Firebug: Chapter 12 - Emergency

Theo had no bloody clue what happened. One second, he was the happiest he'd ever been in his life, wrapped tightly in the embrace of the boy he loved. His best mate. The dearest, most precious person he'd ever known.

The next, Roman was pushing him away. Hard.

He tumbled backward right off the weight bench and onto the floor from the force of the shove, breathless from panic and the incredible kiss they'd just shared. Before Theo had the chance to ask what was wrong, he discovered the cause for himself. His hands... His awful, hideous, sodding hands were ablaze.

Theo had taken his gloves off to use the loo, and he'd forgotten to put them back on after washing his hands. Now that the Curse had flared, he had merely seconds to act before his entire body became an inferno. And Roman's along with it.

Oh, bollocks: Roman.

Theo was touching him when it happened. He could've disfigured the Student Body President for life, or worse. It was Jason all over again... only this time, Theo knew for certain he'd never be able to live with the guilt over what he'd done.

The flames shot up to his elbows, fueled by his unbridled terror and self-hatred. Theo clawed at his chest in spite of them, his features contorted in an involuntary wince, desperate to loosen the enormous, invisible vice ratcheting around his ribcage. He knew that it was vital he find a way to extinguish himself, but he remained rooted to the spot on his knees. No sooner had that thought crossed his mind, Theo's entire upper body lit up like a medieval torch.

It was too late. The heat... the pain... it was all too great to bear.

A split second later, Theo was tackled from behind without warning. He bounced off the floor like a human beachball, feeling as if he'd just been struck by a speeding car. Everything went dark in a blink, but he was quite sure he was still conscious. It took him a few moments to realize that there was a thick swath of fabric coiled around his upper body, covering him from head to mid-chest. He was also aware of a set of strong hands, slapping all across his arms, shoulders, and upper back to smother the flames. A deeply appreciated but unnecessary gesture, as he'd already managed to set off the sprinkler system overhead.

Theo lay on the floor for several minutes like a rag doll, swaddled in his strange, soggy half-cocoon. The stench of singed wool and partially melted pleather was not at all pleasant, but he dared not raise his head. He couldn't bear to see what he'd done to Roman. No matter how urgently the taller bloke shook him.

"Theo!? Theo, wake up!! C'mon, Theo, please! Please be okay! Theo!!"

Every muscle in Theo's body tightened to corded steel. Roman was worried... about him? That didn't make any sense. He shouldn't even be able to speak at all, considering the horrific burns he'd surely sustained. It was a miracle he wasn't rolling on the floor next to Theo, screaming and writhing in agony.

Although terror still held a firm grip on Theo, curiosity forced him to peep through a gap in his shroud of safety. To his utter shock, Roman was absolutely fine. Soaking wet, perhaps, but totally unmarred by Theo's fiery touch. There wasn't a single hair on his head that had been scorched. It shouldn't have been at all possible, given how long Theo's flaming fingers had woven through those soft, unruly dark waves.

The moment he saw Theo's nose emerge from that odd little cocoon, Roman visibly relaxed. He yanked Theo into a hug that same second, squeezing the Brit so tightly that his ribs cracked. Not caring a whit, it seemed, that he'd nearly been incinerated.

"Thank God," Roman breathed, rubbing Theo's back through the oversized letterman jacket covering it, "Damn: you really scared me there for a second! Are you okay?! A-Are you hurt at all?!"

Theo's face crinkled with a deep grimace, forcing himself to wiggle out of Roman's embrace. His jacket and shirt were both reduced to ash. While his person was perfectly in-tact, The skin covering his face, arms, and torso was tight, red, and painfully sensitive. Like he'd been broiling on a beach all day without a drop of sun cream. Every icy droplet of water from the sprinklers was a stinging needle on his flesh, evaporating with a tiny, mocking sizzle almost as soon as they landed.

"I-I'm... f-fine," he lied, hissing through his teeth as he hugged himself. Still reeling a bit from shock and dizzy with pain, he fought for the strength to raise a timid, shaky hand to Roman's cheek. Although he was no longer on fire, he still couldn't bring himself to touch it.

"H-How...?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Roman said, shaking with a small, nervous chuckle. "I'm so sorry for shoving you like that. When I saw the fire, I just sorta freaked." He sighed heavily, smiling as he held Theo's hand against his face, "I've heard of hot kisses before, but that was something else. Next time, I'll be more prepared."

"Next time?!" Theo shouted, tearing his hand away and cradling it to his chest, "Are you bloody mad?! I-I could've killed you just now! Dad was right: I... I'm losing control every day bit by bit!"

"Trust me, Theo, you were completely in control," Roman argued calmly, "...um... well, until I made you lose it." Without an ounce of fear, Roman gently took Theo's hand again, weaving their fingers together. His cool skin and calming touch was all Theo needed to relax... but that didn't make what Roman said next any less bizarre.

"I've never seen fire like that before," Roman admitted, "It was... actually kinda pretty, like a purply-pink. And the weirdest thing of all? It wasn't even hot."

"I-I don't... th-that's not possible," Theo stammered, "M-My flames are... always yellow-orange." He looked at the blistered fingers of his free hand then, and a wave of sour bile coated his tongue. "W-Well... no. N-Not always. Th-They were blue when... wh-when J-Jason..."

If he opened his mouth again, Theo knew he'd be sick. In an effort to keep his guts in, Theo clamped his palm tight across his lips. It did little to muffle the sob that barreled forcefully up his throat, however. No matter how he tried to fight it, the scene played itself out for him in razor-sharp clarity, as if it had only happened minutes ago.

Cormack, beating the stuffing out of Jason because it was Tuesday; the unfathomable anger welling up inside Theo, as he begged the blackguard to stop; the fireball, as big, hot, and blue as Mercury sailing from Theo's fingertips like a missile...

...and Jason's scream, after he pushed Cormack out of its path.

Theo wasn't even aware Roman was holding him again until a deep, rhythmic thump-thump cut through Jason's disembodied scream. The sound was so steady; so comforting. Like thunder, rolling over a distant mountain range. By the time Theo realized it was Roman's heartbeat thrumming under his cheek, his best mate was helping him to his feet.

That was a strange thought: "best mate". Honestly, Theo didn't know what he and Roman were to one another anymore. He knew what he wanted them to be, of course... but after this, it felt entirely impossible to achieve any level of intimacy with anyone.

Thaddeus was right yet again: Theo couldn't afford mates, platonic of otherwise. He was too much of a liability.

Theo's eyes were still on his hands while Roman steered him toward the door. He was saying something - and it seemed rather important - but Theo was having difficulty focusing on his voice. It was too distant; too distorted to make any sense of. And his hands... they were all wrong. Theo had far too many fingers all of a sudden. They swam and shimmied before his eyes like confetti in a kaleidoscope, overlapping one another in triplicate. He'd only just thought how odd that was when his senses abandoned him without warning.

The next thing Theo knew, he was flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Only, it wasn't the weight room's ceiling. Nor did he remember the weight room's floor being so soft and spongy. As his senses slowly returned, he realized he wasn't on the floor at all. He was in a bed. A thin, lumpy little bed with threadbare, papery sheets.

"There he is," the school nurse muttered dryly, seconds before his haggard, wrinkly face appeared above Theo. "Welcome back. How ya feelin', Kiddo?"

Theo blinked slowly up at the nurse, still in a daze. "Wh-What happened?"

"Search me," the nurse sighed, "According to your Student Body President, you passed out in the bathroom. Probably from low blood sugar." He pulled a digital thermometer from his breast pocket as he spoke and pressed it into Theo's ear, frowning at its built-in screen a moment later. "...or maybe not. That's some fever you got, Bud."

Theo ignored the nurse's comment, scanning the sparse room in a panic. "Roman?" he called weakly, "Wh-Where is he?"

"In class, I imagine," the nurse grumped, "which is where he belongs. You, on the other hand, are staying in that bed until your dad gets here."

"Out of my way!! Where the bloody hell is he?!"

Theo was already bolt upright, his heart quivering behind his tonsils at the voice booming down the corridor, long before the door to the nurse's office banged open. Thaddeus blew through it like a hurricane an instant later, dashing to Theo's bedside with wide, manic eyes.

"What happened?!" he demanded, "Theodore, are you alright?!"

"I-I'm fine, Dad," Theo mumbled, leaning away from the gloved hands pawing at him aggressively, "knock it off, please. I'm not hurt."

Thaddeus visibly relaxed until his piercing grey eyes locked onto Theo's shirt, drawing Theo's attention to it as well. The baggy, faded red tee caught the teen completely by surprise, mostly because he wasn't wearing it before. It didn't fit his style either, featuring a cartoon, anthropomorphized pizza slice and the words, "Carmela's Famous Sicilian-Style Pizza, est. 1977". The distinct, deeply comforting odors of sweat and Krakengard Old Spice embedded in the fabric gave Theo an inkling of where it might've come from, however.

Without warning, Thaddeus hooked a leather clad digit around the shirt's droopy collar and tugged it down. Theo pulled it back up again immediately, trying desperately to keep the bruises on his chest hidden. It was all for naught, though, as his father's face hardened into a severe glower in a matter of seconds.

"Where did you get those marks?! Theodore, I swear, if that boy is responsible-!"

"Dad! Give over!" Theo snapped, "Roman would never hurt me! Let's just go home, alright?!"

The fury in Thaddeus' eyes was hot enough to melt iron, but he held his tongue when he realized the nurse was still standing there. "Fine," he conceded, "home it is... then, you're telling me everything!"