Ch.39: Irony

"I don't want to fight you either," Valentino said, stepping away from Nicholas. He stumbled, his knees barely holding him upright. His hand quivered against the grotesque gash cutting deep along his stomach. Every breath he took was arduous. "So…" He held onto the nearest tree trunk. "So let's go separate ways."

Nicholas shook his head. He stepped towards Valentino and grabbed him. "No."

Valentino wrenched his arm free, and in his effort, he jerked back and his shoulder collided with the tree. He squeezed his eyes shut, torn between the pain in his stab wound and the one in his shoulder now. Still, he scrambled away, his fingers scraping across the tree bark that he used for support.

"You go get the cops. I," Valentino breathed, doubling over for a second as he strained to recover, "I don't care. Let me go find Milo and Albert and you'll never see our faces again. Promise."

"But that's the problem," Nicholas said as he grasped Valentino's arm again and dragged him over. "I don't want you to run away with them. I want to turn you in."

Valentino struggled and thrashed and fought as Nicholas towed him behind. "No." He shook his head. "No, no, no. You can't do that."

"I will."

Valentino pressed his spine to the tree, and then, using it as a backboard, he kicked Nicholas's stomach. In that millisecond that Nicholas caught sight of Valentino lashing his leg, he had thought: really? That's pathetic.

But then the blow landed. On his stomach. On a fresh, raw burn wound that Nicholas himself had nearly forgotten about.

The burning pain that flared across the area blindsided him, and he scowled and grunted as he pressed an arm to his abdomen. The skin throbbed, aflame. Valentino scurried away. Nicholas huffed, chasing right after him.

"Stop wasting your energy, idiot," Nicholas said as he caught up. He seized Valentino's arm and locked it behind his back. Then he pressed downwards, forcing Valentino to his knees. Valentino squirmed. His breath grew heavier, the pain nipping at his soul.

"Let me go!"

"No."

Nicholas took Valentino's other wrist, locking both behind his back, keeping them in place with one hand.

Valentino wouldn't stop struggling. "That's—" He winced. "That's not fair."

"I know. Who cares about fair? Not everything is fair. Deal with it," Nicholas said, slipping the belt of Valentino's coat out of its loops. He wrapped it around his wrists and tied it. "I wouldn't have to do this if you just stopped trying to run away."

Valentino glanced over his shoulder at Nicholas, his brows furrowed, his eyes drowning in grudge and anger.

"I'm sorry. Is that what you want to hear?" Valentino asked, and every muscle, every fibre, in Nicholas's body froze. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I tried to throw you down the fence." His tense expression loosened, his shoulders slouching. "I'm sorry for everything I did to you. Just… Don't do this to me, Nicholas. Don't take Milo and Albert away from me."

Nicholas stared at the back of Valentino's head, his eyes wide. Shock stole the breath from his lungs, but not because of Valentino's apology. It was the implication of his apology that cast a trembling type of dread in Nicholas's chest. It was what he meant by it, what he wanted to get from it.

"You…" Nicholas's voice was flat and monotonous, still in disbelief. "You think if you just apologize, I'll let you go? You think I'm doing this just because I hate you?" Slowly, the shock melted, and a frown slanted his brows. "You think I'm trying to punish you for what you did to me? I'm doing all of this just to take you away from Milo and Albert 'cause I'm sick like that?"

When Valentino didn't object, when he let the silence envelop them, Nicholas turned him around.

"Answer me. Is that what you think? I wanna turn you in just to get back at you?"

"I don't know," Valentino said. "I don't know. I don't know what to think. I just want you to let me go."

"It's no!" Nicholas said. "No! I wanna turn you in 'cause that's the best for everyone, dumbass! For you and Milo and Albert! What the hell are you gonna do if I let you go find them? Bleed out at some point and die in front of them? Is that your plan?"

Unshakable delusion glazed Valentino's eyes. "Albert can stitch the wound. It'll be fine."

Oh my God.

No use. Talking to Valentino was no use. There was only one pathway in his brain. Only one thought process, and it overrode every sense of rationality. So, breathing out to calm himself, Nicholas stood up.

He was about to grab Valentino by his nape to make it easier to force him around, but he remembered his reaction the last time someone did that, and decided against it. So he just clutched his arm and dragged him behind as he headed downhill towards the town lights he'd seen. He kept the gun ready in his other hand, hoping he wouldn't have to use it.

The wind howled. It consumed the sound of Nicholas and Valentino's footsteps. Silhouettes of houses and yellow windows peeked in between the trees in the far distance. Nicholas hurried towards it.

Close, so close. He was so close to ending this whole mess. So close to going back home to his routine.

Valentino was still fighting, but after a while, he tired himself out. His attempts waned. He started leaning against Nicholas without meaning to. Then he'd try to push himself off, only to fail and bump against him instead.

As Nicholas picked his way eastwards,  he thought: woah, it's surprisingly peaceful. We haven't run into trouble. We might make it.

But then, naturally, he jinxed himself. Shadows swayed to their left.

Nicholas's heart dropped. He backed up against the nearest tree. Footfalls and rustling bushes sounded, growing nearer and nearer.

"Nicholas? Valentino?"

Albert's voice.

It dislodged the weight settled in Nicholas's chest, and all of a sudden the world was a little lighter. A little less dreadful. Nicholas peeked out from behind the tree; Albert and Milo were standing there, hesitant and afraid, before finally moving closer.

Valentino couldn't even perk up properly anymore at this point. "Albert, Milo," he said, glancing at them as they approached. Even his voice was low and weak, like he didn't have enough energy to sound excited or relieved.

Albert and Milo joined Nicholas and Valentino behind the tree. They were uninjured, not a line of blood on their faces or clothes. Their eyes glowed with relief, but after a few seconds, the happiness dropped. Every last ounce of it vanished.

Their faces blanched.

"Valentino," Albert said, jerking forward towards Valentino, tentatively touching the area around the stab wound. "How- Who did that?" He looked up at Valentino's pale face, the death in his eyes. Then he gazed at the way his arms were tied behind his back, and he hurried to untie him. Milo joined. "Who tied you?"

"Julian stabbed him," Nicholas said. "I tied him."

Milo looked at Nicholas with an unfamiliar sense of hostility. Brown eyes usually warm and welcoming, this time narrowed and full of hatred. A shudder skittered down Nicholas's spine. He'd seen Milo angry before, but never with him. Why was he even mad at him? This was for Valentino's own good.

"He kept trying to run away," Nicholas said. "I had to."

When Valentino's hands were free, he held onto Albert's clothes, barely able to stand upright.

"Albert, Nicholas listens to you," Valentino said, his voice shaky and breathy. "Please. Tell him to let us go. We… We have to go. I…" He paused to inhale, but it was too shallow, and more air left his lungs than it entered as he exhaled. "Let's go somewhere far and safe. You and me and Milo. Tell Nicholas to leave us alone."

Albert only stared at Valentino hanging onto him, his brows furrowed with concern, conflict storming in his hazel eyes. He cut his gaze to Nicholas, then back to Valentino, indecisive.

"Albert, do it," Milo said, urgently tapping Albert's arm. "Tell Nicholas to leave us alone. Let's go. Please."

"Where to, Milo?" Nicholas asked. "Valentino's gonna bleed out and die. He needs a doctor, and that means he'll also get caught. There's no way around it."

"There is!" Milo said. "You can help Valentino, can't you, Albert?"

"Albert, I have a plan. Trust me," Valentino continued. He stepped away, tugging at Albert's clothes, trying to make him follow. Albert didn't move. "I-I can fix this. We won't go to prison." Turning around again, he gazed at Albert's glistening eyes. "Please. Come with me. Milo, you too."

"You're bleeding," Albert said. "I trust you, but you're bleeding. Nicholas is right. You need a doctor."

Valentino glanced down at the wound, then shook his head. He chuckled. "It's fine! I'm fine! Don't worry about it."

Valentino's knees gave out under him. Albert caught his elbows and carefully eased him down, his jaw clenched like he was trying to suppress his emotions. Valentino's fingers clenched Albert's clothes tighter. His chest heaved as he leaned his forehead against Albert's chest, closing his eyes.

"I… Uh, give me… give me a second," Valentino murmured. Then he lifted his head to look at Albert with a smile. "Like I said, I-I'm fine." He tried to stand again, but his legs wouldn't hold him, and he plopped back down. "We need to go… Somewhere… Somewhere far… and safe. Please… I can't live without…"

Valentino's voice grew quieter and quieter. He blinked a few slow times. "I don't want to live… if…" He frowned, like he was angry with himself for the weakness, for the inability to form full sentences anymore. "Come with me, Albert, Milo… I can… fix this…"

He took one last quivering breath before closing his eyes, his fingers slipping off Albert's clothes. His arm fell limp by his side, and he slumped against Albert.

"Valentino?" Panic echoed in Milo's voice. He looked at Valentino, then at Albert. "Albert—"

"He passed out," Albert said. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes fixed to Valentino's sleeping face. He kept one arm around Valentino's shoulders and slipped the other under his knees. Then he stood up, lifting Valentino along.

"Let's go, quick," Milo said. "Let's take him and hide somewhere."

Albert ignored Milo, moving his resigned, lifeless gaze over to Nicholas.

Nicholas maintained eye-contact, preparing the gun. "What are you gonna do?"

Albert glanced at Valentino in his arms. "He wants to go somewhere far and safe," he said. "So I'll take him somewhere far and safe."

This could mean two things. Two decisions, one of which Albert should've made long ago. Nicholas wasn't sure which he would choose now.

Thankfully Albert's decision didn't matter, because Nicholas wasn't going to give him a choice. He had already picked the way he wanted this situation to end.

And he was going to force it to end that way.

Sighing, Nicholas raised his gun and pointed it at Albert's leg.

"I ran out of rubber bullets," Nicholas said. "Don't make me do this, Albert. But if you try to take Valentino and run, I'm going to shoot you."

• • •

can you tell why the chapter is named "irony"? I can't tell if it's obvious or not lmao.

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