Encanto Oneshots

Breathe

Reordered from best to worst, in my opinion. enjoy, ily all <3

Breathing was hard.  

Every breath Mirabel took didn't fill her lungs, and she only wanted to gulp down more and more and more until her lungs were ice cold and full of air and she was choking.

She was still. Very still. Her breaths were shallow, too quick-paced, but in the middle of a loud, crowded party, no one noticed her at all. Colors flashed around her; animals exploring their new home. People were milling about, and she could feel the heat they emanated clouding around her, blocking off the fresh air. Someone's elbow brushed hers, and someone bumped into her side, and she could feel the whoosh of air ruffling her skirt, but she was still. 

Some barked at her to move. Jerkily, she pulled herself towards her family, hoping to get lost in the dazzle of Isabela's flowers and Pepa's storms and Camilo's shape-shifting. She wanted to be invisible again, she wanted to disappear, she wanted out of the weaving crowd, but the hand on her wrist held on with an unwavering grip.

"Alma!" Señora Garcia exclaimed, pulling Mirabel along behind her, "Alma! You forgot one, Amiga. It's hard to keep track of them all, isn't it?"

Abuela was stoic as always, an unreadable wall of stone. Mirabel wanted to shrink down to nothing, because that blank, apathetic stare was fixed on her, and Abuela was gazing straight into Mirabel's eyes. She ducked her head instinctively, trying to avoid her line of sight. 

It wasn't Señora Garcia's fault. She didn't know that Mirabel wasn't wanted in that photo, and that Mirabel was perfectly fine with that. She was certain that if she tried to group up with them, she would be smothered in a sea of rainbows and petals and feathers and fur, and she would be trapped in by a pillar of muscle and motherly affections and icy-cold gazes, and she would drown.

The air was getting more heated and the people were packed together more densely, and she was hitting people's elbows and arms left and right, and Señora Garcia was tugging her along merrily. Mirabel tried to breathe, but she was suffocated by the people surrounding her and she was trapped between faceless bodies, and she needed out. 

Suddenly, the hand gripping her wrist felt like burning coals on her skin, and the flashes of heat shocked through her arm. Mirabel's eyes teared up, and she scrubbed at them, desperately trying to get rid of the tears.

Let me out let me out I need out-

Without even thinking about it, she yanked her hand away from Señora Garcia's hand, pushing and shoving her way to the exit. The door glowed hauntingly, whispering you failed the one thing you were supposed to be guaranteed. You disappointed your family, your whole life was building up to this moment and you bombed it, and-

She opened the door so hard it hit the wall behind it, but no one could hear it over the overpowering buzz of intermingling voices. The outside air was like getting splashed with a  bucket of ice, but she paid it no mind, distracted by the all-encompassing urge to get out out out.

She took off, racing down the stairs and away from the celebration behind her, hair swept back by the wind and her skirt swooshing wildly. The air was cold and she was panting, but the adrenaline was pumping through her veins and she wasn't choking on cramped air, and she was running.

Something about it was perfect. The moon shone above her head, illuminating her path just enough for her not to go skidding and sprawling on the floor. Before she knew it, she was out of the Casita, bolting toward the town, and her lungs were full and cold and alive, and she felt real again. Nothing could reach her here. She wasn't a fake Madrigal, she wasn't a poser, she was alive and real and in the moment. Her hair was in her face, but she didn't care, because her feet were pounding a steady thump thump thump beat, and the air was going down her throat smoothly. Her worries weren't real,  here under this shining moon, not with her feet hitting the path and sending dust flying every which way, not with her hair flying all over the place, not with her hands stretched out and her skirt billowing behind her and her lungs being filled with real air.

Without warning, her foot caught on a stray rock, and she fell to the floor, barely catching herself with her hands. Pain shot up her arm, and her palms were coated in dirt, but she didn't care. She was outside of that suffocating house, she wasn't drowning in the sea of extraordinary people and their busy lives, she was out here living her own. She was out here, running as fast as she could and learning how to breathe again, and they were miles behind her. She was out here, and everything was okay in this deserted, quiet, moonlit town, and so was she.

She was okay. For the next few minutes, for the next few moments, she was okay, and no one was going to get to her.