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He came from the mountains.
He, being a nerdy city man named Bubo Marquez, who stood out like a sore thumb in the Encanto. Mainly due to how much his modern look contrasted with the traditional feel of the Encanto (though his introverted personality didn't help).
But due to the fall of Casita, no one noticed the strange newcomer at first.
In fact, it took several days after he first came from the cracks in the mountains for anyone at all to notice him.
Mariano trudged home from an incredibly grueling day of trying to rebuild La Casa Madrigal from scratch.
Many of the other townsfolk around him were also exhausted, yawning and stumbling home, but it was all worth it, to help his fianceé…er, not fianceé, Isabela’s family.
As Mariano looked around to distract himself from those thoughts, he noticed something.
A man, who he had never seen before. Ever.
The Encanto hadn’t had a new person arrive in near thirty years (the last being Isabela’s father, Agustín Rojas Valdez).
Mariano was on guard immediately.
The man didn’t look like a threat…at all. He looked around Mariano’s age (though his height would beg to differ), and had thick dark hair, even thicker glasses, and brown eyes. His clothes were…odd. Mariano didn’t think he’d ever seen such garments in his life.
The man was clearly sketching something, his rather large nose tucked into a book.
Fearing for the safety of the Encanto, Mariano decided to see what this stranger was all about.
“Uh, hello there?” Mariano approached the man.
The man jumped slightly, somehow banging his head on one of the long hanging gutters that Señor Fibroso still hadn't fixed. “Ay, hola señor!”
“Hola.” Mariano looked around, like he was expecting more foreigners to show up. “What are…what are you doing here?”
“Sketching. I've never seen these types of plants before, they're beautiful.” The big haired stranger replied distractedly, gesturing to some of Isabela's old plants—one hand still resting on the book he was drawing in. He had a bindle with him and his clothes (his shoes especially) all looked worn, old, and dirty despite the fact they were definitely a newer style than any of that from the Encanto.
“No, I mean–” Mariano resisted the urge to facepalm. “What are you doing here? In this town. No one’s been through here in thirty years.”
“...am I not allowed?” The man looked confused for a moment, before his confusion morphed into panic and embarrassment as he scrambled to his feet. “Lo siento, lo siento señor. I meant no harm—I didn't know.”
Okay, maybe Mariano felt a little bad for coming on so strong. He held up both of his hands. “Oye, it’s alright! It’s just…no one here is used to strangers, see?”
The man just looked more confused and more nervous—and yeah, he definitely wasn't a threat. “Sí…? I can leave if you desear–”
“Do you have anywhere else to go?” Mariano interrupted. Judging by his tattered clothes, he was willing to bet that the answer was no.
The stranger’s silence and the way he shifted, looking down at his feet, only confirmed Mariano's suspicion.
It would be several more months before anyone other than Mariano's family noticed the man from the mountains.
It was only fitting that it would be the poet who inducted him into the rest of the Encanto.
Mariano entered Casita's construction site with another young man in tow—one who looked out of place next to someone like Mariano.
And one who no one else recognized.
Pepa noticed first. “Oye, Mariano! Who…who is that?!” Pepa instinctively glanced up, as if she was expecting a cloud.
Mariano looked away from the other young man, causing whatever conversation they'd been having to cease and when he noticed it was her talking to him, he smiled and waved. Patting the other man on the back as he introduced him. “This is my new amigo, Bubo Marquez.”
Pepa’s eye twitched. “Where. Did he. Come from?” She smiled waaay too wide, and spoke through gritted teeth.
That was when Dolores came in. “Mamá calm down, he's been here for months and hasn't done anything.”
Pepa’s eye continued to twitch. “Great. Gracias, for that insight, niña.”
‘Bubo’ squirmed under her gaze but Mariano, either used to the behavior or oblivious to the man's discomfort, just moved them forward. “He wanted to help with the construction since he has la vivencia.”
That made Pepa interested. “You have experience in building? Or architecture?”
“Both. Mi abuelo was a builder and I often assisted him on his jobs, and I'm, uh, fond of architecture.” The man explained nervously, adjusting his glasses slightly.
Pepa started talking. “Oh, what a relief! Nobody under the age of seventy in this town knows how to properly build a house without magic!”
Mariano grinned and clapped Bubo on the back. “See, amigo, I told you your expertise would be appreciated!”
A few weeks went by, and Bubo Marquez, the stranger to the Encanto, started to become slightly less of a stranger.
He was acquainted fairly well with the Guzmáns at that point, and with the Madrigals, though them a bit less so.
It appeared that one of the town’s top priorities was rebuilding the Madrigal house, which was a little strange, but Bubo decided not to question it.
It was during one of those building sessions that he ended up talking with the elder Madrigals. They had been discussing plans for one of the kids'—Elmira? Mira? Miracle? Mirabel— rooms because apparently she hadn't had one before for some reason.
Bubo didn't ask why.
He'd just nodded his head and added an outline for another room.
“Where did you study architecture, Bubo?” One of the Madrigal men—Augustín, maybe? Asked as he watched Bubo draw the outline.
“Bogotá.”
“Really?! That’s where I’m from!” Augustín almost jumped in excitement, and ended up banging his knee on the table, sending pencils flying everywhere.
Bubo absentmindedly collected them, humming in response. “Sí. I grew up there with my familia till I left.”
Augustín’s wife—he thought her name was something like Julieta—cocked her head at Bubo as she rubbed her husband’s poor knee. “Why did you leave Bogotá? If you don’t mind my asking, Señor Marquez.”
The young architect froze at the question. “Um, I just wanted to explore.”
Julieta studied him for a moment, clearly not believing him. She decided to change the subject, however. “Well, Colombia sure is full of surprising places to explore.”
He perked up at the out and nodded excitedly. “Sí. I've been to many places before the Encanto: though none are quite as lovely as it and nowhere with people as nice as here.”
“Gracias for that, but I know firsthand that the locals here can be a bit…touchy, around new people.”
Bubo didn't look bothered in the slightest as he returned back to the blueprints. “Sí but I haven't been chased off or been forced to move my carpa or had my things taken since I've been here.”
The silence after he said that was deafening. “Has that…happened to you before?” Augustín hesitated.
“Other villages don't take too kindly to vagrants and do whatever they can to get them to leave. Even if we're just traveling.” The younger man replied, nonchalantly—as if he hadn't just revealed earth shattering information. As if the treatment didn't bother him.
“Dios mio, that is awful.” Julieta couldn’t imagine chasing away people in need.
None of them could.
Even Alma and Agustín who had grown up outside of the Encanto couldn't fathom the idea. Let alone treating a young traveler so horribly just because he set up camp in the village.
“Was everywhere you went like that?” Augustín hadn’t been a part of the larger world for a long while.
“Some places were better than others. But for the most part the villagers just wanted me to leave as soon as possible. How big do you want the room to be?”
The red flags only seemed to increase after the elder Madrigals’ conversation with the young not-stranger.
Bubo was skittish.
He would always wait to speak until he was spoken to, and if he wasn’t addressed directly, it was like he wasn’t even there.
If someone talked over him by accident, he would stop speaking immediately, and wouldn’t get back to his point unless explicitly asked.
When the topic of family was brought up, he gave as little information as possible.
And that wasn't even the end of the various red flags.
“¡MALDITOS NIÑOS DE ESTOS DÍAS, NUNCA QUERÉIS AYUDAR NI RESPETAR A VUESTROS MAYORES!” Someone was yelling in the market.
Luisa sighed as she heard the shouts. She was exhausted, but she figured she’d better find out what all the fuss was about.
She headed towards Señor Delgado’s fruit stall, where the sounds were coming from. Señor Delgado was an old man, who for whatever reason, despised the youth of the Encanto. He was always yelling at some poor kid unfortunate enough to be near his stand.
And today, it was Bubo.
Who was supposed to be at Casita.
Bubo, who was stiff as a board and staring off into space as the elder continued to shout and swear at him. “In my day, if I didn't help an elder my padre would have cuffed me by the ear! You should be ashamed of yourself, you delinquent!”
Luisa sighed. So it was gonna be one of those interactions. She forced a smile. “Is something the matter, Señor Delgado?”
“Yes! This delinquent has no manners, I asked him to help me move some carts and he rudely refused the Mocoso!”
There was really no point in arguing with him. “I can help you with the carts, señor. I’m sure Bubo has an important reason for not helping.” Luisa shot Bubo a ‘sorry’ look.
He didn't seem to hear her.
In fact, he hadn't moved an inch she approached.
Señor Delgado huffed. “Gracias, Luisa; I'm glad someone in your generation still has manners unlike that indeseable.”
“Haha yeah.” Lusia laughed awkwardly.
“Mamá, is it normal for uh, people not to blink or move when getting yelled at?”
Julieta paused in her (currently non-magical) cooking. “Ey? Come again, mija?”
“Is it normal for people to not move or blink when getting yelled at?” Luisa repeated, arms held behind her back as she did her best not to fidget.
“Are you speaking for yourself, or–”
“No. I saw it happen today in the market and I'm wondering why it happened and if it's bad for one's health.”
“Well, it depends.” Julieta wiped her hands on her apron. “Sometimes a reaction like that can be caused by traumas.”
“Oh.”
She did not like the look on her daughter’s face. “May I ask who you’re talking about?”
“Bubo Marquez. Señor Delgado was yelling at him and he didn't react at all—even when I intervened. It was like he wasn't there at all.” Luisa reluctantly answered.
Julieta winced. All the red flags she’d noticed while around him seemed to be like blaring sirens now. “Ah. I see. Thank you for telling me, mija.”
“Don't tell him I told you. I don't want him to think I'm gossiping.”
“I won't, sweetheart.”
It had been two months since the miracle was returned to the Encanto.
Two months since Isabela got her gift back.
And people were still complaining about her flowers!
Isa was on an experimental streak; gone were the roses and the lilies, and in were the strangling vines and jacarandas.
And some people had…opinions on this.
Which is why when she found Bubo Marquez leaning over some of her flowers with a notebook, she was on the offense. Ready to defend herself and her creations.
“They’re not perfect, but they're beautiful! And if you can’t see that–”
“Perfect is boring.” Bubo replied, absentmindedly. “And besides, the flowers are amazing. I didn't know thorns could grow in the shape of flowers or that there could be tie dye roses.”
Isabela’s retort died in her throat. He thought perfection was boring? He thought her flowers were amazing? “I made them. They’re magic.”
“You made them?” That got his attention. “Through magic?”
‘That's right, he hadn't been there when the magic returned’ the gardener remembered, vaguely remembering Mariano said about him being sick that day.
“Uh, yeah, funny story. This whole valley was created by a magic miracle over fifty years ago by the death of my Abuelo. His niños, and then their own niños, were given magical gifts. Mine is plants.” Isabela had never had to explain any of this before. Everyone in the Encanto knew about The Amazing Madrigals and their Amazing Gifts.
The man looked very curious but didn't ask any questions—though he clearly wanted to. “Huh. I really need to get out more.”
“We haven’t had our gifts for the past year. The miracle…left. Until mi hermana brought it back.” Isabela quickly explained.
Thankfully he didn't ask any questions.
Isabela wouldn't find out why he didn't ask questions until months later and when she did… well, let's just leave it at her reaction wasn't a pretty one.