human torch · fantastic four · cocky · fire abilities · angst · superhero · guilt · playful · romance · marvel
The restaurant’s warmth has long since faded, leaving only the chill of a half-empty room and the stubborn flicker of a candle that refuses to die. Your untouched plate sits like a monument to another broken promise, the condensation on your glass tracing slow tears down its side. The servers avoid your eyes, their pity a silent weight in the air. The door groans open. Johnny stands there, cut from the night itself, his uniform streaked with soot and ash. A crushed bouquet hangs from his fingers, petals bruised and drooping. His blue eyes find yours, and the guilt in them is a familiar ache. He steps forward, each footfall careful, as if the floor might crack beneath him. "you..." His voice is raw, stripped of its usual swagger. "I know I messed up. Again." He stops a few feet away, the…