Ross
September 2013
"Ryan, get down here! We're going to be late for lunch with the Ellises!"
I groaned inwardly, rolling out of bed and fixing the stupid black button-up that my mother made me wear before walking downstairs. Upon making it to the hallway by the front door, my mother gaped happily as she saw me. "Honey," she said softly, coming over to smooth back my hair, "you look so handsome!"
I rolled my eyes, mumbling a soft 'thanks,' following her and my father out to the car. After we all clambered in the car, we were headed down the freeway to one of the most expensive restaurants in town and I began to think back to something that's been going through my mind for months. "Mom?"
Mom turned around, smiling at me softly. "What is it, Ry?"
I thought over my question gently, picking at my nail beds. "Am I gonna have to be a lawyer like you and Dad?"
Mom's smile fell softly, glancing at my dad before glancing back to me. "Well," she started, leaning back over the seat, "what else would you want to do, dear?"
Again, I thought over my words very carefully before answering my mom in a soft tentative voice. "I was thinking, maybe - I might've wanted to be a vet? Or play music! I'm getting really good with my guitar, or I could do English! Or-"
"That's enough." My dad - George's - voice was booming throughout the vehicle. When Dad spoke, his words were final. "We've already got your AP classes and your college courses set up for you to start next year. No more talk of the foolishness of being a vet, or a musician or an English major."
I folded in on myself, feeling mom's sympathetic smile, but keeping my eyes out the window.
Today was going to be a long day.
* * *
It rains so much in Philadelphia.
So much so, that I'm never surprised when the power knocks out - much like tonight. Mom and Dad we're currently at some business dinner, leaving me home alone, illuminated by candlelight as I finish my advanced language arts homework. 'Advanced' is a relative term, seeing as I could do this shit in my sleep.
I decided to take a break from this tedious child level assignment, taking one of the candles downstairs to the kitchen so I could grab a glass of water. I put ice in a cup and filled it, bringing it to my lips and nearly spitting it out as soon as it entered my mouth. I grimaced softly, holding the candle next to the cup so I could look inside and furrowed my brows upon seeing that it was just ice water. For some reason, it tasted almost like battery acid, making my mouth even feel dry like a desert. I set the candle down and poured the water down the sink, going to head back upstairs before I noticed something that freaked me out even more.
My fingertips were on fire.
Not, like, on fire in the sense of being covered in flames, but two little flames flickering above my index and middle finger on my right hand. Terrified, I shook my hand vigorously, which put out the flames in no time. Slightly cautious, I reached forward toward the candle, hesitating slightly before moving my hand slowly toward the flame. This time, instead of igniting my fingertips, the flame came straight to form a ball in the palm of my hand.
I didn't freak out this time - at least not outwardly - but instead I looked over the flame flickering in my hand. I started laughing softly before carrying it into the living room and taking a look at the fireplace. I bit my lip softly before taking the ball of fire and throwing it directly into the fireplace. I was delighted to find that I didn't miss, and it completely ignited the wood sitting in the stone cut out of the wall.
Laughing more enthusiastically, I went and grabbed the candle from the kitchen, bringing it into the living room and sitting about five feet away from the fireplace. I picked up another ball of flames in my hands and began playing basically a game of catch with the fireplace. I was so caught up in what I was doing that I didn't notice the front door opening, and I definitely didn't notice my parents standing in the archway, looking at me with wary eyes until my father said my name.
It startled me, and when I went to throw another ball of flames, it hit the concrete wall beside the fireplace. "Mom," I started, walking over to them with a smile, "Dad! You are not going to believe what I can do!"
Before I even got the chance to show them, my father was dragging me by my arm to the den. "Where did you learn how to do that," he demanded, the grip on my arm tightening painfully.
I whined in pain, trying to rip my arm free as my eyes filled with tears. "N-Nowhere, Dad!" My voice came out pained and scared, tears falling from my eyes as I finally got my arm free. "It just happened! I s-swear!"
Just as my father was going to speak again, my mom came and pulled me behind her and started talking very sternly to him. "George, stop," she said defiantly. "We knew this was a possibility, don't get angry with him."
Confused, I looked up at my mom. "A possibility," I questioned. "Me being able to force fire out of my fingertips was a possibility?"
My mom sighed before turning to fully face me. "Your grandfather - my father," she started, choosing her words carefully, "was a pyrokinetic. He began manipulating fire at 13, just like you are now. When you didn't get your powers on your birthday, we thought that - maybe - you wouldn't be cursed with the same thing he was. Turns out it just took some time to get to you."
I was still confused, but I didn't have time to ask questions before I was being ushered up to my room to pack my things. According to my mom, if people in town found out I was like my grandfather, they would be afraid; afraid enough to try to kill me before my powers got too advanced. Within the next two weeks, we were pulling up in Arlington Heights, Illinois, a suburb of Chicago where my parents thought we would be safe enough to live while I got my powers under control.
They enrolled me in school within another week, and I was already deemed the 'weird, new kid.' No one would talk to me, but I would always see a girl with turquoise hair and a boy with matching eyes watching me from a separate table. After a couple of weeks, they finally approached me on my way home. "You're Ryan, right," the girl asked me, earning a nod before her and the taller boy were pulling me down a weird street and into an abandoned, old house.
"Ryan," the guy started, "we have a sort of -" he paused, looking at the girl "-feeling about you. So we want to show you something."
Before I could ask, the girl pointed her hand toward a wall opposing us and what looked like snow began flowing from her hand and completely freezing over the wall in front of us. "Holy shit," I said excitedly, earning a chuckle from her and the tall male. When I turned to watch him, he already had his hands outstretched toward the lights, making them flicker (which should've been impossible considering how old the house is) and then surging them so much that they exploded. I smiled widely. "So," I started excitedly, "electricity and ice manipulation?"
"More creation than manipulation," the girl said, "but yes. I'm Ashley, and this is Dallon. We met when we were kids, but we just recently got our powers."
"What can you do," Dallon cut in, sticking his hands in his pockets shyly.
I looked around briefly before turning back to them. "Either of you have a lighter?" Ashley reached into her backpack, pulling out a simple black lighter and I smiled. "Light it."
She did as I said and I lifted my hand above the flame, practically pulling it out of the lighter until it was a ball in my hands, which I threw at the wall Ashley had recently frozen. I turned back to them to see them both smiling excitedly. "Pyrokinetic," Ashley said happily. "Awesome."
October 2017
Flash forward four years, we are now juniors in high school and we've yet to meet anyone else like us. And trust me, we've looked. Together, we learned how to control our powers and make sure that none of us got a big head over what we could do.
About a month into the new school year, we got a new student - Brandon or something like that. I hadn't seen him yet, but Ashley immediately started gushing about how cute he is, telling me I should take my chance on him before someone else does.
I touched her arm and burned her for that.
About a week after he showed up, I passed by the library to see him sitting at a table by himself. I stopped and watched him, smiling softly. Ashley was right, he's really fucking cute. Just before I walked away, I saw him go to pick up one of his books and drop it, but before it hit the ground, he held out his hand and stopped it in midair, making it hover just a few inches off the ground.
My mouth hung open and brows furrowed as I watched him look around the library before levitating the book back to the table. I quickly rushed down the hall, coming to lean against a row of lockers as I let out a stream of air.
"Holy shit."
* * *
//a/n: HoLy HeCk HeRe We Go!!!1!!!11
Alé here! I hope you guys like this so far! Things will get funnier with only pinches of angst as the story goes along, so I hope you guys are ready for this wILd RiDE that Izzy and I are about to drag you on! As Izzy put in the last author's note, she will be in charge of Brendon's (and whoever else's) POVs and I will be in charge of Ryan's (and whoever else's) POVs as the story progresses and more characters are introduced! //
All the love -
Alé