"Do you want to go?" he asks his girlfriend.

She looks up into his hazel eyes, the ones that are staring at her with such love and passion, she finds herself speechless for a moment.

She know that her answer will determine his answer. Whether or not to go to the bonfire on the beach this weekend with her graduating class from high school. She searched his eyes, knowing fully well that he wanted to go so badly.

She couldn’t blame him; this was the class of four years where ups and downs happened: when people got together and broke up, when people became friends and backstabbed others, and most recently, when people got accepted or rejected from college.

If she were to blame anyone, it would be herself. She would blame herself for not being brave enough to face fires. She couldn’t, not after the accident. The heat of the flames so close to her, licking her, caressing her; she shook the memory from her mind.

She couldn't handle fires after that; the memory would always haunt her. She couldn't cook, due to the open flames of the stove; she couldn't watch sunsets or sunrises, because the sky looked like it was on fire; sometimes, she couldn't even sleep, throwing the covers off her in mid-winter because they just felt too hot against her skin.

She definitely couldn't go to an open bonfire.

She's got burns to prove it too; burns along her arms, across her back, down her legs. They had made her self-conscious, dropping her self-esteem. She got stares, and sometimes teasing. She had always been so grateful of him, the boyfriend that stood in front of her today. The one that loved her invariably, even through her burns; the one that knows about her past, her pain, and still accepts her for it; the one who would do anything just to see her smile, however marked it may be. He had kissed all of her burns, just to prove himself to her.

She gazes up to her boyfriend, who was standing there, innocently pondering. She knew what would happen if she rejected the invitation, like she had to so many others: he would nod in understanding, and they would head to her house for movies and popcorn, without a fire in the fireplace, of course. They would cuddle up under blankets to fight the cold, and she would look up at him and ask if she was destroying his high school experience, and he would kiss her and tell her of course not, not when she was next to him. But she would always see the disappointment, the sadness in his eyes, even if his smile did not show it.

She knew what would happen if she said no. But she never knew what would happen if she said yes. Her guilt against her loving boyfriend was too much to bear; she couldn’t stand it anymore. She loved him too much.

"Do you want to go?" he asked again, prompting her response.

She looked up into his eyes once more, and sees the only fire that she's been able to be around since the accident: the one in his eyes.

Perhaps this time, near the fire, she would find comfort instead of fear. Maybe this time, she could face the fire, and take it for its warmth instead of its destruction. And she knew that fire could offer this, because of the fire she found in her boyfriend's hazel eyes and the fiery passion she found within her heart.

"Yes," she whispers, barely audible. "Yes, I say we go."