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There will come a day when you are locked in a cage, with only a red solo cup of rat poison and an old man who is convinced he can talk to ghosts as company. Today is not that day.
Today, tonight rather, flame licks at the world around you, a blinding blue with a sharp cut of white around the flickering edges. The sky is dark and the moon casts its ghostly halo down on you. Stars wink and shimmer, shining with an intensity that can’t rival that of the fires. They crackle and burn around you, the heat they bring to your cheeks gentle and constant.
To your right is the boy you have loved since you knew the meaning of the word. His hair ruffles in the slight wind, silky smooth and dark as the midnight sky. His eyes flicker a glorious shade of indigo, lighting up with the reflection of the flame. It’s bright in his shiny irises, hopeful and awestruck in ways you never quite see on him. His eyebrows are still set, the way they always are, and he has a light frown pressed on slightly open and oily lips. The glow of a nearby streetlamp lights the window of exposed skin on his chest in a golden haze.
You have loved him since you were first able to and you will whisper his name in the dead of the night like your own personal prayer.
Tobio.
You think he may be one of the most effortlessly handsome people you have ever seen in your entire life. One of, only because the other stands several meters ahead of you.
Just out of arms’ reach is the boy you have loved since you learned one would never be enough. A space in your heart needed another, someone to fill the cracks your dark-haired boy— your boy, your Tobio —carves in his wake. You could never be satisfied when you knew there could be more, and now here you are, staring at your second love.
He is a pale vision of distaste and revolt and you think, even with that look twisting his blond brows into something awful, that he is so simply handsome. His eyes are keen and while you know they are golden, in this moment they reflect the entirety of the fires raging higher around you. He burns the same as them, quietly and with all the glory of their aqua blaze. He is so silver in the moonlight, a painting in all cool swaths, shifting and blending in front of your very eyes. He is a constant, too, like the heat etching itself into your exposed skin where the inferno ghosts across. He is a constant, even when he is morphing into shadow and light.
You will love him with all the ferocity of crackling flame. You will huff his name on a laugh just to see him get all ruffled about it.
Your Kei.
Around you, the fires burn, higher and higher. They lick hungrily at your fingertips and reduce the surrounding houses to rubble. The cobblestones beneath your feet are grounding, something steady while everything else is painted in the blue of destruction.
You have been told that you are so very blue. Not like flames, but like oceans. Like unreachable depths, unknown and untouched. You have been taunted with these words, with promises made from poisonous mouths that knew nothing.
A hand brushes your own, fingers linking between you nervously, gently.
You think that whoever told you that you are ever so blue, an untouchable anomaly, never tried hard enough.
Your boy, your Tobio that you have loved and loved, brushes the hard pad of his thumb along the back of your hand. He scratches a pattern similar to that of the flames, flickery and uncontrolled.
Kei watches from ahead. His frown lessens a little when he sees two connected hands. You have never known him to be soft, but the way his hard edges smooth out, pressed and ironed to a calmer state, has you believing he could be. If only for you. If only for you and your other boy, his other boy, your shared prize, Tobio.
Something around you snaps. The wooden frame of a house topples to the ground like it’s nothing more than sticks. The flames kiss your open palm and etch glowing blue into your fingerprints. The gold of the streetlight flickers, dancing across Tobio’s chest, his face, his cheekbones. Shadows of his long lashes crawl along his under-eye, spidery and so very handsome.
The light flickers again, this time it doesn’t come back on. You are left in the blue of the fire and the silver of the moon.
Tobio pulls in close, nosing at your ear and whispering low and rough, That’s enough.
You laugh something harsh, teasing, How would you know? Nothing is ever enough for you.
He misses no beat, You are.
You laugh again, more of a low giggle, something easy on the ears and more playful than not, That can’t be true. You spare a glance at Kei ahead of you. He touches at the fires, cautiously, as though he may burn. They blow right over his head, making such a large man seem something small.
Tobio follows your gaze. Kei offers a crooked quirk of his lips, just the corners.
The both of you, you’re enough for me, Tobio tries instead.
Kei approaches slowly, the soles of his shoes echo sharp across the cobbles. He would look menacing to anyone but you. To you, he is the same as he has always been. He may be complex, sure, the tight knit of his face doesn’t match the loose knots of his heart, but you’ve figured him out. Piece by piece you’ve taken him as your own, greedy hands mapping out his entirety and fitting him into your narrow understanding.
He might be right, He says, simply, plainly. He pushes his chin in Tobio’s direction.
You scoff, only lightly. A flick of your wrist, a little harsh cutting motion, and all is dark. The fires die away in an instant and you are left under the glow of the moon. The world surrounding you crumbles slowly, crackling in the wake of what you have left behind.
It’ll be only a moment more before the authorities show up, sirens blaring and handcuffs clinking, so you will make the most of the seconds you have.
A thin finger entwines with your free pinky, Kei gives you a careless look.
You pull him a little closer, enough so you can feel him shiver beneath the fabric of his overcoat, enough so you can smell the oil of clove and the green cleanliness of his cologne. You pull Tobio a little closer, too.
The three of you stand shoulder to shoulder, slow smirks tearing at your quiet lips. A vigorous sense of pride swells in the space between your shoulder blades. This is where you stand, hand in hand with the two you love most, the dull hum of sirens starting somewhere far off.
This is where you stand, victorious.
There will come a day when you are locked in a cage, with only a red solo cup of rat poison and an old man who is convinced he can talk to ghosts as company. Across the hall from you, through black crusted bars, you will see the boy you have loved since you knew the meaning of the word. Behind a dusty brick wall with nail scratches like pleas, you will hear the boy you have loved since you learned one would never be enough. The three of you will sit, in three small cages, locked away. You will be thought of as people subjected to a life penned, imprisoned for crimes beyond understanding. You will be thought of as people who do not know the bite of fresh air or the kiss of the sun. Someday, this will be your fate.
Today is not that day.
For today, you know freedom, in the flames that have lapped at your fingertips, and the wicked smile curling your lips. For today, you hold the world in your hands, and love carved into the curves of your rib cage. For today, you do not need a happy ending, not when you have moments like this to set your heart ablaze.
And ablaze it is.