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Title: Childhood’s End
Writer: Dying in Black
Rated: M/M, language, incest, sex scenes, rape, abuse, drugs, prostitution
Summary:: They never knew a life without pain, they did not understand them, now three brothers and the men that will grow to love them will learn how to finally let go of a childhood that never seems to end.
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1:16 Pm, August 24, 1998
The Detective watched behind the plate glass window at the scene before him. His coppery hair tone color glinted dully under the soft orange glow of light. His brown pressed suit was slightly wrinkled and his slouching posture and eyes showed weary.
He had spent the last twenty-four hours tracking the eldest son Sebastion Donavon, and had at last found him out of pure luck.
His partner had been a serious fan of the musical enigma and composer praised by the New York Times. Sebastion Donavan, The Pianist of the new era; was a complete mystery to all, his past locked in a closet and Howard could understand why now.
The report of sexual abuse had come forth on his desk about three weeks ago. Howard had read the reports and had been sickened. Apparently Gregory Desory had abused his daughter, Marian Desory, for the last several months. Her Physical Ed teacher a little worried about her star runner had questioned why, only to have her ten-year-old student cry and tell her secret. The teacher had then informed the police who had taken the child out of the parent’s custody.
It only resulted to little evidence and the child was returned to her Father and Mother. But the teacher still refused for the act to go unpunished. And now it was up to Howard Spencer to bring Gregory Desory down, only it hadn’t just been Marian who had been involved with her Father’s sick antic’s, in fact there had been three other siblings in the household. A Jude, Adam and Sebastion Desory who had left the household soon after high school.
Howard had met with the teacher Mrs. Patricia Frank, a middle aged woman in the verge of tears. Howard had promised to do the best he could and had ushered her away from his office and had decided to question the oldest Desory child.
Records had indicated that all three of the Desory children had on several occasions visited the hospital, broken arms, legs, twisted elbows, broken noses, lost teeth, swelled eyes, and beatings to their most intimate parts.
Doctors had questioned their bruises, but only been answered with arguments that led to children falling or hitting doors. None of the Desory children spoke during their time in the hospitals despite Doctor’s pleadings.
The neighbors had complained of the constant screams and yelling that came from the old house. Four rooms, one bathroom, a kitchen and a living room filled the home. It’s shades always drawn. Their yard, a dead thing with weeds crawling up the side of their house. The smell of wet dog off in the corner and trash had caused a ruckus in the neighborhood more than once.
But the neighbors when questioned had spoken nothing of the Desory children; almost as though they had no memory of seeing three boys walk past the picket fence of their home arriving from school.
Teachers had only mentioned the sight of two young blondes who kept to themselves and of a silent brunette hanging over their heads as through protecting them like some dark angel from unknown dangers.
And Howard had to agree about the angel part. For Sebastion Donavon, in reality Sebastion Masters Desory did in fact look like a dark angel.
His dark brown shoulder length hair was swept back from his face. His skin glistened white under the falloff orange light creating a hazy halo around his skin. His secretive blue eyes surrounded by black long lashes like fans. A cigarette was held between two perfect pink full lips, the bottom lip just slightly bigger than the top.
Frankie, Howard’s partner, had shown him a picture of the famous pianist and Howard had found him remarkably handsome, but had been awed by his grand beauty in person.
Sebastion wore a simple black turtleneck and black slacks. His slim figure granted the soft curve of his back and the sight of his slender hips and thighs could drive any man or woman mad. His eyes held power, an almost dark brooding depth beneath them, a mean intelligence, yet Howard believed that it was the eyes of a man who had seen too much.
Frankie sat in the interrogating room his blonde hair and face blushed, dark green eyes filled with awe and disbelief at questioning his idol, despite the fact of the importance of the case.
Sebastion sat unmoved, Howarddespite the attraction he held for the man had to mutter a few curse words.
Howard had sat through shuffling papers to locate the three missing Desory’s only to come up empty handed on Sebastion Desory. He had spent his night searching for the man who had turned twenty-two just last January. When he had passed the case onto his partner to further their search Frankie had been astounded at the similarities that Sebastion Donavon and Desory had in common.
Only then did Howard and Frankie put two and two together. The fact that Sebastion Desory had changed his last name came as a concern to Howard. It had taken at least seven more hours of searching and going through agents to finally have Sebastion. And three more to ensure no press would take place at the meeting.
Howard had been astounded that America’s Grand Pianist and composer, compatible muse tothe greatest musical composers of the last hundreds of centurieshad arrived un-chaperoned wearing all black, and simple black-framed glasses, and cigarette in hand. No grand limo, agent or secretary hanging by his heels, no lawyer by his side, just a tall lithe incredibly beautiful man who had strolled into Detective’s head quarters like he had just arrived from home in a taxi and not from some banquet he had just attended.
Despite his unquestioned beauty, Howard found him cold and unmoved unlike his music. Frankie had played one his CD’s and Howard had found the composed music and Piano playing moving and it had tugged at his heart. Women at the station had wept and men had blushed as their hearts had been rammed past their chests. Even their Chief had come from his office and had to excuse himself.
The man though, was like a statue. He sat unmoved watching Frankie making a fool of himself in front of him, and Howard suspected he was used to it.
But unlike Frankie, Howard was not there to praise him; he decided as he opened the door and walked in.
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