Flares in the Dark

1.04 | a boy of courage

MASON WAS WATCHING. Liam felt the itch on his skin and he felt the shudder go down his spine and he knew that Mason was watching him. He felt cornered, like a tiny mouse second away from being eaten by a cat.

The worst thing was that he knew the reason why Mason was continuously staring at him. His performance yesterday hadn't been enough, apparently. Even after ripping his ex-best friend's heart and trust to shreds, Mason wasn't convinced. Liam hadn't done enough to prove his loyalty and strength.

Without Mason's approval, the gang's acceptance meant nothing and Liam had no idea how to turn the wheels in his favour.

They all sat on the ground near the monkey bars with Mason occupying his usual mountain. Everyone was talking to one another. Everyone except Liam.

He'd never felt more excluded in his life, leaving the time when he faced the brutal violence of the war at his house. It wasn't that he didn't try making a conscious effort to involve himself, he just felt the differences between him and the gang more starkly now that he had forfeited his conscience and destroyed a friendship.

He shuddered thinking of the bullets he had rained on his ex-best friend yesterday. Would it be a sin to help nurse wounds you had created yourself?

He wanted to go back and apologise to Owen so bad that he had to force his legs to stay down instead of making a run for his friend's house. He wanted to cry and scream at the world and he wanted to plead to Owen for forgiveness on his knees.

He wanted to go back to who he had been during the prewar days. He wanted his parents to be nice again. He wanted so many things, and he would never get them. Not until he took things into his own hands and worked it out himself.

He wanted to leave the gang.

Yet, Mason kept watching. Staring. Observing. Deducing.

In reality, Mason wasn't as great a leader as Liam had thought him to be. He was scrawny compared to people of his age and his height wasn't anything impressive.

Maybe that was the reason he could only assert his superiority over people younger and smaller to him. He kept himself on top of his mountain and ruled over his population of wannabe gangsters without any tact or kindness.

Liam was sure that if something bad happened, Mason would be the first to run away and throw them all into the line of fire. That wasn't good leadership by any means, and Liam wished he could change that. The rest of the gang was just too oblivious to notice how much of a wuss Mason really was.

They idolised him. They worshipped him. They cleaned his feet with their own tongues and sweat. They gave up their favourite belongings just so he would appreciate them more, yet he never did.

The heartbroken necklace was still throbbing on his chest, barely alive but alive enough to give Liam the courage to stand and face Mason. His legs felt heavy and his hearts were racing, both the one confined to his chest and the one that clung to his neck by a string. He felt the stickiness of sweat on his palms.

He would be brave for once. He would not let anyone take advantage of him again.

Mason regarded him with cool eyes as he walked towards the monkey bars. The gang was still immersed in their own gossip and conversations, oblivious to what was to transpire. Liam was still building up the strength to speak. Mason was still watching, amused now, instead of observing.

Just before Liam could speak, Mason stood up on his mountain, like a lion looking at his pride. The words died in Liam's throat as a torrent came out of Mason's, "I have an idea."

Every single head in the park snapped to Mason, ears attentive and faces ready to do anything he ordered. Mason needed no more prompting, he continued, raising his voice and using his words in such a way that every single member felt the rush of the idea, "We'll try something new today."