Bruno Madrigal Oneshots

Chronic Pain

by Earenneil on Ao3

warnings: depictions of extreme pain

summary: As the title suggests, Bruno experiences some side effects to his visions. Basically just fluff, Bruno in pain, and Julieta being the best sister

Dolores tipped her head to the side, her heart sinking as a familiar whimper reached her ears from one of the rooms upstairs. The tell tale shallow breathing and soft groans every now and then told her that her Tío was in pain again. He had made his young sobrina promise not to interfere unless absolutely necessary, as he preferred to deal with this particular side effect to his visions alone. But Dolores knew that he'd been having a lot of trouble accepting help since returning to them. She had also heard him talking to his rats about not wanting to be a worry to his family, that they had bigger things to concern themselves with than a grown man unable to handle a little chronic pain.

He was too used to having to deal with things himself since his decade in the walls, too used to suffering alone, and her soft heart ached for her tío as she thought of all those years of solitude he'd been forced to struggle through this without even a scrap of comfort or loving care.

She heard Bruno's breath catching in his throat as he gasped, a louder whimper escaping him as he struggled through the pain. No. She couldn't stand listening to him suffering for another second, not when she could do something to help. And she knew just how to go about it.

——————

Bruno lay on his side amidst the twisted sheets, resting his cheek against the cool pillow as he closed his eyes for a moment. His breath came out in short sharp gasps as he struggled to stay calm, his pounding head holding no candle to the twenty other types of pain currently assaulting his fragile body. He tried to take a deep, calming breath only for it to nearly make him choke as it caught in his throat. Pressing a steadying hand to his wildly beating heart, he wrapped his other arm around his chest, another whimper escaping him as he curled in on himself against the throbbing, stabbing, burning pain that was... everywhere . From his fingertips all the way down to his toes... it utterly engulfed him. For as long as he could remember, he'd suffered with this. Chronic pain, migraines, nausea, dizziness... a heavy price to pay for his gift, a price that was merciless, unyielding, and utterly exhausting.

Not least of Bruno's problems was his stomach which was rumbling pitifully, an empty, aching cavern in his chest. He hadn't eaten in two days, and he badly wanted something, anything , to take the edge off, but he knew he wouldn't make it downstairs. On bad days, he could barely lift his hand to his mouth without exhausting himself, much less make his way downstairs to the kitchen to grab one of Julieta's arepas. His sister's gift didn't work as well on him as everyone else, as the chronic pain he suffered was directly a result of his own gift, yet, it still helped. But this was a bad day. He could tell by the stiffness of his legs and hands and the way his body twitched and spasmed, sending painful little electric shocks through him, that even if he was to try he wouldn't get far before having to admit defeat and slump right there on the landing for anyone to find him. But that was the one thing, the one thing he'd vowed to himself not to do. Bother his family. Or worse, make them worry. He knew they still did, despite his efforts to conceal his suffering. He felt the undercurrent of concern whenever he'd have a bad flare up, yet how now, after a decade in the walls, they were unsure as to how to help him. But he didn't need help. He didn't rejoin his family only to become a burden to them. He refused to.

But oh, how Bruno missed his family. Whenever he was confined to his room, forced to wait out yet another agonising flare up, he missed them. He'd just got them back a few months ago, and was relishing being a part of the family again, albeit overwhelming as it often still was. He longed for the comfort of his sisters. Longed for the way they had cared for him years ago. Julieta's gentle touch, Pepa's quiet strength that seemed to flow from her into him as she held his hand, his Mamá's soft encouraging words as she held him in her arms and stroked his hair as he cried.