Work Text:
At early ages, the desire to explore space was exceedingly common. Children would say their dream was to be an astronaut.
Ken was one of those children. But he hadn't wanted to simply explore the stars because they were beautiful or unmapped. He wanted to go because from the very beginning, even if he couldn't put words to the feeling, he knew that in some inherent way he was different. He was alien.
And it was easy to pretend he was truly from outer space. It’d explain why he didn’t belong. Why his parents acted like they weren’t really his.
As he moved through the school years, the difference between him and others seemed to become more obvious. Connecting with peers was a struggle. They seemed to operate from a different guidebook that he had never been given.
He was different. They knew that. And simply being different was so much of a sin that he had to suffer for it. They had to remind him that he was not one of them, even if they didn’t understand why either. The cruelty was confusing, but what logic was there to punishment over him simply existing?
No matter the attempts at fitting in, at standing out, at being himself, he always fell short. But just because he couldn't find solace in others didn't mean he had ever stopped wanting it.
What was it to be human than to seek companionship? To make bids for connection, for affection? To reach out a desperate hand and grab at whatever binding tie to those around him he could find?
And what was he supposed to do when he couldn't find it in humanity? When even at the end of the day, sitting in the back of his parents car, returning home, he never received what he was seeking?
It was easiest to turn inwards, to close up in himself and spend his time thinking, dreaming.
He had never stopped dreaming of space.
He had never stopped dreaming of someone caring for him.
He had tried for so long to send out signals for someone else to receive. For someone to answer.
On days where no one would notice him slipping away, he’d find himself on the edge of the school roof, eyes trained on the sky. If the people around him wouldn’t give him the time of day, someone else out there would. Someone had to.
He had to keep hoping. He had to keep trying. Despite everything in him that dragged him down, that caged him, something still cried out desperately. Something clawed at the bars of his cage, something reached out in an attempt to get others to see him.
He had to keep shoving his nose farther into the pages of his magazines, of his encyclopedias, of printed out packets of internet forum pages and hope that even if there was no one on earth who would care for him, something out there would.
How was it that when he finally found what he was searching for, it hadn’t been in aliens?
It had been her.
It was someone who had taken a chance. Someone who had followed the map. He had called out to the universe, and someone had stopped by.
He’d been free floating for so long, hoping for a reply, resigning himself to never finding it. But she had answered. She had saved him.