300 words prompt request by @asideofsims:
“I got the call last night.”
Those six simple words changed it all. They lit a spark of brilliant fire in the eyes of the beautiful boy in front of me-- the flames, which I loved so much. His lips curled back on his face, like the smoldering edge of a burning piece of paper, pulling tighter into itself in a futile attempt to run from the combustion that threatened to consume it.
“She’s…. she’s coming home.”
“Th-that’s amazing, Levi,” my words expelled soft, and airy, like smoke into the room.
It was those flames that had originally drawn me to him, the golden tendrils reaching out, pulling me into their depths, damning me to this man forever. But as I watched his heart flood over the brim with love and warmth and light, entirely consumed and enamored by its effect, it felt like my own was splitting at the seams, the hairline cracks unable to withstand the oppressive, sweltering heat.
I knew what this meant.
It meant more than anything in the world to him. It meant a dismissal of the longing and grief that sat heavy on his shoulders. It meant something truly beautiful, which filled me with more happiness for him than I could contain, and moisture threatened to bead up along my lashes. But those flames also meant that he wouldn’t be coming with me. He couldn’t. In beautiful, tragic contrast, as he burned brighter and rose higher, like a phoenix reborn, it felt like my own light inside of my chest had been snuffed out.
And much like any fire does, I watched as it consumed him, molted him into something else entirely-- an even more incredible version of himself that would make it that much harder to say goodbye.
