Out of Reach by AziaElga 

Notes: Encanto One-Shot Fanfic

---

Dolores couldn't sleep.

Even as she hid under her blanket, even as she pressed her pillow into her head, even as she hummed a small song under her breath, the voices didn't go away.

They never did, and they never will.

Ever since she had gotten her gift, the voices never stopped. Every conversation from every household, every whisper that was meant to be secret, every cry, every giggle, every howl—they had haunted her, flooding her mind, drowning her senses.

She could keep the voices at bay in the day, but at night, right when she was trying to sleep, right when she loosened up and relaxed, they rushed in like an avalanche.

Letting out a soft whimper, she begged, "Please, be quiet. Please."

They did not listen.

They never did, and they never will.

She flipped over to her other side with a groan. Squeezing her eyes shut, she concentrated. She combed through the noises, listening, searching, praying...

And there it was: his voice.

Low, silky, and filled with emotions. It was so sweet and so captivating, cutting through the barrage of voices like barrel-aged honey drizzled on a tray of plain biscuits. As usual, she latched on and listened.

"No matter how far, no matter how distant

You are always there, forever persistent.

The bright against dark, the warmth for my heart

Promise me, my love, that we shall never part."

His voice resounded like a warm echo. A smile tugged on her lips. How cute. Was it a poem about a loved one, or the moon?

He was pausing now, a low hum in his throat, probably trying to figure out his next verse. The shuffling of his shoes against marble suggested that he was pacing about his balcony. Was he staring up at the moon? Was he frowning in concentration? Was he wearing the purple pajamas his mother gave to him?

As she listened, she felt herself slowly drifting to sleep.

Every night, his poems were what kept her sane. He was no Emily Dickinson or Edgar Allen Poe, but his efforts were as mesmerizing as his voice.

And because of him, Dolores could sleep.

---

"Good morning, Mama, Papa," Dolores hummed softly as she walked down the corridor. One by one, she greeted everyone in the house as she passed them by. "Good morning, Tia Julieta, Tia Augustin, Camilo, Antonio, Isabela, Luisa, Mirabel."

"Good morning, Dolores," her cousin, Mirabel, greeted back with a wide smile. "Do you know where Abuela is?"

Dolores blinked. That was right, she did not get to see and greet her grandmother this morning. Where was Abuela?

Tilting her head to the side, she sifted through the voices surrounding her. The town was bustling with chatter and noise, but, wide awake and energized, Dolores was more than capable of handling them. Soon, she found her grandmother's familiar gentle voice and focused on it.

"Mariano is a fine, young man," said Abuela. She sounded about two kilometers away, perhaps at the Guzmans. "He will be perfect as an addition to the family."

Dolores nodded. "Abuela is at the Gu—"

Her words were stuck in her throat when she heard the reply.

"You are too kind, Abuela Alma," said a voice that sent a warm tingle down her spine.

That voice.

A small squeak escaped Dolores' mouth. That voice... was his voice. The beautiful voice that recited amateur poems every night, the enchanting voice she fell asleep to... The voice of an angel.

It was Mariano Guzman's voice.

"Our Mariano is more than ready to marry!" his mother chimed in. There was a small sound of a hand pat and a sigh. "This boy stays up all night writing romance poems! He is shy about admitting it, but I assure you, he has a full heart and is more than ready to give his life to a good woman in a good family. And the Madrigal family is the perfect family to be in."

Abuela let out a chuckle. "And we are happy to have you too."

"Dolores?" Mirabel asked, breaking Dolores' trance. "Abuela is at the Gu... Gu what? Guadalupe? Guera? Gustavo?"

"Oh, sorry." Dolores' fists clenched around her dress. "She's- She's at the Guzmans. I think Mister M- Mariano wants to marry someone from this family."

Mirabel gasped. "You mean Mariano Guzman? The golden boy? The son of Senora Guzman? Who is he marrying?"

Dolores stared at her younger cousin's excited eyes, sincerely hoping her blush did not show. It was not surprising that Mirabel was this thrilled at the news. Anyone would be. After all, Mariano was one of the most handsome men in the town, with his jet black hair, sun-kissed skin, and muscular build. But those did not matter to Dolores. A man's physique never did.

She only cared about the voice.

The butterflies in her stomach had grown and multiplied ten-fold, but she quenched them with a hard gulp. She cocked her head to the side once again and listened.

Abuela was speaking. "I'm thinking we could have a few dinners in each others' place first, just to get to know each other."

"That is perfect," Senora Guzman agreed. "Afterwards, I could help arrange for some private seating in restaurants, so the two of them can get to talk more privately."

"That sounds wonderful."

"What do you think, Mariano?"

Mariano cleared his throat. "S- Sure..." he muttered. His confidence and loudness from the nights were gone; he was a lot more reserved and shy in person. Perhaps he only came out of his shell within the comforts of his bedroom.

"Wonderful," Abuela said. "I'll go home and let her know."

"Thank you so much, Abuela Alma," Senora Guzman said as she squeezed Mariano's hands and shook them. Dolores could even hear the excited tingles in her body. "We look forward to the first dinner next week. We can't wait to see Isabela."

Wait, Isabela?

Dolores' hands flew to her mouth. Her lips trembled against her palms as the world crashed around her.

Mariano was planning to marry her older cousin, Isabela?

"Dolores? Are you okay?" Mirabel asked again. "Who is Mister Mariano m—"

"It's Isabela," Dolores blurted, before darting away from her younger cousin and running straight into her room.

She closed the door gently and leaped into her bed. Then, she pressed her face in her pillow and sobbed.

Isabela.

Mister Mariano would be meeting and going out with Isabela, with the hopes of marrying her. But it made sense. Isabela was the oldest of the third generation and the most beautiful woman in the town. It made sense that she would be the first pick for anybody, especially for a guy like Mariano.

It made so much sense, so why was Dolores crying? She barely even knew Mariano. All she knew was his voice and his stupid poems.

But still, her tears poured out.

The more she cried, the more her mind fumbled about. The voices took advantage of that and attacked her mind, just as they did at night. Desperate for some peace and quiet, she searched for a sound to calm herself down.

"Should I buy some roses? Oh, wait, Isabela makes flowers, so maybe she'll like something non-flower related instead..."

No, no, no! Not his voice again! She couldn't use Mariano's voice to calm the heart that was breaking for him! She let out an annoyed yelp as she combed through the other voices. There must be someone, something, that could help her...

The sound of falling sand filled her ears.

Ch, ch, ch.

It came from somewhere in the house, in the direction of Uncle Bruno's room.

She frowned. How long had it been since she had last seen Uncle Bruno? He had run away from the family so many years ago. She did not remember much of her interactions with him, except that time when he had given her a prophecy.

She had been only four years old, and she had been so excited about finding out her prophecy. After all, Isabela's prophecy was so awesome. Uncle Bruno had told her that she would someday achieve the life of her dreams and that her power would grow like the grapes that thrive on the vine.

Unfortunately, Dolores' prophecy was upsetting to hear, even as a child. The moment it had been spoken, her mother had pulled her away from Uncle Bruno, instructing her to never ask him for a prophecy ever again.

Still, she had been only four years old, and she had been too young to understand the significance of what she had heard. But now, the realization hit her like a beat against a drum.

"The man of your dreams will be just out of reach, betrothed to another..."

Uncle Bruno's words rang in her ears. It had been more than a decade later since she had first heard the line, and she only understood it now. The man of her dreams, betrothed to another...

She closed her eyes and let her tears stream freely into her pillow, as the sand behind Uncle Bruno's room continued to stream into eternity.

---

As much as Dolores dreaded it, nighttime fell again. She had spent the entire day watching Isabela be gushed over by the family. Everyone had been so excited, Isabela had been smiling like never before, and Camilo had been having so much fun imitating Mariano. After all, this was the third generation's first ever love interest—and it definitely helped to have Mariano, the golden boy of the town, as the first.

She flipped around on her bed, trying her hardest to swallow her sadness away. Everyone had been so excited, so happy. She needed to get over herself.

Closing her eyes, she found the usual voice that would help her sleep.

"It's nothing, Mama." Mariano's voice was hesitant and soft. "I don't know, maybe... maybe I'm just a bit nervous."

"Oh, don't be," his mother said. "Oh, how about this. You should read some of your poems to her."

Dolores felt her hands tighten around the pillow in protest. Somehow, the thought of Isabela listening to Mariano's poems did not sit well with her.

"What? Oh, no, no, no. Nobody likes my poems, Mama. I just write them for fun."

"Mariano, you need to be more confident in yourself."

"No, no, I'd rather... I don't know. Maybe I'll- I'll talk about my favorite poets instead. Maybe she'll like their work better."

"Alright, whatever you want to do. Just be yourself, okay?"

"Okay, Mama. Goodnight."

Her stomach twisted. Mariano had a favorite poet? Mariano was actually shy about his poems? Mariano was... nervous? There were so many things she did not know about this man, and Isabela was going to be the one to uncover them.

She let out a small whimper. She shouldn't think this way; she couldn't think this way. She had to feel happy for her older cousin, no matter what.

The usual loud, silky voice glided into her mind again, untwisting the knot in her gut. Mariano's poem. This time, it was a haiku.

"The light is gone,

And I'm desperate for one.

Shine, and guide me home."

She smiled—the first genuine smile she had all day.

"The first line only has four syllables, silly," she whispered.

Mariano did not hear her, of course. He hummed, oblivious to his mistake, as he moved on to his next poem.

And Dolores listened on, slowly drifting to sleep.

---

Mariano was as sweet and kind of a boyfriend as Dolores had imagined. She knew it was not right, but she found herself listening to his dates with Isabela.

As he promised, he did talk about his favorite poet. Unfortunately, Isabela did not read poems. He ended up reading her a few of the poet's works, which had been so wonderful to listen to. Every time Isabela praised him, he would chuckle under his breath. They talked about his plans to help his mother retire early, with which Isabela concurred wholeheartedly. They walked by a street performer and he joined in—his singing voice was even better than his reading voice, if possible. Dolores did not know he could even sing like that! He should really make his poems into songs.

Isabela was not as chatty as usual during their dates while Mariano did most of the talking. Was she also nervous? Dolores could not tell—Isa had always kept her most private thoughts to herself.

When he got home, he was sighing in happiness every other second. His mother listened, her feet tapping in excitement, as he recounted his date and described Isabela as though she was the most beautiful woman in the world—which she could very well be.

He was so happy, his mother was so happy... And Isabela was happy, Abuela was happy, the family was happy...

And Dolores was happy too. She really was. She had to be. She was happy for everyone, and she told herself that every single night.

Mariano's poems were becoming more and more about love. Or rather, the feeling of love. Maybe it was because he was experiencing it. Maybe it was because... what he had with Isabela was so strong, and so real. Whatever it was, his poems had become much longer, and more heartfelt.

"I wonder what love is,

What it entails, and what it consists.

If I take care of you, calm you as you cry,

Shoulder your burden, and lift you while you fly,

Is that enough or should there be more?

Is there something I am missing before?

Or am I selfish to wonder

For I don't know how to love her."

Dolores closed her eyes.

"I want to know too," she muttered as she closed her eyes. "But I'm glad you're finding out."

Maybe someday, another man would come and show her. For now, she was happy for Mariano. She really was. She had to be.

After all, he deserved to be loved. He deserved to be happy.

---

"I never wanted to marry him! I was doing it for the family!"

Isabella's words repeated in Dolores' mind, over and over again. When she had first heard it, her mouth had dropped wide open, before she had to shut it close again quickly. She did not want anybody to ask her what she had heard to react this way, and she really did not want to reveal what she had heard.

But the words haunted her—they were even more terrifying than any other voices that pelted at her at night. Isabela had gone on all those dates, she had smiled and laughed and talked, and yet...

That wasn't right. Isabela should not be faking her love, and Mariano did not deserve someone who doesn't love him back.

Dolores let out a sigh as she dusted the cracked floors. Today was a crazy day. Mirabel had a fight with Abuela, the family had imploded, the house had crumbled into pieces, and now, they were all building a new house with the rest of the town's help. Even till now, Dolores was not fully sure what had happened, but it did not matter too much.

All that was in her head was Isabela's shocking confession.

Her ears perked up when the sweet, familiar voice floated from the broken stairs in front.

"I just... have so much love inside..." Mariano said with a sigh.

"Y'know, I've got this cousin too," Mirabel offered. "Have you met Dolores?"

Dolores turned her head sharply towards them. There they were, a few meters behind her, sitting by the stairs and staring into the view of the town. Mirabel noticed her looking, and gave her a wink.

What little courage Dolores had shot straight into her heart like a volcano, and she leaped into action.

"Okay, I'll take it from here!" Running over and pushing Mirabel away, Dolores held Mariano's hands and let her feelings ramble out from her mouth. "You talk so loud, you take care of your mother and you make her proud. You write your own poetry every night when you go to sleep and I'm seizing the moment so won't you wake up and notice me?"

Mariano blinked before breaking into a smile. For the first time in her life, Mariano was looking at her. His dark brown eyes were almost as beautiful as his voice.

Almost.

"Dolores," he muttered; her name on his lips sent tingles down her body. "I see you."

"And I hear you."

---

The man of your dreams will be just out of reach, betrothed to another...

...Till a miracle shakes the whole house awake, love will never smother.