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Some days, Pepa thinks her gift is a curse.
Which, she would rather die than admit to. It would break her Mamá's heart to hear such a thing.
No, it had broken Mamá's heart. When Bruno was still here, still young but carrying a heavy age in his eyes, he would spit the word curse like posion. She remembers how he would plead to Mamá. To let him cease giving away visions that held nothing but death and doom.
And Mamá would cup his face, let his anger fade and simply remind him that Casita had gifted him this ability for a reason. It was how he earned his place in The Encanto. Then Bruno would wilt, and give into Mamá like the three of them always would.
Pepa's heart aches to think one of her own children would one day feel the same.
Ah, but things are different now. Bruno is gone. (And that's fine. She doesn't miss him. She only hates him because he left. He isn't dead, and his door is only dark and cold because he isn't here.) And Pepa can handle her gift. It didn't shatter her when Mama had pulled her aside this morning, saying, Pepita, mi sol, prehaps you should stay at Casita this morning?
Another dark cloud appeared above her head, but it didn't seem to want to stay one size. It grew, spouting snow one second and shrank to a pitiful hailing puff the next. Not even the avena Julieta had pressed into her hands earlier did anything to sooth her jumpy mind.
She glared haphazardly at the alternating storm above her. Her gift on the fritz, ha! Every other day it seemed to match up with her strongest emotion at the time, (currently annoyance), but now?
A bolt of lighting escaped, hitting the wall behind her. Pepa turned, quick to assess the damage, if any. With no children around to hear, a swear rises unbidden from her lips, and she jumped to her feet.
''Hijo de puta!''
Behind the head of the dining table where Mamá always sat, was a painted portrait of the Madrigal family. Whenever a new child was born, Casita added their image over night. Casita also refused to be rid of the image of Bruno no matter how hard Mamá demanded it, and Pepa had spent every breakfast the last five years avoiding looking at him.
Except now, there was a smoking black spot where her brothers face had been. She went about scrubbing it with her thumb immediately, muttering apologies to Casita all the way.
Ay, her stupid gift! Going on like this it was only a matter of time before she struck one of her own family with lighting. But even her ritualistic repetition of clearing skies wouldn't work today.
Was she broken? Was today the day Pepa Madrigal finally lost control? If her gift didn't have at least some since of balance, Mamá would surely see her as no good for The Encanto.
She sighed, and once Bruno's face as no longer covered in soot, rested her forehead against the wall. It wasn't exactly comfortable, rough grainy wood, but it seemed like the string holding Pepa up had finally snapped, and this was the only thing keeping her standing.
And she- wait. Her eyebrows pushed down quizzically, and she turned her head to the left. Ear pressed against the wood, Pepa waited for a lull in the clouds above her to listen.
There, yes! The shuffling of something. Camilo hadn't been lying when he said Casita was rat infected. They just had to be hiding in the walls.
Now this was a good excuse for Pepa to work some emotions out. Anger, oddly enough, had always brought about the easiest weather conditions to control. Maybe if she could scare away some vermin with her thundering, things would return to normal.
She took a step back, hands on her hips. ''Casita? Can you open this wall for me?''
Then, a very strange thing happened. All of Casita began to leap and shake. The tiles below her feet jumped, and she nearly tumbled to the floor. Casita was, excited? It must really hate the rat problem in its walls.
With one final gleeful shutter, the wall in front of her slid open. It was so fast that Pepa had to shield her eyes from the onslaught of dust it brought fourth. She waves her hand in front of her face, gives a short cough, and opens her eyes.
And Pepa feels like she has been dunked under icy water because Bruno is looking at her though the gap in the wall. Bruno, with a multitude of rats dangling from his ruana. Bruno, who looks more shocked than he had any right to be.
Bruno, who was about to be a dead man.
Later, the two of them insist action happened right away. That Pepa immediately marched towards her brother, and the confrontation five years in the making began.
In reality, almost a solid minute passed before anyone but the rats moved. The little creatures, in a very smart play, abandoned ship almost at once. At least seven, Pepa will recall that night, scampered away from Bruno and into a multitude of crevices in the walls.
It takes Bruno, slowly pulling up his hood for Pepa to react. She shrieks so loud that back in town Dolores will jump, and drop a vase on teenage heartthrob Mariano Guzmán's foot.
''Bruno?!'' She yells, quickly stepping through the wall and closing the gap between then.
''No.'' Says Bruno, voice strangely deep. ''No, soy Hernando.''
''Oh don't you dare Hernando me Bruno Madrigal! It didn't work when we were children, and it certainly won't work now!''
He shrinks back, and the calm facade rapidly fades. What could maybe be called a strangled laugh escapes him. ''Ah, you can't blame a guy for trying?''
Oh, oh her anger is bubbling. There is lava pooling in her veins and a ball of flame in her stomach. She grabs Bruno by the front of his ruana, and tugs him forward. The hood falls, and, and, and Pepa is-
Pepa is looking at her little brother. His eyes are so wide, so exactly like she remembers them to be. Nothing about him has changed, except he looks a touch pale, and all too tired.
Her anger melts, lukewarm in her veins and nothing but ashes in her stomach. She lets go of the green fabric and Bruno stumbles back like she's burnt him. He's breathing heavy now, halfway hidden behind by an old red armchair Pepa was sure they threw out years ago.
''Pepa.'' He says, words erupting like he can't seem to stop them. ''You, you have to go. Turn around and, and, and forget I'm here! No one has to know, okay? Ah, Casita why did you do that?''
Behind her a window shrugs, but Pepa doesn't react. She is looking around the tiny room now, heart twisting in her chest. Anything that isn't so old it shouldn't be standing looks handmade. Rudimentary too, like whoever built it had done so with shaking hands. In fact, the most solid structure she could see was a wooden box on the floor, clearly for the rats.
Pepa slumps, and Casita shuffles something to the side so she leans on that instead of dropping to the floor. This get a yelp from Bruno, but she hardly hears. Every sound and touch is too far away.
She looks at Bruno, who is desperately waving his arms at her. Then, down at the plank Casita had used to keep her propped up. It connected to the wall with hinges, but suddenly nothing mattered expect what was painted on the wood.
A plate. Bruno's plate. The last time she had seen it had been three months after he first disappeared. Each night at dinner Casita would stubbornly roll it out along with the rest. Finally, Mamá had enough of it. She had snatched the plate from the cabinets and carried it up to her room. When she had returned to dinner, Mamá was wearing her black shawl.
It was most definitely hand painted here. Perfection despite its crudeness. Some of the paint looked fresher than the rest, like Bruno would touch it up whenever parts would fade.
''Have you...'' She turns to her brother, who is now frozen in place. ''Have you been back here this whole time Bruno?''
''I- Pepa, it's not...'' He grunts, and presses hard at him temple. ''I didn't want to go Pepa. But I had to. And Casita showed me this place. So I could stay, and still keep Mirabel safe.''
''Mirabel?''
Bruno jolts, like he hadn't meant for his sobrina's name to slip out. Something is muttered that Pepa misses, and then Bruno is looking at her with fierce desperation.
''You can't tell anyone.'' He says. ''You can't tell anyone I'm here. Pepa, tienes que jurar.''
She swipes a hand through the air. ''I am swearing nothing! You want me to walk back into Casita and pretend you haven't been living in the walls for five years?''
''Sí, that is exactly what I want.''
''No!''
Bruno's face twists in annoyance, and that is enough to raise her anger again. He had no right to make her the bad guy in this situation. She stalks forward, finger pointed and hackles raised.
The retort on her lips changes into a offended gasp as he grabs her hand. ''Pepa.'' He says, forty five years of something in his tone. ''Just listen to me, please.''
It has her slowing down, and while part of her turn this into a screaming cage match, she gives in. Pepa nods, stiff, and then Bruno is dragging her towards the ratty red chair.
The way he crouches, voice soft, does not remind her of Camilo in any way.
''Go on.'' She says. ''Speak.''
''I, uh. I'm not actually sure where to start.''
The clouds above her fizz with electricity. ''Figure it out Bruno.''
''Aye, okay okay.''
He takes a deep breath and is steadied. When Bruno looks at her again, she nearly mistakes him for the painting of their Papá.
''The night Mirabel didn't get her gift, Mamá asked me to look into the future. I, I didn't want to. But she was so worried, and I could never say no to her. Not like you Pepa.''
She couldn't remember saying no to their Mamá once in the past five years. Strangely, it hurt, but Bruno just continued to speak.
''And, and Pepa I saw our Casita. Cracking and falling apart. Mirabel - older but it was her, was standing in front of it. But the vision, it didn't-'' He gestured wildly with his hand. ''It would change. For the first time ever, my vision didn't have a set end. One moment Mirabel stood in front of a broken Casita. The next, it was mended and perfect.''
Pepa places a hand over her heart. ''Bruno, what does that all mean? I don't understand.''
(She does. She understands more than anything.)
''It means, Mirabel is Mirabel and I'm Bruno. If I told Mamá what I saw, she would only see the bad. Pepa, Mirabel was five. What do you think Mamá would of done if she thought there was even the smallest chance Mirabel could harm The Encanto?''
Defense is what springs to her mind first. She almost sits up to insist that Mamá loves her family above anything.
But she is stopped by Bruno's eyes. They speak every moment Mamá would reprimand him for seeing a bleak vision. They mirror her own, still strung by being asked to stay behind this morning.
''But Bruno,'' Pepa takes his hands. They are cold. ''Why not lie? Tell Mamá you saw nothing?''
''You know Mamá wouldn't take that for an answer Pepa. Eventually, I would break and tell her.''
''So you left.'' Her words feel like dead weight.
''So I left.''
For a moment, Pepa thinks only of Mirabel. She loves the girl, Julieta's little spitfire. Her Camilo's best friend.
But, Pepa can't deny that if there was one Madrigal she wasn't as close to, it would be Mirabel. After her failed gift ceremony, Pepa never truly spent much time with her sobrina alone. She had felt strange about it, worried her gift so flaunted would make Mirabel feel worse as the years went on.
And Mirabel was so close to Félix. Ay, she was a terrible Tía.
''Pepa?'' Bruno is touching her chin now, guiding her head up so they are once more looking at each other. ''I didn't want to leave. Not the family. Not you, or Julieta. It hurt, so much to go. But I would of done it for anyone. Dolores, Camilo. Anything to protect them.''
It breaks something in her then. She isn't quite sure if it's the tiny room her hermano has been sheltering in, or his soft, loving tone, but it opens the flood gates. Her clouds storm, and they are pelted with rain. Bruno only has time to let out a muffled oof before Pepa is crashing him against her chest.
The way he hugs her back, slow and unsure, like he'd forgotten how only makes her cry harder.
''Pepa, Pepa, ah-'' He's crying too, the little brat. Stealing her thunder. ''Pepa, it looks like rain.''
She laughs, wet and quick. ''You bobo, you bring that up now?''
''It's a joke Pepa! I joke when I'm nervous!''
They pull apart now, but Pepa keeps a hold on his arms. Noticeably Bruno seems just as determined to keep in contact with her.
''Bruno.'' Pepa says, and his smile slips. ''This can't go on. You can't stay here.''
''But Mamá-''
''Forget Mamá!'' It hurts to say, and is oh so freeing at the same time. ''Bruno, this isn't a life. Living in the walls. ¡Dios mío! Look at you, so thin! Do you even eat?''
''We're, uh.'' Bruno shifts his head to the side. ''Kitchen adjacent. I get enough.''
''Enough, bah!'' She stands to her feet, pulling Bruno with her. If he tired to fight it, she couldn't tell. The man had to weight ninety pounds soaking wet. ''We're going into the kitchen. You are going to eat. Then we are going to wait for the family.''
Pepa starts to tug at him, and this time he does pull against her. ''Pepa, no! I'm not going to risk Mirabel.''
''You aren't going to. We will deal with the family when they get back. And tonight we will talk to Julieta and Agustín about what you saw. Mamá won't know.''
''Ehh...'' The fight leaves him again, and Bruno allows himself to be drug out into the open. His eyes don't seem to find a place to settle. ''And if Mamá asks about my vision?''
''We tell her to stuff it. Bruno, I never should of stopped defending you. From Mamá, from the town.''
His big, big eyes stare at her. Neither of them had stopped crying. ''It wasn't your job to protect me Pepa. You had children, your own hardships.''
''Maybe,'' she admits. ''But I still turned away from you. And I'm so sorry Bruno.''
''Then I'm sorry too. For not at least saying goodbye.''
Then, she brings him into the kitchen less they start sobbing and bugging again. Pepa wanted at least a little time to prepare before the family got home. She pushed Bruno down into a chair Casita happily provided. He blinked up at her, and against the sprinkle of rain.
''Pepa?'' He asks.
She just hums in response, preparing something for Bruno to eat. Her skinny, lightweight little Brunito.
''Has your cloud been acting like this all day?''
Pepa groans, tossing up her hands. ''Ay, yes! It doesn't want to listen to me or my emotions today!''
''Hm, I remember the last time it had been like this. You just found out you were pregnant with Camilo! Ah, I actually liked it when snow would fall the rainbows.''
He laughs, expecting Pepa to join him. Instead she is still, eyes wide and hand over her stomach.
''Pepa?'' He repeats, a dawning realization crawling over him as snow begins to drift down. ''Pepa, you aren't-''
Bruno doesn't finish his sentence. Doesn't need to, with the way Pepa begins to laugh. A bright shinning light fills the kitchen, but he would happily be blinded by it if just to see Pepa this way.
''Brunito.'' She says, full of affection. He gets pulled in for another embrace, and they fit in each other's arms like lock and key. Above, though no one can see, the candle burns brighter than it had in a long time. ''You are a miracle.''