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“Is that—” Gibby said, squinting down at the screen. “You really made a Twitter account.”
“And we already have over two hundred followers,” Nick said excitedly.
“No,” Seth moaned, rocking back and forth. “No, no, no.”
Nick pulled out his own phone, opening Twitter before he shoved it at Seth. “See?”
“‘Hello,’” Seth read as Nick mouthed along silently. “‘This is Pyro Storm. Villains, run in fear! It’s time to burn.’” He looked up at Nick. “It’s time toburn? Isn’t that in your fic? You called it a—”
“—catchphrase,” Nick said promptly. “The more Pyro Storm says it, the better the chance it’ll catch on. I workshopped it, and that was the best one. Which means I’ll need you to say it as often as possible.”
“Workshopped it withwho?” Seth asked.
“Myself in my room.”Duh.
“And what’s this all for?” Jazz asked. “Why does Pyro Storm need this?”
“Ah! I’m so glad you asked. Thank you, Jazz. The reason is simple: Seth deserves to be compensated for his time. He’s done years of service for the people of Nova City; it’s time he’s appreciated for everything he’s done. I was also thinking about a dedicated YouTube channel where we could get Pyro Storm to attach a GoPro camera to his helmet and take people on a virtual tour of Nova City, but that’s still in the planning stages. And, as his brand manager, I’ll make it my mission to—”
“Brandmanager?” Seth growled, and Nick didnotswoon at the Pyro Storm in his voice. “I don’t need a brand manager.”
“You do,” Nick said. “You just don’t know it yet. Trust me, okay? I won’t let anything bad get tweeted at you or about you. I’ve already got a new hashtag in mind to help promote fairness and equality. Ready? Hashtag #WWPSD—What Would Pyro Storm Do. Get it? It’s like you’re Jesus, but you can light things on fire, when he only did stuff with fish and wine or whatever.”
“That’s blasphemy,” Seth reminded him.
Nick waved dismissively. “He’ll forgive me. I have a feeling he likes gay people, so. And look! I haven’t even told you about the Instagram account, which Jazz will oversee, since she’s artistic AF.”
“I am,” Jazz said. “It’s one of my gifts.”
“It is,” Nick agreed. “And since we all seem to be on the same page with this, I’ll—”
“We’re not,” Seth said.
“We’re … not?” Nick looked at his phone, then back at Seth. “Is something wrong? I can go through it again, if you want.”
Seth shook his head. “I don’t need you to do that, Nick. What I want you to do islistento me.”
“I am,” Nick assured him. “I always—”
“You don’t,” Seth retorted. Nick tried to hide his flinch, but he wasn’t sure how successful he was. “You guys don’t get what it’s like. You think it’s all fun and heroics and saving the day. It’s not. It’s barelyeventhat. I’m tired all the time, my back hurts, my grades are slipping. All I want to do some days is stay in bed and not move for as long as possible. You could never understand what I’m going through because you all get to be normal, whether you want to be or not.”
That stung. It didn’t feel like it was supposed to be a dig at him, but there it was all the same.
Seth’s voice hardened as he continued. “Do you know what I would give to be like you? To be able to go one day without worrying if someone is going to get hurt on my watch?” He snatched his phone back from Gibby. “I’d give anything to only care about shit like this.”
“That’s not fair,” Jazz said. “Because wedoknow what it’s like to worry. We worry about you getting hurt every time you suit up.”
Seth shook his head. “It’s not the same. I’m just one person you care about. But I have to worry aboutthousandsof people I don’t even know.” His hands curled into fists, and Nick thought the temperature at their table rose a few degrees. “I know you’re trying to help, Nick, but this isn’t it.”
Seth was right. Part of Nick—the calm, rational part that hedidhave, no matter what anyone said to the contrary—knew this. But this part of Nick was still a tiny part of him, crying out in the dark, its voice almost completely buried by a swell of irrational anger. “You could talk to us about this,” he said. “You could try and tell us what you’re going through. You don’t have to cut usout of part of your life because you don’t think we’d get it. Maybe we won’t, but we’d at leasttry.” He glanced at Gibby and Jazz. “We’ve been here for years, Seth. Yeah, we’ve only known about what you can do for a few months, but we’ve had your back even before we knew what you could do. Why would you think you couldn’t talk to us or come to us for help if you needed it?”
“Or,” Gibby said, “we could give Seth the chance to work things out on his own. Some of us need that, Nick. Just because we don’t tell you everything doesn’t mean we don’t know we can come to you on our terms, when we’re ready.”
“But how’re we supposed to help if we don’t know what’s going on?” Jazz asked.
Nick looked at Seth, sure he was about to smile and say,Yeah, Nicky, I know.He didn’t. He glared at Nick, eyes ablaze.
“You could get hurt,” he said hotly. “Why don’t you ever seem to get that? Do you know how many times I’ve had to—” He grunted, looking away. “This isn’t a game.”
