jalbert oneshots

⛽gasoline⛽(ANGST)

a/n
hello! this is albert writing this oneshot ^_^
i've been feeling unwell lately and i've needed to get some things off of my chest so i decided to do it with this fic
not smut, but still a strong enough start, lol

trigger warnings: arson, burns, fire, and self-harm

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Albert sat with his knees up to his chin in the damp nighttime grass, lighter outstretched in his hand and lit. The fire reflected in his wide eyes, blank expression unmoving.

Fire was everything to Albert.

Fire could bring life and tear it apart, mow over lands for new plants to be grown and burn a living thing down to its very core. It could hurt, it could heal, melting and charring skin and patching his own trauma every time he allowed it to take over. The flickering flames drew him in - no matter how hard he tried not to, the inevitability of it all pulled him into cascading inferno.

He usually had no memories of when he left sparks in his wake, but sometimes he'd open his eyes after thinking he'd gotten a good night of rest and the only thing he would remember would be the glow of orange and white devouring a building before him. Occasionally the embers would fly out and land upon his skin, leaving charred marks behind. He never flicked them off his body, they'd fall off naturally.

The moon was high above him now, Kirsten and Jake probably wondering where he'd wandered off to. Or they just thought he'd gone off to record another merch ad. That was probably why he'd been sitting out in the woods for an hour or so without anybody calling his name.

He needed to satisfy the urge before it got worse.

Albert stood up quickly, the flame brushing against his hand and sending a thrill of warmth through his arm. He opened his phone in record time, checking Google Maps for the nearest run-down location he could turn into a quite literal hot spot. He leaned down to hoist his backpack over his shoulders, the only thing within it being a half-full gasoline can.

He didn't bother to click the lighter shut as he took off at a run away from his house, no other apps open on his phone except for the map. He'd somehow found an adequate building to get rid of, and quickly at that. It wasn't exactly close though; the run would take him more than a few minutes.

The stars and occasional drifting cloud watched him as he gave in. The brisk, dark October air felt like sandpaper to his lungs and he couldn't get enough of it. His shoes crunched against the dying leaves and frosted grass, the gasoline sloshing audibly in his bag. Before he knew it, the forgotten building he'd marked on his map was looming before him and he was panting like an animal from running so far. His house was a fifty minute walk away now that he was tired, but Albert couldn't find it in himself to care.

The brunet clicked off his phone and shoved it roughly into his pocket, removing his backpack and opening it up as he studied the building. Relatively old and seemingly unsturdy, he deemed the broken windows a good place for entry. There were no stairs, which just made his job easier, really- stairs were a pain when you were trying not to get turned into something reminiscent of pork.

He picked up the gasoline can and tossed it through a window at the very front before hoisting himself up, leaving his lighter - now unlit - atop his empty backpack. He zoned out as he went through his steady, practiced routine of dousing everything in sight with gasoline, the smell invading his nose and deciding to stick there, even as he kicked open the front door of the long-deserted house and led a line of the yellow liquid out onto the wet grass (which he was thankful for - it would've been a whole other mess if the grass was dry).

His heartbeat felt as though it intensified as he picked up the lighter and opened it with a faint click, and Albert told himself several times over he knew he poured the fluid over everything as he sat down in front of the line he'd made, backpack and can leaning against his side.

"You're a fuck-up," he said quietly, putting the flame to the gasoline and watching the fire shoot forward into the building and rocket upward in the matter of a few seconds.

Albert stood back up and took in his fine work, the brightness of it all making his eyes water. But he didn't look away, he never could. He felt like both a god and a maniac in these moments, in all control of an element and what it could do to something, or rather, someone. He shuddered at this thought for once.

He froze at the sound of footsteps in the leaves behind him but refused to break his gaze from the bonfire before him, worried that if he might that the urge will break him yet again and whoever is behind him will suffer the worst fate in store for them. He nearly felt the blood rushing in his ears as the footsteps slowed, no doubt in either awe or terror at what this man in front of them had just done, and neared him ever closer.

"Albert?" came Jake's voice, one that the shorter brunet did not expect at all.

"Jake," he said, closing the lighter. He couldn't look away from the fire. Silently, Albert kneeled down briefly to set aside his lighter and took off his hoodie, revealing a striped blue undershirt and heavily bandaged arms. He picked the lighter back up with him and fell into a routine he remembered much too well. Jake only watched with mild apprehension and concern.

Albert felt eyes burn holes in his back as he bit the one loose wrap of gauze he always made sure was there, beginning to pull it back around his left arm over and over again to remove the bandage entirely. As he did this, he lit the lighter for what felt like the hundredth time that night and made sure to hide it from Jake's view as best as he could. The gauze fell loose and drifted delicately to the ground, revealing ugly, dark red and wrinkled burn scars up almost one entire side of his arm.

For the first time since he'd lit it, Albert turned his head to look at Jake and held the small flame beneath an unmarked portion of his arm.

Jake didn't notice what was going on (for now). He was watching his friend with a sort of melancholy look about him. Albert jerked his arm accidentally as the flame stung his arm, and the taller man noticed instantly.

"What are you doing?" he asked tentatively, approaching carefully as Albert stared at him with furrowed eyebrows, bare arm still held over the fire like he was cooking meat.

"Don't," he said softly, and Jake stopped in his tracks. "Don't come closer, please." His arm shook as warmth overtook a portion of it, and his eyes watered but he managed to keep his footing instead of keeling over like he usually does.

"Albert," the tall brunet said, more sternly now. The mentioned man was doing everything he could to keep himself from breaking, but Jake was getting closer and closer and it was only a matter of time before the floodgates opened.

After the familiar numbing sting, he knew it was time to let go of the lighter - he remembered how long it takes to burn himself, what a talent, no? - and he dropped it to the grass at his feet before turning it off, again. His arm swung loosely to his side and the expression on Jake's face could only mean one thing.

He knew.

Albert choked, coughed, and salty tears ran down his red cheeks, glistening in the light of the fire. He sobbed brokenly, slouching in defeat, and his best friend quickly ran to his side.

"Oh, man," Jake said, quickly throwing an arm around the other's waist to keep him from falling over. He slumped into his arms, smelling of smoke and ash, and instinctively gripped Jake's shirt like it was his last minute on Earth.

Jake's free hand wandered to Albert's uncovered arm, gently feeling the warm charred skin. It was like his friend's body was a canvas, and all Albert wanted to do was destroy it. He carded a hand through the other's hair, the fire raging on beside them.

"Oh, Albert," Jake whispered. "you left your phone's location on."

Albert wanted to scream forever.