× Fire × MINSUNG × [CANCELED]

ONE

Pyromaniac. Someone who loves to set fires — and, for whatever reason, can't stop setting them — is a pyromaniac. This is different from an arsonist, who sets fires for money. Pyromaniacs just set fires because they want to and feel a compulsion to. Pyromania is a sickness.

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Lee Minho lit a match. He watched as the fire burst and sizzled down the stick. It touched his hand, burning it. But he didn't care. He lit another one. He loved the way the fire pulsed with every shallow breath he sent its way. He loved the way the fire reflected in the mirror he sat in front of. He loved the way the fire reflected off his eyes. He loved the fire. He loved the way the fire devoured the stick, turning it to nothing but ash. He struck another stick along the box, lighting it ablaze. He loved the way the fire stayed flaming as he dropped it swiftly on the floor, watching spread. He loved the way the fire sent sparks all over the place. He loved the way the fire danced, like his own moves, but more delicate and delightful. He loved watching the fire grow as it licked up his walls, traveling to the ceiling. he loved the heat. He loved the way his lungs burnt.

Just outside, Han Jisung walked up the driveway, hoping to hang out with his friend. What he found was horrific. The house had been set on fire. There was screaming and maniac-like laughing. Jisung rushed to the front door. He pulled his hoodie sleeve over his hand and quickly pushed open the door. He saw Mrs. Lee on the floor, face red and her hands around her throat. He picked her up and moved her outside. Jisung heard a male scream, the laughing hadn't stopped. He rushed into the living room and saw Mr. Lee on the floor, unconscious. Jisung went to grab him but he was too heavy.

Jisung started to get low on air and went outside for a quick breath. He looked at the house. It had gotten worse. He then remembered his friend.

He rushed up the falling wooden stairs and into the hot hallway. There was more smoke up here, but Jisung didn't care. He needed Minho. His best friend.

He kicked down a flaming door and saw Minho sitting crisscrossed on the floor with a sickening grin on his face. He was centimeters away from the scalding hot mirror. He went up to touch it. His fingers grazing the glass.

His smile widened, if even possible. His eyes held craze in them. His eyes widened as his skin touched the glass. He pressed both of his hands on the glass and pushed until the mirror broke. Jisung couldn't move. He stood staring at his crazed friend.

He didn't move, he couldn't. He was stuck in place watching as his best friend burned and melted his skin against the scalding hot glass. Suddenly he was dragged out of the house. He heard screaming and then silence.

The Battalion Chief stood beside Mrs. Lee. Mr. Lee was being put into an ambulance and Minho was being dragged out of the house. You could see his hands. They were blistered and bleeding, cuts on them from the glass. It was raw and sticky looking. The hair on his arms and legs had singed off. His clothes had burnt and you could see some parts of his skin were blistered.

His lips were chapped from the lack of air and his skin was slightly paler. Jisung watched as his friend was put into an ambulance.

The firefighters turned on the hoses and Jisung watched as his friend's horrific creation was put out and replaced by destroyed and burnt wood. Jisungs eyes were set on where Minho's room used to be. The mirror still stood, the cracks evident from such a distance.

He looked around and saw the neighbors had gathered and begun doing their gossiping. He saw a familiar head of hair and rushed over.

"H-Hyunji-jin!" Jisung managed to gurgle out. His eyes began to sting and his throat ran dry. Hwang Hyunjin hugged his friend, offering him his support. He stared down at the younger, his hair hid by a slightly burnt hat.

"Jisung, are you okay? Would you like to talk about it." Jisung nodded his head shakily, making a sound of utter pain. The boys walked away, the crying boy leaning on his one and only pillar of support that was left.

They made their way to Hyunjins house painfully slow. Jisung couldn't get Minho's inhumanly wide smile out of his head. Minho's eyes had held a new sense of craze at that time. He looked like a complete maniac. His eyes wide, like spoons we're holding them open. His wide smile sickening.

Hyunjin looked down at the boy he stabilized. He looked faint, Hyunjin noticed. He pulled harder on Jisung, trying to get him to move.

They got inside and Jisung flung himself onto his friend's couch, happy to be sitting. He watched as Hyunjin exited the room, leaving the traumatized boy alone.

Jisung looked around the room. He studied his surroundings. He looked at baren spot on the wall and saw a flame lick over the spot. His eyes grew wide as he saw the whole room was engulfed in flames. He shut his eyes and sat up, burrowing his head into his knees, hugging them close.

"Jisung! Are you okay? Here's water." Hyunjin sat next to Jisung. He looked at the younger solicitously. He put a hand on his shoulder and watched as the boy jumped. He slowly massaged his shoulder as Jisung looked around the room.

Jisung felt uneasy as he looked around. His eyes focused on different things. There wasn't a burn mark on anything in the room. He looked at Hyunjin's hand and saw blisters and cuts. He watched as the blood-drenched his shirt. His eyes grew wide to the size of dinner plates. He shot up from his seat and looked back down at his shoulder. There was nothing. No blood. He examined Hyunjins hand. Nothing. Nada. Absolutely nothing.

He looked up at Hyunjin and stumbled back, hitting his back against a hard wall. He slid to his knees and cried.

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WORD COUNT: 1053

I am very proud of this story. I am also very excited. I am trying to use descriptive words to make is more ominous, as this is a horror fan fiction. Or it is supposed to be. I don't know how it's going so far. I take constructive criticism so please, tell me what I can fix or if I made any mistakes!