★ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓: 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟗𝐭𝐡
synopsis: you might have a bounty on your back for the rest of the year, and undid all the healing you did over the weekend, but it's worth it.
pairings: Warren Peace/Stronghold!reader
warnings: descriptions of blood and injury, swearing?
word count: 10.0k
a/n: i loved writing this chapter, i hope you enjoy ♡ masterlist
“Come on, please?!” Zach begged as he followed you up the bleachers.
“Not happening,” you replied absentmindedly, waving to Layla as she motioned for you to sit next to her.
Zach has probably asked that exact question a million times since you got to school. He’s had this fantasy in his head since childhood; you and Will, destroying whomever got put up against you, in an amazing display of powers that you would win easily. You weren’t exactly happy to burst his bubble, but you weren’t going to encourage it either.
“What are you being annoying about?” Magenta teased as Zach literally put his foot down, irritated that you weren’t caving into his request.
“She’s not doing Save the Citizen!” he whined back, reflecting the behavior of a three year old as he gestured to you.
“Dude, she almost died three days ago, you’re actually insane,” Ethan deadpanned, disappointed as he tugged Zach by the arm to sit down.
You had to admit, despite your feelings about it, Save the Citizen was still fun. The gym was already abuzz with excitement as the first fight was warming up. The music they’ve been using to soundtrack the event since your dad walked these halls hummed low in the room, creating an almost movie-esc scene.
Will jogged up the bleachers as Boomer was announcing the first round, and even though his stupid fight was still fresh in your mind, you still smiled at him.
“Sorry, got caught up with Howlett,” he rushed out, returning your smile genuinely.
You were just glad he could still be bothered to sit with you and your friends. He embarrassed them enough with the whole thing Gwen did at lunch earlier that day, this was the least he could do, if you were being honest. But, his usual self was still shining through.
After Will got home the other night, you guessed he had enough time to think about what happened during his extremely long detention, because he apologized without your mom even berating him about it. She still let him have it regardless.
He said he was sorry over and over again, asked if you were okay, asked if you hated him. You didn’t, you didn’t think you ever could. You could tell that he felt horrible, and that was all you really needed to forgive him, anyway.
Despite the fights drawing the attention of everyone else in the room, Zach still bothered you, or the “Wonder Twins” as he started saying, about participating. Will just shook his head, his eyes trailing Lash and Speed tag teaming one of their fellow upperclassmen and flinging him across the room.
“Zach,” you said sharply, reaching into your pocket and nearly throwing the paper at his face. “My dad literally exempted me last week.”
His eyebrows furrowed as he read over the print out, rolling his eyes as he just handed it back to you.
“Will’s got me,” he whispered, patting Will’s shoulders with too much confidence.
Lash and Speed started pummeling their next set of opponents, your classmates cheering and clapping as the freshman they picked ran in fear, but your attention was far from their fight.
You tried to be as inconspicuous as possible as you looked for Warren amongst the crowd. You had an inkling that he might have skipped class, given his hesitancy about Save the Citizen before.
After a few seconds, you found him sitting alone, and it was as though there was a three foot forcefield around him. No one got too close, the sight still saddened you.
He was doing what he often did when he was zoning out; fingers laced together, drumming whatever song that was stuck in his head with his thumbs, nodding along to the beat and looking off at nothing. You kinda wanted to see what he looked like doing the real thing.
You hadn’t realized you were staring at him until his eyes met yours. Like he could feel that you were admiring him.
Immediately embarrassed, you darted your gaze to something else, but against your better judgement, it moved back to Warren a second later.
A sheepish smile spread on your face, and the corner of Warren’s lips twitched at the small wave that followed. It reminded him of the first time you two “met,” how you went completely against the version he had come up with prior. In the best way possible, of course.
He half wished you got up and sat with him, or that he had the courage to sit with you in the first place.
Just as he went to wave back, the reason he decided to sit alone grabbed your shoulder to bring you into the final countdown. Will was as eager as everyone else to rub in that Ramirez and Hamilton had failed to save their citizen.
Warren’s smile fell before it even formed.
As the final buzzer sounded through the gymnasium, you lazily cheered, drowned out by how excited everyone else was to watch a citizen dummy get mulched for the tenth time. Boomer recorded the result, probably the same exact thing for the last hour, then asked who Lash and Speed wanted to go up against next.
“Alright, we’ll take little Stronghold,” Speed goaded, smirking as he pointed in Will’s general direction.
“The guy, obviously,” Lash added, smug as the two of them laughed to themselves. You could feel the tension that filled Layla as she sat beside you, but you had her covered plenty.
“Go fuck yourself,” you shouted, cupping one of your hands by your mouth just to make sure Lash heard you. The laughs that erupted among your classmates assured you nearly as much as the smugness falling from Lash’s face.
“You’re just scared ‘cause she’d wipe the floor with your dumbass!” Zach yelled even louder, standing up to project his voice as far as possible. You loved that kid so much.
Will got up eventually, appreciating the encouragement you tried to give him before he got too far. After the laughing settled, Boomer asked Lash and Speed who they wanted their other opponent to be, doing a very poor job to cover up the wry smile on his face.
“We pick Peace,” Lash huffed, not as hyped as he was before.
Magenta crawled over the bleacher and took Will’s spot, sitting next to you with a grin.
“This should be interesting,” she commented, just loud enough for you to hear.
This was actually a fight that you’d watch, intently, and if you had to be honest with yourself, if they worked together, this combination could work really well against Lash and Speed. Working together would be the crucial thing, though.
After getting the not very effective suit and protective pads on, wearing someone else’s sweaty gear yet another reason why you didn’t want to participate, Will and Warren got the usual intro of being the Heroes. Will managed to wave at his “girlfriend” before anything got too serious, which you just rolled your eyes at.
Three minutes seemed so short on the countdown, but some people say it feels never ending in the moment.
The mulcher started grinding as Boomer yelled “BATTLE”, much too loud for his environment as always. Lash and Speed started in “The Pinball”, as they called it. They always began their fights with it, you weren’t sure why Will and Warren got flustered.
You felt a little bad when Will hit his jaw on the ground, which was probably more painful given his bruise was still lingering. Don’t get into fights, big brother.
They recovered quickly, Warren becoming Lash’s victim of the Wrap Around, Lash’s signature move.
“That’s not gonna end well,” you mumbled, your chin perched in your hand.
Warren burst into flames a few seconds later, prompting Lash to whimper and cry, trying to call it a foul. Boomer laughed at that request.
You clapped and cheered, much louder than you had all period, getting your friends in on it as Will got back up too. He might have been knocked on his ass a few seconds later by the Drive By, as Speed called his best move, but it’s the getting back up that matters most.
Amidst Lash and Warren fighting each other, Boomer took a fireball to the face, which was the funniest thing you’d seen all week.
Will took a few more hits, clearly getting frustrated. You yelled some encouraging words as loud you could, Will glancing at you for a moment before he rolled his shoulders out. You could see the gears working in his head, and hell, call it twin telepathy or whatever, but you knew exactly what he was about to do.
“Yes!” you yelled, sitting up straighter as Will reeled his fist back, jumping up off the ground. “YES! DO IT, WILL!”
His fist collided with the gym floor, uprooting the panels in a shockwave of power. A classic Commander move.
Speed tripped over a mailbox, though stuck the landing, and Lash flew across the room, collapsing into a bench as the crowd roared with praise.
A proud warmth filled your chest as Will thwarted his enemies perfectly. Tying Lash to a pole? Genius.
But, since he had been holding his own the entire time, your focus didn’t turn to Warren until it was too late.
Speed was doing The Death Spiral.
It was a move coined by heroes with super speed a long time ago. It was banned from being used in Save the Citizen, for extremely obvious, lethal reasons.
The excitement drained from your blood the second you saw Warren struggling to breathe, and upon seeing him fall to his knees, nothing else in the room mattered.
You tried to keep your hand out of sight as you focused on Speed’s body. That familiar ache surged back, sharp as it curved around your skull, but you couldn’t care less. You winced as you finally got a Hold, your breath hitching as you planted one of Speed’s feet to the ground. With enough gravity to make him fall flat on his face.
Speed slammed into the floor with a loud thud, the momentum he formed causing him to put a decent dent in the gym floor. The entire room erupted with groans, Will running over to pick him up and throw him towards the pole that Lash was tied to.
You held your breath, the pain dulled just enough to grit through it. Your gaze stayed locked on Warren, gasping for air, barely able to push himself up. That sight hurt more than anything your powers could ever do to you.
A warm trickle slid down your lip, which you expected.
You wiped it with your sleeve, letting out a tense breath as you moved your power’s focus to Warren’s body, taking just enough gravity off of him to make standing up easier.
You flinched as blood dripped onto your shorts, quickly catching the rest with your hand.
Warren finally got to his feet, though still unsteady, and only then did you allow yourself to look away. Pressing your palm to your throbbing head, whimpering as you caved in on yourself. The migraine that formed felt like you were taking a freight train to the brain. So, so lovely.
Magenta’s voice cut through the fog as she placed a hand on your back. She asked what’s wrong, but you barely manage a mumble, grateful for the convenient, bloody excuse. Somehow, you found the strength to stand, pinching your nose as you make your way down the bleachers, determined to reach the nearest bathroom.
The locker room door swung open under your weight, and you stumbled inside, heading straight for the sink. Cold water rushed from the faucet as you let the blood drip into the stream, your hands shaking as you scrub them clean.
The veins in your arm were already darkening again. Awesome. At least it was contained below your wrist, small victories. Once the bleeding was under control, you splashed water on your face, hoping it would somehow erase the bloodshot in your eyes. Didn’t do much.
The idea of going back to the gym felt impossible. If anyone noticed what you did, you could get in serious trouble. Best to avoid it all together.
No matter how many times you blinked, those white and black dots kept sprinkling through your vision, and didn’t go away as you slumped on a bench in front of your locker. You were very aware of how your blood was moving through your body, the wave of lightheadedness catching you off guard.
You took a moment to rest your head in your hands, breathing as slowly as you could. These symptoms would usually be staved off on an average day, but due to your prior activities in the lunchroom, you weren’t on your A game. Just stupidly undid all the healing your body had done over the weekend. Stupid, but worth it.
You blew a long breath through your mouth as you put in your locker combo, shuffling out of your gym clothes awkwardly. The bench wood was cold against your thigh as you pulled out your skirt and sweater, glad that you weren’t drenched in sweat as you put them back on. You kicked off your tennis shoes and let them meet their fate at the bottom of your locker, tugging your Docs from your backpack. As you leaned over to tie them, your vision tunneled, nearly blacking out completely. Your knees were nice braces as you tried not to fall over.
Once you were presentable enough, you held your backpack by the top strap and snailed out to the hallway. The muffled cheers and music soundtracks your hobbling around the school, holding onto the wall like a child at a roller rink. Your main goal was getting to your emergency meds, which were stowed away on the other side of the school.
That fight was almost laughable.
How could no one else see the problem with what just happened? Not even an immediate foul or scolding from Boomer. You stepped in because you knew Speed danced the line of giving Warren brain damage, or even killing him. The fact that no one else seemed to care drove you insane.
By the time you’d shuffled down the right hallway, your backpack felt as though it weighed a thousand pounds. You dropped it at your feet, half-lucid as you fumbled with your combination. It took an embarrassingly long amount of time to open it.
When you finally tugged your locker open, Save the Citizen was over. Great. Now to dig around all the shit you managed to stuff in here to find the most important capsule of pills ever.
“Did you use your powers during my fight?”
You jolted, your heart slamming against your ribs. Will’s voice came out of nowhere.
“What makes you think that?” you muttered, barely able to hide the annoyance rising under your skin.
“People don’t just dent the gym floor like that,” he points out, watching you like a hawk. “And you’re very obviously having a migraine right now.”
“Speed went too far,” you said flatly, rummaging through your locker, teeth grinding as you realize you forgot to restock your meds. That meant you’d have to go to the nurse, and the only explanation for your condition was admitting you’d broken the rules.
Will shook his head, exasperated. “He wasn’t gonna kill him or anything.”
Anger flared hot in your ribs.
“Will, it’s a game we play in gym class. Speed didn’t need to suffocate him.”
Will rolled his eyes, but you didn’t have time to berate him for it.
Your gaze shifted as Gwen and her friends approached the two of you, their smug smiles sending off a fresh wave of irritation. You turned away, pretending to look for something just to avoid their scrutiny. Gwen gushed about how proud she was, how amazing Will did, blah blah blah.
Will took it all in, bathed in the praise actually. He didn’t pay anyone else a second of his attention when Gwen was standing in front of him. Bothered the shit out of you. He only proved your point when he completely ignored your friends, walking off hand-in-hand with Miss Perfect.
You had hoped he’d remain his usual self, but the ego of super strength got him too.
You slammed your locker with a scoff and leaned against the door, the cold metal providing some fleeting relief as you sighed.
“Rough day?”
You tilted your head, one eye open, smiling slightly as Warren tilted his head to match yours.
Layla seemed deeply concerned as she approached you, asking a million questions like your own mother. She didn’t take your reassurance very far, providing you with her peppermint and lavender oils, and insisted that you kept them. Zach and Ethan were still droning on about how awesome Will was, despite Layla telling them to shut up. Mag dug out a few large bandaids from her purse, which you took begrudgingly.
“They’re broken in,” you grumbled, referring to the Doc Martens you’ve been uncomfortably shifting in all day.
“Doesn’t matter, you haven’t worn them for a year,” she clarified, kicking her foot with yours to remind you what real, broken in boots looked like. And when you pulled your skirt down for the millionth time that day, she cocked an eyebrow. “And you didn’t wear tights…because?”
“I didn’t want to!” you fumed, shoving the bandages in your backpack.
“Don’t ask me for fashion advice and then get angry when you don’t take it.”
Magenta traded a few annoyed glances with you before she turned to Warren, telling you to go to him for Doc advice since you were giving her attitude - which was her being subtle about your crush on Warren. She didn’t even hide the satisfaction on her face as you death glared at her.
Layla pressed you one more time about your condition, to which you told her once again that you were probably fine. She still urged you to go to the nurse and offered to save you a seat outside when you were ready, then left hesitantly, waving to both you and Warren as she walked towards the courtyard with Mag.
Warren lingered, ignoring Zach and Ethan’s awkward attempts at small talk, waiting until they were gone to speak.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he started, voice small. He’d never be able to forget how your powers felt, even when he was almost passing out. “But I appreciate it.”
You scanned his face, noting how shaken he looked.
“You okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” he promised, but his gaze flickered downward, landing on your hand. “Are you? Do you need to go to the nurse?”
“I didn’t participate in any fights, so if I go, they’re gonna know I did something.” You settled for rubbing the essential oils Layla gave you on your pressure points, trying to remember the right spots she showed you. It helped, a little. “I might just stand here and ice my forehead on this.”
You were only half-joking.
“This might be the only time I wished I had Cryokinesis,” Warren said earnestly.
You couldn’t fight the smile that formed on your face, and he seemed to be in the same predicament.
“STRONGHOLD!”
Your heart dropped to your feet.
As you turned over your shoulder, you found Lash and Speed, the latter having a giant bruise across his jaw, storming down the hallway, furious. They must have figured out what you did, and being the petty assholes they were, they needed to let you know just how much it pissed them off.
“You’re fuckin’ dead,” Lash growled, his glare cutting through you easily.
You had nowhere to run. Your powers were basically useless, and without them, you were too weak to put up a real fight. Backed up against your own locker, you felt helpless.
Warren planted himself between them and you, his backpack hitting the ground before they got too close. Lash and Speed exchanged a glance before chuckling, cocky smirks plastered across their faces as they loomed closer.
“You goin’ soft, Peace?” Speed sneered, glaring at you over Warren’s shoulder.
“Protecting your girlfriend?” Lash added with a cruel laugh.
Warren didn’t flinch. He didn’t acknowledge their taunts, just stared them down, shoulders squared and unmoving. Lash tried to push past him, but Warren shut him down in an instant, gripping his shoulder in a vice-like hold. Lash just smirked, letting out a dark chuckle as he turned to face Warren.
“You remember who her fucking dad is, right?” he scoffed, his tone dripping with disbelief.
The second the words left Lash’s mouth, you saw Warren’s entire body go rigid.
A sharp crackling filled the air, fire erupting from Warren’s hand. Lash recoiled with a pained cry, slapping frantically at the embers burning through his sleeve. Speed moved to retaliate, but flames had already crawled up Warren’s arms, flickering violently in warning.
“You want a repeat of last year?” Warren’s voice was low, dangerous.
Lash and Speed froze, the bravado melting from their faces. Then, without a word, they scrambled backward, cursing under their breath as they fled the scene.
Warren extinguished the fire with a sigh before turning to you, his expression shifting almost immediately. The deadly edge was gone, replaced by something softer. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice quiet, careful, protective.
You swallowed hard and nodded, chewing on the inside of your lip.
You had barely moved since they yelled your name. Everything was drowned out by your heart pounding in your ear drums. People were staring at you now, whispering through rumors of why they targeted you, pointing at the black veins you were suddenly extremely embarrassed by.
You tugged on your sleeves and balled the fabric of your sweater into your fists, your stomach twisting as the tears finally came. Brimming your eyes with a heat that felt pathetic.
Warren didn’t hesitate. He bent down, grabbed both of your bags, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.
“Come on,” he murmured, shielding you from the eyes still lingering in the halls. Warren led you outside, where Layla instantly noticed that something was wrong.
She got up and ran over, holding your arms as you tried to catch your breath. Magenta and Zach were close behind, Ethan stuck grabbing everyone’s backpacks so they wouldn’t get stolen. Warren filled them in on what happened, which pissed all four of them off. They each had their own threat conjured up for the next time they saw Lash and Speed, and Layla made a point to thank Warren for being there to stop it.
That moment had been a first for him.
Warren hadn’t really felt like a hero until then.
He was actually using his powers to stop bad people from doing evil things to good people, and it felt so natural to him. He’d do it again, a thousand times over, especially for you.
Something warmer than even his own powers ignited in his chest.
After the rise of anger between your friends, they settled for their previous spot in the grass, under a tree that Layla had secretly grown on campus. They talked amongst themselves, Warren begrudgingly joined them, sitting next to you and reading quietly. You needed a break.
Laying in the grass, eyes closed, and listening to music helped bring you down. You flipped through a couple albums, torn between suffocating the remaining feelings with something heavy like “I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love”, or letting everything settle with something calm like “Nebraska” - Warren’s rec. You settled for “The Bends” by Radiohead, something in the middle.
Music became quite the escape for you the older you got. For however long an album was, you could pretend you weren’t in your body, and just feel it. Feel the rhythm of the instruments working together, feel the meaning of the lyrics, feel the story unfold as you listen track to track. All of the things that drew you to your favorite artists in the first place.
Although it wasn’t a perfect comparison, you found some relation to what Radiohead portrayed.
The title alone, referring to the debilitating feeling of surfacing too quickly and causing permanent damage, puts some of your deepest fears into words. Thom wrote about how little substance being “famous” has, and how difficult it can be to find genuine human connection when you’re stuck in the cycle that they were all in upon their first album blowing up the way it did.
You found it mirrored your own struggle with being a Stronghold, everyone’s expectations putting you in the ground, trying to maintain this image of the superhero they thought you were, even if you were just a kid still. And the horror that constantly followed you whenever someone heard your last name to begin with. It made you feel like some ill-placed God, and it got you treatment that you would push away for the rest of your life.
You didn’t want to be the Commander and Jetstream. You just wanted to be good.
Someone that people felt safe when they saw you flying above them, someone they knew they could call for in times of need. Fame was never an integral part of being a hero.
The final chorus of “My Iron Lung” was wrapping up when you finally opened your eyes, feeling someone lay beside you on the grass. You peeked one eye open, watching as Warren just stared at the clouds above you.
You offered one of your earbuds to him, unintentionally making his eyes dart to the black lines that had reappeared on your skin. Because of him.
He turned to you, hesitant as he bit on the inside of his cheek. The guilt was all but falling from his face.
“I’m okay,” you whispered.
He looked at you for a moment longer, taking the earbud silently. He had to scooch a little closer so that they wouldn’t tug from either of your ears, your shoulders pressed to the other’s. Today was one of the off-chances Warren wasn’t wearing his leather jacket, so the warmth spread through your blue sweater relentlessly. You didn’t mind.
You hand your iPod off to him to pick an album, which he takes his time doing. When he finally sets it between the two of you, a guitar lick that you’d recognize any day of the week started playing, and it genuinely filled you with utter joy that he picked it.
“My Name Is Jonas,” the lead track off of Weezer’s blue album. That's what Warren decided to listen to.
He found the way you contained your excitement extremely adorable.
You laid with your arms crossed over your chest, a dopey grin on your face, your feet happily swaying to the song. And he maybe half picked that album for this exact reaction. More like 95%, and the remaining 5% because he enjoyed some of it.
Though the second “No One Else” started playing, Warren immediately skipped it.
“Why did you do that?”
“Terrible song.”
“It’s a fantastic song,” you insisted.
“It’s misogynistic and abusive,” he countered, looking at you with a cocked brow.
“Yeah but, like…” you paused, deciding how to word this properly. “They’re aware of that, Weezer isn’t encouraging that behavior by writing about it.”
“I still don’t want to listen to it.”
“Okay…” you drew out, allowing him to be in his closed bubble.
From then on, you covered your iPod whenever you knew a song he hated was going to come on. He could endure a few questionable Weezer songs at the expense of skipping one of the great ones, roll his eyes all he wants.
There was one song in particular that Warren had to keep the facade going especially.
When he had first listened to this album, per your request, he had been doing homework, chores, whatever he occupied his time with. When “Only In Dreams,” the last song on the album, finally came around, he had just collapsed on his bed, staring at the pattern on his ceiling.
Bad idea, now he’s actually processing the lyrics.
And he couldn’t help but think about you.
A song about this amazing girl, who seems to take up every molecule of his life, who’s limited to his dream-like fantasy, because how could he ever manage the courage to ask her out? How would he ever entertain anything romantic with her in real life when he’s not worthy of it? But how could he stop himself from wanting her anyway? How could he stop himself from looking at someone so beautiful and wanting nothing more than to hold her hand?
Warren repeated that song more times that night than he’d like to admit. And now that he was actually laying next to you, arm pressed against yours, his heart nearly burst out of his chest. Luckily, the buses came before he did anything stupid.
Your welcome home was nothing small. For Will, anyway.
He pretty much had your dad’s attention until further notice, tucked away in the Sanctum recounting how he just single-handedly won Save the Citizen, and was this amazing hero with such amazing strength.
You preferred homework over that nonsense.
In the depths of your physics homework, which you hadn’t rage-quit purely out of spite, you heard voices down in the kitchen. You guessed you hadn’t heard whoever it was over your radio.
You had been meaning to talk to your mom anyway. Today was your power anniversary, after all.
She made a big deal about it every year, usually flew with you to Europe to celebrate, get genuine gelato and all that good stuff. You were just curious when you would be going. But, as you got to the bottom of the stairs and into the kitchen, that was quickly the last thing on your mind.
Gwen Grayson was standing in your kitchen. Great.
Of course, she’s fully dressed in one of her preppy outfits, laughing at something your mom said as they prepared dinner. And, of course, you’re standing in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles pajama pants, and a long sleeve Sky High shirt you stole from your dad.
“Oh, hey, honey,” your mom happily greeted you, unaware of how much you were hating this interaction already. “Do you know Gwen?”
“Yep,” you replied, hating how little you hid your irritation at that fact. A fake smile should fix it. “Uh, Mom, when are we…going, later?”
You weren’t exactly inviting the idea of sharing something deeply personal with some random girl, because that’s what she was to you. She wasn’t even a peer in your eyes, just some girl that your brother had been entertaining romantically. Their weird age gap was apparently besides the point to everyone else on the planet.
“Going where?” your mom asked, too enthralled with your class president to even look you in the eye.
“Like, after dinner,” you said lowly, trying to make eye contact. “Me and you?”
“Are you guys gonna get ice cream or something?” Gwen asked, that same fake, happy smile on her face.
“No, but that sounds like a great idea,” your mom replied.
Was she being serious?
You’ve been doing this since you were in 2nd grade and she’d just…forgotten now?
You can’t even get a word in before your dad and Will join you in the kitchen. They just started talking to each other, the four of them. It was like you were out of frame.
Anything you tried to add, they didn’t acknowledge. The conversation you tried to start died immediately. They didn’t even look at you, any of them.
You weren’t even there, you were invisible. Even as you slowly backed out of the kitchen, disappearing up the stairs, they didn’t even ask where you were going. They didn’t care.
You took in a long breath as you closed your bedroom door behind you, hating the sting that was crawling up your throat. You needed to leave, right now. You couldn’t feel like this any longer.
You grabbed the first pair of jeans you found, kicking off your pj pants as you dialed Layla. She answered on the first ring.
“Hello?”
“Where are you right now?” you asked, phone wedged against your shoulder as you tugged your jeans on.
“The Paper Lantern, I was-”
“I’ll be there in five,” you muttered, hanging up and digging out an old pair of blue Vans from your closet.
Your mom and dad were chatting in the kitchen when you got back down stairs, barely acknowledging you as you walked past them and made for the side door.
“I’m gonna hangout with Layla,” you said as you were leaving, fully expecting at least some protest from your dad.
Nothing. The one time you want them to be overbearing, they couldn’t care less.
No concern where you were going, why you were missing dinner, why you looked so angry. Just a weak “Okay, honey.”
Truly, that was the fastest you’ve ever flown in your life.
Layla visibly perked up when she saw you walk into the Paper Lantern. The place was deafeningly empty, aside from the traditional music drifting under the air and workers cleaning up. They were still open for another hour or so, which you felt bad about.
“Hey,” Layla starts, her eyebrows furrowing as you sit down. “Are you alright?”
“No,” you said flatly, running your hands over your face to get the wind chap off your cheeks. “I’m so fucking angry.”
“What’s wrong?”
With a defeated sigh, you told Layla every degrading detail. With Layla, you didn’t need to hold anything back. She was the best listener in the entire world, and always offered the perfect thing to say in between points. There was always so much ease when you and Layla were together.
“Will was supposed to meet me here, but clearly he had different priorities tonight,” Layla confessed, dejected as she nursed her cup of ice water.
You rolled your eyes, upset with Will even more.
He was really just throwing away relationships in his life for this girl, and with such little care. You were sure, if Will’s locker wasn’t directly next to yours, you would never see him outside of your own house.
“Alright, hippie.”
Layla sat back as a plate was set in front of her, a barely there smile forming on her face as she went for her fork. You looked up at the server who brought it and was pleasantly surprised.
“Oh, Warren works here,” Layla informed you, covering her mouth as she spoke.
“I see that,” you replied.
And see you did.
Of course, Warren had his hair up, which always made you swoon. This is the first time he’s worn anything other than a band t-shirt or his jacket around you. Biceps on full display. And his tattoos, ugh.
“For how long, exactly?”
“A couple years,” he answered, seemingly nervous. It was a weird emotion on him.
You turned to Layla, puzzled. “How have we never seen him before?”
“I’m not really out here very much,” he adds, setting the pitcher he had in his hand on the table instead. Probably melting the ice.
“Well, I get that,” you started, crossing your arms over the table. “You’re probably not good with the customers.”
There’s that smile you’ve gotten a little too happy about seeing at times.
Warren huffed a laugh, shaking his head as Layla giggled too.
“Do you want anything or are you just gonna harass me?” “Yes, fine.” You fake contemplated what you wanted for a few seconds, as if you haven’t gotten the same thing ever since Layla brought you here for the first time. “Number 1 with chicken, and a side of egg drop soup, please.”
“I’m only getting that for you because you said please.”
You didn’t feel totally better, but the weight got a little lighter as you and Layla sat there.
You guys tried to trade as much info as you could when you were in person, it just wasn’t as good over the phone. She updated you on what Magenta said about her crush on Zach, and you updated her with info from Zach about his crush on Magenta. You, Layla, and Ethan were seriously gonna rip your hair out if they didn’t tell each other soon, it was getting hard to keep both their secrets.
You told Layla about the new sushi spot you and Warren had found downtown, told her about their biodegradable cups, which she raved about. You two always found a way back to the environment and things relating to it, just something you both loved talking about.
After a while, Layla decided to finally bite the bullet and go home.
You offered to try to talk to Will for her, but she said not to bother, and that she’d handle it in the morning. She gave you a long hug and insisted you call her if you needed anything, and that you could even spend the night if you needed to. You appreciated it, deeply. She was your best friend for a reason.
You finished up your food and left enough money for a decent tip, checking the time on your phone.
Wasn’t as late as you thought, actually.
You: how long until you’re off
“I am standing ten feet away from you.”
You nearly tore your head off as you turned around, finding Warren wiping down the front door with a cocky grin on his face.
“Well, you didn’t answer my question,” you deflected, getting up to rest your elbows on the booth top.
“Probably like a half hour,” he responded, slinging the rag in his hand over his shoulder.
“Do you wanna hangout then?” you asked, hoping to God he said yes.
“Sure, I can come pick you up.”
“Can I…just wait here? I don’t really want to go home right now.”
Warren’s face instantly shifted. “Is everything alright?”
“Yeah…I just,” you trail off, everything still simmering under your skin. “Can I just wait in your car or something?”
He hands you his car keys without a second thought, pulling them off his belt loop. The key chain of a skeleton instantly grabbed your attention. Warren promised to be quick with the rest of his cut work, which you assured him wasn’t necessary. You started drafting a text to your mom as to why you’d be out pretty late, walking to Warren’s car in the back parking lot.
Warren’s famed black jeep sat, waiting perfectly for you, which brought you some small form of comfort. He had taken all the doors off since you rode in it last, probably one last time before it got too cold.
You settled for sitting in the trunk, letting your legs dangle. You found a lot of interesting things back there; jumper cables, fire accelerant, a couple of old CDs, and his leather jacket.
You glanced back at the restaurant, trying to make sure no one saw you as you grabbed the garment and put it on. The fact that it was even on your body was something you reveled in.
You stuffed your hands in the pockets as a little wind picked up, a piece of paper catching on your fingers. You took out the tiny folded note, thinking it was trash or something.
It was your phone number.
He kept it.
He actually tore it off of the project outline you wrote it on.
Maybe Magenta was right, as much as you hated admitting it.
Just to be hopeful, maybe a little childish, you looked to see how bright Polaris was shining. To perhaps wish on it. The lighthearted thought turned sour as you found it amongst the stars.
Your fascination with science, and stars in particular, was all because of your mom.
She had to burst your bubble when you got your powers that stars were balls of hot air, billions of miles away in space, and that you couldn’t go and touch them. She started teaching you about science shortly after to try and cheer you up, which is what led you to be so advanced in the subject.
Now, your mom was so different in your eyes.
She forgot an important thing in your relationship, something you’d been doing for nearly half your life, and it made you so angry. You tried to come up with some sort of reason why this would happen, something to quiet the voice in the back of your head that was saying she just didn’t care anymore. But, to no avail.
What if she really didn’t care anymore?
Did she ever like doing it in the first place?
Was she just doing it for my sake?
What else is she gonna forget?
Does she even like spending time with me?
Do any of them like being around me?
Do they like Gwen more than me?
Do they even care to know where I am right now?
Why haven’t they asked?
Are they missing me at dinner?
Are they missing me at all?
Am I doing something wrong?
Am I being difficult?
Am I forgettable?
Am I disappointing my family?
Am I upholding the Stronghold name?
Am I cut out for this?
Am I a good hero?
Am I good enough?
Is Will gonna forget about me?
Do mom and dad still love me?
“Hey…”
Your head shot up, having been glued to your lap as everything finally hit you. A typical thing for you to do, wait until you are completely alone to be vulnerable. Now that someone was watching, you needed to pack it all up and pretend the feelings weren’t there anymore.
Warren was sitting next to you now, his face melting with concern as you wiped the evidence off your face.
“It’s okay,” Warren whispered. Despite wanting the tears to end right then and there, they kept sliding down your skin.
You wanted this day to end, so many bad things kept happening and you just wanted to curl up in your room and disappear. And you couldn’t even do that, Miss Perfect had to ruin the one place you could avoid her. Your migraine never really went away, you might have a bounty on your back for the rest of the school year, and you feel like you’re watching your brother disappear in front of you, and you have no idea how to fix it.
Everything rampaging through your mind narrows down to the feeling of Warren’s arms wrapping around you.
The ache that lingered in your damaged hand started to slip away as you hugged him too, like a heating pad relieving the remaining discomfort.
Warren smelled so nice, like caramel.
Here, in his arms, the twisting feeling in your chest melting away, you felt safe.
And when you dug your face into Warren’s neck, whimpering as the tears finally fell without you fighting them, he held you tighter. He didn’t ask you anything, just let you cry it out. You really needed it.
After most of the vulnerable feelings subsided, you started pulling away. A few tears lingered, a couple still trickling along the side of your nose, and before you got the chance to wipe them from your skin, Warren’s hands were already cradling your jaw.
He was impossibly gentle as he gathered the teardrops with his thumbs, holding your face like it was the most precious thing in the world.
To him, maybe it was.
The way Warren was looking at you right now, like nothing else in the world mattered to him, like the only thing he cared about was making you feel better, it's how you wanted him to always look at you.
It was like the world stopped, and you were the only two people on Earth right now.
You realized, this was your “perfect first kiss” moment.
Like in 10 Things I Hate About You, when Patrick and Kat are running around the paintball course, and you can feel the love blossoming between them, before he just can’t hold it in anymore and takes the risk.
You could see this exact scene in your mind.
The camera panning between you and Warren’s faces, slowly zooming in as the two of you just stare at each other. A curated moment of the perfect song - if you had to pick, it would be “Yellow” by Coldplay - coordinated to a specific moment in the song as you finally kissed each other. And the people watching your movie would just gush at how sweet and perfect it was.
You’ve wanted that, you’ve wanted this exact moment your entire life. It just needed someone to take a little risk.
So, you took it.
Warren’s lips were warm as you pressed yours to his, much like everything else on his body. There was what felt like years of tension and pining and feelings just releasing in an instant, just the two of you sharing this moment of intimacy.
But even then, Warren pulled away. Just enough to rest his nose against yours.
You could feel his hesitation.
He wanted to make sure you were in the right head space for something like this. And, he knew this was the point of no return, that both of you knew you shouldn’t be doing this for the obvious reasons.
But, fuck, he hasn’t felt this alive in his entire life.
He couldn’t fight how long he had been wanting this. Not when your hands were running along his sides, wearing his fucking jacket, looking as perfect as he imagined. Warren broke through that final wall keeping him from giving in, holding the back of your head like he was terrified you’d disappear before he could feel your lips on his again.
He might have pressed back a little too hard, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Kissing Warren was already something you couldn’t get enough of. Each was deeper than the last, saying all the unspoken words that neither of you had the courage to share.
His breath hitched as you ran your hand over his chest, your arms wrapping around his neck and leaning into him further. You could feel the raging heat through the leather, his fingers splayed along your spine as he held you. And between kisses, as his tongue split the seam of your lips, meeting yours as you went in for more, you swore a spark ignited.
Warren shivered, which he didn’t do often. Actually, he could probably count on one hand the amount of times he’s shivered in his whole life.
He knew what was coming.
Warren hadn’t ever experienced it himself, but he knew he would succumb to it eventually. He was too in love with you for it to stave off much longer.
It took one more kiss, along with you running your hands through his hair, before he physically had to separate himself from you.
He hopped off the trunk, swearing under his breath as sparks started flying from his palms. You watch as he tries to almost wipe them off, staring as the embers glow against his skin. After a moment, Warren shivers again and holds his hands together to try and soften the flames forming.
“I might have pushed that a little,” he remarked, ringing his hands out and his powers disengaging.
“Pushed what?”
“I would love to show you, but you’d catch on fire,” he smiles as you cock an eyebrow, stepping closer. “I wear leather for a reason.”
“It’s not for the brooding, bad boy aesthetic?” you tease, looking up at him as he comes to stand in front of you.
“I had to attract you somehow,” he whispered, only partly kidding. “Pyrokinetics can lose control when they’re feeling something too strongly.”
Usually, it was strong feelings of anger or fear. Warren’s case was love, a lot of it.
“You have to show me now.”
Warren playfully rolled his eyes, holding his hands behind his back as he smirked down at you. He leaned down and stole only one kiss before fire burst from his skin, flames crawling up to his biceps, making you laugh as he grimaced at the feeling.
He stepped away far enough so you wouldn’t be in danger, tensing his fists as he tried to put a lid back on his powers. Warren’s face scrunched up with discomfort as he tried to disengage the flames.
“God, that’s so weird,” he grumbled, suffocating some of the fire with his shirt.
“Are you okay?” you asked, not exactly hating the heat wrapping around your cold limps.
“Yeah,” he gruffed, shaking his hands out as the fire finally subsided. “It just tickles a little bit, I hate it.”
You chuckled at that, allowing yourself to shamelessly admire Warren now that the veil of “I have a crush on this guy but I can’t tell him” thing was gone.
Warren actually had a stunning smile, he just didn’t let anyone besides you see it. His eyes were gorgeous, too. Dark brown, with small marks of gold, almost like embers trying to outlive the char around them. It wasn’t just his skin, if he was really comfortable, everything about him was warm. He just seemed to carry himself differently than when you first saw him, like he enjoyed being himself now.
You couldn’t help the smile that burned into your features as Warren came to stand in front of you. He reached up to adjust his jacket that you couldn’t in a million years forget you were wearing, making sure to not touch your skin.
“You look cute in this,” he breathed, earnest.
“I’ve been meaning to tell you the same thing,” you whispered back.
Even in the dark parking lot, you could see the blush forming on Warren’s cheeks. He nearly swooned.
After collecting himself, Warren nominated that you get ice cream together, in hopes of getting you to feel better.
You happily climbed into his passenger seat, Warren leaning on his center console as he pulled out of the parking lot. Your hand made contact with his for merely a second before he pulled it away. Though, it took everything in him to do so.
He claimed he wasn’t cooled off, and that once he was, you could hold his hand. You just rolled your eyes, opting to rest your cheek on Warren’s shoulder as he drove to the nearest open-late diner.
One strawberry and one chocolate milkshake later, that Warren insisted on paying for, sitting across from each other as Glenn Miller drifted through the air. You couldn’t have set the scene better if you tried.
When you attempt to hold his hand again, he still doesn’t let you.
“What?” you asked, annoyed.
“I’m not cooled off.”
And upon your further annoyance, he comically wraps his hand around his shake, the condensation that had formed on the glass evaporating in a short sizzle. He smirks at the shock on your face, explaining that he’s been coming down from the initial 310 degrees, and that he was only down to the low 200’s. He would need to get below 109 degrees to make sure he didn’t burn you, even though he claims his resting body temperature was 105. How he doesn’t die, he couldn’t answer.
While you waited, you let out everything that had been bothering you. Warren intently listened, his face twisting with irritation as you went on and on about Gwen, and your parents, and Will. Unlike Layla, he actually offered angry feedback, and told you how much he hated everyone who did something to hurt you in any way. He just keeps getting hotter and hotter.
Sadly, it was by the time you were finished with your delicious strawberry beverage that Warren finally let you hold his hand. You’d take walking back to his car, where he happily opened your door like a gentleman, fingers laced together, over nothing.
“What time do you have to go home?” he asked, starting his car and putting his hand on the shift.
Oh, right. You have to go home at some point.
It was almost your curfew, actually. You had enough time to get home, but that was it. Surely, Gwen was long gone. Hopefully.
“Probably now, sadly.”
Warren didn’t even try to hide his disappointment, but he held your hand all the way there.
He noticed your reluctance to get out, just staring at your house when he finally came to a stop. Warren squeezed your hand, leaning closer and whispering some reassurance, which you appreciate.
You look at him one last time, all the dread of going inside leaving in an instant as you see his handsome face. You can feel the smile threatening to tug at Warren’s lips as you kissed him again.
Were you both slightly nervous doing this in front of your house, where your parents could see you at any time? Sure. Did either of you care enough to stop? Absolutely not.
He held the side of your face as he pressed his lips to yours, his thumb dragging along your cheek as the two of you got lost for a second. But, this make out session of yours was cut short when Warren pulled away, just enough to put a mere inch between you, despite your muttered protest.
“This is gonna start hurting in a sec,” he murmured, tapping his finger on the back of your hand.
You opened your eyes, brushing noses with him as you glared at him. He just raised his eyebrows back.
You weren’t sure if you were gonna be able to keep it together at school tomorrow. You saw Warren multiple times a day, and you were expected not to steal a kiss from time to time?
You tugged your hand from his and stole one last fleeting kiss, a satisfied grin forming on your face as you pulled away finally.
“Playing with fire’s dangerous,” he teased, still leaning close.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, hot head,” you grumbled.
Warren’s eyebrows creased instantly, a displeased look forming on his face at that nickname.
“Sorry.”
“That’s what I thought,” he added.
You sighed at the thought of leaving, kissing Warren on the cheek goodbye as you finally unbuckled your seatbelt.
“Goodnight,” you told him, saddened that this day that you had begged to end was actually doing so.
“Goodnight, Stronghold.”
And you watched as he drove away, standing in your drive way, in his leather-
Wait.
He didn’t take it back.
He gave it to you.
Warren gave you his leather jacket that everyone knew was his and holy fuck you guys kissed tonight. You kissed Warren Peace, and he kissed you back, and he likes you so much that he bursts into flames against his will, because he can’t contain his crush on you.
Warren has a crush on you.
Oh my god.
You have to call Mag. No, better to tell her in person.
You seemed to have a permanent smile for the rest of the night.
You attempt a silent entrance, hoping that the placeholder door your dad bought wouldn’t allude to you coming home a little late, cringing when you see your parents sitting in the living room.
“I’m home!”
You announce your presence to try and absolve yourself of any suspicion of trying to hide it, plastering on an innocent face as you walk into the living room, the difference in facial expressions on your parent’s faces catching you off guard.
“How was hanging out with Layla, sweetie?” your dad asked.
“It was good! We just went to the Paper Lantern and gossiped.”
Your mom was eyeing you longer than usual, but she didn’t say anything, just smiling when your dad put his arm around her.
“Sounds like fun.”
You curtly nod, trying to go up the stairs without sounding like you were going as fast as you could, slowly closing your door until it latched. You let out a sigh of relief, feeling home free that they didn’t think anything of what you were wearing.
You didn’t even want to take off Warren's jacket, everything was still bouncing around in your head. Every kiss. Every second you held hands. Every flirty comment. All of it just colliding at once and making your heart swell.
You’re taken out of your thoughts when your mom knocks on your door, asking if she can come in. You frantically rip the jacket off, trying not to make a sound as you put it on your bed, attempting to make it not stick out from the natural clutter of your room.
You opened your door after a moment, hoping that you didn’t take too long. The knowing look on your mom’s face wasn’t giving you too much hope.
“Is that his?”
Your mom points to the jacket that you poorly threw on your bed, the smile on her face making you feel a little better about your answer.
“Warren gave it to me.”
She nods, kissing you on the forehead. “Be safe please.”
“I know,” you mumble back, the whole reason you were upset the whole night hitting you as she turns to leave. “Mom?”
She looked at you from her bedroom door, that same calm, easy smile that was always on her face.
Something Warren said earlier, whilst listening to you complaining, came to the front of your mind. His philosophy to approaching this whole situation was; it’s better to know you’ve fucked up, so you can try and make it right, than being none the wiser.
“You forgot my power anniversary.”
Her face morphed into something terrible, and you could practically see her heart breaking as she looked back at you.
She all but ran to tug you into her arms, apologizing over and over again. You held her tight, tucking your face into her chest. You were just glad she cared enough to be horrified by her mistake.
She promises a trip to Europe that weekend, and anything you wanted while you were there, a million more apologies along with it.
Your mom pulled away after a minute, red eyed and disappointed in herself. Her hand formed along the side of your face, affection pouring from her gaze as she kissed your forehead.
The twisted feelings of betrayal and rejection finally unfurled, the tiniest sting forming in your eye too. You both whispered “love you” and “goodnight,” and the secret of whose jacket was sitting on your bed sealed between the two of you, something you were glad to have. You always had an inkling that your mom didn’t care about this whole Barron Battle nonsense.
You finished the worst day, turned best, staring at your ceiling and blasting “Yellow” by Coldplay - you had to. Daydreaming, smiling, replaying moments until the film wore thin. And as your eyelids grew heavy, the glow in the dark stars on your ceiling alighting the darkness of your bedroom, you couldn’t resist texting the person who turned your day around so fast.
You: sleep good please <3
He didn’t even try to wait.
Warren: You too. <3
Unbeknownst to you, Warren had been laying in bed, too. Phone on his chest, waiting for that text since he got home. In fact, he almost dropped his phone when he sat up, smiling at what you said.
He sadly didn’t have the perfect love song to blast at the thought of you. He hadn’t ever understood romantic songs - I mean, he gets what they’re about, he just didn’t have anything to compare the feelings to. The idea of someone being so deeply in love that they create the most beautiful art on Earth had been beyond him.
Until now.
Now? These songs he’d never connected to for years were finally putting the warmth in his heart that they’ve always meant to.
Lines like “I could die for you. Oh, this life I choose,” and “Whenever I’m alone with you, you make me feel like I am home again,” it feels like Anthony Kiedies and Robert Smith were articulating feelings that he couldn’t himself.
For the first time, Warren’s in love.
He never thought he would be, but he’s over the moon that he is.
And even happier that it’s you.
credit to @chrisssiren for the gorgeous dividers, and to the original posters for the pictures used in the banner
my lovely tag list babes: @toesucker59 @not-a-big-slay
