I Dream of Disney (Volume II)

I Remember Bruno (no, no) [Bruno Madrigal x Reader] Part IV

Part IV - Acting is Tree-Acting (Don't Worry. You'll Get it Later)

I remember how nervous Bruno was when he told me that one agonising, irrefutable truth: no one could know about us.

The entire time that he spoke to me – I remember it was a crisp winter day, the air thick with mist that made his dark hair curl and frizz in a way I found completely adorable – that his hands were flighty, moving around his body as if grasping for intangible things. Being completely honest, I hadn't been listening. My fingers had found one of the defined curls and I was twisting it gently, watching the way it bounced back to position near his ear. I reached for it again.

"So you understand that no one can know about it – not yet," Bruno spoke hastily.

"Mmm-hmm."

"It's not that I don't want to tell anyone," Bruno stammered, "I want to tell everyone – but – but Mama wouldn't understand. She wants to be the one to choose my – my future - " He shook himself slightly, as if chilled. "We need to wait."

"Mmm-hmm."

"I'll think of something to say, to make her understand," Bruno rambled, his eyes sweeping nervously for anyone who could be awake so early, tending the cotton fields, "She needs to know how important you are to me, and if someone else tells her, she'll be - "

"Mmm-hmm..."

It was after about five more of these little mumbles that Bruno finally caught on. It was just as I curled my finger through the dark coil, watching in fascination as it bounced from my finger and brushed delicately on his cheek, that Bruno's hand caught mine. I gasped, surprised – his lips were cool and moist from the mist, sweeping across my mouth.

"Mi cielo," Bruno's voice was husky, "Pay attention."

The way that he stared at me with those big, beautiful hazel eyes – I felt my stomach start to bubble as if I'd left the pasta for too long without stirring it. I was pretty sure I tilted my head and smiled cutely up at him, hoping that I had at least a fraction of the affect he had on me.

It worked – his brows dipped and his eyes lost their focus, becoming dazed and hazy.

"Why on earth would I do that, cariño?" I kissed the corner of his mouth softly, hearing his breath catch, "When I get rewarded so handsomely?"

Bruno's lip quivered, just lightly at the edge, as he fought a smile. Endearing, he'd once said. He was not so much taller than me, and he had cursed my growth spurt at eighteen with more vigor than I previously thought possible, as he was trying to show me the various ways in which he could be masculine: which consisted of him walking straight-backed as if he'd broken his neck, his forearms bulging as if carrying invisible watermelons and a constant expression of 'heroic chivalry' (read: grimacing pain). He wasn't much taller than me, but he was Bruno-taller. He was perfect.

"Then," A mischievous glint in those sun-gilded eyes, "I just won't kiss you."

A smirk curled my bottom lip as the idea imbedded itself into my mind. Stretching up, allowing my arms to rake up his body and tie around his neck – fingers dragging slowly through his hair, in the way that drove him wild – I gazed into his eyes. They were shiny, part-nervous. Still trying to be full of mischief, but knowing my mischief was far more deadly. I loved this boy. Too much.

"No?" I pouted.

"No," Bruno willed his voice to be firm, but the shudder up his back broke him.

I got so close to him that my eyelashes dragged against his cheek. My breath steamed his jaw, fluttering a few of his dark curls away from his face. When I spoke, my lips brushed against his skin – he trembled.