Donnie'd nearly fallen over in an attempt to reach for his brother the moment Leo had moved into the building. His knees sink in the half trampled snow, the cold burning in its own way, but it's still weirdly soothing. He'll complain later, maybe.

Each breath is painful to draw in, and it only feels like he coughs twice the amount out. He can barely feel that familiar pulse as Leo teleports back out with Keith, body sagging in relief. Behind them, as if in final farewell, he can hear metal groaning one last time against the strain of the building before more of it collapses inwards, sending a brief flare through the opening they'd vacated. That hurts almost as much as being stuck there in the first place, his precious baby, gone.

Keith's words sound distant, and Donnie's own thoughts are much more sluggish than they'd normally be, so worn out as he is. Maybe if he closes his eyes for a moment he'll feel better.