#*forest fires

some say the world will end in fire some say in ice from what i've tasted of desire i hold with those that favour fire

the city is loud at night and it's nothing like the quiet whispers through an overabundance of trees that he once grew used to when he slept in the halls of xavier's school for the gifted ( and sometimes he misses it ).  it's nothing like the gentle breathing of roommates and solitude in the almost silence with nothing but the moonlight pooling on his bed to cast shadows in the room.  the city is so much different from what he knew.  at night now, he hears sirens wailing and screams, loud laughter in the streets as people pass by in too drunk steps to see straight.  but somehow, he finds this comforting even still -- it's a different sense of solitude that he feels now, because outside his window is all the chaos of the world and joonmyun is locked inside a tall tower painted neutral tones and bare bones.  the sounds of the city at  night become radio noise that he can't tune out, so instead it becomes a backdrop to his thoughts during what he wishes he could call repose.  instead, it's a soundtrack for all the things that keep him up at night.

things like that night in busan when he let a little boy die no matter how hard he tried ( and he tried so hard, he did; but joonmyun only knows how to ruin things he touches and this is no different -- .  and he knows he should stop thinking this way because this is survivor's guilt at its finest but ) the paper lantern he set off into the sky while clutching wounds doesn't make him feel any better because joonmyun remembers.  he's reminded every time he lifts his shirt, sees the battle wounds that have long since healed but left their scars seared deep into his flesh.  it's an ugly reminder that he is not enough, and that he never was.  the scars are ugly to remind joonmyun that he is ugly.  so he covers them up with long sleeves and too many layers for the springtime air that's settling over the city, making the trees blossom in their readiness to birth leaves of green.  like everything else, joonmyun covers it all up with a smile and squared shoulders; he pretends there's nothing wrong when he tries to help his ten a.m. schizophrenic or the drug addict that comes in at noon.  and while he believes that they can get better, joonmyun wonders what help he'll really be in the long run.  he is the most pessimistic of optimists with all the memories of choices he's made played back like a series of polaroids in his mind.    

keys hit the kitchen table with a clatter when he walks in and joonmyun looks at an empty house with bare walls.  he covers his face with his hands because this is quite possibly the loneliest he's ever been, surrounded by nothing and no one but this -- this is what he deserves, after all.  he deserves nothing, so he gets nothing.  the background noise of the city is no different tonight; not when he was walking home and it's certainly no different now as it drifts up from the streets into his tall window. light from the moon and the glow of the nightlife leave snatches of shadow on the floor.  and it isn't the first time that he's wondered and he's thought about the future.  he's still not sure what he's doing here.

it's somewhere in between the self pity and the screeching of tires that foretell a crash when he hears it.  a soft clatter on the rooftop just before a collision and this is probably funny timing; something wild that brings destruction in its wake.  this sound is something that doesn't belong to the noise of the city that he's learned night after night in its pseudo darkness.  he decides that it's something .. well, strange; because it sounds like feet walking high above him, pacing as if unsure.  and somehow he worries first about the policy against mutants and who would be dumb enough to fly at a time like this.  then, six years of training kick him into high gear, make him stiffen with adrenaline pumping through his veins and narrow eyes as he looks up at the ceiling.  there would be no reason for someone to land on his roof in the dead of night.  kim joonmyun has no one; abandoned them to live a solitary life because that is what he deserves.  and although kim joonmyun may want to die ( a secret that's saved for three a.m. with tears on his cheeks ), he doesn't deserve the endless space of dark that comes with it.  he suffers, and he survives.  this is something, sometimes he thinks it's the only thing, that he knows how to do.

with a quick beating heart and a heavy look in his eye, joonmyun pushes open the window with a force that he doesn't mean simply because he's brought back to the tragedy almost two months before and he's not ready for another one of those nights.   he leans out, looks down at the stories below and he doesn't really notice just how far he's pushed himself.  all he thinks about is how easy it would be to fall; it's something that occurs to him in the moment of adrenaline -- but a voice from above stops him mid -thought, makes him freeze and slowly tilt his head up because this is an all too familiar voice.  it's one that plays over and over in his head over phone lines and saved voicemails telling him to come by.

" don't fall, extractor.  i might not catch you." 

the words are a lie because char would never let him fall.  he looks up at the roof, swallows and tries to imagine all the ways his mind could be playing tricks on him.  he hasn't slept in weeks; this could be wishful thinking and hallucination playing with him but joonmyun chooses to believe.  his voice comes out hoarse, and he knows he's too emotional when he whispers char's name and says, " what in the world are you doing here?" a beat passes, and " you know i'm not extractor anymore, char." in his mind, he says i'm no one.  char makes a face but doesn't respond to that remark and joonmyun thinks it was probably the wrong thing to say.  everything is probably the wrong thing to say and this situation is too wrong, and it's all his fault for abandoning char in the first place.  this is not the reunion he expected -- to be frank, joonmyun never expected a reunion -- meeting on rooftops and window sills with beating hearts and the nervous clutching of his hands.  but the world is spinning and char is smiling with white teeth and mischief in his eyes.  it makes joonmyun want to smile, too.

so he does.

char speaks and joonmyun listens, attentive and careful as always because that is who he is.  " you didn't come by like i told you, so i came to find you." and with these words, joonmyun's mind is brought back to the voicemail left on his phone, one that he replays over and over again in the middle of the night when he tries to sleep only to toss and turn instead.  he doesn't know why char went to the effort, but this is something like forgiveness for betrayal and joonmyun can't help but take a shaky breath.  and char is so matter of fact that he doesn't question it, even if he wants to.  char has always done what he wanted to, anyway.

" i'm so sorry." the words slip out before he can process what he's saying, but it's the truth and joonmyun only lies to hide things.  this is something that he doesn't need to hide.  and he knows that char is hurt by the look in his eyes even though his lips are smiling that too -wide smile -- this is tough for him, too.  but the fact that he doesn't leave, that he came in the first place is kickstarts something in joonmyun's heart that he can't exactly put a finger on.  char says nothing in reply, but joonmyun thinks that it's okay.  maybe, just maybe, they'll be okay.  

he gives pause and they sit in comfortable silence for a moment before joonmyun looks at char with nervous eyes and an even more nervous smile with an invitation in.  he wonders if char can see the differences in his smiles now, because he purses his lips but this could just be contemplation --.  but joonmyun knows that the younger man is wanted, and he knows what hunts them.  joonmyun knows many truths.  sometimes he wishes that he didn't so he could go back to being that naive little boy he was before his mutation woke at fifteen.  char, at least, accepts with a snort and a roll of his eyes -- a mutter of, " it's about time" reaches joonmyun's ears and the nervous smile turns into one of amusement.

" if you wanted to come in, all you had to do was ask." char just gives him a look and joonmyun doesn't say anything else, the amusement clear upon his lips and by the twinkle in his eye.  he just makes way as the younger man climbs in through his window, and then he says, " next time, feel free to use the door." char scoffs, and joonmyun shuts the window behind him locks it tight and he wonders how long that this will last.

" i wanted to drop by in style." char is like a whirlwind; a flurry of dancing flames and he infects joonmyun with his unpredictability -- before he knows it, he's caught up in the wonder and laughing.  he can't be sure when the last time he heard the sound of his own laugh and the action catches him by surprise, makes him stop and blink and look down in apology.  he doesn't miss the way char's eyes bore holes into his skin, like he's looking through; like he sees all the things that he's thought for months.  but he says nothing and joonmyun is grateful, though he can almost hear the taunting words in the back of his skull.  you're too noisy.  it's a small act of kindness, and char is joonmyun's saving grace.  

joonmyun doesn't know how they end up in his bed.

this is something natural for them though; at least, that's what he tells himself -- because their nights together before when they were assigned as roommates always ended up the same way.  joonmyun realizes you never really know how much you can miss something until it's gone.  char falls asleep as quickly as he always does after murmuring something about the comfort of his mattress and something else that he can't hear.  joonmyun wouldn't know.  he's hardly touched it since he moved in, but they're together now and maybe, he thinks, it's not as cold or as big as he once thought.  he brushes hair away from char's closed eyes like that first night a long, long time ago in winter when fire wrapped him up in a tight embrace and left him reeling.  but, he thinks, that's what a brushfire is; it's unexpected but it's necessary, cleans out the old and paves the way for something new to grow and flourish in its wake.  and it's then that he realizes that he needs someone like wildfire.  

joonmyun's fingertips linger on char's skin for far longer than he means to and he's most certain that if the younger man knew, he'd be chastised.  but this is something that he can't help; char falls into his life in the times that he needs him most and joonmyun has only just realized the blessing in disguise.  he's almost in wonder as he stares, as his fingers absently travel soft and burning skin.  because char is like the forest fire that he needs, wild and untameable and free; he cleanses, purifies and doesn't even realize the effect his actions cause.  he smiles because when his fingers brush the sleeping man's cheek, arms tighten their hold around his waist and this is not so different from before but it's still completely new.  this time speaks of forgiveness, and joonmyun's heart almost breaks as his eyes fill up with grateful tears he tries not to shed.   he needs char a lot more than he'll ever voice in words.  a phone call at three in the morning as he was pressed up against his dresser proved that.  with a passing thought, he wonders if that was what spurred all of this on.

" thank you." is what he whispers in char's ear and the pyro shifts in response, as if he could hear in the deepest stage of sleep.  a watery smile crosses his face and he's overcome.  it's sometime around one in the morning that his lips brush against a warm cheek with the intention of 'sleep well' in his mind but something tearing at his heart, desperate to be known.  this is a feeling that he'll dwell upon another day; he's so tired and char is so warm with arms heavy on his waist and legs intertwined with his own.  so joonmyun settles back onto his pillow, closes his eyes and dreams of feathered wings taking flight.