"Okay, take it easy, let's do it again," said Johnny, as he stood up at the very edge of his apartment's balcony.
The morning sun hit his face, it was warm and almost blinded him.
Below him, the city was waking up — car horns, distant chatter, the smell of coffee and exhaust drifting through the air. He took a deep breath, bouncing slightly on his heels like a runner before a sprint.
What was he doing? Simple. Trying to fly again.
The right way this time.
He'd spent most of the night replaying last night's disaster in his head — the crash, the naked sprint, the thugs, the fireball. None of it screamed "superhero material." But damn it, he'd actually flown for a few seconds. He just needed control. Focus. Confidence.
And, most importantly… clothes that wouldn't turn into ash.
So, in a stroke of "brilliance," Johnny decided to eliminate that problem entirely.
He was completely, unapologetically naked.
"Alright," he muttered, glancing down at the street. "Early morning, people are too focused on arriving to work, no one's looking up here. It's fine. Totally fine."
He glanced around again, just to be sure. A pigeon on the next balcony tilted its head at him.
"Don't judge me," he said flatly.
Taking a deep breath, he clenched his fists, feeling for that strange warmth inside him. It wasn't quite like turning on a switch — it was more like trying to remember a rhythm, a pulse buried somewhere in his chest.
"C'mon… flame on—"
FWOOOM!
His entire body ignited in a burst of brilliant fire, the heat radiating off him in waves. The flames didn't burn; they warmed him but didn't burn him. And also they made him felt lighter, stronger and above all, feel more alive.
"Oh hell yeah!" Johnny shouted, grinning like a maniac. "Round two, baby!"
He leaned forward slightly… and then dove off the balcony.
For a moment, everything went perfectly — he hovered, hands forward, streaking through the air like a human rocket. The city below blurred into lines of color and movement.
"YES! I GOT IT! I'M DOING IT—"
Then, as suddenly as it started, the flames sputtered.
"Wait, wait, wait—!"
The light around him dimmed, and Johnny felt gravity grab him by the neck. He plummeted, arms flailing, his heroic scream cut through the morning sky while a woman watering her plants two floors down looked up — and dropped her watering can.
"Turn on! Turn on, damn it!" Johnny shouted as he plummeted, the wind tearing the words from his throat.
The city rushed up to meet him — brick, metal, glass, all of it screaming closer every second. His stomach lurched.
"C'mon, don't do this to me now!"
Nothing. There wasn't any heat, or light, or fire — just the sound of air whistling past his ears and his own heartbeat going nuclear.
"Oh, I'm so dead. I'm so—"
Then, suddenly, something echoed inside his head.
A whisper — no, a memory — like if the words were being given to him, not thought by him.
What did I said the first time to turn on the flames? He thought.
However…Johnny blinked.
"What the hell—"
The ground was less than twenty meters away. No time to think, no time to question.
He opened his mouth and screamed the words with every ounce of desperation he had left.
"FLAME ON!"
FWOOOSH!
The world exploded in light. Fire erupted from his body in a blinding flash, as heat rippled through the air. The force of it stopped his fall cold, lifting him just above the ground in a burst of fiery propulsion.
Johnny hovered there for a second, a little stunned — while the air crackled around him, because of his body wrapped in flames and he saw how the pavement below scorched black.
He stared down at himself, laughing in disbelief. "Holy crap… it worked! It actually worked!"
A car alarm went off nearby. A couple across the street dropped their coffees, eyes wide.
Johnny looked at them, still half-shocked, and half-thrilled. "Uh… morning!"
Then he shot upward into the sky, leaving behind a trail of fire and smoke as his laughter echoed through the morning air.
"FLAME OOOOOON!"
Johnny soared through the air like a streak of fire cutting across the morning sky.
This time, he wasn't going to fall to his death, this time he was really flying.
"YEAH, baby!" he shouted, as he flipped midair as the wind whipped against his face. "Now this is how you do it!"
He banked left, then right, testing his control, the flames trailed perfectly behind him like a comet tail. Every move felt natural — like he'd done this a thousand times before. He laughed, exhilarated, and twisted through the clouds.
For a moment, the city below was just noise and color. No problems, no fear — just him and the sky.
Then it hit him.
"Oh crap," he said aloud. "School!"
His eyes widened. "It's Wednesday! I'm late!"
Without hesitation, he pulled into a sharp turn, streaking back toward Midtown like a fiery missile. He could almost hear the sonic boom trailing him as he dropped altitude, darting between rooftops. A few pedestrians on the street looked up, some gasping, some pointing phones to the sky.
Johnny didn't care — he was too busy praying he didn't get detention for this.
He extinguished the flames just before reaching the campus, landing hard on the roof of the gym. Smoke curled off his skin, and that's when he realized something crucial.
"…I'm naked again."
He sighed, running a hand down his face. "Why is it always the naked part?"
Peeking over the edge of the building, he spotted a few students heading to class. Timing his move perfectly, he climbed down a maintenance ladder, darted through a side door, and sprinted through the hallway, ducking behind every corner he could.
A janitor walked by. Johnny froze but managed to hide behind a vending machine.
A teacher turned the corner and Johnny crouched and crab-walked past her door like a stealth operative.
Finally — finally — he reached his locker. He yanked it open and blessed the existence of his spare clothes: a pair of jeans, sneakers, and a T-shirt from gym class.
He threw them on in record time, slammed the locker shut, and exhaled.
"Smooth," he muttered, straightening his shirt. "Nobody saw a thing."
Then, from behind him, a familiar voice said:
"Johnny, why are you changing here?"
Johnny froze.
"…Morning, Eve."
Johnny turned slowly, forcing a grin that was way too wide to be natural.
Eve was standing there, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised — the universal sign of I know something happened.
Her red hair shimmered under the morning sun that filtered through the hallway windows. She eyed him up and down for a moment, her expression softening with mild curiosity.
"Okay… weird question, but—did you lose weight or something?" she asked, tilting her head. "You look… thinner."
Johnny blinked, caught off guard. "Uh—yeah, I guess? I've been… exercising. A little."
"Really?" Eve asked, smiling playfully. "Since when? You don't exactly strike me as a five-a.m.-jog kind of guy."
He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. "Something like that. Let's just say I've been running a lot lately."
She smirked. "From what, fires?"
"Ha-ha," he deadpanned, rolling his eyes. "Very funny."
Her grin widened. "So… why do you look like you just stuck your face in a barbecue, Mr. Exercise?"
Johnny laughed nervously, brushing a hand through his messy hair. "Funny story about that—uh, science experiment went a little… hotter than expected."
Eve arched an eyebrow. "At home? Before school?"
"Yeah! You know me — early riser, always tinkering," he said, trying way too hard to sound casual.
"Right," she said, unconvinced. "And this 'experiment' didn't involve you running naked through the parking lot, did it?"
Johnny froze. "Wh—what? No! Who said that? That's crazy!"
Eve grinned. "Relax, genius. I didn't say I saw you. But the janitor was mumbling something about 'a glowing streak' landing on the roof earlier."
"Pfft," Johnny said, waving it off. "Probably a—uh—meteor."
"A meteor that sneaks into the lockers, huh?" she teased. "Weird how it was wearing your sneakers when it left."
Johnny blinked. "…You've been spying on me."
"Please. You're about as stealthy as a torch in a blackout," she said, chuckling. Then her expression softened. "Seriously, though — are you okay? You look like you haven't slept."
Johnny hesitated, then smiled faintly. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just… figuring some stuff out."
Eve studied him for a second longer, her gaze more thoughtful now — like she sensed there was more beneath the surface.
"Well," she finally said, tapping her notebook against his chest, "try not to blow up the chemistry lab next time. I'm kind of attached to my eyebrows."
He laughed, easing a bit. "No promises."
As she walked past him, she glanced back over her shoulder.
"Oh, and Johnny?"
"Yeah?"
"Next time you decide to do your little morning experiments… maybe wear pants first."
Johnny's mouth opened, but no words came out. He just stood there, his cheeks burning.
When she was gone, he ran a hand down his face and groaned.
"Smooth, Johnny. Real smooth."
Then, under his breath, he muttered, "But totally worth it."
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