Chapter Text
-Ember’s POV-
My eyes flutter open, and I’m greeted by my second favorite thing to see in the morning; the sun rising over the ocean. My bedroom has the best view of it. I don’t usually have enough time in the morning to watch the sunrise, but when I do, it’s magical to behold.
Fire and water combine to create something breathtaking.
Speaking of which, I roll over to look at my favorite morning sight; my husband.
Or at least, I try to. I quickly realize that I can’t move.
I turn my head as far back as I can and find the answer to my question; Wade is still fast asleep, but he’s holding me tight.
I smile. Eighteen years, and I still wake up in his embrace every morning.
I glance at the clock on my nightstand; 6:25 am. Waking up five minutes before your alarm clock goes off is typically the ultimate first-world problem, but with how hectic our schedules can get, it’ll be nice to just let Wade hold me while I take in the morning.
Resigning myself to my horrible fate of having to wait five minutes before I can kiss my husband, I settle back into bed. As gently as possible, I drape my arm over the one covering my bare waist, lacing my fingers with his. I’m a little startled as I feel Wade suddenly pull me closer so I’m completely pressed against him. I wait for him to say “good morning” or kiss my head, but when he does nothing, I realize he’s still asleep. I press the back of my head into his chest, letting his gentle, cool feeling envelop me. You wouldn’t think fire would love the slightly chilled feeling of water, but for 18 years, I’ve loved it with all my heart.
That’s not to say those years have been pure bliss. There have definitely been hardships. For starters, just because I chose Wade over my parents didn’t mean I stopped missing them. Even as I recall things now, I still can’t help but feel a twinge of pain. However, the first days after my fallout with them were the hardest.
Of course, there was plenty to distract me once Wade and I told his mom I wanted to apply for the internship her friend was offering. I ended up getting accepted and shipped to the other side of the country in less than two months. I barely had time to comprehend it.
Within those two months though, I did have to occasionally be alone to cry – an activity that sadly became less and less foreign to me. For the first few weeks, I never set foot outside Wade’s or his family’s apartments. Though I knew the chances were slim, I found myself wishing my mom and dad would spontaneously appear at the door, begging me to come home and work things out, but they never did. At times, I even sketched some of my best memories with them since I didn’t have any of our old pictures. I admit I’ve kept some of those drawings to this day.
There were moments of weakness where I wanted to run back to the shop and beg my parents for forgiveness, but I always managed to remind myself that that could mean losing Wade or an even bigger fight when I inevitably refused to give him up. This quickly drove the weakness away.
Sometimes, my anger would get the better of me, too. I would find myself going into mental wars with my own mind, both having no sense of direction.
If they can’t even bother to check on me, what do I need them for?
You’ve got nobody to blame but yourself, Ember! If you had just learned to control your stupid temper, this never would have happened!
Your dad used slurs against your boyfriend! He hit you! And your mom ratted you out! Why the heck are you missing them?!
But through all of the turmoil, Wade was my rock. Every sadness or anger spell ended with me in his arms. He had been my shoulder to cry on, had let me rant whenever I needed to, and did everything he could to comfort me. He always knew what to say to make me feel better. He would rock me to sleep every night regardless of my mood that day. When I finally decided to step outside again, he continued showing me around Element City (as much as he could before we left, that is) the same way he had when we were still sneaking around together. He knew how to make me smile, how to make me laugh, how to hold me, kiss me, make my heart melt with love for him. The one thing he never did was ask me if I’d changed my mind about being with him, even though I could sometimes see the question in his eyes. He respected my decision, and it further cemented said decision in my mind.
Wade’s family definitely helped, too. The first time I met them, they had treated me like one of their own, and I’m grateful to say that never changed. If Wade wasn’t around to talk to (which was extremely rare, but he did still have a job), they were there for me. The two of us had dinner with them almost every night until we left the city. Brooke was practically a chef, cooking all sorts of delicious meals (and making sure they were ones I could eat). She tried to make some traditional fire foods as well, but after a few failed attempts, I found myself regularly teaching her what I knew in the kitchen (and also making sure they were cool enough for the Ripple family to eat). Cooking was pretty therapeutic, and so was having Brooke to talk to while we worked. Like her son, she always knew what to say and was the second-best at giving hugs (Wade would always be the first).
As the internship came closer, I began to concentrate more on glassmaking, which I found even more therapeutic than cooking. The entire Ripple family was keen to give input on my designs, especially Harold, Lake, and Ghibli. Harold became something of a cross between a mentor, an editor, and an advisor, offering me tips and lessons on how to better my work. I often teamed up with Lake and Ghibli to bounce artistic ideas off each other. Sometimes, I would make little glass models to help the two of them – and Brooke, on occasion – bring their ideas in architecture to life. The three of us became fast friends.
I even found myself spending time with Marco and Polo. They were fascinated with my work in glass, always providing an audience whenever I made a new creation. They would often ask me to make glass creations for them. I gladly welcomed the chance to practice even more (though I had to pull the plug when they asked me to make a life-sized statue of Gyrados from Pokélement). Eventually, they started inviting me to play video games or pretend with them. Wade often joined in, making my heart throb when I saw how good he was with kids. I still remember the day Marco and Polo asked me if they could call me Aunt Ember. I think that was when I realized I had truly become part of the Ripple family. For the first time since the night Wade told me he loved me, my tears were joyful ones.
The entire Ripple family was there to wish Wade and me off the day we left for the internship in Laguna Beach. Part of me felt guilty taking Wade away from them when they had given me so much, but they were nothing but supportive, and Wade had made it clear he was coming with me no matter what. The sendoff was full of tears, smiles, and thank yous.
The voyage took a day and a half, my stomach doing flips the entire time. However, Wade and I hadn’t been in our temporary home for more than five minutes when it magically hit me; I had him all to myself and the world at my fingertips. It was like a switch flipped in my mind, and I began putting everything I could into both my work and our relationship. I began researching places to take him in the area the same way he had done for me back in Element City. I explored the creative side of my mind to the point where our apartment was covered in drawings. Every second was filled with glassmaking or treasuring my boyfriend, and I absolutely loved it. We fell more in love with each other and Laguna Beach by the day.
We hadn’t even been together for a year when Wade proposed to me. I typically try to restrain myself a bit whenever I get excited, but I can still remember jumping into his arms, screaming, “yes!”
I’d had only one request for him – I wanted to make his wedding ring myself. He was all for the idea. Two weeks later, I presented him with it. The outer band was slightly clouded, blue-colored glass – meant to represent both water and steam – and in the middle was a ring of orange sunstones. Needless to say, Wade cried when he saw it.
I never told him I had secretly crafted the ring so I could propose to him. I had put hours of work into making the ring perfect, but he beat me to the punch by one week. After making my request, I’d held onto his ring for a bit before I gave it to him to make him think I hadn’t made it until after he proposed. I doubt I’ll ever tell him the truth, though. I’m happy with how things worked out.
I glance down at his hand again and smile when I see his ring gleaming back at me. Definitely my best work, right there.
Well, it’s actually my second-best creation, but Wade put in just as much work as I did on that one. My eyes venture over to the picture frame that’s been on my nightstand for the past 16 years. In it, Wade and I are standing by a stroller – I’m holding on to the handles so it doesn’t roll away, and Wade is crouching down beside it. It’s a miracle we managed to take a photo where we didn’t wash each other out like we did that time in the photo booth. Neither of us is looking at the camera or each other in it. We’re instead gushing over the stroller’s occupant.
As I was growing up, I was heartbroken to think my dreams of seeing a Vivisteria flower were impossible to reach, only to have Wade come along and prove me wrong. As time went on, we both began to have another dream, another one I thought was impossible. Yet again, I was proven wrong. Less than four months into our marriage, we found out that dream was going to come true.
That dream was captured in the 16-year-old picture – what I had considered another Vivisteria that couldn’t be reached. Sitting in the stroller that my husband and I couldn’t take our eyes off of was our beautiful daughter, Vivisteria Ripple.
The little steam element was practically a work of art. Though she could easily be mistaken for an air element, she had a couple of key differences. Where her steam ended (her hands, feet, and head) came more to a point rather than a puff. Her hair moved in a similar way to mine, in a few separate, wavy tendrils. Honestly, minus the element difference, she took after me quite a bit in appearance, except for her eyes, which were an exact replica of her father’s gorgeous blue ones.
My flashbacks are interrupted by an incessant beeping; my alarm clock. I feel Wade start to shift before his arm leaves my side to turn it off. I keep my eyes shut like I’m still asleep, determined to stay next to him for as long as possible.
In less than ten seconds, the annoying beeps have stopped and Wade’s curled up around me again. He doesn’t lie down completely, though; he’s propped up a bit, and I can feel him looking down at me. Still, I’m going to milk this as much as I can.
In the past eighteen years, I’ve learned how to sense his gaze even when I can’t see it. It’s like that feeling you get when you know you’re being watched, but instead of feeling chills down my spine, I feel my knees going weak, even when I’m lying down. I feel it now, and I have to resist the urge to smile.
That resistance starts to reach its limit when I feel him begin to trace my face with his fingers. The gentle coolness on my literally burning head is what I assume a swimming pool feels like on a hot summer day; an oasis. Then I feel a gentle kiss on my temple. My heart begins to pound. You can do this, Ember, don’t let him know—
“I know you’re awake.”
I giggle. So much for that.
He hugs my waist as he kisses me again, this time on my neck. I let out a deep, happy sigh.
“Hey, turn over. Let me see your beautiful face,” he says, running a finger across my cheek again. I haven’t opened my eyes yet, but I can feel him smiling at me.
“Well, I’d love to, but I can’t really move,” I tease.
There’s a brief moment of silence. “Oh, sorry…” he sheepishly replies, slowly releasing me from his grip.
I laugh as I roll over to face him, finally opening my eyes. “Never apologize for holding me.”
Wade beams as he gently takes my hand. For a moment we just stare at each other. I can feel my fire going a bit white at the love in his eyes. He still looks at me the same way he did the night we first touched. My lips can still feel our first kiss.
And just like that night, he whispers, “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I reply, continuing the memory.
I feel a bit sick to my stomach as another piece of the memory slithers into my brain.
You will not take over the shop! You are bad—
I shove my lips onto Wade’s to stop the flashback. For a second, I worry he’ll figure out why I did so, but I feel his arms lock me in a loving embrace once again as he quickly gets lost in the moment. I kiss him harder to block out the old, familiar voice, but it doesn’t take long before the memories subside, and I’m lost in the moment, too. One of his hands ventures up to my head, threading its fingers through my flame. His tongue wrestles with mine as he tastes me in a way that he knows drives me crazy. I moan in pleasure and absolute bliss, which seems to excite him as he tightens his grip on me, tipping my head back to kiss me deeper. Eventually, I find myself on top of him; I just can’t get enough. My hands start off on his shoulders before they slowly begin inching down his body. It seems they’ve decided on their own they want to reenact last night. Flame, last night was amazing…
Before my hands can reach their destination, I feel Wade gently grip my wrists.
“We need to get ready for work,” he says with a chuckle.
I growl in frustration, but I know he’s right. “Would it kill you to not be responsible?” I ask as I reluctantly roll off of him.
“Sure,” he replies sarcastically. “My clients can counsel themselves for once.”
I laugh. During my time as an intern, Wade took the opportunity to really think about what he wanted to do with his life. I was constantly brought back to the time I told him he had a talent for connecting with others, so I suggested he look into becoming a therapist. By the time I was offered a permanent job with the glassmaking company, Wade had begun working toward his license at the nearby college, which was another reason we stayed in Laguna Beach. Before either of us knew it, I was running a glassmaking company of my own and Wade had more clients than he knew what to do with.
I sit up, stretch, and get out of bed.
“You going to put some clothes on?” Wade asks.
I roll my eyes. “Nah, I was thinking about walking out like this and traumatizing our daughter.” He laughs again as I open the closet door and grab the first dress I see.
“Speaking of which, I can’t believe she didn’t want to go to Searacuse with us,” Wade says as I hear him roll out of bed and open one of his dresser drawers.
I take a look around our bedroom, which has some noticeably empty spaces. Several of our possessions are sitting in packed boxes in the living room. Over the years, owning my own company has gifted me with opportunities to travel all over the world. Sometimes it would be for marketing purposes, sometimes new stores wanted to sell our creations, sometimes I would help with designing new buildings like Brooke mentioned the first time we met. Wade always accompanied me on the expeditions unless work forced him to stay in Laguna Beach or if we couldn’t find someone to take care of our daughter. While Vivisteria – or Viva, as she quickly came to be known – wasn’t able to come on these trips much due to school, the ones she could she absolutely adored.
However, these trips were typically only a few days to a week or two long. This time, we were to live in Searacuse for the entire summer while I helped set up my company’s newest location abroad. I’d had a couple other locations pop up across the country, but never overseas, and I was really excited. Spending an entire summer in a country as amazing as Italake with my husband and daughter sounded like a dream come true. Wade had been approved for remote work, so he had no problem with coming along (though flame knows how he’s going to survive with a nine-hour time difference between him and his clients).
However, imagine our shock when our daughter told us she wanted to spend the summer in Element City with Wade’s family.
Despite the nearly 3,000 miles between us and the rest of the Ripple family, we still visit them nearly every holiday and vice versa. Naturally, they were more than willing to take Viva in for the summer – they adore her and she adores them, and the city. Viva had also told us she wanted to try and find a summer job, which her dad and I were in favor of. Still, I can’t deny it’s going to be rough spending an entire summer with her.
“Well, I hate to say it, but she’s growing up.” I feel a twinge of pain in my heart at the thought, but I ignore it. I have to get used to it sooner or later. “She’s going to want to learn to do things on her own.”
Wade doesn’t reply, but I hear small splashes and whimpers coming from the other side of the room. I don’t comment, letting him cry. I’m talking about his little girl after all. Our little girl.
I’m ready in less than five minutes, and by that time, Wade’s drying his eyes (well, the best he can, that is). I give him a sympathetic smile and wrap my arms around his waist. He hugs me back.
“Look on the bright side, we haven’t had three months alone in years,” I whisper. “When I’m not working, we can do whatever we want.”
I feel him kiss the top of my head. “That’s true. Besides, we can always make another kid while we’re there.”
There’s a brief silence before we’re both laughing out loud. Like that’s going to happen. Between our careers and Viva, we’re way too busy.
When we’ve both calmed down, we find ourselves staring at each other again. His hand gently reaches up to cup the back of my head, which always means he’s going pull me into a kiss. I close my eyes.
However, seconds before his lips meet mine, I pull away. “We have to get ready for work,” I whisper and exit the room.
For a moment, he doesn’t say a word as I walk away, but I can sense he now feels the same frustration I did minutes ago. “I suppose that was for stopping you earlier?”
I continue down the hallway, but I peek at him over my shoulder and give him a smirk. “Now we’re even.”
-Vivisteria’s POV-
It’s just me and the soft, early morning sky.
I’m one with the clouds, drifting slowly and lazily on my back with nowhere to go but here. I can’t see the sun – it’s still rising – but I can feel the warmth of its gentle hug slowly crawling up my body the more it inches into the sky.
I take a deep breath through my nose, inhaling the scent of the nearby sea - a scent I’ve treasured my whole life. It’s joined by the distant sound of waves rolling in to kiss the shore. I can’t go too far from the beach in moments like this, but with the peace it fills me with, why would I want to?
I've gotten into the habit of waking up early every morning to come here. I used to count the minutes before I had to leave the sky and return to the ground, but that pulled my focus away from my flight. Now, I just breathe and let time be.
“Viva, it’s time to get ready for school!”
Ugh! I couldn’t have five more minutes?
I slowly sit up, wobbling a bit as the water begins to stir with my movements. I've never actually been able to fly, but like my dad, I can breathe underwater and walk on it. Unlike him though, I can withstand really high temperatures without evaporating. That comes from the fire in my DNA.
My mom is watching me from the end of our pool about ten feet away. Part of me has always felt bad that she can’t enjoy the pool like Dad and I can, but she’s never seemed too bothered by it.
I shoot a quick glance back at the sky. I know how it feels to want what you can’t have.
Rising to my feet, I walk across the water to my mom (though I make a point of walking slowly).
Mom rolls her eyes, catching on to my sass. “Yeah, it really sucks to be you. It’s not like you can come out here anytime you want.”
I step out of the pool, wrapping myself in a towel I left out so I don’t flick water onto her. “Not when I’m stuck in jail for eight hours every day.”
“It’s called high school, smarty,” Mom fires back (no pun intended) as we walk back into the house.
I pull up a chair at the table, where Dad’s already laid out my breakfast. “And you clearly don’t remember it at all,” I reply.
She chuckles and tousles my steam. It’s been one of her ways of showing me affection pretty much since the day I was born. “Well, luckily, you’re up for parole in a few days.”
I nod in surrender, feeling excitement bubble up inside me. Summer break can't get here fast enough.
“Speaking of which,” Dad chimes in as he pulls up a chair, “are you sure you don’t want to come to Searacuse with us?”
I admit, spending an entire summer in Italake sounds incredible. I’ve always loved whenever I could join my parents on their trips, even if I couldn’t join them often. Since Mom was always strictly traveling for work, we couldn’t sightsee as much as the average traveler, and doing so without her didn’t feel right. However, when you’re a kid on vacation, anything could end up being an adventure. Some of my most treasured memories were of the little things, like my dad pushing me up and down the halls of hotels on luggage carts or making friends with other kids at the pool, even if those friendships only lasted thirty minutes. However, with an entire summer at our disposal, we would have plenty of time between Mom’s work hours to travel the country. Exploring ancient cities, unbelievable food for every meal, famous museums, cute Italakian boys; it could be a dream come true.
But for years, I’ve been dying to go to Element City on my own. I could never ask my parents for that any other time; they would start asking questions. When the opportunity of an entire summer came, I knew I had to take it. I might never get a chance like this again.
“I’m sure, Dad,” I reply between bites of my breakfast. “Aqua’s already rearranged her room to fit two beds. I can’t let that go to waste.”
I still remember how excited my cousin was when I told her she was getting a roommate for the summer. I’m pretty sure every night will be turned into a slumber party, complete with staying up until 3 am.
“Besides,” I continue, “With your crazy schedules, you and Mom could use some alone time.”
Maybe I can finally get that little brother or sister I’ve always wanted, I add, mentally.
My mom gives Dad an I told you so glance. He rolls his eyes but still looks at her like she’s the most beautiful thing in the world. No matter how old I’ve gotten, my parents have always looked at each other like they’re still on their honeymoon. Even as a little kid, I could see that. I’ve seen so many friends’ parents start to act more like roommates or even get divorced over the years, but the love my parents share still burns as bright as my mom’s flame. I can’t act like I don’t find it gross sometimes (no kid wants to think about their parents’ romantic lives) but I’m still happy for them. I secretly pray I can find a love like theirs someday.
My mom returns his look as she walks over to him and wraps her arms around his shoulders, planting a kiss on his temple.
“Ew! At least wait till I leave the room!” I cry, sticking my tongue out in disgust. I take it back. It’s all gross.
I shovel the last bite of my breakfast into my mouth, swallowing it before it comes back up. I dash upstairs to change out of my swimsuit, my towel still draped over my shoulders. I can hear my parents laughing on the floor below and realize they grossed me out on purpose. I change into an orange tank top and dark blue jean shorts while plans of petty revenge dance through my head.
As I grab my backpack off the floor, a loose paper flies out and flutters to the ground. I pick it back up and take a second to look at it.
My mom has always been a gifted artist, be it glass sculptures or drawings. A couple of months ago, I had gone through the storage closet – I don’t even remember what I had been looking for – when I came across a small stack of her old artwork near the back of it. It wasn’t uncommon to find her sketches throughout the house, but instead of a sketch of one of her old glass pieces, I found something much more intriguing.
The picture showcases three fire people outside of a small shop. The shop takes up most of the background so there’s no clear indicator where it’s located, but between the shelves drawn in the windows and the big sign out front reading The Fireplace, it’s clear what it is. But the most eye-catching part is the three fire people standing in the foreground who look to be a man, a woman, and a little girl. They’re drawn as if they’re smiling for a picture. The man and the woman are about the same height, both look either middle-aged or close to it, and both have an arm wrapped around each other. They’re each resting a hand on top of one of the little fire girl’s shoulders. The little girl isn’t looking toward the supposed camera, but rather up at the man with an adoring smile. She looks like she could be four or five years old. There’s no doubt these three are a family.
My suspicions were confirmed when I thumbed through a couple more of the drawings in the stack. These drawings were of my mom and her parents.
I know almost nothing about my grandparents. The most I ever got was that they didn’t like my dad so my mom never spoke to them again. You’d think that would be enough to make any kid hate these two complete strangers, but there was one thing that always stopped me. Every time my mom’s parents were mentioned in any way, she got this look on her face. It’s the same kind of look you get when you see someone you love hooked up to multiple machines in the hospital – a look of utter sadness. It only lasts for a second before she either shakes it off or my dad finds a way to redirect her, but it’s something that’s stuck with me for years. I’ve tried to get answers, but Mom never talks about it. That look on her face always stopped me from pushing too much. I hate seeing my mom without the usual fire in her eyes (again, no pun intended).
I had shoved the rest of the drawings back into place, but I couldn’t bring myself to let go of this one. They looked like such a happy family. If Mom missed them that much, did they miss her too? I don’t know how long it’s been since she’s seen them, but with none of my baby pictures showing even a glimpse of the fire couple, they had to have stopped speaking before I was born. Could they possibly still be angry at her? Were they ever angry at her?
I have so many questions I can’t list them all. After staring at the picture for many nights as I tried to fall asleep, I knew I wasn’t going to get the answers here. There was only one place I could find them.
When my mom and dad brought up Searacuse, I saw my chance to go to Element City. I don’t have a clue how I’m going to handle things, but one way or another, I’m going to find the truth.
I shove the drawing into one of the suitcases I’ve stored under my bed for my upcoming trip. Definitely don’t want Mom to find it in my backpack.
I walk back downstairs trying to act normal, though there’s probably nothing in my appearance that indicates what I’m up to. I can hear the slight clatter of dishes as my mom and dad clean up from breakfast.
An evil idea enters my brain. Time for payback.
“Hey, Mom, can we run by the pharmacy after school today?” I ask, walking back into the kitchen.
“Sure, sweetheart. What for?” Mom asks, not even looking up from the dishes.
I choke back a laugh. “I’m almost out of condoms.”
My parents still haven’t turned to look at me; they’re frozen in place. The silence in the room is deafening. At least, it is for about ten seconds before I’m running to the front door laughing my head off.
“Not funny!” Dad shouts after me.
“Now we’re even!” I shout before I’m out the door, slamming it behind me.