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mintffxiv · 10 months

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My thoughts on FFXVI - Full Game Spoilers

Ranking 7.5/10

As I only completed it a couple of hours ago some thoughts might change with time and if there are DLC's or other information after time has passed. My thoughts are also emotionally charged and sporadically disjointed but I will try to keep on point. Speaking of points I'm going to bullet point each thought to try and not ramble as I always do so I can get personal catharsis from writing my feelings out. So this is definitely also a release post because I need to get my feelings out.

Also has Encanto spoilers but I've pointed out where but just to add prior so it can be easily avoided.

The first thing I did after completing the game during the credits was check Google which of course took me to Reddit. This,

was the first post I saw and I've been reading and mulling over it since.

From that post and other comments I did feel some relief that Clive is alive. And for me and thankfully others that Joshua and Dion are alive.

I don't think Clive wrote the book, I think it was Joshua. Even though Tomes gave Clive his quill he also said that Joshua was also quite the historian or something like that. Now I could be misremembering but even so I don't think it's Clive who wrote it.

And speaking on that, I don't like seeing the far off future. I always feel sad when magic is gone because it's so important for this type of fantasy style. I get that it's powerful but the world looses it's spark for me. Like recently I watched Encanto with my friends. Avoid this next part of text if you don't want Encanto spoilers.

Encanto Spoilers start:

Like at the end I was so happy they all kept their magic. I mostly always dislike it when stories lose their magic because that's what made them special. That's what symbolised their strengths in a fancy and literally magical way.

Encanto Spoilers end.

I know it's Squares route to always say yadda yadda humans are magical without magic but they spend their whole damn games with magic as a core standard. I know 16 is different to an extent but it feels like overkill and almost making it too Earth-like. Like I myself am not a stable person so I need these stories to boost me up, so coming back down this way doesn't feel complete or good for me. I think it would have been better if maybe dominants wouldn't be possible anymore or just that simply the blight would stop from the aether being sucked from the land and that everyone would have the chance to use magic. Like magic wasn't the problem it was the abuse of magic so getting rid of it feels too drastic and even too easy. Like Ultima made humanity here, so they are magical beings. The flaw if any is that not all humans can use magic so ideally breaking the original crystal would restore balance to the planet. I'm sure the curse would still be present in a way of overuse but that's what happens to anything with overuse. If you exercise too much you're at risk of damaging your body from pushing too hard etc and as it's balanced now the blight would stop spreading and eventually the land would recover especially with the new survival techniques born from The Hideaway.

I get symbolism is present in all Final Fantasy games, but when it comes at a cost of clear closure it's a problem. I was finally feeling relieved that this game had clear intentions. Such as yes the people have sex lol. Yes they swear. Yes they bleed. But suddenly at the end we aren't given that? 15 really did a number on me and not just because of the ending it was a lot of issues I had so I was tentative with this but as I trust the XIV team and as I was going through the story I was starting to believe in a clear triumphant victory. But no it's just vague to be... I dunno why. Like after all the uncertainty in the game having a clear happy ending would have been so so good and appreciated. I don't feel the catharsis I needed and I expected. Even with the hope and logical thoughts that Clive and co are alive I don't feel closure and it really hurts so bad. And yes I do get heavily invested but that's just my way for many personal reasons but even so I've seen a lot of others feel the same way so that is something at least.

At least they didn't kill Torgal. However I wish he had more of a stronger role. He was our soul mate. I understand how he couldn't get on Bahamut's back but I dunno maybe he could have howled and restored Clive's health during a part of the fight, like how our friends voices cheered us on. And their first meeting was lackluster. Especially after we see how tireless Torgal was collecting Clive's things. There are a lot of jarring disconnects at times which sucks considering a lot of things are said to connect characters and events. A few lines here or there would go a long way.

Continuing on that thought, I was really expecting and then hoping for past scenes and gameplay of the brothers childhood but they had to just jam the knife in at the end. Like it just hurts, really hurts and I hate that. I was also expecting and hoping for politics but that all ends at Phoenix Gate. Like the disappointment when we get to the city of Sanbreque and the brothel only to not explore it but then move fast on rails away from it and never to step once in its city properly. Like that grand palace hello!? I was expecting some sort of masquerade stuff infiltration and seeing our mother there only she doesn't know it's us. But nope they just go off to Twinside but then we can't even explore there and then it gets flown up into the sky like? We're only stuck in the hideaway that we can't edit which would have been really cool and when we're not we're stuck in very similar landscapes outside which are pretty but it really makes the world feel small. Especially that the blight has already limited our exploration having the cities we have being taken away from us really sucks. And Barnabas! I was hoping he'd invite us for a grand dinner and during it we'd get drugged and hallucinate because he's aiding Ultima to easily take possession and then it'd switch to Joshua and we'd play as him going with Jill and Gav to infiltrate the castle and rescue Clive. Going further into my fantasy lol, imagine after recovery which would maybe take some time with Joshua reminding Clive of who he is with flashback game scenes, and maybe even after Clive comes back they end up recruiting Barnabas but I know that's definitely a stretch haha! The point is I felt we weren't given the full tour of the world and I know all Final Fantasy games are lineal but this was very on rails only stopping for side quests and with me personally running around to listen to updated voice commentary on what NPC's had to say which was cool but also distracting and long but I didn't mind especially at the time because I was enjoying figuring out the world.

Too many side characters. I really did like the lore account and information for each NPC big or small but at some point some characters really should have been one instead of two. Example Gaute and the woman next to him (I've forgotten her name and cba to look) who gives us appreciation points, should have been one person. It would also give more chances to have a stronger character we could get to know more and bond with.

Along with that was the bond and war table really necessary? I appreciated it at the time and I do still appreciate the effort but this energy could have been used for making the ending not unnecessarily vague or having all the characters voice lined and not being randomly non voiced. Like I thought my game had a bug before I realised it was doing that style for those parts but it was really confusing and not expected!

On reflection I don't think Metaia disappeared or died, I think it went to tell the moon the wish to be granted and will be back again. But if not I think it definitely went to tell the moon which also symbolises a power higher than what Ultima wanted us to believe. I think it also shows when Clive senses and partially sees his dad at his grave showing bonds and life beyond death which is extremely comforting and valid.

It would be great to learn on Leviathan properly. I know it was destroyed but perhaps there still in a defendant. Some have said it could be the baby in Edda or even Gav who is unaware. I think it's probably a whole other character we might meet in DLC however it'll be something to see how to manage that post world without magic or they do an alternative timeline or even go back in the past though that would also be sad because we know they are 'lost'.

I feel they killed off big characters too quickly which made the passing off. I knew Cid would die from his constant coughing blood and also because he's 'old'. Most characters die if they're old in these games or they are full side NPC's that half their character is being the old person. Also because he's too powerful of a character and they need Clive to take the reigns but it would have been really cool if Cid was still alive and we helped him recover, it would have been cool to have quests for him. Benedikta too, I feel like we didn't get enough of her. She drove a lot of the story well and then was cut out. I feel like they were inspired clearly by GoT but as it went on went back to final fantasy style which had a clash of styles hence the vague ending which most likely would have not been so stark if the full game was that style.

Oh and Jill. Along again with the wish that characters had more character Jill is one. I like Jill she is just above the line of being a basic boring pretty love interest. With Ice unfeeling it would have been great to have Clive melt her icy heart and in doing so she would cool his fiery anger. And I feel Clive didn't get angry enough. Like her whole story part was once again on rails, I feel like we got more emotion and character from Dory's side story because we got to read and somewhat experience this horror. We never one on one talk to Jill about our experiences and she hers to us. And on that I really thought we'd start the game from Clive being imprisoned and branded. We really missed out on a lot of lore building that really would have elevated the driving force of characters.

The bar was stupid and a waste of time. This would have been a great moment to be able to de-stress with the cast and get to know them more. Ben Starr Clive's voice said Clive was funny at least to him so I was expecting more funny and light hearted scenes but it's note like moments and it's not super funny or even cheeky just aha yeah. I wish we got the chance to learn about Clive. The whole game is about revenge to getting the choice to live and throughout that Clive is only that. What does he like to eat or not eat like Joshua and his carrots, does he like music, what does he want to do in life aside from this grand dream. We never get full bonding and comfort moments with the brothers, only a small part that ends in the space of a brief punch.

Our mother's death was disappointing. I think because the reunion was so quick and sudden. I was thinking she had more play in the story and also her bloodline thing makes no sense it's our dads bloodline not hers unless there's some unspoken fucked up GoTs shit going on lol. I was hoping when getting the eikons she'd realise that not only was we strong but far stronger than anyone and try to manipulate us to get a piece of our glory only to fall from grace from rejection just like she had rejected us all these years. Death of a character doesn't always have to be actual death but social death would be amazing. The disgraced Ana groveling to her son's would have been so so damn delicious. But naaa she just cuts her throat. As I said I was expecting and now wished for more political gameplay. Even giving us choices of how to approach a crystal would have been cool planning it, giving Vivian's map a really cool play. And having our Uncle help us with politics.

Like with Torgal I wish we got more chances of love with him and Ambrosia. They stayed loyal all this time and Clive doesn't even get the option to pet her.

I wish we got more clothes and not just us but the cast. We go to the desert in our leather clothes. The only person who ages is us and that's getting slightly more hairy lol like Jill looks the same. I thought the side quest for fabric would get her a new dress but nope.

I'm getting a bit fatigued now but I'll try to finish my thoughts. I gave this a 7.5/10 because of the ending. -2 for Clive and Joshua and 1.5 for Dion because although I want him alive I can understand if he did in fact die though the hope of him seeing with his flower and reuniting with Terrence and maybe even adopting the girl would be really comforting.

I think the only way I could fully be at peace is if DLC not only gave closure and a true happy ending but more loose ends tied up and a look to a fresh bright world not some future book with random people. After all the world isn't as important without the people in it and even more the people we know make it what it is. That's even what Clive said to Ultima that his bonds made him stronger, that because of love for others than himself he was able to beat him.

It's a shame, I was seriously contemplating getting platinum but now I don't want to even look at the screenshots I took and I want to delete them which I might later.

But yeah I do hope for clarity. Clive and Joshua and Dion deserve it. They deserve the world they fought for.

As for now I'm trying to recover, even if it was the ending I wanted and expected finishing a game is always bittersweet. I've been crying and felt shit so writing this helped a little to get it at least off my chest.

🗒️Notes: As usual there might be spelling and grammar mistakes. I might add more thoughts later. These are my thoughts and opinions which rely heavily on my strong emotions. I get extremely attached to games and things for personal reasons so my thoughts might come as even more personal because I take it too heart which is just my way I try to get past that but it's hard so I don't want to force myself. Anyway I'm nodding off now as I took meds for a headache lol so yeah. At least I don't have to worry about spoilers which was stressing me not stop whilst playing which made me anxious to complete it.

Also I wanted to make this short but as always it's long but yeah. I wonder if anyone read all this lol either way I got it out so I don't have to keep talking back and forth to myself as hard as I was. But if you did and even more so agree that means a lot because I'm a fragile person and I know I'm weird or I just don't manage things well so when I see people agree or I see others have my similar thoughts it helps. Anyway sleep now, I've been yapping for 2-3 hours.

New additions

I do like Clive and Jill together and how they were mostly portrayed. Same as most of the relationships but I just wanted more. I know they are busy with the plan and also have to be to defeat Ultima in time but they even said at the end Ultima would wait lol so totally could have time before then or before Clive was ready. I feel it was done well for a FF game and in general Japanese RPG games but the bar isn't very high so can't really compare. Anyway more talking moments would have been top.

#my thoughts #long text post #long post #ffxvi spoilers #ffxvi #spoilers #encanto spoilers #Encanto

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sunlightocean · 2 years

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Cardcaptor Mirabel - Chapter 1

Author's Note : OFFICIALLY STARTING THE SERIES LETS GOOOOOO. This took a while so pls don't let this flop.

Previous Chapter : Here

Next Chapter : Here

Disclaimer : Sumisari town in not a real place in real life nor the anime/manga of Cardcaptor Sakura. I simply just made it up.

A few minutes after Mirabel set foot outside the Encanto, the gap within the barrier closed, no longer letting anything pass through.

Mirabel looked across the horizon, taking in the surrounding area.

"Whoa..."

"..."

"This is totally different."

Despite being only a few steps away from the Encanto, completely different flora and fauna had taken up the area, making an unfamiliar mirage of greenery. Instead of the usual palm trees and common orchids, now stood tall fir trees and bright hydrangeas all around.

'I've only ever seen these types of trees in books. Isabela only every made PreTty pInk fLoweRs, never normal trees and plants..'

The curly-haired teen firmly slapped her cheeks, stopping her thought process. 'Not now Mirabel! You ran away for a purpose, you are NOT backing down! You can do this! ...Hopefully'

Mirabel took in a deep breath, calming herself before carefully trecking down the mountain. Fortunately for her, the mountain was not as steep as the Encanto's hills, which made it much easier to climb down. However, unlike the mountain from the Encanto, this mountain seemed to have...a road of some sort?

It wasn't the normal road made of individual bricks, but instead oddly smooth, painted in a prominent black color with yellow lines disconnected from each other. Squinting her eyes, she noticed that the road had continuously swerved and winded down the mountain. Despite not being able to see all of the road, she could see that it ended somewhere near the bottom.

'If this road goes down the mountain, there might be a civilization at the bottom! Perfect!'

Securing her backpack, Mirabel walked down the black road with a new found determination to find a nearby town.

Surely it wouldn't be too long of a road, right?

Nearly 2 Hours Later

Perhaps Mirabel was wrong when she thought it would be a short walk. After nearly two hours of walking, Mirabel severely regretted trying to walk down an entire mountain without any proper plans.

'HOW LONG IS THIS ROAD?! MY FEET HURT LIKE HELL! I though the road was gonna be like, 30, maybe 45 minutes! Not an entire TWO HOURS.'

Shoving her face into her palms, she gave a world-weary sigh of tiredness. 'I'm starting to regret this, wait a minute, yeah never mind.'

The only thing stopping her from going home was going back up the mountain, and you couldn't even pay her to do that. No way in hell was she gonna walk up the tall mountain. Plus, she had a toxic family on the other side. So...

And out off nowhere, like God sending one of his angels to help her pathetic soul, a voice from behind her called out. "HEY KIDDO!" Her head whipped around, causing her curly mess of hair to move with it. "Huh?"

A weird... metal thing that vaguely looked like a bike was coming towards her, with a person on top that was wearing a... helmet?? The metal bike thing stopped right next to her, causing her to step back a bit. "Uhm, me?"

The man on the bike thing took of their helmet, letting her take a good look at his features. He had black hair that was tied into a small ponytail and green eyes, and he looked like he was somewhere in his mid-twenties in Mirabel's opinion. He was wearing basic jeans and a white shirt but with a navy blue vest on top, completing the look.

"Yes, you kiddo. You're the only one around here. Anyway, what are you doing around here? You're quite literally in the middle of the road. Shouldn't you be at home?"

Mirabel fiddled with the buttons of her shirt nervously. "Actually, I'm trying to get to the nearest town. I've been following the road for a long, LONG time." The man stared at her in some weirdly curious gaze. "Wait, wait, wait, where did you start walking?"

The brunette pointed the top of the mountain, the man following her gaze in morbid shock. He then he burst into a fit of sudden laughter, spooking Mirabel. "You walked down the entire mountain?! That takes like two hours!" Mirabel looked down, feeling embarrassed from his laughter.

He let out his last few chuckles, leaning on the handle of his bike thingy. "Why don't I give a ride to the town on my motorcycle, huh?"

'Motorcycles, so that's what they're called! Wait a minute, did he just say he'd take me to the next town-'

Mirabel perked up, feeling relief flood her senses. If she had to walk a few miles she would have considered smacking her face at a tree. "Really?!" The man smiled, tilting his head in a mischievous way. "Of course. I'm not gonna let a kid walk all the way to the next town. That's gonna take you like, another 2 hours. I got a feeling you don't wanna do that."

"Oh my gosh, thank you so much mister.." Mirabel trailed off. The man stuck out his hand, signaling a hand shake. "Akari. Akari Shikaru. Nice to meet ya. And your name is?" Mirabel kindly returned his gesture with a firm handshake of her own.

"Mirabel. Nice to meet you Mr. Akari!"

"Mirabel, huh? Doesn't sound like a familiar name to me. Eh, what ever, hop on kiddo."

The curly haired teen nodded, getting onto the 'motorcycle' carefully, adjusting her backpack and glasses to make sure it would fall off. Akari suddenly snapped his fingers, as if remembering something. "Wait a minute, I got something for ya." He bent down, opening a secret compartment on the side of the motor.

"Here ya go," giving Mirabel a spare helmet. "It's a bit big for ya, but safety first kid." She looked at the helmet carefully. It looked like a normal helmet she would where when she used a bike at the Encanto, but this one had more coverage for the head, and it had some sort of visor? Oh well, more protection for her.

While sliding the helmet on her head, Akari had already put on his own, balancing the motorcycle. She grabbed onto his shoulders, careful not to squeeze too much, but enough to keep her stable. "Are ya ready kiddo?" "Yep!" Behind his helmet, he smirked mischievously. "You might wanna hang on. It's gonna get really fast." Mirabel tilted her head confusion.

"What do you me- HOLY SHI-"

With absolutely no warning, Akari started up his motorcycle and drove away, scaring the life out of Mirabel, causing her to tighten her grip on Akari's shoulders. "Told ya!" He shouted over the wind. Too bad Mirabel couldn't hear him, 'cause she was too busy having a heart attack.

'LORD GOD, WHY IS THIS GOING SO FAST?? ISN'T THIS SUPPOSED TO BE A BIKE?? I MEAN SURE IT HAS METAL BUT STILL IT'S SHAPED LIKE A BIKE, WAIT A MINUTE IS HE EVEN PEDDLING?? HE'S NOT OH MY GOD-'

After a minute or two, she had gradually calmed down her hysteria from the sudden burst of speed. And now that she had, she could actually feel the strong winds blowing in their direction.

The billowing winds...

The way it weaved through her hair..

It felt...

Free.

A giggle found it's way out off her throat, soon turning into full blown laughter. Behind his helmet, Akari's grin grew a tad bit larger. "Hey kiddo, you having fun?" Mirabel nodded, "It feels so nice! I haven't felt this free in so long!"

Never in her life had Mirabel though she would be able to feel so free. Free from the villages judgmental stares. Free from her family's suffocating expectation. Free from, everything that held her down.

Perhaps... she really could restart her life. No longer held back. A smile marred the teens face. She's gonna start her life all over again. And she meant it.

Everything is going to be alright.

(Little did she know, that this singular line would be the highlight of her life. A sign of reassurance to all. Something that would help her rise from the darkest times. Her destiny was set in stone from the start after all. But she didn't know that. At least, not yet.)

45 Minutes Later

"Here we are kiddo." Akari smiled proudly at the large welcoming sign in front of them. "Welcome to my hometown! Oh boy is it good to be home." He and the curly haired teen had already gotten of the motorcycle and taken off their helmets, letting them stand on the pavement properly.

Mirabel stared at the large billboard with awe, a nervous excitement bubbling inside of her. "Tomoeda City... is that what this place is called?" Akari nodded, "I had to get out of town for a bit due to some family issue, but it was just a false alarm." He then looked off to the side and muttered something under his breath. "Damn grandma, thinking she got rabies when it was just a small cough."

Akari shook his head, "Anyways, this should be good enough. There's a nearby police station, you can ask them for assistance if you need." He pointed to the side with his finger, "Just take 4 lefts across the street, then a right, then straight, and then you'll see a tall blue building with a badge on top. Should be easy to spot, 'kay?"

Mirabel nodded. "Yep, got it. Thank you so much for bring me here, I really appreciate it. Wait a minute, I gotta repay you! Gimme a sec..." The teen hurriedly took off her backpack before rummaging inside of it, looking for something of value. The raven haired man shook his head good-naturedly while smiling.

"Nah, no need. I'm just doin' what I can to help!"

"No way! I already made you travel like 45 minutes, I can't just let you go without repaying!"

"I don't have any money on me, but.." Mirabel pulled out a bag of arepas, handing it to Akari. "Here! They're arepas con queso, they're super tasty." Akari raised a brow while taking the bag from her hands. "Arepas? Never heard of them, but I'm sure it's gonna be tasty." Placing the bag in the extra compartment, he looked at the curly-haired teen in front of him with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Gently placing his hand on her head, he ruffled the curly strands of hair on top of Mirabel's head. "I gotta get back to my house, my girlfriend's gonna chew my head off if I come back late. Hah, gotta love her for that though."

Akari flashed her one last smile before removing his hand. "You're a good kiddo I can tell. Any chance ya see me in town, feel free to say hi. M'kay?"

Mirabel stopped moving for a second, only to bounce back with the biggest smile she could muster. "You got it, and please do the same to me as well Mr. Akari!"

And with that, the raven haired man hopped on his motorcycle, waved at Mirabel one last time, before setting of onto the road. The teen watched as he disappeared around the corner, fully leaving her sight.

"Alrighty then," saying to nobody in particular. "where do I go now."

Mirabel stared at the road in front of her, taking in the different sights. One thing she noticed was that the buildings across the streets we're significantly taller than the one's she's seen. Yes, the Casita was undeniably the grandest building in the entirety of the Encanto, but it looked as if a normal building was large than a house in the Encanto.

'Mr. Akari said to go the... police station? What in the world is a police? Is that some type of food or something? Whatever, I might as well check it out.'

Looking at the watch on her wrist, the watch read 5:49 AM, just an hour before the usual time the Madrigals woke up. From there, she walked down what seemed to be a sort of walkway (sidewalk), recalling Akari's instructions.

'So, make four lefts... then a right, then go straight, and then I'll see a large blue building with a badge. Seems easy enough.'

As the teen continued to walk, she observed her surrounding with both confusion and curiosity. Some people looked at her weirdly while she was walking, whispering about how she didn't look familiar, but it's not something she minded. She was already used to being stared down anyways.

'I mean, I'm just walking down a path,' Mirabel though, 'what's the worst that can happen?'

A Few Minutes Later

Apparently, things CAN go wrong while walking down the road. Somehow, despite being a single turn away, Mirabel was blocked by what looked to be a road repair. Although she didn't get very close to the scene, the teen quickly learned that a problem with the... plumbing system? had to be fixed.

Seriously, what is with these knew inventions? Was the Encanto really that old to the point the outside world had developed this far? Or did Abuela not want to integrate these modern things in the Encanto? She could imagine how hard it would be to copy these things, since their materials we're somewhat limited.

The teen ultimately decided to ignore the problem, since it didn't concern her. Unfortunately, since she wouldn't be able to take a right on the path like Akari said to, she had to take a detour and continue straight.

Did she know where she was going? Absolutely not. Could she have just asked somebody for directions? Probably, but she was too tired from all the stuff from earlier, so frankly she was not really in the mood to talk to anyone.

So her choice? To walk around aimlessly with no sense of direction whatsoever. Not the smartest idea, but hey, a bit of sight seeing never hurts anyone. As she walked around the place, she found out that she was in somewhere called Sumisari Town, a somewhat popular party of Tomoeda City.

Somehow, she managed to stumble into what seemed to be a market place, which was bustling with people. Colorful stands cover the entirety of the streets, each stand selling unique items. From food to clothes, Mirabel was sure you could find everything you would need here if you looked hard enough.

In all honestly, she found it quite nice. Hearing the adult's friendly chatter, the children laughing and playing, the stand owners offering their products, she couldn't help but reminisce of her own town. And some of the stands sold things Mirabel had never even heard of! Computers, Vacuums, fridges, it was all so fascinating.

(At least there were no judgement stares aimed at her for not wielding what her family has had for generations)

Despite getting lost at least 4 times, the experience was something unforgettable. By any chance she was able to settle down here in this town, she would definitely come here again. She made a mental note to learn about the city's currency before doing her best to exit the market place. And it seemed that luck was her at that moment, as she was somehow able to navigate herself out of the area with little to no casualties.

After what seemed to be forever, Mirabel managed to find a somewhat clear area to walk around. From the looks of it, the area seemed to be a peaceful neighborhood. The house were lined neatly across the street, along with a fair amount of greenery littered here and there. Overall, the entire place gave of a nice homey vibe.

The curly haired teen looked around the place, unsure of where to go next. 'So I found a nice neighborhood, what do I do now? I can't just knock on a door and go "HEY I RAN AWAY FROM HOME CAN I STAY WITH YOU??"

Suddenly, a wave of exhaustion suddenly hits Mirabel, making her stagger in her steps. All the walking somehow only just kicked in, now hitting her in full force. "Oh boy, maybe I should find somewhere to rest, before I pass out. Yeah, that sounds nice."

'I'll just sleep under a tree or something.'

So, with a small limp in her step, the girl was able to find a small clearing within the tree with a good amount of sunlight and enough shade to keep her cool. It was also a bit far away from the neighborhood, providing her with a quiet atmosphere. Plopping down on the grass, Mirabel let out a sigh of relief, finally allowing her feet a break from walking.

"God, I'm so tired..." she muttered under her breath. Taking off her glasses, she slid them into a spare pocket on her backpack before using it as a makeshift pillow for her head.

Wow, she... actually ran away. Now that she had been given a chance to relax, the fact could now fully sink in. By some god forsaken miracle (ironic ain't it), she had managed to sneak away from the village, bypass the Encanto's barriers, and trek down the mountain, all in the past 12 hours.

And most of all... she won't be seeing her family. For a while at least.

Mirabel tighten her fist, curling it tight around the the fabric of her bag.

This was probably the hardest pill to swallow. Yes, she ran away with some thought, but at the same time, she sorta did it on an impulse. However, this wasn't something she could simply undo. This was going to be a life changing choice. But...

She made this choice on her own terms. She wanted to start a new life without any setbacks of her family. Admittedly, yes, her family gave her a roof to shelter her head and the necessities she needed to live. But at the same time they constantly belittled her, looking down on her for not having a gift.

She wanted none of that. She didn't want that, at all. Maybe she was being a bit selfish, but in her opinion, she did nothing to warrant how she was treated. This is why she ran away. And if she doesn't make the best of her decision, then may the gods strike her down with lightning as many times as they'd like before dragging her back to the Encanto by the collar.

Mirabel's eyelids felt heavy, making slowly blinking from her tiredness. She felt really sleepy all of a sudden. Well, this wasn't entirely unseen. She did walk down a mountain for 2 hours.

'I can sleep for like, an hour or two, right? Yeah, that sounds nice...'

Shutting her eyes, the teen slowly drifted off into dream land, finally succumbing to the grasp of sleep. Letting out quiet breaths, she slumbered peacefully with few disturbances.

Unbeknownst to her, the necklace gifted to her by the Casita started to give of a faint glow, giving off a warm golden light. To normal people, perhaps they would have though it was a reflection from the sun. But to those wielding magic, they would know that it was no ordinary glow.

However, it was very rare to find someone who used magic in the open. It would be almost impossible to find someone in such a small town!

Keyword, almost.

Touya really didn't know what he was expecting when he came home from work. Sure, it's not too uncommon to sense something that wasn't normal. Maybe a stray spirit or a wandering ghost, maybe a full blown fairie if he wanted to push it.

What he wasn't expecting was an energy signature as large as a house right in his backyard.

"I'm home!"

Opening the door to his house, he noticed that his dad's shoes were not there. He didn't have any extra work today, so he should have been here. Walking further into the house, something on the whiteboard on the wall caught his eye.

Emergency call at the University, won't be back until tomorrow morning. Please go ahead and cook dinner. :)

Well that would explain it. Tossing his bag onto the couch, he walked towards the back door of his house, narrowing his eyes. Maybe he should take this chance to check out that weird energy signature. Stepping out into the backyard, Touya scanned the surrounding area for anything out of place.

Walking further into the backyard, the magic presence slowly got more powerful, and yet it wasn't suffocating or anything of that sort. In fact, it was more welcoming then anything.

'I don't sense anything malicious for one, and it's almost as if it's dormant, or sleeping. Huh, weird.'

Just as he was about to walk in the other direction, a glob of green caught the corner of his eyes. Yep, that was definitely the source of the presence. Slowly taking a step forward, the brunette pursed his lips. One step more, and then another. Rounding the corner, he finally laid eyes on the mysterious source of power.

He was probably expecting too much, because instead of some creature or even a spirit of some sort, he ended up finding a young girl with curly hair, probably 14 or 15 years old, sleeping on some worn out backpack. But what caught his eye the most was the gold necklace on her neck, that was giving of an all encompassing glow.

...

"What."

#F*CKING FINALLY #cardcaptor mirabel #cardcaptor sakura #encanto #encanto au #sunlightocean

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foggyfanfic · 3 months

Text

The Wedding Gift

Oneshot Preview: Juan's ears turned red and he frowned again, “I’m not complimenting you, this is just fact. If I measured your facial features the math would back me up.”

“I mean, it’s ok if you are complimenting me,” Mirabel said.

“Well, I’m not. Your face is mathematically sound. That’s all there is to it.”

Summary: As Mirabel gets to know one of the men from the village, she tries to figure out if he likes her for her, or because she's a Madrigal.

Words: 15.7K

“Oh! Mirabel! Perdon señor, uno minuto,” somebody called, Mirabel turned to find the voice and was surprised when the guy manning the bean stall waved her down, “Señorita Mirabel, do you have a bit of time?”

“Sure, yeah, what uh, what’s up?” Mirabel said, hoping to hide the fact that she did not remember this guy’s name at all. He was maybe a year or two older (or younger) than her, she vaguely remembered seeing him on the playground back when they were children. She was pretty sure. They may have even exchanged polite words at a party once. Possibly.

“It’s Juan,” he said, a little dryly.

“Right. I know. Of course I know. Juan, what can I do for you?” Even as she spoke her eyes ticked over his face for some distinguishing feature she could attach the name to. But there were none, his nose was flat, but not especially so, his hair was black with very normal brown undertones, his skin wasn’t especially light or dark, his head neither very round nor very angular nor very square. Ultimately, his face could best be described as a face. No additional adjectives necessary.

Juan very clearly did not believe she knew his name, but instead of being annoyed he gave her a rueful smile and said, “It’s fine. Pretty sure my parents couldn’t have chosen a more generic name if they’d actually just named me ‘generic’.”

Mirabel chuckled, a little sheepishly, “I probably would remember that better.”

“Maybe I should change my name to that, is that the sort of thing we’ll be able to do at this new-fangled city hall?”

“Yeah, actually, it is,” she said, “although it might be a while before we set up a procedure for that sort of thing.”

In the past nine years since the miracle was reborn, Mirabel had slowly come to the realization that one of Abuela’s problems was the fact she was doing the job of at least three people. Emphasis on the “at least”. Abuela had acted as the de facto mayor of the Encanto since its inception, which probably wasn’t that bad back when Encanto was a handful of refugees. Now though, now their village was edging ever closer to being a small town, and having a one woman town government was not an option. It took a bit of research, and a lot of talking to people, but Encanto’s City Hall was under construction, and Mirabel was currently running around trying to recruit people to run for the city council.

“Well, when you do I may just be the first in line,” he leaned on the little bit of counter that wasn’t covered in baskets of beans, “but believe it or not, I didn’t interrupt your day to talk about how forgettable my name is.”

“Of course, yeah, what do you need?” She stood up a little straighter, she was doing her best to take as much work off Abuela’s plate as possible so Abuela could focus on prepping the newly elected mayor. They wanted the transition to be as smooth as possible.

“I wanted to hire you for a commission.”

Mirabel actually jolted a little out of surprise, “You- what?”

“A commission, an embroidery commission,” he said, clarifying when she just stared at him, “my sister’s getting married soon and she’s really into fashion so I figured for a gift-, well, one of your pieces might be the obvious choice, but they don’t call me generic for nothing.”

“Oh.”

“Do you-? I completely understand if you’re too busy. You can say no.”

“No, no, it’s not that, I’d be happy to uh to make your sister’s gift,” Mirabel said, quickly. She decided not to tell him she was just surprised to have her embroidery acknowledged. It wasn’t like she lived in her familia’s shadow anymore, but people were a lot more impressed by her communication and leadership skills than her skills with a needle and thread.

It felt surprisingly good to have a spot light shined on this particular talent.

“Oh good,” he smiled, “no offense to the town tailors, but everything they make is meant for function, I really want to give her something that’s actual art.”

Mirabel felt her face heat up, and it was all she could do to keep her smile pointed up at him instead of smiling down at her shoes, “I-, that’s-, thank you. That’s very nice of you to say. What uh, what did you have in mind?”

“I don’t know, something in her favorite colors I guess?” he shrugged, “I have no idea how you artist folk come up with ideas, so I kinda have to trust your judgement on this one. What’s a good design that says ‘Yay, you’re in love’?”

Artist. He called Mirabel an artist.

“Um, a heart, maybe? Or I can ask Isabela to lend me her flower dictionary, I could probably embroider a bouquet that means true love and good blessings and stuff. What were you thinking of putting the embroidery on?”

“One of our Má’s old blouses, my sister loves that thing and Má has been planning to fix it up and give it to her for ages. Figure this is as good a chance as any.”

“I’d have to see it to get an idea what designs would look good on it.”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense. You free for dinner? Around six? She’ll be eating with her in-laws tonight, so we wouldn’t even have to be sneaky.”

Mirabel thought about her schedule a little, slowly starting to nod, “Sí, I can do dinner.”

“Great, let me write down my address for you,” he turned away, quickly scribbling on a piece of paper then handing it to her.

She laughed when she looked at the piece of paper and all it said was, “It’s the house right behind me.”

“Cute,” she told him.

“I can write down directions if you need me to,” he shrugged.

“Hm, gee, I think I might be able to find it myself.”

“You sure.”

“Pretty sure, yeah.”

“Well that’s good, because I can’t think up a good follow up joke,” he grinned a little sheepishly.

“This one is good enough to stand on its own,” she said, neatly folding up the paper and putting it in her pocket.

“Gracias, I’m here all week,” he replied, leaning on the counter again, “except for tonight, when I’m at dinner. See you at six?”

“Yeah, see you then,” she chirped, before practically skipping away.

An artist!

—

A little less than a week later, Mirabel flipped through her sketchbook, lips pursed as she considered the designs she’d come up with for Juan’s sister. She couldn’t decide which ones she liked best.

Sighing, Mirabel looked up at the clock. If she walked fast she might be able to catch Juan before he went home for the day. The bean stall wasn’t one of the market stalls that rotated vendors. Like a lot of the other staples, it was in the market five days a week, which meant Juan was in the market five days a week.

Dinner with him and his parents had been alright, but Mirabel had been surprised by how quiet Juan had gotten once his parents were at the table. It wasn’t an upset sort of quiet, more like every time she started to talk to him, he would redirect the conversation so his parents could take over. He seemed pretty friendly in the market, but when he was home he suddenly became-, well he was still friendly, he just didn’t talk much.

With her sketchbook in hand, Mirabel walked through town, being sure to wear her “busy face” to make it less likely somebody would try to stop her for a favor. She reached Juan just as he was carrying the last basket of beans into the storage shed between the stall and his house.

“Juan, hey,” she called out, trotting the last few steps to his side, “you got a second?”

“Technically, I have forty-three thousand seconds, but I have to fit dinner, sleeping, and breakfast in there,” he said, then grunted as he placed the basket of beans on a sturdy looking shelf. Mirabel quickly glanced away from his arms as his biceps flexed.

“Oh,” Mirabel wasn’t sure how to respond to that, “well uh, you mind sharing a few of those forty-three thousand seconds with me?”

“Do you want any specific seconds, or would just any do?”

“I was hoping for the next few uh hundred? Thousand?”

He cocked his head, eyes narrowed but unfocused, “That would be about sixteen minutes.”

“That should be enough, I think? I just want you to look at my ideas for your sister’s blouse.”

“That I can do.”

“Right, great,” Mirabel got her head back in the game, “here, I know you said you were going to trust my judgement, but I want your input on the design. I just can’t pick my favorite.”

Juan quietly took the proffered sketch book and flipped through her ideas. He carefully considered each one of them. When he was done, he went back to the first one and started again.

“Something wrong?” Mirabel asked.

“No,” Juan said, not looking up.

She waited for him to finish looking, then when he seemed ready to take a third pass, prompted, “What do you think?”

“I think I see why you can’t pick your favorite,” he said, continuing to stare at option one, “these all look really good.”

Mirabel blushed, even as she rolled her eyes, “Thank you, but that doesn’t help me make a decision.”

“No. I suppose it doesn’t.”

He idly turned the page and stared at option two for as long as he’d stared at option one. Mirabel waited for him to say something else, something helpful. He turned to option three and stared at it as well.

Mirabel cleared her throat, he looked up at her, still silent.

It took her a second to figure out how to politely rephrase the question in her head, “Which would you choose?”

“All of them,” he said, then turned back to her sketchbook.

“Putting all of them would make the shirt look gaudy.”

“Oh. Would it?”

“Sí.”

“Only some of them, then.”

“You are zero help.”

He snorted, then nodded, “You are correct.”

Mirabel shook her head as a chuckle bubbled past her lips, “How about I go calculate how much each one would cost to make, then come back and we try this again?”

“Oh, that’s a good idea,” he perked up, and finally handed her the sketchbook back, “I’ll come with you. Where do you get your thread?”

“Uh, Lucia’s,” she said, jabbing her thumb in the direction of her preferred fabric store, “but you don’t have to do that, I’ll honestly probably be there for hours. We’ll blow right past the thousand second mark.”

“Does it take that long to find the right thread?” He looked simultaneously startled and impressed.

“Meh, it’s more that I’m friends with Lucia. And her back room is where the sewing club meets.”

“Ah, so you’ll be chatting,” he nodded, “will I also be required to chat?”

“A tiny bit, I mean, when I drag my Tío Bruno along everybody is fine with him just standing sorta awkwardly next to me. Unless Jo brought Adelaide, then they talk about something called NASA.”

“That’s what I’ll do then.” He started walking in the direction she’d pointed, and Mirabel trotted after him so she could take the lead.

“Stand awkwardly next to me? Or talk about NASA?”

“The first one.”

Mirabel huffed out a surprised laugh, “Do you hate talking that much?”

“No, I just do it all day,” he shrugged, “I handle numbers quick, so it just makes sense to have me run the stall, but I’m not-. I would prefer if it was just me and the numbers, and maybe a few people like you.”

“Like me?”

“Yeah, you know, people who are-,” he cut off and made a vague hand gesture, he actually reminded her a little of her Tío Bruno when he did that, “people who aren’t draining to talk to. People that make you feel more energetic, not less.”

“Oh,” Mirabel glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, “uh, thank you?”

A frown flittered across his face, then he said, “I didn’t mean that as-. You're welcome, but I’m not trying to be nice. It’s just the way it is.”

“Uh, pretty sure it’s pretty subjective actually,” Mirabel said, “in my experience feelings always are.”

“It’s not a feeling, it’s probably science.”

“Science?”

“Sí, I bet all your smiling does something to people’s brains. Like caffeine,” he nodded along with himself, “Or maybe your voice is just the right frequency to help people wake up, like sunlight.”

“You think… my voice sounds like sunlight?” she asked slowly, trying not to laugh.

“Well, obviously not literally, but I think your voice makes people feel more awake, like sunlight does.”

“Right, and uh, do I smell like laughter?”

“Now you’re just being preposterous.”

Mirabel couldn’t help but giggle, “I don’t think it’s science, I think you just enjoy my company.”

He huffed, “Everybody enjoys your company, and there’s probably a scientific reason for that too.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, really,” he stopped walking so he could narrow his eyes at her, “maybe you give off pheromones.”

Mirabel couldn’t help but laugh outright at that, “I do not!”

“You might,” he insisted, then pursed his lips, “or it could be psychology. People like things that are pleasant to look at. You are pleasant to look at and covered in art. Ergo, people like being around you.”

“Pleasant to-. Are you saying I’m pretty?” She didn’t know whether to be flattered or laugh some more.

“If that’s what you want to call it, but it’s hardly scientific, now is it? You are well proportioned and symmetrical,” he sniffed, continuing on his way. Mirabel followed him, trying not to be too amused at his expense.

“Well, thank you,” she eventually said.

His ears turned red and he frowned again, “I’m not complimenting you, this is just fact. If I measured your facial features the math would back me up.”

“I mean, it’s ok if you are complimenting me,” she said.

“Well, I’m not. Your face is mathematically sound. That’s all there is to it.”

Mirabel blushed, despite how much she still wanted to laugh. Who talked like this?! It seemed Juan genuinely believed what he was saying, but it was also possible he was choosing to put the moves on her in the weirdest way possible. He wouldn’t be the first guy to make a pass at her. Hell, she’d even gone on a few first dates that went nowhere.

If this was his way of making a move, he got points for originality.

“Well, I’m going to choose to be flattered and say thank you,” she declared.

“I’m just being logical,” he grumbled, and she swallowed another laugh.

By the time they got to the fabric store he was done pouting, and instead seemed prepared to stop and read every price displayed in the shop, whether it was connected to their project or not. Mirabel left him to it, she wanted to ask Lucia about how her recent trip to the city went, anyway.

The conversation took at least half an hour, and when she turned to look for Juan, he was standing in the corner, examining the thimbles.

“Are you bored?” she checked with him.

“Not at all,” he said, “take your time.”

“Are you sure, I don’t have to chat with-.”

“No, Mirabel, please, I mean it. Take your time, have fun, don’t ignore your friends on my account,” he said, putting the thimble down and giving her an earnest look.

“Ok, then I’m going to slip into that back room there and see if anyone from my sewing club is in today,” she pointed the door out to him, “come find me if you need me.”

Mirabel peaked her head in through the door and was pleased to find three of her friends in the room. Katrina, or Kat, sat at the table, cutting out a pattern for a new dress. Meanwhile, Josephine, or Jo, and Jo’s best friend Adelaide sat on the couch, Adelaide holding half of Jo’s latest project in her lap so it wouldn’t drape on the ground. Mirabel greeted them all enthusiastically and asked how they were doing. After twenty minutes, Juan slipped up next to her and quietly took the sketch book.

“Hey Adelaide,” he said.

“Hey,” she said back, voice quiet enough to be a whisper.

“Hola Señoritas Josephine and Katrina,” Juan nodded at each of them in turn.

“What? I don’t get a casual ‘hello’?” Jo asked, with a friendly grin, “Is this because I ditched astronomy club?”

“Sí,” Juan said, while Adelaide nodded.

“Astronomy club?” Mirabel asked.

“Not a real club,” Jo explained, “but Adelaide loves astronomy, and Juan loves math, so they-. What’d you guys do again?”

“Adelaide takes measurements of the bodies in the night sky, and I use those measurements to calculate the answers to questions she had about them,” Juan said.

“Yeah, the only part I have in it was making Addy a quilt based off some of their science stuff that one time,” Jo shrugged, “actually, you guys helped with that, remember?”

A quilt based off “science stuff”. As far as descriptions went, it was severely lacking. Josephine came up with brilliant projects for their club to do together, but there was a reason she always drew them out on a sheet of paper.

Before Mirabel could ask for more information, Juan told her, “You embroidered pictures of all the constellations. With gold and silver thread.”

Adelaide snorted, just a quiet huff of air through her nose, for some reason she was giving Juan a look that was almost, almost, hinting at being amused.

“Oh! That quilt! Sí, I remember,” Mirabel nodded happily, “that one was really fun. I didn’t realize you were involved.”

It had been fun, Jo had brought the idea to their sewing/fiber arts club, a quilt that was an accurate depiction of the night sky on Adelaide’s birthday. While Jo did most of the work, she had gotten Mirabel to help with the embroidery, Kat and Suzane had helped with some of the more tedious stitching, and Lucia had made some beautiful button stars. They had spent three months working on it together then invited Adelaide to a meeting so they could present it to her over cake. Adelaide was the quiet sort, never one for big expressions, but she had cried and even hugged each of them. The whole thing was a very fond memory for Mirabel.

“He did all the calculations by hand,” Adelaide said, “isn’t that impressive Mirabel?”

Juan gave Adelaide a look, his ears bright red, while Adelaide focused on Mirabel, making very steady eye contact for a woman that... well. Let’s just say Adelaide got along really well with Tío Bruno.

Mirabel watched Juan very closely while she said, “Yeah, that actually is pretty impressive. I can’t even imagine how complicated that math would be.”

Juan tensed up, looking anywhere but at Mirabel, “It’s not-. Numbers aren’t that complicated, it’s just most people have better things to do than sit around and play with them.”

“Mirabel complimented you Juan,” Adelaide said, and she was definitely smirking just a little.

Juan shot her a glare, then said in an almost normal voice, “Thank you Mirabel. You are too kind.”

“Oh, I don’t know if I’d call it a compliment,” Mirabel said slowly, “you’re smart. It’s just the way it is. In fact, it’s probably science.”

Juan looked at her, a little startled, “It’s-. That’s not how science works.”

“No, no, I think it is,” she pretended to think for a moment, “maybe it’s pheromones.”

Adelaide actually giggled, Juan shot her another glare.

“I see how it is, well fine, if the two of you are just going to gang up on me, I’m going go play with my true friends,” he began walking away, the sketchbook hugged to his chest, “numbers.”

Mirabel watched him go, then as soon as he was out the door, turned back to Adelaide, “So am I reading this right?”

“How long has Juan had a crush on Mirabel?” Jo asked at the same time, grinning from ear to ear.

“Are you going to go for it?” Kat asked Mirabel, then shrugged, “He’s kinda cute, in a plain way.”

“I don’t know,” Adelaide said, seemingly answering Josephine’s question, “his sister told me about it a few days ago.”

“I-,” Mirabel hesitated to tell Kat she wasn’t sure in front of Adelaide, it seemed like Adelaide and Juan were close, “I want to get to know him better. And, you know, actually hear from his own lips that he’s interested in me.”

Mirabel had discovered the hard way that her life did not have room for any games. She needed somebody blunt, who could tell her what they wanted without making her guess. The closest thing she’d had to a relationship had fizzled out because the guy kept trying to play it cool while Mirabel was just trying to juggle her many interests and commitments.

“That’s smart,” Adelaide said, back to her usual almost whisper.

“You think so?” Mirabel asked, she’d sort of expected Adelaide to press the issue on her friend’s behalf.

Adelaide nodded, face giving away nothing.

“If you don’t go for it, I might,” Kat said with a shrug, “he seems stable.”

“Does he, though?” Josephine asked, “He gets flustered easily.”

“Flustered easily is way better than angered easily,” Kat shrugged again, “trust me.”

Mirabel placed a quiet hand on Kat’s shoulder. She had recently broken off her engagement to her school yard sweetheart, who had quit being so sweet once he discovered a love of tequila.

The conversation moved on to other things, eventually Mirabel separated herself to see if she could find her sketchbook and the man who took it. When she did, she waited a while to announce her presence, instead she watched him scowl at two nearly identical colors of thread for a few seconds. He did seem stable, safe.

Mirabel hadn’t spent much time thinking about romance, not until she reached her twentieth birthday and suddenly every Má, Tía, and Abuela in town were throwing their single sons, nephews, and grandsons at her. Even now, she wasn’t sure if it was romance she was thinking of, or just marriage. Romance was what Dolores and Mariano had, marriage was what Isabela and Mariano almost had. It was an important distinction.

She wanted both, well, technically she wanted kids and she wanted romance, so marriage seemed like the right way to go.

The problem was, Mirabel wanted somebody that let her be herself. That didn’t seem like it’d be hard to find, Juan was half right, everybody loved being around Mirabel. But that was because Mirabel was a leader in the community these days. All those first dates that went nowhere, went nowhere because it was clear that the guy was on a date with Señorita Madrigal, not Mirabel. She was proud of what she had done for their town, proud of the ways she’d stepped up and grown in the past nine years, but she still wanted space to be imperfect.

Would Juan get that? Did he understand Mirabel was human, not just a Madrigal?

Only one way to find out, she decided, clearing her throat as she approached him.

“First you and Adelaide ganged up on me, now I’m being defeated by the color red,” he said in greeting, “it would seem I am very bad at going to craft stores.”

Mirabel laughed a little, “Why is the red defeating you?”

“Which one of these goes better with the little blue flowers you’ve drawn here,” he held the two spools of thread up to her sketchbook so she could compare.

“Uh, well,” she tried to say it as gently as possible, “neither of them. That’s not embroidery floss.”

“Embroidery-? Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Mirabel. I am absolutely abysmal at going to craft stores.”

“Ah, you’re not that bad,” she took the chance to awkwardly pat him on the shoulder, “I don’t think it’s something a person can be good or bad at, really.”

”And yet, here I am.”

Mirabel looked down at the two threads, “Here, put these down, and I’ll show you where the embroidery section is.”

“This is why I’m trusting your expertise,” Juan sighed, following her.

“Did you look at the other supplies? Pretty sure I have everything but the right sized hoop.”

“Well, thread was supposed to be the last thing, but clearly I can not be trusted,” he shook his head, “my numbers are probably all wrong.”

“Oh, I’m sure you did fine,” she said. But she was wrong, Juan did not do fine, she couldn't fathom why he thought she would need so many needles, even after he repeatedly insisted it was better safe than sorry. Furthermore, he could not be trusted to color coordinate his socks with his shoelaces, much less an entire embroidery project. By the time she’d collected all the thread she would need, she had a pretty good idea why he always wore beige.

He had enough money to buy the thread and hoop right then and there, so he did, plus a couple of embroidery needles.

“In case yours break or get dull,” he’d said, when she once again tried to talk him out of buying her more needles.

“I mean, I have a lot of extras,” Mirabel had argued, feeling a bit bad that he was paying for everything. Even if this was, technically, a commission.

“Well, now you’ll have two more.”

He walked her back to Casita, and she tried to pull more information about himself out of him, but he only seemed interested in talking about her.

When she asked about his day, he deflected. “Oh, I just sold beans all day, nothing interesting. What’d you do today?”

When she tried to connect with him by letting him vent, he downplayed. “Bah, sure, sometimes customers can be a bit testy, but I’m sure I’ve never dealt with any problems like building a town government from scratch. How’s that going?”

And when she desperately tried to learn more about his interests, he dodged. “Meh, I don’t really have any hobbies, what about you? I know you also make the occasional stuffed animal, and play the accordion. Anything else?”

When they parted ways at the front door Mirabel once again found herself watching him go, thinking about the differences between romance and marriage. She was moderately sure they both required knowing a bit about your significant other.

Shaking her head, she decided it might not be meant to be. Juan was handsome and nice, but if he wouldn't let her get to know him, they could never have a real relationship.

Pity. He had some nice arms.

—

“Hey Mirabel, the bean guy’s here to see you,” Antonio called, poking his head through her door.

“Oh, Juan? Uh, send him up,” Mirabel said, over her shoulder. She was sitting on her floor, trying to come up with a rough budget to get the town’s new government started. Spread out around her was every bit of information she could find on Encanto’s financials. It was, to put it mildly, a lot.

“You sent for me?” Juan said, knocking politely on her door while he walked through it.

“Yeah, uh, you’re good at math, right?”

“Sí?”

“Great, I need a budget,” she held up a list of all the infrastructure repairs planned for the next year with one hand, and the estimated tax revenue with the other, “I’d ask my Pá but he’s busy helping the merchants work out a-. I guess that doesn’t really matter. He’s busy, and I can’t figure this stuff out.”

Juan joined her on the floor without a word and began looking over the various paperwork. After he had been reading for a while, it became obvious that whenever he finished reading something, he sorted it into one of two piles. She sat patiently, a part of her worried that if she spoke or moved, she’d scare away her numbers guy and be stuck with the evil budget. Instead of moving, she just watched him.

Eventually, she started to notice little details that escaped her the last few times they'd spoken, like the mole on the shell of his right ear that almost made the ear look pointed. His eyelids were naturally very hooded. He had very little stubble on his jaw line, but a fair amount on his chin and extending down from his sideburns, which were currently trimmed to a perfectly average length.

“Have you ever thought about growing your sideburns out?” Mirabel suddenly asked, surprising herself.

He paused, a list of improvements the village wanted to make to the church hovering over the farther pile, “My side burns?”

“Sí,” she plowed on, ignoring the burning in her cheeks, “it looks like you could.”

She reached out and traced her fingers down the stubble to indicate what she meant. He turned to look at her and Mirabel slowly drew her hand back. For a few seconds neither of them said anything, then he chuckled.

“Uh no, I’ve never thought about it, I’ve always trimmed them,” he shrugged, “I’d probably look real goofy with giant sideburns and no beard.”

“Well-. Ok, you would,” Mirabel leaned back on her hands, “but I always thought if I could grow facial hair I’d have fun with it. Like Camilo can’t grow a full goatee, but he could technically grow a goatee in the shape of a question mark, but he refuses cause he thinks it’ll look weird.”

“Hm, tell you what, you spend a day with clown makeup on, and I’ll grow out my sideburns,” he said.

“I’ve already done that,” Mirabel pointed out with a grin, “my Pá and I pretended to be clowns for my nephew’s birthday last year.”

“Oh. Well. Guess I’ll have to grow out my sideburns then.”

“Really?”

“I said that I would.”

“Even though you’ll look goofy?”

“Meh, what’s my pride worth,” he shrugged, “hopefully not as much as my word.”

“Oh, very profound,” Mirabel chuckled, “I might embroider that on a pillow.”

“If you do I demand you give me the pillow, that is probably the wisest sounding thing I’ll ever say,” he said, “I need to remember it and share it with my grandchildren.”

Mirabel nudged his shoulder with hers, “I’ll put it on a handkerchief for you. That way you can have it in your pocket wherever you go.”

“Genius,” he breathed, “absolutely genius.”

He turned back to sorting the paperwork, after a moment more of watching him, Mirabel stood and walked over to her sewing desk. She got out a leftover scrap of soft, blue fabric, scissors, some needle and thread, an embroidery hoop, and an embroidery needle. She opened her drawer of embroidery floss and debated the colors she had to spare, after a moment, she grabbed a deep teal that she’d used to shade the water on a beach themed project a while back. Mirabel sat back down next to him, and got to work making a handkerchief.

They sat on the floor, working in silence, for what must have been an hour before he requested some paper and a pencil.

“Do you want an abacus?” she asked, rummaging through her desk for a good pencil that still had an eraser.

“Don’t need one,” he said, carrying not just his sorted piles, but her crafting supplies over to one of her sewing tables, “although I do enjoy playing with the little beads.”

Mirabel chuckled, but admitted, “Yeah, me too.”

She placed the paper and two pencils down in front of him as he set up the piles of paperwork how he apparently wanted. Mirabel picked up her hoop and the newly hemmed handkerchief. They went back to working in silence for a little.

“So, you like math?” Mirabel eventually asked, rolling her head around to ease the growing stiffness in her neck.

“I know, not very exciting,” he chuckled sheepishly, “and not always as useful as being able to sew.”

She had to smother an eye roll at the way he insulted his own interests. It reminded her of some of her more frustrating conversations with Isabela, who occasionally relapsed into trying to be perfect, or Bruno, who was just generally pretty down on himself.

“Most hobbies aren’t exciting to the people who aren’t into them,” Mirabel pointed out, “and it’s clearly very useful, because you’re here helping me.”

“Sí, but I don’t use anything other than basic arithmetic for actual practical stuff,” Juan pointed out, “most of the fun math is for sailors and scientists.”

“So why not be one of those?” She let humor color her voice, she knew as well as he did that he didn’t want to live anywhere other than Encanto. Their town may have had some problems, but not nearly as many as the rest of the world. Better the bean guy, or gift-less Madrigal, in a loving paradise than a captain on cold, apathetic seas.

“Oh please, could you imagine me sailing a ship,” he rolled his eyes, even as he humored her.

“Hm, not right now, but maybe once you grow out your sideburns.”

He laughed, the sound seeming to take him by surprise. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, then apparently gave up and just shook his head, chuckling.

Mirabel considered her handkerchief, she was halfway done with the phrase, and she could already tell it was going to be pretty bland. The other end of the handkerchief needed something to balance it out. She took some of his unused paper, tore off a shred, and slid it in front of him.

“Write down your favorite equation,” she said.

“Um, ok?”

“Trust me.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, writing a collection of Latin symbols and parenthesis on the scrap paper.

“What is it?”

“It’s a quantum physics equation,” he said, “uh, speaking of things that are not useful, it’s a new realm of study. Relatively new, I mean. It’s only about as old as our parents. This one has to do with uh Einstein’s thoughts on quantum entanglement.”

Mirabel cocked her head, plumbing the depths of her memory for when she helped purchase new books for the library, “That’s something to do with atoms being connected, no?”

“You-?! Sí! Well, close, particles being connected. Not necessarily atoms,” he said, “I’m surprised you’ve heard of it.”

She shrugged, and in a blithe voice said, “You’re not the only genius in the room.”

“No, because that would be you.”

“Oh come on,” she groused, she was getting kind of sick of him putting himself down.

“I’m serious,” he said, “look at that. You just made that, out of nowhere, in the time it’s taken me to read a few lists and stuff.”

“That’s not what I-,” Mirabel hesitated, she had only hung out with Juan two times before this, she didn’t want to get too personal.

“What? Not what you what?”

Then again. Maybe if this were nine years ago, Mirabel would have been more patient about this sort of thing, but it wasn’t nine years ago. Mirabel had spent the past almost decade dealing with her Tío Bruno’s self loathing, and she’d found that “being patient” with things like this didn’t do much to solve them.

“Why do you keep putting yourself down like that? You’re not going to burst into flames if you admit you’re impressively smart,” Mirabel said.

“Oh,” Juan looked down at the paperwork, eyes clearly staring right through it, then he shrugged sullenly, “I uh I just don’t want to give off the impression I think I’m better than anyone.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” Juan grimaced sheepishly, “I used to try to impress people, y’know, with how smart I am, but uh it just kinda made folks think I’m an arrogant asshole. So now, I don’t do that. I do the opposite actually, it seems to work better.”

“So you don’t actually think you’re an idiot.”

“No, not really, but bragging about how I can calculate the Earth’s distance from the sun based off some shadows doesn’t make people like me.”

Mirabel examined him for a minute, turning what he’d said over in her head, “So do you mean it, you know, when you compliment me? Or is that just to get me to like you?”

“It’s- both? Or, ugh, ok so this isn’t me putting myself down, but I am so much better with numbers than words.”

“I mean, you’re putting yourself down a little.”

“I know, but it’s also me complaining, so it doesn’t count,” he said. She did roll her eyes this time, but let him have this one.

“Well you don’t have to answer right away, you can think about it for a minute,” she offered, putting a hand on his arm.

He smiled at her, and seemingly accepted her offer, eyes going unfocused for a few minutes. She waited patiently, hand still on his arm.

“I know that a lot of people know how to sew, I know that not a lot of people know how to do math like I can,” he said slowly, “but uh, I had a lot of time to think y’know back when I was driving people away by trying to impress them. Common skills are common because people need them, because they’re genuinely useful. There might be a whole club dedicated to your art, but that’s because your art creates something people can use everyday. It’s not just that I don’t want to seem arrogant, I also don’t want to seem like I don’t appreciate what you can do. Like I take your skill set for granted.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that you can compliment me without insulting yourself?”

Juan started to say something, but froze halfway through the first letter of whatever word he was planning to start his sentence with. He pressed his lips together.

“Has it ever occurred to you that you could compliment me without insulting yourself?!”

“It is entirely possible I am only this good with numbers because my brain isn’t storing any other information,” he said, quietly.

Mirabel snorted, gently swatting his arm before taking her hand back, “I wouldn’t say it isn’t storing any other information, you seem to have a good memory.”

He nodded slowly, “Sí, all the better to remember every time I’ve embarrassed myself.”

“Everybody embarrasses themselves,” she said.

“Name one time you’ve embarrassed yourself.”

“Only Madrigal grandkid without a gift.”

“That doesn’t count, at worst it’s because that candle was a moron,” he waved her statement off. She giggled at the idea that a candle could be stupid, but decided she didn’t want to get into the whole miracle thing at that moment.

“I fall off of things a lot,” she said.

“Oh please, you-. Huh. You do, don’t you?”

“I really do.”

“That does make me feel a little better,” he gently nudged his shoulder against hers, “I mean, if even the great Mirabel Madrigal could fall every once in a while.”

“The great Mirabel Madrigal,” she scoffed.

He shrugged, “You have accomplished 30% more in your time on this earth than everybody else in the village. Except your Má and Abuela, of course.”

She felt her cheeks burn, “What? I have not. How would you even-?”

“Calculate it? Simple, an accomplishment is anything that takes work, and one is proud of when they’ve achieved it,” he said, “so a lot of your embroidery projects count as accomplishments. I am also counting giving birth and raising the child to adulthood as accomplishments (which is why your Má and Abuela are beating you). And that’s the sort of accomplishments that most people in the village have. But you’ve also modernized Encanto’s school curriculum, gotten new books for the library for the first time in decades, created a system where people can privately ask for help when they’re struggling to make ends meet, and now are setting up a new town government. Keep in mind, of course, that each of these accomplishments come with additional sub-accomplishments that must be accounted for-. What? Why are you smirking at me like that?”

“Nothing, I just had no idea you were paying so much attention to me,” she said.

“I’m not,” he argued, blushing, “not anymore than anyone else is.”

“Oh please, my own sister doesn’t keep track of all my projects like you apparently have,” granted, that was mostly because Isabela had gone from planning her wedding, to being pregnant, to being a new mother in very quick succession. All things that tended to monopolize a person’s attention. But still.

“That’s-. Adelaide talks about you a lot.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes. Really. Of course she does, you’re one of her favorite people.”

“Oh. Really?”

“Oh. Yes, really, she thinks you’re pretty great,” Juan said, “I know she can be really quiet but uh, if you get her one on one she tends to open up a bit more. Whenever we’re working on some astronomy project she talks about you, Josephine, Suzane, and Katrina a lot.”

“Huh, I had no idea,” Mirabel idly picked up the handkerchief and continued working on it, “I actually have been meaning to spend more time with her, anyone that gets along with my Tío Bruno has to be interesting.”

“Ay, she never shuts up about him,” Juan chuckled, “to hear her tell it, he’s the second funniest person in the village.”

“Whose the first?”

“I’d like to say me, but honestly, I think it’s whoever she has a crush on,” he shrugged, “but neither she nor Josephine will tell me who that is.”

“Ah,” Mirabel nodded. She didn’t have anything else to say, so she just kept sewing. After a few seconds, Juan picked his pencil back up and kept calculating.

He ended up staying for dinner, where he barely said a word. He seemed perfectly content to sit next to her in silence, listening to the conversation around him, but not adding anything. Considering that Tío Bruno was sitting on her other side, doing the same thing, it made it easy for Mirabel to dip in and out of the conversation without seeming rude.

When he left, Mirabel handed him the handkerchief. He stared at it with something bordering on awe.

“It’s just a handkerchief,” she said.

“It’s a Mirabel original,” he argued.

“You came up with the words.”

“You made them better, smoother,” he read it out to her, “May my pride never be worth more to me than my word.”

“That’s basically what you said.”

“I’ll keep it on me at all times,” he said, “can’t promise I’ll use it, but I’ll probably look at it twenty times a day for at least the next year.”

“I didn’t make it so you’d look at it,” she shook her head.

“Maybe not, but one does not wipe their brow with the Mona Lisa.”

That had been too much praise for Mirabel, face burning she had wished him a good night and fled back into the safety of Casita.

—

“You are never allowed to make fun of me for Bubo again,” Isabela said in way of greeting, pushing Mirabel’s door open without so much as the notion of knocking.

“Oh, hello Isabela! Please, come on in. No, no, no, don’t worry about knocking,” Mirabel said sarcastically, not looking up from the flowers she was embroidering, “I don’t ever want privacy or anything.”

“Seriously, the bean guy? You’re dating the bean guy?” Isabela asked.

“Still better than marrying Bubo,” Mirabel grumbled, “and I don’t know yet. He’s nice, but I’m not sure if, y’know, he likes me because I’m me, or because I’m a Madrigal.”

Isabela paused, then sighed, chuckling ruefully, “That right there is exactly why you’re not allowed to judge me for being with Bubo. She- He loves me for me. For the parts of me I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to share with the village.”

Mirabel’s hand froze, reluctantly she admitted, “As annoying as his machismo is, I do like how happy he’s made you.”

Isabela glanced at the open door, then closed it, “The machismo isn’t real. I- he’s not like that when he feels like he doesn’t have to be. It’s like how I used to try to be perfect, y’know; there’s more to him than he pretends there is.”

“In that case, can you tell him to knock it off? Or at least pick a different facade?” Mirabel huffed. Bubo had been getting better, calming down, acting more genuine. Mirabel had actually started to like her brother in law. Then his son was born and suddenly it was like somebody cranked the machismo up to eleven.

“I can try, but… let’s just say there’s a very specific reason he’s chosen this one.”

Mirabel made an unimpressed sound and continued sewing. She had figured something was going on, the way Bubo almost seemed to panic that one time Mirabel and Luisa had caught him with some of Isabela’s lipstick on his lips screamed Issues. But this family had gotten a literal crash course about why you needed to work through your issues rather than bury them, so Mirabel had a lot more patience for his pain than his pretenses.

“But seriously, the bean guy?”

“Maybe. I haven’t decided yet,” Mirabel repeated, “why?”

“Oh, because he’s downstairs with a gift for you.”

“What? Isa,” Mirabel hissed, hurriedly standing, “and you just left him waiting down there?”

“Oh he’s fine, I left him with Tío Bruno. They’re both kinda weird, I figured they’d have a lot to talk about.”

Mirabel rolled her eyes and rushed out her door.

In the courtyard below, Tío Bruno was struggling his way through a polite conversation with Juan, “What about plays? Do you uh, do you enjoy the theatre?”

“Um, one time I took a trip into the city to watch my favorite physicist give a lecture on his latest theorem,” Juan replied, “that’s sort of like a play, no?”

“No. B-but I mean! Uh. It um it sounds interesting?”

“Oh it was! How much do you know about light physics?”

“Um. Oh! Mirabel! Hola, you have a guest,” Tío Bruno stood abruptly, ignoring the loud crack of his bad knee, “he uh, he brought you math.”

“Math?”

“Adelaide said you might wish to see it,” Juan also stood, shrugging a little sheepishly.

“You’re friends with Adelaide?” Bruno asked, more like gasped. As if Juan had just revealed he had a third arm under his shirt.

“Sí, she has me do all her astronomy calculations for her.”

“Oh, ok. So that makes sense,” Tío Bruno said, putting a lot more emphasis on the word “that” than he probably realized. He looked between Mirabel and Juan a few times, then asked Juan, “What about fiction? Do you like fiction?”

“Not really.”

“And you don’t sew? Paint? Origami?”

“No, no, and no.”

“Hm, alright?” Tío Bruno glanced between them a few more times before abruptly walking away, “Bye.”

They watched him go.

“Adelaide said he wasn’t scary,” Juan huffed, “the liar.”

“He’s not scary,” Mirabel immediately jumped to defend her uncle.

“Oh sure, maybe not in the way everybody says he is, but I don’t think he likes me,” Juan shook his head, pouting just a little bit.

“Oh! No, that uh, that’s not what dislike looks like on him,” Mirabel shook her head, chuckling a little, “if he disliked you, he would have sat in the corner over there and stared at you, silently, until you got uncomfortable and left.”

“Like a grumpy cat?”

“Sí, but don’t tell him that, he prefers rats.”

“Wait, the rat thing is true?”

“Yeah, the rat thing is true.”

“I can see why Adelaide looks up to him.”

“Does she like rats?”

“No, she likes people who are nice to rats though,” he shrugged, “and spiders. And anything else people usually call vermin.”

“Ah, yeah, that’s Tío Bruno,” Mirabel chuckled, “anyway, you uh, you brought me math?”

“Oh, uh, sí,” he twisted and picked up a notebook he’d left behind on the couch, “it’s-, I uh, I calculated how much thread you’ve likely used in the past year.”

“What?” Mirabel gasped, surprised to find herself genuinely excited by that, “No way. How?”

“So you uh, told Adelaide how many spools of thread you used on her quilt, right? And she told me, and I wrote it down, and recently I measured the length of each stitch-.”

“Why?”

“Adelaide wasn’t giving me any numbers to play with,” he shrugged.

Mirabel giggled, “What?”

“She brings the quilt with her whenever we do astronomy club, right? Well, the other day we went out and she got really fixated on Saturn for some reason, but wasn’t giving me any data, so I got bored and started measuring your stitches.”

“Alright?”

“So, each of your stitches is about a fifth of an inch, and they max out at 2,000 stitches per square inch when you’re doing a full picture with shading,” Juan said, handing her the little notebook, “assuming you do the same amount of embroidery on each quilt, mind you, these are only preliminary calculations, for accurate numbers I would need to look at all of your projects in the last year, but! Using Adelaide’s quilt to calculate the amount of thread you use per square foot of cloth, factoring in that most of your embroidery is done on your own shirts and skirts, and keeping in mind that you sometimes do line art, or three dimensional things like your butterflies… about 1.5 thousand yards of thread.”

Mirabel gaped down at the notebook, slowly looking over the numbers, “I had no idea it was that much.”

“That’s honestly a very modest estimate,” he said, “I would need to go digging through your closet to get you a better number. Which would be a weird thing for me to do.”

She chuckled and nodded, but didn’t take her eyes off the little booklet of numbers, “Wow.”

“Yeah, so uh, that’s what I got,” Juan said, and when she looked up at him he was rubbing at the mole on his ear, “sorry to uh interrupt your Saturday afternoon with this, but Adelaide thought you might find it interesting.”

“I do! I absolutely do,” Mirabel answered, putting a hand on his bicep to reassure him, “thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome,” he said.

She watched, almost contemplatively, as the color rose in his cheeks the longer her hand was on his arm. Lately, Mirabel found herself growing fond of his face, even if it was a bit nondescript. She enjoyed talking to him, and made time to stop and chat with him whenever she was in town. Mirabel had gotten in the habit of checking in with her feelings since Casita fell, and lately whenever she checked her feelings, there was a new affection for “the bean guy”.

“I’m working on your sister’s shirt,” she said, slowly pulling her arm back, “would you uh like to come up and sit with me?”

“I would,” he nodded, “if you don’t mind?”

“I wouldn’t ask you if I did.”

“Sí. Right. That makes sense,” he chuckled following her as she led the way to her room. When they got there he stared at the shirt and new embroidery, eyes practically glowing with admiration, then he nibbled on his lip and slowly reached for her measuring tape. After checking her face for permission, he measured a few of her stitches.

Mirabel withheld a laugh, and waited until he was done, then sat on her couch and continued to sew. He sat a respectful distance away from her, scribbling in his notebook.

She liked this. She liked the quiet companionship of working on their hobbies next to each other. She liked that she felt relaxed with him, calm, at ease, like she didn’t have to be Señorita Madrigal.

Mirabel’s parents had told her their love story a few times, as parents tended to do. When she was a little girl, she’d thought it was the most romantic thing ever. Her father had fallen for her Má first, his constant need of her arepas giving him plenty of reason to think about her. Her mother had fallen for her Pá slowly, starting when her Pá commented on a new recipe her Má was trying. It wasn’t even that he’d complimented it, it was just that he had noticed when nobody else did, that he had paid attention to the work she put in, not just the magic he got out of it. Eventually, they started dating. Then they decided to get married, only for Abuela to initially disapprove of the match. Abuela had since said it was the grace and maturity with which Pá handled the rejection that changed her mind. Abuela’s approval earned, they got married, and the rest was history.

As a child, on the very rare occasions that Mirabel had contemplated falling in love, she’d of course hoped to follow the template of her parent’s story. However, now that she was an adult, she knew that any man her mother disapproved of likely wasn’t a good man.

Now that she was an adult, she had very different thoughts about what she wanted. Not just out of love, but life in general.

Mirabel wanted kids, she wanted free time for her hobbies, she wanted a busy schedule, she wanted noisy family dinners, she wanted quiet Saturday afternoons. Mirabel wanted to help her community like her Má and Abuela, but she had long since discovered she didn’t actually enjoy being treated as a Sainted Madrigal.

Whereas Mirabel had once wanted somebody to see the parts of her that were special, now she found herself hoping for somebody that saw the parts of her that weren’t.

Was she being realistic? Ungrateful? When she was younger, she had done everything she could to feel like A True Madrigal. Now she was considered the quintessential Madrigal and she wanted to feel like Just Mirabel. Was it possible to achieve a balance of the two?

“You’ve sighed twenty-one times in two minutes,” Juan suddenly said.

“Oh, sorry,” she felt her cheeks warm up, “just thinking.”

“Anything that you wouldn’t mind sharing?”

“Um, I don’t know if-,” she cut herself off, she wasn’t sure that he would understand, but she knew people didn’t like being told that. Actually, most of the villagers didn’t like being reminded that the magic family they’d placed up on a pedestal was full of real people.

“Does it have to do with the new town government?”

“Heh, not this time. And I’m told that if I’m thinking too hard about all that, I start growling,” she said, a bit sheepishly.

“Hm, is it a family matter?”

“No, no, the family is fine.”

“Is it a people thing?”

“A people thing?”

“Yeah, you know, how most people all kind of suck a little,” Juan said, shrugging, “you work so hard to not suck, I’m guessing dealing with people who don’t bother trying to be decent is extra tiring for you.”

Mirabel let her embroidery fall into her lap, and stared at him, letting that sentence revolve around her brain until she had picked out the part that had made her feel a little warmer, she repeated it back to him, “I work hard to not suck?”

“Don’t you?” he asked, and it sounded like an honest question more than he was defending his statement, “I suppose you could have been born as decent as you are, the human brain is such a mysterious machine. It is possible you could be, for lack of a better word, hard wired to be kind.”

“I do work hard at it. I just-,” she paused, trying to figure out how to phrase what she wanted to say. Was it weird to thank him for assuming she wasn’t born a perfect paragon and had to actually try to be a good person.

He waited.

Mirabel watched him wait for her, watched him for any signs of impatience. There were none.

Finally, she said, “I was thinking about the pedestal my family is put on by some of the other villagers.”

“Ah, sí, that,” he nodded, “I apologize for that.”

“Why? You don’t seem to-.”

“I think I do though,” he shook his head, “I’ve been thinking about your response to my theory that people like you because of science. The way you very cruelly laughed at me, that is to say. On reflection, it’s more likely I have you on a pedestal because you’re so kind and talented.”

“Or because you have a crush on me,” Mirabel pointed out without thinking. She immediately grimaced.

Juan froze, then he got very red, “What? No I don’t.”

“Right, yep, sorry, don’t know why I said that,” she immediately said.

He didn’t respond at first. She watched him as his eyes zipped back and forth beneath lowered brows.

Juan suddenly stood and started pacing.

“I do not have a crush on you.”

“Mm-hm.”

“That’s-. No. No I do not.”

“Of course, we can forget I said that,” she said, but Juan was still pacing, scowling at the ground. Every once in a while, he shook his head.

Suddenly he stopped, “I don’t have a crush on you, you’re just especially pretty.”

“Um.”

“No, I know how that sounds, but hear me out,” he held up a finger as if asking for one moment, “You are an especially pretty girl, I am a young man. It is only natural that I would spend this much time thinking about you.”

“Right,” Mirabel said slowly, not wanting to argue with him.

He scowled again, paced a few more laps, then said, “And the reason I think about you more than any of the other pretty girls is probably just because you’re a more interesting person.”

“Juan,” Mirabel said, gently.

“I know how this sounds,” he said, again, “but that’s just-, that’s just a fact. You are one of the most interesting people in the village! You’re creative and witty and highly intelligent. That-. Those are all traits that make a person interesting. It’s not a crush, you’re just pretty and interesting.”

“Ok, ok,” she nodded, slowly standing. She hadn’t meant to give Juan some sort of crisis.

“It’s not a crush,” he insisted.

“No, of course not,” she approached him carefully.

He watched her, once again reddening, “This isn’t a crush, i-it’s just biology.”

“Uh-huh, biology,” she nodded, putting a hand on his shoulder, “would you like to sit back down?”

Juan stared at her for a few beats, then glared at his shoes and grumbled, “I bet every guy my age wants to kiss you. It’s normal.”

Mirabel couldn’t help it. She giggled. His eyes snapped up to her, brimming with betrayal.

“Sorry, sorry, I-. That’s just-. It was a nervous giggle,” she was only mostly lying.

“I’m making you nervous,” he gasped, horrified.

“No, this conversation is,” she clarified, “I don’t know how to respond to uh this.”

“To me not having a crush on you?”

“To you insisting that I’m pretty and interesting and you want to kiss me, but you don’t have a crush on me.”

“I know how it sounds-.”

“Do you?”

He frowned, then sighed deeply, “I have a crush on you, don’t I?”

“I think you might.”

“I am so sorry.”

“I wouldn’t have invited you up here if I minded.”

“Right.”

They stared at each other for a few beats.

“You touch me more than you touch other people who aren’t a part of your family,” he gestured at the hand that was still on his shoulder. With a small spark of surprise, Mirabel realized she liked how blunt he was, it made things easier.

“I know,” Mirabel said, then decided she would be just as blunt back, “I’ve been trying to decide whether or not I should date you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I would like it if you did.”

“I noticed.”

“Right, of course you have,” he sighed again and returned to the couch sinking onto it and putting his head in his hands, “how long have I had a crush on you?”

“I don’t know,” Mirabel shrugged, “at least since the fabric store.”

He groaned, but didn’t say anything. After waiting a while, Mirabel returned to the couch and picked up her embroidery. She worked on it while he sat beside her, apparently grieving.

“Right,” he slapped his knees and stood, “guess I better get to work.”

“Work?” she asked.

“On flirting with you,” he paused to pick up his notebook, “I have a crush on you, and apparently I have an actual chance of being with you, so it would be stupid of me to just sit here panicking.”

“Oh,” Mirabel blinked up at him, “I kind of like being able to sit with you while we do our own thing, though.”

“Oh, then I’ll work on it here,” he sat back down and flipped to a new page in his notebook, “just don’t peek.”

Mirabel blinked at him a few more times, then she giggled again, only this time it wasn’t a single giggle that managed to sneak past her defenses, but a whole army of them.

“Is that a good sign?” he asked, blushing.

“Sí,” she nodded through her laughter.

“Hm,” he nodded thoughtfully and scribbled something in his notebook.

When he did eventually leave, he first ripped out a page with some calculations on it and gave it to her. Circled at the bottom was an estimation of how much string she would use on the blouse by the time she was done with it.

—

The next time she stopped in the market to chat with him, Juan greeted her by saying, “I talked to my sister, she says I’ve had a crush on you since your quinceñeara. And also that I’m not allowed to grow out my sideburns until after her wedding. I will be disowned, and possibly dismembered, if I ruin the wedding pictures.”

“Oh,” Mirabel quietly filed away the fact that his crush apparently started back when she was still The Giftless One, then asked, “You’ve had a crush on me for over nine years and didn’t notice?”

“Mirabel, I can not emphasize to you enough that my entire personality is math,” he told her, very seriously, “I spend all day sitting around, thinking about two things, you and math. Usually a combination of the two, actually. If you do decide to date me, at the end of every date I will graph how much you laughed, or blushed, or calculate the odds that you enjoyed the main course more than the dessert. There is nothing else in here but numbers. Like a cup full of dice.”

Mirabel felt a grin slowly stretch across her face.

“I’m serious,” he said, “I mean, I’ll try to be romantic, but unless you think me making a spreadsheet about your favorite coffee mix-ins is romantic, I can’t make any promises.”

“Is this you trying to convince me to date you?”

“This is me trying not to disappoint the woman I’ve apparently had a crush on for a decade,” he said, then he huffed as if frustrated, “Can you believe I’ve had a crush on you for a decade and my sister never told me?”

“I mean, she probably assumed you knew,” Mirabel pointed out.

He shook his head, “No, she said she thought it was funny that I didn’t.”

“Ah, that-. Yeah, that’s the sorta thing Isabela or Camilo would do,” Mirabel reached over the counter of the bean stall to put her hand on his shoulder, “at least you know now.”

“It was a little easier to look at you when I didn’t,” he said, eyes skittering away from her as a grumpy pout pushed out his lower lip.

Mirabel found herself giggling a little.

“You promise that’s a good sign,” he double checked, sounding equal parts weary and wary.

“Sí, you’re-,” she stopped herself before she called him adorable, Camilo had made it very clear that most men did not like that, “charming.”

Juan considered this, then slowly nodded, “I can deal with that.”

“Señorita Madrigal,” a voice interrupted them, Mirabel turned to find Señor Rivierra waving her down, “do you have a moment to discuss the elections for city council?”

Mirabel bit her lip and glanced at Juan. She didn’t actually want to leave, but she did want to talk about the elections with Señor Rivierra.

“Go ahead,” Juan quietly said, “I’ll be here whenever you got a free moment.”

“I’m going to work on your sister’s gift at Lucia’s after the market closes, I know Jo and Adelaide will be there today, you should come spend time with us,” Mirabel invited him, “help me get to know Adelaide.”

“I would love that,” he smiled quietly, “I honestly can’t think of a better way to spend an evening.”

“Great, I’ll see you there,” she squeezed his arm, then drew back. As she walked away with Señor Rivierra, she kept finding herself looking back at him over her shoulder. He waved at her every time she did.

—

“Hey Má,” Mirabel walked into the backyard two days later, “you got a minute to share some motherly wisdom?”

Her Má glanced up from her herb garden with a bright smile, “Oh, I have all the time in the world for my brilliant daughter.”

Mirabel fondly rolled her eyes, although now that she had two nephews, Mirabel was beginning to understand the urge to gush over the kids in your life. Still, she good-naturedly groaned, “Má.”

“What? It’s true,” Julieta shrugged, clipping off a few more sprigs of cilantro, “come into the kitchen with me. Tell me what you need.”

Mirabel followed her mother and pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. For a few minutes she watched her Má bustle around the kitchen, getting a soup started, it would seem.

“How did you know Pá loves you for you, and not for the whole Madrigal thing?” Mirabel asked.

“Oh, is this about Juan,” her mother threw her a somewhat sly smile, a teasing glint in her eye.

Mirabel bypassed the teasing however, “I’m surprised you know his name. It kinda seems like nobody does.”

Even Jo called him “the bean guy” half the time.

“He got tutored by your father when he was, oh gosh, ten years old perhaps. Your Pá was very impressed by his head for numbers,” Julieta grinned a little conspiratorially, “and he is dying to know if you two are dating.”

“I’m thinking about it,” Mirabel said slowly, “but I-. I want to be with somebody who likes Mirabel, not y’know, Mirabel Madrigal.”

“Hm, sí. You, as usual, are wise beyond your years,” Julieta shrugged a little rueful grin on her face, “I didn’t notice the difference between being loved for who I am and being admired for my gift until I had been dating your father for six months. I suppose I didn’t realize going into it that he saw me for me, it was only when we had our first fight and he was still just as in love with me afterwards that it clicked.”

“Your first fight, huh?”

“Sí, I have done my best to shield you from how petty I can be,” Julieta gave her a sheepish smile, “but you can ask your Tía about that. There was this one Christmas-, you know how hard it is to shop for your Tío Bruno, sí? Well, there was this one Christmas I had come up with the perfect idea for him, I told Pepa, and your lovely Tía stole it before I could get to the market. Oh, I was furious. And I did not handle it with grace.”

“What’d you do?”

“Well, first of all she stole the idea at the end of October, and I gave her the silent treatment until I had found a new gift,” her mother paused for dramatic effect, “half way through December.”

“No. Má, a whole month?”

“Sí, a whole month. And a half. Plus I cooked her least favorite foods for dinner every night, that entire time.”

“Má!”

“Like I said, I have a petty streak,” she shrugged, “and your Pá saw it but loved me all the same. He didn’t lay down and take it, mind you. He told me flat out if I treated our kids that way he would never trust me alone with them, but he didn’t love me any less once he saw my imperfections.”

Mirabel contemplated this. Weirdly, it reminded her of her recent conversation with Juan in the market, of the way he had tried to warn her flat out what he thought she might not like. She doubted the math thing would ever actually bother her, she was way more bothered about the way he still occasionally put himself down, but none of that was a deal breaker for her.

She tried to think about what parts of her might be a deal breaker for him, it was hard though, so far he had been so easy going she couldn’t imagine him getting truly annoyed by much of anything.

Her Má paused what she was doing to face Mirabel, “I know you’re not anywhere near being there yet, but when your Pá and I started thinking about marriage, I kept thinking about that conversation. About his conviction that he would protect you guys from me if I ever slipped up. At the end of the day, that was what I wanted most out of a husband. Not just somebody who loved me warts and all, but somebody who I could count on to hold me accountable when it came to our kids. Parenting is hard, nobody gets it exactly right, and having somebody who’ll carry the load with you is important.”

Julieta didn’t say it, but they were both thinking of how Abuela had been forced to raise her own children alone, and all the problems that had caused. More than ever, it was clear that Abuela loved her familia, however; nobody was perfect. She had had nobody around to make up for what she lacked, she had gone decades without anyone who could call her out on mistakes she hadn’t noticed herself making. And the triplets had suffered for it.

But, Mirabel realized, all of the work Abuela had put into making things up to the familia had demonstrated better than any hug how much Abuela cared.

So she didn’t need to be perfect, she didn’t even need to find somebody with whom she could be a perfect parenting duo. She just needed somebody who saw her imperfections, loved her despite them, and was honest with her when she made mistakes.

She hugged her mother, thanked her for her time and wisdom, then went up to her room and gathered some paper and pencils. Mirabel made it to the market just before close, and spent some time milling about, checking in with a few of the villagers. When the market closed and people started packing up, she approached Juan’s stall and waited patiently while he transferred all the beans into the storage shed.

“Hola, what can I do for you?” he asked, traces of his customer service voice lingering after a long day of work.

“I want you to teach me how to do your favorite formula, the quantum one,” she said.

Juan blinked at her a few times, then in a very calm voice said, “Marry me.”

Mirabel snorted and giggled, “I’m serious.”

“I kind of am too,” Juan said, shaking his head and laughing a little, “what’s brought this on?”

“I’ll explain after,” she shrugged.

“Alright,” he said slowly, then gestured for her to follow him, “uh, how much math do you know? Did you ever learn any calculus?”

“Um, no, I learned some geometry in school, some accounting from my Pá, and I’ve been learning some statistics for the whole town government thing,” she said.

“Statistics? How about we do that instead,” he held his front door open for her, “so you can actually use whatever you learn.”

“I didn’t bring my statistics book,” she pointed out, she’d thought she’d be learning some theoretical physics.

“I have a few, I’m guessing you’re trying to learn how to best interpret polls and stuff?”

“Sí, and to figure out when we need to add another school, where to put it, how to divide up the students,” Mirabel rattled off, “oh, and where to put the different polling locations to make voting as easy as possible for everybody.”

“Let’s do the polling location thing, I helped with the census you guys did a few months back, so I should have all the data we need,” he said, leading her down the hall to his room.

“Works for me,” she followed him into his room, pausing in the door to take it in.

She was not surprised to see the two floor to ceiling bookshelves either side his desk, each filled with titles like “Differential Calculus”, “All about Angles”, and “The Math of Divinity”. She was surprised to realize she recognized something in a picture frame by his bed. It was a little card she had made, one of dozens to be honest, she had passed them out at the end of her quinceñeara to thank guests for coming. Each one had been shaped like a butterfly, and she’d used yarn leftover from other projects to “embroider” the patterns on the butterfly’s wings. He had it displayed so that the card was open, the butterfly’s wings were spread. Quietly, she picked it up.

“Looking back, knowing what I do now, I think that butterfly is what got my attention,” Juan said, coming up behind her. She could feel his warmth at her back.

“Really? This?”

“Sí, it’s so simple, but so creative,” he said, “and you went through the trouble of making at least one for every family that came. It’s-. You’ve always been so good at striking that balance between being absolutely brilliant, and genuinely warm. At the time I… I would have given anything to do the same.”

“This was-. Back then I really wanted people to see me as being just as special as the rest of my family,” she admitted, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. Even nine years after the fact she didn’t like telling people how much she’d hungered for approval.

“It worked,” Juan said, then paused, when she glanced at him over her shoulder he looked thoughtful, “at least, it worked on me. Although I think I’ve always assumed there was some reason you didn’t get a gift, some factor in the equation that hadn’t been revealed yet. It makes no logical sense otherwise.”

Mirabel sighed, nodding. Ever since the miracle had been reborn, an assumption had bubbled up among the villagers. She’d overheard two people discussing it shortly after the miracle came back.

“-with the way she’s stepped up, just like a mini Alma, it would make sense,” the woman who sold tea on Saturdays said, sitting in her stall at just the wrong angle to see Mirabel.

“I don’t get why the magic couldn’t just stay in the candle, though,” the man who was leaning against the side of the stall replied, not looking over his shoulders to see Mirabel right behind him.

“I don’t either, but what’s more likely? That the grandkid who takes after Dona Alma the most didn’t get a gift, but just so happened to have magic to repair the miracle as a complete coincidence; or, that she’s the miracle’s chosen successor,” the woman said, “I just hope we don’t have to build a new house every time the magic passes on.”

It wasn’t that Mirabel hadn’t considered it. It wasn’t exactly a huge leap. It was more a perfectly normal sized step. And she knew other people, including her Abuela, had reached the same conclusion. But her Abuela, her entire familia, approached it differently than the villagers did.

“I never should have gotten so caught up in the miracle,” Alma had said the morning after Mirabel’s twentieth, shaking her head, “if I had just taken a step back I would have seen it so much sooner. You have always been-.”

“You’re b-basically all the best parts of this family concentrated into a little ball of crafts and attitude,” Bruno had jumped in, holding his fingers together and squinting at them as if he was trying to read something on a tiny piece of paper, “it was such a shock that you didn’t get a gift, I-I think we just-. I dunno.”

Alma had given her son a fond smile as he shrugged and waved away the sentence he’d abandoned, they had been standing in the kitchen waiting for the coffee to brew, she eyed it as she spoke, “We couldn’t see the forest for all the trees. If I hadn’t allowed the miracle to define us so, I may have noticed sooner what an incredible young woman you were becoming.”

“There were a lot of things we shouldn’t and should have done,” Tío Bruno said, eyeing the walls that no longer held a secret corridor to his secret room, “but uh I guess if one of us had stepped up and done all that communicating stuff, we would have been the ones to bring the magic back.”

It was a small difference between “turns out Mirabel was special because she was chosen by the miracle all along” and “Mirabel was chosen by the miracle because it turns out she was special all along”. But it was a small difference that made a big impact.

Lately, Mirabel had been feeling closer and closer to her family, but just a little farther from the rest of the village. Lately, she had been put up on the same pedestal as the rest of her family, and she sort of missed being among the crowds.

But even worse than that, “It stings a little, that none of this worked. That all the hard work and passion I put into being creative and helpful never earned me any real respect. But that putting a doorknob in a door did.”

“What do you mean? This is impressive,” Juan reached around her to gently hold the part of the frame she wasn’t, “and people have always loved you. How-? I am honestly asking, respect must have been, I don’t know, how could they not respect you?”

Mirabel smiled, turning fully to look at him, “It isn’t that people didn’t like me, or that they looked down on me. They pitied me. I used to get things for free, not because I helped watch everybody’s kids, or because I played the accordion at so and so’s wedding, but because I was the only Madrigal without a gift. The good ol’ not special, special. Pity isn’t respect.”

“If they only respect you for the doorknob, is that actually respect?”

“I don’t know,” Mirabel shrugged, “this is-, all of this, the way people look at me now that they assume I have magic, the pedestal my family’s on, all of that, it’s been bothering me lately.”

“Only lately?”

“It’s slowly built up over the past nine years,” she admitted, “at first it was really nice to finally feel like ‘a real Madrigal’, and it took a few years for that to fade. When I turned twenty people suddenly started talking about me getting married and it made me think about what the rest of my life is going to look like. And over the past four years, well… it’s slowly sinking in that all this stuff is just going to be a part of my life forever now. I’ve spent so much of the past nine years solving problems, realizing these ones are out of my control is driving me a little crazy.”

“That makes sense,” he nodded, “that sounds pretty frustrating.”

Mirabel looked up at him, he wasn’t that much taller than her, it was entirely possible he was the exact height you’d get if you took an average of everybody in town. She examined him openly, and he stood quietly, letting her.

“It’ll be a part of my spouse’s life, and my kids’,” she warned him quietly, “the village does genuinely love us, b-but they love us as leaders, not as neighbors. Being with me means being seen as something a little bit other.”

Juan cocked his head, “I hadn’t considered that.”

Mirabel gulped, waiting to see what he’d say next.

“I will have to think about it,” he eventually declared, “but I suppose that’s the point of dating, isn’t it? To test out what a life together would look like.”

Mirabel shrugged, while shaking her head minutely, “I’m pretty sure the point of going on dates is to spend quality time together. At least, that’s why my parents do it.”

“Ah, I will keep that in mind,” he nodded, then he seemed to settle back on his heels, as if waiting for something. After a few beats, she realized he was waiting to see if she would talk about her thoughts and worries some more.

Mirabel really kind of hoped she was right about him. That this would work out and she’d end up with this quiet, kind of strange man who listened to her and admired her hard earned skills and bluntly spoke his mind.

“You uh wanna get started on this math lesson?” she prompted.

“I would absolutely love to,” he said, “here, sit, I’ll grab another chair and all the census data we need.”

The rest of the afternoon and evening was fairly frustrating for both of them. Juan never once raised his voice, grew snide, or implied she lacked intelligence, but she quickly learned that when he was annoyed he’d clench his jaw and sigh through his nose. On the other side, Mirabel struggled to grasp some of the more esoteric equations, but absolutely refused to just let him do the math for her, or even to let him move on to the next concept until she’d correctly explained what he’d just taught her back to him.

When they were informed dinner was on the table (and Mirabel was given a last minute invitation to said dinner), they packed up their calculations in tense silence.

Once everything was cleaned up, Mirabel put a hand on Juan’s arm to keep him from leaving the room. She took a few deep breaths and reminded herself why she put the two of them through this.

“Do you still have a crush on me?” she asked.

“Oh, after seeing how hard you’ll work to understand things, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you,” he said, but he was scowling, “however I never want to do that again.”

Mirabel chuckled, “To be honest, neither do I. But I kinda have to do stuff like this if I want to help our village.”

“Fuck our village,” Juan sighed, rubbing at his temple, “I don’t mean that, but also I do feel it. Deeply.”

“Yeah, I do too sometimes,” she also sighed.

“You are incredible, that sucked though,” he said, “I deeply admire how dedicated you are, that you didn’t try to cut a single corner, but I am dreading the next time we do this.”

“Well, at least this miserable experience has brought us closer together,” she laughed a little.

“Has it?”

After a split second’s hesitation, she stepped into his space and kissed him on the cheek, “It has.”

Face burning, she fled down the hall as calmly as she could manage. He caught up with her a few seconds later.

“On second thought, I am happy to do this again tomorrow if it means you’ll kiss me,” he informed her, voice light but matter of fact.

When they reached the dining room Mirabel was giggling.

—

Mirabel had just put the last stitch on the last flower on the blouse for Juan’s sister, when somebody knocked at her door. She put the blouse down and stood, walking over to the door and trying her best not to get her hopes up. When she opened the door it was just Camilo.

“Oh, it’s you,” she sighed, accidentally letting her disappointment leak into her voice. She hadn’t really seen Juan all week. He’d sought her out a few times after the math lesson, then suddenly stopped, but continued to light up whenever she stopped to chat with him at the market. Unfortunately, people were starting up their campaigns for city council, and she only had seconds to spare throughout her day.

Camilo, strangely enough, didn’t tease her for her obvious disappointment. He didn’t say anything. He just crossed his arms, leaned on the door frame, and stared at her, eyes narrowed.

“Did you need something?” she asked.

“The bean guy?”

“He has a name, y’know.”

“Sure, sure, sure. I’m sure he does. And you know? He seems real nice. But… why?”

“He’s a good listener, I like his sense of humor, we can relax togeth-,” Mirabel paused, then sighed, “he’s downstairs waiting for me, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, but I left him with Tío Bruno, so they’re probably happy to talk about weird stuff together.”

“They are two different genres of weird,” Mirabel grumbled, pushing past her cousin. Sure enough, when she got downstairs, Tío Bruno was once again staring at Juan like he was a Swedish book of riddles.

“How about basket weaving?”

“Nope, just math.”

“Flower arranging?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Finger puppets?”

“Afraid not.”

“Interpretive dance?”

“Mm no, just math.”

“3D printing?”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Right, yeah, I think it’s from the future. Sorry. Uuuh? How about making hedgehogs out of your handprint?”

“Like in school?”

“Sí.”

“Uh no, not since I was nine.”

Mirabel cleared her throat before Bruno could continue the interrogation. Juan was visibly relieved, while Tío Bruno turned to look at her, mouth screwed up in confusion. She tried to signal with her eyes that she wanted him to leave, but he either ignored or didn’t notice the nonverbal request. Mirabel sighed.

“Juan, just in time, I just finished your sister’s blouse,” she said, “would you like to come up and see it?”

“I-, sí, very much so,” he nodded, looking two parts eager and one part uncomfortable as Tío Bruno continued to examine the both of them.

“Great, let’s go,” she took his hand and pulled him towards the stairs as soon as he’d taken it.

Behind them, Tío Bruno muttered, “Weird.” in a voice that wasn’t nearly as quiet as he probably thought it was.

Mirabel rolled her eyes and was about to apologize to Juan, when she noticed Camilo was “casually” leaning on the rail between the stairs and her room. She glared at him while they passed, but he pretended not to notice. Mirabel pushed through her door and closed it, narrowing her eyes at Camilo as he strolled closer as if he just sort of happened to be wandering on over. The last thing she saw as the door closed was the Oh So Innocent look on his face.

“Are you sure your family doesn’t hate me?” Juan asked, as soon as the door was closed.

“No, Tío Bruno talks to you, that means he likes you,” she said, then turned to her door and shouted, “and Camilo is just a nosey asshole!”

“Yeah Bean Guy, don’t let it get to you,” Camilo called back, and if Juan wasn’t already looking so nervous she would have gone out and smacked the smarmy grin Camilo was definitely wearing off his stupid face. She glared at the door, then dragged Juan further into her room where Camilo wouldn’t be able to hear them.

“Anyway! Hola, how’ve you been,” she said, once she thought they were far enough from the door.

“Uh frustrated, to be honest.”

“Oh. Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he shook his head, “but I’ve been working on something that I am not good at.”

That said, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a knit flower on a choker. It was Mirabel’s favorite shade of teal, with a yellow center and a green leaf. On the blue ribbon of the choker there were tiny maroon butterflies lining the top and bottom of the ribbon.

Mirabel gasped, “You made this?”

“Sí, it took me all week and Josephine had to stop by my place once a day to show me how to fix my mistakes. I had to redo the ribbon four times, but I’ve done it. I have made you a necklace,” he held it out to her, looking genuinely proud of himself, “I chose the yarn for the flower based on the fact you wear that shade of teal sixty percent more than any other color. Then I had Josephine and my sister help with colors to match it.”

Mirabel bypassed the choker to hug him. Well, technically she pounced on him, but she couldn’t think of any other way to express how she felt.

“Well, that’s a good sign,” Juan said, wrapping his arms around her, “right?”

“Sí.”

“Great! Would you like to be my date for my sister’s wedding?”

“Sí.”

“Even better,” he said, still holding her. He was warm, and delightfully sturdy. A part of her just wanted to stand there and rest against him for the rest of the day. She had a meeting with the city council candidates tomorrow to discuss campaigning rules and it would be nice to spend the day relaxing against him. However, she was pretty sure they should actually go on a few dates before she asked him to spend thirteen hours holding her.

Slowly, Mirabel released him, he took his cue from her and let her go. When they were far enough apart that she could see his face, he was grinning ear to ear. She smiled fondly up at him.

“Will you put it on me?”

“Oh, sí, of course,” he held the necklace up as she turned around and carefully put it around her neck, buttoning it in the back while she held her hair up out of the way. When she turned back to him he saw his hard work on her neck, and his grin got just a little wider.

Mirabel chuckled a little, “Feels really good seeing somebody wearing something you worked hard on, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, incredible, but uh, this is probably something I’m not doing again,” he chuckled a little sheepishly, “at least, not without your help. Josephine kept smacking me.”

Mirabel giggled at the mental image, “She can be very outspoken about her opinions.”

“Outspoken is one thing, but why’d she hit me?” he grumbled, shaking his head, then he perked up, “Anyway! You said you finished my sister’s blouse?”

“I did, come on,” she took his hand again and led him to the couch where she’d been working on the blouse. After double checking that the last stitch was secure, she took it out of the embroidery hoop and handed it to him. He held it up, eyes meticulously roving over every detail.

“Maybe I’ll just keep it, frame it in my room like the butterfly you made,” he said, not taking his eyes off the flower chain on the collar.

“Oh no you don’t, this is some of the best work I’ve ever done, I want to see her wearing it,” she put her hands on her hips, “now, what about her husband?”

“Her husband?”

“Sí, it’s a wedding gift, no? You’re generally supposed to give things for both the bride and groom,” Mirabel pointed out.

“Oh, uh, right. That guy.”

“That guy?” she snorted, shaking her head, “Do you not like him or something?”

“No, I do. But you know how it is, she’s my only sister, I guess I imagined a prince would swoop in and make her a princess,” Juan shrugged, sitting on the couch, “I like him, and I like seeing her happy, but I guess it just feels weird to see her marry a real person.”

“You have a brother, don’t you?” Mirabel asked, sitting next to him, “Isn’t he married?”

“Ah, sí, but he was married and helping his wife care for his in-laws at their place, by the time I was born, so he’s more like an uncle. Honestly, I’m closer to my sister in law than I am to my brother,” he shrugged, “but my sister. She was my first friend. It’s kinda sad, you know, seeing her move onto the next step of life. A step that involves her leaving our home.”

Mirabel smiled sympathetically but couldn’t offer anything more than a hand in his. Madrigals did not move out of Casita, people who married Madrigals moved in. She’s never had to worry about her siblings and cousins dispersing to the wind.

Juan sighed, and flashed her a bittersweet smile, “But you’re right, I should get him something too.”

“I can embroider something for him that matches,” she said, “what does he usually wear?”

“Hats,” Juan said, “he is always wearing a hat. He’s balding.”

“Hats, ok, I’ll make him a hat with a matching pattern on the brim,” she said, “do you know what his head size is?”

“No, but I know where he gets his hats, I’m sure if we tell the hatter that we’re making a wedding gift, he’ll give us any information you need,” he started to stand, “oh, if you don’t mind going right now.”

“No, not at all,” she also stood, “we should do this quickly.”

They left hand in hand and strolled their way down to the hatter’s shop, talking about their families and gifts and weddings. The hatter loved the idea of giving the couple matching clothes, and gave them a hat for free, so long as they agreed to put his name on the card. On their way back, they stopped for some coffee and a couple pastries. Then they spent the rest of their day sitting together on her couch. Her embroidering the hat, him calculating how much string she’d ended up using on the blouse.

In a year, they would have a small spat over whether that counted as their first date, or whether their first date was a week later when they got lunch together. The spat wasn’t serious, but Mirabel had been working on Juan’s gift with the later deadline in mind and was embarrassed it wasn’t finished. Meanwhile, Juan had gotten what he considered to be their anniversary engraved on the ring he’d gotten her, and he wasn’t sure how to explain that without giving away the surprise.

Ultimately, Mirabel let him win when he got down on one knee. She had found somebody who wanted to marry her even when she was being stubborn and sarcastic. That made her the real winner in the long run.

#encanto #mirabel madrigal #mirabel encanto #Mirabel Madrigal x OC #Mirabel x OC #not in the Love and Fury verse #Juan Madrigal #Almost called this one The Bean Guy

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