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Romano wasn't sure why Antonio was so determined to help him. He wasn't going to be useful, especially not with the arrow through his shoulder.
His allies apparently felt the same, giving them both flabbergasted looks as they trudged on. Romano was honestly shocked that they hadn't simply killed him despite what Antonio wanted. He was even more shocked that they had offered to carry his things. It made him suspicious but allowed them to take his quiver and his backpack. His bow was still in his hand and he couldn't get his hand to let go yet, even when he tried.
Night had set upon them fast and dark, leaving everything as simple shadows. He vaguely wondered how they knew where they were going, but didn't have the energy to ask. His savior was supporting him with an arm around his waist, his uninjured arm thrown over broad shoulders. Antonio's skin was cool against his own, and oddly relaxing.
Soon, the Cornucopia came into view, leading the way like a beacon.
They had apparently left a guard behind, a slim girl with bobbed blonde hair, the other tribute from District 2.
She eyed him wearily but didn't say anything about it, instead launching into a report in an almost militant fashion. "Elizaveta left before sundown and hasn't returned. Neither has Joan."
The albino carrying his quiver-Gilbert?- rolled his eyes.
"Always running off on her own, ke."
"She's been odd. It's worrying." The guard said. "The Games may have driven her to-"
"Bella, we all have people to fight for here, si? She has someone to return home for as well." Antonio said simply. He laid Romano down carefully, watching his face intently for signs of pain.
"I'm going to have to get that arrow out, okay? I'll try and make it quick." He spoke as though talking to a wild animal, trying not to scare him. Romano wondered briefly if he was simply a wounded animal then.
The guard, Bella, knelt next to Antonio, eyes calculating. "You're going to have to cauterize that or it'll get infected."
"Can you start a small enough fire that it won't be noticeable?"
She gave him a sharp look. "Of course I can. Give him something to bite down on, this is going to hurt like hell."
There had been very few cauterizations in the previous years in the games, but the few there were looked painful and terrifying and left gruesome scars. Just the memory of the other tributes faces during the event made Romano tense in fear of what was to come.
"Hey," Antonio whispered, thumb brushing across his cheek, rough with calluses and warm despite the cool night air. "It'll be okay, we'll handle this and then we'll get you some food and water. Does that sound good, querido?" The tender tone in his voice touched something deep within Romano and warmed him from within.
"Just make it fucking fast, asshole."
Antonio searched through the dirt and leaves for a thick stick and wiped most of the nature grime off on his sleeve before giving it to Romano, who clenched it between his teeth, trying to prepare himself for what was to come.
Antonio seemed to have at least some medical training, as he snapped the shaft of the arrow off with very practiced motions, and used to palm of one hand to push the broken end through, pulling with the other hand. The stick in his mouth creaked in protest as his teeth dug in, holding a pained scream in as hard as he could.
Meanwhile, Bella was heating up a knife in the fire, the steel of the blade glowing a hot red.
"Cut his shirt away so I can get to it." She said quietly, and at least she sounded apologetic to some extent.
Soon, the shirt laid around him in tatters where he was resting on his side, hurt shoulder up to air like it had been since Antonio so carefully laid him down.
"It went all the way through, so we'll need to do it to both sides…"
Romano nodded, trying to look calm, though his jaw flexing around his makeshift gag gave him away.
The knife pressed flat against the small hole made by the arrow. He could smell his flesh burning, and the smell made bile rise in his throat. The pain hit in an overbearing wave and forced him to take a deep, sharp breath through his nose.
It felt like death and hell and anguish all rolled into one. By the time Bella pulled the knife away, he was a panting, sweaty mess of pain.
He heard the girl move away to reheat the knife and swallowed thickly. It hurt to even breathe now, and it felt like the knife was still embedded in his shoulder.
"Alright, almost done, we're almost done, shh." Antonio assured, brushing his sweaty mess of hair away, though his stray curl resisted and remained firmly disarrayed. A cool hand braced his forearm, which was his only warning he had before the knife was pressed against his exit wound.
It seemed to hurt more since he was taken by surprise , and he was left writhing for a moment, a scream caught in his throat.
When she finally pulled the knife away, Romano dropped the stick, the corners of his mouth feeling sore as well and teeth aching from the force he had bit down with. He tried to spit the taste from his mouth desperately.
He glanced up and realized everyone was watching him, even as Francis and Bella kicked dirt over the fire to smother it. It made him bristle when they didn't look away. They were probably all marveling at how pathetic he looked, filthy and covered in his own blood. He still had the bow in his hand, unable to even feel his fingers to release it.
"Fucking what?!" He demanded finally, voice rough.
"Nothing, nothing… Um, are you hungry? We have food and drink, you probably need it…" Romano nodded after a moment, and sat up with Antonio's help. Gilbert went to dig through the stacks of provisions in the Cornucopia dutifully.
Every move pulled at his wound, which felt stretched and tender already.
His heart dropped when he realized Feliciano had more likely been watching the whole ordeal, had watched him spasm in pain on the ground like an infant after skinning a knee. Knowing his soft brother, he had probably cried for him, wrapped in Ludwig's arms, safe back in District 12.
Cried for him.
Romano didn't deserve it, didn't deserve whatever prayers Feli was whispering desperately in the language their grandfather taught them long ago, and he knew it. All of his brother's tears and prayers and pleas were wasted on him.
He was a murderer now.
