Agustín had been young enough, when Bruno started seeking him out, that it felt like he’d known Bruno his whole life.

It wasn’t true, of course. Bruno was only a few years older than Agustín, and hadn’t gotten his gift until he was five. But practically since Agustín could remember, Bruno had been appearing on the peripheries of his life. Even as a little kid, the older boy been a bit skittish, but he would show up first thing in the morning at Agustín’s house with food from Julieta, deliver it as quickly as he could, with some sort of stammering explanation that usually didn’t make much sense, and then flee back to the casa Madrigal.

Inevitably, those would be the days that Agustín would fall and skin his knees, or run afoul of bees, or, on one memorable occasion where Bruno showed up with a whole basket of arepas and a slightly haunted look, Agustín broke both wrists falling from a tree.

He’d finally sought Bruno out himself the next day.

Or, he’d tried to, anyway. It turned out that when Bruno didn’t want to be found, he was quite good at disappearing. Agustín had asked señora Madrigal where he was, but she hadn’t known. Instead, Agustín had found himself in the Madrigal’s kitchen with Julieta. He’d never met any of the family aside from Bruno, so he was a little bit startled at how at ease Julieta had been. When he told her so, she grinned at him.

“Oh, Bruno hasn’t told you yet?”

Agustin had blinked at her. “Told me what?”

She’d poked him in the chest. “Future Madrigal.” She’d told him in a conspiratorial whisper. He’d just stared at her for a moment, but by the time he managed to come up with any questions to ask, señora Madrigal had appeared in the kitchen doorway, and Julieta had shushed him meaningfully.

So he kept looking for Bruno.

Julieta had told him to try checking by the stream behind the house, so Agustín had gone there next, and found Bruno crouched by the water, holding something in his hand and talking quietly.

“Who are you talking to?”

Apparently Bruno hadn’t heard Agustín come up behind him. With a yelp, he shot to his feet, spinning to face Agustín, and missed his footing on the edge of the stream. He toppled into the water, and Agustín ran to help him up, but Bruno wasn’t really paying attention to him anymore, shaking his wet hair out of his eyes and frantically searching the stream for something.

“What are you looking for?” Agustín had asked, perplexed.

Bruno hadn’t even looked up. “A rat, about this big–” He held up his hands as though Agustín didn’t know how big rats were. “I lost her when I fell–”

Agustín still didn’t understand, but he looked. He spotted something moving downstream and ran after it. The stream was deeper here, and he slogged into the water up to his hips to scoop up the swimming rat, trying not to feel grossed out. But Bruno was right behind him, and plucked the rodent gently from his hand, talking quietly to it and offering it a crumb of something that looked suspiciously like Julieta’s cooking. Agustín decided not to ask, as Bruno carefully tucked the rat under his shirt.

“Is…she your pet?” He asked instead.

“What? Oh, no, she just likes me. There are a bunch of them, but mamá doesn’t like it when I feed them in the house, and they don’t like to stay in my tower all the time.”

Agustín blinked at him. “You have a tower?”

“Well technically it’s my room, but–yeah.” Bruno had offered him a shy smile. “Thanks for helping. I know people don’t really like rats.” He still had his hand protectively over where the rodent was hiding in his shirt. Agustín wondered if he’d forgotten they were both standing in a cold stream. It really was quite cold, and Bruno was more soaked than Agustín was.

“Sorry for startling you.”

“That? Oh.” Bruno waved his free hand dismissively. “I startle too easy, everyone says so.”

For a moment, they’d stood in awkward silence. Agustín was pretty sure this was the longest conversation he’d had with Bruno. Usually by now the older boy would have hurried off back to his house.

“What does Julieta mean I’m a ‘future Madrigal’?”

Bruno blanched. He’d already been looking a little pale from his dip in the stream, but now he looked ashen. “You weren’t supposed to know about that.”

Agustín frowned at him. “...Why not?”

Bruno still looked like he’d been slapped, and wouldn’t meet his eyes. “My mamá said it should be your decision. And Julieta’s.”

Agustín grinned. “So I marry Julieta?”

Bruno blanched all over again. “I didn’t say that,–I–”

But Agustín couldn’t stop smiling. He’d only met Julieta that day, but he was quite sure she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. He already loved her cooking–not to mention relying on it to stay in one piece–and he liked Bruno too. “Does that mean we’re going to be brothers?”

That seemed to stop Bruno’s mind entirely in its tracks. “What?”

“If I marry Julieta, that makes us brothers, right?”

Bruno blinked owlishly at him. Agustín was fairly sure this hadn’t dawned on him before. “Oh, yeah.”

“Is that why you always bring me food?”

Bruno shook his head. It made his wet hair bounce. “I bring you food because half the time when I have a vision it’s about you walking face-first into a bee hive.”

“And because we’re going to be brooo-theeers.” Agustín crowed.

“Stop that,” Bruno splashed stream water on him, but he was smiling. They both froze at the sound of señora Madrigal calling Bruno’s name from the house. Agustín took in the older boy’s wide eyes, and the fact that they were both still soaked, and came to a quick decision.

“I’ll distract her while you sneak inside!” He announced, scrambling out of the stream before Bruno could stop him. “Then you won’t get in trouble.” He ran towards the house without looking back, still beaming with excitement.

Lackluster

Spackle

Dimmer

Antithesis

& THEME

Middle of night

i got some ideas here we go, you get a whole song: for some reason i wrote a break up song?

eh, its something

PATCHING THE CRACKS (of my heart)

staring at the moon watching the lights of the stars get dimmer left my phone on my nightstand your message an antithesis to my heartstrings' tune

this night is feeling so lackluster patching the cracks of my broken heart like spackle to a broken wall hard to imagine you used to make me fluster

the moon is high its the middle of the night im patching the cracks of my heart cuz the end of us is nigh

take my silence as a goodbye you know im right your words stung worse than a dart darling dont try and lie

im staring at the moon watching the lights of the stars get dimmer left my phone on the nightstand your message an antithesis to my heartstrings' tune

this night is feeling so lackluster patching the cracks of my broken heart like spackle to a broken wall hard to imagine you used to make me fluster

enjoying the cool night breeze from my windowsill letting it dry my tears as i patch up with cracks of my heart dont care if i catch a chill