Title: Powerful emotions
Word count: 820 words.
Read on, oh faithful ones.
...
Warren's power had always been controlled by his emotions, particularly angry ones. He could spend hours lit up in a blaze of flames if he was angry enough, and most of those emotions came from the sidelong glances and loud whispers about him being the son of Baron Battle. He didn't care about them really, but they fuelled his power every time he thought of his mother receiving the same comments, or worse.
Then, after Homecoming and the Royal Pain fiasco, the comments about his father lessened and his own status as a hero began to rise. Warren didn't mind about those comments either, even if he found it a bit harder to power up in the weeks following. His emotions became far more placated when his friendship with Will strengthened, and on some days, Warren found it difficult to garner enough emotion to light a simple tea candle.
Still, he didn't mind so much, blaming it on the colder weather or a sudden breeze that no one else seemed to feel. Warren accepted the laughter of his friends, and used the confused emotion and hurt pride to power up, just to prove to himself that he still could.
It wasn't until he was confronted by Layla that he truly accepted that his power was emotion-based. She'd begun talking calmly and rationally, but he had refused to listen, and they soon began trading insults and shouts, each barbed word sharper than the last. Warren had gone up in flames, stronger and brighter than he'd been able to create for some time now. Layla had looked at him, a knowing expression telling him that she was right and he was wrong. He had been too stunned to do anything other than stare at his flame-covered arms. Then, as she continued to talk to him while his arms flamed, a new feeling overcame Warren. The flames disappeared almost instantly and he pulled Layla to him, kissing her. She'd kissed him back, and he'd taken her then, her body beneath his and warmer than his flames. She'd welcomed him, kissing him, moaning his name, her body responding to every touch. The next morning, with her naked body pressed against his, her body wrapped in his arms, Layla had whispered that she couldn't bear to see him miserable, couldn't bear to see him without his powers. She'd kissed him once more before leaving, not looking back once.
She never said anything to Will, and she'd never said anything about it to Warren either, but she continued to kiss and touch Will rather than him, so he knew she'd made her choice. Sometimes Warren swore he could see desire in her eyes when she looked at him, and sometimes he thought he knew why she'd chosen Will. Layla stayed with Will so that he could stay angry, so he could keep his power. It made him angrier, and he couldn't help the flare of flames that erupted when Will talked about Layla being cold in bed. He knew otherwise, and the idea of Will being with her, being inside of her, made him feel sick, angry, and cold.
Warren used those sickened and angry emotions every time he fought a villain, and with each foe he defeated, the praise of his superhero ways grew. For a long time, it was only the thought of Will and Layla's relationship that allowed him to power up. He could walk down the street without children being pulled away by their worried mothers; he was thought of only as his own self in regards to his super power, and their praise of his heroic ways did nothing to fan his flames. Then, Layla died. She wasn't even killed by a villain, but rather, a regular non-super kid who robbed a bank to get enough cash for his next hit. Layla had tried to stop him from hurting anyone, and had received a bullet for her troubles.
For months afterwards, Warren couldn't power up. He couldn't feel a thing, couldn't see anything other than Layla's lifeless body in her casket, couldn't even gather enough emotion to cry. After almost three months, Warren woke up in the middle of the night, his arms blazing in anger.
Why had Layla wasted all of those years with Will? She'd obviously wanted to be with him, but she sacrificed her own happiness so he could have his power. And what had it gotten them? She was dead and he was still alone!
The fire had spread from his arms to his bed, the floor, curtains, encompassing the entire room in heat and flames. He walked out of the burning building without attempting to stop the fire or help anyone. His entire body was alight and he was calm as watched everything and everyone burn around him.
People used to say that Warren was his father's son, and soon, they'll remember why.
...
The end.
Thank you for reading!
