One Last Look at You(Bruno Madrigal x Reader)

1

You almost think Bruno Madrigal is terrified of you.

It's the way you look at him, you think. How you mostly want to see the red plushness on his face, scattered along that ridiculous huge nose of his, how he'd hide and want to dissappear entirely in his poncho when he realizes you're there talking to one of his sisters the time he went out of his tower to fetch himself an empanada.

And he wishes to whatever is above him is tormenting him right now. As much as he longs to see you everyday he doesn't wanna look at your knowing looks or hear your teasing comments that comes after every of your conversations. You just love to see him all flustered and stumbling over his words regretfully.

He doesn't quite remember how you started acting the way you do, maybe it's in your premonition to. See him how funny he look from the tips of ears to the apple of his cheeks, and how you would laugh (albeit endearingly) at his turmoil.

Today, he thinks, is the day he put an end to your endless cheesy comments and teasing.

He thinks, how, without you having to get back at him and he'll end up a blushing mess again, he's not as confident and suave as you are, he wishes he is so he's the one sweeping you off your feet and a triumphant look on his face once he's the one that made your face heat up like a kettle on the morning glory, not the other way around.

He formulates a plan on his head as he absentmindedly tends to his family's chickens feeding each one fatter than the other. His frown deepening as the flow of how it will go won't probably work out as he hoped it will. She wouldn't like that, he thinks. No, that would be rude, he crosses that out in his mind. Definitely not.

"Need any help?" asked the said girl that has been plaguing his mind as of the moment.

"¡Mierda!" he jolted, the chickens that has been pecking at his ruana and hair(one or so somehow made their way on his shoulders and hair as he was occupied with his thoughts) did as well, scurrying far away from the startled young man.

You gaped at his reaction and he slowly felt heat creeping up to his ears as you snaked a hand to cup your mouth in a giggle, like you always do. "I'm so sorry," you waved around with your other hand, laughter still stuck in your lungs.

In abashed shame, he turned away, his back facing you, and you immediately felt bad, "No, no, I'm sorry really. I didn't mean to startle you," you try to placate him back to face you. He was trying to hide his reddened face again, but you could see remnants of deepening frown on his face as you made fun of him. Yet again.

"It's just that you were so-" you tried to place the correct word. Adorable? Yes that seems to be it. He's endearing.

"Why do you always do this?" he said, though his words seem to be muffled as he hid more of himself behind his hands.

You stopped trying to stifle your giggles then, humming in response, you thought, "For the fun of it?"

"Please don't make fun of me," he squared his shoulders in either defense and shame, his words soft and sounded lost.

You sighed, your own frown coming to your face, you scratched your head because how do you explain that you only wanted to be a more or so friendly acquientance with him when you find the townspeople ignore him like a plague, or maybe you've gone too far. Regretfully you reached a comforting hand to his shoulder and he flinched, not expecting it to be soft, then he realised you've never manhandled him roughly or even touched him before, only giving him teasing comments and abrupt praises here and there. You rub a thumb, feeling the soft wool of his green ruana.

"I never made fun of you," you start. "I-maybe, I did, but I only made it fun for you...?" that seemed like a question because why bother him all this way. You only acted upon what your older brother had advices you to do which is 'tease the people you liked'