Work Text:
Desmond's muscles burn as he pulls himself to the roof of the complex. He already knows what his dad would say if he could see him — "You've been slacking on your training if you think that's hard!"
Desmond grits his teeth.
Bracing his feet on the side of the wall, he's able to get that last bit of leverage he needs to clamber up onto the roof.
He crouches, panting, staring at the roof's simple wood.
He hates to admit it, but he gets why some of the other kids practice so hard. The adrenaline, the feeling of working hard and succeeding, it all makes for a dizzying rush of satisfaction.
Desmond pushes himself up. The full moon is bright in the sky above.
It's the closest he's ever been to the stars. He can trace the constellations his mom told him about with his hands.
He's been staring for too long. Any time now, someone might check his bed and realize he's not there.
Desmond crawls to the front of the roof. It's so dark he can't see the ground below.
He blinks and focuses, with that dizzy place behind his eyes.
He can feel the crisp autumn air more clearly on his skin. Every tiny divot on the wood beneath him is stark against his hands.
The forest is clear to him now. The rarely-traversed road running next to the farm. The trees, pale green and gold, their leaves just beginning to fall.
There are people patrolling the perimeter.
He can hear their footfalls and see them faintly, their forms indistinct and unrecognizable.
All he has to do now is memorize their paths.
Soon, he'll be gone.