Why did everything about today’s algebra class make Aiden want to burn something? Usually he only got that urge when walking past the chemistry lab. Just thinking about the myriad chemical reactions that could start the most beautiful thing in the world made the urge to start his favorite reaction. Maybe if something was on fire like the board, or the podium, but only when the professor was using them. Might make him stop talking, maybe.

Aiden looked at the clock, thirty minutes remained. He didn’t notice himself nodding off, but he did feel his head smacking into the table. It hurt. No one noticed the noise, as if it would have mattered. He was teetering on a fifty nine percent or so. He had to pass this class to keep his scholarship, and out of trouble with his ‘loving’ parents, but if he didn’t get out of there someone was going to burn. Aiden wouldn’t mind if he wasn’t 18. The stone walls of prison would not agree with him or his beautiful fire. He packed his bag and rushed out of the classroom. No one was awake enough to see anything, not that it would have made a difference. Not with his luck.

The building felt deserted. There weren’t any security cameras in this building and the chemistry wing was just a hop skip and away. Perhaps he should make that fantasy a… no, he couldn't. The doors screamed in protest as Aiden barreled into them, eager to leave.

Sprinting for all he was worth Aiden fought to put the image of the building, the fuel glistening in the light. The system fighting the clogging miasma formed by unstable chemicals. He smacked himself.

“I can’t relapse now. Not until probation is over,” he said. He had five years to go until he was free to move as he pleased. At least the wet spring prevented his urge from fostering too much outside. But the annoying voices of the other students enjoying the weather made it flair, best to hide in the dorm.

Back in the dorm room Aiden wanted to make something happen, but lacked the vigor. Thank you, algebra. He was too lazy to move the foot it would take to reach either the bed or couch, so he laid down on the floor. On the floor, he noticed the differences between the two sides of the dorm. His side was immaculate, if he said so himself, marred by the lighters and lighter fluid shoved under his bed and the Explosion War XXIII poster above his bed. Compared to Steven’s dirty laundry, amongst other items, thrown about, or shoved back across to, his side of the room. The longer he laid there the more attractive the idea of setting a fire became, reading wouldn’t stop this. He knew that anything would do at this point, but that it made things worse in the end. But, what if this time was different it had worked before, in Gregorian High. Or did it? He remembered hating school which was nothing new but what else?

Nothing happened there. School was a waste of his time. He bit back a growl how could he have been so stupid. All he had to do was keep his mouth shut for thirty more seconds and he would have been out of here. He wanted to burn something. There was a lighter in Aiden’s pocket. It had been dropped by a senior who was in a hurry. He was walking towards his next class when he pulled out his new lighter. Aiden clicked the lighter in front of his face and the fire flickered up. There wasn’t much fuel left. If he was cautious he could set a decent, campfire. He wished he could pull off a positively wicked grin. The librarian always complained that the place was a fire hazard.

He could be a little late, though if things worked out it wouldn’t matter. Aiden slipped into the library a grin on his face. He knew he would enjoy this. The librarian whose name he totally remembered was busy with another student, so Aiden walked to some random abandoned area of the library. He would have to try reading one of these things one of these days. the thought occurred to him that it might be handy to always have a ready supply of fire starter.

Book in hand he ducked behind the shelves and ripped out a few pages of the book and crumpled them stuffing the book into his bag. This should be epic. He fought the urge to laugh as he fiddled with the lighter to leak out a small amount of his limited fuel into the crumpled paper. He paused before he lit the fire, might as well learn the name of the fire starter he’s using. Huh, no title. Oh well. Two clicks later and the ball of pages was alight. It mesmerized him, curling and crumpling the ball further shifting as the air moved with the heat wave.

“Beautiful,” Aiden said. before the fire died he rushed to stick in the shelves, the other books hiding as much of the light as they could while not suffocating the flame.

“Aiden? What are you doing back here?” the librarian turned around the corner. He hadn’t heard her. She looked suspicious and if he thought about it she had a reason to be. he never entered the library without being forced to.

“Oh, you know. Just wanted to see what this reading thing was all about.” He said. He knew she didn’t buy his excuse. Aiden wondered if she would let him go, he was mistaken. She shook her head.

“Come on then, we can fish out the real reason with the principal.” He had to think of a lie and fast.

He hadn’t been in the office for five minutes when the alarm went off. Of course, fire drills were efficient for a reason after all.

“Outside. I’ll make sure there aren’t any other stragglers.” The principal gestured to the door and went the opposite direction. Aiden wasn’t nervous, and it wasn’t like he could be tied to the scene of the crime or anything. the smoke was visible from the outside, and he could hear the sirens of the closing response teams. Aiden’s blood started to pump. This would be delightful.

Part of his rehabilitation involved reading, who knew it was so addicting. It, it was like watching a movie, but you could hear the characters’ thoughts. It was fascinating.

His parents didn’t take the news of their son being a, oh how did the moron put it, paranoid schizophrenic suffering an inadequacy complex with delusions of grandeur resulting in uncontrolled bursts of pyromanic and kleptomanic tendencies. The quacks they hired at the hospital were a unique breed of stupid to be sure. Though one suggestion worried him. How would his parents act as his high school teachers. He knew, but he didn’t stop his hopeful wishing. Aiden preferred his later interpretation of that thought, how had he survived his parents as his high school teachers.

Was it worth it? Aiden still wasn’t sure. Gaze locked on the supplies Aiden reached for the items hand shaking when his wallet fell from where he had put it onto the back of his hand. A library card bounced out. Bhaltair was the one who sort of understood. Aiden, he could talk to his one friend instead. He always had a kind word ready for him when he entered that place. Aiden wanted to hang out with him so much so that the last time they spoke Aiden tried to ask the large Scotsman if he wanted to play “POSTAL” sometime, but had chickened out.

Aiden walked up to the ‘ancient’ faux wooden structure shivering with excitement or cold he didn’t know. Bhaltair usually worked on preserving the old texts in the basement. He took his gloves off and shoved them in his pockets. Moments later he pulled his hands out as if burned, heart going wild. Why did he bring the lighter? He didn’t want to hurt any of the innocent books. Fighting the feel of fire dancing and licking behind his eyelids he sprinted past the tables with fake candles ‘burning’ so deliciously, bundles of sticks and leaves charred amongst them. Down the stairs covered in cheesy patriotic stars, sticks, and leaves, at the bottom he input asterisks, two, pound, four, six, asterisks. The basement was the ‘employee only’ section for new acquisitions and antique books, not that Bhaltair minded since He showed him the password himself. Bhaltair liked to work in the general office in the center. Walking to the cubicle in the center of the room Aiden found it empty of the usual occupant and refinements, save for a single book laying on the workstation. It had no title. The book was old and looked like it had survived a fire or two only to be claimed by time later. Aiden picked it up the thing reminded him of a memory from his childhood he must have been no more than a toddler at the time, curious.

He sat there watching. Watching the pretty light grow and shrink, it flickered like the tree did before this. Why his parents put it up he didn’t understand. They never stayed around long enough to enjoy it or anything.

He wanted to see it closer. Hypnotized he reached out to grab a branch that had fallen to the ground. It was crackling and more dark than bright. Was the light hiding inside the branch? He wanted to know. He heard the curtains crash next to him.

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He took his time to see if the light would react to him reaching for its house like his parents would. He was about to grab the branch, but the lights house was too hot. He had learned not to touch hot things. No matter how pretty they were. He started to pout.

The light was not bright anymore. He smacked the dying lights house against the floor. It broke into thousands of little lights. One of them scooted up to his foot. It was hurting him. He giggled and clapped, that made his parents stop. The light didn’t stop. Aiden scooted towards the door behind him. He heard something else crash, so he looked around. The pretty light was spreading. Aiden yawned. It would be nice to sleep with light. He didn’t like the dark. He used a story time thing with no pictures to keep his head off the floor, pretty lights were dancing along the edge of it too. He was happy, he didn’t have to sleep in the dark this time.

As he rested he saw another kid in the distance, holding the arm of a dolly. Sitting, staring at him and the tree. He couldn’t see much, but Aiden waved all the same. He smiled as he closed his eyes. Happy.

He learned that he had been rescued by a fireman when he was seven. His parents had heard the alarm and had left the back way they had sat there discussing plans with the neighbors after the fire department was called. Of course, they assumed the babysitter was still with him. She was responsible enough to get their ‘precious’ son out of the burning building.

“What are you doing here? You’re only supposed to be here if brought in by an employee,” Bhaltair said. startled, and scared about touching the book, Aiden spun around hiding his transgression behind his back. Bhaltair looked funny, unsettled.

“I needed to see a friend because, you know, I thought of you, and I remembered the code you showed me from when you brought me here last time,” he stuttered. He stepped closer, one hand behind his back to keep hold of the book the other forward showing his sincerity. Bhaltair ignored it. The man looked grim, did Aiden say something wrong? Aiden’s hand fell to his side, he wouldn’t show how much this hurt him. The man Aiden once thought of as his friend turned his back on the intruder, and said.

“I was never your friend, but considering your, issues, I'll give you five minutes ” that said Bhaltair walked back out of the cubicle. Why? What did he say? Wasn’t Bhaltair his friend? Or was it all a lie used to trick Aiden into making a fool of himself. Aiden waited until he heard the click of the door shutting behind Bhaltair.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry, sorry,” he whimpered long after his former friend had left. They won’t suspect you if you keep them laughing. He didn’t know why, but the phrase he lived by might have more than one use now. Aiden let the arm behind his back fall. His hand was limp, it allowed the book to fall, it startled him. He had to leave, but didn’t want to go up to the main floor yet, the best books that didn’t get picked often were down here after all. that a small voice whispered that old books burned best in the back of his head had no part in this decision. Besides he had a book to read.

After he picked up the book he let his feet wander the basement letting them decide where he would read his latest fuel… book not fuel. He didn’t know where he wound up though it was probably the fantasy section. Like his friendship with Bhaltair. The thought of the traitor made Aiden dizzy and removed the strength from his legs. He slumped against a bookshelf and let himself slide down to the floor. He noticed Tolkien on the shelf across from him. Aiden had to read.

It turned out the book he had found was about some average Joe who turned out to be destined to save magic itself. Aiden snorted, he was reading a fantasy book he found elsewhere in the fantasy section.

Magical races were dying off, some humans wanted to exterminate or enslave the rest their own period of inferiority forgotten. There was something about such stories that he kept returning to. Georgie and his sister Amerial, where did he remember that from, grew up in a small village… there were a few pages that were missing. Like they had been ripped out. Explains why it was in the cubicle… he used his magic wand combined with the scythe of the true death to rip asunder the demon lord that had bound the fount of magic to his own life force… as reward for saving the kingdom of elves he married the daughter of the elven king Aetheriunus, the princess Erebell. She was amongst the wisest of her kind having persuaded her father to cooperate with the races of man once the cataclysm started despite the events some were taking. Their union should usher in a new age of prosperity. That ending was a load of Malarkey. Well Aiden assumed it was the ending, the back half of the book was missing.

Too bad Amerial wasn’t real. she would understand his pain. She had less than a dozen lines dedicated to her throughout the book after all. And most of those were from when she was a kid trying to find her missing dolly. He understood her pain at being ignored by everyone, even her own brother when she tried to warn them of that sorceress’ trickery. He couldn’t help but think of his family and the way things went south after Gregorian High. He remembered where he had seen the name Amerial before. He was a kid, later got in trouble for being in a construction yard, he met the girl. Aiden chuckled at the idea of the Amerial from the book being the same girl he met when he was in middle school. He remembered the day well.

He had wandered about the neighborhood gravel crunched under his feet. School had let out for the summer and he was bored. The new house didn’t have a spot he could burn anything in peace. There was construction going on a few blocks from his house and Aiden hoped they had something fun there. Matches had grown boring anyway. He was a block away when he saw the opening, and it was right next to the construction yard too. It was a gate he didn’t remember having seen before. The gate was wide open and in between the posts on the ground was a book. Gravel sprayed, he would not get a second chance at something like this. He spared a second glance for the book. He saw no title, and the corner was charred. The yard was abandoned, Aiden wanted to giggle in excitement. He ran from spot to spot trying to find something he could burn the book with. He wanted to see the pretty lights again. If he saw the kid again maybe the two of them could play with the colors of fire.

Aiden passed underneath a collapsed beam into a grassy area, it looked like his parents’ yard. Surprised at how small the place was he thought that such a small area would no doubt have nothing that he would be interested in. At least he had something to burn. Now, how to get into the construction yard.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” He heard a girl ask. To his right he saw a girl in a dress for family photos holding a doll in both hands. She looked like she was holding a knife like they did in the movies.

“I’m Aiden. Just wandering around. Who are you?” He asked. He half turned around not expecting the girl to reply. No one did that. People didn’t talk to things like him.

“I’m Amerial. Nice t’ meet you Aiden,” she replied. Someone replied, she spoke to him. He spun around to get a good look at this strange new creature. His foot slipped and he went tumbling back beneath the beam. He threw out his arms, letting go of the book, trying to not fall. He failed. A construction worker caught him. He smelled funny, like when his father had dumped the vacuum cleaner bag. Aiden wondered if the dust on the guy would be as good for making the pretty lights as the stuff from the bag. The heat and colors were amazing, and he knew that if he sat there long enough he’d see all the colors in the rainbow.

“Whoa there. How’d you get in here little guy?” The man asked. He set Aiden down, but kept a hand on his shoulder while he tried to find the hole he had to patch up. Kid could have gotten himself killed in this place.

“I walked through a gate. It was open when I got here,” Aiden said. He knew he wasn’t supposed to pester people who knew more than he ever would, but he didn’t want the guy to see the girl in the neighboring yard and set her straight about talking to him. The adult took the bait. The gate was closed, and the book was gone.

“Now little guy. Mind telling me where your parents are?” The guy asked. Aiden grew nervous, nothing good ever came of someone talking to his parents, but he didn’t want him to see the girl behind the beam, so he pointed towards his parents’ house.

Aiden sighed, he knew thinking about what could never be would serve no purpose. However, sometimes just knowing something wasn’t enough. He wanted to leave so much it hurt. The pain formed in his chest not unlike a flame spreading across oil, or gas. Filling him like the fumes catching while the spread of the liquid kept the fire burning. The roasting of cloth, smell of burnt meat. Was father trying to barbecue again? Hot and floaty Aiden felt dizzy, he didn’t notice he had tipped sideways until his head clunked against the floor. Jarring the feeling of self-immolation from his body.

He couldn’t burn this, but he couldn’t take it with him because there would be no taking of a trophy. That got him in trouble last time. It may have been worth it though, but his opinion on that changed every other day. He learned to hide it early for a reason after all. He took a few minutes to make sure he was semi presentable. He didn’t want to look like he had been hurt. He needed to disappear. Being seen would not bode well for Aiden, and in his state anyone who knew of his past would be worried. Too worried.

Mindful to keep away from where he had found who he had thought to be a friend, no need in bringing up such a recent and painful memory, Aiden snuck his way towards the door leading out of the basement.

He didn't want to be here, not anymore. A little red, yellow, and black might convince him though, no he couldn't relapse. But the pages around him begged to be burned. His breathing grew heavier with each step. Fire, burn, fuel.

Eyes closed he sprinted up the stairs, get away. Bursting out of the doors at the top of the stairwell. Aiden supports his weight on his knees. It was just too much. Cold assaults his body, sweet relief from the sparks that begged to be formed and released from the lighter in his pocket. Spreading beauty wherever they landed. No. Aiden stood eyes still closed, deep breath in, hold, and out. Relax. A snowflake landed on his nose. Around him is not the library lobby, nor the surroundings of the library. Thatch rooftops. A castle in the distance. Amerial's castle. Aiden would recognize the look of that building anywhere.