Those We Hide (from), Those We Heal | Chapter 2
A/N: hugs for Dolores in this chapter, she is not vibing <\3
Also on AO3 and FFN, under the same name/username
---
Why was it all so incredibly loud?
It was no surprise, really. It never was. Dolores was old enough to know her limits and attending a party had many.
It was also no surprise to have found out her family was invited to said party in the first place. She had heard – of course, she had heard – a discussion amongst the abuelos mere minutes before the surprise was given.
One minute, Señor López would have the pleasant surprise of the party they set, the next minute, the family's hard labour would be rewarded with invitations to stay longer. It was no big deal, really; most of the family seemed surprised but not unhappy with the invitation.
Dolores would make it work, if not for herself than for them. She knew parties were difficult to sit through, but it wasn't something impossible to manage. If she could leave a smile rendered on her lips for a few more hours and a positive attitude alongside, maybe she could even convince herself to enjoy it.
That compromise seemed to work, for the most part. It became a pleasant surprise once she found herself indulging in fun, mindless party games with her cousins and other kids her age, sharing talk and gossip with those she was more familiar with; allowing her mind to ease from earlier stress, forget about listening to the world around her for a while.
She even found herself enjoying the rest. The noise around her became powerless as she found herself focused on no-brain activities, acting like a kid her age for once. Not walking throughout the town all day, listening to this or that person, sending messages for those too lazy to do so themselves- no, this was an afternoon for her to rejuvenate and rest. Her mind managed to rest for once and she barely registered her earlier headaches.
So why couldn’t she make it work?
The party was working out alright for her, all until it wasn’t. She was having lighthearted fun, all until she eventually burned out. All until it became so incredibly loud.
She wasn’t sure when exactly it happened; when her mind switched into hyperfocus, regaining awareness of the sounds around her. Mismatched footsteps, plucking untuned strings, a yelp, gossip from another table; whatever managed to slip her mind for a few hours gradually came back into focus.
Maybe it was her growing tiredness, the desire to run back to her quiet room with her book and a more comfortable dress – alone, relaxed, in a calm environment. Her headache from the morning began to resurface as if it never left in the first place. All she wanted to do now is hide from it, even if only for a moment. To hide from all the noise.
She had tried to push her boundaries for attending parties, to repay the kindness of the invitation and keep up the Madrigal's image. She was reaching her limit.
So she stood off to the side, away from the crowd, and certainly away from where the band was stationed. That would do little good, still able to hear every intricate detail of this event from a mile away, but maybe she could believe the distance would ease her pulsing headache. At least for a little while.
Even if she was mentally restricted from covering her ears, or cowering away from the party like a little girl, the least she could do was provide herself with a sliver of comfort. If standing beside Tía Julieta's station of healing food on the opposite end of the party was considered socially appropriate self-care, she wouldn't squander the opportunity.
The environment certainly seemed to ease her. An odd person or two hung out around the table, but for the most part, the aura remained much more relaxing than that of the main event. Her fingers ran through the soft cloth of the table, distracting herself with the texture against her aching hands. Not rough, but coarse; an interesting texture.
Her eyes wandered to a plate of pastries. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to try easing her tired bones, or even her headache.
Dolores knew it likely wouldn't do much; receiving Julieta's food a few hours later rarely worked more than regular food did. If nothing else, it was food, and it was good food, so all in all she had nothing to lose. A few small pastries never hurt anyone.
Eventually, her gaze did wander back to the party. Her family, all still enjoying themselves. It amused her to see her younger brother and cousin playing amongst other village kids even at this hour, not showing exhaustion in the slightest. Her other younger prima also seemed to relax – for once –, and of course, her not-twin Isabela was the center of entertainment at one of the tables.
The adults were all over the place, though. Abuela sat amongst the other abuelos, adoring eyes all focused on Isabela's displays. The Guzmán's at the table also had eyes on her… Out of those not currently focused on her older prima, her Tía was talking amongst a table of mothers, while her parents were lively and dancing along to Tío Agustín's music.
If she didn’t have this gift, it would be easier to sit amongst those still lively tables at this hour. To keep talking, interacting with her peers for once and you know, enjoying the party. Yet she was here, at the edge of it all, alone with nothing but a handful of polvorosas. Why had her gift forsaken her so?
She sighed. Maybe, after sitting out this damned headache, she would be able to convince herself to rejoin them and have some fun. Until then, she had to watch and listen, with no way of escaping.
-
"Everything alright, Lola?"
Her father's voice brought her back to reality. Of course, she knew he was coming. The songs ended not long before, and she heard her parents talk to one another before Félix offered to talk to her… but she chose not to register any of this until it happened.
"Yeah, I'm alright, thank you for asking." She didn't mean any of her words to be hostile or defiant, nor did she expect them to be. Whatever mask she could manage to hold throughout this party should still cover her desire to leave, at least for a little while longer.
Even a blind man could tell, though; no bored teenager hiding away from a party is simply 'alright'. What her voice did give away was her tiredness, and her expression could give the impression of irritability; of wanting to leave.
Neither was wrong, which seemed to be the consensus. Her father gave her a look of concern, an understanding that managed to reach her sight. A hand rested on her shoulder, rubbing it softly with his thumb, before giving it a soft pat. "Okay…" he offered, "We'll be over there if you need anything, alright mija?"
Dolores nods. He knew she was tired, no point in pushing herself to talk when she didn't want to. She wanted to at least have given the man some reassurance, a simple 'sí' in promise… but she didn't have to, and that left an odd sense of peace in the pit of her chest. Her father was a great man for that and many more reasons, but his respect for sure.
She watched him return to his wife's side, unable to see but able to hear enough. They shared worry. For a second, at least, before returning to dance. She’d be surprised if it went any different.
Watching the rest of the party from here was all Dolores figured she would be able to do from now on out. Her current seat was a little closer than her earlier one at the healing cart – she couldn’t stay away forever – which meant she got a better, more intricate view of the festivities; and a better study of the guests.
In tiredness, she found it hard to focus on much, but without many daylight hours left, more people grew tired. More people sat around, talking amongst themselves, rather than contributing to a collective gaggle of noises. Their conversations were about as interesting as they could be for someone who hears this every day, but listening to mindless talk wasn't much of a chore anyway.
She kept composure as the sounds of small, heavy steps running rampantly towards her direction took over everything else. "Lola, catch me!" It barely took any time to register before her youngest prima burst out of a small group of people nearby and decided to run and jump directly into her lap, startling her a little.
Of course, the girl was not all that heavy. The adrenaline of running and jumping made her sudden weight shock Dolores, however. Her arms formed somewhat around her prima's figure, to seem as if she 'caught' her; it was quite amusing to witness. As the girl took her time to adjust herself and her glasses, both of their heads found themselves turning to face another figure approaching.
He didn't need to unshift for Dolores to know it was Camilo. The way he ran and panted gave it away. "Hey, no fair!" The nine-year-old boy stopped a few feet away from them, doubling over to catch his breath – it somehow had been easier for Mirabel to catch hers, her chest barely heaving by now.
"No fair?" It took the girl no time to get back at him, "You can shapeshift into taller people!"
That he had done – but it didn't seem like a good enough reason for him. "Oh yeah? Well‐" he stopped, unshifting quickly, then looking back up at the two girls with a pointed accusing finger, "You're using Lola as a shield! She's my sister!"
"You can share!" She pointed back.
"You already have two sisters!"
"So??"
"So??"
As much fun as it was to watch them bicker, they were starting to get too loud. Dolores was able to tolerate them sometimes, even enjoyed their company and being involved in their games – but she drew the line at shouting matches.
"Hermanos, what's all this about?" She made sure to be loud enough to interrupt them, but not enough to make her cover her ears. They would understand if she needed to, but it would be better if she didn't. Besides, they looked way too caught up in their little game to notice.
"Oh, like you don't already know!"
Okay first of all, rude – but he had a point. What exactly was he referring to? She had no idea. It must have escaped her hearing earlier – she couldn't remember a single clue as to what Camilo could be talking about. "No, I don't, actually," she tried to explain, "Now will you tell me what's wrong?"
The kids glanced back and forth at each other for a second, accusations building up within them. Anyone could see it from a mile away, their hesitation battling a lack thereof to spill their reasoning. It would be a matter of who said it fir- "Camilo spilled Abuela’s drink!"
And there it was.
"You spilled it!"
"Did not!"
It seemed to suddenly hit them, how horrible of a mistake they just made. Dolores couldn't help but smirk; if she didn't know before, she knew now, and that wasn't good for the two of them. They both stared at her.
"You won't tell her, right?"
That wasn't necessarily something she could promise. If Abuela didn't already know who the culprits were, it was not unlikely she would ask around. However, she doubted something so minuscule would require her services. While a word about it might slip some time in the future, she doubted it would be relevant enough to circle back to Abuela. "No promises."
"Awh." They both pouted, looking both a mix of tired and upset – though they didn't seem to care all that much. Or they would be more scared.
Dolores let out a soft squeak as conversation from the López's table caught her attention. Some words caught her interest more than others, but she ultimately understood: the party would end soon.
They planned to play one more song – Señor López's favourite song – before the send-off.
A weight in her chest lifted. Dios, she didn't want to be ungrateful, but nothing could've made her happier at that moment than the promise of reaching her bed soon. However, of course, this meant they would need to gather the family soon. The three of them could stay here, but it would be more convenient to have them close by, all together.
Dolores flicked her hands at her younger brother, as a motion to 'shoo' him away. "Now run along, we'll be needed again soon."
Of course, Camilo wasn't happy about this. Despite being tired and a little grumpy, he was perfectly happy playing – or attempting to play – with Mira. She could hear him grumbling a little as he pouted, "Ugh, why do we have to do all this boring work? I thought parties were supposed to be fun."
She couldn’t argue with that, in a way – and she was glad she was the only one to hear this. They couldn't complain like this in front of Abuela, but at least they could silently share the struggle.
The two younger ones would comply, though. Camilo began skipping away with mock enthusiasm, and Mirabel would follow him. She didn't seem to want to leave her prima's lap at first, holding the skirt of her dress as they both stood, but she eventually complied as well; after a poorly hidden yawn, she began tugging at Dolores' skirt, skipping along with the other child a few feet away. "Come on, Lola."
Dolores giggled a little at the implication of being dragged by the nine-year-old, ultimately moving her feet to match Mirabel’s speed. "I'm going, I'm going-!" It's not like she had much of where else to go, nor did she have plans to take much longer to follow. It brought a warm feeling as she allowed herself to be dragged back to the music, too amused at the moment to care.
The party would be ending soon, but if it could end with a smile on her face, Dolores was prepared to stand right in the middle of it.
-
“Hmph.”
Dolores collapsed face-first onto her bed, instantly easing her aching joints. She didn’t dare to move, only the soft rise and fall of her chest indicating there was still a conscious breath left in her. This had been her only escape all day, and she was not about to let it slip through her fingers; something proven to happen so easily.
If she could allow sleep to overtake her senses, maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t matter that her door still held open, just slightly ajar. Someone passing by in the night could easily just close it, all while she was too caught into blissful slumber to recognize who. Oh, how much she wanted to just… drift off, not move a muscle until the morning light.
Unfortunately, this wouldn't work. While her energy may be nearly nonexistent, her room was her only safe haven for a reason: it kept the noise out. The least she would have to do to get some genuine sleep is shut the door.
Groaning, the girl brought herself to stand, trudging the few steps away from her bed to the door. From where she stood, she could see only an odd family member or two walking around. Most of them were settled or getting ready for bed; good. A house full of tired people meant fewer lingering noises, after all.
Even though she originally wanted to shut the door and crash back onto her bed, she had at least enough energy to change. It would be better this way, after all. No use in sleeping uncomfortably in clothes worn at a party.
She eyed that tedious romance novel on her desk longingly; the longer she went without reading, the longer that ridiculous plot hole in the middle would play out, and she wanted to know how it would conclude! It might be a bit boring at this part, but she needed to know what would happen!
Sleep was much more important, but what would be the harm in staying awake another hour to read through a plot hole?
Okay fine, she would attempt to read it. The keyword is ‘attempt’. She grabbed the book, placing it on her night table so she had space to snuggle into her blankets. Maybe it was the exhaustion, but the weight of her blankets felt perfect and so much more comfortable than she remembered. Her pillows, too, seemed to support her neck and shoulders just the way she needed them to.
Now, finally, she could sleep- read! She meant to read, exactly, that’s what she meant. Suddenly, the book on her night table seemed to be a thing she wanted to put off interacting with until tomorrow. If it was anything like today, though, she wouldn't get a chance to read through that damn plot hole, and she was curious, okay?
Fine, alright, she would read one chapter. A cute little custom bookmark led her to a page of words that all looked so small, so uninteresting compared to the beckoning of sleep – but for some reason, she couldn't look away.
Dolores found herself reading two rather long paragraphs before her consciousness drifted its attention to other sights; more so, other sounds. From here, all it sounded was Casita's old floorboards creaking. That always seemed to escape her room's sound barrier.
Oddly enough, she had to wonder why her room was so quiet today. No extra dulled soundproofing for the outside, no soft sounds of meadows or creeks to calm her. Was she supposed to hear something?
Coming to that conclusion (why else would the house dilute her soundproofing?), she returned the bookmark to its rightful page, placing the book back on her desk. The plot hole would unfortunately have to wait for now.
She sat up on the edge of her bed, trying to listen more carefully to that sound from earlier. It confused her why she would have to; the household may be collectively exhausted, but it wasn't odd for an occasional person to get up and walk around at night.
So it must've been a particular person, maybe where they were going or what they were doing. She wouldn't even be surprised if she was too tired to realize where the sound was coming from, and it was from outside the house. A townsperson.
As she focused on the sound, it began to become more familiar. Yes, this was a sound from inside Casita. From the lower levels, it seemed to be. More focus was needed, but soon, she could pick up individual details.
Soft steps, creaking more than anticipated.
A hobbled step. Two steps.
A hand grazing the wall.
Laboured breathing.
Ruffling, a small squeak- oh, it was definitely Tío Bruno.
Had he… had he not healed? There must've been a reason Casita had her focus on him. Normally, she wouldn't pay any mind to him walking around – maybe this early, while plenty of them were still awake – but if she was hearing him now, what sounded like him struggling, there must have been a reason.
Dolores, for some reason, couldn't bring herself to take the next step toward finding out. If he needed something he couldn't get himself, he would speak to her. He always did, especially when he was sick; not even a mere day ago with a minor cold did he hesitate to ask, with a follow-up this very morning.
He wouldn't be going out alone until this was something he could truly fix on his own… right? Bruno was a grown man, hell, he's already been navigating the house mostly on his own for at least four years. If he didn't need her help, he wouldn't ask for it.
Besides, Dolores was just so tired. If there had been another, more prevalent issue, then maybe she would be able to stay awake for it. Maybe she would be able to ignore how heavy her eyelids felt, how often they threatened to lull her into sleep against her focus and judgment.
This was just not the day to give her a faulty mission to pursue. After giving one last listen to any sounds around the house, the girl eventually gave up, a yawn overtaking her will to stay awake longer. Okay, maybe it was time to turn in, for real this time.
She climbed back into bed, her blanket just as welcoming as before. For a moment, she debated asking the house to return the soundproofing, but it seemed to get the message.
Before sleep was able to take her entire consciousness, a passing thought returned to her wall dwelling Tío. Tomorrow would do good for a checkup, just to double-check she didn't make a mistake with the food she brought him. But again, he would be fine until then. She had no reason to worry… right?
