"Life is too ironic to fully understand.
It takes sadness to know what happiness is.
Noise to appreciate silence.
And absence to value presence."
In which a Kleptomaniac, Sadist, and Nerdy College Student find each other in the dead of night.
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"Too often the only escape is sleep"
He was intoxicated by fire.
The way little flames would dance across any surface, almost seeming as if there was a war between the embers and sparks of heat, burning any surface to a crisp and leaving the enticing smell of ash behind. The way flickers of lights could change from a piercing blue to an angered red in an instant. Almost seemingly unnatural by how easily the colors could dance within one another, alluringly, as if begging for someone, something, to be destroyed beneath the crackling sounds admitted from the tiny waves of heat growing bigger within seconds. It was shocking really, how much turmoil a little beacon of light could cause, the uproar of distress and terror it could bring in its wake. The light's red haunted glow pierces through your skin, like the red glow of a demon's pupils tracking your every move, willing, persuading you to make a mistake. As if you were playing a game with Satan himself when you flicker a lighter on and off, hearing the distinct click notifying you of the luminescent hazard you now possessed between your fingertips. You could be the game master, watching as the orange, red, yellow, blue and purple gleams fought for dominance between one other, fighting viscously. Yearning to be the main color represented behind a shield of heat masked from the world because of the danger it carried. Just as quickly you could become the puppet, forced to gaze upon the raging fire as it burns down structure after structure, teasing anyone who dares come near enough to touch it. Like the flames had minds of their own, knowing the havoc they caused and feeling the urge to claim more, eating up anything it's path crossed with.
All of this was exciting, riveting, desirable in his eyes. Orbs projecting nothing but want, need, within the confining walls of black retinas and hazel pupils. You would think something this treacherous would come at a price, not reachable for the average human. Yet you could find the light of destruction at your local convenience store, trapped between metal walls of any color you wish for. A questionable decision for any sane person to make. Why give this type of power to anyone, knowing that it could be twisted and manipulated in a way to cause chaos. Letting people sit back in horror as they witnessed the angered flames reach the sky and scratch the invisible boundary known as Heaven. Milky white clouds torn apart by red and orange glints as it eats up the earth below it. Deadly gasses consume the air, wrapping around people's airways, closing their tubes and blocking their oxygen supply. The cancerous poison attaching itself to the air people need for survival and slowly dimensioning the population one by one. Tamed only by brutal force and drastic measures, hardly contained after three days of an endless battle. Something about this knowledge improved his lust for the substance known as fire. Temptation latching onto his arms and legs, pulling him forward to the match box sitting on his paper heavy desk concealed in a dimly lit corner of the room. The moon's transparent glow leaking from the open window providing the only form of light within the small space the boy called his bedroom. The sheer illumination showcasing different school forms and a halfway closed silver computer. All of which scattered around the desk in an artistic mess, looking as if the person had involuntarily placed the papers in such a way to highlight the glory of sporadic disarray. The boy sat on the side of his bed, headphones limply hanging from his neck as the cord was stretched out behind him, connecting to the socket of a medium sized phone. The boy's toes barely grazed the carpeted floor while he sat in a hunched position with his shoulders up and back slouched, hands bracing the bed frame to hold him upright. His hazel gaze fell upon the slightly viewable white and red match box hidden behind stacked textbooks. An unknown force seemed to guide the two together although they were still many meters apart.
Taehyung's gaze was filled with wonder and confusion. Weird enough, he had never owned a match box or lighter in his life. In his case, he had always been the puppet, forced to watch. Watching as the news covered different segments on wildfires to industrial explosions. He'd sit up late at night fantasising about the way flames weaved between one another, none being completely the same as the next. The way they could move as individual objects yet inevitably come together as one, syncing their moments to the hiss of the wind and rustling of trees. Sometimes he would even translate these thoughts onto snowy white canvases. Using a multitude of colors to try and capture the graceful yet harse movements flames expressed. So that leads him to the question, 'How?'. How did the match box get there in the first place. It was purposefully placed so that if you were unfamiliar with the area, you would never spot it. Meant for only one person to find, the owner of the room. Someone who continuously visited the bedroom, knowing when something was out of place because the person was aware of his possessions and their placements throughout the room.
Taehyung lifted his body off the bed, making his way towards the match box. Steps portraying hesitation as they were slow and un-deliberate. He felt the need to touch it, to use the power of fire. Something in the back of his head was telling him no. Telling him to turn away from the object and walk out of the room. His subconscious was screaming at him, different voices ringing through his mind, ripping through his thoughts in different forms of protest. Taehyung felt possessed, his legs moved without his brain fully registering the movement.
Suddenly, his steps stilled. Taehyung almost felt like an outsider. Watching as his body moved not through his eyes, no, through someone else's. As if he was a second person present in the room and was watching from their perspective. A circle of fire engulfed him, surging from the carpet beneath his feet and dangerously closing in on him. However, the silver haired male wasn't scared. His body was paralyzed from the outside, yet from the inside his thoughts were in a frenzy. One quote stood out to him in particular, as if he had personally picked it and instilled it in his brain.
"This is no regular dream. No...It's a warning, a warning of all your nightmares coming true by choices you have yet to make and people you are destined to encounter."
