[DISCONTINUED] CAPTIVATED || CAMILO M.

twelve.

Bruno led the two of you back inside his humble abode, occasionally sending glances as if worried he'll freak you out and you'll run away like everyone else does. But you were preoccupied with examining the room this 50-year-old man lived in for ten years to even reassure the anxious man. The warm light embraces the space with a homely shade.

It was a small room with random objects scattered around on the desks and floor, three rats scurrying around the ragged carpet playing with a miniscule ball of cheese. A large chair enveloped in dust rested in the middle, facing a mini-version of a theater. There were even tiny red curtains and a well-crafted stage. It was clear the man didn't change his clothes over time, there was no single trace of a wardrobe or any other clothing at all that wasn't his green ruana, white shirt, pants, and worn out sandals.

"I-It's not much," He stuttered, fingers fidgeting as he settled down onto the seat. "but at least I have company." He referred to the rats playing around on a dirty handkerchief. Mirabel rotated her head to take in the room's messy state, it was just as filthy as the first time she came in here.

You could only watch the man with a condoling gaze. He was trying to show you how he felt content in his small space, picking up a few cards that had drawings of a man and a woman with holes where the faces should've been. As if on cue, two rats slipped from a corner and their heads popped out of the cardboard cutouts.

"Look look, what do you like, sports," he flipped off the sea-themed card to reveal a sports field with painted dots at the back to resemble an audience. "cooking shows," he flipped off the card again, now showing the two rats in chef costumes in a masterchef kitchen. "telenovelas?" For the last time, he flipped off the card and showed a drawing of a dress and a man in a tuxedo adjacent to the woman's body. Bruno slumped into his seat, admiring his work.

"Their love could never be." Mirabel and her tío chorused, sharing a moment of laughter.

Bruno took notice of you staring off into the distance as you tilted your head quizzically as you took your time to gather your thoughts, still having trouble processing all of this. Although, the man thought differently. "Well, you see, it's because she's his aunt and has amnesia. S-So, so, she doesn't remember she's his aunt." He explained enthusiastically.

"What?" You asked, snapping back into reality.

Mirabel placed a hand on your shoulder, "He never left permanently, from us."

"Then why is he hiding?"

"My gift wasn't really helping anyone," He took the chance to answer your question himself, face flushed in between his shoulders. "And I love my family, you know? I also promised your mother to watch over you when the time comes."

A promise to your mother, huh. So they were close. You could never have expected that. "I see." You muttered, not really in the mood to indulge yourself with that newfound information right now, taking notice of a small wooden table and chair particularly positioned at the side to distract yourself. A small hole allowed some light to peer through, illuminating the drawing etched onto the flat surface.

'Bruno', it said with flowery designs adorning the circle. Your hand gently traced over the illustration of the plate that laid in between the also-one-dimensional spoon and fork. You took your face close to the wall to peek into the hole, closing your other eye as you did so. A small view of the Madrigals' currently empty dining table. The hole was from the wall stationed from behind the chair Alma usually sits on.

He had been eating together with his family in secret, he was with them during every birthday celebration, every thanksgiving, every noche buena, every breakfast, lunch, and dinner. While they ate and had no clue of the forgotten family member. The very thought of Bruno waiting patiently from the walls while they settled down and played along as they say a prayer before every meal, dining in with his imaginary food, was enough to bring warm tears to your eyes.