Page 56 of Elemasters

Before Dustin could voice his annoyance with his brother any further, Chloe and James returned from the backyard, their shoulders slumped in a combination of defeat and exasperation.

“Back door’s sealed shut too,” Chloe confirmed, plopping down next to Dustin and Bailey, “we even tried to break a window, but the glass was somehow insanely hot to the touch,”

“Yeah, I slammed a lawn chair into those big dining room windows and the chair fucking melted,” James co-signed, his tone somewhere between amazement and confusion, “I think the garden is forcing us to sit this one out. Maybe whatever it wants Chris to see, is for him alone,”

Dustin’s eyes widened as the horror of that concept settled over him.

Chris was good at a lot of things, but processing his emotions completely on his own?

That was a recipe for a complete fucking disaster.

Chris stormed out of his room, immediately heading for the living room fireplace to confirm his suspicions of the garden’s intent. He examined all the family photos on the mantle, and sure e-fucking-nough, he wasn’t in a single one of them

The photo of him and Dustin at Bartholomew Pier as kids, in those ugly ass matching overalls (exactly the same except for the fact that Dustin’s had a Batman logo patch on the front pocket, while Chris’s had Superman) was front and center, but unsurprisingly, it only featured Dustin. Holding a balloon in each hand, rather than him holding one and Chris holding the other.

Like Chris had never even existed.

Like he never mattered.

Like no one even fucking cared.

The writing was on the wall, and Chris was reading it plainly; he was being replaced. Dustin was going to entirely eclipse him. Make him irrelevant.

Just like when they were kids.

Chris scoffed, tears welling up in his eyes as he clenched his fists. Dustin probably didn’t even remember that; how things were before. Back in Elementary school when he was excelling and being placed in “advanced learning” classes, while Chris needed a “specialized learning plan” just to keep up. The way their parents' faces dropped when they saw the letter from the principal explaining that fact.

He’d never forget hearing the conversation between his parents about how they had to “give him special care”, that they needed to “make sure he was properly tended so he wouldn’t burn away his chances for a good future”. Not like Dustin. Not like their little fucking scholar with his compassion, and “maturity beyond his years”.

He’d been so fucking angry back then, but who the fuck was he supposed to take it out on? It wasn’t Dustin’s fault… not really. It wasn’t even their parents’ fault. Both of them were brilliant and from successful families. His mom always told them about their Japanese aristocratic heritage, and apparently one of their dad’s earliest ancestors was the first god damn emperor of China, so who wouldn’t have high hopes for their kids in their shoes?

The only person he had to hate back then, was himself.

He’d sat with that for a long time. All throughout elementary school, and even into middle school.

But then there was puberty. And then basketball. He got taller, his face got sharper, his social skills got better.

He had the ability to do the one thing Dustin couldn’t; be charismatic. He loved his brother, of course he did, but Dustin had never been good at commanding attention anywhere but on stage. But Chris? He’d spent years hating himself, which meant he knew exactly how to make other people love him.

And then, when he was seven years old, he internalized the coolest shit he’d ever heard.

“Sometimes firefighters used controlled blazes to combat wildfires. Literally fighting fire with fire.”

From Freshman year on, if anyone thought they could erase him, deny him, burn him to ash?

He’d burn so fucking bright that he’d become uncontainable. It hadn’t failed him yet, and it wouldn’t fail him now.

Light like glowing embers surged through his veins as his powers activated; spreading warmth across his body with every ferocious beat of his heart. The tears falling down his face turned to steam, his shirt’s fabric started to release curls of black smoke into the air, and the pressure building in his chest became too much to bear.

With a growl that quickly erupted into a painful scream, Christian released a blazing stream of fire from his throat; straight up at the ceiling like a furious dragon. It caught fire instantly, spreading around the room faster than Chris thought possible… but he didn’t stop. He wouldn’t. Not until he burned down every inch of this fucking torture chamber disguised as therapy.

He pushed harder, screaming louder as the flames from his mouth got more intense. His shirt was set ablaze as well, burning off his body and revealing the glowing red lines beneath his skin; not veins, but like the ones on the diagrams from the acupuncture clinic that their dad used to go to.

Dustin would probably know what they were called… and that just pissed Chris off even more.

The light in his blood brightened. He looked like a literal fucking star standing in the middle of their living room as the house burned around him. As the fresh surge of anger and frustration and directionless, impotent rage coursed through him, the fire from his mouth changed.

Instead of blazing orange, it was now bright, brilliant blue.