Like I'm still at that door (Always waiting on a miracle)
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The shine of the magic is bright tonight. Brighter than last night and the night before that and the night before that.
It is gonna get brighter and brighter with every night, Mirabel knows that, remembers that.
It had been the same for her own door back then.
Casita is dark and still. It is the middle of the night and everyone is asleep. As they should be.
It is just Mirabel on this dark landing. Just her, sitting cross legged in front of Antonio's door. She is kneading her night dress with shaking hands, bites her lip and stares and stares and stares at that magical door in front of her. At the magical shine swirling and dancing.
It's not really a door. Not yet. Right now it is just the idea of a door, an area of light and magic and wonder where in a few days a door will be.
Antonio's door.
It had appeared a week before his birthday, just like they always do, just like hers did. A message, a herald (a warning?) of things to come.
Listen now, familia Madrigal. It is time, get ready. Prepare for the miracle.
Mirabel sits before the door and stares and remembers another door. Remembers being small and so excited that she couldn't sleep. She would repeatedly sneak out of her room at night and sit in front of her own door and daydream about her gift. What would it be? How would her room look like?
Sometimes she had been tempted to just reach out and touch that doorknob because she felt like the suspense was going to kill her.
She never did. Small Mirabel hadn't wondered if maybe it wouldn't work before her fifth birthday, if maybe her trying would disrupt something. All she had cared about, was that she wanted her family by her side when she found out about her gift. Her Mama and Papa and Abuela and her siblings and cousins. Finding out alone would be boring. She wanted them all to see!
Now, ten years later, Mirabel rubs a hand over her face. If only she had touched that door alone, at night. It would have been scary to be alone in that moment but at least she wouldn't have had to turn around and see the devastation on her Abuelas face. At least she wouldn't have had nightmares about the deafening gasp that went through the crowd the moment her door was gone.
At least she could have prepared herself for... everything that came after.
Sometimes she wonders why her door appeared at all? Why the miracle had mocked her with this doorway filled with magic for a whole week just to rip it away from her in front of everyone.
Sometimes she is angry. Sometimes she even hates the miracle for hurting her like that.
But mostly she is just sad. Mostly she just regrets waiting for everyone to see her humiliation.
Since the very first night of Antonio's door appearing she has sat in front of it at night and wondered if she should just get Antonio. Should wake him up and have him touch that doorknob, just the two of them around to see what would happen. If it worked, she would be happy with him and take the blame of the family with a stoic smile. If it didn't, at least it would be only her. And she wouldn't look at him with devastation in her eyes and turn away. She wouldn't gasp like something horrible had just happened. She would hug him and tell him that everything was okay.
She would be gentle.
But the thought never went far. Antonio would never go for that, no matter how much he loved her. And just her asking would make the apprehension and fear on his face she had caught glimpses of already just worse.
On top of that she truly believes, no, she knows, with all her heart, that Antonio will get his gift and his room. It is only in the deep and dark of the night that her thoughts wander, that the what-ifs begin to plague her mind, that she sees Abuelas face in the shadows and hears the gasp of the villagers echo through the empty halls.
This is not healthy. Sitting here every night, staring at that door. Mirabel knows that. She knows but she can't seem to stop.
She sits here and stares at the swirling magical doorway and she waits without even knowing what she is waiting for.
But that is not really true, is it? She doesn't want to admit it even to herself but she does know what she is waiting for.
A sign.
A miracle.
She is waiting for another door to appear.
Or maybe she is really just waiting for the magic in front of her to reach out. To her.
Reach out and accept her. Finally.
For this door to become hers.
She has nightmares about that. She dreams about sitting here at night and reaching out for that doorknob and the name on the door changes into hers and the miracle finally blesses her, she finally gets a room. But then she turns around and there is Antonio and he is crying and there is her family and they stare at her with hateful eyes.
"How could you do this to Antonio?" they ask in her nightmares and she pleads with them.
"I didn't mean to!" she wails but they don't believe her, they know that she is rotten on the inside, that the miracle didn't bless her for a reason.
And in the nightmare they turn away from her and she tries to follow but the door slams in her face and locks her in and it is dark and she is cold and so alone. Forever.
Mirabel sobs and buries her head in her hands.
This is not healthy.
She has to stop.
A hand lands on her shoulder and she knows who it is without looking.
Just like every night. Just like ten years ago, when he joined her in front of her own door and fantasized with her about what her power would be until Dolores came out and sent them to bed like the responsible big sister and cousin that she was.
Camilo stands behind her, older now, just like her and less innocent than back then. He doesn't say anything, just squeezes her shoulder and waits for her to stop crying.
When she does he helps her to her feet. They don't talk on these nights, just go back to their rooms in silence, but Mirabel hasn't cried like that before. These past few nights they had just stared at the door in silence together until it was time to go back to sleep.
Camilo looks at her and he looks pained and unsure and not like the Camilo from the daytime. Just like nighttime and daytime Mirabel seem to be two completely different people.
"Mirabel." he whispers and doesn't say more. She knows what he means.
"I know. I won't come back here."
She needs to stop. Before she does something she will regret for the rest of her life.
"Only two more days." he says like it is supposed to comfort her.
Maybe it does.
"Yeah."
They return to their rooms in silence.
Camilo, back to his room full of mirrors, trying not to meet his own eyes in any of them and staring at the ceiling for a long time.
Mirabel, back into the nursery where she joins Antonio in his bed and wraps him in a hug and whispers "I'm sorry" into his ear. Her little cousin only stirrs long enough to wrap his own little arms around her before falling back asleep.
Neither Camilo nor Mirabel noticed the green eyes watching their exchange from behind the big painting.
No one ever does.
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Crossposted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36611650