by TJ Klune
I’ll be back! I promise. After all, Nash and Pyro Storm are still about to get down and dirty, and I’d hate to leave them (and you!) with blue balls.
See you soon,
PyroStormIsBae
March came to Nova City with an icy grip, temperatures plummeting, though the worst storms stayed up north. Nick was of the mind that if it was going to be this cold, then the city should be blanketed with snow so he could stay in bed until spring with his own personal space heater in the form of Seth.
But it was probably for the best, especially since he found himself standing on the roof of a building on the first Saturday of the month, peering over the edge, trying to convince himself that if he fell, it wouldn’t be that big of a drop. If anything, he could probably grab onto the metal stairs that lined the outside of the building. Thirty feet, max. Maybe forty. But he could do this.
“I don’t think you can do this,” Jazz said, standing next to him and peering over the edge. “I mean, I’m all for a montage, but I thought we’d start a little smaller. Maybe some cappuccinos in a cozy coffee shop while we discussed what your potential Extraordinary name could be.”
Now that he was here, Jazz’s idea sounded much better than what he had planned, but he couldn’t back down just because of something as inconsequential as becoming a smear on the pavement.
“I’d really appreciate it if you all backed away from the edge of the roof slowly.”
They turned to see Gibby looking pale, her mouth curved down. She was wringing her hands, her breath pouring from her mouth in a thick cloud.
“What’s wrong?” Nick asked.
“She’s afraid of heights,” Jazz told him. “It’s cute.”
“I’m not afraid of heights,” Gibby snapped. “I’m not afraid of anything. Just because I don’t want to watch Nick splatter on the ground doesn’t mean I’m scared.”
“So cute,” Jazz breathed.
Nick shook his head, not wanting to get caught up in their flirting, even though it was ridiculously endearing. “I don’t know what my Extraordinary name will be. I can’t decide that until I know what I can do.”
“Which is why you want to jump off a building,” Jazz said. “That doesn’t make any sense and actually might make things worse. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but this is objectively a dumb idea.”
Nick rolled his eyes. “We tried jumping off the porch for the first part of the montage. It didn’t work because it was too small. We tried jumping from the roof of my house, but before I could climb the ladder, Seth threw a snowball at my head, and I couldn’t let that go without an appropriate response.”
“Why do you have to jump off anything?” Gibby asked in a strangled voice. “Why can’t you move cups again?”
Patience, Nick knew, was a virtue and a sign of a good Extraordinary. If he had any hope to become just that, then he needed to listen to the concerns of his friends and not make them feel lesser for sharing. “Because my powers seem to come out only when I’m super pissed off or scared or some other heightened emotion yet to be discovered. And since I don’t want to be mad today, I figure it’s better to be scared by jumping off a building.”
“This is why men don’t live as long as women,” Jazz said. “It’s not your fault. It’s your penis that’s making you do this.”
“Not all men have penises,” Nick reminded her.
“True, but you don’t see them up here trying to jump off a building, do you?”
“But they also can’t move stuff with their minds,” he said. He paused, considering. “Well, not that we know of. Oh my god, wait. There have to be trans Extraordinaries! Do you think we’ll get to meet them?”
“Probably,” Jazz said. “I’ve personally met an absurd number of queer Extraordinaries. Poor straight people. They really don’t get to have much, aside from fake-white Jesus, do they?”
They took a moment of silence for the heterosexuals of the world. When enough time had passed (six seconds—straights didn’t need that much sympathy), Nick clapped his hands and said, “Okay! I think I’m ready to do this. Once Seth gets into position, I’ll…” He peered over the edge again. Had the building gotten taller? It sure seemed like the ground was further away. “Jump, I guess.”
“I feel like we should talk about this more,” Gibby said quickly. “Like, a lot more. Weigh the pros and cons. Make a list! Yes, a list. Nicky, you love making lists.”
“I do,” Nick agreed. “But I know what you’re doing, and I won’t be distracted.”
“Seth agreed to this?” Jazz asked.
“Sort of?” Nick said. “I mean, there might have been some yelling and also some crying, but then I remembered that tears can be manipulative, so I said he could catch me if it looked like it wasn’t going to work. It pays to have a boyfriend who can fly.”
“Yeah,” Jazz said. “Still not used to hearing that.” She glanced at Nick, expression softening. “How’re things with your dad?”
Nick groaned. He’d been waiting for that question. After his confrontation with Dad, things had been weird. They were walking on eggshells around each other, Dad trying too hard to make up for all the shit he’d kept a secret. Every morning, a full breakfast. Every night, dinner that didn’t need to be heated in the microwave. “Weird,” Nick said. “It’s getting better but it’s going to take time. Just when I think we might be on the mend, I have to do things like vet the new doctor he found to make sure they’re not connected to Burke at all.”
“New meds?” Jazz asked gently.
Nick scratched the back of his neck, uncomfortable. “New meds. I’m still getting used to them, but they don’t seem to be too bad. I can think without my brain exploding, so that’s good.”
“Speaking of brains exploding,” Gibby said. “I will not go to your funeral if that happens, closed casket or not.”
“Her parents aren’t happy,” Jazz told him.
“About the school thing?” Nick asked, watching Gibby rant about the idiocy of queer teenage boys. He knew it was probably a whole hell of a lot more than just the school thing, but he didn’t know what else to ask without making it sound like he was protecting his father and his job.
Jazz shook her head. “No, they’re mostly okay with that. They went on a campus tour of NCU, and I think they’re coming around. It’s what she wants, and she’s managed to convince them it’s her idea and has nothing to do with us, which is somewhat true. It helps that she’s gonna be valedictorian.”
And even though Gibby was insulting him in the background, a swell of pride roared through Nick’s chest. “Damn right she is. Smarter than anyone we know. Her speech is going to be epic. But it’s not just about school, is it?”
Jazz sighed. “Your dad. And the NCPD in general.”
“Yeah,” Nick muttered. “I thought as much. They’re right, you know.”
“I know. My parents aren’t very happy, either, but I’ve managed to talk them down from sending me to private school in Switzerland, which is good because I don’t even know where that is.”
Nick scowled. “Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me. He’s got a lot of shit to make up for, if he even can. You should have seen the look on his face when he came back from meeting with Martha and Bob. He said she didn’t even offer him any cookies.”
“Whoa,” Jazz whispered. “She gives cookies to everyone.”
He was about to say that was how he knew she meant business when he heard a voice shout up at them. He looked over the edge of the roof again to see Seth standing in the alley below them. Nick gulped at how tiny he looked. He was at least six thousand feet down.
Nick waved back, ignoring how panicked Seth looked. He needed to be in the right headspace. He couldn’t let doubt seed in his head. If it did, he wouldn’t be able to jump off the roof of what had to be the tallest building in Nova City.
Nick took a step back, tilting his head side to side, popping his neck. He shook himself out, wiggling his entire body from his shoulders down to his
toes. He looked across from them at the other building, pausing when he thought he saw a flash of movement. Probably a pigeon.
“Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do this. One time—that’s all it takes. And when I do it and live”—he shot a glare at Gibby, who rolled her eyes—“we’ll go celebrate by getting our fancy clothes for prom, which is not the best way to celebrate, but I agreed to it anyway because that’s the only way you said you’d come.”
Jazz sniffed. “I won’t have you looking like crap when we make our entrance. It’s going to be the biggest night of our lives.” She leaned forward, dropping her voice. “And don’t forget, we need to go buy condoms in case you and Seth decide to … you know.”
The sound Nick made was one he wasn’t proud of, a low wheeze that was better suited for the brakes on a city bus. She was right. Always be prepared. The measuring tape he’d used cemented the fact that he didn’t need Magnums, much to his consternation, but he was sure they made condoms for someone who was … well, average. For his age. Cosmo told him there was a chance he’d get bigger as he got older, but he needed to learn to work with what he had. After all, it wasn’t the size that mattered, but what you could do with it. That also came from Cosmo, in an article titled “So You’re Average? Guess What? That’s Okay!” He’d read it enthusiastically, nodding along with the carefully placed platitudes that assuaged his ego, all the while wondering if Seth would be in the same boat, or if he was hiding some kind of monster that probably only existed in fics and porn—which then, of course, sparked a bit of inspiration: Nash Bellin and Pyro Storm, trapped in a mountain cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, and wouldn’t you know? There was only one bed, and then Pyro Storm would take off his pants, and underneath, there’d be … he’d have a …
“Right,” he choked out. “The condoms. How could I forget?”
Jazz shook her head. “If you can’t even talk about rubbers without blushing, you aren’t ready. Don’t do anything you don’t want to do, Nick. You only get your first time once.”
“Did you—do you and Gibby—”
“Have sex? Yes, but we talked about it a lot before we ever decided to do it. There was some trial and error, but Gibby can do this thing with her tongue that is … absolutely not helping this conversation, by the look on your face.”
“Congratulations on all the sex,” Nick managed to say before coughing roughly.
“Thank you,” Jazz said primly. “We’re very good at it.”
“One thing at a time,” he said. “First, I’ll jump off a building, and then we can go buy condoms.”
“And lube,” Jazz said. “You’ll need lots and lots of lube. Like an entire vat of lube.”
“Stop saying lube!” he bellowed at her as he backed away from the edge of the roof, bouncing on his feet. One jump. That’s all it would take. One jump, and if it didn’t work, Seth would be there to catch him. Do it. Just do it and get it over with.
Raising his hands above his head, he yelled, “It’s time to take out the trash!”
“Nicky, no!” Gibby moaned.
“Nicky, yes!”
And then he ran for the edge of the roof.
He stopped right before the edge. “Okay, that was a practice one to get me in the groove. Only seventeen more of those, and we’ll be in business.”
Gibby sighed. “I can’t believe I’m wasting another Saturday with this.”
* * *
Ten minutes later, he’d run to the edge sixteen more times. Gibby had given up on him and was watching cat videos on her phone. Jazz, ever the cheerleader, stood next to Nick, rubbing his shoulders, saying You got this, champ; I believe in you, sport; you’re golden, bud. And while Nick appreciated her support, he stopped her when she began telling him that she always thought of him as a son.
What he didn’t tell her—or any of them, for that matter—was that this very building was one his father had told him about. That his mother had come here with the same idea in mind after she’d revealed what she could do. Dad had been terrified, standing on the ground below, waiting for her to jump. She hadn’t stalled like Nick was currently doing; Dad had told him that she was fearless to the point of lunacy. She’d vaulted off the roof of the building and fallen so fast that Dad had thought she was going to die right in front of him.
She hadn’t. It hadn’t even been close.
Halfway down, she’d just … stopped.
“Brave,” he whispered. “Be brave.”
Everything else melted away. Jazz, Gibby, the birds screeching on the roof opposite them, the cold air, the honking of car horns from the street below—all of it was gone, and the only thing Nick could hear was the sound of his quick breaths, the thundering of his heart.
And in his head, a flash of pressure, a bit of pain.
Gibby said, “Maybe we should—Nick!”
She must have seen the moment indecision was replaced by conviction. Wind whipped through his hair as he pumped his arms and legs, teeth gritted, skin slick with sweat despite the winter chill.
The edge of the roof grew closer and closer.
He jumped.
And immediately regretted all his life’s choices.
He began to fall, screaming, “Mistake! I’ve made a mistake, oh my god, what is wrong with me?” He plummeted toward the ground, Seth already at a crouch, licks of fire blooming around his feet, ready to rocket up and catch Nick so he didn’t freaking die in an alley wearing underwear with buffalo printed on them. He hoped the coroner wouldn’t make fun of him when performing the autopsy.
He closed his eyes—and there, in the darkness, was a little ball of light, a spark floating. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around it. It was warm and soft and he clutched it close, keeping it safe, holding it tight—
The wind stopped slamming into him.
“Holy shit,” he heard Seth breathe, sounding much closer than he’d been before.
“Am I dead?” Nick asked in a quivering voice.
“Uh, no? You’re … doing it.”
Nick opened his eyes.
The ground was at least ten feet below him, Seth looking up at him, mouth forming an O. Nick tilted his head back to see Gibby and Jazz above him, staring down, eyes wide and shocked.
He was floating.
“Ha!” he cried. “I did it! Yes. Yes! Take that, Mr. Baker, who in fourth grade said that I lacked follow-through! Suck it, you bastard! I’m doing it because I’m—”
Extraordinary was how he would have finished, except he happened to look into the window of the building across from him. Inside, two children were staring out at him, jaws dropped. They had to be only six or seven years old.
He waved at them.
They screamed.
Startled, Nick tried to rear back, but he was floating in midair with nothing but the power of his mind. And said mind blanked out at the sound of overdramatic children.
He dropped a couple of feet in an instant, his stomach rising into his throat. “Abort! Abort!” he cried as he dropped again.
“I’ve got you!” Seth shouted from underneath him, but that did little to calm Nick, seeing as how he’d advanced from the five-pound barbells to the seven-pound barbells, meaning his body was much, much heavier than ever before.
The breath was knocked from his chest as he landed on top of Seth, both collapsing to the ground in a heap of limbs.
“Ow,” Seth said.
Nick blinked down at him before grinning. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Seth said, fighting a smile. “That went better than I expected.”
Nick leaned down and kissed the tip of his nose. “You make a very good landing pad.”
Seth laughed. “You did it, Nicky. Oh my god, you did it!”
He’d done it.
He’d done it.
He didn’t even realize he was crying until Seth said, “Hey, hey, Nicky, it’s okay. You’re okay.”
“I know,” he sobbed. “I’m pretty much the best thing ever. You’re
so lucky to have me.”
“I really am,” Seth said.
He raised his head once more, tears streaming down his face, looking up at the pale blue sky above them. Gibby and Jazz were gone, most likely on their way down to congratulate Nick for having the best ideas. He startled when he thought he saw someone looking down at them from the opposite building, their head backlit by the gray sky. But when he blinked, the shape was gone.
* * *
Nick sat slumped in a chair outside of a dressing room, making faces at a bank of mirrors on the wall next to him. Jazz was in the changing room with the door shut, trying on yet another dress, searching for the perfect one. Nick had told her she wore the hell out of every dress she’d shown him so far, and while she’d beamed at him, she said that he wasn’t allowed to decide what she looked good in. Nick tried to argue but was immediately shot down when she reminded him the suit he’d decided on was an affront to fashion. Which, fair point.
Nick had tried on suit after suit, lamenting at how ridiculous he looked. He didn’t see the point in getting so dressed up, especially when he’d most likely lose the tie and coat as prom night wore on.
He’d been about to give up—all while groaning that he didn’t even know how to dance and Seth was going to dump him for stepping on his feet—when the clerk had reappeared, followed by Jazz, who looked like she was about to laugh. Nick wanted to know what was so funny, but the words died in his throat when he saw what the clerk was carrying.
“What the hell is that?” he breathed.
The clerk looked down at the suit he carried on a hanger. “This? The last time I rented this out, it was for a magician performing at a child’s birthday party under the name The Tremendous Carl. He died. Lead in the face paint he used. Your friend seems to think this is more your style, and who I am to argue, so long as your credit card isn’t declined?”
The pants were fine. They were black, nothing special. But the coat? Holy shit, the coat was the stuff technicolor dreams were made of. It, too, was black but sequined, the lapels a violent shade of purple that had to be a crime against humanity. The bow tie that hung from the hanger was also sequined, glittering in the recessed lighting.