Clapping his hands to the beat, Bruno kept time as he watched his sisters dancing with elegance and flair. Their partners clearly outmatched by their skill, the man laughed at the growing crowd of onlookers who seemed to be enthralled by their ability. Aglow with mirth, Bruno lauded them as they whirled and spun around the dancefloor. Having grown closer to, and fonder of both his siblings with age, their happiness fueled his own.

The day had seen the entire town overrun with decorations as the people laughed and chatted merrily in town square, whipped into a frenzy of celebratory fervor. It was, as always, not only a celebration of the birth of the three gifted Madrigal children, but also of the town's founding, and the community's salvation from pursuers who had wished them harm. As such, games, music, and dancing seemed to break out without warning in the streets as though a collective madness had descended upon the residents of the Encanto, a whirlwind of color, and life ebbing and flowing throughout the city. Come nightfall, the fires were lit and stomachs were pushed to their limits as the feasts were many, and drinks overflowing!

For one person in particular, Bruno, this day was a much-needed respite from his habitual role as scapegoat, as in all their merriment people seemed to forget what a blight he and his ill-fated, melancholic visions were to them. Grouped together with his more popular and well liked sisters on this special occasion, no one seemed able to separate their goodwill towards the young women from their brother.

Amid all of the gifts, fun, games, and drinks that made his head spin in ways that were at once exhilarating and terrifying, Bruno himself had all but forgotten who he was. He wasn't bad-luck-Bruno, or the outcast, or the mask of a thousand dead men, not tonight. Tonight he was just one young man, taking his first steps into true adulthood. He relished it.

It was as Pepa, her nose wrinkled playfully, grabbed him by the wrist to pull him onto the dancefloor with them that Bruno spotted the one person he had been hoping to find among the crowds. Standing across the room was Hernando, a parcel tucked under one arm, his crook hanging off the elbow of the other, clapping his hands to the music as well.

"No, no, no!" Bruno shook his head, pulling away from Pepa with embarrassment, grateful for the opportunity Hernando's sudden appearance gave him to slip away. "I have to go, Hernando's here!" he called over the music, pointing and gesturing to his friend.

"One dance!" she argued. "You're such a good dancer!"

"No, I'm not!" he blushed, shaking his head. Growing up the only boy, he'd gotten pretty good at a few things, dancing and hair arrangements chief on the list. But that didn't mean he was keen on the idea of displaying such talents, and he certainly wasn't drunk enough to go for it either.

"Please!" Julieta chimed in, grabbing his other arm, her dance partner bashfully slinking away while she was distracted.

"Okay, okay, fine!" Bruno sighed, pretending to yield, hands held up in false surrender.

When his sisters had released their grips, losing themselves to the rhythm once more Bruno started tapping his foot as if picking up the beat. Then, without a word he pecked them each on the cheek, and turned to race away.

Heading straight for Hernando, he hooked an arm around him, using his momentum to carry the young man who gave a cry of surprise back into the crowds.

"Run!" Bruno shouted as his sisters began to call out demands and vent their disappointment.

Throwing his head back in a chortle, Hernando wrapped an arm about Bruno's shoulders and did as he was told. Weaving throughout the throngs of people the Madrigal son was struck with a wave of nostalgia, recalling their devil-may-care days of youth when each and every day was filled with this heart pounding excitement and lust for life.

The alcohol going to his head in ways his previous, much more moderate samplings never had, Bruno was choked by the realization of just how much had changed between then and now, and how much was likely to change in the future. Swallowing hard he forced the unexpected bitter wave of pain down in his chest.

Breathless, they only stopped once it was clear that they had reached a safe distance from the girls.

"Whoa!" Bruno gasped, listing backwards as the world lurched beneath his feet suddenly.

"Are you alright?" Hernando asked, allowing his friend to lean on him.

"I think I had too much to drink," the young prophet confessed.

"How much is too much?" Hernando chuckled.

"Not Señora-Perez-on-New-Years drunk, or Senior Acosta ... whenever -" he laughed, finding humor in his attempts to gauge his own inebriation.

"He's so mean!" Hernando whispered scandalously.

"So mean!" Bruno echoed much louder than he should have, shrinking away from the looks he received. "But, I definitely need to sit down."

The two slowly sauntered over to a quiet corner, Hernando utilizing his crook to navigate the cramped space, acted as guide this time. Though people gave him a wide berth when they saw him coming, he seemed unperturbed by their wariness of him.

Settling down on the floor Bruno felt irritated. He could not tell if Casita was moving them again, or if it was just him, and frowned hard as he tried to make sense of it as the world wobbled. As he tried to reason things out he noticed Hernando, who sat beside him, fidgeting with the bundle he'd been carrying securely under his arm.

He was about to inquire about the preciousness of the bundle when Hernando spoke first, in a bit of a rush, "Why does it always seem like when we're together we have to run from something?"

"Well maybe if we weren't always being chased we wouldn't have to run." Bruno replied with cheek.

"Well, maybe we wouldn't always get chased if you didn't give people a reason to chase us!" Hernando shot back, elbowing him.

"Me?" Bruno was agasp with indignation. "I'm as innocent as the day I was born!"

"Lies!" Hernando called loudly.

Suddenly, it was all boisterous play and laughter, as they insulted one another, tickling, and wrestling, making a real show of the last vestiges of childhood. Finally when they broke apart the two sat fighting lingering giggles, trying to regain their senses as they seemed, thankfully, to go by unnoticed and forgotten by the other party goers.

"I have something for you," Hernando announced then. Glowing with pride, in spite of the nervous look he had about him Hernando slowly slid the bundle towards Bruno. "I hope you like it." he whispered, going suddenly hoarse.

Grinning Bruno glanced back and forth between the gift that was wrapped with brown butcher's paper, and tied together with rough twine and the young man who had given it to him. Excitement thrilled through his body as he tore vigorously into the parchment. Beneath the thick paper, Bruno's fingers brushed soft fabric, unveiling a green-hued treasure beneath the drab covering that had hidden it. At last when he got the enclosed garment free, the man gave it a little shake loosening the folds to reveal a ruana.

His breath stolen away, Bruno stared at the gift, stroking the intricately woven garb with his thumbs as he held it up.

"Do you like it?" Hernando asked tentatively. "Señor Ortiz is letting me work on my own projects now, but there was only one thing I wanted to make. I told him what I wanted, and he designed the pattern for me." he went on explaining in a nervous whisper, rattling off how the cloak had come into being as he shifted where he sat.

"I had to keep count of all the rows," he was saying, as Bruno caressed the patterned hourglasses that formed a border near the hem.

The Madrigal man's mouth tugged at the corner with an affectionate smile as he took note of where the hourglasses merged, blending into one misshapen timepiece at the shoulders of the ruana. He must have lost count at some point, Bruno realized, lovingly treasuring the fault.

"I know it's not perfect," Hernando whispered.

He was right, the ruana was far from perfect. In some places the weave was too tight, in others it was too loose, and the flawed merger in the pattern was glaringly obvious. Bruno stared at the imperfect perfection of the gift, one that reflected weaver who had crafted it. Misty-eyed, he slipped it on over his head, warmed inside and out, Bruno hugged himself tightly in the cloak.

"It's beautiful, I love it!" Bruno announced, earning a prideful grin from his friend.

"Really?"

"Really."

Reaching out, Hernando started fussing, and messing with hems of the ruana. He tugged the clothes here and there, smoothing it across Bruno's frame as if to assure himself that the fit was correct, making the wearer's heart flutter beneath his hands.

"There was something else I wanted to give you, but it's a secret," he mumbled, toying with the hood a few ratitos were scurrying in and out of. "Is anyone watching?"

Bruno glanced about, a brow raised with catlike mischief and curiosity, "No," he grinned. "Wh-" he began to ask when Hernando tugged the hood high up over Bruno's head, pulling him forward as he did.

Their lips met in a jarring crash as Hernando held him close. The world spun, Bruno's head was light but not with alcohol as a fire roared to life within. Soul singing, he relished the soft, warm feel of Hernando's lips on his own, everything in him crying out for more. His mind began racing with a million questions and possibilities he was unable to, for a second, enjoy the moment. Then, he got lost in it.

Pulling apart, an amorous hunger and excitement coursing through Bruno he stared at the other man, not daring to even breathe. Then the shock and surprise wore off, replaced instead by fear, guilt, and a newfound form of shame. His eyes darting from side to side Bruno looked with anxiety for any witnesses to the beautiful display of love that was beginning to feel more and more like a crime.

"What the hell?" he snapped, shoving the weaver's apprentice away.

Hernando's eyes wide, his expression faltered. Face paling, the blind boy started stammering a torn apology and looked ready to cry. That look cleaved Bruno's heart in two as he did battle with himself.

Hernando, to be happy with Hernando; this was all he ever wanted, and yet a part of Bruno knew it was the one thing he could never have. That just wasn't the way the world, in all its ugliness, hate, and cruelty worked.

The anguish written on Hernando's face as he began to weep and search of a way out of their hiding place threatened to be Bruno's undoing. His soul bleeding with a sharp mingle of dread and desire Bruno heard Hernando curse himself as he stood. Then, without much thought, but steeped in need Bruno yanked a flinching Hernando to him and kissed him back with a passion he'd kept locked away for years.

Spilling tears when they separated they sat in one another's arms, in a state of bewildered awe at this new revelation. Blissfully, and frightfully oblivious of the celebration going on around them, they pulled apart, but only just, as their hands found each other, and though their fingers intertwined in a familiar way. Though now the gesture, somehow, felt wholly new, and different. It was somehow stronger, and meant more than it ever had in the past. They sat isolated on an island of their own making, a sea of dancing color rolling about them, tempest tossed by the harsh winds of reality that couldn't quite seem to touch them in their refuge, not in that moment.

"I love you." Hernando said, his tone conveying the depth of the contrite emotions that accompanied such a bold and impactful statement.

Remembering how to breathe at last an overjoyed Bruno laughed, "I love you too! So, so much!"

The young couple sat quietly murmuring to one another long held secrets of love and mutual admiration. Tears fell, laugher was shared, and meaningful touches exchanged as the party and world moved on without them. Then, as they cuddled close, dreaming by starlight there was a thunderous crack in the sky that rang out like a bell tolling doom. Light flared across the heavens, as people cheered and applauded the appearance of fireworks. Hernando caught off guard buckled, crouching low in fear, ears covered.

Bruno, however, was unaware of any of this.

Staring vacantly for a moment, all he could hear was the sharp whistle of falling artillery. The earth shattering explosions impossibly close, he felt them jarring through his bones. Then he heard the screaming, so much screaming, voices languishing in tongues he couldn't understand crying out their pain and suffering to an indifferent God. The wars, too many, and too horrendous to name, and far more difficult to forget came back to him in a single agonizing rush. Another burst shattered the sky, and fighting many unseen foes with bloodstained hands that had been unable to stop the suffering of so many, Bruno began to scream.

He screamed and cried and fought even as someone pulled him to his feet, like a good soldier. One foot falling in front of the other he struggled, half dragged away while a voice called out his name, his real name, not one of the many he wore in his dreams, over a seemingly vast distance. Bruno was trapped there, in that haunting, morbid cage of his own mind, unable to respond. Guided and listless he was dimly aware of the flooring beneath his feet falling away, replaced by warm sands until he stumbled, fell, and was in the end kneeling in it.

Strong arms wrapped about him as Hernando held Bruno to his chest, rocking slowly, back and forth, muttering words of comfort one minute, screaming obscenities at interlopers who stood with the door ajar demanding to know what heinous visions their seer had just received. His mind slowly, and sporadically coming back to him, Bruno's form was numb and cold. He watched as Hernando tore away across the sands to shove party goers away, slamming the illuminated door closed behind them.

"Hernando?" Bruno managed in a thin whisper.

"It's going to be alright," Hernando assured, rushing back to his side. "It's going to be alright, I have you, I promise."

"They're dead!" Bruno wept, gripping his own hair with both hands. "They're all dead!"

"I know, mi vida, mi amor, I know... and I am so sorry!" Hernando cried, Bruno heard the words, words he had craved to hear for longer than he could remember wanting anything, but in this moment they were hollow and meaningless. "It's not your fault, it's not your fault!"

"It hurts!" Bruno wailed, trying to pull away when Hernando reached for him. "Why? Why me? Why?"

"I don't know. Breathe, just breathe. It'll pass, it always does. Just breathe," Hernando murmured soothingly.

"I'm dying!"

"You're not. You're safe Bruno. You're safe. Do you feel my arms around you? I've got you. You're safe. Just breathe."

"I want to die!"

"No. Stay with me. Just breathe." Hernando whispered again and again like a prayer, listening as the other man cursed having ever been born.

Bruno struggled to stay at his side, drifting in and out of that warm sunny place that was his room, and back to all the unhallowed battlefields strewn with inhumane carnage and horror that imprisoned him. 

Somewhere in the back of his consciousness  Bruno knew it would be a night the town would long remember, and little let him forget…