Chapter Text
"Man, I'm tired. What time is it?" asked a voice above him, and Bruno let his forehead thump against the floor, exhausted.
Everything hurt. The finger-shaped bruises all over his body, his thighs burning from the strain of being held far wider than he was used to.
Someone's hands -he recognizes Héctor's from the shape and the way they go to his shoulder and hip first- clench around him to flip him over, and he closes his eyes for a moment to protect them against the bright light of the lamps, and the sight of the other men surrounding him.
"It's late. Does anyone want another round or can I go again?" he asked, and received back a chorus of negatives and encouraging whistling. His hand next wrapped around Bruno's chin, pulling his face up, and he opened his eyes. Héctor always did like him to look him in the eye. "¿Ya está cansada mi putita?" he cooed.
Bruno bites his tongue to keep himself from responding, this is not one of those questions. Héctor just wants to hear himself speak, wants the others to hear him speak to him this way.
"Well, let's give them one last show, Brunito ." And he shoved Bruno back on the ground, before grabbing both sides of his hips to flip him again.
This was not the future he wanted
Bruno was nine years old when he had this vision.
He was too young to understand what it meant back then, only starting to feel the stirrings of something changing inside him, but the sight of the man bruised and crying naked on the floor, was enough to send him sprinting down the stairs and out his bedroom door.
He felt the casita warm her tiles under his bare feet as he made his way towards the kitchen, in what was perhaps a natural reflex.
The kitchen was Julieta's domain, where she helped mamá with the meals and where her gift manifested, and even when he found the room empty of her laughing eyes and gentle smile, Bruno felt himself relax instantly as the casita pushed towards him a tray of cocadas leftover from lunch.
Maybe he was not injured per se, but Bruno still felt something heal inside him when he took a bite of one, and the sugary treat crumbled on his tongue.
It probably wasn't even a vision. Just... A bad dream, he decided. Just that. Nothing worth bothering mamá for.
Better to go back to sleep.
This was not the future he wanted
He was twelve, when Bruno finally understood how... unwanted his gift was.
Pepa could water entire fields when she felt sad, and keep hurricanes at bay just by being happy. Juli literally saved a man's life just that morning, feeding him a somewhat misshapen empanada that countered the venom of the snake that bit him.
The townspeople loved his sisters, and they had all the reason to. With them here, Encanto would prosper.
And Bruno?
Well, Bruno tried. He tried so hard to see good things, to give mamá and the people of their little town good prophecies about what was to come, but it was all so confusing . Seeing the town's church could mean a wedding or a funeral in equal measure, and the Rodriguez weren't all too pleased when he couldn't tell them which, much to his mom's embarrassment.
"I don't know Juli," Bruno sighed. "I don't understand them, and they always end up being bad somehow. What if I can't see good things? What if I'm causing the bad things?"
"Hm. I don't think you cause bad things." Juli shrugged, mixing some more shredded cheese into the corn dough. "But I think- you know how when Pepa doesn't want to get nervous because it will get windy-"
"She gets nervous and it gets windy," Bruno completed with a snort. "You think people are causing them then?"
"I think people get so scared that your visions might be bad, that they blame everything bad on your visions. It doesn't mean it's your fault." She nudged him on her way to the budare, where she started shaping the arepas for cooking. "You should just stop telling people things."
"Are you crazy ?" Bruno asked. "Mamá would be so mad, we-"
"We owe our gifts to Encanto," she completed dutifully. "But honestly Bruno, you're giving them your gift with all you've got. They just-"
"Don't want it." Bruno completed again. Julieta turns to look at him, her brows furrowed in concern. "I'll just. I'll try harder."
"You look like you haven't slept," she said in the end.
He could've told her then. About the vision that came every night, and this man that Bruno was scared to notice he was looking more and more like each day. The tears, the bruises.
"My room is too hot, even at night," he complained instead, and Julieta rolled her eyes.
"At least it's not a pantry. Come on, I made some juice this morning. Have a cup and go take a nap, ok?"
This was not the future he wanted
He was fourteen, when he started fearing going down to the town.
Some called him the Mohán sometimes, and said he brought bad luck and disaster with him. Some of them, Bruno knew, really hated him for it.
Juan Domínguez believed Bruno had foretold his father's death, and all four of Maite Becerra's brothers said it was his fault she was left at the altar, and their disdain only grew as her belly got rounder and rounder.
Still, their duty was to help the town, and if Bruno couldn't do that with his gift, he'd do it some other way.
"What are you even doing here anyways?" said a dry voice as Bruno took to the church's window with a wet rag. "We can do that ourselves without you coming down to ruin everything."
Bruno held back the urge to sigh. Just a week ago he saw Héctor García tumbling off a cliff when his horse got spooked by a snake, and told him to be careful when riding it. Just yesterday the horse broke its leg slipping on a loose tile as Héctor rode it into the plaza, and had to be put down.
"I'm doing my part," was all Bruno said. Not 'I didn't hurt your horse' or 'you would've died if you hadn't stayed at the town' , like he wanted to say. It wouldn't make a difference anyways. "Just trying to help."
"We don't want your help," Héctor snarled. Then, when Bruno didn't respond, "are you ignoring me?!"
Bruno kept at the window, grateful for the work to keep him focused, for the bucket and rag in his hands that kept him grounded.
Héctor's hands landed heavily on his shoulder and hip, and flipped him around to shove him against the window. The bucket slipped from his grip, turning the ground around them to mud.
"I'm. Talking. To. You."
"I wasn't ignoring you," Bruno whispered, his eyes fixed somewhere on Héctors shirt. Despite being around his age, Héctor was built wider and thicker due to farmwork, and he had no trouble keeping Bruno pinned. "Just doing my job."
" Look at me when I'm talking ," Héctor grunted again. His brown eyes were wide with anger and a sort of intensity Bruno couldn't place. "You think you're better than us, don't you? Up at your fancy house with your magic. What's your gift good for huh? Did it tell you about this ?" He slammed Bruno against the window again.
"I just want to help-"
"Did you know? Conchita told me she was so sorry about what happened, she'd give me one of her mare's foals." His grip on Bruno's shoulder tightened, and Hector leaned in closer. "People think I need charity for what you did to me, Madrigal. I'm going to-"
Whatever it was Héctor was going to do -and he didn't dare look for fear of what he'd see- was never told. Instead he jumped back quickly at Julieta's soft voice.
"Bruno? Are you- oh."
"I'm fine, Juli. Just dropped the bucket."
Julieta's sharp eyes jumped between the two of them, and she arched a questioning eyebrow. "Hey Héctor."
"Julieta," Héctor smiled. "Just checking if I could be of any help."
"I guess you could take over the windows," Juli said after a moment. "Bruno, can you help me inside? Pepa and I were cleaning the chandeliers, but she saw a rat and went outside to calm down."
Bruno smiled despite himself. Pepa would gladly stare down a snake or a jaguar, but mice were apparently a different story.
"Sure. Let's finish those, then," he said before carefully stepping away from between the church wall and Héctor. The burning glare on his back was a lot easier to ignore with his sister by his side.
"...You need to be more careful, Bruno," Julieta said after a few moments of quiet scrubbing.
"...I do, don't I?" Bruno nodded quietly.
Neither of them elaborated.
This was not the future he wanted
He'd just turned fifteen, when he began getting an inkling of what the vision might mean.
The Casita looked breathtaking, each tile reflecting the light of the sun and clinking musically as the guests came in, for no one in Encanto was left uninvited from such a ceremony as the Madrigal triplets' fifteenth birthday.
His sisters looked beautiful in their dresses, Pepa in soft cream yellow, Julieta in sunset pink. Bruno himself was wearing a crisp white shirt mom made for him, embroidered in the same pearlescent pattern as the candle that gave them their magic.
Everything went according to plan; mamá gifted Juli and Pepa with shiny new shoes with just the slightest bit of a heel, and him with a beautiful belt with hand-carved hourglass designs. The dance, the cake, the toast, and the whole town celebrating the birth of Encanto's guardian angels.
For a beautiful, fleeting moment, Bruno let himself be fooled into thinking this included him as well.
As always, the sheer amount of people soon grew overwhelming for him, and Bruno found himself quietly sneaking away from the party and out into the orchard for some peace and quiet.
"I'll be right back, don't be dramatic," he chuckled as the casita hooked a floor tile up the hem of his pants, pulling him back as he stepped into the crisp exterior. "There's just too much noise, and if I try to go to my room everyone will see me. Just five minutes, okay?"
The door creaked sulkily, and Bruno chuckled again before walking off.
As usual, the orchard was dark and empty and quiet, and he quickly found his favorite spot under a young guava tree, sitting on the soft cool grass with his back against the trunk.
Now, the thing with Bruno's visions was they came in waves. Sure, he could force himself to see them like one could walk into the sea, but when the sea decided to come to you, you better be prepared to hold on to something.
A woman walked with a basket of laundry, alone down the road to the stream. Bruno's heart sank with panic when he recognized Pepa's gait. It would be something good, it had to be-
"-at the party, Mohán-"
He flinched, when Pepa's ankle twisted as she stepped on a loose rock when crossing to the little rocky pool they'd built for laundry. The basket and the clothes went flying, and Pepa's pained scream summoned dark storm clouds that lowered around her like fierce guardian dogs. Surely that would be enough to keep her safe, surely Bruno wasn't about to watch his sister being mauled to death by a jungle cat-
"-'s doing it right now, look at his eyes."
"Fucking rat-"
Bruno's fists clenched on his shirt as Pepa tried and failed to crawl back to the edge of the stream, the slippery loose rocks and the twisted (broken?) ankle making the task titanical, and the pain calling more and more thundering clouds to her.
"-he going to ruin this time?"
"Maybe his own. Would make it easier for the tow-"
A man running towards the stream. Someone Bruno didn't recognize, but it didn't matter, he thought with a sigh of relief. No one in Encanto would abandon an injured Pepa Madrigal to her fate. Now if she could just calm down enough for the clouds to let him pass-
"-un puerco! You wouldn't!"
"Do it! I dare you!"
"Hold-"
Bruno gasped in surprise, as the man ran straight into Pepa's thunderstorm, and a couple flashes of errant lightning illuminated his silhouette as he bent down to pick Pepa up. The clouds parted to allow the unexpected hero with his static-blown hair to take his charge into dry land, and set her down on the grass before kneeling to check her ankle. He didn't notice, focused as he was, the bright, bright sun punching through the storm to warm them.
Bruno let out another relieved sigh to calm his racing heart. It was a good one, a- Pepa would be fine. Whoever that was, she would be safe and-
"Look at him, he hasn't even noticed," someone laughed by his side, and Bruno froze when he recognized the deep, mean voice of Martín Becerra, Maite's oldest brother.
He also recognized the weight of hands on both his shoulders, holding him down and still against the trunk of the tree.
"Maybe he likes it," said Juan Domínguez from some other point around him, as Bruno blinked owlishly trying to focus his vision on the present again. "Nasty little pig."
Some of the others cackled, which couldn't- it probably didn't mean anything good. The cool night air felt freezing against the wetness on his face, and Bruno stilled in terror. Did he cry during his vision? That would- that rarely happened to him, but if he did and these assholes saw it-
He lifted a hand to wipe at his cheek, and a couple droplets of something hot and foul-smelling splashed against the back of it.
"Feliz cumpleaños, Brunito," said Matías Becerra, and Bruno's eyes finally focused enough for him to take in his current situation. The middle Becerra brother stood before him, his arm slung over Héctor's shoulders.
Héctor, who looked down at Bruno with a blank, intense look in his eyes and his still dripping prick in his hand.
Bruno blinked back actual tears this time, noticing with mortified disgust how his lashes clumped and stuck to each other with the moisture. Héctor took in a sharp breath, and his hand twitched around his prick before he shoved it back in his pants.
"A bit like how dogs piss on trees, eh?" Another of the Becerra brothers laid a playful punch on Héctor's shoulder, before turning to look down at him. "Shame on your shirt, though. It was actually really nice."
"Just take it. What's he going to do, say no?" Juan rolled his eyes, reaching a hand forward to pull at the shirt's collar. Bruno watched as one of the pearly buttons popped off and lost itself in the grass.
"Ugh, why would I want a pissed shirt? Puerco."
"Why?" Bruno asked. Why couldn't they leave him alone for one night? Why- why did they hate him so much for something he couldn't control?! For the first time in his life Bruno wished his gift actually allowed him to bring forth bad luck. To curse those who wronged him unfairly to the same torment they subjected him to.
Héctor stepped forward then, reaching towards him with a hand that was surprisingly gentle as it sank into Bruno's messy wavy hair- until it closed into a fist, pulling painfully before Bruno was thrown on his side on the ground, the sharp scents of urine and grass mixing in his nose.
"That's where you belong," Héctor said over the other teen's cackles, his gaze still strangely intense on Bruno's, before he spun on his heel to leave with the others in tow.
Bruno hid in the toolshed for hours, until the casita creaked a door open to let him know the party was over. When he finally sneaked into his room, he found it had sprouted a new pond and a small cave with a hammock right by the entrance instead of his usual bed on the platform in the middle of the room.
He sat into the surprisingly warm, herb-smelling waters, and very pointedly did not cry as he washed the piss and the shame away.
He went to bed in the newly provided hammock, and wasn't too surprised to have the vision again.