Whispers [Bruno Madrigal x Reader]

Chapter Five

The rest of your day played out like any Sunday might. Of course you never loved chores, but your good mood was an impenetrable force against the mundane activity. Nobody ever said these things had to be so painfully boring, so why make it that way? To the music in your heart, you sidestepped and spun while you swept dust outside. The open door carried in the bittersweet scent of coffee into your home, something you couldn't possibly complain about.

Does Bruno drink coffee? You're sure the Madrigals would never get so much done each week if they didn't. Well, you'd have the chance to ask on Tuesday evening.

It doesn't dawn on you fully that you've been invited to dinner in the Madrigal household, in their incredible home, until you're finishing up your own meal later that night. Dinner with them. The Amazing Madrigals! You nearly choke on your food as your mind begins to race, runs wild like a horse in an open field. What if... No, quit that worrying. You're just some townsperson, and they've got no reason to be particularly concerned with what your life has been like up until this point. But there's that miniscule chance that they do know and it makes your stomach churn.

Beyond that, it is impossible not to wonder about how things will be. The house, you've only been inside once for a gift a little over ten years ago. The last one before Mirabel's... Must have been Camilo. (It's insanity, you think, that you have all the members of a family you do not belong to memorized. Though you're sure most people in the encanto do too.) You had been mesmerized by the unreal way that the tiles dances across the floor, the way the shutters swung in time with the music back then. You were young. That had been before Bruno had left, you remember, but you hadn't seen him.

What would it be like to meet them in such a personal manner? You'd passed by Abeula Alma and Luisa in town before, always offered a smiling greeting, but this was so different. You were hit with a dash of guilt as you began you nighttime ritual, blowing out candles with an itch in your chest. Guilt for having spent so much time, albeit in your head, thinking about the family. Good and bad.

At least Bruno would be there. Maybe one day you could let him know why you'd been so nervous about it all, maybe he'd understand. You remember the way he'd joked about it earlier that day. You confided in him that you were nervous about any reputation that you might have, without really delving into why. He'd chuckled. You can't help but laugh as you sink into bed, thinking about the way he'd flashed his teeth in a smile when he replied.

"I'm the king of bad reputations."

***

Much of Monday was spent worrying about Tuesday, to the point that you caught yourself falling behind in your work. How embarrassing, you remember thinking with your cheeks flush, to be distracted this way by only a dinner invitation.

But Tuesday creeps around, and you're staring at your reflection with a pout on your face. It had been impossible to keep your mind away from Bruno for the last two days, and it felt like ages since you had seen his lopsided smile, wild curls. Why had such a (mostly) meaningless conversation plagued you like this? Well. It couldn't have been so meaningless, you think to yourself as your brush out your hair. He'd asked you to dinner after all.

Not just to dinner but to meet his family. You place your brush down on your dresser with a soft sigh. It sits there, glaring back at you. It had been your only engagement present from your family. A short lived engagement, through no fault of your own. The sterling silver decoration is a painful reminder of it all. Your mind wanders back to tentative diary entries about the arrangement, then to just how quickly it had all come crashing down around you. The way your family had whispered along with your neighbors. But enough whispers can become raw, throat bleeding screams when you're alone.