He whipped around and saw Salai standing there with his shampoo in boxers. His shampoo had been in the shower stream.

"How are you not wet?"

He smirked. "I have my ways. Why do you not shower at home?"

Desmond scowled. "My family, and I use the term lightly, uses it all before I get home. Altair does it on purpose, and Malik doesn't realize it until I come home."

"Why on purpose?"

"Because Ezio and I prank him all the time. Can I have my shampoo?"

"Let me wash your hair."

"That's just creepy."

He smiled. "I won't give it back otherwise."

Desmond scowled. "I should file for harassment."

"But you won't. Sit down and let me wash your hair."

"Right here."

"Right there."

He did as he was told and watched as Salai moved behind him and knelt, squirting the soap into his hand. He sat at the edge of the water's stream and jumped when he felt Salai touch his head.

"Relax. You are too tense," Salai practically purred in his ear.

He slowly relaxed as he let him work the shampoo into a thick lather. He actually groaned pleasurably—perhaps this is why Altair always showered with the two brothers. He felt his head loll forward and heard Salai chuckle quietly.

"Does this feel good?"

He hummed in response as those hands slid down to his shoulders and began massaging. He groaned again.

"You are too tense, Desmond. Do you never relax?"

"N'er had the chance."

He could hear Salai smirk but didn't particularly care at that moment as he let the beautiful boy give him a shoulder massage. He felt himself going limp the longer it wore on. Eventually, he was almost asleep, those glorious hands working the knots from his neck, when he thought he heard Shaun.

"Desmond? Are you in here?"

He could hear him walking closer through the haze of sleepiness and utter relaxation.

"Bloody—what the Hell—"

"Quiet," Salai commanded. "You'll wake him."

He didn't bother to try and tell him he was awake when those nails—perfect nails—began scratching his back. He hummed appreciatively.

"I—you—what the Hell are you doing to him!"

"Giving him the worship you have so dutifully failed to give him."

He was in Heaven.

"I swear, if you're pulling something—"

"I am simply giving him a back massage. I haven't tried anything, have I?"

Desmond simply sighed contentedly.

"Yes, well, as convincing as that answer is, if you pull any sort of crap…"

"Yes, yes, you'll kill me or cut off a limb or force me to have tea and biscuits with you, blah, blah, blah."

It was several minutes more before he felt Salai pull him back and wash the soap from his hair. Desmond didn't know someone could be this gentle, but he was beginning to realize why Altair enjoyed showering with others if he got this kind of treatment.

"There, all done."

He hummed and leaned back as Salai went to move. He heard the boy chuckle behind him. It was several more minutes before he had any strength to move.

"Th'nk you."

He felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist and a chin on his shoulder. Lips against his ear whispered, "I think we should make this a regular thing."

"No," he muttered. "Then it will lose its… Thing."

Salai laughed. "Then you will let me do it again?"

"If I'm still around." He cursed letting himself get so relaxed

"What do you mean?"

"I can't tell you that."

"You're not going to commit sui—"

"Fuck no."

"Then what are you doing?"

"I can't tell you that."

"You're running away, aren't you?"

He was silent.

"Why—surely you have a good life here?"

"I don't want to be here. "

"Why not?"

"That's my business."

"You can't leave, Desmond."

"Says who? What are you gonna do? Tell someone? All I have to do is go. I'm waiting for a good time."

"What will your brothers think? Lucy? Rebecca? Shaun?"

Desmond rose, knocking Salai over in the process. He rinsed down and turned off the water. "I'm doing them all a favor. Trust me. Shaun wouldn't give a flying shit. The only reason he'd care is because he'd lose his target, and Rebecca wouldn't notice. Lucy is always busy with William, and Ezio will be too busy with his latest conquest to notice. Altair's a fucking sadist. He thought watching me squirm in those pants of yours was hilarious."

"I think you are being over—"

"It also means a chance to start over for me. No more failing grades, a job I can like—I'm going to be a bartender, you know. No more harassment because I'm barely passing any class. I'm not smart; I'm not artistic; I'm not 'strong.' I can't do much, but I'll do what I'm good at: running."

He had dried and dressed, and was shoving everything in his backpack again when he heard Salai rise. "That is ridiculous. You underestimate yourself."

"No, I don't. Give me one thing I'm good at besides running."

"I still don't know you."

"And you never will. I'm leaving, and that's that."

"Why do you doubt you aren't good—"

"Because I'm not. Anyone will attest to that: my teachers, my friends, even Malik and Kadar think I'm not going anywhere, and Kadar is my best friend. Okay? Just leave me alone. I don't want to think about them."

He left Salai his towel as he walked out of the locker room and jogged home. When he finally got home, the sun was setting, and he sat on the steps of the porch, not quite wanting to go in yet. When the door opened, he saw, in his peripheral vision, Altair sit beside him with a plate of food. As the man ate, he was glad his brother didn't talk much. There were no words passed between them for the longest time as he watched the sun go down.

"Has Desmond come home yet?" he heard as the door opened. "Oh! There you are! We were starting to get worried. Your dinner's getting col—"

"I'm not hungry."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive."

"Did you get another test back today? You usually act like this when you get an F."

"No. I'm just not hungry."

"You really ought to eat more. It might help you focus—"

"I do focus, okay!" Desmond exploded, wheeling around as he shot up. "I just suck at school! Is that so hard to believe? You've seen me study for hours and go to tutoring, and it still doesn't work! Just get off my back! I'm not going anywhere in school!"

He pushed past Kadar and jogged up to his room, grabbing his keys and some money he had stashed in one of the few books in his room. He stuffed it in his bag after pulling everything out and zipped it up, shoving past Kadar and Malik as he jogged out of the house.

It wasn't until he had pulled off the cover to the bike and the helmet he saw Altair had followed him. He stiffened as Altair walked in from the picked lock gate and squatted by the bike, examining it.

"Where'd you—"

"Crack addict. One hundred dollars and broken after I finished with that bartending job you hated."

"You were illegal."

"I know. I fixed her up. She runs pretty smoothly now. I don't drive her a lot yet."

"Take her to school. You'd one-up Ezio."

He looked at the bike. "I don't want to risk her."

"License?"

"Yup."

"Insurance?"

"Not really. I'm not on your plan, but I still drive her occasionally."

Altair ran his fingers over his baby a moment longer before rising. "Real or fake?"

"The plates are fake."

"I'll have real ones tomorrow for you."

"In between your classes?"

"Yes. And insurance."

"Are you sure?"

"Bring her home."

Desmond raised an eyebrow but met his gaze when he looked at him. They stood there, gazing at each other for the longest time, Desmond with a disbelieving frown and Altair, passive. Eventually, Altair looked at the bike.

"She's a newer model."

"I know. I put a lot of research into her. I wanted to see how much of a deal I was getting. Newest model for one-hundred bucks, and all she needed was a couple of wires fixed. She's a Suzuki Hayabusa."

Altair ran his hands over the handlebars. "248 miles per hour."

Desmond let his jaw drop. "You know about the Hayabusa?"

"Twelve thousand dollar deal."

"He was higher than a kite."

The black paint seemed to blend in with the night as it fell around them. Desmond shoved his hands in his pockets and gazed at it lovingly as Altair stood with him.

"Show me."

"What?"

"Show me its speed."

"We can't both get on her."

"We can."

He wasn't until he had his helmet on and Altair pressed against his back that he believed him. He turned her on and pulled out, going steadily faster until he hit the highway to get home. He floored it. He leaned forward more, feeling the adrenaline course through his veins as he hit one-fifty. He briefly wondered where the police were, but stopped caring when he hit two-hundred. He was whizzing through a throng of cars at top speeds, and he couldn't care less. Eventually, when he realized he had gone right out of the city, he slowed and stopped in a gas station. He pulled off his helmet, smirking. He was surprised at the almost happy smirk Altair had.

"I like her."

"So do I. I'm surprised we didn't hit the police."

"Even the gods enjoy a bit of fun."

He chuckled once and led it over to fill her up, scowling as the prices rose higher and higher. When it clicked full, he grumbled as he pulled his backpack to fish out his money. He paused when he saw Altair step up and pay for it with a credit card.

"Where'd you get that?"

"Dad."

"Before they left for their business trip?"

Altair nodded and finished paying before climbing back on. Desmond put his helmet on and drove home, stopping in the driveway. He was surprised to see Malik, Kadar, and Ezio waiting on the porch. Ezio's jaw dropped when they stopped in the driveway light and he saw the slick black bike with red detailing. Kadar looked surprised, and Malik scowled.

"Just what was with the fit earlier, Desmond?"

Altair frowned at Malik. "Leave him alone."

"Oh no," Malik began, walking toward them, "I'm not letting him become a reclusive asshole like you. What happened with the fit earlier?"

Desmond looked away, scratching his neck. "I've just been upset lately. It was a onetime thing, okay?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"You don't need to see your school—"

"I'd rather be fucked upside down hanging from a flag pole before I go visit him."

Malik shook his head. "And where did you get the bike?"

"From a druggie two years ago. Fresh off the line for one hundred dollars."

Malik smirked. "Good job."

Altair guided the bike into the garage before shutting it. Malik wrapped an arm around Desmond and guided him past the stunned Ezio and into the house.

"Your food's in your room."

"No more questions?"

"You'll speak when you're ready, whatever your problem is."

He hightailed it upstairs and into his room, where, sure enough, there was a plate of hot lasagna waiting for him. He flopped on the bed, completely ignoring the food, and stared at the ceiling. He closed his eyes and let the feel of the bike rush over him once more, the wind and the speed and how running on foot was just never enough. He'd have to keep the fake plates if he was gonna run.

He actually hesitated for a moment about running before shaking his head and sitting up, going over to the plate and wolfing down the food. He wasn't changing his mind now: he'd put too much into it. They'd be back to their normal selves when he did get his test back tomorrow from history.

And sure enough, when he got his test back the next day, Shaun spent all lunch berating him for the questions he got wrong, and all he could do was eat quickly and wait for the bell to ring. He said nothing to Ezio or Salai when he changed for gym, having gotten back two less than satisfactory grades in math and English. And he was in such a piss poor mood that not even running helped him.

After changing and letting Altair pick him and Ezio up from school, he handed the grades to Malik, who scowled and lectured him on how he needed to pick it up or else he'd get into a college even worse than Altair's—who was salutatorian of his class. He went straight to his room and spent all evening there, gazing out the small window his room had. He didn't listen when Kadar came in and told him that Malik was just worried, and how he was worried, too, and Desmond shrugged him off. Better no bonds than any bonds if he was going to "skip town."

Ten more days until he ran away, he decided.

Saturday was a blur—he vaguely remembered placing first in his meet, but the trophy did nothing other than make his coach happy. At least someone was. Salai was at the meet, and he looked concerned when he met Desmond's gaze. Altair got him the plates, and he hid the fake ones in his room. He got insurance or something close to it.

Nine more days until he ran away.

Sunday was nothing, really. They didn't attend church, so he slept the day away and ignored Kadar's and Ezio's questions about what was wrong.

Eight more days until he ran away.

Monday rolled around, and it wasn't until lunch he actually snapped from the stupor. He felt Salai's hand in his.

"You still don't look good. You've been distracted for a while now."

"No, that blank look is a permanent feature on his face. You'll get used to it eventually."

Desmond scowled and turned to his food: it all tasted like cardboard. It probably was. Salai snarled. "Shut up. You have no idea what he's going through."

"It's not like you do, either," Desmond murmured as he rose, throwing away the majority of his food and leaving.

He missed Shaun's shocked expression, and Salai's upset look. He passed through the day on autopilot, and it wasn't until after he had showered from gym that he walked out of the showers in a towel to get his clothes that he saw Ezio, Shaun, Altair, and Malik all there, looking somewhere between worried and mad. Kadar was off to the side, looking thoroughly upset. Salai was leaning against the lockers, looking rather passive.

"What's this about you running away?" Malik started. "You're an idiot to think you can live by yourself."

He rolled his eyes and walked over to his stuff, but Shaun stepped in front of it.

"Listen to us, you bloody tit. Do you need me to clean your ears for you like your mum?"

"Look, whatever Salai said is false, okay? Just gimme some room, and I'll be fine. I mean, seriously, you're going to trust him? The guy stole my clothes and probably stalks me, and you trust him?"

"Desmond," Kadar started, his voice soft, "when he mentioned it, it all started to make sense."

"What did?" he sighed, folding his arms. "Can I at least have my pants and boxers?"

Altair was the only one who moved, and he tossed him his pants. Desmond sighed and changed in front of them before sitting on the floor, one knee bent and resting on his hands. He waited: there was no way he'd initiate any talking.

"All of it. You've been hinting at running away this entire time, haven't you?" Ezio scowled.

Mimicking a British accent, and failing horribly, he said, "Congratulations, you aren't as dumb as I thought you are. You only had to have someone spell it out for you."

He laughed when Shaun scowled and Ezio crossed his arms.

"I don't appreciate that, thank you. You were bloody awful."

Desmond rolled his eyes and bunched his towel up, using it for a cushion under his head. He looked when his backpack was thrown to him. Altair was standing there, a step in front of the rest, looking at him with an almost caring look.

"When do you plan on leaving?"

"Seven days."

They both waited for the roar to die down. He didn't break Altair's gaze once.

"Keep in contact."

He sat up, watching as Altair put his hands in his pockets. He countered a punch from Malik and sidestepped the swipe from Shaun.

"What the Hell do you think you're saying, you uncaring prat?"

Altair walked over and helped Desmond up after he put on his backpack. "He can do it."

"He's going to walk straight into a gang and get killed, is what he'll do!" Shaun yelled.

Altair shrugged and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Malik clenched his fists.

"You shouldn't be encouraging this, you idiot!"

Altair raised an eyebrow at Malik's words.

"He won't even have a high school education."

Desmond looked at the ground and shuffled his feet. "Not like I have one now," he murmured. He sighed and straightened up. "Look, you guys don't have to worry, okay? I'll be out of your hair: no more worry about my grades, no more finding things to berate me. I'll do what I do best."

"Running," Ezio deadpanned. "You're going to run."

Desmond shrugged. Altair patted his shoulder and started guiding him out, but Shaun, Malik, and Ezio blocked their path.

"You can't run from everything," Ezio said.

"I can run from what I can."

"I still don't get why—"

Altair snarled, and Desmond moved out of his grasp. Shaun and Ezio stepped back. There was only one other time he had gotten this mad.

"As the only legal adult here, I say he can go."

Malik pulled himself up. "You're not the only legal adult—"

"You don't even have your citizenship papers yet, transfer student."

Malik was fuming, and they were standing toe-to-toe.

"He's smart enough he can keep in contact if he wants."

"It's clear he's not going to!"

"Then that's his choice."

"What if he fucks up bad!"

"Then we welcome him back. I should know mistakes, Malik."

"Our duty is to guard—"

"Is to teach him. And mistakes are the best teachers."

"Tell that to the new car your parents had to pay for and all of our medical bills!"

Altair's lips twitched. He was boiling. "Let him make his own mistakes. He will learn more than listening to you," he jabbed his chest, "run your mouth with insults and condescending advice."

"My advice is sound! You would not know wisdom if it hit you in the face! We were in the hospital and rehab for months, Altair!"

"I know that, Malik. I was there with you. There is only so much a man can take before he breaks."

"I have yet to break you, you pigheaded fool!"

"You have already broken Desmond. Just look at him."

Malik's mouth opened, but after a few seconds, he shut it, and his eyes flickered over to him. Desmond was standing there, watching, uninterested in the fight.

"All of you, just look at him."

Desmond had moved to the bench on the far side of the locker room and sat there with his chin in his hand, staring distantly ahead. Somewhere during their argument, he had sat down and started dreaming about where he would run to. He could go to the mountains or the desert. It would be hard to track him in either location. He'd have to re-hide his bike so they couldn't take it away.

"Let him 'fly the coop.' If he needs to return, he needs to return."

Malik frowned, staring at Desmond. Shaun seemed to be studying him closely.

"He, at the very least, needs to graduate high school."

Desmond sighed and hung his head, not hearing what was said as he wished to get out of the locker room. Perhaps he should put his shirt on. Kadar came over, and he looked at the man when he placed a hand on his knee.

"Desmond, are you depressed?"

Desmond scowled. "If I were depressed, I'd be thinking about suicide, not running away."

"It could just be another form—"

"God-fucking-damnit!" Desmond shouted. "I'm not fucking depressed! I want out of this school, out of this house, and out of this life! I fucking hate it here, you always riding my ass about how worried you are, Malik always lecturing me about how I need to get my shit together, Shaun always berating me about stupid I am! I know how stupid I am, all right? I want to get away from you, from Malik, from Shaun, from this life!" He snarled and shoved Kadar out of the way, slugging Malik when he tried to block him. He didn't even have his shoes on.

He started running, a full out sprint, through the hallways and onto the sidewalk in front of the school. He ran the entire way back to his house and grabbed the keys from it, peeling out of the driveway as the others pulled in. He had his helmet on, and he had a full tank. He didn't know where he was going. Eventually, he found himself sitting on a bench in the park the next town over. Not nearly as far as he wanted, but he just needed somewhere to calm before he collected from his bank account and scrammed.

"Oh, my, we meet again."

He looked up to see Salai's father standing there, a warm smile on his face.

"What the Hell do you want?"

The man looked surprised, but smiled and sat next to him. "I always feed the birds here at sunset. That is, if you don't mind me joining you."

"Rather you than your kid."

"Has he been giving you trouble?"

"Shit loads."

He watched the man pull out a small paper bag.

"My apologies."

"It's not your fault."

"What happened?"

He studied the man before him for a little bit, taking in the blonde hair and the freckles on his cheeks. He had beret on and a paint-splattered collared shirt. His blue eyes had wrinkles at the corners of them—signs of a hard life. Before he knew what he was doing, he was spilling everything to this man whose name he didn't even know. But the time he was done, he had told him everything.

The man was silent, and Desmond watched as he reached into the bag and pulled out a small handful of breadcrumbs, scattering them to a small group of pigeons that had gathered. After they were eating the small amount, the man said simply, "There is a lot to learn from a bird."

Desmond was pissed he had just spilled his entire problem to the man, and this was all he had to say. "Really?"

"Yes. For example, did you know that until they hatch, the mother sits on the eggs, yet she does not break them? Do you know how it is achieved?"

Desmond furrowed his brow. "Uh… She doesn't sit fully on them?"

"No, here, let me show you. Stay here."

He watched the man rise and walk over to a statue with a bird's nest, picking out an egg. He brought it over and placed it in his hand so the pointier end was sticking between his middle and ring finger. He looked at the man as he stood behind him.

"Now, gradually apply pressure."

"I'm gonna break it!"

"Gradually apply pressure."

Desmond looked at the egg and started to do what he was told. He frowned as he kept applying more pressure, waiting to see it crack. Finally, the man stopped him and took the egg from his hand, returning it to the nest and coming to sit by him again.

"The mother sits on the eggs like that. You cannot break an egg like that easily."

Desmond hunched forward, watching as he scattered more crumbs.

"The mother knows this. She also knows how to take care of her babies."

Desmond raised an eyebrow as the man held some crumbs in his hand. The birds fluttered to him. There were cardinals and sparrows on his arm and fingers, eating from the palm.

"However, even parents make mistakes. Sometimes, they push their babies out of the nest too early, and they fall and die."

He was transfixed by the birds in his hand.

"Most, nevertheless, go on to become full fledgings. They know when their babies are ready to leave the coop."

"Humans are different from animals, though."

"Yes and no, Desmond." He met the man's gaze. "It's quite clear your brother—Altair, was it?—has faith you will learn, no matter what you do. He was the one who raised you, correct?"

"Yeah. My mom and dad are always away."

"See? He knows you. He trusts that you are ready to fly away if you like. That doesn't mean he won't miss you, though."

"I don't see how any of them will miss me. I'm just a hindrance, really."

The man chuckled. "Birds often keep their fledgings for a time after they learn to fly. Consider yourself at this stage now. I believe that Altair knows this, and he knows that you have to taste freedom. You have to taste flight. Perhaps you will succeed, and you won't return." Desmond watched as he placed a handful of crumbs in his hands. "I would stay a while longer. Perhaps you can arrange for travel during vacation by yourself. It's clear you can manage; although, it sounds like you haven't bonded with him enough. Try reaching out to him and see what results are yielded. As for your problem with Shaun, that is simple enough: find a new friend."

He tensed when a young chickadee landed on his thumb, chirped a few notes, and pecked at the bread in his palm. He saw Salai's dad smiled.

"You will learn to fly eventually. You are still a fledging, though. I would trust Altair—he sounds wise."

"He crashed his car several years ago and injured his two best friends and himself severely. They just recently stopped physical therapy."

The man flinched. "Yes, such wisdom comes only from mistakes."

Desmond watched the bird eat from his hand. The man threw more crumbs out to the small flock at their feet. He churned through what the man had said.

"And as for Malik and Kadar, it's clear they want you to succeed. Perhaps you should be evaluated. If there is truly nothing wrong, I live here, and I would be more than happy to work closely with you and let you stay the weekend for help, since you have helped Salai."

"You live here, but you drive him to school every morning?"

The man smiled. "Yes, I do. I graduated there."

Desmond hummed, watching the little bird eat from his hand. For the briefest moment, he wanted to crush the bird. He was so much bigger. They sat in silence, feeding the birds, and he thought about what the man had said. After the bird had finished eating, it sang him a song and flew away. When the moon had just fully appeared, he heard soft footsteps approaching them, and he looked to see Altair.

"I figured you might be here."

"How?"

"I run here often when Malik is mad at me, but I figured you should cool down first."

He scooted closer to Salai's father to let Altair sit beside him. They sat a while longer in the cool night air, Desmond leaning back against the bench and Altair hunched forward. After another hour or so, the man rose, yawning.

"I must get back home; I'm afraid. I hope my advice came in handy, and you will take me up on my offer if you need it. You can get my number from Salai."

"Thanks, sir," Desmond said.

"My name is Leonardo. I will talk to you later. It was a pleasure meeting you, Altair."

He nodded, and Desmond watched him walk off. Altair said nothing, just sat with him until it was midnight. Finally, he rose, stretched, and looked at Desmond, who was resting his arms on the back of the bench.

"Are you leaving?"

Desmond stared him in the eye, thinking carefully. He bit his lower lip and chewed it as he weighed his options with what Leonardo had said. He sighed and shook his head. "No, I don't think so."

He took Altair's offered hand and couldn't help but smile at the arm that went around his shoulders and the smirk that graced his oldest brother's lips. They walked back to the motorcycle.

"How did you get here?"

"Walking."

Desmond nodded. "Wanna ride with me?"

Altair smirked and got on as Desmond started her up. They flew down the streets on the Hayabusa, and he felt the wind whistle around him. The starry night seemed to twinkle brightly as they rode back, and when he pulled in, he stepped out of the garage to stare at the sky. Altair stepped beside him and looked at the stars a while before turning to him.

"There is a conference in the capital this weekend. We can book a room."

"No—"

"And while Malik thinks we're at the conference, we can tour the city."

Desmond whipped his head around to look at his older brother, who had a smirk on his face. Desmond grinned. "Yeah, let's do that."

Altair nodded once, and they were quiet for a while longer.

"Our crash wasn't because we were drunken seniors."

"Huh?"

"It was because we wanted to run away."

He looked at his oldest brother, who tilted his head slightly to look at him. When the door opened, he glanced to see Salai running out.

"You didn't run!" he exclaimed, halting in front of him.

Desmond shrugged. "I met someone who talked some sense into me."

Salai laughed and hugged him. Compulsively, he returned the hug. When he pulled back, Salai stood on his tiptoes and grabbed his head, kissing him. Desmond chuckled into the kiss, but returned it.

He saw Altair pad up to the door and stop Malik from exiting. Placing a hand on his arm to stop him, Altair leaned in and kissed him gently.

"He's not going anywhere, Malik. Relax."