a/n: More of a part II to the last chapter.

Calling the posts “Parts” now because chapter is a lot to type.

• Following her little midnight adventure, her Abuela sent her to her room. Adelita spent the day nestled in a cocoon of blankets, basking in the sunlight, napping in the nook of her window. Her lizard, Pegajoso, dozed on her forehead. She spent the day sleeping off her exhaustion.
• Her Abuela Susana meanwhile spent her time tending to the garden. In her younger days, Abuela Susana had cared for the garden with her daughter and she still loved it. The neatly raised beds of herbs and perfect rows of marigolds in between, pathed with varnished wood planks.
• Susana bit at the smile that threatened to form as a rat scurried across her path. She’d wouldn’t let her granddaughter know, but she’d grown not to mind the pests. If she told Lita, she worried the little girl would invite hoards into their home and that she decided was too much.
• Her granddaughter is so gentle.
• “She loves you, you know.” She stated, seemingly to no one. “We all make mistakes. What’s important is we learn from them. Nuestro familia es tuyo.”
• Before closing the garden for the evening, she left a serving of bandeja pasia on the patio table.
• Adelita awoke the next morning, still a bit groggy. Pegajoso was tangled in her hair. After getting dressed, combing her hair out, and enjoying breakfast with her abuela, Adelita headed out. She had plans with Antonio.
• She was startled at first to see Bruno waiting at the head of the path; the one connecting her house to the rest of the community. Nonetheless, she took his hand. And so they went down the winding road, quietly enjoying each other’s company.
• It was weird, the quiet. It made Bruno uneasy. He was so used to bubbly chatterboxing Adelita. The Lita that could go on for hours about a funny hat she'd seen or babble nonsense words to an impromptu song. But he understood. It would take her a while to open up to him again.
• As the two came to a break in the jungle, the end of their path. They stared ahead in silence. Involuntarily, Bruno tightened his grasp around the little girl’s hand.
• “Are you okay, Bruno? Bruni?” She asked gently, staring up at him, eyes full of concern.
• All the food and reassuring talks, Bruno realized she’d been taking care of him. Unintentionally. As caring for others just seemed to be a part of what made her tick. Nonetheless, Adelita was a child, so innocent, a baby. He should’ve been taking care of her.
• “Hmm? I’m fine,” he assured. With a hand, he moved her forward, leading her off of the dirt path onto the cobblestone street of town. He let her hand go. She halted back to him, looking ahead into town, then looked back at him over his shoulder. “Go on. Go ahead. Go live.” He smiled, motioning for her to keep moving forward.
• Bruno decided to take up the mantle, self appointing himself her second guardian, her invisible protector. Yes, she spent part of the day in town either completing her chores or following Antonio, but he never let his guard down.
• He felt more at ease knowing where she was at all times and whether she was with someone.
• Noticing Antonio, and another child running past, grabbed his curiosity. Adelita ran after the pair, falling a few meters behind. He moved out of the bushes in front of her. He managed to go unnoticed by the other two children, as they were now far ahead. Adelita didn’t hit the brakes fast enough. She collided with him, leading to her falling backwards to the ground.
• “Bruno!” Adelita whined.
• “Where are you going, pequeña?” He asked, helping her up.
• “Al rio, we’re going to race leaf boats.” Adelita quickly responded, trying to manoeuvre around him. But he held his arms wide, moving so that she couldn’t get around.
• Bruno chuckles as she pouts. “We? Who all is going?”
• “Antonio, Alejandra, and me,” she grumbles childishly, crossing her arms over her chest. “Can I go now? Please!?” Bruno released her, and she was off again.
• “Adios pequeña!” he called, watching her sprint toward the hill.
• “Don’t jump out of bushes. It's creepy!”
• To the best of his ability, hidden in the shadows, he tries to get involved in a number of things Adelita does. He helps her with her chores, commonly tidying her room for her when she’s out. He’s braid her hair, something for whatever reason she never asked Abuela S. to do. There were picnic lunches to stockpile food for, drawings to save, and healing hugs to administer when she was upset.
• “Can I braid your hair?” Adelita asked suddenly, scrambling out of Bruno’s lap. The two sat beneath a tree up in one of the hills behind Adelita’s house. “Please? It’s okay if no.”
• “Por supuesto querida,” Bruno replied.
• “Hooray. You can braid Juliana’s hair,” Adelita said, handing him her favourite yarn haired cloth doll. Bruno tenderly took the doll, noting the tiny fabric bandage wrapped around one of their arms. “Be careful, though. She’s recovering from a attack. Pegajoso bit her, they had a disagreement.” She explained using finger quotes around the word ‘disagreement’. “Why’s your hair two colors? Are you old?”
• “Lita!”
• He put a definite end to midnight chats. Which initially made Lita sad. But he spoke softly and assured her that he wasn’t going to disappear again. It’s just that kids need sleep. She could tell him all about her adventures during their morning walks.
• Sitting on Bruno’s shoulders, Adelita reached high, letting Pegajoso crawl off her hand to a nearby branch. “Bruno, why do cows sleep standing up?” She questioned, leaning forward so that his face was in front of his. “Don’t their legs get sleepy? I think they do.”
• Bruno stopped. “I don’t know, querida. I guess you should ask one and find out.” He replied, bumping her nose with his forehead.
• “I can’t, I don’t speak cow.” She scrunched her nose up, giggling, and promptly sat back up straight.
• “I do,” Bruno quipped.
• The girl squealed, tugging at his hair. He didn’t expect her to get so excited. “For real life!?” She beamed, her obvious excitement giving her grin a little boyish quality.
• “Uh huh,” he nodded. “Moo!” He bellowed out, making Lita burst into a fit of bubbly laughter.
• “Moo!” she mimicked, still laughing.
• “Moo!”
• He was an imperfect guardian. He had strengths and weaknesses. He recognised that he couldn't always be there, but promised himself and Lita (unbeknownst to her) to be fully present in every moment he could. (Between you and me, dear reader, I don’t think he quite realized what he was becoming.)
• She still worried, Adelita did, that one day he’d change his mind and yet again leave, abandoning her without a word. 
• There were moments, and Bruno noticed. She’d hold herself stiff. Her face would blank, eyes glassy and distant. All the warm feelings he knew her to display would quit.
• It would just happen. Antonio noticed too. 
• When he did, the little boy would pull her aside, away from everything and ask if she wanted a hug; the answer was almost never no.
• Bruno attempted once to question her. She walked beside him. Noticing her lost look, he stopped, crouching in front of her. “¿Querida? ¿Estás bien, pequeña?” He asked, softening his already tender town. He brushed some mislaying hairs behind her ear. Her hair was down that day.
• “Si pa- Bruno.” She blinked, scrunching her nose, her lost look dissipating. “Estoy bien,” she assured.
• “Te amo, pequeño. I like the new hair.” he said, tussling the top of her head.
• Lita’s melodic giggle warmed his heart. “También te amo, Bruno.”
• In spite of this, Adelita was happy with everything, in the innocent way children are. She enjoyed any fun with Antonio, felt somewhat confident with Bruno, and had managed with Antonio’s help to befriend the spirited Alejandra. Now she has two friends!
• When she’d told Bruno she’d explained, “I basically have a whole hand of friends now.” She felt like hot stuff.
• “Abuela, could I have someone over for dinner?”
• She coughs. She’s been doing that recently. “Ah, Antonio, such a sweet boy, pero por supuesto abejita.”
• “Noo. Someone else. Please?”
• Abuela Susana eyes the little girl. Adelita fidgets a bit, nervous, under the old woman’s gaze, but nonetheless manages a sweet, small grin. With a knowing, closed-lipped smile, Susana nodded.
• “Hooray!” Lita exclaimed, jumping from the stool on which she was perched.
• “Ahora, ¿qué dices?”
• “Bless you,” Adelita replied, holding her hands together as if to pray.
• Susana playfully rolled her eyes, “No tonta, gracias.”
• “Gracias,” Adelita responded in a goofy, almost mocking manner.
• “Sal de aquí!” Susana laughed, teasingly hitting Lita with her towel.
• Lita giggled, then childishly stuck her tongue out as she backed out and shut the front door behind herself. Seeing Bruno ahead waiting for her, she beamed.
• “Bruno!” In seconds she stood before him, wrapping her arms around his legs in a form of a hug. “Bruni?” She began, whilst looking up at him. “What’s your favourite thing in the whole widest world to eat?”

a/n: More of a part II to the last chapter.

Calling the posts “chapters” because I want to.

• Adelita couldn’t help but let her eyes wander around the small, cluttered space. She sat in the worn red seat, a warm mug of tea between her hands, her small legs dangling meters above the floor.
• “Thank you for the tea. And- and the ruana, it’s very warm. I just need something one of the rats took. Then I’ll go. You won’t have to see me again.” She said, pulling the ruana that brought her so much comfort off. She held it out for him to take, avoiding his gaze the whole time.
• She silently, carefully, searched the room. There was stuff everywhere, but she noticed immediately the absence of something important. A bed.
• All Bruno could do at first was watch, watch as she carefully tiptoed around his things as if she were afraid the slightest touch would shatter them. Watch as she gently spoke to his rat’s, asking them about whatever she was missing.
• He hadn’t seen her in a month. She seemed the same but felt different. Still polite, still tentative - however, the light behind her eyes had dimmed - still precious.
• “What’s the funniest thing you saw this week?”
• Adelita briefly tensed as her conversation with rat number four was interrupted, then shrugged.
• She wanted to tell him all about Antonio slipping into the shallow river while they’d been jumping on the rocks. And how he pulled her after him when he caught her laughing. She wanted to tell him the day it happened, but he wasn’t there.
• Besides, he was just making conversation, or being polite as her Abuela would say.
• The rat appeared from a crack in the boarded up wall, the crumpled paper still held between its teeth. It shook off some cement dust and scurried to Bruno. Dropping the paper on the table in front of the man.
• Panic set in once more as her mental faculties surrendered to her emotions, waiting for Bruno to begin to unravel the crumpled parchment.
• “No, don’t touch that! You don’t touch this! Don’t ever touch it! It’s mine!“ Adelita snapped, ripping the paper from his grasp. The sudden outburst caught both of them off guard.
• She looked away as her lips trembled, eyes filling to the brim with tears she refused to let fall.
• But Bruno noticed.
• She backed away and cowered in the corner of the beaten chair.
• She hadn’t meant to yell. She hadn’t.
• “It’s okay, you don’t like me anymore.” She started softly, averting her gaze to the floor. “I’m not mad. I understand. It’s all my fault. I’m always telling you about things, keeping you up, giving you leaves, and silly colourings. I’m sorry.”
• Bruno had never seen the little girl so… so broken.
• He cautiously sat beside her. They were both silent. Both unwilling, too scared to look at the other.
• “You know… my favorite part of the day was hearing about yours.”
• Their eyes met. Her eyes, flecks of deep brown married with lighter caramel hues, searched for the slightest bit of dishonesty.
• Bruno noticed her subconsciously picking at the thread poking out of the fabric, and couldn’t stop the small smile that formed on his lips.
• “All the silly drawings and shiny leaves.” He teasingly poked at her side, making her crumple over, almost managing a smile. “I wouldn’t trade them for anything,” he added, looking over to crate crudely labeled ‘mi cariña’
• He wouldn’t. Every coloring page, every leaf she thought looked cool, he’d saved.
• She gave a hint of a smile. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished.
• “Then why did you go?”
• There was another silence.
• Adelita sighed, sinking into her seat. “Everyone leaves eventually.”
• Bruno tracked her eyes to the paper, now unraveled, in her hands.
• It was a photo of what he recognized as Adelita’s Abuela, a younger, smaller version of the little girl and a man he could only assume was her father.
• She’d talk at length about her family before. About her Abuela, and mama. How her parents met. However, he now realized she never went into great detail papa.
• “He left too.“
• “I didn’t leave because of you, chiquita. I left because of me.”
• Adelita reluctantly tore her eyes away from the photo.
• “Because I’m Bruno and I make bad things happen. You were so happy. I didn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”
• She heard him mutter something about a goldfish.”
• “Bruno? What do you mean you make bad things happen?”
• In all the time she’d known him, he’d been nothing but weird, good weird and kind.
• “Bruni?” She placed a small hand on his shoulder.
• He still melts when she calls him Bruni.
• He smiled at them, then he pulled her onto his lap. She went on guard, fingers curling into the fabric of her night skirt. Though she knows it’s just Bruno, her emotions and history gave way to mistrust.
• “I’m going to tell you a story,” Bruno says, tenderly brushing some of the tears that’d glazed her cheeks away with his thumb.
• “I do like stories,” she whispered, wiping the snot beneath her nose off with the sleeve of her nightgown.
• Bruno chuckles softly. He knows she does.
• Bruno told his truth, in the simple way one would tell a young child, in the words of fable. He told her of the fantastical Madrigal family and all they could do, and of the one Madrigal son who stained their name. So one day they he left.
• Her distress had faded. Concern and sympathy became her lead emotions as she listened.
• When his story concluded, she didn’t hesitate, wrapping her arms around his torso.
• “That story needs a happier ending. You should go back to your family. I’m sure they miss you.” She told him.
• Bruno seemed slightly taken aback by the little one’s words, carefully returning her hug.
• “I’m sorry I yelled. I’m tired, I got eated by the house, I thought you left… cause of me, but still I shouldn’t have yelled at you. That was mean rude. Will you forgive me?” She apologised, gripping on her hair. Adelita looked up at him, her chocolate eyes shining with hope.
• He couldn’t explain the sense of innocence he felt from her. The urge to shield her from all harm was incredibly strong.
• (Perhaps stronger than it had already been.)
• “Never because of you. I felt it was better for you. But it was not okay for me to leave, especially the way that I did. I’m sorry I disappeared. I’m sure that was hurtful and scary for you. Tu eres mi familia. Mi familia es tu familia. Can you forgive me?”
• Her lips curved upward, and she tugged at her curls.
• He began to trip over his words. “I know, I know it’ll-it’ll take time to earn your trust again and I don’t deserve a second chan-“
• She didn’t let him finish, hugging him as tight as she possibly could. She happily exhaled, snuggling against his chest.
• “Mi familia. Mine,” she hummed.
• Adelita sat on Bruno’s shoulders as he walked her home.
• The sun would be rising soon.
• She was exhausted, emotionally and physically. Though Bruno was speaking, she couldn’t make out a thing he said. She was losing to the stealthy and quiet lure of sleep.
• “Ah! Abejita! What are you doing out here!?” Adelita awoke on the front step of her home, to the panicked voice of her Abuela. “Look at you, bebé, you’re filthy. What is this dust? Abejita are your alright.” Adelita couldn’t get word out as her grandmother cupped her cheeks, checking her over.
• She let out a tired hum, lightly removing Abuela's hands from her cheeks. “I’m fine Abuela. Sleepy, buuut… fine.”