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There was a point in time at which those around him assured that one day Shatterstar would fit in, as if there was a metaphorical slot in which he would fit perfectly among the others.
Shatterstar does not like to be cornered, to be boxed in.
There was some comfort to be sought in the idea that a place among the people of Earth could not be assigned to someone who was not meant to be there.
Those assurances were abandoned, likely because they were found to be untrue.
Shatterstar has spent more time on Earth than on Mojoworld and is still a stranger to humanity. That is a fact of his being that many find uncomfortable.
He is not well liked, but at least it is identifiable. Before, Shatterstar had to be told as such. It is easy to read actions, to read situations. It is significantly harder to read faces, or emotions, or the ways in which words are used.
Shatterstar does not try to be likable, does not want to be likable. New connections mean new tells and quirks and tics to learn so as to adequately understand the newcomer. Conversations without that kind of preparation are not easy, nor do they carry out smoothly.
Since coming to Earth, there has been nothing but endless strangers attempting to change him.
Not all of it has been entirely unpleasant, even if it was unwelcome. Julio has always been very patient in trying to help him assimilate. Many have told Shatterstar that he is not easy to be around. It is likely a true statement.
It was a strange realization that almost all interactions between people on Earth are unscripted. It is still a challenge to reconcile that knowledge against the way Shatterstar sees people converse.
One conversation partner can often reliably tell if the other is lying, or if the other is talking out of obligation, or if the interaction is genuine.
It is as if they can see something that Shatterstar cannot. He watches lips, watches face, watches body, trying to find the answers others seem to find so easily. It is frustrating work. Most times, he just asks Julio.
Julio has always been something of a template.
Shatterstar is not empty, but when compared to what is typical of Earth, it seems as such.
Empty words, so he practices the ways in which Julio arcs his sentences up and down.
Practices curving up the ends of questions, practices the tilted sound of sarcasm. It is not easy nor is it enjoyable, but it is manageable.
Empty face, but it is not comfortable to practice externalizing emotions.
Unless the expression happens naturally, it is like wearing a mask.
Julio is the only one who simply listens to Shatterstar.
Others look at him and see what they believe is the right way to be, leading to questions that are not easy to answer when reality does not align with belief.
Shouldn’t you be better at this by now? What’s the point of acting like this?
The questions are uncomfortable, words bristling against skin in strange ways. However, they are preferable to what Shatterstar does not understand.
This gimmick was cute for a while, but we’re not kids anymore.
Almost everyone seems to have mirrored the situation. Majority belief is that Shatterstar is an act and what he presents is default, but that is not true.
He would like to stop acting, to drop pretense, but that would make Julio’s life difficult.
Julio is social, at least compared to himself. That means Shatterstar is social by extension. He does not want to do something to jeopardize Julio’s friendships.
Julio knows he has limits, but it is unclear if he knows that Shatterstar is acting.
Shatterstar is used to being watched, but it has never hurt in the way it does on Earth. He draws attention to himself without intent, can count the eyes on him in a matter of seconds. Being stared at is rarely indicative as a threat, but his body does not relax easily.
He knows he does not align with what is typical, and that deviation stands out, is a target.
This world has been nothing but frustrating and confusing and painful, only enjoyable part being Julio. They are similar in ways Shatterstar is still discovering.
They spoke, once, after reuniting. There are levels of conversation, it would seem, levels reserved for strangers, for teammates, for Julio. They had not spoken so closely since they were far younger, now conversing as if they were strangers again. Shatterstar had wanted something more, did not know how to ask.
“My powers are gone, y’know. ”
Shatterstar remembers the moment well. The blinds were drawn and the bed did not have any sheets on it, only blankets, and Julio had been staring down at his hands in the way he does when he does not want to look at anyone.
Shatterstar did not know how to answer then. Cortex was a setback, one which Shatterstar is still attempting to overcome. There was not much time to practice answers when he was not being.
“It hurts. All the fucking time. I can barely stand it.”
Shatterstar has played through this conversation more times than he would like to count.
“It’s so empty, Star, all the time.”
If things were easier, it would’ve been at this point that Shatterstar understood. But he did not. He did not think that there would ever be a time at which he could not understand Julio, but that was proven wrong.
It still hurts to know that he was wrong. Before, he knew how Julio moved, how he spoke, how he smelled. Maybe they were strangers at first; all the identifiers had changed since they were younger.
For some time, it was not easy to recognize Julio. Shatterstar does not often remember faces, but the movements were different, are still different. He moves with uncertainty, moves with body folded in.
‘I think I finally get why you used to bite yourself. I’m going fucking crazy like this.”
If things were easier, it would’ve been at this point that Shatterstar spoke. But he did not. It was not a situation he had ever tried to account for. None of his lines would have worked for the situation.
There has been plenty of time since to make up for not knowing what to say or how to say it, but an eternity would not be enough to suffice.
Understanding comes later, in a quiet moment playing over the discussion. There have not been many others like it since. They are close in the physical sense, but have not reached that point again in speech.
He walks to Julio’s room. It has never been his, but he belongs with Julio so ownership is implied. Shatterstar stops at the door, considering that this may be unwanted. He is not good at identifying when conversation is unwanted; maybe Julio has been attempting to push him away.
That does not matter, has never mattered.
Julio is underneath blankets on the bed, and the bed has sheets, and the blinds are open. Shatterstar cannot tell if he is looking at his hands because he does not want to look at anyone else, but enough is different to know that this is not the same situation that has been played out on loop.
Shatterstar hopes it is okay that he has only just decided how to respond.
“I did not learn how to understand people.”
“Do we have to do this now, Star?” Julio’s words are drawn out, but he has not told Shatterstar to leave.
“I did not learn how to understand people,” he repeats, “I have been pretending. It is not easy, nor do I enjoy it, but it sets people at ease. So I am obligated.”
“Star,” Julio sits up, his back is against the wall and he has the same blankets hanging off his shoulders that were on the bed when they first spoke, “I really, really, can’t deal with this right now. It’s not you, I just can’t .”
“ No ,” he growls, it is more forceful than intended, “You are not understanding . I will explain.”
Julio pushes his hair back out of his eyes, hands rubbing down his face afterwards, “Okay, go for it.”
Shatterstar paces, it is unclear how others operate with such stillness. There is no room to think when trying to refrain from moving.
“You do not have to learn,” Shatterstar drums his fingers against his shoulder as he walks, “You can just pretend.”
Julio looks at him for the first time this day, “Pretend what?”
He hums, working thoughts into words, “Pretend it does not hurt, pretend it is not hard, pretend that you are what people expect.”
Julio laughs, but it does not sound sincere, “People don’t expect much of me these days.”
“It is not better to have things expected of you,” Shatterstar says, “It has only created conflict for me. People do not believe I am authentic.”
“It’s not that easy, Star,” Julio sighs.
Shatterstar would like to sit on the bed, to be close to him, to try to press understanding and love and care into Julio’s skin, but it is more comfortable to remain in motion.
“You said, before, that you finally get why I used to bite myself. That must mean we are feeling the same.”
Julio is the one who does not answer this time. It is a strange place to be.
“It has not changed for me, but I cannot change that. I can only adapt.”
Julio sighs again, hand pushing hair back again, “That’s not the same.”
Shatterstar hums, “Not enough, yes?”
“So much of me is gone, Star. Everything’s muted and faraway. Everything I do, everything I touch, feels wrong.”
“Yes. I understand. ”
Julio is not listening, but Shatterstar will be patient.
“There is too much space and you are wanting to fill it but nothing is enough. So you would like to hurt in a way that is louder than the emptiness, correct?”
“I, uh,” Julio presses his palms to his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall, “Wow, fuck.”
Shatterstar makes a sound of agreement, “I am restless often, but you do not want to move.”
“It hurts so much, Star, it’s like these aren’t even my hands anymore. They don’t shake anymore. It’s all wrong. I mean, sometimes you were way too much for me to handle, but that never felt like this.”
Shatterstar walks to the side of the bed, pausing next to Julio as he sways from side to side, “I do not want us to be strangers.”
“Fuck, dude, I barely know myself anymore.”
Julio reaches out, taking his hand. Shatterstar squeezes tight in return, not stilling entirely.
“What did you do when you stopped biting yourself?”
Shatterstar frowns, “I have not stopped.”
“Let’s make a deal,” Julio says, “I’ll stop sleeping all day if you stop hurting yourself.”
Shatterstar does not have to think before answering, “Agreed.”
He pulls on Julio’s arm gently, trying to get him to come closer. They still know each other somewhat, even if things are different now. Julio moves to face him, kneeling on the bed. He wraps his arms around Julio’s stomach, pulling him in tight. He is far shorter than Shatterstar, but now they are the same height, eyes meeting strangely.
“Does this help?”
Julio rests his head against Shatterstar’s shoulder. He is the only one allowed to get this close. He is the only one allowed near the softest parts of Shatterstar.
Before, Julio did not like to be held so tightly, did not understand why Shatterstar sought it out.
He looks different, moves different, smells different, but he is still Julio.
“Yeah,” he speaks against Shatterstar’s neck, “Yeah, it does.”
Shatterstar is not good at interpersonal connections. Julio is an exception but even then it is not easy.
He does not have familiar experience to draw upon for most situations and often cannot understand what another feels about a given situation. Most times it is a challenge for Shatterstar to understand how he feels about an event, much less how he could feel about an event another is experiencing.
He is trying, but he is not telepathic.
It is clear that Julio is hurting, but he is secretive. Outside of the few visual indicators, Shatterstar only knows the extent if Julio explains it. It is likely he is not explaining everything.
“I do not understand what you are feeling, I will not understand unless you tell me.”
“I don’t know why you’re here,” Julio grabs at the back of his shirt.
“I am here because I would like to talk.”
“No, fuck, I don’t know why you’re with me. Why aren’t you off experimenting or exploring or whatever the fuck it was?”
Shatterstar hums, fingers tapping against Julio’s back, “It is something I would like in theory, I think. But it is not easy to be around people who are not you. There is no one else who knows how to touch me.”
“Anyone can learn how to do that,” Julio’s voice cracks while speaking, that rarely means anything good.
“Maybe,” Shatterstar says, “But it has taken me a decade to understand you and I do not wish to begin that process again.”
“Fuck, Star, you only like me because we’ve known each other for ages.”
“That does not feel like a true statement.”
“You’re stuck with me because you’ve never had anyone better,” Julio’s voice is sharp, unfamiliar sound to it.
“That also does not feel like a true statement,” Shatterstar frowns, “Are you angry with me? It sounds as if you are.”
Julio pulls back, Shatterstar does not try to keep him close, “Maybe, yeah.”
Shatterstar hums as he thinks, “Are you angry with yourself?”
Julio does not answer, so Shatterstar explains, “It does not seem as if it is a reasonable reaction, but I do not think emotions always make sense. But you are speaking like you are angry and I do not think you would have let me hold you if it was entirely directed towards me.”
Julio smiles slightly, a strange reaction for a strange situation, “You’re still fuckin’ weird, Star.”
“Yes,” Shatterstar nods, “I am beginning to think that it is terminal.”
“And you’ve got the same sense of humor, too.”
“You have not answered,” Shatterstar watches him carefully, “Are you angry with yourself?”
Julio sighs, “I don’t know.”
“I think you may be, but I am not good at this,” Shatterstar reaches for Julio’s hair, his own is not long enough to play with anymore.
“It’s complicated, Star. It’s a bunch of shit mixed together.”
Shatterstar relaxes when Julio leans against his hand. It is a small indicator that this has not become an argument. He does not like attempting to deal with multiple emotions at once, but it seems to be a requirement for being.
“Pick one.”
Julio furrows his brows, “What?”
“Pick one feeling only.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” Julio is looking at him strangely, “And I’m not feeling anything good right now.”
“It does not have to be a good feeling.”
“Okay,” Julio huffs, “I fucking hate myself. Are you happy now?”
Shatterstar tries to sound soft, to sound gentle, “Why?”
“I’m just a run of the mill depressed fucking flatscan,” Julio laughs, head thrown back, “And it hurts so much and I hate them for all just walking around thinking that this is all there is. I hate feeling like I’m asleep when I’m awake and I hate sleeping because then I dream about everything being normal and I hate being useless and I hate that people want me to enjoy being normal. ”
Shatterstar nods, “You do not shake anymore.”
“No, I don’t. It was annoying but I was used to it and now I don’t know how to do anything anymore ‘cos I spent more years shaking than I ever did with steady hands.”
“I do not know how that feels.”
“Didn’t expect you would.”
“I want to help, but I am unsure as to how.”
“ Why?”
Shatterstar frowns, worrying at his lip. He is not used to being asked to explain his thoughts. It is not easy to assign words to his reasonings.
He settles for what is easy, “I do not want you to hurt, even if it is an internal hurt.”
Julio is looking at his hands again, but Shatterstar does not mind that he is not looking at him, it is uncomfortable to be stared at.
“Why do you care?”
Shatterstar hums carefully, “Because I love you.”
Julio’s body catches, shaking in a way which is somewhat familiar. He tips forward, pulling back as he inhales, hands covering his face.
“Why are you crying?” Shatterstar almost reaches out, but is not certain if that is okay.
“I don’t know, I don’t know.”
“It is not easy to identify love, but I think it is something like trust.”
Julio is not listening because he is crying. That is okay, Shatterstar will explain another time. He climbs over the end of the bed, settling next to Julio. Julio folds against him, grasping at his back.
Shatterstar wraps his arms around Julio, trying to pull him into wholeness. It would be better with the warmth of skin against skin, but Julio does not want anyone to touch him save for specific moments. Shatterstar has seen how many layers he wears now, but has not found a way to ask about them.
He feels each of Julio’s sobs pressing back against his arms as Julio’s ribcage shifts. It is not comfortable to be around those who are crying, but Julio is an exception. He runs his hands along Julio’s back, copying what he has seen.
“I am supposed to say that it will be okay,” Shatterstar whispers into his hair, “But I am not sure if it will be.”
Julio’s hands move up to his shoulders, pulling at them with something that feels like desperation.
“I do not know if it will ever be okay.”
Julio’s breathing is scattered, switching between clawing and quiet. Shatterstar rarely feels fear save for situations like these.
“I love you,” he says again, it is easier to act than to speak but it feels necessary, “I love you even if it will not be okay.”