Bruno Madrigal Oneshots

Unholy battered old thing you were

By thelogicalghost on Ao3

Warnings: disassociation

Summary: It hurts, watching the terrible things in the world.

The Madrigals can't control what Bruno sees in his visions, but they can make sure he doesn't face them alone any more.

Despite the magic returning, the Madrigal family isn't magically fixed, and they know that. Sometimes Mirabel thinks they'll spend their whole lives working on being a better family. They're definitely better, though: they help each other find new habits to replace old ones, find a balance between duty to others and to themselves, and find the words to talk to each other without hurting.

And then there's her Tio Bruno.

For all her maturity and dedication to her family's happiness, Mirabel sometimes feels lost when it comes to her uncle. She suspects everyone does. Bruno's gift is heavier that anyone else's, and ten years of isolation leaves scars.

She thinks about this one day, when they family sits down to dinner. It's not unusual for Bruno to be late, so she runs up the stairs to knock on his door. It's also not unusual for Bruno not to hear people knocking, so after only a few seconds, Mirabel walks in.

When the magic came back, none of the rooms were quite the same as before, reflecting their changes as people and as a family. This isn't the first time that Mirabel's been grateful for the lack of a massive, intimidating staircase in her uncle's room, but it is the first time she's been grateful in quite this way, because she can instantly see that something is very wrong with Bruno.

"Tio Bruno?" she asks softly.

He's sitting in the sand circle he uses for his visions. He's been doing them occasionally these days, when something is important enough or when he can't refuse a heartfelt request. Mirabel can see the remains of the fire, dark and cooling, so he must have performed it a while ago. The telltale green glass panel is lying awkwardly in the sand, untouched, and Bruno is simply sitting, motionless, staring straight ahead.

Mirabel approaches him carefully. "Tio Bruno?" she calls again, but he doesn't seem to even hear her.

As she gets closer, she realizes his eyes are reddened, and the light catches tear tracks on his face, which is slack and empty. His expression looks glazed, like he's asleep with his eyes open, or staring at something she can't see.

She knows she needs help, but something in Mirabel insists that she not leave Bruno alone, not when he looks so lost. "Dolores," she calls, not loudly but just loud enough to get her prima's attention. "I need mi mama."

Perhaps Casita already alerted them, or perhaps the house flew her up the stairs, because Julieta comes in a moment later. "Mirabel?" she starts to say, then gives a little gasp. "Oh, hermanito." She crosses the room to take the blanket from his bed and then very carefully drapes it around Bruno's shoulders.

Pepa appears at the door, a cloud swirling over her head. "Bruno?"

"He's a little bit lost," Julieta says. That must mean something to Pepa, because she leans against the doorframe with a sigh, cloud dark but no longer growing.

"Sonso," Pepa makes a face, though Mirabel can tell she's calling him a dummy affectionately, not in anger. "He told us this didn't happen anymore."

Julieta shakes her head. "He probably didn't want to worry us. Could you handle dinner? I'll sit with him."

"Of course." Pepa comes in and leans over for a moment, her long fingers cupping her brother's cheek as she touches their foreheads together in a gesture of affection. As Pepa leaves, she gestures to Mirabel, but the teenager shakes her head, and Pepa doesn't press.