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Porter smiles when he sees a column of smoke rising from harsh flames in a small abandoned house on the side of the road. Dillon is seated next to him on top of a small hill nearby, simply enjoying the view of bright oranges and reds against cold black smoke. This isn't the first time they've done this. The fire department hates them, but don't even know who they are. They set around six other fires before this, burning more rundown buildings than any other serial arsonist in this town before them, and sometimes, they would find people hurt in the middle of the fire, burns winding up their arms and legs. The sight of a person caught in one of their fires was enough to make anyone gasp, possibly even heave. The possibilities of someone getting caught up in their fires were slim, however, as Porter always made sure it was safe. Always. ——— The next day, Dillon brushes past Porter in the hallway. He smells like pure gasoline and matches; and Porter loves it. To Dillon, Porter smells like smoke and the heat of the fires, and he smiles to himself, knowing he ignited something in Porter that he never knew he had. ——— Later on, during the night, Porter sneaks out to find Dillon in the same spot he usually is; in a small clearing in the woods, flicking his lighter on and off and simply admiring the way the dancing yellow flame looks against the cool, deep blue of the night. Dillon acknowledges Porter's presence, but doesn't move an inch, and mutters a small 'hey' before getting up, walking towards the trees, and motioning for Porter to follow him. ——— Now, here they sit; in a aged wooden shed, with Dillon yet again flicking his lighter on and off for around a minute before Porter speaks up. "Dill, get out, I wanna spread the gasoline." Dillon nods and does as he's told, walking out of the shack like it wasn't about to get burnt down by a pair of sixteen-year-old pyromaniacs. ——— The next morning, the news reports another fire, and Porter's foster carers don't seem to raise suspicion at the fact that he's always out at night and the fact that he's always smelling like heat and matches and smoke. Neither do Dillon's. ——— That night, they do as they please, with jerry cans full of gasoline and more matches and lighters than they'd ever had before. This was the night they'd finally get what they wanted. They'd finally burn a fire so large that it'd be almost impossible to stop, and all in one spot. ——— A few days afterwards, Porter is sitting next to his only other friend in this school, Hugo, and said friend begins rambling about the fires. Porter shifts uncomfortably in his seat, scared that he and Dillon had been caught and would be sent to a juvenile home yet again. But, instead, what Hugo says is that they've finally figured out who was setting the fires, and that it seemed as though he had gotten caught up in one himself. They had found the body of a sixteen year old male, and the burn patterns indicate that it wasn't an accident. Porter's heart skipped a beat. 'Dillon hasn't been at school today, and he's the only one besides me who could've set another fire.' Porter could've sworn he felt tears threatening to spill, daring to push him into panic mode. Before Hugo could even finish his sentence, Porter quickly got up and made a run for it, not caring who saw or what they thought. Once outside and far away from the school he would never visit again, Porter runs towards the clearing they always meet at, only this time, Dillon wasn't there, and Porter felt more alone than he has in years. He digs through his pockets to find Dillon's black see-through lighter and flicks it on and off. The dancing yellow flame reminds him of the reflection in Dillon's eyes as they would watch what others created be slowly burnt and destroyed, and loving every minute of it. The translucent dark colour of the lighter reminds Porter of the way Dillon would hold his hand while taking him back to his foster parent's home, which Porter refuses to call his own, because his home was with Dillon, and how Dillon said that the colour of the smoke matches the colour of Porter's hair. Funnily enough, all this happened while he was wearing Dillon's gasoline-stained jacket, and Porter thought too many times about bringing the lighter just that little bit closer, but never did, because he knows that isn't what Dillon would want. Dillon would want Porter to carry on his series of fires, spreading from town to town until eventually, the whole world would be engulfed in their fire.