Febuwhump day 9 –Buried alive
The building creaks behind him, the floor tilting dangerously as the wood foundation falls away. Angelo jumps, throwing his elbows in front of himself to catch the brunt of the glass shards when he shatters the window on impact. It's only the second floor, and he managed to catch himself halfway down to land in a rolling motion. Not perfectly so – his shoulder cracks horribly and pain shoots through his arm – but it's better than landing on his feet and breaking his ankles.
For one fragile second, he lies there, dazed. Then Nero is pulling him up by his elbow, hand trailing his injured arm. "Avilio, what happened?"
Angelo shakes his head, but it feels like something inside his skull came loose with the fall and it hurts too badly to think. He licks his lips to be able to talk through his dry throat. "Explosives, I think? In the basement-"
He is cut off by the sound of the rest of the building collapsing. Black tar-like smoke fills the air and the faint smell of burning is smothered by layers of brick and mortar. The house doesn't have much of a chance to burn. In the distance, the sound of fire sirens can be heard.
"We need to move," Angelo says, stepping back to put a few inches of distance between himself and Nero. "Where's Corteo."
That's when the older man blanches.
It's a sickening sight – maybe because Angelo already knows what he is going to say – and there is tension in his blue eyes. "He followed you inside," is all Nero can offer as explanation.
"Why didn't you stop him?!" Angelo didn't mean for it to sound so accusatory, smothered in decades of pent up anger. But now that the rage has come unbolted it's impossible to stop, to reign back in. Angelo can not allow himself to lose the only family he has left.
"I-" Nero starts, stops. Maybe he realizes there's nothing he could add that would make this better.
Angelo isn't even listening anyway, spinning on his heels, and then he's running back towards the rubble; keeping himself from tripping over loose pieces of brickwork. "Corteo!" Panic seizes his voice, emotion slipping into it he hasn't allowed in ages. "Corteo, answer me!"
And he doesn't want to admit it, but it feels like Luce all over again. The most important thing in his world once again slipping away through his fingertips.
He cracks his nails on the bricks while trying to dig them up, cuts his skin until blood is making his grip slick and all the while he's screaming, straining his lungs for air. "Corteo, goddammit."
The difference is he has nobody else to blame this time. Angelo did this. If it wasn't for him Corteo wouldn't be here – wouldn't be hurt.
It's his fault this is happening.
"Avilio!" Nero is pulling on his arm, trying to get him to stop. Angelo can't feel his fingers anymore, can't see anything through the smoke clouding his vision. He feels like he should be crying, but he hasn't cried in ages. He hasn't cried since his family died.
"I can't-" he forces through his throat, raw from screaming. "I can't lose him too."
Nero stares at him, as if seeing him for the very first time. Then he starts digging too.
The two of them kneeling in the dirt, as the sirens draw closer. Angelo knows they will need to leave. They'll have no choice but to run. So he renews his efforts, doesn't care how broken he will be in the morning if only he can fix this.
Nero gasps and Angelo is by his side in a second. What has been uncovered from the rubble is a single hand, dark skin stained with dust. Angelo uses whatever power remains in his body to pull at the debris and then Corteo is there. Blood streaks his hair, pouring down the side of his face and his eyelids are only half-open. He coughs with the effort to speak.
"A-"
"I'm here," Angelo says, wiping the dirt from his face. "I'm right here."
"We need to hurry," Nero presses, pulling at whatever is left pinning Corteo in place and Angelo helps him in so far as his remaining strength will let him. Finally, they manage to pry off enough to drag Corteo out, both arms slung over each of the other's shoulders. The sirens are mere seconds away now.
They flee into the forest, crunching the undergrowth beneath their shoes and as the sound fades in the distance all Angelo can hear is his own blood rushing in his ears, his heartbeat going haywire.
"You came back," Corteo murmurs against his ear, not a question or a statement filled with wonder. Angelo wished he could stop feeling guilty about ever leaving in the first place.
"I came back," he says. "I came back for you."
They disappear into the night again.
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