Burn Bright ×Maxian×

1

[Song: Burn Bright by My Chemical Romance]

The city lights shined bright in contrast to the night sky. My hair was long overgrown and he was overdue for a shave, but those were our last concerns in this moment. Well unless you're me, then you'll pick up on small details at inconvenient times. Details like specks of dust that had overtaken his glasses or how I must've grown since the last time I wore this shirt, hopefully I can get new clothes soon because I really need them.

"Max pay attention," Ian ordered as he handed me the box of matches. I took the box and held like it was a priceless possession, when in reality it was a cheap piece of cardboard holding flammable devices.

Ian grabbed the last remaining gas can and poured its contents out onto the floor of the building in a pattern that only he would recognize. I've tried time and time again to grasp the fully significance of it but I've never been able to identify it exactly.

He ended the trail right at my feet, as he always has. I opened the matchbox and took out one match. I looked it over, making sure there was nothing wrong with it, before striking it against the side of the box and causing it to light instantly. I've gotten rather good at lighting matches over the years.

I dropped the match and took a step back, watching the fire fuse with the gasoline in a deadly dance. I could only watch for a second before we had to leave, I don't think I'd enjoy being on fire.

"You need to pay more attention when we do this," Ian scolded.

"My shirt is too small," I responded.

"What?" Ian asked in confusion. In response, I held up my arms so he could see how the shirt revealed my stomach and didn't fully cover my arms like it used to. "I'll get you new clothes if you promise to stop growing."

"I can't stop growing, Ian," I sighed.

I must have rolled my eyes without the realization, Ian doesn't like when I do that. "Don't be such a teenager, Max. You know money's tight and clothes aren't the easiest to find.

"I know," I looked down, feeling for bad bringing up the clothes now.

"It's okay, Max," Ian assured. "We've made it this long, we can keep it up."

I believed him. Ian's always taken care of me. He's the only family I have and I'm glad for it. My real family wanted nothing to do with me anyway. They just left me out and where anyone could come and get me, who does that? What kind of parents abandon their kid in the middle of the city?

Ian grabbed my arm to get me to start walking, knowing I'd once again fallen a prisoner to thought.

The walk back to our apartment was quiet, the only sounds were that of the city. You could hear the sirens of the fire engines in the distance, going to clean up the mess that we made. I wouldn't call it a mess though. Ian calls it dangerous art, I call it the only I've mastered in this world.

I may be sixteen years old but the only thing I know how to do is start fires and do whatever else Ian asks me too.

Ian holds the door to our building open for me. I walk inside and take in the musty air. The first area is a small place where you can either go to the bottom apartments or the top ones, the walls were caked with years of dirt and grime, the floor would squish under your feet, and the few lights were missing half their bulbs.

Our apartment was upstairs, it was the top floor (which was only the third). There were four apartments on each floor, ours was the back right. It was small but it was home. When you first walk in, there's an open area where we have our couch and small tv set; the first thing on the right is the cramped kitchen, which never has food; the first door on the left is Ian's room, which only has a bed and his closet; the second right door is the bathroom; at the very end of the hallway is my room.

My room is the first place I go when we get inside, hoping to find a fitting shirt. Ian turns on the tv in the living room and sits on the couch to watch.

Most of our fires are big enough to be broadcasted on the news, which is the only reason we actually have the tv. Ian likes to admire his handy work. I don't care for the news all that much. Sometimes when Ian leaves me alone, I watch whatever I find interesting. I learned most of what I know that way.

There's many times when I end up watching shows about families. Their antics always make me laugh. I just wish I could have something like that. Don't get me wrong, I love Ian, but I just wish I had parents and siblings even to enjoy.

I find a shirt that was always big on me and put it on. It fits perfectly. I sigh and walk out to Ian, taking a seat next to him and placing my head on his shoulder. He pushed a few strands of hair out of my face for me before resting his hand on my shoulder.

"I think we should invest in a haircut," Ian states.

"I don't need it that bad," I disagree. "And I don't really need the clothes, I'll manage."

"It's okay to need things, Max," Ian says. "We can always get more money."

"I don't want you to waste your money though," I tell him.

"It's not a waste if it's something you need." I could tell he wanted me to stop arguing with him at that point so I just kept my mouth shut and nodded. "We'll go somewhere tomorrow."

"Thank you."

My eyes closed, tired from another taxing day. I was ready to sleep right then and there. Ian might not let me, he'll probably tell me to get up and go to my own bed. But I can't fight it, I drift off quickly.

I wake up to the feeling of my body being moved. Ian carries me to bed and tucks me in, locking me into the feeling of safety and security. I feel him watch me for a while, a long while. By the time he finally leaves, I'm nearly back to sleep again and it's not longer after he leaves that I do sleep.