Pyro

The grey town was now covered in white.
The air was frigid, allowing the smoke from the chimneys and my breaths to be visible.

No sign of Pyro today – or for the past six days to be exact.

I lay onto the ice-covered grass, staring up at the white sheet of clouds above.
My mind started to trace back to the day Marco accused Pyro.

Maybe it is a coincidence, but it still doesn’t give him a right to just accuse someone like that.

But, what if…?

I shook that thought away.

It was apparent that Marco and Pyro aren’t fond of each other.
Marco could have just accused Pyro out of detest.

He’s quick to accuse and he's untrustworthy, right?

That was Pyro’s opinion of him, however.

I ran a hand through my hair.

What do I feel about this?
Who do I think it is?

I don’t want to accuse anyone, right now.

I closed my eyes, only to face the image of Pyro’s bone-chilling smile.

Why?
What makes it appear?

Why is it so unsettling?

A scream echoed through the air, causing me to open my eyes.
I sat up when the familiar scent of smoke followed after.

Orange.
Brighter and larger than before.

I stood up and rushed down the hill, quickly making my way to the light.

The crowd was larger than the ones before; some people knelt down next to two women who were on their knees, crying. I turned my attention towards the large orange light that was growing uncomfortably hotter.

A two-story house, completely engulfed in flames, melting the snow around it.

Beautiful, yet destructive.

I swallowed thickly and stepped back a bit, feeling something under my foot.
I moved it to reveal a small box, covered a bit in snow.

However, the Russian script was still apparent.

“No…”

I knelt down and picked it up, dusting off the snow.

There were matches inside – one of them rested next to my foot in the snow, as if someone dropped it in a hurry.

He couldn’t…could he…?

“No.”

He left the box in the café.

Then how? How did it get here?

The sound of sirens blared through the air, coming closer.
I quickly shoved the box into my pocket and left the scene, an uneasy feeling washing over me.

//πυρ//

I found myself in the café, nervously sipping my coffee.

Why I am here, I don’t know.

I just needed to get away.

“Are you okay, Alessandro?”
I looked up to see Giov, standing behind the counter, cleaning a glass cup.

No.
I stole evidence from a crime scene – I’m sure that’s illegal.

“Yeah…I’m fine.”
“There was another fire today.”
“I heard.”

A moment of silence.

“I’m sure Marco had a lot to say about it.”
“Actually, he didn’t show up today. He probably became sick from the weather.”

I finished my coffee without another word and was about to take my leave.
But first…

“Giovanni.”
“Hm?”

“Did you happen to see a match box left here? My friend has been looking for it.”
“No, I’m afraid not.”

“Okay…Thank you.”

I stepped into the cold and made my way to my apartment room, closing the door behind me and locking it.
I took my shoes off and sluggishly made my way to my bedroom.

“Bad day?”

I froze and looked up to see Pyro sitting on the edge of my bed.

“How did you…?”

He shushed me and held out his arms towards me.
I slowly stepped towards him; he didn’t hesitate to pull me closer.

“Why so quiet today?”
I took out the match box and held it out to him.

“You left it in the café…but I found it lying in the snow near today’s fire.”

He stared at it blankly before he took it from me and placed it on the bed.

“What were you thinking, Alessandro?”
He unzipped my jacket and slipped it off, letting it drop to the floor. Then, he worked on the buttons of my shirt.

“It’s bad to steal from a crime scene, naughty boy.”

He smirked before he placed a kiss to my stomach.

“Where did you go…?”

Fingers on the button of my jeans.

“Why? Did you miss me?”

I didn’t answer as he slid my jeans to my ankles.
He licked his lips as his eyes scanned me from head to toe.

“You didn’t answer my question…”
“I just needed to get away for a bit. Sorry if I made you worry.”

He moved so that his body was fully on the bed, back against the head board.
I straddled him and placed my hands on his shoulders to steady myself.

“I was looking forward to this when I came back.”

He placed a hand on the back of my neck and kissed me.
I helped him take off his shirt, studying the features of this torso.

Burn marks and scars.

“Where did you get these from…?”

I gently traced the scar on his collarbone.

“I’ve had these for a while now.”
He showed me the marks on his arms as well.

“Back then, I found pleasure in burning myself.”
“But, the marks on your torso…?”

He shook his head.

“I’d rather not talk about it. Not now.”

No smirk. No bone-chilling smile.
No smile of any kind.

I pressed a kiss to a burn mark on his chest, earning a warm smile from him.
But it faltered soon after.

“I want you to understand, but I’m afraid you won’t…No one had understood before.”

“Understand what?”
He shook his head again, bringing his lips to my neck and sliding his hands to my thighs.

He didn’t start those fires, I’m sure of it.

No accusations, still. Not now.