Chapter Text
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“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”
Bruno’s folded hands rested on the wooden armrest as he kneeled in the confined space of the confessional, the dim candlelight did nothing to hide the deep creases of remorse chiseled onto his face.
“It has been…” he paused as he thought about it, “a really, really long time since my last confession.”
15 years? Or even longer? At one point he stopped trying to ask for forgiveness, and when the old priest passed and the young (and already balding) Padre Flores took over, he figured he wasn’t welcome anymore. Unwelcome in the house of God, it couldn’t get more ironic than that, Bruno thought.
‘What sins?’ one may ask, and it was a good question. Because ‘sin’ was a broad term, but to Bruno it described almost everything he did in his day-to-day life. Of course, some actions were more sinful than others. He fooled around in his youth, even as his reputation started to crumble there were enough young women who chased him for the thrill his image provided. The ‘bad guy’ Bruno Madrigal, who was just as mysterious as his visions. He wasn’t proud of it, but at that time he didn't care - or cared too much. A plump pair of lips did wonders to help him forget his worries, even if it was only for a short amount of time.
But after some time the guilt ate him up and he stopped giving in to these temptations, he distanced himself even further from the community, and any confidence the female attention brought him wilted away into nothing. Then he drank too much, but it was too obvious and dangerous with all the stairs in his room, so he also stopped with that. He lied to his family all the time. When they asked if he would join them for dinner he said, “I’m not hungry.” To questions about his well-being, he always answered with “I’m fine, just a little tired.” Lies, lies, lies. Sins, sins, sins.
Those sins weighed him down the most, but the less terrible sins accumulated until they threatened to crush his conscience.
A greeting he didn't return because his voice caught in his throat? Sin. The one time he broke a plate when he helped set the table? Also a sin. Deep down he knew it was ridiculous to label every little mishap as a sin, but he couldn't stop even if he wanted to - and he wanted to.
He never planned to return and kneel on the same bench he found himself so many times before, with his head down in shame and unable to face the shape of the priest on the other side of the lattice.
“These are my sins,” he started as his mind walked down a long path of past events while avoiding lingering too long on particular memories. “I hurt many people in my lifetime, always unintentionally, of course. I would never harm someone willingly, that’s the last thing I want, but… that's all I ever do.”
Bruno listed up everything - events that dated back years and still plagued him, small instances that happened recently; on the way here he accidentally bumped shoulders with someone, and even if he apologized three times to them he felt like he deserved God's wrath for his clumsiness. And if he didn't deserve it for that, he certainly would for the next thing he was about to confess. The reason he came back here in the first place.
His heart pounded in his chest, a frantic beat that was perfect for someone just as unsteady as Bruno. “Father, I did something unforgivable.”
He didn't care how the priest said something about how God is all-forgiving and there is no sin too great, it fell on deaf ears. He wasn't open to the possibility of him being forgiven anything . But what was he doing here if not for the prospect of receiving mercy? That, he didn't know. He remained kneeling, cleared his throat, and continued,
“I ruined someone’s life. I ruined it to the point they think there is no hope left for them, they think it can’t get better anymore and it’s completely my fault. I don’t know what to do… I just-” A sharp pain in his chest stole his breath for a second, but he pushed through the discomfort - it was just a foretaste of what would await him in hell anyway. “I just don’t know. She doesn't deserve this. How… how can I make things right?”
This time Bruno did listen to Padre Floresʼ words and he immediately regretted it, he offered him bible verses that would certainly console a devout believer and in the end, he gave him a penance fitting for someone who accidentally took the Lord's name in vain: ten Hail Marys and he would be forgiven.
He shook his head and muttered, “It's not enough…”
Thirty Hail Marys then, and offering someone he wasn't related to, to help them with something. Maybe they need help with building a new fence or something like that.
From there on it was a back-and-forth between Bruno and the priest, he wanted a suitable punishment and Padre Flores added more and more prayers and when his penance reached 1000 Hail Marys, something in Bruno snapped.
“It’s not enough!” He slammed his hands against the lattice and the priest’s back hit the wall of the booth when he shied away from Bruno's sudden violent outburst. “No matter how many Hail Marys I say or how often I help someone repair their roof or carry home their groceries, it won’t be enough! It won't help her.”
Bruno struggled to stand up after kneeling for so long, and as he ignored the priest's advice to ‘ calm down and allow God into his heart so he would see he was worthy of being freed from his guilt ’, he recklessly pushed the door of the confessional open without receiving absolution and was out the church in a matter of seconds. Only when he had put a good distance between him and God did he stop to lean against a wall to catch his breath. It was just a short sprint but he felt completely winded, his shoulders heaved and he buckled over as a coughing fit overtook him by surprise. When it ended he shakily straightened back up and ran a hand over his face to collect himself.
By the time his breathing and swirling thoughts slowed down, the full realization of how he just acted in front of the town priest hit him like a ton of bricks and he bent over again as bile threatened to rise up his throat. He slapped a hand over his mouth and breathed through his nose, deep and steady breaths to calm his body until he was sure he wouldnʼt throw up as soon as his hand left his mouth. If he thought he felt depleted earlier, then he was absolutely and utterly exhausted at this point. He needed some coffee or his bed, but something kept him from going back to the campsite and getting some much-needed rest, so he wandered in the opposite direction, away from his home and family.
Bruno was walking aimlessly around the village with no desire to reach any destination any time soon. He went through back alleys to avoid the curious stares from the villagers who still weren’t used to him being around again after so many years, not that he was much around the town before his disappearance.
The sun stood high in the sky and burned down on him, his hair was sticking to his forehead and he could swear his surroundings looked brighter than normal, it hurt his eyes. He didn't question why he had to take a break from simply walking around town for a bit, he blamed it on the heat. And the aching muscles came from working tirelessly on rebuilding his family home, that must be it. He was just about to sit down on a crate when he heard someone cry out.
“Oh no! The cabbages!” a young voice shouted from behind a corner, and when Bruno rounded it he was met with the sight of a boy struggling to pick up multiple cabbages at once.
Bruno looked around to see if someone was coming to assist the boy, but he was quick to realize he was the only other person around.
He pulled a pocket watch out of his pants to check the time and when it showed it was a quarter past twelve he knew why. It was currently lunchtime and everyone had returned home to their families to eat together, chat, drink some coffee or maybe even take a nap. The boy was probably sent to the marketplace to get a few last things before it would close. With a sigh, he slid the watch back into his pocket and approached the boy, although a bit hesitantly. “Uh, hey… do you need any help?” he offered with an awkward smile, afraid he would scare him off and have him tell everyone how a ‘creepy’ man in green tried to talk him up. That was the last thing Bruno wanted or needed. “What happened?”
Luckily the youngster wasn’t big on stranger danger and treated him like he would any other villager. “The basket broke.” His foot nudged the mentioned basket on the ground as he said this, doing his best to balance four big cabbages in his arms while he was trying to pick up a fifth. Just as he reached out for it, two tumbled out of his arms and rolled away.
The boy groaned in frustration as he watched them roll into different directions.“How am I going to carry them all home now?”
“I can carry them for you, just,” Bruno grabbed the lower front of his ruana and held it up, creating a space just perfect for putting things –like five cabbages– in, “put them here, almost as good as a basket, eh?”
“Wow! You’re right, thank you!” He beamed up at Bruno and made quick work of picking up everything to put it into the makeshift basket.
For what reason someone needed five cabbages was a mystery to Bruno, but he didn't want to ask about the boy's family eating habits so he just said, “Don’t mention it. Where do you live?”
“Not too far from here,” the boy answered and put the last cabbage into Bruno's care. “I mean, it’s a bit far but like, not so far that I would say it’s far far.”
Bruno chuckled softly at the vague description but let it count. “Okay, okay, got it. Lead the way.”
While he followed the boy -he learned his name was Emilio and he was almost eight- his ears got basically talked off, he didn't even get the chance to introduce himself. Maybe it was better this way, he thought. Getting bombarded with facts about beetles was probably just possible because the young boy didn't know who he was talking to.
He was grateful for the temporary distraction, and even though the majority of his thoughts still lingered inside the confessional, he already felt a little bit better. And because he knew this feeling wouldn’t stay for long he allowed himself to indulge in it, just for a short while. Not being recognized was a breath of fresh air.
While Emilio was cheerfully monologuing, Bruno listened patiently and offered hums and nods of acknowledgment when the time was right, sometimes he even got a word in.
As they were walking past a white house wall Bruno slowed down until he came to a full stop, staring in disbelief at the blank wall.
When Emilio noticed Bruno had stopped following after him, he called out, “Señor? What’s wrong?”
“There was a mural here,” he replied. When he looked down at Emilio who was back at his side to check out what he meant, he asked him, “When did they overpaint it?”
“Huh?” Emilio tilted his head as he curiously studied the blank wall before he said, “There’s never been a mural here. And I should know, I walk past this house almost every day.”
“No, no, I’m sure it was here…” he muttered, frantically searching the wall for something that was left of it - of her. Just like his family had a mural dedicated to them and their magical powers, (y/n) also got one. She was never a fan of the mural the village created for her after she got her powers and even he agreed it was a bit over the top, but it was a way for the people to show their appreciation for her work, so she didn't outright voice her complaints. To them.
“It's way too big, and where did they get the idea to give me a freaking halo?” She huffed as she stood before the freshly painted mural with her hands on her hips. Bruno stood closely behind her and looked over her shoulder, assessing the newest artwork in the Encanto.
She was depicted in a white dress, her eyes glowed in a warm shade of yellow, and a gracious smile on her lips completed the angelic look. And, well, the halo the artist chose to give her also added some heavenly aspect to it.
“Come on, kiddo, it's not that bad. Even though I think a halo looks kinda wrong on you,” he picked two strands of her hair and raised them a bit over her head, imitating horns. “Devils horns were the obvious choice if you ask me.”
He laughed when she swatted his hands away, and let out a pained ‘oof’ when she hit him in the ribs. “See? You’re the devil,” he grimaced as he massaged the spot her elbow made contact with.
She smirked devilishly as she played into her given role, “Lucifer was an archangel after all, so maybe you’re right.”
They looked at each other in silence for a moment before they burst out in laughter, having to lean on the other to not lose balance. The past few days she had been feeling quite on edge because of this whole mural thing and he was happy to see her finally relax a little. And as he wiped away a tear he hoped this would never end; the banter, the support, the silent understanding.
She patted his shoulder, still slightly snickering. “Anyway, I have to go. You know, home visits. Will I see you at the usual place later or do you have something better to do?”
Bruno pulled out an invisible book and flipped through the imaginary pages. “I’ll have to check my schedule. Let's see, 1 am, 1 am… ah, you’re lucky I can fit you in.” When she rolled her eyes at his silly antics he tucked the ‘book’ back into his ruana and said, “I’ll wait for you at the bridge, you know I don’t want you wandering into the forest on your own.”
She ignored him and his concern and was already making her way to her next appointment. She called over her shoulder, “See you later, Bru- ah, wait, can you–”
“I’ll bring you some leftovers from dinner, don’t worry.”
She turned to smile at him. “What would I do without you?”
“You would probably starve while being eaten by a jaguar,” he responded. Before she rounded the corner he reminded her, “Be careful. And take breaks!”
“Can you stop worrying for one second?”
“Nope!”
Emilio raised one eyebrow at Bruno who had been staring at the wall for a full minute now without saying anything and he didn't react to being talked to. So the boy tugged at his sleeve to get his attention. “Señor? Are you okay?”
Bruno snapped out of his thoughts and scanned his surroundings, confused about his whereabouts for a second. When he met Emilio’s concerned eyes he remembered. “Ah, yes, I’m fine. It's just…” He decided to not continue this topic any further, he didn't want to confuse the boy with things that didn't concern him. “I really thought there was a mural here at some point but I guess my memory is playing tricks on me.”
Emilio nodded in agreement. “That could be it, you’re preeetty old after all!”
“I’m not that old,” he grumbled, the brutal honesty of kids was just that: brutal. Demoralizing and destroying, even. He knew he looked older, he was older, there was no point in denying it. He entered the walls with black hair and a few faint lines on his face and left the same walls with gray streaks all over his head and enough wrinkles to give away just how much time he spent worrying over the consequences of his actions.
Emilio didn't say anything else and was already back to happily skipping in the direction of his home, stopping at a road fork to wave at Bruno to signal him to hurry up and follow him.
Bruno’s feet moved before he was fully ready to part with the spot where his memory took place, and just as his mind had lingered in the church earlier, it now chose to stay here a little while longer.
For the rest of the walk, Bruno tried to make sense of Emilio’s nonlinear stories, it kept him so occupied that he didn't even realize they reached their destination until they were standing before a house with a red-painted door.
Bruno's heart sank into his stomach when he recognized this particular shade of red, and when his eyes fell onto a copper doorknob he was closer to a heart attack than ever before. For most people, forty was too young to die, but Bruno seriously considered it for a moment.
“Are- are you sure you live here?” Bruno stammered out, sweat forming on his forehead and panic tightened his throat when Emilio’s hand clasped around the doorknob.
“Yep.” He didn’t pay Bruno’s odd behavior any mind as he opened the door and loudly announced, “Mamá, I’m back and I brought a guest!”
The boy ushered Bruno inside and into the kitchen where he helped him put away the cabbages. Bruno, finally freed from his temporary duty as a vegetable carrier, smoothed out his ruana while his eyes nervously darted around the kitchen - in frantic search of anything that could help him get through the next moments. He also thought about escaping through the window for a short moment, but in the end, he chose to stay; after all, he was done with running away. He silently cursed at his past self and his newfound bravery. Or rather stupidity.
While Bruno was battling with himself, Emilio had left him alone in the kitchen to get his mother. “The basket broke and he helped me carry the cabbages all the way here!” The excitement of the boy echoed through the hallway.
Bruno visibly flinched when a familiar voice answered Emilio, and the window looked more and more inviting by the second. Was it too late to sneak out?
“Oh, how nice of hi–”
Yes, definitely too late. In the doorway to the kitchen stood a middle-aged woman in her late forties, her graying hair pulled up into a tight bun and her hard gaze was fixed on him - the person who was at fault for her daughter's situation.
“Bruno.” What was supposed to be his name sounded like a curse word as it left the woman's lips, her expression calm and collected but her eyes stared daggers into him and he felt every one of them.
Bruno's frame shrunk under her eyes and he fumbled for the right thing to say. There was no right thing to say. “H-hola, Señora Vergara… it’s nice to–”
“Emilio, go to your room.” No more words were needed. The boy was out of the kitchen in seconds, but not before he threw a questioning and simultaneously apologizing glance toward Bruno.
When she heard the door of her son’s room shut close she wasted no time charging in Bruno's direction. Only the kitchen table between them kept her from jumping at him, Bruno was sure of it.
“How dare you come to my home after everything you did,” she hissed, enraged but still cautious to not raise her voice in fear Emilio could hear her.
Bruno caught on quickly and feverishly whispered back, “I’m extremely sorry! I didn't–”
“If I see you even as much as glance at my son again…” An unspoken threat hung in the air and it was clear she would act on it if she had to. “Keep away from my family.”
“I didn’t know he was–”
She threw a cooking spoon at him that missed him by a hair, what was the deal with the woman in this family that they always had to hurl stuff at him? “Was it not enough that you ruined her?”
Now, Bruno could understand why she was mad at him, but that was no excuse to say things like that. Not about her . Not in front of him. Yes, he ruined her life but that didn’t devalue her as a person.
“She isn’t ruined,” he firmly stated. “She’s not a thing that’s broken, how can you talk about her like that? She is your daughter .”
“My daughter is gone and it’s your fault only.”
It stung, the true part stung terribly - it ripped his heart apart. He pushed the feeling aside, he could tend to his heart later, or what was left of it.
“What do you mean she’s ‘gone’, last time I checked she’s been living in her great-uncle's cabin for the past ten years all on her own,” his voice was low but his gestures were those of a yelling mad man, broad and wide. He willed himself to calm down when an idea manifested in his head. “Señora, I know how you feel about me but if we work together maybe we can get her to come back - to come home.”
“What makes you think she’s welcome here,” she scoffed. “There’s a good reason why she isn’t wanted in the village anymore.”
“I heard about what happened, but Agustín doesn’t blame her and I’m sure I can talk to my mother, and–”
“Enough,” she yelled. She immediately realized her mistake and her voice dropped back into a low but fierce whisper, “Someone like her doesn’t have a place in our community. I have a son to think about and she is not safe to be around. And if Emilio finds out about her because of you… you’ll wish you never crawled back out of those rotten walls, do I make myself clear?”
He wanted to say so much more to her, keeping his mouth shut while she spewed lies right into his face was so difficult to the point it hurt his jaw. It wasn’t her claiming her daughter was dangerous or unwelcome that made his blood boil, no, but that she had completely erased her from existence to the point her son didn’t even know he had a bigger sister was sickening to learn. The whole village had to play along too, even his own family… Was it really so easy for them to turn their back on her?
He wasn't dumb, he knew now wasn’t the time to fight, so Bruno sealed his lips into a tight line and nodded - it was one of the hardest things he had ever done.
“Good,” she spat, pointing to the door. “You know the way out.”
He kept his head low as he walked out of the house and onto the street. Before he hurried past the green shutters he pulled the hood of his ruana up, he couldn't stomach the sight of them. But right as he walked by, the window opened and Emilio stuck his head out.
“Señor!” he whispered so his mother had no opportunity to hear him, “I wanted to thank you again for helping me.”
Bruno stopped dead in his tracks and he almost turned around to face Emilio, but then… he simply walked away without uttering a single word to him, his eyes fixed on the path, not daring to look up until he was sure the house was out of sight.
For the second time today, he trudged through the village’s streets without a direction in mind - it had better things to do than to guide him to his home or his family. He wasn’t even sure how he should act when his feet would eventually bring him back to them, should he act as if nothing happened? In the past, it would’ve been expected from him, but now as his family tried to change for the better, maybe it was time for him to open up… and also get some answers.
He wiped some sweat off his forehead and staggered slightly, the events of today- of the last few days left him drained; his body worked overtime to help rebuild Casita, the want to show his worth greater than the need for rest, and his heart and soul? It was a constant battle between healing and breaking. Healing, because his family –his sisters and mother especially– did everything to make sure he knew how glad they were to have him back, and he melted into every hug and caring touch without a second thought.
And the breaking part? No one had outright apologized to him, not that he thought he actually deserved an apology. And still, it was hard to accept that he probably would never get one.
But nothing compared to the pain he felt when he was confronted with the hard truth: His only friend hated him and for a good reason. He destroyed her life. And the realization was killing him.
He had been wandering around for a while when he lifted his eyes from the ground to check where his feet had led him. His eyes widened when he recognized where he was. His body couldn't have been crueler to him; why was he here ?
The bridge; where he would wait for her - or she for him, depending on who got there first. It was him usually, but she never made him wait long.
Right behind it was the forest and if he followed this path for a bit and turned right after some time, he would soon reach the usual place. And if he would go even further, he would reach her cabin shortly after sunset. And then?
What then?
He would stand in front of her door with one hand raised only to lower it again, too afraid to knock, too afraid to face her. He would repeat this multiple times and with each failed attempt he would hate himself a little more. And even if he succeeded, would she open the door? And how would she react? Would the hellfire in her eyes light bright as soon as she saw him and give away how much anguish he brought her? Alone the thought of it made him shudder so violently that he had to grab the railing of the bridge for support. His heart raced. His lungs burned. His thoughts muddled, his knees buckled and only the tight grip on the railing stopped him from falling over.
“Hey, Bruno, are you okay?”
He whirled around at the sound of her voice, startled, and lo and behold, she was standing before him; not a day older than fifteen, or was she sixteen? It was so hard to tell, her form blurred in front of his eyes. But her sudden youthfulness didn't matter to him, he was just too happy to see her. There was no glow in her eyes. She was okay.
"You seem a bit exhausted, maybe you should go home and rest. I can go by myself, you don’t have to accompany me if you don’t feel well.”
“I’m… fine, you know how I feel about you going into the forest on your own,” he answered, his words a bit slurred. He looked down at his hands and his eyebrows furrowed when they were empty. Didn't he say he would bring her something to eat? She always preferred Julieta’s food over her mother’s. His brain was all over the place today. “I- I’m sorry, I didn’t bring you any leftovers.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she assured him and placed a hand on his shoulder. She wasn’t mad, instead, a slight worry crossed her features when he trembled under her touch. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? You’re shivering, are you cold?”
Was he? Shivering? Cold? Yes… no, he felt like he was on fire. She told him once feelings were scorching hot, they would burn someone down if they were allowed to grow for too long. It wasn’t too hard to imagine, but now he knew exactly what she meant and how she felt after using her Gift. This was pure torture. It brought him to his knees, and this time it felt right to be in this position; if someone was qualified to judge him it was her. The person who suffered the most under the consequences of his actions.
“Kiddo, I’m so sorry,” his voice was that of a dying man; raspy and weak and full of regret. “I messed up, and- and that’s putting it lightly. God, I’m so sorry for what I did to you.”
He didn't look her in the eyes as he was too afraid of what could burn in them; in his burned tears.
“You never did something you need to apologize for, except for the one time you ate the last arepa,” she joked lightly. When Bruno made no sign of laughing, she sighed and sat down beside him. “You’re the best friend someone could ask for, you’re always so caring and attentive to the point it can get kinda annoying. But Bruno, that’s what I need you for. I don’t know what I would do without you. You’re always there for me.”
Her last sentence made him choke on a sob, he wasn't there when she needed him. He ran like a coward and she was paying the price.
“He’s here! I found him!” a voice called out, followed by a pair of brisk steps and someone crouching down in front of him.
“Bruno? Are you okay?” Pepa cupped his cheek, her hand cool and soothing against his heated skin. The back of her other hand quickly flew up to his forehead and she gasped at the hotness of it. “He’s burning up. We have to get him home, Félix, now.”
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered hoarsely, ignoring his sister as his unfocused eyes searched for his friend. Where was she? She was just there a second ago. He began to panic, what if she decided to go into the forest on her own? Soon, it would get dark and if there was one thing that made him anxious it was the thought of her in a forest after sunset, it brought back memories he’d rather forget. He had to go after her and–
Her hand brushed some hair out of his face, she was now on his other side, or has she always been on this side? She was so caring and motherly at times despite being so young. Every time she complained about him being overbearing he shot back at least three instances where she had been the overbearing one in this friendship. “And I’m always there for you.”
He weakly shook his head and winced when an excruciating pain shot through his head at the little motion. “You’re a terrible liar…”
Pepa and Félix traded a concerned look at Bruno's delusional muttering, he was completely unaware of their presence and stared at an empty spot beside him, talking to someone only he could see.
“Not always.” She smiled at him, sadness edging around the corners of her lips. She looked so mature now all of a sudden, when did she grow up? Where did the time go?
Her sad smile was the last thing Bruno saw before the darkness fully closed in on him, he didn't feel how Félix picked him up or hear how Pepa was muttering a chant of clear skies to calm herself down as she followed closely behind them.
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