Chapter Text
When Bruno first went missing, Dolores could hear him; she just couldn't pinpoint where he was. Every day Abuela would ask if she could still hear him, and every day the answer was the same.
"He's still in Encanto."
It took Dolores two months of carefully blocking out all other noises before she found her tío. Dolores happily ran to Alma, a big smile on her face.
"Abuela! I found tío Bruno! He's in the walls!"
"Dolores! That is not a funny prank to pull! We are all worried about Bruno, don't make up lies! If you cannot hear him, just tell us. Don't make up stories."
Dolores immediately began to cry quietly. At seeing this, Alma sighed and pulled the eleven-year-old into a hug.
"Oh, cariño, I'm sorry. I know you miss your tío, but let's try to keep the make-believe to a minimum, ok?"
Dolores tried to tell her parents, and her tía Julieta and tío Agustin, but they didn't believe her. They thought she was either lying or pretending Bruno was still around.
Four months after he left, and Bruno's name was forbidden in the house. At first, it was just to get Pepa to quit making storm clouds inside, but soon everyone cringed when they heard his name.
At night Dolores would go to the kitchen wall and quietly talk to her tío, but he never replied. She could hear him crying, but he never spoke to her.
Six months after disappearing into the walls, Bruno coughed up his first flower. Hanahaki. Dolores had only ever heard about the disease; it was so rare that doctors didn't know much about it. It was a magical illness. She listened as Bruno's mild cough grew over the years. She could hear the wet sound of blood splattering over the petals, listened as Bruno sobbed around the thorns he pulled out of his mouth.
It was a bougainvillea, a thorny vine. Dolores only knew this when she found a petal on the kitchen floor late one night.
"Tío Bruno, we love you. Please come home."
He was silent for a moment before whispering.
"I'm sorry."
So he stayed in the walls. Dolores did what she could, left broken items the family wouldn't notice missing out for him to take. She made sure leftovers were within easy reach. When tía Julieta's gift did nothing to help with the tears in his throat left behind by thorns, Dolores bought a tea that could help soothe his throat.
Most importantly, she told him that she loved him and missed him every night. He would talk to her sometimes. Thank her for things. A lot of the time, he spoke to himself, made up stories with his rats. But as more and more flowers came, he grew quieter. He stopped talking altogether around the sixth-year mark. Dolores tried many times to drag him out of the walls, but Casita was on his side and sealed any doorways shut. She'd tried one more time to inform her family where Bruno was, only this time she was yelled at, told she was too old to be making stories up.
So Dolores was forced to listen to Bruno inside the walls, unable to help him.
Then he stopped wandering around inside the walls. Bruno mainly stayed behind the kitchen wall, only venturing further when he had to. Dolores listened as his breathing became labored.
Three weeks after the ninth anniversary, Dolores listened as tío Bruno coughed and vomited flowers into his bucket.
That was enough. She was sick and tired of listening to her tío slowly die. Dolores threw her blankets off and got out of bed. She made no attempt to be quiet as she made her way to the kitchen. Camilo was in there, sneaking a midnight snack.
"Oh, Dolores! You startled me. I thought it was mamá."
Dolores ignored him and went up to the family tree, and tugged on the bottom of the frame. It didn't budge.
"Casita, open up. You have to let me in."
Camilo stepped up behind her, confused.
"Dolores, that's a wall. There's nothing behind it."
"Casita, he'll die in there without help. Please, he needs us."
The house was still for a moment before the mural popped open. Dolores pulled it open completely and finally laid eyes on her tío for the first time in nine years.
Bruno was hunched over on the floor, bucket between his knees. His curls were longer and unruly, hanging down in his face. His once warm olive skin had gone a sickly pale color. The bags under his eyes looked more like bruises. He looked up at them, and a bloody flower petal drifted to the floor.
Dolores crawled into the room, Camilo on her heels.
"Is, is that tío Bruno?!"
Bruno flinched away from them but made no attempt to stand. Dolores slowly approached and knelt beside him.
"Tío, it's time for you to come home."
She held out her hand. Bruno stared at it for a moment as he tried to make a decision. Finally, he reached out and grabbed her hand. Dolores smiled and helped him to his feet and out of the room.