When Fire Came to the World

I'm not sure what first drew my attention to you, but once captured, there was no hope for release. You fill my day with your smile, your laugh, that cheery look across your pale, freckled face. You're stunning, in every cliché way possible. But apparently, I'm the only one that sees this.
My friends and my cousin often tease me until I'm pink in the cheeks, laughing as I mutter my denial with my shoulders up around my ears. But they never take it to heart, as we all know I'm lying. I'm thankful for them, as they keep me grounded when you're around, reminding me to wipe the drool from my chin if you turn my way, or snapping me from my latest day dream if you ask me a question. I may have gained a reputation for being oblivious at the best of times, but for some reason, when it comes to you, I notice everything.
Which is, unfortunate.
I'm not sure when in started, but maybe it's a good thing I don't pay much attention during maths. I can't help it; as soon as those numbers and letters- which, by the way, should have never been integrated- start to worm their way across the paper in a fuzzy conga line, my gaze just happens to slip two seats ahead to the row on my right. And there you sit, nibbling on your pencil, or rubbing your face in frustration as you frown down at your problems, and I smile slightly, as it's rather cute. Though, the other day that smile slipped away into confusion, when I noticed the girl behind you kick your seat. At first, I thought it was an accident, but when she continued to kick it, earning the encouraging giggles from her companions, I was rather shocked. I'm sorry, I'm ashamed to admit, that…I turned away then, pretending I didn't see the sad expression on your face, wishing it all to be a bad dream.
Unfortunately, now that I had seen that one incident, I saw the rest. Like at lunch a few weeks ago, you had been sitting with those same girls, all giggling and gossiping, looking like you were having a ball. I was rather disheartened, as I had been hoping to invite you to sit with me and my friends, but also a tad confused about how the girl mind works. It truly baffles me. But this confusion disappeared when you walked into class late, red rimmed eyes and a mysterious stain on your shoulder that looked suspiciously like the pudding from lunch. You must have noticed my staring, as you quickly pulled your long, beautiful red locks over said shoulder, and plastered a confident smile on your face, which blindsided me for the rest of the period. It went forgotten until a few days later, when the same girls tripped you over in PE. You tried to say that it was your fault- that you had tripped over a stone- but I had seen the designer shoe purposely placed. I admired the way you brushed it off and continued on, but despite the amount of ease and assurance you put into your stride, I noticed the limp. Again, I'm ashamed that I did nothing. I'm so sorry.
Instead, I stuck to my daydreams, of holding your little hand in mine as we walked, or trying to control the urge to run my hands through those flame-like locks. Seriously women, do you have any idea the effect you have on my young wishful heart? So, when those desires came true, it wasn't exactly in the way I had hoped.
Just today, I had finally built up the confidence to talk to you. You had smiled and commented on how it had taken me a while, chuckling at my blush. You had introduced yourself-
"Ferdinanda Paige. But call me FP."
-and I had almost fainted in shock when your warm little hand had touched mine, mind still reeling over how gorgeous your name sounded. I was sad that you declined my invitation to lunch, saying you were meeting up with some other friends, but it must have been because of my haze, that I missed the plea in your voice, for me to rescue you, because when I next saw you, you were struggling to hide the tears, those same girls surrounding you as they rubbed their hands together and held them over your head, as if warming them from the heat of your embarrassment and fiery hair. Which was covered in chilli, beans threaded all throughout the matted strands. It taken me this long, but I finally became your hero (or so I like to believe), swooping in to deliver justice upon those girls. I didn't make a huge scene, as I knew you wouldn't appreciate it. But I'm pretty sure their screams of horror at their pudding and chilli filled bags was enough cover for me to usher you from the scene, to the hose out the back.
As I helped pick out those horrible beans, and wash the mince from your hair, you just sat in silence, watching me from beneath your bangs as if I was some kind of intriguing display at the zoo. You didn't say a word about what had happened, just listening to me prattle on about anything and everything that popped into mind. Even after you were tidy once again, sitting in the sun to dry, you remained silent, the only sound being the steady drip of water from the recently used hose. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore, and I just had to ask.
"Why?"
You were silent for a couple of beats before turning to fix me with a thoughtful gaze. You didn't need me to elaborate; we both knew where this conversation was going.  
"'Why?' Good question. Why do we humans wish to be accepted into a society that so cruelly judges and discriminates? Why do we show defiance if things don't go our way? Why do we do the things we do Finn?"
I had never heard you speak for so long, and I suddenly felt incredibly dumb compared to you. But you batted that away with a small smile as you reached out to take my hand.
"Everyone longs to be accepted Finn. I guess, hanging out with those girls, I had wished we would eventually become friends. My mum has always said I can accomplish anything I set my mind to."
"That's really motivating of your mum, but seriously FP? Those girls were pretending that you were some kind of fire place. How the glob can you ignore that?"
You bit at your lip for a moment, mulling over something, before blowing away a drip of water that had been hanging on the tip of your nose.
"You want to know what else my mum says?" You murmur, staring into some forgotten time, "She tells me, that I have a fire for a heart. And that it's because of this small fire inside of me, that I'm kind and warm- literally- and that my temper is harder to keep in check. It flows through me, colouring every aspect of me, hence my red hair. Some days, fire can be dangerous, and difficult to handle, but if you nurture it properly, it can light up the whole day."
"Wow…your mum sounds mathematical."
You giggle and tighten your grip on my hand, smiling slightly at me.
"Yeah, she's amazing." You hum in agreement before suddenly becoming sombre once more. "But the world isn't always as accepting of fire people- that's what she calls me- as others are. Some times, it does nothing more than rain."
A small sniffle escapes, and I automatically reach out to draw you into my arms. You quiver against me, soaking wet and miserable, your once bright hair dull and lank, but you're slowly starting to warm up. I say nothing as you cry, just listening as you take a shaky breath and whisper, "It hurts, Finn, it hurts."