet. He could almost hear the conversation in the kitchen, could almost hear his mama's harsh tone, and his tio's weak one. His arm stung, and was starting to bloom red, and he just drew his knees to his chest and let himself cry.

––

His mama was always a little scary. Reactive, his tia called her, short tempered. He didn't really know what that meant. He just knew the loud voice, the sharp slaps and angry thundering every time he got in trouble. There were certainties in his life, in that way. He knew that if he got in trouble, he would spend the rest of the day on the living room couch, to "think about what he did." He knew that if he really got in trouble, he'd spend it squirmy and sore from his hips to his knees.

He also knew that, after an hour or so, probably not even that long, even if it felt like days to him, his tio wouldn't let him be alone. He would cuddle up into the man's chest, atone for whatever it was in between hiccups and sobs, and, usually, exhaust himself to sleep with a hand on his back and his face in soft fabric.

And one day, he was really, really bad. He got mad, yelled, broke a plate, and threw an arepas at prima Luisa. It hit Abuela in the arm, and he knew he was in for it.

And he hurt. His mama was even more brutal than normal, and he sobbed into the pillows. He was just sad. He was mean and did a bad thing, and he knew that, but it was just because nobody would listen to him, and it made him sad! He didn't deserve this!

"Camilo?" He sniffled, and didn't even look up before sticking his arms out. His tio gently lifted him up, rocking him in his arms. "Are you alright?"

"Mami's mean."

"She was. Are you alright?" He shrugged, gripping his ruana and sniffling.

"Hurts." His tio hummed, carefully sitting down and holding the boy so he wasn't touching anything.

"She shouldn't have hit you. That was very wrong, niño, and I'll talk to her about it." He murmured his thanks, and snuggled closer. "What upset you?"

"Just wanted to talk. Nobody would let me." Bruno gently rubbed his tummy, still rocking his back and forth. It made him sleepy.

"And that made you angry?"

"Sad."

"It made you sad?" He nodded. "That's alright. But you can't act like that just because you're sad, and you know that, Camilo."

"I know. I'm sorry, tio, I am! I just… I didn't mean to, I really didn't!"

“You need to apologize to your prima and Abuela, not me, Camilo.” He was gently lifted up, legs dangling above the man’s lap as he was hoisted over Bruno’s head. “But, your mama says you have to stay here until you’re ready to do that.”

“I am! I am, I am! Let’s go!” Bruno smiled, and stood, hugging the boy to his chest.

“Alright. Come on, niño.” He clung to his tio’s neck, shoving his face into his hair. It smelled like the river that ran through the encanto, and a sweet soap, and safety.

When he crept down the stairs that night, it was to hushed yelling. He tucked himself around the doorframe, and peeked in. His mama was aggressive in just the way she moved, a cloud thundering over her head.

“I don’t need anyone telling me how to parent my own children. Especially when you don’t even have any.”

“He’s four years old, Pepa. What’s he going to learn by being hit? You never treated Dolores like that.” His mama scrubbed the counter, knuckles white around the sponge.

“It’s not hitting, it’s spanking, and Dolores never behaved like that. Mama spanked us when we were his age.”

“And what did we learn from it? To behave better, or to not let Mama catch us?” She paused for a moment, and huffed.

“I don’t need you telling me how to parent, Bruno.” His tio sighed, and pushed up from the table.

“All you’re going to teach him is to be afraid of you, Pepa. I’m just trying to help.” Camilo tucked himself behind a plant, watching Bruno grab a jar of water.

“I never asked for your help.”

“I’m not trying to help you. We never got a mother that we could trust with anything, and he deserves to have that.” Mama was still huffing and thundering in the kitchen, but when he heard his tio’s footsteps going up the stairs, he bolted out of his hiding spot and threw his arms around the man’s waist. Bruno yelped, and quickly scooped him up as he stumbled down a few steps. “Camilo, that is dangerous!” He grinned, burying his face in his face.

“¡Lo lamento, tio!” Camilo giggled, letting himself be placed on the floor once they reached the balcony. He just attached himself to Bruno’s leg. “Thank you, tio,” he whispered, and got a gentle pat to his hair.

“You shouldn’t eavesdrop, Camilo. And you shouldn’t be out of bed this late. Mirabel is going to be very sad if she wakes up and she’s all alone.” He nodded, and reached up. He was carried again, and allowed to press a kiss to the man’s cheek, rubbing his own against the scratchy stubble.

“I don’t need Mami to be nice. You always are.” Bruno just let out a sigh, and Camilo didn’t understand why it sounded so sad.

Bruno gently pushed open the nursery door, and laid Camilo down in his bed. The blankets were tucked around his shoulders, and a gentle kiss was planted on his forehead.

“Te amo tanto. Duerme bien, bebé.” He nodded slightly, getting another kiss. Bruno poked his nose with another command to sleep, and went to pet Mirabel’s hair, murmuring to her and fixing her blankets while she slept.

“Te quiero más, tio.” He earned a soft smile, and the light flicked off as the door closed.

Chapter Text

He didn’t want to spend time with his tio. He really didn’t. He didn’t want the awkward silence, or the even more awkward attempts at conversation. He definitely didn’t want the memories and reminders about how they used to be so close, and he used to be so happy, and that all of it had disappeared and didn’t show any sign of coming back.

He didn’t understand why the world refused to acknowledge that, as he trudged along beside his tio, watching Antonio frolic around in the bushes and poke at different flowers and trees. Maybe he was just tired, or hungry, or something else that he couldn’t pinpoint, but he was angry. It wasn’t as if he could voice it, not without upsetting or scaring his brother, or at the very least, ruining the mood. Not that the boy seemed to notice the tension following him as he prattled on about the different animals, and all the flora Isabela was teaching him.

“Is this what Tia wanted?” He waved a flower in their direction after plucking it off a tree, and Bruno squeaked.

“No! No, absolutely not, put that down Antonio!” The little boy dropped the flower at his feet, eyes wide as Bruno carefully wiped his hands off on his ruana. “Tonito, this,” he hoisted him up on his hip, pointing to the flowers. “This is a borrachero tree. They’re very dangerous and they will make you very, very sick, so we don’t touch them, alright?”

“What’ll it do?” He seemed content to snuggle up to Bruno’s chest, legs swinging under him as he stared at the pretty flowers. The man frowned.

“It’s, ah…” He sent Camilo a glance, and got a shrug. “It’s a very bad plant that makes people very sick. We're looking for tecoma stans, Tonito. They're yellow bells."

"Those are yellow and bells."

"Well… I suppose they are. Just be careful, stay with your hermano, si?" He was set down, and immediately gripped onto Camilo's ruana hem.

"Si, Tio!" Camilo pat his hair with a smile. The "staying close" only lasted a few seconds, before he saw something else interesting and darted a few feet ahead.

"What does that tree do? You seemed pretty freaked out." Bruno frowned.

"Camilo, I know for a fact we drilled it into your head to stay away from those. I'm surprised Pepa hasn't with him…"

"I mean, I remember the adults talking about it when I was little, but I don't think anyone ever actually told me. I kinda forgot about it. I don't spend a lot of time out here." He flicked a mosquito off his shoulder, pouting. "Bugs."

"There are some really interesting bugs, if you look, though." Camilo groaned. "It's a walk, Camilo, not torture. Look how happy Antonio is."

"Antonio has never been bitten by ants across his entire arm and leg and had to walk for an hour before getting back to Tia Julieta. What does the tree do?" Bruno winced, and Camilo wasn't sure if it was from phantom pain of dozens of tiny little demons with fangs, or his probing for answers.

"It's a drug, Camilo. A very dangerous one." He glanced back at the tree, frowning.

"Like, a get you high kind of drug? I have some friends who—"

"A date rape drug, Camilo, and it's deadly. What do you friends do, exactly? I'm sure Pepa and Felix would be very interested in having that conversation."

“They do good kid stuff, like the good kids that we are. And, that… Doesn’t really happen in the Encanto, though, right? Stuff like— like that?” Bruno gave him a gentle smile, and squeezed his shoulder.

“It’s not something you need to be worried about, niño, no.” He frowned, and turned to face the man, grabbing his ruana.

“Because it doesn’t happen here, right?” His tio was clearly trying to shift away, and it made panic rise in Camilo’s chest.

“It happens everywhere, niño. But it’s not prevalent here, and you shouldn’t worry about it. Lo siento, I shouldn't have said anything, I didn't mean to frighten you.”

"I just… Didn't think that stuff would happen here. With everything…" He shook his head. "What if it— people do that stuff to people with power, right? To get stuff? What if it happens to Dolores, or Isabela, or Mirabel, or— or to…"

"Camilo?" He stared at the man, and barely registered his hands being gripped tight. "Nothing is going to happen to you, or to anyone else."

"Then why would people be growing trees like that?" Bruno smiled.

"It's a tree, Camilo. They just grow here, nobody has put them here. They grow all over Colombia. There's nothing to worry about."

"But what if someone—"

"Tio! Camilo! I think I found them! Come here, come here!" Bruno let out a tiny little laugh, and steered Camilo towards where his brother was jumping up and down and pointing to a tree.

"If something ever happens, if you think something has happened, then tell someone. But it's very unlikely. Don't stress over it." He just nodded slightly, and watched as Bruno scooped Antonio into his arms. "What a good eye! Can you pick some for us? Julieta is going to be so happy with you, Tonito."

"Bruno?" He tilted his head, holding out a basket for Antonio to drop the flowers into. "Promise it's not something to worry about? Because now I'm worried about it."

"What's going on?" Bruno sighed, and smiled.

"Nothing. Go on now, let's get back and get these things to your tia. Camilo, in a bit, si?"

"As long as you promise you will talk about it, and not just ignore me when we get back." Bruno gently, hesitantly pat his arm, and pulled him along.

"I would never, Camilo. There's nothing wrong with having worries, or asking questions." He took a deep breath.

"Mami does that a lot. Say we'll talk about things later, and then ignore me until I shut up about it." Antonio frowned from his perch on Bruno's arm, and hid his face in the man's shoulder.

"That's mean."

"That is mean, isn't it, Tonito?"

"But… But Mami isn't mean. So why would Mami be mean to Milo?" Camilo smiled, and gently pinched Antonio's foot, getting a squeal and a fit of giggles.

"Toni? Do your hermano favorito a huge favor, and let's keep this all a secret, si? No telling mami, or papi, not even Didi. ¿Entiéndeme?"

"Si! I can do that! I'm good at keeping secrets!" He grinned, but it quickly fell into a confused frown. "Wait, but you're my only—"

"Tia Julieta! We got your flowers!" Camilo burst through the front door, and peeked into the kitchen. "Tia?"

"Did she already go to town?" Bruno set Antonio down, and he immediately ran into the kitchen with the basket.

"I didn't think she was today, I thought she said she was just going to stay here." Bruno hummed, and lifted the little boy up to set the basket on the counter.

"She might have gotten called out for something. I'm sure she'll be back soon."

"But then they won't be as fresh…" Camilo gently rubbed one of the flowers, frowning. He could hear Bruno's little laugh.

"It'll be fine, niño. They'll work just the same." He sighed, but nodded. "If she needs some fresh, we can go get more. It'll be alright."

"I just don't want Tia to be upset," he whispered. He could hear Antonio scampering up the stairs, and Bruno gently squeezed his shoulder.

"Julieta would never be upset with you for something out of your control, niño. Especially when it's not even a real issue." He just frowned deeper. He could see Bruno’s hand twisting in his ruana for a minute, before twitching up, but he still flinched when it landed on his cheek and turned his head away from the plants. “They’re flowers, Camilo. They’re going to wilt, and a million more will grow. If Julieta needs more, there are plenty more to get, and if you don’t want to go get more, you don’t have to.”

“It’s not… About the flowers.” Bruno’s hand was warm on his cheek, but he didn’t want it to move. He gently gripped his ruana, tracing out the embroidery in the deep green wool. It was soft, softer than his own. It was the same pattern as the ones he wore in pictures that were way older than Camilo was, maybe even the same one, with how torn and threadbare it was. He would have to ask his mama or tia.

“What is it about?” The man’s hand had a distinct tremor, and his eyes (the same muddled green as his own, but without the brown ring, he noted,) darted between Camilo’s hand, his face, the basket behind him. He never focused on one spot for more than a moment. Anxious, scared. It almost helped to calm him down, knowing that he wasn't the only one, if it didn't spike his fear even more. He didn't have much real reason to be afraid of his tio, he'd admit that, but Bruno has absolutely no reason to be afraid of him, right? "Sobrino?"

"It's nothing." He brushed his hand away, shaking his head. "You're right, they're just flowers, it'll be fine. Is there anything else we need to do?"

"Ah, no, I don't— I don't know, I don't think so."

“Great. I’ll be in my room.” He skirted around the man, taking long, deep breaths to try to calm his heart. He just had to get away, get upstairs, and he'd be fine.

“Camilo?” He glanced over his shoulder, blinking. “Are— ah, do you want to… Talk? About the— the tree thing. I don’t— you don’t have to, but if you want, I said I would.” He let out a breath, staring at the ground. He had forgotten that, as even more worries swirled through his head. Now, with the reminder, he felt even more sick and lightheaded. “Camilo, sobrino?”

“I don’t feel good.” Bruno frowned, hands twitching forward as if to grab him.

“You should— Camilo, go lay down. I’ll bring you something to eat, go rest.”

“Not that… Not the kind of sick that Tia could help.” His tio looked panicked, gently gripping his shoulders and pushing him into a chair that Casita shoved towards them.

“Camilo, what’s going on? Are you alright?”

“I don’t know.” Bruno pressed a wrist to his forehead, and Casita filled a glass of water and settled it on the table behind him.

“Did you catch something?”

“I don’t know.” He felt like he couldn't breathe, like his throat was closing up and his head was throbbing, and he grabbed his tio's wrist as tight as he could. It earned a wince, but the warm skin under his hand at least let him know that the room wasn't actually spinning.

"Camilo, Camilo, it's alright. Estás entrando en pánico. You need to breathe." Camilo squeezed his eyes shut, and just tried to focus on Bruno’s hand and voice. The man eventually pulled him close, running fingers through his hair and rubbing his back in a way that made him feel like a toddler again, running away from his mama or Abuela in his tio’s arms, or falling asleep to his soft murmurs or lullabies, or hiding from his sister and primas and unable to hold back his giggles.

“Can’t breathe.”

“Yes you can. You need to focus.” His entire body tingled with the tell-tale feeling of him shifting, but he wasn’t actually sure what was going on, and Bruno made no mention of it, just held him and whispered to him.

Bruno wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, brewed a hot cup of a spicy tea with an obscene amount of sugar, and sat on the floor in front of him. He fiddled with his ruana, and his hair, and picked at the cracks between the bricks in the casa's floor. Camilo just sniffled and stared, letting himself relax and start to slowly come to terms with, as Bruno put it, "a worse panic attack than even I'm used to having, niño."

"Your hair isn't curly." Bruno blinked, and finally looked up, slowly pulling his fingers out of said hair.

"Ah… Not— not really. Not after I brush it, at least." He took a long drink of his tea, letting it burn his tongue.

"Neither is Tia's, and I don't think Abuelo's was, either. Abuela's isn't, is it? So, why are ours?" Bruno tilted his head, pulling on loose threads of his ruana.

"Camilo, niño, you and your father and your siblings aren't the same race as the rest of the family." He wrinkled his nose.

"No, obviously, that's not— like, Mami. Her hair is curly. Not as much as ours, but way more than you and tia, and the girls." He frowned, gripping his tea. "And, she's way paler, too, and has light hair. But… You're triplets, right? So it's not like she has a… Can you have triplets with different—"

"No, Camilo, your mother isn't an affair baby." He blinked, and snorted, and eventually dissolved into a fit of giggles. Casita stacked tiles under his tea cup. He heard Bruno let out a thin little laugh.

“Luisa is pretty pale too, I guess, and Isabela has way darker skin than anyone in that side of the family.”

“It’s just genetics. I’m sure if you look back far enough, you’d find someone who looks exactly like Pepa, and someone in our family or Agustin’s that has darker skin like Isabela.” Camilo smiled. Nobody ever answered his questions about the family. His sister and primas, even Papa and Tio Agustin didn’t know much more than he ever did, and his mama and Abuela were terrifying, and would get angry if he asked anything. He always felt bad asking his tia about it, and she tended to be evasive anyways.

“Do you know anything about Abuelo?” Bruno’s little smile fell, and a spike of regret immediately stuck in his chest. Right, it may have been his abuelo that he had never been able to meet, but it was his tio’s father. He couldn’t imagine growing up without his papa.

“Not much. It was… Never really brought up, past the story about the miracle.” He let out a soft breath, and the smile came back. “There’s nothing wrong with being curious about your family, Camilo.”

"It upsets people. Abuela, and Mami, they always get mad."

"It's a… A raw nerve. But it's your family too, and you have every right to know about it." He nodded, and smiled.

"Thanks, Tio Bruno." He took a long drink, and set the cup down. "I think… I'm still pretty woozy, I think I'm going to lay down. Thanks for helping me out."

"Oh! Right, of course, no problem. Ah, do you— ah… Let me know if you need anything, Camilo. Anything."

"Will do. Thanks. Oh, and, Bruno?" He leaned against the stair railing, more to steady himself than anything. The man just tilted his head. "Can you… Could this whole thing just stay between us? Y'know the… Panic attack thing. I don't really want anyone knowing it happens."

"Ah… Is that a common thing, Camilo?" He shrugged.

"Not really. Maybe. I guess, I don't know what's a normal amount for people to have."

"None, would be the normal amount." Camilo hummed, puffing out his cheeks in a pout. "I won't tell anyone, Camilo. I promise. Just stay safe, alright?"

"I always do. Thanks. Really, thanks." Maybe he wasn't completely awful.

––

His life had shattered that night. There was a Before, and an After. Before, he felt safe, sure, confident that everything would work out. After, he was hesitant to do so much as speak, in fear that it would cause something else to fall out of place. Before, his family was vibrant and chatty and loving. After, everything felt dark and cold. Before, he truly did believe that himself, people, the world were capable of giving love, and of being loved, that it was a right, that it was something everyone had and everyone deserved. Something that he deserved. After, he knew better.

The night itself was the worst. He didn't sleep. He spent the whole night on that balcony, desperately clutching his blanket and his chest as he couldn't find his breath. His tio had looked scary. He never thought his tio could be scary. He was quiet, gentle, and loving. He was the contrast to his mama and Abuela's loud and rough and demanding. But then, in the dark, cold hallway, when eyes flashed with anger and sadness and something he couldn't place at his young age, something he later recognized as fear, he was scary.

When he raised his voice for the first time Camilo had ever heard. Not the hushed anger and disappointment he sometimes heard when Tio Bruno was talking to his mama, or the low, scolding tone when he or one of the girls did something dangerous and were put in time out. No, he yelled at Camilo. Yelled at him to be quiet, to not ask questions, to go back to bed.

When his hand hit the wall beside him, knuckles white in a fist and chest heaving. The force knocked a picture down. A family picture. Abuela was sitting in the front. Tia and Tio Augustin were holding Luisa between them, who was in turn holding her older sister aloft. Dolores was sprawled with their mama's arms around her middle, and her legs thrown over their papa's as he suddenly swept them off the ground. And Camilo, mid-yawn and clutching his blanket and a sippy cup, was cradled in his tio's arm, with Mirabel completely asleep in the other. Happy, smiling, laughing. He remembered it taking almost two hours, an hour past his and Mirabel's nap time, between getting ready, and getting a picture Abuela deemed "suitable and presentable." In the end, the decision was made to hang up the first one, and he stared at it in paralyzed fear as it was shattered on the tiles.

When he spoke, a venom in his voice that Camilo couldn't place, but knew was directed at someone. He was the only one there, so logically, it was directed at him. He stumbled back from it, from his tio, tripping in his panic and falling back. His tailbone ached, his hands burned from where they scraped the floor, and everything felt like it was closing in around him. He couldn't breathe, couldn't hear past the ringing in his ears, and couldn't move as his tio's face fell, as he took a step forward and reached out a hand, before jolting to look at something behind him.

He turned on his heel, left Camilo shaking and crying and scared, and then, it was After.

His tia found him first, dropping the pile of sheets and rushing over to him, yelling for his parents and Abuela. He cuddled up in her warm arms, breathed in the soft smell of spices and flowers, and sobbed. The shoulder of her morning gown was getting soaked, but she didn't move until his mama picked him up and shushed him. It wasn't unusual for Bruno to miss breakfast, ("I would too, if I had to go up and down half of those stairs every day," the adults would say in joking voices tinted with just the slightest bit of sadness,) and it wasn't until almost midday when he was coherent enough to talk, to tell them what happened.

He was surprised how quickly it went from "We need to find Bruno," to "We don't talk about Bruno." From his mama assuring him it would be alright, he would come home, to her telling him that it was better, that they were safer now. With the chaos already being caused by Mirabel's gift ceremony, it was easy enough to sweep it under the rug, to lay blame.

A chair was pulled away from the table, put into storage. The plate engraved with his name disappeared from the cabinet. His door was dark, and after a while, for a few years, sealed with nails and boards. New family photos were taken, tapestries were rewoven with him faded into the back, or not included at all. Camilo watched as every hint of his tio was slowly stripped away, leaving nothing but vague memories and horror stories. Any mention was quickly shut down, any reference drew glares. Occasionally, he'd stand by the mural in town, stare at it, just to remember.

He remembered the warmth of his hugs, soured by the chill of the night air. He remembered the soft voice lulling him to sleep, overwhelmed by the thick, cracking yell. Hands gently brushing unruly curls when his mama had given up turned to shaking fists and shattering glass. A face that used to reassure and calm him after his nightmares became the one at the center of them.

After, he knew they were better off without vergüenzas in the Madrigals, and he knew that he had to make sure he didn't become one, too.

Chapter Text

"So, Tia, I was wondering." His spun on his heel, grappling for the coffee can. The woman just raised an eyebrow, and steadied him before he fell from his twirling.

"Yes, Camilo? Here to tell me more town gossip?" He giggled, stealing a chunk of dough from her bowl, and pulling as face. "That's just corn meal and oil, querido."

"Yeah, noted. Bleh. Anyways, not today, actually. I need to go harass Dolores for more. But! I have a question I wanted to ask." The kettle screamed at him, and he poured himself a cup, only burning his hand a little bit, and being greeted by another piece of gross, sticky paste being shoved in his mouth. It did the job, though.

"Of course, what is it?" He fell backwards, a chair being propped under him.

"Why is Bruno's tower off limits?"

He barely caught the way her hands stilled in the bowl, and the hitch in her breath. He definitely caught the long sigh. She plopped a disk of dough onto the counter, and glanced back at him.

"Well, that depends on when we're talking about. Right now? Because it's his private space, and he hasn't invited you into it. Same reason why he doesn't go into yours, or you don't go into anyone else's without permission."

"I go into Antonio's room without permission all the time. He's always happy about it." Julieta chuckled, and the pan sizzled.

"Antonio loves you a lot, and he's also five years old and hasn't developed a concept of personal space yet. I'm sure once he's older, he'll kick you out of his room, too."

"But his room is so cool! I think Antonio shouldn't be allowed to get older." His coffee was way too strong for his liking, and too hot, but he still drank it as fast as he could.

"Well, I'm sure your mama will agree with that. Antonio might not, though, you'll have to take it up with him."

"Oh, how could anyone ever resist me? What about before?" She hummed, glancing over her shoulder. "Bruno's tower. Before he came back. It was boarded up for a while, and even after, we weren't ever allowed to even think about going in, remember?"

"Ah…" She scooped the arepas onto a cooling rack, frowning. "It's… Dangerous, Camilo."

"I mean, Antonio's room is a literal jungle with its own ecosystem, and mine has catwalks and ropes and cords everywhere to get to anything, and Isabel's is completely covered wall to wall in stabby, bitey plants. I don't think any of our rooms are particularly safe." He expected more than just a sad smile.

"It's not just his room itself. Although that is also dangerous, with all the stairs, and the sand, and pieces breaking under your feet, it's also… Bruno keeps all of his visions. He always has. They're all up there. It could be very dangerous if someone saw the wrong one." He shifted forward, frowning. It got another sigh. "People don't usually like the future, Camilo. Bruno knows that, more than anyone. He has had some awful visions over the years. What would you do, if you knew the exact moment and cause of your loved one's deaths, or your own, or you saw someone being hurt, abused, and you knew that, no matter what you did, what precautions you took, you couldn't change it?"

"That would drive someone insane." She offered a knowing hum, and it hit him what he said. "He… Doesn't know that stuff about the family, right?"

"I don't know, Camilo. He could, if he wanted to. I don't know if he has or not. But, I know he's done at least one vision for all of you kids. Except maybe Antonio, but I wouldn't be surprised if he has."

"Like, about our deaths?"

"Like about your lives. Isabela is going to have a good life, Dolores would have a messy love life, you're…" She shrugged, smiling.

"I'm what? Wait, what did he see about me? He told Isabela and Dolores, why wouldn't he have told me?" Julieta shook her head, taking his coffee cup to put in the sink.

"You weren't old enough. He doesn't tell anyone until they're eight years old, you were only five when he left."

"But you won't tell me, either." She laughed, but Camilo knew his family better than anyone, and he knew it was sad and strained.

"It's not my place. You're old enough, you can ask him. He may even do a new one for you, since it's been so long. I don't know." He bolted out of the chair, stealing an arepa on his way by. Julieta grabbed his wrist.

"Oh, come on, it's just one—"

"Camilo, if Bruno says no, don't push." She gently took it from his hand, grabbing a tub beside her. "The future isn't something we're meant to know. He knows better than you if something is safe to be seen or not. If he doesn't want to show you, then take that answer. It doesn't necessarily mean that it's bad, it just means that it's not something you're ready to know about." She smiled, and shoved the freshly buttered arepa in his mouth. "And don't harass your tio. He's sensitive."

"Have I ever told you that you're my favourite tia?" She snorted, and gently pinched his cheek.

"Never enough, sobrino. Go on. Behave!"

"Me? Misbehaving? Oh, Tia, what do you take me for? ¡Gracias por la comida!"

Now, he just had to find Bruno. Which turned out to be a much harder task than he anticipated. He was not climbing all of those stairs, but he did stand on the ground and yell up to him. He didn't hear any response. The man wasn't in the house, or the garden, and when he asked around town, nobody had seen him that day. Maybe he was in his tower, and just didn’t hear Camilo, or chose to ignore him. He wasn’t the type to ignore them, though, he was always eager to help them with anything they needed, or wanted. Maybe he was busy?

After an hour or so, he collapsed on the bridge wall. He sighed. Maybe his tio was avoiding him? They weren’t close, and he wasn’t always exactly nice to the man. But he has been nicer recently! Their last few interactions had been relatively normal, comforting, even. Ever since Bruno had helped him get through that panic, and actually helped, he had been a lot more open with the man. Maybe he had overheard his conversation with Julieta, and didn’t want to talk to him about it?

“Camilo?” He jumped. “Are you okay? What are you doing all the way out here? Did you get hurt?” Isabela hooked a finger under his chin, scanning his face. His prima’s hands were warm, and caked with dirt, rubbing it on his cheeks.

“No. Nope, I was just wandering, got tired.” She frowned, her brows furrowing. Camilo just jumped to his feet. “Seriously. I’ve been looking for Bruno, I wanted to ask him something. I’ve been all over town and I still can’t find him!”

“Oh, he’s been with me and Mirabel,” she giggled, grabbing his hand, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “We’ve been helping with something, but we can’t say because it’s a surprise for Dolores.”

“Oh?” He perked up, letting himself be led into the trees.

“I was on my way home to grab some more things, but come on, you can help, too. As long as you can keep a secret!”

“Isabela, do you know me? I’m a man of mystery! I reveal nothing to anyone!” She rolled her eyes, but the grin was still playful. It was amazing to him, the complete turn around of her attitude after the magic fell. As she had put it while caking his face in colourful makeup and drinking a little too much liquor, “once I stopped caring about how people see me, I’ve been way better at seeing people.” He was just happy to have someone to dote on him and treat him like the older sister that Dolores was sometimes too goody-goody or too busy to do. Maybe he was just happy that his family was finally coming back together. Or, just coming together in the first place?

“Ah, Camilo! Good morning!” Mirabel grinned at him, popping up from her spot kneeling on the ground. Her skirt was caked with mud and grass stains, but it was an older one, without all of her delicate embroidery. Isabela was in what he was pretty sure was his Tio Agustin’s pants. Mariano was pacing back and forth beside a beautiful stream, muttering to himself and to a pot of young, barely blooming hibiscus. Ah, so it was that kind of surprise.

Bruno didn’t seem to be helping much, considering he was asleep against a tree. Mariano’s coat was draped over him like a blanket, and he didn’t so much as twitch when footsteps were mere centimeters from him. Camilo almost smiled. His mama complained about her back hurting whenever she slept on the couch. He couldn’t imagine how much whining Bruno would do.

“We can talk pretty freely here. Luisa and mama are keeping Dolores at the casita, and we’re too far away for her to hear unless we yell.”

“Too far away? Do you think it's too far away? What if she doesn’t like being so far from the Casa Madrigal? What if she feels unsafe?” Isabela let out a long-suffering sigh, and finally let go of Camilo’s hand, going to pat Mariano’s arm.

“What are you doing here? I don’t think we really need more help, do we, Isa? Not that we wouldn't be thrilled to have your help, I mean, we're already two down.”

“He was looking for Tio Bruno. I haven’t made it back to the casita yet.” Mirabel hummed, and brushed off her skirt, only succeeding in smearing it around and getting more on her hands.

“What do you need, niño?” He saw everyone in the clearing jump, and turned towards where Bruno was slowly pushing himself up, wincing.

“Tio, I thought you were asleep! You’re just trying to get out of helping!” Mirabel grabbed the man’s arm, shaking it slightly. He let out a little laugh.

“I— I was! I just heard my name.” His primas didn’t look convinced, but both brushed it off to go back about their business. Bruno shook some dirt off of his ruana, before expectant eyes turned to Camilo.

“Ah, it’s nothing really… Not time sensitive, I just wanted to ask about something Tia had mentioned. You can finish up here.” Bruno blinked slowly, and handed Mariano’s coat back, before grabbing Camilo’s arm. It got a yelp, and he could hear his cousins' giggles as he was pulled out of the clearing.

“What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

“Why does everyone always assume I’m lying when I say I’m fine?” Bruno frowned, but let go of him.

“Sorry, sorry. I just…” His hands balled in and out of fists on the fabric of his ruana, and he took a few long, steadying breaths, “I just assumed the worst. Sorry.”

“O— oh.” He wasn’t quite sure what that meant. Something to do with a vision, maybe? It didn’t sound good, if so. “No, I’m fine. But, I was talking to Tia Julieta earlier, about you.” Bruno winced.

“Well, I suppose Julieta is better than Pepa,” he murmured, and shook his head. “About what?”

“Your visions. I wanted to ask if you could do one for me, if you’ve got the free time.” Bruno froze, one foot on the bridge, and a thick silence fell over them.

“Why?” It was odd to hear him sound so firm. He could barely hold a conversation most days, and even then, it was with weak, trailing whispers, and broken with awkward stuttering.

“Nothing, really,” he tried for a laugh, even as his tio’s eyes were hard with shielded emotion, and fixed on him, “Fun, I guess.”

“Camilo, they’re not for fun. They’re not enjoyable, for anyone involved. I don’t just do them for party tricks.”

“Seemed fun for Isabela,” he grumbled, but otherwise just shook his head. “Not fun. Interest, maybe? Curiosity? Tia… she said you did them for all of us, when we were little, but she said I’d have to ask you if I wanted to know what it was. It… Kind of sounded a little bad.”

“It— it was… It’s a long— well, not really, but—” Bruno sputtered for a few moments, before sighing. “It wasn’t bad, not really. A little… Unexpected, that’s all.” Camilo stared at him, but he refused to look up from the ground, still gripping and twisting his clothes. “I don’t like—” his voice broke over the word, and he swallowed. “I don’t like doing visions, Camilo. Especially not for family, not for you kids. It’s too… It— it’s too…”

“Risky? That you’ll see something bad?” He nodded slowly,

“After Mirabel…” Camilo would never forget the vision sliding across the table, the image of his home, his family, all shattering to pieces around him.

“What about before that? Isabela’s was good, and Dolores’ wasn’t really— I mean, it worked out in the end. What about mine and Luisa’s? Were they bad, like Mirabel's?” Bruno's eyes flickered around them, like he was looking for anyone listening in, or for any way to physically escape this conversation.

"Mira— Mirabel's wasn't bad. It was undecided. It depended on what she did, how it turned out. And— and like you said, it worked out in the end. Luisa’s was fine, good, it— it was…"

"What about mine?" Bruno frowned. "Bruno, what about mine?"

"I just worry about you, niño," he finally whispered. "About… You."

"I don't understand." Bruno nodded slightly, perking up. Camilo recognized it as when he found the right word to voice something, which seemed to take several tries most days.

"A lot— a lot of people don't understand a lot of things, Camilo. I don't… Understand a lot of things. But people not understanding doesn't mean it's wrong, and it doesn't mean that people don't love you."

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about." He sighed, but nodded again.

"I just want you to know that, whatever happens, your family loves you, and I love you, and nothing can change that. And that I know what it's like to be… Different, from other people, inside," the man gently, almost unconsciously tapped his chest. "And that if you need to talk about anything, I might not understand, but I will listen, and I won't judge."

"Am I gonna, like, kill someone?"

"What?" Bruno's head shot, up expression shifting from his distant, sad one, to just shock. "No! I mean, I don't— I didn't see at least— no! No, you're not going to kill someone, Camilo."

"Well, you're not making any sense! What do you mean? What's going to happen?" Bruno sighed, and looked back.

"Look, the flowers are supposed to all be planted by noon, and Mariano is already panicking, so the girls need all the help they can get. If you… If you're really sure, if you really want a vision, then I guess I can, but I have rules that you need to follow, no exceptions."

"Of course. Whatever I need to do." He glanced back again, and sighed.

"Tonight, after cena. I'll come find you when I'm ready." Camilo grinned, and nodded. "Now, go home! I'm sure there are plenty of things you need to do. It's the end of the week, I know you've put off all your chores."

"You won't do visions for fun, but you'll do them to spy on my chores! That's not fair, Bruno!" The man gently flicked his arm, smiling.

"That's not a prophecy, that's just observation. Go on. I'll meet you later." He grabbed Bruno's wrist before he completely turned, getting a worried glance.

"Thank you." Bruno smiled.

Camilo stared at the mirrors around him, shivery and stressed. He used to do this to practice his gift. It took a long time to have control. Now, with a little focus, he could make the most minute details shift into something, someone else. He had yet to learn how to change just his clothes, but his nails? Luisa's were so pretty last week, long for her, and shimmery blue to match her skirt. Dolores' hair when down was similar enough to his own, but fell several inches longer even with the curls. Isabela's makeup was always immaculate, and her skin was so smooth. It was a little darker and cooler than his own, but he'd make due.

"Different from other people, inside." He tapped his chest, just like his tio had, feeling it a bit softer than usual, his ruana a bit tighter, and falling loose around his shoulders. Different…

––

It wasn't something Camilo thought about often. He was so young, after all, barely out of his age being counted in months. But sometimes, he would remember. Remember the hushed voices and laughs after the parents and older kids had left for a local celebration, long after he was meant to be in bed, and Bruno was meant to be babysitting.

He'd remember peeking out from the wall into the living room, seeing his tio smiling bigger than he ever had in Camilo's life, leaning against a wall and panting. There was a ball of fabric in his hands, a ruana, bright red, not from anyone in their family.

There was a laugh, deep and booming, and it made his tio giggle along with it. He looked so happy. Tio Bruno was all anxious grimaces and awkward stutters with everyone outside of the family, he never looked that happy.

But that night, believing they were alone, he looked so happy. He was wrapped up in the large man's arms, talking in whispers and laughing at bad jokes, touching in ways Camilo didn't understand, but was mesmerized by. It was like how his mama and papa touched, how Tia and Tio Agustin would whisper and giggle at the table, faces flushing red as they landed light slaps and sent glances he didn't understand towards Abuela and the other adults.

Camilo watched as his tio tilted his head back against the man's chest, smiling, reaching up to cup his cheek. He heard the latch on the front door click open. He saw the man lean down with a grin, and heard footsteps on the tiles. He saw the fabric of a dark pink dress round the corner, and heard the choked yell.

"Bruno! En el nombre de Dios, ¿qué crees que estás haciendo?" He heard his mama and tia's gasps, and his Abuela continued yelling, and quickly retreated back to the nursery.

He didn't see his tio for two weeks. The adults refused to mention him, but he would sometimes hear him stumbling down the stairs at night. He never saw the large man again. He never saw that look on his tio's face again. He never really understood why, not until he was much, much older. Even then, he had to wonder, why?

Chapter Text

“Alright, sit.” He plopped down on the ground, watching his tio pace round in the clearing before sitting across from him. The rest of the family were already told to stay inside, and most of the townsfolk were more than aware to stay away from the casita when the winds started swirling.

“Rules?” Bruno took a breath.

“Rules. Okay.” Camilo shuffled forward. “First, what happens is out of my control. I see the future, I don’t cause it. Anything that happens and anything it makes you do is not on me.”

“Obviously. Well, I guess that’s not so obvious, with the whole…” Bruno frowned, and Camilo opted to shut his mouth.

“Don’t let go of me. No matter what happens, you need to hold on, or you could get hurt. If you get dizzy, or nauseous, or anything that you aren’t feeling right now, tell me immediately, and close your eyes. If I tell you to do something, do it, don’t argue with me. And, if I decide to stop, or to not show you in the end, you need to listen to me, Camilo.”

“What? Why wouldn’t you let me see? Isn’t that the whole point?” Bruno sighed.

“Camilo, if something bad happens, I can’t tell you. I care about you far too much to tell you something like that. And, if there’s a major life event, like who you're going to marry or how old you’ll be, anything like that, I won’t tell you.”

“Why not? The— the second one. The other one is kind of obvious, I guess.” Bruno pursed his lips.

“I made that mistake with Dolores, telling her about Mariano when she was so young. It kept her from living her life like a normal girl, going out and experiencing the things she should have. You’re a very lovely boy, and you’re sure to have a very exciting life ahead of you. I don’t want to tell you anything that could stifle that.” Camilo could remember how upset Dolores was when Isabela and Mariano first got together, even if she tried not to show it, and nodded. “Do you understand the rules?”

“Yup, understand.” Bruno sighed, and took a match out of his ruana. “So, what’s with the leaves and stuff? Does it, like, help the magic? I thought that was all internal, or whatever.”

“They help me focus, which is really important to keep everything safe. It also sets up a ritual I need to do each time before I do a vision. It keeps them in control, keeps them from happening on their own.” Bruno closed his eyes, mumbling to himself.

“They can happen out of your control?” He took his tio’s hands when he reached out.

“They haven’t in a very long time, thankfully. Take a deep breath, hold on. It’s going to get windy.”

He was mesmerized by the sand, watching it shift and rise, dome over them, swirl with a bright, fluorescent green light. He gripped his tio's hands tighter. There were shapes, some vaguely human, shifting and moving and breaking apart. It made his head spin.

"Doing okay?" He nodded, watching as the shapes lasted longer, became clearer. Bruno glanced around him, his eyes that glowing green that Camilo remembered always unnerving him as a little boy. “Close your eyes.”

“What? Things are about to—”

“Camilo, do not argue with me.” Camilo snapped his eyes shut, gripping Bruno’s hands. He could hear the sand around his head, and felt his hair whipping around his face.

“Tio? What’s going on?” Bruno shushed him, rubbing his thumbs over the back of his hands.

“It’s fine. I just want to see what’s happening before you do, just to be sure.”

“Promise?” Bruno hummed softly.

“I’ve got you, Camilo. I won't let you get hurt.” He shuffled closer, but felt the heat of the fires against his legs, and squeaked. “Okay. Alright, Camilo, you can look.”

“What’s going on?” Bruno helped him to stand, and turned him around.

“That’s for you to interpret, niño. I don’t want to give you any ideas that aren’t your own.” He blinked, grabbing his tio’s hand on his shoulder, staring at the shifting shapes. “It’s the same as I saw last time.”

“Make it stop.” Bruno flinched at his tone, but after a moment, the sand started falling around them.

“Cover your eyes.” He did, and heard the sound of the sand hitting glass. “Ah, you can keep this, if you—” Camilo took the plate, and threw it against the ground, feeling himself shake as it didn’t shatter. Just the image of himself staring back at him, and after a long minute, Bruno’s hand on his shoulder.

“Destroy it. Please, you can’t let anyone—”

“I don’t let anyone see them anyways, but I can break it if you want.” Bruno tucked it away in his ruana, and grabbed his shoulders again. “Camilo, breathe.”

“You have no fucking right to know about that.” Bruno winced, and quickly moved away.

“I— I know, Camilo, I’m sorry, I can’t—”

“Are you going to tell anyone?” He almost choked, remembering how his tia reacted. Bitter bile rose in his throat. “Have you told anyone?”

“No! No, absolutely not. I’m sure people just assumed it was a bad vision, but I never told. I never do, if people talk about it, it’s because someone else told them, I would never— especially not to you, not with something like this.” He smiled slightly, but it was still uneasy. “You— you can trust me, Camilo, I promise.”

“That’s what you meant. When you were talking about— you meant me being—” He stumbled back. His stomach turned. He knew, knew that Camilo wasn’t what he said, knew that he had thoughts he knew he shouldn’t. “Nobody’s supposed to know.”

“Camilo, it’s alright.” He shook his head, gripping his ruana.

“No. No, you don’t understand. Nobody is— nobody can know. Nobody, Tio Bruno, please.” The man took a step forward, and Camilo yelped when his wrist was caught in a gentle grip. “No, wait, I’m sorry—”

“Camilo, niño, I’m not going to hurt you.” His tio sounded entirely heartbroken, and pulled him closer. He could feel the vision plate against his side, but he just grabbed at the man’s clothes and tried to calm down his shaking.

“When…” He swallowed, and Bruno gently rubbed his back. “When I was little, after you left, there was someone… Like that. A boy, but not a boy,” he kept his voice as low as possible. He didn’t want anyone to overhear. If his mama, if Abuela overheard… He wasn’t even sure if he wanted Bruno to hear him. “I saw what people did to him. Them, her, I don’t know. I don’t… Tio, I don’t want people to hurt me.”

“Nobody is going to hurt you, niño. We would never let that happen.” Bruno pushed him back, pushing his hair out of his face where it stuck to his cheeks.

“Abuela…”

“She wouldn’t dare.” His voice dropped even quieter. Quiet enough that, even if she wasn’t so far away, he wasn’t sure if Dolores would even be able to hear him.

“Like she doesn’t dare hurt you?” Bruno just frowned, and then it turned to horror.

“C— Camilo, you should not know—”

“Yeah, case in point.” He tapped on the glass, muffled by fabric, but still audible.

“That’s… That’s different, Camilo. And Mama has never hurt me over it. She gets— she just gets upset, if it comes up. She would never hurt someone for anything like that.”

"So how would she act with that? If I— It's not something I'd be able to hide, or just not talk about like you can." Bruno shrugged.

"Then, she'll just have to learn to live with it, I suppose." He gripped Bruno's arms, still feeling hot tears on his cheeks.

"I can't tell anyone. Not… Not yet, at least. I just can't, Tio."

"That's fine. It's something you need to do in your own time, and I won’t interfere with that. Until then, you can always talk to— Dolores!" Camilo squeaked at the yelp, and felt all the colour drain from his face.

"Oh, no, no. Continue, you two are having a very good talk, don't let me bother you." Camilo decided he was ready to die.

––

Until Antonio, he was the only boy in the Madrigals. Sure, there were men, but the girls didn't want to try and drag their papas and their tios into their antics, even if they would almost always agree in the end. Plus, he could look like anyone, have any features he wanted.

So, it was Camilo's job to sit still while they covered him in different powders and creams, or knotted up his hair, or filled it with colourful pigments that would sometimes take days to fully wash out. Most of those days were spent complaining about things that only his papa and Dolores even understood. He wasn't supposed to wash his hair that often, no matter how much Abuela complained about it being half pink. It would damage it, dry it out. His papa and sister always jumped in to confirm. He always caved pretty quickly, but then his Abuela would complain about his hair being wet at the lunch or dinner table, even if it was hours earlier, and he could never win, could he?

Eventually, they learned to keep it to the girls' rooms, or only when Abuela was out. They tried to make sure it could always wash off quickly, and when it didn't, there were days he completely exhausted himself keeping the little things shifted just enough to look normal.

But, sometimes, things weren't planned. And, sometimes, Isabela and Luisa were chatting away with Camilo on the living room floor, deciding what shade of yellow eyeshadow would go best with the brown eyeliner and lipstick, fully expecting all of the adults except Tio Agustin to be gone until that night.

Just when he was having his nails delicately painted bright red with little flowers, there were footsteps that were way too heavy to be either of the other kids, and the entire room froze. Eyes turned to the door, and to his mama and Abuela standing in it.

"Camilo? What are you doing?" Isabela and Luisa shared a look, and both shied away from him. Abuela was mad. "Camilo, we have talked about this."

"Mama, can we do this after I'm done pushing out a baby?" His mother tugged her sleeve, desperately cradling her stomach.

"You're not in labor, Pepa, just go lay down and they'll pass." The woman groaned, but eventually waddled off to her room, leaving Camilo and his primas entirely at the mercy of Abuela. He whimpered before she even reached him, but was able to hold it back when a hand enclosed around his wrist, and pulled him along behind. "Girls! Go to your rooms!"

"Si, Abuela." He looked back, abandoned and betrayed, and Luisa mouthed an apology to him before he was pulled into the kitchen.

"Camilo, what were you thinking? Have we not gone over this? Have I not explicitly told you not to do this again?"

"Lo siento mucho, Abuela." She snatched a cloth from the basket, grinding her teeth as she ran it under water. He whined as it was roughly rubbed over his face. "Abuela, that hurts!"

"Shush! You know better than this."

"We were just having fun—"

"You know better! If you want to have fun, go have fun with the other boys. You will not act like this, Camilo." He just nodded slightly, sniffling. After throwing the towel down, Abuela sighed. "Look at me."

"Si, Abuela?" She cupped a hand under his chin, rubbing a thumb over his cheek.

"This is to keep you safe, Camilo. You must behave yourself, for your own sake, and the sake of this family."

"Si, Abuela."

"Will I catch you behaving like this again?" He shook his head.

"No, Abuela."

And, he didn't lie. She didn't catch him again. He was very careful to be sure of that.

Chapter Text

"Dolores?" She looked up, blinking. "How, ah…" He cleared his throat. "How was your date?"

"It went very well. How was your talk with Tio Bruno?" Camilo groaned, but he wasn't surprised.

"Dolores, please, you have to promise not to talk about that." She smiled, grabbing a piece of bread.

"I don't even know what you were talking about. I just know you both were clearly pouring your hearts out." Her smile faded. "I… I did hear you mention some things about Abuela. I hope everything is alright."

"Yeah, everything's great." She didn't know. Gracias a Dios, she didn't know. "We were just… Bonding."

"That's good." She grabbed a cup of coffee, and gently ruffled his hair as she walked by. "Tio is a good man, Camilo. He really is."

"Yeah." He nodded to himself, watching her skirt swish as she went about her day. "I know."

"Hey, Bruno?" He knocked on the door, peeking inside. "Bruno?"

"I'm in my room." It echoed off the rock, and he knew it wasn’t coming from above, but that didn’t mean he knew where it was coming from.

“Ah… And, that is…”

“Up. Second landing.” He stared up at the stairs. He didn’t see any landing, much less defined numbers of them. After a long silence, a door creaked open.

“Wait, wait wait, that’s a room?” Bruno smiled, pulling his ruana over his head as she stumbled down the stairs.

“There are a lot of rooms in here, sobrino. The only thing so high up is my vision cave.” He offered a light laugh. “Don’t tell anyone that. If people knew they didn’t have to climb thousands of stairs to get to my bedroom, I’d get harassed by your mama a lot more often. I would actually die if I climbed those every day, I’m fifty years old, Camilo.”

“I didn’t think about that.” He frowned, and shook his head. “Dolores didn’t actually hear us last night. I guess she was too focused on Mariano on the way back.”

"That's good, that's good. I broke the vision plate, so you don't have to worry about it being found."

"Thank you." He took a deep breath, and sighed.

"How are you doing today?"

"What? Ah… Fine. I was fine before, I'm fine now… I'm fine." Bruno frowned. "I am, promise. Just still… I still don't like that you know, I think."

"You think?"

"Well, I— it might be kind of nice, I guess? To, you know, be able to talk about it. But also, with Dolores, I wouldn't be able to anyways, so I probably won't, but… I think I want to. I want to… Understand what's happening, because I don't know, but— but I—" He sighed, pulling at his ruana. "I'm scared."

"That's okay."

"It is?" Bruno gently grabbed his wrist, pulling him up the stairs. He couldn't remember what the room looked like before, but he knew it hadn't changed, and just stepping into it made him feel so young again.

"Of course it is, Camilo." He slumped over on the bed, sighing.

"Are you okay?" Bruno hummed.

"I'll be fine. Just didn't sleep."

"You're really pale…" It got a light chuckle.

"I'm fine, Camilo. You're not here to talk about me." He slowly sat on the floor by his tio's feet, frowning up at him. "Ah, and, your sister can't hear in here. Too much sand, too much white noise. If she tried, she'd get too overwhelmed to make much out. It's by design, I think."

"Oh. So…"

"So it's safe to talk in here, if you want to." Bruno held out his hand, and Camilo almost reached up to grab it, before making the decision to just shove his cheek into it like a cat. His tio let out the most genuine laugh he had heard in a long time. "Do you want to come sit up here? You don't have to stay on the ground, you'll get dirty. Y'know, the sand."

"I'm okay here." He leaned further into the hand, as Bruno gently rubbed his cheek.

"Do you want to talk?"

"I don't… I don't know what to talk about. I mean, obviously the… But how would I—"

"You can talk about whatever you want, however you want. You don't have to worry about anything." Camilo swallowed, and frowned.

"Anything? And you won't tell?"

"I won't tell a soul." He sighed.

"You know, you make it really hard to not like you." Bruno blinked.

"Ah, thanks, I think?" He giggled.

"You still scare me."

"I thought I didn't scare you." Camilo groaned, but his smile didn't fall. "Is there anything I can do?"

"No. I'm not… Scared of you. Not you. But… I'm sorry, Tio."

"You were told a lot of things. It's fine, I get it."

"That's not what…" Bruno tilted his head, frowning. "The stories never scared me. I always knew that people were being overdramatic, you weren't going around killing goldfish or trying to ruin your sister's wedding, that was obvious. You're not some cartoon villain. But…"

"But I scared you, that night, didn't I?" Camilo didn’t respond. “Lo siento mucho. I didn’t mean… I didn’t mean any of it. I shouldn't have let you see that.”

“Why did you do it? Leave? I don’t understand.”

“I needed to—”

“Protect Mirabel, yeah, but why leave? Why couldn’t you protect her and stay? Why… Why is she—”

“Camilo, I had a few moments to make a life changing decision. Maybe it was the wrong one, I don’t know. But it all worked out, and you’re all safe, and that’s what matters.” He could feel his lip quivering, and desperately tried to keep himself together.

“Why was she more important than the rest of us?” Bruno squeaked slightly.

"No, no no, Camilo that's not— I never meant to—"

"Mama and Abuela gave me hell after you left. I was five years old, and all of a sudden, I was supposed to be responsible and a role model, because I was the only boy with a gift. And when Antonio was born, I was the one who was supposed to help him. But you know that. Abuela got so much worse to me, about my gift, and I didn’t even have anyone to go to anymore, and you just watched, because Mirabel needed protecting more.” His tio didn’t even answer, didn’t look up. His hands clasped in his lap, and Camilo missed the warmth on his cheek. “I just don’t understand why she was so much more important.”

“It’s not that… Camilo, none of you are any more important than the others. Not Mirabel, not Isabela, not you. But…” He just stared, expectant. He didn’t mean to snap, not consciously, but he had been so upset for so long, and Bruno said he could talk about anything. “You’re very strong, Camilo. You all are, in your own ways.”

“So is Mirabel.”

“She is, incredibly so. But… But Mirabel doesn’t have a gift. Mirabel doesn’t have the support of your Abuela, even less than you and me do—”

“I mean, Abuela has yet to shun and basically disown me or Mirabel, and ban the entire town from talking acknowledging our existence.”

“Camilo.” He just shrugged. “Mirabel was already set up to have a very difficult time in this family. I’m glad she was able to stay in good spirits and not hold grudges, but she has had a very difficult time. If she had to grow up with the weight of my vision…”

“Do you think Abuela would have let her stay?”

“Well, it’s not as if she would have been able to abandon a five year old, not while still being a pillar of the community.”

“She basically abandoned you.” Bruno huffed, gripping his ruana.

“I left of my own accord, and I was a forty year old man. That’s different. Not to mention, I wasn’t exactly… In good standing, with the community.” He shook his head, sighing. “I don’t know what Abuela would have done, but I know it wouldn’t have been good, for Mirabel or for the rest of the family. That’s what caused it in the end, after all. It’s not as if I could just pretend nothing happened, Abuela was the one who made me do the vision, I couldn’t have hidden it. I couldn’t let Mirabel grow up like that. And, you were all so young, if everything happened back then that just happened now…”

“Why did you wait so long? When did you plan on coming back?” Bruno frowned.

“I…”

“You… Did plan on coming back, right? You couldn’t seriously think you’d just live in the walls until you died.” His tio winced, and it made Camilo’s stomach turn. “Why?”

“You guys were happy. You didn’t want me back, and that’s fine.”

“I wanted you back. I think… I know Tia did, even Mama did, and the girls… If anyone didn’t, then it was just Abuela.” A hand fell onto his hair.

“I’m glad to hear that, Camilo. Really, that… That means a lot.” Bruno cleared his throat. “You, ah, didn’t wash your hair last night.”

“What? No, but it’s not that bad. Dolores says I should only wash it a couple of times a week, at most.”

“It’s full of sand.”

“Oh.” Bruno failed at holding back a laugh, and Camilo didn’t even try. Any lingering uncomfortableness in the air instantly faded, and his forehead fell against his tio’s knee.

“You should clean it, I can’t imagine it’s comfortable.”

“Dolores says you used to do her hair when she was little.” Bruno smiled, and Camilo kept himself collapsed over his leg, but turned his head to look up.

“I used to do your hair, too, but it was much shorter then. Pepa never had much luck with it, and you were a fussy kid, you couldn’t stand her pulling.” Camilo hummed, gently grabbing a single curl, pulling it out and watching it bounce back up.

“Yeah, Abuela only started letting me really grow it out a couple years ago. My hair is more like Mama’s than Dolores or Antonio’s, though, she should be able to do it.”

“Si, but she can barely handle her own hair. She always wears it braided for a reason. But, yours is thicker, and curlier, and you didn’t exactly let her practice after I started offering to do it.”

“How did you learn?”

“Women in town, mostly. After Dolores was born, and Felix made it clear he didn’t know what he was doing, some of the local women offered to help us learn. Your mama didn’t last too long before giving up, but Dolores really wanted her hair styled as she got older, so someone had to learn to do it.”

“Can you braid my hair? Not now, I mean, sand, but…”

“If you want me too, at some point, I’d be happy to.” Camilo frowned slightly.

“Abuela probably wouldn’t be happy about it.”

“My sisters braided my hair all the time when we were teenagers, she didn’t like it then, but she has no room to talk.”

“Wait, really?” He sat up, shuffling closer and pushing himself up with his tio’s legs. It got a wince.

“Yeah, sure. I was the only boy in the entire family, and even most of the city were women and girls. Hair, makeup, clothes, they had a lot of fun, so I didn’t really mind.” Camilo smiled a little. “If you wash your hair now, I can probably have it braided by lunchtime, so you can really get under your Abuela’s skin.” Camilo’s smile turned to a grin, and leaned forward to give his tio a quick, unreciprocated hug, and scampered out of the room. “Ah, careful on the stairs! They break.” He wished he had that information before the edge crumbled under his foot, and he pouted up at Bruno’s scared face from the floor.

--

Camilo was always a fussy kid. His mama always said that’s why he was such a troublemaker, that Dolores was so easy and quiet, and Camilo was the exact opposite. He would fight tooth and nail at every possible opportunity, he would cry and scream at any inconvenience, and he was very much of the belief that rules were put in place solely for him to find ways to break.

It wasn't like he was causing problems just to cause problems. He was just bored, or upset, or tired, or hungry. He knew how much he stressed out his mama, and saw how much grief he caused Abuela when people were around, but it wasn't his fault, not really.

It wasn't like he was inconsolable, either. He would get upset, but he was easy to calm down. He was a happy kid, overall.

As could be expected, Bruno was the first one to notice how to calm him down, which he then proceeded to share with his mama and papa, and everyone else who ever had to deal with his tantrums. Usually, he would calm down, but he always relaxed with his tio.

He'd curl up in his arms, reaching up to grab at his hair or rub the stubble on his face. Sometimes, he would trace out the hourglasses on his ruana. His tio was always gentle, always calm and quiet, and, for all of his endless energy and constant troublemaking, he could gladly spend an entire day cuddled up against his tio’s chest, being rocked back and forth like an infant, and blanketed in the soft voice whispering about things that he didn’t understand, and didn’t really care to. His mama used to say that it was the real miracle.

But, he was still a fussy kid. After Tio Bruno left, he got so much worse. He lost his safety net. Bruno was the one he’d run to for everything. When that was taken away, especially with so many family pressures suddenly falling on him, he couldn't blame his mama and Abuela for getting overwhelmed. He never really understood what was so different between Tio Bruno and the other adults, but he knew there was a difference. He knew that they didn’t have as much patience, or had way too much. They weren’t as willing to let him curl up with them in bed or on the living room couch when he was sad or scared, didn’t cradle him and rub his stomach when he didn’t feel good. Mirabel whispered about it too, when it was late at night and the adults and older girls were all asleep, and Camilo snuck off to the nursery when he couldn’t bring himself to lay down alone in the dark room.

“I hear Isabela and Dorores talking about it, too.” She pressed closer, carefully looping a bit of yarn over a needle. It was a recent hobby, after a local woman gave her some old knitting supplies for her seventh birthday. “Luisa sometimes, too.”

“What kind of things do they talk about?” He swung his legs, lifting his head from her shoulder to pay closer attention.

“Lots of stuff.” She sent a glance to the door, and her voice dropped even lower. “Once, I heard Dolores tell Isa that she heard Mama and Tia Pepa crying about him. Saying they missed him and stuff. Apparently, Abuela heard them and they got yelled at.”

“Really? I thought Mami didn’t like him.” Mirabel shrugged.

“I guess they’re just pretending, to make Abuela happy. And…”

“And what?” She quickly shushed him, dropping her yarn in a rush to cover his mouth, and they waited with a bated breath for any sound of movement. The only sound was the distant squeak of a rat, and the knocking of trees outside.

“One day, a few months ago, Mama and Papi were talking in the kitchen. I don’t think they heard me, because they were talking about him. Mama said… Mama said that she thought he might have, y’know… Made himself disappear.” Camilo frowned.

“Well, yeah. He left, it’s not like someone—”

“No, like…” She winced, and ran a finger across her neck. “Apparently, he had tried a few times before, when they were, like, Isa’s age, or a little older. I don’t know, Mama got really sad, so Papi started talking about other things. I think Dolores said she’s heard Tia Pepa and Tio Felix talking about it too, though”

“So… Do you think it’s true?” She shrugged again, picking her things up off the floor. Camilo’s throat felt tight. Even with how scary Tio Bruno was when he left, there was still a little bit of him that wanted the man back. He wanted the warm hugs, and dramatic book readings, and the careful brush through his hair. He missed sneaking food off his tio’s plate under the table. when he thought nobody was looking, getting soft smiles and tickles that would make all eyes fall on him anyways, and make him shove the spoils in his mouth before anyone could take it.

He always assumed Bruno would come back. It might have taken years, but until that moment, he hadn’t ever thought that he might never see him again. It made him choke up, and he could feel himself tremble. Mirabel just shrugged.

“I don’t know if it’s true. That’s just what I’ve heard.”

“But if all the grown-ups are saying it, then…” He shuffled back on the bed, leaning against the wall. “Sometimes, I… I forget what he looks like.”

“Yeah, me too. I told Mama, she said that it’s normal, and that it’ll be okay.”

“Yeah… It’ll be okay.”

Chapter Text

“Hey, Tio Bruno?” The man looked up, snapped out of his daze. “I told Antonio I’d take him down to the river today, but I’m a little overbooked with chores. Are you free?”

“Ah… Yeah, that should be fine, Luisa. Don’t worry about it.” Bruno gently ruffled the little boy’s hair with a small smile, and got a grin in response.

“You have to take me soon then! You promised!” Luisa laughed, and nodded, gently nudging his chair as she passed.

“Definitely, little guy. Maybe this weekend.” Camilo had to smile. His little brother’s grin was more contagious than anything, but it couldn’t keep the pang of envy from stabbing in his chest. He just shoved forkfuls of rice and vegetables into his mouth and watched the family slowly disperse. Eventually, it was just him and Bruno, the man picking apart an arepa de queso, at least half of it being fed to the rats perched on his shoulder and wrist.

“I thought you were going to help me in the garden.” Bruno blinked, and let out a breath.

“Oh… I’m sorry, I forgot— ah, I still can, I will, but…”

“It’s fine, it’s whatever. Have fun with ‘Tonio.” The man winced, but Camilo dodged the hand reaching to grab his ruana, ducking into the house.

"Camilo, it's not—"

“Oh!” Camilo shook his head, and instinctively shifted into the face he was staring at. Julieta just smiled., steadying his shoulders and taking his plate as he changed back to normal. “Careful, mijo. What has you in such a hurry?”

“Nothing. Sorry Tia. That’s for cooking.” She frowned, turning him face to meet hers when he tried to leave.

“What happened?”

“Nothing, Tia. I’m fine. Just tired.” It was clear he wasn’t believed, but she just sighed.

“You’ve been tired a lot lately. Are you having trouble sleeping?” He hummed.

“I guess. I…” She leaned against the counter, holding his hand in both of hers. As gentle as it was, he knew there was no getting away from it. “Ever since the… You know, the house falling, our gifts… It’s just been hard,” he whispered, and she smiled.

“You know you can talk to us, right? Any of us, and I’m sure your primas and your hermana would say the same.” She squeezed him tight against her chest for a moment. “You’re not alone, Camilo. People are here to support you. Go on now, I’m sure you have plans for the day.”

“Thanks, Tia.” She kissed his cheek, and smacked his shoulder with another command to get going. He just snatched one more arepa from the basket on the counter, and spun away when she tried to grab him.

The community garden was massive and flourishing no matter the season, thanks to his mama and Isabela's constant tending. It wasn't often it was his job to handle it for the day. He has, as Isabela put it, "the opposite of a green thumb. A red thumb. Red with the blood of all of the plants you massacred."

There was always an abundance of people in and out. It fed most of the village, especially as the typical off seasons rolled around, and people’s personal gardens didn’t have the aid of his family’s constant interference. He hated having garden chores, especially alone. He was awful, and with nobody around to ask for help except for the other villagers (who Abuela would definitely be angry if he asked, and he was not dealing with that,) he was always so scared he would mess up. What if he does something wrong, and completely destroys the avocado trees or the tomatoes? He had already squished a pepper.

It didn't help that it was so hot. It was hot for him, which took a lot. His ruana was draped over the fence, and he had collapsed on the ground below it, clutching a jar of water and watching the other people working. His head hurt.

"You staying awake, Madrigal?" He yelped, hugging his water and blinking up at the silhouetted figure above him.

"Huh?"

"Are you feeling alright?" The man crouched down in front of him, and Camilo could barely make out the frown.

"Oh… Ah, yeah, sorry. Guess I'm a little more tired than I thought." He brushed it off with a laugh, and accepted the hand to pull himself to his feet, even as his entire body screamed for him to stop.

"Alright. Make sure you're drinking, it'll keep you going."

"Got it. Gracias, Signor." He was handed a crate of tomatoes, and sent down one of the roads to pick all of the ripe ones. At least it kept him from actually trying to grow something.

“Camilo?” He yelped, scrambling to catch a tomato before it fell, and only succeeding in slipping in the dirt and almost falling into the full crate beside him. He braced himself to destroy at least a week’s worth of food, and squeaked when he was yanked in the other direction, and against his tio’s chest. “You… Should not be let into the garden.”

“Are you going to tell that to Abuela, because I’ve tried.” Bruno let out a breath, and took a step back to brush the dirt Camilo had gotten on his clothes.

“Do you… Still want help?” He frowned. It had to be nearly noon, if his impromptu nap didn’t throw him off too much and the sun was to be believed. He’d be able to get away for lunch soon.

“Done playing with Toni?” Bruno sighed. “No, it’s fine. Sorry, I know you didn’t mean to, I just… I looked forward to spending some time with you, I guess.”

“We can still do that, if you want. Are you here all day, or just this morning?”

“I still have a few hours after lunch.” His tio smiled, and hesitantly reached towards his hair, flicking a leaf onto the ground.

“I’ll help you, if you want. Or we can do something else when you’re done.”

"Do you actually want to?" He didn’t mean to sound so weak, and he saw the way it made Bruno's face fall.

"I love spending time with you, Camilo."

“Who do you like more, me or Toni?” Bruno frowned, and a look of genuine distress crossed his face. “I’m joking! Dios mio, do you really think I’m that mean? Of course it’s Antonio, he’s the most perfect baby to ever exist.”

“Camilo…” He grabbed the crate of tomatoes, carefully balancing it while gripping his tio’s ruana.

“What? He is. Come on, I’m hungry.”

“You’re surrounded by food.”

“I’m surrounded by vegetables, there’s a difference.” He set the crate on the table, and all but dragged Bruno towards the house.

“Camilo, wait, slow down—”

“Is Tia home? Or, no, she said she made stuff for us this morning, right? Or should we get something in town?”

“Niño, slow down.” He was finally pulled to a stop, and turned around, sighing as dramatic as he could manage. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean? I’m trying to get your input on food. I’m hungry, Tio.”

“You were just mad at me, like, three minutes ago.” Camilo barely bit back a wince, and shrugged.

“I wasn’t mad. I was just a little… Upset. Sad. I looked forward to spending time with you, and you canceled on me to babysit. But, you’re here now, so I want to spend time with you.”

“I'm still not sure what happened to being terrified of me for ten years.” He sighed again.

“I want to not be. I’m trying really hard here, Bruno. I…" His chest felt a bit tight, and he gripped the man's ruana tighter. "I wish things could be like they were before."

"But… You're not five years old anymore, Camilo, and I'm not… And I'm not the role model anyone wants for a teenage boy. Or… A teenage— a teenager, I mean, I'm sorry—"

"But you're nice to me." Bruno frowned. "That's all that really matters, right? You're nice, and you're not, like, murdering people or anything. I have worse options." He shuffled a bit closer, and leaned into his tio's arm. "I'm terrified of you. Really. But… I also know I have no reason to be, and you've only given me reasons not to be, so I'm not, at the same time. I'm… I'm confused, and I think that's way more terrifying than even Mami's boogie man stories of you ever could be."

"That's alright, Camilo."

"It is?"

"It is."

--

He never understood why, but Camilo always liked the way his tio smelled, more than anyone else in his family. He mentioned it once to his tia, when she asked, and she said it was natural for kids his age, something about caregivers and calming him down. He didn't really know what it meant, but he didn't care, so long as he got to bury his face in Tio Bruno's hair or chest while he was being rocked to sleep, or cuddle up in the man's blankets on the living room couch when it was way past his bedtime and he oh so sneakily went to join him in watching shows Camilo didn't understand.

He remembered, vaguely, when they first got a real shower. Abuela had held off for a long time, saying it wasn't necessary. They made due with baths every night, and it was no difference to Camilo, since he and Mirabel weren't allowed to use it anyways until they were bigger. More than the shower itself, though, he remembered how strange he found it that Bruno never used it. Even before, when they had hot baths and it was bitterly cold by Camilo’s standards, the man would usually opt for a little secluded spot in the river behind the house. It made his hair and clothes always smell like the water, like the plants and the dirt, and the sweet, floral scent of soaps that Camilo knew (but didn't tell) that he stole from his sisters.

Tia Julieta said that it's just what they were used to. That it's the only way they ever did as kids, and Bruno just didn't take to change well. Camilo didn't like change either, he hated it when Tia altered her arepa de queso recipe that one day, and the cheese wasn't as gooey, or when Isabela would grow a bunch of flowers that tripped him as he ran up and down the stairs, making him hit his head and cry and spoiling his plans to raid the fridge or steal some of mama's pretty glittery makeup. But he did like hot baths, and he couldn't understand how anyone couldn't. Whenever he asked his mama, she would roll her eyes and mutter something about habits, and Tia would just smile and shrug and say it was his choice, and if he wanted to bathe in a cold, fishy river, then it wasn't their job to stop him.

But, as much as he complained about how dumb his tio must have been just because of habits, he never complained about the smell. He even went so far as to steal one of his tio's ruanas. It was an old one, torn and frayed even by Bruno's standards, but it was shoved in the back of his closet with all of his other ones, and still smelt like them. He smuggled it away in his room, cuddling with it on the nights when his tio would be locked away in his tower for days at a time, and Camilo missed him so much that he cried.

He kept that ruana for years. It never seemed to lose the smell, even after Bruno left. He would cling to it and try to remember the Before, when he was always smiley and happy and wasn't so scared, and his mama and Abuela didn't treat his tio like some kind of monster. He would always hide it, stuffing it into a pillow case or under his bed whenever he wasn't clutching it to his chest with his favourite teddy and trying to go to sleep.

It was safe that way. His parents rarely tucked him in after Bruno left, and they never checked on him during the night. The most they'd do is have Dolores listen to make sure he was breathing and not causing trouble, and yell a goodnight to him if she told them he was still awake.

That was why it was so weird, when he was mostly asleep, with his face buried in the soft fabric, and he heard light footsteps on the creaky metal stairs. He had to assume it was Mirabel, but usually if she had a nightmare or something, she'd go to her parents or Luisa. He just groaned, and curled up tighter.

"Mijo?" He hummed softly, blearily blinking up at the vague shape of his mama. "Lo siento, I didn't think you were already asleep."

"'m not," he whispered, slurred and obvious that he, in fact, was. She just giggled a bit.

"I just wanted to check on you. Isabela and Dolores aren't feeling well, they probably caught a little cold."

"I'm okay."

"Good. That's good, Camilo, I…" She took a small step closer, tugging his blanket a bit. "Is that your tio's?"

"It's mine." He tried to grip it tighter, but it was gently pulled from his hands, and he let out an agonized whine. "Mami, it's mine! You can't take it, it's mine, I don't want you to take it!" She slowly sat down on the foot of his bed, staring at the piece of fabric with an expression so blank it scared him. She closed her eyes, and held it to her face, and sighed deeply.

“Do you miss Tio Bruno, mijo?” Camilo chewed his lip, and shuffled back into his pillows.

“Mhm. A lot.” The breath his mama took was shaky, and even with his fear of her lashing out at him, he immediately crawled forwards and cuddled into her side. “Are you going to cry, Mami?”

“No. No, baby, I’m okay.” She ran fingers through his hair, long nails scratching his head. “I just miss your tio a lot, too.”

“You do?” She nodded slowly. “Do you… Really think he’s dead? Mirabel said…”

“I don’t know, Camilo. I hope not, I really hope not, but I don’t know.” She sighed again, and forced a smile. Camilo let himself be picked up, got a tight hug and a kiss to his head, and was carefully laid back down against his pillows. His mama delicately swaddled his teddy in the ruana, and tucked it into his arms, pulling the blankets around him. “You keep that in here, and you do not let Abuela see it, si?”

“Si, Mami.”

"I love you, Camilo. Get some sleep now."

"Mami?" She hummed. "If Tio Bruno doesn't come back, what’ll happen?"

"We'll move on, and we'll be okay. That's the only thing that can happen, mijo."

Chapter Text

Your hair is really long, isn't it?" Isabela pulled one of the curls straight, holding it flat against his back. He just hummed and shoved another chunk of pandebono in his mouth.

"It's called shrinkage, Isa, now shush. We're just getting to the good part." Camilo could almost feel her eyes roll behind him, and he sighed. Dolores always picked the worst books, stuffy romance and barely-there plots otherwise, and several pages she would conveniently skip through whenever the two characters got a bit too touchy for Antonio's little ears. It didn't stop him from sitting on the floor between Isabela's legs, letting nails run along his scalp and carefully untangle his curls one at a time. He leaned back into her chest, closing his eyes and listening to Dolores' soft voice.

"Are you sure you've been feeling alright, Milo?" Mirabel was quiet, but it still made his sister pause. "You've been really tired recently. Are you still not sleeping?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He grinned, not bothering to pick his head up from Isabela's chest.

"Are you still having nightmares all the time?"

"Dolores!" She shrugged, and he could feel everyone's eyes boring into him.

"Camilo, you've been having nightmares? Why didn't you tell us?" Isabela gently tugged his hair. Luisa scooted closer.

"Yeah, you know you can always come wake me up if you need, right?"

"You can come get me, too!" Antonio crawled into his lap, grabbing his cheeks, eyebrows pinched together and mouth set in a pouty frown. "You never let me be scared of bad dreams."

“I know, it’s just… It’s not something I really know how to…”

“Is it what you were talking to Tia Julieta about the other day? About losing your gift?” He slumped into himself, hugging Antonio to his chest.

“Dolores, you can be a little invasive sometimes, you know that?” He murmured, and sighed. “Yeah, kinda.”

“What about it?” Camilo didn’t answer, just running a hand over Antonio’s hair. “When I lost my gift, I got really scared and lonely, because I had made so many new friends and then they couldn’t talk to me anymore, and it made me really, really sad.”

“Yeah. I think we all had a really rough time. You can talk to us about it, if you want.”

“It’s not— losing my gift was— that's not the issue. I mean, it was awful, but it isn’t what’s… I have it back now, and it’s fine.” Isabela pushed him off, moving to sit beside him and see his face.

“So what is it? Talk to us, Camilo, maybe we can help.” He knew they couldn’t. There was no way they would understand, and he knew that, but he also knew it would feel so nice to get it off his chest and into the world.

“I don’t… Know who I am anymore.” Antonio shifted on his lap, blinking up at him. The girls might at least understand the basics of it, but he knew his brother would be confused. “It’s dumb, I shouldn’t—”

“It’s bothering you, Camilo. That means it’s important.” Dolores closed the book, and joined them on the floor, petting Antonio’s hair and taking one of Camilo’s hands. “What do you mean?”

“My— with my gift, I’m never really me, you know? And… I like that. I like being other people, I like being able to— and then, when we lost our gifts, I was just… Me. It made me realize that I don’t know who I am when I have to actually be myself.” He felt his lip quivering a bit, and knew a dam was breaking even before it did. “I thought it would go away. After the gifts came back, I thought that I’d get back into everything, get used to it again, and I’d be okay, but it’s still there. I can’t— everything about me is shaped off of other people. Even when I’m myself, I still feel like I’m someone else, like I’m trapped in someone else’s body, and I don’t… I just don’t know what to do. It scares me,” he let his voice drop to a shaky whisper, and the room was blanketed in a thick, heavy silence. It struck deep in his chest. far too late, what he had actually said, and stared at Dolores. Her eyes were wide, but blank, and he felt panic claw at his throat.

“Camilo!” Luisa was the first to make a move, pulling him close and crushing him to her chest. Antonio yelped as he was dropped onto the floor, but quickly scrambled back up and threw his arms as far around Camilo’s waist as he could manage. “You’ve been dealing with that since we lost our gifts? It’s been months! Why haven’t you said anything?”

“Really, Camilo, that’s some serious stuff. You should have told someone sooner, you shouldn’t just be dealing with this alone.” Mirabel grabbed his wrist, easing her sister off a bit so he could breathe. He just shrugged, but his chest was warm, and his throat was tight.

“Have you told any of the grown-ups? Tio Bruno? You’ve been really close with him, right?” He shook his head. He knew that if he opened his mouth, he wouldn’t be able to hold anything back.

“He might be able to help. I mean, he’s had a lot of issues with his gift and what it does to his head, too, he’d probably understand more than anyone else.” Camilo shook his head quickly, carefully worming his way out of the tight crowd around him.

“No, no, it’s— it’s not that big of a deal, I’ll get over it, I…”

“You don’t have to get over it, Camilo.” Isabela took his hands, holding them to her chest. “We’re your family, we love you. We want to help you in any way we can. Just tell us what you need.”

“I love you too, but I don’t need anything. I’ll get over it.”

“Get over what? What’s going on?” He yelped, all but shoving Isabela away. Bruno just blinked slowly, and cleared his throat. “Sorry, I don’t mean to invade. Pepa just asked me to get Antonio ready for bed.”

“What? It’s not that late!” Bruno crouched down, smiling.

“Maybe not, but you have to get a bath and get your hair taken care of first. Come on, your mama is waiting for you.” Antonio pouted, and reached up towards Camilo. He gladly scooped up his little brother to give him a cuddle.

“Promise you’ll be okay?”

“Promise, buddy. Go get ready for bed.” He smiled, and planted a kiss on Camilo’s cheek, before scurrying off past their tio.

“Is everything alright, Camilo?”

“Great.” It just got a frown. “I’ll be fine.”

“Alright.” There was a long, tense moment, but Bruno suddenly turned on his heel and left, and Camilo let out a breath.

“You should talk to him, Milo. Or at least one of the adults. They’ll know way more than us.” Luisa pat his shoulder, and he sighed.

“Yeah. I probably should.” He absolutely wouldn’t. “Isabela, you still need to finish my hair.”

“Is Dolly going to finish this chapter?”

“Not with Antonio gone, he gets upset. But, I have a way better one that I can't read with him here.” She plopped back into the chair, dragging the crate of books out to dig through. Camilo forced a groan, and everyone settled back into their spots, though Mirabel and Luisa were notably closer, and Dolores stopped at almost every opportunity to glance at him. He just closed his eyes, and melted into the feeling of his cousins pressed to his sides, and delicate fingers in his hair.

He didn’t remember falling asleep. He had to assume Luisa carried him to bed, because he woke up the next morning on a makeshift mattress of blankets on his stage, staring up at the colours shifting around on his ceiling. His face felt tight in a tell-tale sign that Isabela forgot to wipe off the makeup she had forced upon him after Abuela went to bed. The ceiling seemed miles away, and the colours blurred and melded together as they lazily slid around like oil.

His door eventually opened, and he turned his head. Mirabel peaked her head around, and grinned. He rolled over to bury his face in the blankets, wincing as he saw foundation smear across one.

“Glad you’re up! It’s almost time for breakfast, come on.” He groaned, but slowly pushed himself up. His body screamed at his sleeping arrangements, and Mirabel laughed. "You might want to make yourself more presentable first, amigo."

"Shut up," he murmured. It took a long minute to get his bearings, but he worked up the energy to shift into a more clean and awake version of himself. Mirabel winced.

"How… How often do you do that?" He just shrugged, smiled, and pushed her out of his room.

"Glad you could join us, mijo." He plopped into the seat between his uncle and his mother, grinning at the woman.

"Glad to be here." She sighed and shook her head, and when he leaned back from filling his plate with food, he caught Bruno staring at him. He glanced over, and was honestly surprised when the man didn't immediately drop his gaze like normal. He eventually broke the contact to scan the table, and cleared his throat. Nobody else seemed to be paying any attention to them. "What?"

"You're, ah, slipping a bit there, niño," he whispered, and gently tugged a lock of his own hair. Camilo squeaked. "Tired?"

"Very. Thanks." He quickly tucked his hair behind his ear, feeling the hot pink powder rub off on his fingers, from Isabela's experiments.

"Are you feeling alright?" He nodded slightly. "You're sure?"

"Not here." Bruno hummed, but let it drop as Antonio pulled his attention away. He could see his sister watching them from across the table, ignoring Mirabel as she rambled about something or another. He just slumped in his seat.

He was slipping. Was he just distracted, just tired? Or was he losing control again? Now, if everyone saw past his cover and actually saw him, he wouldn't have the excuse of being stressed and scared from his entire life falling apart. Now, he would just have to admit that he was always stressed and scared, that he wasn't always his mama's "sunshine," or the perfect babysitter and role model for the village kids, or the fun, carefree friend that would get people out of trouble with his family's name. He leaned a bit closer to his tio, and sighed.

"I'm so tired," he whispered, and it was barely loud enough for him to hear himself. Bruno kept chatting away with his brother about rats and birds and fish, but a hand fell on Camilo’s leg, gently squeezing his knee.

"Is there anything that needs done today, Mama?" Abuela hummed, glancing at her children.

"Chores, work. Nothing in particular." Camilo looked at Bruno, and nodded. The man still kept a hand on him until the table started clearing, and gently tugged Camilo’s sleeve when he stood.

"What's wrong?" Camilo collapsed onto the couch, rubbing his face.

"Tio, I'm so tired." Bruno carefully sat beside him, and pulled his knees to his chest.

"Physically, or…"

"I don't know." He leaned against Bruno's side, relishing in the warmth as an arm was put around his shoulders. "They said I should talk to you."

"You can always talk to me."

"That's not true. You'll let me, but that doesn't mean I can. Dolores can always hear, and if Mami or Abuela found out, I'd…" He sighed. "I want to. I… Don't want to, but I think I should, that I need to, because I need to talk to someone and nobody else would understand, but…"

"What do you need me to do?" He sighed softly.

"I need to do stuff. Get cleaned up from last night and everything, but… Tio, I'm tired."

"Do you have everything in your room, or do you need me to go get some?"

"You don't need to—" Bruno squeezed his shoulder, and pulled him up.

"I'd be happy to. What do you need?"

"I don't know. Isabela usually takes care of it before I go to bed. I have all my hair stuff, but…"

"Are you alright with me being in your room?" Camilo frowned, and nodded. "Alright. I'll get makeup remover from one of the girls, go wait."

"Thank you."

He got some much needed rest, leaning against Bruno's chest as he let his gift fall, and let the man dote over him, wiping his face and brushing out his hair and, as he made idle conversation about whatever came to mind, carefully plaiting half of the curls tight to his head. If he eventually fell asleep, curled up against the man in his nest of blankets, then nobody mentioned it at lunch.

--

The first time Camilo heard the word "depressed," he was too little to understand. He just knew it was what the grown-ups said sometimes when talking about his tio, usually in those long stints where they'd go days without seeing him.

The next time, it was an older boy in the village. From the hands that shoved Camilo to the ground, to the venom in his voice, he knew it was bad. Was that why Tio left? He was depressed, and that was bad, so he left?

"Mami?" He tugged on her dress as she leaned over the counter, scribbling angrily in a notepad.

"Mijo?" Her voice was sharp, but not directed at him, so he pressed closer to her side. He was still covered in dirt from his fall, and it rubbed off on the pretty yellow fabric, but he doubted she would notice.

"What does depressed mean?" Her hand stilled, and glanced back at him.

"It's… When you're very sad, mijo."

"Oh… But I'm not sad." She hummed.

"Well, that's good, Camilo. I'm very happy that you're not sad."

"So why—"

"Milo, mi amore, Mami is very busy right now. Can we talk about this later?" He pouted, but nodded. He never asked again.

As he got older, he started to understand the heavier implications of it. He understood why, when people would talk about Bruno, the word would carry a weight that would silence a room, and why kids would tease him and Dolores with it. When he was little, Bruno would tell him it was okay to cry, and to be upset, but Bruno was the one that would be whispered about. So, Camilo wasn’t depressed. He made sure of that. There was never a moment he wasn’t all smiles and laughs. There was never a day he didn’t look well rested and eager, where his eyes weren’t bright and sparkly with mischief, and his hair wasn’t washed and well combed. He was always happy.

So what if, some nights, he wasn’t able to make it up the stairs to bed with his stumbling, and passed out from pure exhaustion on his stage, or days where everything was spinning and blurry, and he couldn’t focus on anything? Everyone brushed off his swaying as hyperactivity, and his distraction, well, he was a kid, you couldn’t expect him to pay that much attention to chores or old stories. He was happy. He put in so much energy to make sure he was happy. He didn’t have a choice.

Chapter Text

Camilo was a popular boy, all things considered. He had a large group of friends, and got on with almost everyone in the village, whether they were a toddler, or teetering on the edge of death by old age. He tried so hard to make sure everyone around him was happy. He didn’t have a gift that let him help people like the rest of the family, so he had to make due, to prove his worth.

He was a performer. He loved it. The way kids giggled and clapped, and the way adults would ruffle his hair and whisper to him about schemes they were too old to do themselves. He had a talent, and he knew it. If a little one was sad, Camilo would have them bouncing around and laughing within minutes. When the older kids or adults were upset, he could always worm his way in and get them talking until they felt better. He was good with people. He helped people feel good, helped people laugh. It was what he was best at.

So why, then, was he so incapable of helping himself feel better? Why was he curled up and tucked away in the corner of his stage, hands painfully gripping his hair, eyes wet and burning, unable to stop himself from shaking as his throat closed enough that he couldn't breathe? He was always there for everybody. Why was nobody there for him?

Where was Dolores? Usually, when he got this bad, she'd hear him and come help. Was she in her room? Or out in town, too distracted or too busy to come? Did she just not care anymore?

He couldn't handle it. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move. He felt his stomach turn, and he regretted eating so much at lunch. He gagged, barely smacking a hand over his mouth. It made his head pound, and his chest burned. He let out a sob once he deemed it safe, and tried to stand.

Who was home? He couldn't risk being seen by his mama or Abuela, and he didn't want to deal with papa or Tio Augustin. Tia wouldn't be awful, but she would just go tell her sister. He didn't want to scare Antonio.

"Tio." It was a desperate, quiet croak. He was the only one who had ever really calmed him down before. His sister tried, but she would just sit with him until he handled it himself. Bruno was the only one who could actually help. "Tio, please. Please… Dolores? Help. Someone…"

He barely managed to make it away from his corner because lurching forward and gagging again, this time not able to do anything about the bile rising in his throat. He fell back to his knees, and rolled onto his back.

He had no concept of time. His room only had one window, and it was near his bed. He didn't know how long he spent sprawled out, chest aching from full body sobs, and throat and mouth sour and burning. Eventually, he heard quick, heavy footsteps outside the door, and it all but slammed open.

"Camilo?"

"Tio! Tio, Tio Bruno, I— Tio, please." He tried to clamber to his feet, but he couldn't see, and everything was spinning. Hands wrapped around his arms, and pulled him to the man's chest. "Where were you?"

"We've been in town, niño, remember? Dolores said I needed to come check on you, I'm sorry I took so long." His hair was pulled away from his face, and he felt it sticking to his cheeks and lips, but couldn't bring himself to care. "What happened?"

"Need help." Bruno tipped his head up, and he eventually blinked away enough tears that he could make out the horrified expression.

"First, you need to get cleaned up. Can you do that?" He shook his head. He could barely stand. "Can I help you?"

"Is anyone else here?"

"No. Go get some clean clothes, I'll clean that up." He tried to take a breath, but it still got caught in his throat. He just gripped Bruno's arms and hiccuped. "Camilo?"

"Can you just wash my hair?"

"We'll just wash your face and hair, but you at least need a clean shirt, and to wash your ruana." He nodded slightly. "Camilo, I need to go get something to clean that up. Go get a shirt. You're going to be fine."

"Promise you'll come back." Bruno smiled, gently prying his hands off.

"I promise. I will be right back. Go."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

Bruno's hands scratched along his scalp as he leaned over the edge of the tub, trying to catch his breath as he was finally able to relax a bit. The man mostly stayed quiet, occasionally making a comment on something or another, getting hums or small nods. Eventually, the sick smell was replaced by a fruity soap, and his face was carefully wiped down with a warm cloth while he perched on the counter. He twisted his hands in his tio's ruana while he was cleaned up, until gentle hands on his sides urged him down.

"Do you want me to braid your hair again, while you tell me what happened?" Camilo shrugged, pulling on a soft sleep shirt and leaning heavily into Bruno.

"I'm tired."

"I'm sure, that looked exhausting." He nodded slowly, and sighed. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"Room?"

"We can go to your room." Camilo shook his head. No, his room was dark, and lonely, and cold. "Mine?"

"Please."

"Let's grab your hair stuff. It needs to be brushed out, at least."

"Thank you, Tio." He slid to the floor between Bruno's feet, leaning back against him. He pulled his knees up, and sniffled. "Do I have to talk?"

"We'll, I'd like to know what happened, but if you really don't want to right now, I won't force you." He carefully rubbed a thick cream through his hair, petting him a little more than would be strictly necessary. “That… Was clearly very bad."

“Yeah.”

“Did something happen, or was it just…” Camilo shrugged, wincing as the brush caught on a knot, but Bruno didn’t keep pulling like his mama did. He just gently tried again until it came out, and he had to smile, and leaned back.

“I don’t know. I’ve been messed up all day, I guess I was just… Upset."

“I’m sorry.” He hummed. “I’d always be happy to stay home with you, if you think something like that might happen again.”

“To help, or to have an excuse to give Abuela?” Bruno huffed a little laugh, and gently tugged on his hair.

“Both.” There was a small beat of silence, and Bruno took a shaky breath. “You can come talk to me about anything.”

“I know.” He rolled a few grains of sand between his fingers. The room was mostly clean of it, but there was still a noticeable layer on the floor, and some of the furniture. He could only imagine how much cleaning would have to be put in to even keep it that clean. “Usually Dolores comes to help, if I get really bad like that.”

“She was caught in the middle of something. She could barely get away to tell me to come back.” He leaned against Bruno's leg, playing with a loose string on his pants.

"I don't know what happened."

"That's alright, Camilo." The brush was replaced by Bruno's hands, petting his hair and lulling him further into a sleepy daze.

"Is everything okay in town?"

“Everything is fine. Abuela just wanted to make sure of it. You didn’t miss anything.” He nodded.

“What was Dolores doing?”

“Getting interrogated by the Guzmans.” Camilo barely stifled a laugh, and sat up straight against as Bruno started twisting his hair into small braids.

“So, out of curiosity, do you know when I might start getting nieces or nephews?”

“Last time I did a vision for Dolores, she was nine years old and I told her she’d never find love. I haven’t really checked.” Camilo didn’t even try to hold back the laugh, and looked up at his tio.

“Well, you should. I mean, it all worked itself out, and she’s so happy with him. Clearly that future has already passed, so maybe you should do another one, see what comes next.” Bruno was quiet. and his hands stilled for a moment. Camilo slowly felt his mouth go dry. Was that an overstep? He knew Bruno was touchy about his gift. He was just curious, and excited for his sister. “I’m sorry—”

“No, no! I was just… Thinking. Ah, I might. I’ve thought about it, but… It’s difficult. Futures, they’re finicky, and if I look too far ahead, I could see something I don’t want to see. If she asks, I will, but if not, I’ll probably just let it play out on its own.” Camilo hummed, and shuffled back more, leaning his head against Bruno's stomach.

"About… My vision."

"What about it?” Camilo took a deep breath, and his hand returned to the distressed hems of his tio’s pants.

“Does it really not make you uncomfortable or anything?”

“Not at all.” Camilo prided himself on being able to pick up even the slightest shift in tone. It was important, if he was going to really be able to play other people. Bruno’s tone didn’t hold even the smallest hint of lying, or even hesitation. He still couldn’t bring himself to believe it. A hand circled under his chin, and he was forced to look up at his tio. “Camilo, there is nothing wrong with you.”

“But there is. It’s not normal, it’s not… It’s not normal, Bruno. I shouldn’t be…”

“Not being normal doesn’t make it inherently wrong. Dios mio, look at this family, Camilo. There’s not a single normal thing here.” To drive the point home, the floor underneath him shifted, throwing a puff of sand into his face. He had to giggle.

“But that’s different, right? The gifts, they were specifically meant to do good. With this, with me—”

“If you ask me, I think this is something specifically meant to do good by you. That’s no less important than doing good by anyone else.” He sighed, and slumped again.

“Are you done with my hair?”

“That depends on if you like it, but I can always take it down. Do you want to leave?” He sniffled, and clamored to his feet.

“No, just wanna lay down.” He collapsed face-first into his tio’s pillows, hugging one to his face and smiling at the familiar, naturally comforting smell.

“Ah…”

“Is that okay?” Bruno huffed, and pushed his legs over to sit against the wall.

“Of course, niño. Comfortable?” He nodded, but rolled around until he could lay his head across his lap.

“Comfortable.” Bruno’s smile was soft, and genuine, and it made him feel warm. He just closed his eyes with a sigh. “Do you think I would get in trouble if I told anyone else?”

“Honestly, that depends on who you tell. Your abuela, absolutely. I promise she won’t do anything, we would never let her or anyone else hurt you, but she would be very upset. The rest of the family, especially the other kids, I think they would be more understanding.”

"You wouldn't let me get hurt?"

"Never. Me, your parents, your tia and tio, none of us would ever let any of you kids get hurt. Your sister and your primas would always protect you, too, just as you would for them." He sighed, and ran a hand over his forehead. "Your abuela wouldn't let you be hurt, either, and she wouldn't hurt you. She does care about you, about all of us, she's just…"

"Having something bad happen to you doesn't excuse treating people like that." He opened his eyes, and shrugged. "That's what Isa says, at least."

"That's true, but… She's trying. I understand if you can't forgive her, but she is trying."

"She treated you worse than any of us, and for way longer. I don't think you should be the one defending her." Bruno sighed again.

"Don't worry about me, niño." Camilo frowned, but didn't respond, running a hand over his hair to feel the small braids holding the top back.

"I almost told the girls the other day."

"About your vision?" He nodded. "But you didn't?"

"No. We were talking about other things. I just… Almost let it slip. It was kinda a similar topic." He took a breath. "They said I should talk to you about that, too, though."

"If you want to."

"I really, really don't." He grabbed his tio's hand, resting on his chest. "I think my gift is messing with my head. They said you'd understand more than anyone else."

"I can listen, at least."

"But what if it makes you think there's something wrong with me?" Bruno frowned, and after a long moment, pulled Camilo up to sit. He stayed on the man's lap, but was suddenly a lot closer to sad, pained eyes.

"Camilo, there is nothing wrong about having emotions. There's no shame in it. Even if they're negative, or embarrassing, or if you just don't understand them. That's why you need to talk it through sometimes." He leaned his head on Bruno's shoulder, sighing. "You don't have to talk to me, but please, Camilo, don't keep it to yourself just because you're scared of how people will react."

"You literally ran away from your problems instead of talking about them. I don't know if you're the best person to say that." Bruno squeezed him slightly, and rested his own cheek against Camilo's hair.

"That's why I'm telling you. I'm an awful person to look at for good decisions, niño."

"Yeah, noted." He chuckled, grabbing Bruno's hand again, and just holding it. The man was so thin, and it showed in every part of his body, as Camilo carefully traced his thumb over knobby joints poking through thin skin. "I don't know what's happening to me."

"You'll have to elaborate on that one."

"Have you…" He sighed, and held his hand to his chest, letting his eyes close. "I look in a mirror, and I don't see myself. Every time I think about what I look like, it's like… Itchy, under my skin, and it hurts. It's like I'm going insane, I don't know what's happening."

"What do you want to look like?" He blinked his eyes open again, and leaned back to stare at his tio. "What would make you feel like yourself?"

"I… Don't know. I've never thought about that." Bruno hummed, and squeezed his arm again before pushing him to stand. Casita shoved a large mirror in their direction, and Camilo winced. "Tio, I don't like to—"

"Shh. You're alright. What do you like to look at?" Camilo leaned back into him, focusing on the hands on his shoulders.

"I don't…"

"Look, Camilo. Think." He took a long minute to just stare at himself, feeling his throat get tight, and his mouth go dry. He didn't even notice how he was scratching at his arm, until Bruno carefully took his hand.

"I… Like my eyes," he finally whispered, sighing. "I think they're pretty."

"They are. You get the green from your mama, but the two tones are unique to you, and it's beautiful. What else?"

"My hair." He smiled, turning a bit to see how it spilled out under the braids in the back. "Especially when it's done up pretty. But, I like the curls, even though they're hard to deal with. They're still really pretty."

"Do you know how to braid it yourself?" He shook his head.

"Dolores has done it a few times, but Abuela never let me learn, and always makes me take it out when she does."

"I'll teach you, if you want. I'm sure Dolores would be happy too, as well, but I wouldn't want her getting in trouble with Abuela, so it's up to her." Camilo smiled, and sighed softly.

"I like my clothes. I actually do really like the yellow, it makes me happy." He frowned, and pressed closer to his tio. "I— I don't like my body."

"Why not?"

"I…" He shook his head slightly. "I don't— some days it's fine, some days I like the way I look, but others, I can't— every time I look at myself, I wanna throw up."

"Is today one of those days?" He shrugged, and after a moment, nodded.

"Why? What don't you like?" He sputtered for a minute, trying his best to put it into words. "Can you show me?"

"I… Can shift, I guess."

"It's up to you. I don't want to make you uncomfortable." He shook his head, and grabbed Bruno's hands, basically forcing the man to hug him.

"I can't. I… Can we go lay down again? I don't wanna…" Bruno turned him around to hold him tighter, and gently kissed his temple.

"You're alright, niño." He cuddled into his tio's chest, sighing.

"My chest bothers me a lot." Bruno pulled away just enough to look him in the eye, and Camilo had to take another breath to keep from avoiding it. "Like I said, some days it's fine. Some days, I think I'd feel the same way if it was… Y'know. But— but like today, it bothers me a lot."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not like it's your fault. You see things happen, not make them happen."

"That's not what I mean. I just… Wish you could feel better. Wish I could help you." Camilo smiled, and squirmed away to go back to the bed.

"You are." He flopped down, sprawling out. "It feels… Lighter, I guess. Knowing that someone knows, and that you aren't going to tell." Bruno leaned the mirror back against the wall, and sat next to him.

"I'm glad. I just want you to be safe." Camilo nodded slightly.

"When is everyone else getting back?" Bruno shrugged. "I'm tired."

"I'd bet. Do you want to go back to your room?" He hummed.

"Not really. Not alone."

"Do you want me to stay with you, while you get some sleep? We can go to the living room, if you don't want me in your room, or stay in here." Camilo slowly sat up, frowning a bit.

"Living room?"

"As long as you'll get some sleep."

--

He honestly didn't even think his tia thought about it, when she said it. Just a passing comment, not the first she had made, and not the last. But for him, chewing apart pieces of dried mango, "like a dog, Camilo, use your hands," legs dangling off the chair as Julieta baked, it was something that fully ignited a flame deep in him.

"Mami says I'm travieso."

"Does she, now? What provoked that?" There was a knowing lilt to her voice, but he didn't care. Of course she knew, Dolores told all the adults, like the traitor she was.

"I tried to leave the Encanto," he repeated, with the same drawn out, thoroughly chastised tone he had when reciting it to his parents. "It was only once! I promise. I just wanna see. Isabela said there's a whole world out there! Why can't I go see, just once?"

"It's dangerous, Camilo, especially for little boys all alone, who don't tell their parents where they are." She refilled his dish, this time with fresh, squishy chunks that got juice all over his hand as he shoveled them into his mouth.

"That's what Mami and Papi said. Dangerous things, and dangerous people, who would find a little boy all alone and take me away," he repeated, rolling his eyes. It was only a little ways, and he knew the way back.

"And it's very true. That's why we stay in the Encanto, where it's safe, and there are always people to help you." She sighed, and shook her head, a little bit of a laugh seeping into her voice. "You just remind me so much of my brother."

"Tio Bruno?" His eyes trailed to the painting above the table, to the faded green in between his mama and his tia. "What about him?"

"He was the same way, when we were younger. Disappearing for a night, coming stumbling back down the mountains in the morning. We had to hide it from our mama so much. Of course, she found out eventually.” Camilo set his bowl down, and leaned forward.

“What was he doing?”

“Going to the city, meeting people, getting into trouble. He was a terror in our teens. I think that’s where you get it from.”

Bruno. It was like a myth, a curse. He only ever heard of the man in the same vein as the boogeyman stories his mama and papa used to tell him to keep him from wandering off, or playing in the river unsupervised, or sneaking around after dark. He wasn’t real, even if he had so many memories of him. He was a mischievous teenager? Camilo took after him?

It felt like a warning.