he started watching the fires more closely after the first two. it was just too much to be a coincidence. he was obsessing, really. every little detail he could find — every little snippet of information found in the news — the fires were started by a person, that’s all the police seemed to know. even the cameras around the scene… well, they were worthless. the one camera had only caught a snippet of a person. whomever it was knew where the cameras were located — they were avoiding them. skillfully so. it frustrated him. usually he had no trouble finding those he wanted to find. but that was the problem, wasn’t it? he had no idea who he was looking for. he had hopes, of course. but there was no reason for him to believe that any of his fellow soldiers — his brothers, had survived the culling. his hope was a fragile thing, though. alight in his chest in a way he wishes it wasn’t. it would only crush him.
weeks pass, but wesley doesn’t stop. he follows the fires closely, watching for any signs of a mistake until … finally, he can’t take it anymore. he’s sure he knows who’s next — is almost certain, with the way that calculated way they seemed to happen. and so he takes a risk. this will be as close as he’s gotten to any of them since he escaped. the idea scares him — terrifies him, really. but he has to know. has to be sure. slinking around outside of a mansion that has cameras on almost every square inch of the property is terrifying. he’s sure that he remembers exactly where to step, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t worry.
he finds ash easily, actually. there were only so many blind spots and asher — well, he was nothing if not predictable. they’d been close, too close. trained together, bunked together. the boys had their own rooms at the facility, but they were allowed to move freely between them. towards the end, wes rarely slept in his own bed. it was safer together. or so they’d thought. the relief is squandered by the look on asher’s face — the pure malice as flames lick up his arms. wes wants to touch him — to feel him pressed against hind. to know that he’s real. he’s alive.
suddenly; an alarm sounds inside & wes knows they’ve been spotted. one of the guards must’ve changed their usual route, or something. fear licks up his throat, and his words are near - silent as he sputters out: ❝ fuck — just leave it, we gotta go ! ❞
@racointeur ( asher ! ): let me handle it , just go !
asher’s words are harsh, flames licking up his arms. wes had always believed that his brethren had been a flame, but… of course they weren’t allowed to know what each other’s affinities were. ❝ no . i'm not leaving you again. never again. ❞ wesley means every word. he'd ran, once. been a coward, once. this time ? he'd go down in flames before leaving asher behind again.
❝ if you go down ? we go down together. let me help. ❞
