A/N Edit: I'm not continuing this story anymore. I know there are some people who like this fic, and to them I apologize. If you're new, I'm warning you right now that you probably won't be satisfied. I hope you can still enjoy it for what it is.
The forest was on fire.
"So this is the kind of stuff you're into?" asked the man. His eyes squinted slightly from the brightness of the frenzied inferno.
The second man shrugged. "I guess."
"Fair enough," he said in reply. "It is beautiful. I mean, in a sort of 'oh-god-we're-going-to-die' kind of way." He chuckled quietly, inhaling the thick black smoke.
The second man glanced to the first with an accusing eye. "Yeah Like you're one to judge."
The first man smiled. "Yeah, I guess I'm being a hypocrite," he admitted as small flames began to lick at his ankles. "I really do think it's beautiful, though. You really are an artist."
An amber attached itself to the second man's jacket, sparking a small flame. He watched as it slowly began to grow in size, burning a hole in the sleeve, before dying out. "I'm not an artist anymore."
A sigh. The first shook his head. "Yeah, I know," he said in disappointment, "but that doesn't mean you don't have the talent. I mean, just look around," he gestured his arm to the blazing forest that surrounded them.
A large, burning branch fell, just barely missing the second. He didn't flinch. "Yeah, but who would pay attention?" he asked with pessimism.
He responded with a friendly smile. "I would. I'm doing it right now, aren't I?" he asked in a gentle tone. A large amber landed on his hair. He patted the area before the flame could spread.
But the second frowned. "You know that's a lie."
The grass they stood upon turned bright orange, then black. "Not exactly," said the first, still smiling. He was very good at smiling. It was always genuine.
The second crossed his arms, hugging his body in discomfort. "If I left this place and played one of my songs, you wouldn't listen."
He crossed his arms as well, mimicking his posture. "Yes I would."
The second sighed at the other man's childishness. "You're lying." The thick smoke felt suffocating against his throat. He ignored the sensation.
The soft smile morphed into a cheeky grin. "Not exactly," he echoed himself. It was becoming difficult for the pair to see each other over the forking flames. He batted them away.
Another sigh. The second said nothing in reply. He knew very much of the first's stubbornness. He watched as his fire began to encompass them. His clothes were burning off his skin.
The first did the same, but continued to speak. "You know, I wish you would play your songs more. Even if you think nobody listens."
The second reached his hand outward, and started petting a nearby flame. "You don't like my fire?" he asked jokingly as he twisted the flame around his fingers.
Watching him do this, the first replied, "I love your fire. Better than the real thing, I'd say. But... well, it's not real." Dried wood snapped loudly as the trees began to topple over.
Still playing with his fire, he gave the second a look. "Neither are you..." he stated, a tone of sadness lurking in his voice.
Then, inexplicably, the first began to laugh. It was a loud, warm laugh that always felt so infectious. As he laughed, lingering ashed found their way into his throat, along with the blackened smoke.
"Not exactly," he said as the fire consumed them both.