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“They’re alive.” Ethan exhaled, opening his eyes. Damiano’s vision blurred as tears welled up. He wiped them away, even if more rose from the dirt on his hands stinging his eyes. He looked out at the rubble, and sighed. They were alive. At least for now.
“You’re talking to them? What are they saying?” Damiano asked, holding his breath when Ethan closed his eyes to concentrate. Ethan sighed and shrugged.
“Fuck,” He hissed under his breath, bringing both hands to his face. But it wasn’t enough, so he screamed. “FUCK!” It was all he could do not to just turn the rubble into a pile of pebbles, but he felt the need vibrating in his chest. It would absolutely kill Victoria and Thomas underneath, but the helplessness burned worse than guilt. His head pounded and his eyes burned when he rubbed his fingers against his eyelids again.
“Dammit, Thomas— Tell Thomas he’s an idiot—” Damiano spat. Ethan opened his mouth, but Damiano refused to let him interject. “Running after Vic like—”
“ Damiano—”
“Like he can do fuck all, just making it wor—”
“Damiano!” Ethan never raised his voice. “ Thomas is hurt.”
It hit him heavily, as if words could be solid, as if words could concuss someone.
“What?” Damiano blinked, swallowed a scream that was desperate to come out, letting it rattle in his throat.
“Not badly, it doesn’t seem.” Ethan sighed, closing his eyes again. His brow furrowed. “It’s his leg, I think.”
“You think?” Damiano grabbed Ethan’s shoulder, to shake him, but froze. Ethan’s face didn’t show it, but he was tense. Damiano feel the tension in him, could sense the blood pumping under his skin. “What are they thinking?”
“It doesn’t work like that.” Ethan had said it more than once, never with any impatience, that reading thoughts was rarely like reading words, unless they thought directly to him. “I know what his colors look like when he’s in pain.”
Ethan once tried to explain how it worked, his powers, how he saw thoughts, the way thoughts acted. They were unique to each person, rarely words, not like a diary page or photos in an album. Ethan described Thomas’s thoughts in a way that made Damiano think of a void made of canvas and brick walls, any medium that could make a mark splattered around. Chaotic and vibrant; that suited Thomas.
“What does it look like?” Damiano kept his voice quiet. Ethan didn’t answer. Must be too difficult to explain, or too personal.
“They know I’m with them.” Ethan’s eyelashes fluttered, and Damiano’s chest inflated with relief. “But they’re not saying anything to me yet.”
Damiano bit the inside of his cheek. Maybe they didn’t want Ethan to relay anything because they didn’t trust Damiano right now, since this was all his fault. He was never going to forgive himself if something happened to either of them. And he knew Ethan wouldn’t either, otherwise he wouldn’t have retreated from his mind.
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Victoria could feel the rubble shift on the pile on her shoulders if she didn’t hold steady. She still had a large sheet of it, that held up the rest of the collapsed building that fell on top of them. There was only so long she’d be able to hold it, it took all her strength to avoid being buried and crushed that she couldn’t move. She’d risk it, dropping everything in hopes of climbing out, if she didn’t have Thomas folded up underneath her, a hand instinctively covering his ankle. It wasn’t broken, he had said. But it looked bad. She could see the blood through his fingers. If she let even one more thing hit him, he’d shatter under it.
“Maybe we can ask Ethan to call—”
“Shhh.” Vic hissed. Her body shook with the effort it took to speak while keeping the concrete pieces steady above them. “Not calling anyone.”
Thomas leaned against her leg, and could picture his scowl. His powers weren’t traceable or measurable by traditional means, even if he was technically powered like the rest of them, so he was safer when it came to authorities. The rest of them would be fucked.
She heard him sniff, and noticed how his arm shook, hand resting over his injury. He was also defenseless, curled up under her for safety with a hurt leg. He wouldn’t even be able to walk if they got out of this.
If speaking was any easier, she would apologize to him for getting him into this.
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The building seemed like a safe choice, it was fairly isolated, abandoned, condemned. It wouldn’t matter if they caused any damage to it, and they’d go unnoticed. This was especially important for Damiano, he had limited ways to test or practice his voice, and needed a space that was safe to break. And within minutes of running around and exploring, it was a second home.
Vic and Damiano took the most advantage. Ethan and Thomas mostly watched as they played around. Thomas would crack jokes, cheer them on, or occasionally negating their powers at the last second. He needed to practice, too, he justified as he ducked when Damiano threw a half-empty soda can at him. Ethan casually mentioned that the next time they got thrift shopping, they could buy furniture.
Before arriving, they had gone thrift shopping and bought as many cheap glass things as they could carry, so Damiano could blast through them one by one; a practice of restraint, he’d try not to break anything else nearby.
When he failed, the building shook, to everyone’s adrenaline-fueled delight. They’d deride him, but they kept clear of the collapsed ceiling, where concrete would occasionally fall. Then, Vic had the idea to start trying to catch the larger chunks that fell each time Damiano’s voice struck a wall. She urged Damiano to do it more and more for her to catch.
“If I negate right now, Vic, you’d be—” Thomas clapped his hand down onto his other palm. “Bam! Flattened!”
“I’ll flatten you first, asshole!” Vic shouted back, and pretended like she was going to throw the large slate at him. Thomas got up and playfully postured her for a fight, beckoning her with one hand.
“Come on Damiano, we can take her. Tag team.”
“Yeah, you’re fucked, Vic!” Damiano teased, taking a dramatically deep breath. And then he lost control. The wall came down, the ceiling fell, Victoria screamed and Thomas helplessly ran to her. Damiano narrowly avoided the rubble collapsing himself, stumbling backwards and falling. Ethan was there to help him back onto his feet. But Victoria and Thomas were gone.
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“Vic, you feel Ethan in our heads, right?” Thomas asked, wiping the blood off his palm, from his ankle, onto his pants, and looked up at her. She nodded. A streak of sweat left a clean line against her dirty face.
“Keep that open, okay? The way you let Ethan in.” Thomas told her. “Trust me.”
She nodded again, and the sweat dripped off her jaw and onto his shirt.
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“Something’s happening.” Ethan gasped, eyes opening wide. Damiano got up from the rubble and wiped his face, eyes wildly darting from Ethan to the piles of concrete that swallowed Vic and Thomas.
“What’s happening? Bad? Good?”
“I don’t— good, I think. It’s something with Thomas…” Ethan’s brow furrowed, he closed his eyes to concentrate. According to how Ethan described them before, Victoria’s thoughts were brilliant displays of lights. What did they look like now, in contrast to Thomas’s splatters of pigment?
“It’s—”
The concrete rumbled, shifted, and both of them went silent. The rubble raised more, like something was moving under it.
“Oh fuck!” Damiano slapped Ethan’s shoulder and hollered. “Look! Vic’s doing it! She’s doing it!”
Finally, Vic threw the last of the debris on top of her, when it thinned at the edges of the collapse, and she stood straight. She looked behind her, at Ethan and Damiano, bewildered and breathing heavily. Thomas was still on the ground at her feet, having dragged himself beneath her as she moved. Damiano leaped over the unstable concrete slates towards them, and ran into Vic so hard they both almost toppled over, wrapping his arms around her. Then she held him tight enough to hurt his ribs.
“Thomas! Thomas, how’s your leg?” Damiano crouched down, Ethan was already inspecting his leg.
“I could probably get away with—” Thomas winced and Ethan pulled back a little. “With saying I fell off my skateboard.” Damiano scoffed. Ever needing to mastermind.
“How are you feeling, idiot?”
“Oh… lucky to have survived, I guess. I might need help getting to the car.” Thomas raised a dirty finger to his bottom lip, tracing the curve in thought before looking up. “I’m really sorry, man.”
“What? Fuck off, I should be the one apologizing!” Damiano gave him a small shove. “Fucking hell, I thought I’d killed the both of you—”
“No! No… you didn’t…” Thomas looked down for a moment. “We’re fine. So don’t worry about it anymore.”
“Guys, Thomas saved us. You have no idea.” Vic pushed her bangs back, leaving some strands clinging to her sweaty forehead, other strands sticking out in different directions. “I don’t know what the hell he did but… I don’t know what! I just… I could do it! I was stronger than I’ve ever been!”
Ethan and Damiano looked at each other, then looked down to Thomas, who smiled sheepishly. They both flanked Thomas to help him hop back towards the car while Vic explained the surge in power Thomas had given her. Damiano chuckled, resisting the urge to tease her for her enthusiasm, to bask in the comfort of the blonds being safe now, and the excitement that Thomas evidently had a new sort of power. He looked at Thomas, expecting him to be beaming at the praise, to elaborate on what he had done. But he was quiet, and avoided looking Damiano in the eye.