Disclaimer: I don't own Icarus. But I do own Raye. TheLostMaximoff owns the plot and basic idea.

Passions Ablaze

Passion. It's kind of like a fire inside of your soul. It sparks interest in something, maybe even someone. You feed the flames until that small spark grows into a tiny fire. Soon enough, that fire becomes an inferno if you feed it long enough and give it enough care. That fire inside can vary in reason. Sometimes the fire's set ablaze for some heroic cause. Sometimes it's the ability to create something; art, poetry, music, anything. Sometimes people have that same fire just because they're alive and they thrive for life ever so passionately. No matter what the fire may be, everyone has it in some form or another. That kind of fire, in my opinion, is the most beautiful kind of fire there is.

And it saddens me to know someone's fire has been snuffed out. They let the fire die, and the embers cool, never to light again because the person has come to face the cold cruelty of reality. It's in those cold clutches you reside in, Joshua Guthrie, afraid to free yourself and light the fire again.

I stare dully at text book in front of me. My eyes trace over the printed words without interest as I listen to Mr. McCoy read through the pages. I'm supposed to be following his lead, along with the rest of the class, but I have other things on my mind. He sits two rows to my right, one seat behind me. Same seat every day, and every day I steal glances at him. I used to try and hide it, make it not so obvious, afraid he may get mad. But not anymore, I feel like there's no real reason to. English Lit. is the only time I can really get to see him outside of Danger Room sessions. It's hard to admire someone when you're fighting to keep your team on top and knock the opposing team on its ass.

I know he's been staring at me, and ever so slowly I glance back him. We make perfect eye contact for a moment, and it makes me blush. Quickly I return to the dull text in front of me, trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach. I, like almost everyone, have a passion as well. I keep it hidden until the time becomes right, and then those embers inside become a hungry inferno. I imagine my fire is something like his. Though he's kept his embers doused and cooled and he won't let his passions out again. I've made it a point to show off my own fire, in more than one way. When I light up the Danger Room with my pyrokinetics, I let my passions out in pure and uncaged fury of flames. Hoping to catch his attention. But I can only keep that fire alight for so long before I become weary and nervous, and when the fire dies, I can tell that brief interest he had in the flames I let out fades as well. I'm afraid to let the fire out more often, afraid to show I'm assertive enough to try and catch his eye.

He's still staring at me, and I shift uncomfortably. I'm hoping he's noticed the fire inside of me enough to try again... To take his broken wings and try to fly again. God knows I'd help him. But I'm sure reality and reason tell him otherwise, that trying to fly and love again would be a bad idea. Nothing short of complete emotional suicide. I don't blame him for it though. After what he's been through, I can only imagine how hard it must be to try and open up again. The thought of being left out in the cold again, and having your heart crushed once more... even I think the thought is unbearable. It makes my heart ache just thinking about it. The first fall must have been so brutal, I would not want to risk another, either.

Being rational is probably his curse. This is what keeps him held down, tied up and bound. Every time I catch a glimpse into his eyes though, I see it there inside of him. I can see the fire begging to come out. And maybe that's what makes me so drawn to him. I have an affinity to fire, and I want to see his. I want to see his fire released and burst out, exploding in all of its potential magnificence. I can only hope that soon he'll let all of it out and let me see that beautiful flame inside of him. I know he wants to let it out and show me, too. But reasoning takes hold again and he kills the fire. His is a fire that burns too hot for even him to hold. He's afraid to be consumed by the flames again, and so he keeps it all locked away inside.

I turn to peek at him again, I really can't take the staring. I can see it in his eyes, the way he wants to let out a fire that could match my own. If he'd let me, I could be his igniter. I could be the spark that lights up his being, burning whatever reasoning he has. He can't survive with only reason and ration, any man who thinks this is beyond foolish in my eyes. Our eyes meet and I make a point to reflect something like a flame in my eyes for him. I want to show him I know. I know how he feels and what he wants, and I want him to know I want and feel the same. We're the type of people who thrive on emotion, Josh and I. But we both guard our already wounded hearts, fearing the raging emotions that may spin out of control. We keep out emotions hidden away almost constantly, never letting them grow. Eventually our emotions would die and our souls would be empty, hollow things.

"But let us turn out attention now to one of the Bard's most famous works." Mr. McCoy's words break my thoughts and cause me to sever the eye contact I had with Josh moments ago.

"Jay?" asks Mr. McCoy, "could I interest you in filling the role of Romeo for this reading?" I glance at him for a moment and notice him blush. He nods. I turn my attention away from him, and notice Mr. McCoy looking at me.

"Raye, will you be our Juliet?" he asks. I blush deeply, my face practically boiling as I look back at Josh, then back to Mr. McCoy.

"Okay,"I reply quietly and shyly. I can feel Josh still looking at me, and it makes my blush all the worse for a moment.

"Splendid," Beast says with a small smile. "Then let us proceed onward."

Now it's my turn to stare at Josh. He looks at me and catches me looking so intently at him. I can see it in his face as he looks directly into my eyes. The fire inside is breaking loose, melting away the cold ice of ration and reason. I can see he wants to fly on those broken wings again. That fire inside of him wants to mesh together tune and verse again. Will he be the Romeo to my Juliet? I can see it so clearly in his eyes now; he's ready to be consumed in the fires of his passion. It's better to writhe in the flames than let reason snuff out the fire completely.

-End