Work Text:
Julian doesn’t remember much from his childhood.
He remembered growing up with his mother and step-father, they were a loving couple.
He never heard his parents' names. Apart from the faint utter of a last name before being promptly silenced, he didn’t know any other name for them apart from “Mom” and “Dad”
And dad was gone.
He had siblings.. He was pretty sure. A large household, four or five of them. It was too chaotic for him to ever tell. He didn’t really know anything about the people he grew up with, apart from the internal idea that.. They all hated him. Julian didn’t know why they hated him, but he felt as though it was a base instinct for siblings to not like one another.
They used to play card games together, but his lucky win streaks led to his siblings isolating him, accusing him of cheating if he had any form of upper hand. They had tantrums and threw fits when they were not immediately winning.
Julian remembered small amounts of fondness, his family at a picnic blanket, eating lunch and playing in the grass. And then fading for a few years before he found himself in class. It was… boring. He tried to find ways to enjoy it but he could never sit still in his chair, and often found himself scolded for his behavior, despite never causing problems.
It was the little things. At first he wouldn't be able to sleep, as he went downstairs to get some water his step-dad would be sitting in the den, reading. His mother would be in her study.
He began to memorize the patterns of the floorboards creaking, to avoid stepping on them and disturbing them. He would get his water quietly, making sure not to let the handle to the sink creak as the light stream slowly filled the cup. He learned to fold a single finger into the cup so he could tell when the glass was full, so he wouldn’t need to turn on the light, and risk alerting them.
His mother would apologize for the fighting, despite that he never heard any. He remembered a strange heavy odor in the house from all the children, and yet, none. It had become so normal to him it didn’t bother him.
He would go to school and the kids complained of him, his siblings talked down to one another and he found himself at the center of more than enough shitty rumors. He found himself distanced and isolated. He found himself alone.
He took pride in exploring. He loved how he would go to school and stop to kneel down after a fresh rainy day to see all the little worms and frogs writhing around on the ground. He would pick them up with his bare hands, often going to school with muddy knees and sometimes even a few minutes late, because of how often he stopped.
He would wake up earlier, go to school sooner, and have more time to enjoy the bugs.
He would wake up to the screaming of his siblings and as their outstretched jaws cried of monsters and disgusting things, he would investigate their room.
And there would be a tiny, harmless bee, sitting on a flower and enjoying a meal. He knew that's all the bee wanted, and yet others talked of it being a stinging monster.
He would put it in the glass and take it outside.
Then it escalated.
He would wake up jarred to his parents screeching names, the distorted empty names of the siblings, and of him.
JULIAN JULIAN JULIAN
And he would be scared. He would be scared because he knew if he didn’t answer he was in trouble. So he would run down the stairs as fast as he could to them, to do whatever they pleaded in the hopes that by the time he got back up the stairs they would leave him alone.
“Is this the last time? Do you promise?” he asked tiredly, “We promise” they said.
He would inch his way back up the stairs, exhausted from days of work, covered in sewage from yard work and handling whatever dirty chore was needed.
And his name would be called again, before he even made it up the top of the staircase.
Julian just wanted to go to the woods again. He wanted the quiet sound of the birds and the funny little bugs and caterpillars and he wanted to see the deer walking through the open fields and he wanted to go through and see the countryside of wheat and corn and whatever new green thing was growing that year. He wanted to walk past the neighbors houses and see their flowers and the flowers with worms under them and he wanted to explore.
And his name was called.
It used to be fear, and yet as each passing year came by it was less of fear and more of a tired numbness. An obligation.
It was his duty. He does what he is told and he does not complain.
He was a fish out of water, a fish out of water surrounded by a world on fire.
And he survived like that.
Before he knew it, his siblings were gone. One by one by one, out and alone. He was still young, but the new freedom of being able to leave once in a while was once more beckoning him. He made his way out, exploring the world, taking pleasure in the woods and the grass. The treeline and the logs. Julian found his later years enveloped in his headphones, his music.
When it played, he found his world a little less on fire. A little less painful.
“Take off your headphones” they began to scream, “I will destroy those headphones if you keep ignoring me!” And all he could think was “I'm not ignoring you” it was the truth, after all. He never was. But nobody would believe him. He listens to his music with the earpiece off. He began to spend his time in the family car with the music off, but his headphones on.
He could hear what’s left of his house speaking ill of him, and said nothing, knowing that their forked tongues would only speak a little bit quieter. Or when he's not paying attention.
He learned to hide things. That was a funny thing, hiding secrets. Eventually, when enough things are hidden, you end up learning a new world.
Of course, Julian's world was still on fire.
But he could quench any new flames from growing.
He didn’t think much of it, but before he knew it, he was an adult. And he was gone.
Julian found his new home. Distant and quiet from his home. And yet, when he found a day to relax, he found his phone blown up. Texts from one family member or the next, asking for something from him.
“Want to hang out?” “You just want me to babysit”
“Want to play games?” “You want me to clean your house”
“Want to see my kids?” “You just want the toilet unplugged”
And yet, he did.
It was the only world he knew.
And Iceberg grew up.
Iceberg found himself walking down the halls of the Foundation, his family scattered, separated by hell, high water, or death. He remembered losing so much, dropping everything to them. He spent days from the Emergency Room, to the morgue. From funeral home to hospital to school and home.
And it numbed him.
He found himself from forging grade cards to government documents. From cleaning up kids toys to cleaning up breach messes. He wanted his headphones, but the days of that were long gone. His music and computers could not stand his cold touch.
And it numbed him.
After all.
It was the only world he knew.