Chapter Text
The ships rocking and angry waves were nothing new to the buccellati ancestry, not unlike this.
Bruno watched his father from the back of the cabin, grunting and twisting the helm with a focus only an experienced fisherman could have. The sky crackling and wind screaming in a loud rage Bruno wasn't used too however. The dark haired man stared at the rain splattered windows in hope they wouldn't break under the beating.
"Shit!" His father cursed, barely heard over the creaking of metal and wood. "The fish traps, they're caught in the lure machine!" Bruno's eyes swept the portbow through the hail, ignoring flashes of lighting. "Take the helm!" His father yelled over the sea, a hand already leaving the wheel. In a false, tense moment of fear disguised as confidence, the boy shook his head. "I'll do it! You're better at steering anyway!" His laugh was shaky, but his father stopped, a mental war obvious in the worried crease of his brows. Thunder mixing with the sea that proded their deck rushed the middle aged man to sigh, worn and rough hands taking control of the boat once more.
"Be careful! Those waves can send a grown man overboard in an instant!" He spoke with a deep grimace in place, much like the expression of a bad memory. There was something else he said, but the boy didn't catch it.
Bruno's smile was naive in the light of their swaying lantern before he hugged his thick raincoat tighter and preyed open the metal door that separated them from the storm.
Immediately he was blasted with ice cold water and a wind so strong it felt like he was being cut straight through his clothes.
His ungloved hands fought to find the railing that lined their boat, legs unsteady and a stifling fear stuck in his throat. His dark hair becoming wind blown and soaked as Bruno afted his way to the bow. The young man gasped sharply as his heavy coat ripped open, buttons falling to the wet floor before being washed away not even seconds later. He struggled all the way to the traps, trembling hands grabbing like a life line onto the metal crates, wires colder than ice.
Bruno ignored how the wind bit at his lungs and face as he hurriedly untied the lure ropes and stuck them back into the large rusted machine. Once all of the crates were strapped back into place, the man wanted to laugh, victory going to his head having overcome such a simple, but hard task. He heard his father cheer and yell for him to hurry back over the intercom.
Sighing in proud disbelief, Bruno reached for the trusting rails, ready to be swallowed up by the warmth he left his father in. His fingertips barely grazed the metallic bars before he was swept off his feet, face hitting the floor hard with a shout as the angry waves clawed at him. He felt panic and adrenaline shoot into his blood, hands blindly grabbing about, hoping for something to save him from his fears. Finally, Bruno latched onto the miracle, steadying as the waves let up just enough for him to catch his breath.
He glanced at what equipment he found and suddenly the anchor became his favorite thing. The young man heard through water logged ears that his father was yelling and Bruno realized the waves took him to the stern. A deep unconscious understanding came to him that mother nature should never be underestimated. He was now full on shaking as the cold snipped at his bones and his teeth clattered hard before a painful pressure was slammed into his side, taking the dark haired man away from the steel savior.
He felt the urge to cry as the salt water began to make him dizzy and unstable.
Something sharp struck his calf and he screamed out on instinct, water taking the chance to suffocate the naive boy for his wrong doings. Bruno gasped for air as the anger subsided just enough so he could grab onto something he wished he didn't recognize. He latched onto the gunwale and he could feel his face heat up and he was sure he was about to start crying but the ocean would not let him win easily as it clashed onto his thin body hard. He scrambled to lift himself off the side of the boat but the darkness of the ocean wouldn't let him, already swallowing him up, hands detaching and before Bruno can figure out if he's still on the boat or not, his back slammed into the hull, a silent, weak plea escapes from his mouth as his lungs become painfully empty.
He barely sees the underside of his father's boat before he blacks out.