In the Beat of a Wing {boyxboy}

Prologue

~Sunday 20th November 1983~

Sometimes, hiding in the darkness is effective. Shrouded away in the shadows, unable to be seen, able to move silently, stalking prey and staying far away from predators. It works. It has to work, of course, why else would we allow the darkness to remain in our world? And yet, one can grow weary of the darkness, can desire the light and the warmth rather than the icy depths they are confined to.

Of course, not everyone accepts this change. Not everyone wants to see the monsters that dwell below step up and walk amongst them. They are afraid. And fear is a terrible thing. It controls one, suffocates them, infecting their minds and turning rational thought to rot. It makes humans act like monsters, and monsters, well... weren't we all taught as children that monsters don't exist?

This desire for light, for recognition, and a place in the world was precisely what led Malcolm Reed to find himself sitting in that stuffy little hallway with the four of his colleagues, and long term friends, that particular evening. 'Stuffy' may not have been an apt, or polite, adjective to use. The hallway was as any other, littered with dull picture frames along the fading walls and wilting plants along the polished floor. Bland and uninspiring.

It was the suit that Malcolm was wearing that was 'stuffy' - more like suffocating - seeming to clutch at his throat and make breathing just a little laborious than he would have liked. Malcolm knew it was all in his head, he knew it was the nerves, the ones that he had spent days trying to push deep down into himself, that were crawling their way out of the box he had locked them in. Locks never lasted, and boxes cracked far too easily.

"I feel like we're sat outside the fucking principal's office," the man just to the left of Malcolm grunted, continuing to scowl down at his hands resting in his lap. Slate Rossman, it was just like him to make some snide little comment, clearly wanting to brighten the mood somewhat. Or maybe just wanting to break the silence that had managed to take hold once again. God knows they were all sick of that.

"I'm sure they won't make us wait much longer," Malcolm assured Slate with one of his famous little smiles, to which he only received a roll of the man's eyes in response. Slate wasn't all that talkative. He was a 'brawn over brains' kind of man, and Malcolm liked that, if the correct type of situation presented itself that was.

"It's a power play, they want to show us they're in control," Reivon contributed from his position on the left of Slate, continuing to throw and catch the little silver coin in his hand, "how they'll learn," Reivon's lips twitched into a wicked little smirk, one that graced his face far too often. Malcolm merely hoped the man would behave, they needed to make a good impression that day. Reivon was pretty damn shitty with any type of impression.

In a split second, Slate reached to his left, catching the coin in midair and slotting it into his breast pocket, not that that stopped Reivon. The two men stared at each other, each holding their ground, their equally dark eyes remaining locked together, waiting for one to make a move. Reivon slowly lifted his hand, holding it out palm up, cocking an eyebrow when Slate remained completely still.

"Good dog," Reivon remarked when Slate finally dropped the coin back into his palm, with a quipped growl from the latter. Malcolm had learnt a very long time ago that Reivon's favourite pastime was, and would likely continue to be for the unforeseeable future, pissing Slate off. The two were equals, of course, Slate enjoyed getting under Reivon's skin just as much, but it was more like sibling rivalry. A few bruises and broken bones along the way were buried under the myriad of good times they spent together.

"Stop shaking," Malcolm said in a lower voice to the man to his right, placing a hand on his knee to still the trembling, "it will be fine," Malcolm met the eyes of his younger brother, seeing the apprehension present and swirling in his bright eyes.