The Boy With The Silver Lighter **ON HIATUS**

**Sequel to 'The Boy With The Red Sunglasses'.** It has been a week since the funeral of Evelyn James, a funeral that shouldn't have happened. Because Evelyn is not dead, although she might as well be. With the order to stay away from her friends, family and the boy she loves, Evelyn has no choice but to go back to the boy who caused her death - the boy with the silver lighter.


5. Dreams

**Evelyn's POV**


I can feel the heat. The pressure of the flames in my body is tearing my body apart. It's excruciating. The fire won't stop. There's so much of it. More and more and more. I can't handle it. There's no way I can save those people. I'm going to die and they're going to die with me. Call me selfish, but I don't want to die for no reason. I struggle to maintain my position, flailing my arms, reaching out to grab something, anything. I scream. A scream so painful, I can barely relate it to myself. I don't want to die! I want to get out! I want to live my life! I want to be back in Scott's arms. Safe. I call his name, but I know he cannot save me. This is it. I'm going to die!

"Scott!" My own voice pulls me from my dream. I am panting heavily, struggling to breathe through my sobs. It's the same dream again - every night since the day that I died. I sit bolt upright, tears staining my cheeks and push the duvet from my body. Its warmth just reminds me of the flames in my dream. I notice that I am still dressed in my clothes, and they are soaked through with sweat. Blinking, my eyes become accustomed to the low light and I begin to take in my surroundings. Where am I? My heart begins to pound. What am I doing here? What is this place? How did I-
"Evelyn!" I hear loud, fast footsteps to my right, which make me jump. I scramble backwards on the bed, trying to escape, but just getting tangled in the sheets.
"Go away!" I squeal, sending a ball of flames towards the sounds.
"Woah!" The fire disappears, but not before it allows me glimpse of who is beside me. John? Suddenly, the memories of yesterday flood back. I'm living with John now.
"J-John?" I bring my knees up to my chest and make myself as small as possible.
"It's me." He flicks on a small lamp on the nightstand beside the bed. "I'm not going to hurt you."
"I'm s-sorry." I stutter through the sobs. "I was j-just f-frightened."
"I know. It's okay." He sits on the bed and pulls me into a hug. "What's wrong?"
"Just a d-dream." I whisper. He releases me slowly, but I stop him when I notice the marks on his arm. "I burnt you..."
"It's no big deal." He lies; I can feel his pain through our connection.
"Here." I place his arm over my lap carefully (although apparently not carefully enough, as he winces twice). I hover my hands over the red marks and blisters that have already emerged on his skin, recalling that night in the church when I healed Bobby's burned hands.
"What are you doing?" John's confusion is obvious.
"Shhh." I order, trying to reorder my thoughts after the terrible dream tore them apart. I flex my fingers lightly and close my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I visualize the heat being removed from his skin and trailing up into my fingers. I spend a few minutes working on this until risking a look at John's arm. I sigh when I notice that the marks are almost entirely gone. I look at my palms to see the ugly wounds that have transferred to my hands, but feel no pain.
"How?" John gasps.
"Just a trick I learnt a while back." I stroke the back of my hand over his skin lightly. "I'm sorry."
"But what about your hands?" He takes my wrists and reveals my visibly healing palms. It's strange, but the marks and blisters seem to be so well healed already. I assume it's because it's my own flames, as the scars on my wrist and hand from the burns John gave me on the night we spent together still remain, after two weeks.
"They're fine. I don't feel burns." I reassure him.
"That's hardly fair!" He jokes. "So, you get the ability to create fire AND you don't get hurt by burns, and I'm just stuck here unable to do anything without a lighter and dying when someone burns me?"
"Pretty much." I yawn. I freeze when I realize where I am and what John is wearing. "John..."
"Yeah?" He replies mindlessly, inspecting the near-flawless, healed skin on his arm.
"Why am I in your bed? And why are you only wearing your underwear?" He looks up to meet my eyes at the sound of the words. "Oh god! We didn't-"
"No." A small smile traces his lips. "You fell asleep on me, so I brought you up here. I'm on the couch. Or, at least, I was. I came up here as soon as your scream woke me up."
"Sorry." I reply timidly.
"It's fine." He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "What was the dream about?"
"The day with the bomb. I just keep reliving it." I shudder at the thought. "It's horrible."
"Oh." He replies simply, his guilt and sympathy more than evident.
"Do you have anything I could sleep in please?" I ask, quickly changing the subject. "I used to sleep in Scott's shirt, but now..." I trail off. Talking about Scott just hurts now.
"Oh, sure." He leans over the edge of the bed and retrieve a shirt from one of the drawers beneath it. He sits up quickly and throws the shirt at me. "There."
"Thanks." I blush. I turn my back to him and remove my sweaty shirt.
"Oh, you're just going to..." He is obviously shocked by my actions. "Okay... Ummm..."
"Relax, John." I slip his shirt over my head. It's not the same. Scott's shirt always felt more comfortable and smelt heavenly. I stand from the bed and remove my jeans and socks. John's shirt is slightly shorter on my body than Scott's was, ending right at the top of my thighs.
"You... You look good." John blinks over the bed at me.
"I'm going to bed; I don't need to look good." I roll my eyes, pushing all memory of my dream away.
"But you do." He whispers as I sit back down beside him.
"I'm sorry for waking you up, and throwing fire at you." I look down at the bed sheets awkwardly.
"I love you, Evelyn." He smiles softly.
"John..." I say his name cautiously, as the foolish idea consumes my mind. "I'm really lonely. I need someone here with me." I shuffle closer to him. What am I doing?
"I'm here." He takes my hands in his and rests his forehead against mine.
"Take away the loneliness, John. Show me what it's like to be loved again." I beg.
"Evelyn, I don't-"
"Kiss me." I cut him off. He doesn't answer. Instead, his lips connect quickly with my own. This is one of the many things that I have missed over the last two weeks; a kiss. And yet, it still doesn't feel right. I shouldn't be kissing John. I like him a lot. And he's been a good friend to me. But I can't fight the feeling that I should be kissing Scott right now. I should always be kissing Scott.But Scott's not an option anymore. I have to stay away. I can't risk hurting him any more than I already have.
"Evelyn," John pulls back from me. "When you’re kissing me, can you at least try to think that you want to?"
"What?" I fiddle with my hair nervously.
"I can hear you thoughts remember." He replies, turning his sad face away from mine. "It would be nice to know that you're not just kissing me because I'm a backup for the X-Man."
"No, John! I-"
"I know you don't feel the same way for me as I do for you, but can't you hide it any better?" I place my hand on his cheek and direct his face back to mine.
"You have to understand, I do still love Scott - I don't think I'll ever stop loving him. But I have feelings for you too. You need to believe me when I tell you that I want you." I'm not lying. I do want him. Due to our connection, John has never really been 'just a friend'.
"There's only so long I can pretend that being second best doesn't hurt me." Wow. I've never seen him so open and vulnerable before.
"I told you that if I wasn't with Scott, things would be different. I wasn't lying." His eyes flick up to meet mine. "And I'm not with Scott now."
"No, but you might as well be." He sighs. "Your heart still belongs to him."
"John, I can't just get over it." I confess. "Do you remember what it was like when you thought I was dead? That's what I'm going through with Scott now."
"Whatever." He uses the word so often that I now see that it's simply a way of him exiting an awkward situation. He stands from the bed. I quickly take his wrist, pulling him back. I can't let him think I don't care about him.
"Kiss me again." I order.
"What? No. You just-"
"Kiss me, John." I say the words slower and more forcefully now.
"Evelyn. I can't do that." He whispers. I kneel up on the bed so that our faces are level.
"Kiss me." I growl.
"Yes." I whisper, placing my hands both sides of his face and direct his lips to mine. I kiss him softly. He pushes lightly on my shoulders for a moment in protest, but quickly submits to the kiss.
"You mean more to me than you know." I confess through our connection.
"I love you." He replies, obviously either forgetting or ignoring the previous conversation. I drape my arms over his shoulders and deepen the kiss. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me closer.
"Don't ever think I don't need you." I whisper, breaking our connection. "I really like you, John. It’s just, there's no way I can get over this easily. I've had to give up everything I love."
"I know." He sighs. "I should go. You need to get some sleep."
"John," I let the first genuine smile in two weeks takes hold of my lips.
"I mean, we have to get up to go shopping in a few hours, right?" He smirks and runs his fingers through my bangs gently.
"John, you don't have to sleep on the couch." I whisper.
"I was joking earlier, Evelyn. There's no way I'd let you sleep on there."
"Stay." I say simply. After my dream, I don't want to be alone.
"Stay... Here? With you?" He sounds so innocent and surprised. It's cute
"Yes, John. With me." I bite my lip lightly, looking up at him.
"No." I cut him off. "Please. I don't want to be alone."
"Oh... Ummm... Okay. S-sure." He stutters awkwardly. "You want me to put some clothes on?"
"Shut up and come to bed." I laugh. He kisses me quickly, before climbing into bed with me.
"I love you." He whispers.
I can’t deny that I feel safe in his arms, but as I drift into a soft sleep, I can’t help thinking this is wrong.
I should be with Scott.

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