holdfast hope | {beck/wade}

breathe deep, breathe clear
know that i am here, waiting
stay strong, stay gold
you don't have to fear

There was a hurricane the day Wade was born. Luke made jokes about how anything else just wouldn't have made sense; "Anything less than a category five wouldn't do for you," he mused, "You broke the mold, didn't you?" Wade wasn't allowed to know anything about his real parents, or why he was sent away to the Hailsham Institute, so he sought out his birth date in the library's historical section, and there it was, in one of the old school logs:

"January 3rd,
The worst of the hurricane hit today. The reports were right; it does seem to be a category five. We were wise to cement the playground equipment, because the wind levels certainly would have taken it all and thrown it into the ocean by now. The sea levels are so high that you can see it from the upper-floor windows. We've began blocking them off so that the children don't get any ideas.

The acceptance of the new child has been postponed until the weather subsides-"

And that, that was what interested him most. There were no names listed, of course, but he was the only child in his year who was born on that date. He was born in a hurricane, and his acceptance was delayed. this meant, even for the small length of time it was, Wade was once just a normal boy in a normal family. He wondered how long it lasted, or if they had ever looked at him the way Jane did on the rooftop that night and thought, "damn, maybe we should keep him."

A category five hurricane could cause damage that took months or even years to fix. How long did he live in his mother's arms? How long did his father rock him to sleep while his mother finished up dinner? He thought about them, gave them faces and names and jobs. He imagined his mother as a seamstress, with long, spindly limbs like his own. She probably had soft hands and kind eyes. And his father, a fisherman, with pouty lips and thick eyebrows. He had the kind of laugh that made others want to join in.

But he was born in a hurricane. The loud noises, the thunder, the rain, the worries; it all probably made him cry quite a bit. What if his parents were annoyed by him, the little brat they were supposed to already be done with keeping them up at night?

Category Five causes catastrophic damages.

Anything less wouldn't do for him.

He found Beck just outside the institute after classes let out, leaning against the brick walls in that signature rebel-without-a-cause way that only Beck could pull off. Wade's joints ached, even in the sweltering summer heat, but he tucked his hands into his pockets and mimicked Beck's stance. In his best tough guy voice, he said, "You got the stuff?" before smiling and nudging his peer on the shoulder.

"Seriously, though. I need a cigarette. Rough day."

Luke had gone to change clothes; he'd probably been distracted by Rose humming as she walked down the hallway, or Roan painting a pink and blue tree, or a damn bird feather on the floor for all he knew, but he would eventually come looking for Wade. He told his best friend nearly everything about himself, but asking Beck for smokes would only make Luke wonder why he needed them in the first place, and Wade wasn't willing to risk his friend's life by including him in the hellfire of secrets he was keeping from everyone.

It was just better that way.

Or, if it wasn't, it was at least easier.

sleep sound, sleep tight
here in my mind, waiting
come close my dear
you don't have to fear

song: a heart like yours