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Spot was a split second away from dozing off completely in his biochem lecture when the shriek of the fire alarm nearly caused him to fall out of his seat onto the floor. He locked eyes with Race, sitting next to him and looking just as startled, before shouldering his backpack and looking expectantly at the professor. It’s just a drill, Spotty. The prof probably knew it was coming.
But Professor Larkin looked just as concerned and surprised, and Spot felt something sink in his stomach, forming a pit of dread. “Alright,” the professor announced, “everyone file outside.” She glared at the students who were taking their time. “ Now. This is not a drill.”
Grimacing, Spot grabbed ahold of Race’s arm by the elbow and tugged him forward, both of them hurrying out of the lecture hall and out towards the doors.
Now that they were out in the hallway, Spot could smell the smoke, thick and pungent, the scent cutting through the jostling crowds from the upper floors. It wasn’t just a small fire in the chemistry lab; it was something big and dangerous. As they reached the stairs, the crowds began to see and smell the smoke and the jostling grew more frantic. Spot felt Race reach for his hand, and unconsciously he took it, lacing their fingers together. Now wasn’t the time for Spot to be embarrassed about his years-long crush on his best friend or even the fact that they were holding hands at all; they were both just concerned about getting out of the building, and getting out safely.
The spiral staircases were tightly wound and not intended for the volume of people packing into them as the smoke began to create a haze in the air. Spot couldn’t tell if it was the volume of people in the crowd, or the heat of the growing fire he knew lay somewhere above their heads, but his forehead was beginning to drip with sweat. He kept a secure grip on Race’s hand as they burst out of the crowd on the bottom landing of the staircase, sirens growing louder and louder as the smoke got thicker and they finally burst out of the front doors of the lecture hall and sprinted down to the quad, where firemen were setting up barriers to keep students away.
From outside, they could see just how bad the fire was. Spot and Race stood still, open-mouthed, watching the flames lick up out of the upper windows, blackening the stone facade of the building. Students streamed out, coughing slightly but otherwise unharmed; people from the upper floors were covered in soot and looked worse for wear, but everyone seemed to be getting lucky. A glass window shattered on the top floor, smoke billowing black into the cloudless blue sky; Spot gulped audibly, and felt Race squeeze his hand.
A scream shattered the chaos, and everyone looked up towards the source. A little girl, no older than eight or nine, was leaning out of a top floor window, her face smeared with ash and streaked with tears. Spot felt like he’d been punched in the gut - he recognized her.
“Smalls,” Race choked out. Smalls was Professor Larkin’s daughter and Jack’s adopted sister; they all loved her as if she were their family as well. Behind them, the firefighters began mobilizing their ladder truck, but Spot already knew with a sinking feeling that it wasn’t tall enough to reach her. Hopefully one of the firefighters could get into the building, but right now there was only the one truck, and the rest of them were busy shepherding out students or spraying the hoses -
Spot felt Race abruptly tug his hand away. “Hold my backpack,” Race said, dropping it by Spot’s feet, his eyes full of a terrifying combination of fear and determination. “I know the fastest way ot that classroom. I’m going to get her.” Spot’s heart stopped.
“No the fuck you’re not!” He grabbed Race’s arm and spun his best friend around to look him in the eyes. “Are you crazy? That’s too dangerous, Race, look at that fire!” Race shook his head.
“I’m the only one who knows the fastest way up to that science lab. I can help her; they can’t.” Spot protested again as Race made to move away.
“No, Race, you can’t. That’s their job! Race,” Spot looked around desperately, “you go in there, and you’ll die.”
Race shook his head. “I have to try. I wait any longer, and she dies.”
Spot’s voice cracked. “You idiot, you can’t, I’m not letting you-”
Race seized Spot by the collar of his jacket and cut him off with a desperate kiss, breaking off with a shaky sigh and keeping their foreheads pressed together.
“I have to,” he whispered. “I love you. I’m sorry.”
He shoved Spot backwards before he could react and sprinted back in the direction of the building, not looking back, ignoring the shouts of the firefighters and the other students. Spot stumbled, almost collapsing onto the ground. He couldn’t find it in him to say anything; his brain was still trying to catch up.
Race kissed me--
Race told me he loved me--
Race is running towards the burning building--
Race might die and he just told me he loved me and now I might never get to say it back.
“No,” Spot shouted, his voice hoarse. “Race!” he screamed desperately, struggling to regain his balance and moving to run after him. “Race--” He felt a hand grab his arm, stopping him, and turned to see Jack, looking up at the building with panic in his eyes.
“Where’s Smalls?” Jack asked him, his voice full of agitation. Spot struggled to get the words out, feeling hysterical sobs begin to build up in his throat.
“She - building - fire - she was - top floor -” he gasped, and then pointed in the direction of the building and choked out, “ Race went back inside.” Jack let out a slow, shaky exhale, his eyes shot with red, and Spot felt the terror overtake him, sinking to the ground and letting out a short sob. He felt Jack kneel down beside him, felt a strong arm wrap around his shoulders, but he could feel Jack shaking even as he tried to hide it, and Jack never got scared.
“Race kissed me,” Spot whispered, barely audible through his tears, and Jack met his eyes with shock and sadness.
“They’ll be okay,” Jack whispered back, his voice trembling. “They will. They’ve got to be.”
They stayed there on the ground for what couldn’t have been more than minutes, but what felt like hours, watching with increased horror as the flames grew and grew and black smoke billowed into the sky. Spot gripped Jack’s arms, his whole body shaking with anxiety and panic, the flow of tears unstoppable. Race was his best friend, hell, his soulmate, and now Spot knew that Race had shared those feelings and now he could be gone. A life wasted on an act of hopeless heroism. Spot squeezed his eyes shut, unable to bear it any longer.
A shout suddenly startled the crowd, and Spot opened his eyes just in time to see the front doors of the building burst open to reveal none other than Race, stumbling down the steps, covered in ash and soot, Smalls cradled in his arms looking shaken up but very much alive. Spot and Jack let out shouts of relief, leaping up and tearing across the grass to where paramedics were moving towards the pair. Jack got there first, taking Smalls from Race’s arms with a quick, tight hug and a grateful “ thank you” , and then everything else disappeared as Race reached Spot and collapsed into his arms.
Race was shaking all over, his skin feverishly warm and his face and hair blackened with soot and ash and smoke. He coughed, tremors shaking his whole body, and Spot wrapped both arms around him to keep him secure as he slowly lowered them both to the grass, cradling Race in his arms. Race took a deep, shuddering breath of fresh air, attempting to get the smoke out of his lungs.
“Spot,” he started, before dissolving into another fit of coughs. Spot held him tightly, rocking him back and forth, making soothing noises and pressing kisses into his hair.
“It’s okay, you’re okay,” he whispered. “I’ve got you. You’re safe, you’re okay, everything’s okay.” He couldn’t tell who he was trying to reassure more, Race or himself, but Race held on tighter, burrowing his face in the crook of Spot’s neck and taking deep breaths as the paramedics made their way over.
“I love you too, by the way,” Spot whispered in his ear, “you stupid, stupid boy.” Race smiled softly, his eyes closed, and reached one hand down to lace their fingers together.
They were going to be okay.