A History of Violence PV Archer Duncan fin

Date. 14/09/2025 | Dialogue. #1E361C | Tag. @Archer Duncan
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Gabriele hadn’t gotten far when hands seized him by the arms, nails digging in so deep Gabi let out a hiss in response. It could only be one person, a fact that didn’t scare him as much as it perhaps should have. The smug smirk on his face was still intact when the other forced him to turn around to face him, glaring at him with an absolutely livid expression. Gabriele’s smirk slipped, exchanged with a defiant glare. Not even then did he feel true fear, though the look in Archer’s eyes begun to scratch the surface of it. More than anything, Gabi was impressed that Archer was still standing after kicking him in the nuts.

“Let fucking go of me! You need another round?” Gabriele hissed, jerking his whole body back while his hands shoved at the older Slytherins chest. Anyone who had watched the commotion would probably all agree that the menace had it coming from the moment his knee hit target, but that didn’t stop him from glaring dangerously at him in warning. He wouldn’t fucking dare.

Oh, he fucking did.

The two of them crashed onto the floor, Archer somehow managed to overpower him by landing squarely on top. At this point in time, Gabriele was struggling under the older boy’s weight, punching aimlessly at whatever he could reach. Using any measure — elbows, fists, knees— he could think of. Nothing that helped his sutation when a knee suddenly hit him in the stomach. Gabi groaned out in pain when the air was knocked out of him, his whole body curling inward itself. The boy tried to roll to the side to get some relief, but with Archer pinning him in place, he had nowhere to go.

His odds were dropping by the second, but he wouldn’t give the bastard the satisfaction. Seething, Gabriele bit it together, refusing to give up. Not even when his wrists were captured and pushed against the cold marble. Teeth clenched together, he blew hot air out of his nostrils to get some stray curls out of his face. Gabriele met Archer’s eyes again, eyes flashing, the stubborn fighting spirit in him still remained. If he was going to get the shit beaten out of him, he would accept the beating with some of his dignity left.

The first punch was like a cold shower. The sting it left on his cheek didn’t hurt as much as it shook him alert. His head rolled to the opposite side, trying to shield himself off from the next that followed. This time, a whimper escaped him when the second punch landed. Then a third one. Fourth. Hit upon hit came, and somewhere after the sixth one, the punching bag Gabi tuned out. It felt like he was floating somewhere above them, watching down on himself getting beaten bloody by fucking Archer and his noodle arms.

Not until he heard — felt — the sickening crunch somewhere in the middle of his face did he realize he’d been sobbing like a baby. The echo of Papà, an Italian plea that had left him in his lowest moment, lingered in the air like the final punch that broke him. Mentally and physically. For how long, he didn’t fucking know. The only thing he knew right then was that his cheeks were soaked, and his nose was hurting like a motherfucker. Broken, no doubt. Everything came to a halt. Even Archer, the fucking bastard, seemed taken aback by the sound and that he was the sole cause of it. It pulled them back to reality, Gabriele once again feeling his body instead of being a third party watching it all happen from the sidelines.

Archer pushed himself up, dusted off his robes like he was late for a tea party, and hadn’t just beaten the fuck out of Gabi. That's was it felt like, when all he could do was lay there and try not to break down again. So Gabriele stayed on the floor, chest heaving heavily. He tried to follow the other's movements, bracing for whatever would happen next, but the pain in his whole face made his vision blurry. Instead of fighting him again, Archer told him he’d see him in the Hospital Wing. The throbbing in his nose was a physical reminder of that he was right. Voice choking on his own tears, Gabriele still found the audacity and stubborn pride in him to say, “You’re stronger than you look.”