Chapter Text
Starlo loved his adventures with his friends.
The luxury of forgetting about the woes of living in the underground for a while and getting lost in a world that only he and his friends truly knew was one that he never took for granted. He loved his posse for it, and his posse loved him just as much. Of course, none of it would have been possible without the great and mighty North Star to lead the group. Through thick and thin, through rain and shine (as rare as rain was in the Wild East), North Star would always stand up to face the criminal underbelly of the East. And that’s what people loved about him, right? How he’d always be a paragon of charm and bravery.
Well, apparently not always.
He didn’t know what had gone wrong in this particular adventure, but the only things he felt like a paragon of today was anxiety, heatstroke and overwhelming dread. His retinas were overclocked to the max. The glowing sand of the dunes he usually admired seemed a little too bright for comfort. Every noise around him sounded simultaneously muffled and utterly deafening. His posse was engaged in some dumb hijinks as they always were. Mooch was running circles around Ace, trying to steal the playing card on his hat while Ed was repeatedly challenging Moray to an arm wrestle, who insisted that it should be a fencing tournament instead. North Star would ordinarily play these off as jokes as he always did, but at this moment he wasn’t feeling like North Star in the slightest. He was feeling a hell of a lot like Starlo, and he hated it.
Everybody loved North Star, right? The confident, awesome sheriff who kicked ass and saved the day, and not… whoever Starlo was. Some dopey kid who just happened to like those western movies humans made on the surface a little too much for his own good. The kind of person no-one in the Wild East would like if they got to know him, but especially not his friends.
These two personas were constantly locked in a duel inside his own psyche, trying to fight each other out to win him over. However, it was pretty hard for North Star to win when everything seemed ten times brighter and ten times louder. This had happened to the sheriff before, multiple times even, but never while he was around his posse, acting as this hardened cowboy who could take anything by the horns, and it was terrifying watching as his ability to play sheriff slowly slipped away from him with no way to stop it.
As he was sinking deeper and deeper into this spiral, a squeaky, bubbly voice pulled him out of it.
“Star! I yoinked Ace’s hat card!” Mooch shrieked, waving the card around his face with a mischievous grin still visible despite being obscured by her green scarf.
“You pest, give that back! I paid a fortune for that particular one!” Starlo vaguely heard Ace yell from behind him.
Starlo liked Mooch, he had always found her consistently playful mood and ability to keep the energy going in any situation endearing, but saying that this wasn’t the time would have been the understatement of the century. Of course, he couldn’t just brush her off, even if he really wanted to.
“Oh… yeah, that’s great Mooch, I was gettin’ worried when y- yer hadn’t stolen somethin’ from someone for a while there.” Starlo said half-heartedly, trying his absolute best to put on his usual faux-western accent. Mooch seemed satisfied with that response, and scurried off to go pester someone else. Starlo on the other hand knew that those words weren’t what any hardened sheriff would say to anyone, but that was okay. There wasn’t much point in beating himself up over it now.
He could beat himself up over it later instead.
“Fourth time this week! What do you mean “for a while?” I honestly don’t know if Mooch has ever-” Ace shouted, growing more impatient with the rogue raccoon.
His friends’ shenanigans subconsciously faded out of his mind again. This shouting didn’t do wonders at soothing Starlo’s overstimulated mind, and he heard a subtle pulse starting to emerge. The heatwaves beat down on the town like a hammer, and he felt like he was the only nail. His clothes started to feel heavy on him, every movement he made was cumbersome and laboured.
“Fellas, what are we waitin’ for?” Starlo heard a booming yet friendly voice cut into his train of thought again. Starlo looked up, this time at Ed as he gestured towards one of the roads out of the town. “We ain’t capturin’ Clara McCriminal at this rate!”
Hearing that name made Starlo bitterly smile. God, he was bad at creating these scenarios. The supposedly dastardly bank robber Clara McCriminal was literally just Martlet in a denim jacket and a cowboy hat. Everyone knew Martlet wasn’t capable of hurting a fly, let alone committing any sort of noteworthy crime.
He felt a tear prick in his eye.
‘No, no, no, god damn it, not now, anywhere but here!’ He internally pleaded. It became clear that North Star was losing hard in the persona duel inside his mind. He couldn’t stop it, so if he had to reveal that side of him no-one wanted to see, he would make sure no-one saw it.
Now all he had to do was come up with some excuse that the brave and loyal North Star would actually come up with.
“Y-you know ya’ll, Clara might be hidin’ around in the town! She might’ve gone up ahead though, h-how about ya’ll go have a look around the farm and… you know… see if she ran, uh, flew up there! Make sure she, uh, feels the wrath of justice!”
He felt every word catching on his throat before it just sort of fell out of his mouth and onto the floor. He looked back down to the bright yellow sand immediately, not wanting to bear witness to how any of them probably looked at him. Alas, it seemed to have the intended effect, as he heard Moray command,
“Well, you heard the guy, let’s go!”
Starlo blinked the most laboured blink he’d ever blinked, and they were off. It was a little hard to see them through the heat mirages, but he could vaguely make out their figures walking down the road.
He felt a twinge of guilt as he stumbled through the town alone.
‘I lied to all of them again just so that I could have a smoke break? What am I doing? I thought I learned something after that whole fiasco with Clover…’
He shook his head. He didn’t want Clover on his mind to make everything that much worse.
He staggered his way through the town, holding his hat over his face. No-one in the Wild East would want to see their decidedly un-sorry sheriff in such a sorry state. Still, he refused to let his tears fall yet, even while they were stinging his eyes. Finally, he reached the backside of the nearest house. He couldn’t quite remember who’s it was, but that wasn’t important. It was on the smaller side, made of wood like every other building in town, but it had a small roof overhang that supplied enough shade to shield his face from the scorching heat.
With that, Starlo collapsed onto the sand, leaning against the chipped, dusty wall. He exhaled. At least no-one could see him now. He placed his hat on the ground next to him and those tears that were waiting in his eyes since they first appeared finally started to fall hard. Some landed on his jacket, but most hit the sand. The tears formed small, darkened craters on the desert floor. It would have been the first moisture that sand had seen in a long while. He curled himself into a ball, hoping to take up the least amount of space possible.
Suddenly, he heard footsteps, and Starlo’s mind raced with all the possibilities of what could happen.
Did the posse find out I lied to their faces and now they’ll leave me forever? I couldn’t blame them either.
Maybe they all led Martlet to me, thinking we’d have some big fight and getting let down when they find a sobbing wreck behind some fella’s house?
Did every single person in the Wild East see me wandering through town, holding my hat over my face like an insane person?
Did-
Oh.
It was Ceroba.
Ceroba? SERIOUSLY? If there was one person who Starlo held in an even higher regard than his posse, it would be Ceroba. After she was forced to take Clover’s soul, Starlo kept his word and tried helped Ceroba through her grief. And it was in those conversations that he found out how strong and resilient Ceroba had been throughout all of her hardships. She didn’t just run off to hide behind some dude’s house when the going got tough. She at least made an attempt to right her wrongs. Unlike Starlo.
Why. WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE YOU. OF ALL PEOPLE.
Starlo started hyperventilating. He scrambled to reach for his hat and put it back onto his head, albeit slightly crooked. That horrible ringing had come back, and he still couldn’t pinpoint exactly where it was coming from. He felt an painful pressure building in his gut, and his face flushed with even more heat than the dunes he was facing.
He almost forgot about Ceroba completely until he felt a paw on his shoulder.
“Starlo…” She started, concern written all over her face.
Starlo didn’t respond at all. His throat tightened upon hearing the fox’s voice. It was so calm, so measured, even while he was breaking down in front of her.
“Starlo, it’s alright, I’m here, it’s going to be alright…” She comforted, placing her full focus on the sobbing mess in front of her.
Starlo briefly looked at her, tears fully streaming down his face. Bad decision. He couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eye. He immediately looked back down to the sand between his legs. It was now drenched with tears. His vision was getting blurry, and only part of it was because of the waterworks.
“Starlo, listen to me, okay? I need you to look at me, it doesn’t matter how many tears are streaming down your face.” She continued, slightly tightening her grip on his shoulder.
Words couldn’t have described in that moment how much Starlo didn’t want to look at her. That agonising pressure in his gut built more.
“I- I can’t” he choked out. He found himself unable to say anything else to her before being interrupted by more sobs and sniffles.
Ceroba sighed. She had never really had to comfort anyone since Kanako, whether it be about a scary dream she had, one of her crafts projects that hadn’t quite gone to plan or… when Chujin had died. It brought back more than a few unpleasant memories. But seeing the person who helped her process those memories more than anyone else crying and panicking gave her a renewed sense of determination to help.
“Yes, you can.” She insisted. “I just want you to focus on me for a second, okay?”
Starlo considered it as well as he could while he was in this state. Just a second, right? That couldn’t be too bad. He steeled his nerves and looked up at her. In that second, he saw the face of his best friend since childhood, his friend who he knew wanted absolutely nothing more than for him to be happy, his friend who just went out of her way to help Starlo with zero hesitation.
“See, Star, I’m here. I don’t know what’s wrong yet, but I want to help you. You’ve always done the same for me. Now I just want you to breathe, okay?” Ceroba said, any sternness from her voice completely gone.
Another second wouldn’t be so bad.
Starlo lied down on the sand. It wasn’t especially comfortable, but it was certainly better than being cooped up, feeling the dry, flaky wood rubbing on his back. Breathing felt a little bit easier.
“Things I can feel? Uh, the sand on the ground, the… uh, heat. There’s a lotta heat for sure.”
The overwhelming sensory overload was mostly gone now, and Starlo was very grateful for that. Instead, he felt an overwhelming sense of shame wrack his body. Why was Ceroba helping him? What was she getting out of this?
“Okay, what’s that, three? Uh, the… dried tears on my face. Right, that’s four now.” He stammered.
I’m making a fool of myself…
If there was one thing Starlo hated, it was being vulnerable. It was a lot of the reason why he tried to adopt the North Star persona. But now wasn’t the time to try and put that show back on, especially not for Ceroba.
“You’re doing great, Star.” She assured softly, without a hint of judgement in her voice.
Starlo’s mind blanked as he tried to come up with more. Frustratingly, he had already exhausted all of his ideas.
“I… can’t really think of another one.” He muttered dejectedly.
“That’s okay…” she sighed. She knew Starlo wasn’t exactly big on opening up to anyone, often more focused on keeping his flawless persona. But that ship had sailed long ago, and so she decided to at least give it a shot. “Let’s broaden the scope a little, what about emotions? They don’t have to be purely physical.”
On a whim, he replied with the one word that he hoped to God he would never describe himself as to anyone.
“Scared.”
No. SCARED? Why would you say that? Now she has even more of an excuse to care.
Ceroba was slightly taken aback. She knew as good as anyone else that the whole ‘North Star’ thing was just a charade more than anything, but it was still surprising to hear him admit that he wasn’t the tough sheriff he tried to make himself appear as.
Starlo sat back up immediately out of sheer panic. He felt the tears start to well back up in his eyes. “Wait, I- I didn’t mean to say that, it’s not a big issue, not for me anyway, you don’t gotta worry abo-“
He was interrupted as Ceroba swept him up into a hug. He was instantly overtaken by a new warmth. Not the horrible, relentless, arid heat of the desert, but the comforting warmth of an embrace from a trusted friend.
The torrent of tears were back in full action as Starlo buried his face in Ceroba’s shoulder, his tears getting soaked up by her kimono. Ceroba could feel the wet patch forming near her shoulder. She didn’t mind. It would dry soon.
Ceroba was rubbing slow, delicate circles on his back, holding him close to her. She felt a primal, protective urge jolt though her. What was bothering him? He didn’t deserve this. A whirlwind of thoughts were spinning in her brain, but she chose to suppress them while she had Starlo in her arms.
“Let it all out Star… you need this more than anything.”
Ceroba always knew Starlo as Starlo, not as North Star. Even as a teenager, she knew that when he came running home from Waterfall, desperately clutching onto a pile of VHS tapes, huge, beaming smile on his face, she knew that he was the most endearing dork she’d ever met. Later, he had got his hands on a lasso, and Ceroba was the first one he had showed it to. Ceroba could recall he was surprisingly good at using it, but it didn’t change the fact that he was just a kid with a special interest. However, Starlo’s enthusiasm for everything he did really rubbed off on her.
Of course, this was all well and good until it got to his head a little too much in the whole Clover debacle. When she told North Star that she wanted to see that “innocent farm boy” side of him again.
Starlo was still holding onto her tight, but his sobbing had slowed down a bit, now just being the occasional sniffle.
He wanted nothing more than to stay like that.
Another few minutes passed by before Starlo finally let go.
“Th- Thanks, ‘Roba.” He spluttered out.
“Don’t mention it.”
They sat in silence for a few seconds, before Ceroba piped up.
“You should take that hat off.”
“What?”
“I saw you frantically put it on when I walked around that corner. You don’t have to keep that façade up for me.”
“Oh, yeah, I… I did do that.” Starlo muttered. He grabbed his hat and sheepishly placed it back on the ground.
Ceroba could sense that there was something he still wasn’t telling her.
“You know, Star, you don’t talk about feelings stuff too often, but I’ve never heard you admit you’re scared before…” Ceroba’s voice was once again laced with concern, but also a sense of directness that Starlo picked up on.
“You- you don’t have’ta worry about me, ‘Roba. I’m tough.”
Ceroba looked at him incredulously. “Star, you just broke down in tears in front of me. That’s completely fine, but if there’s one thing that you certainly aren’t right now, it’s tough.”
“W- well… maybe not now, but I- I’m meant to be tough, the Wild East needs a good sheriff who can face anything.”
Ceroba internally cringed. She’d seen this pattern in his mentality before, and she wasn’t about to go through all the stages of it again. He’d get self-conscious about his role as the hero of the Wild East, and everyone else would have to convince him that he was actually a great “sheriff”. It never worked.
“Star.” Ceroba grabbed Starlo by the chin firmly and lifted his head up to match hers.
“Do you remember when Clover stumbled into town and you got a bit too wrapped up in the excitement of meeting a human who was all into your cowboy roleplay?”
“Yeah, h- how could I forget…” Starlo shuddered. “I- it ain’t exactly a high moment for me.”
“I told you I wanted to see the good old Starlo I knew and loved. I-“
“NOBODY LIKES THAT STARLO!” Starlo exploded, something snapping like a twig inside his mind. “Who keeps the town running? Who- who has some semblance of a reputation to keep? Who has all these friends and… people who care about him enough to go along with this whole Wild East thing? North Star! Starlo’s done nothing but cry and whine about negligible issues that shouldn’t mean a thing! Y- you had to go out of your way to coddle my feelings just now because I had to have a temper tantrum over spilt milk like always! And so whether you like it or not, I have to be an entirely different person to who I really am because… I…”
Starlo trailed off, wide-eyed, out of breath, entirely exhausted of energy.
“Because you… don’t have another choice?” Ceroba finished his sentence for him.
Starlo held his head in shame, completely defeated.
They shared a brief moment of silence together. Both of them wanted to say something, but Ceroba took the opportunity first.
“You do have a choice.”
“Wha- what are you talking about? How could you look at this…” Starlo pointed at his still damp, puffy face, “…and h- have the gall to tell me that I have options? Y- you probably only wanted Starlo back that first time b- because North Star was bein’ the insufferable prick… for once.”
‘For once?’ Ceroba contemplated what he had just said. ‘I tried telling him the facts as they were back when Clover was in town, but obviously it hasn’t left much of a lasting impact on him.’
That’s when an idea appeared in her head. She knew Starlo better than anyone else in town, so if the direct route hadn’t worked, she’d try a more personal one. A wry smile crept onto Ceroba’s face.
“Do… do you remember that time you called me at two in the morning after finding out that horses do actually exist on the surface, and they weren’t just made up for those tapes?”
“Yeah… I’m sure it was damn annoying for you.” Starlo weakly retaliated.
“What? No, I had to smother my laughter with a pillow as to not wake up my parents. That wouldn’t have happened if Starlo wasn’t the way he is… I mean that in the best way possible.”
She waited a second for effect before she continued.
“Oh, what about that time when we both went out into New Home as teenagers? We were window shopping and you found your hat in one of the stores. You were so giddy with excitement when you found you just had enough to buy it.” She chuckled to herself upon recounting the story.
“Yeah, it was 35G, I remember that it seemed like a lot back then…” Starlo added.
“You remember how much it was? You nerd…” Ceroba bantered back.
“Heyyyy…” Starlo whined pseudo-dramatically. “I- I still think the hat looks cool.” Ceroba saw the faintest grin appear on his lips before it promptly vanished again. “Still… those were just funny one-off’s at best, what have I ever done to truly… deserve anyone’s respect?”
Ceroba paused for a moment to get her words in the right order. If there was a moment in this conversation that she didn’t want to mess up, it was here.
“Well… I can’t speak for anyone else. But for me personally? You… you helped me through my lowest point in life. When I lost everything I held dear to me. You stayed up late countless nights to talk to me when I needed someone to talk to, listened intently to everything I had to say or just… kept me company when I didn’t want to be alone again. Those are certainly efforts to be respected.”
And then, adding a slight sarcastic edge to her voice, she added “I sure as hell know it wasn’t North Star who did any of that.”
Starlo felt something inside him melting like a chocolate bar, and it wasn’t because of the heat.
“I’m glad I could help you through… that. It can't have been easy for you.”
“It wasn't, which is why I was so happy that you were a paragon of bravery for me when I needed one more than ever. You have no idea how grateful I am to be your friend, Starlo.”
That did it. As much as he wanted to continue writhing in his own self-hatred, he couldn’t keep pretending that she was wrong for loving him. She befriended Starlo for a reason, and that reason certainly wasn’t that he could play dress-up as a tough-as-nails sheriff.
“Th- thanks Roba, I- I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything, it’s okay.”
The two sat there vacantly for a moment longer, letting the emotions linger in the air.
“…Do you, uh, mind sittin’ here with me for a bit longer?”
“Of course I will, Star. Anything you need.”
It turned out that Ceroba’s definition of “a bit longer” was incredibly lax. At one point or another, she had lost count of how many hours she had sat there with Starlo, reminiscing on memories from their childhood. Things like Starlo tripping over an ingrown cactus and spraining his ankle, Ceroba getting lost in the vast lengths of corn fields during a game of hide-and-seek gone awry, and of course, the infamous marshmallow explosion incident of 200X.
“What did you think was going to happen? You put the whole packet into the microwave!” Ceroba chided Starlo playfully.
“…I thought it would make marshmallow soup.” Starlo replied, staring at the floor with a sense of half-genuine embarrassment. Ceroba stifled a chuckle before seeing the iota of sincere shame his eyes. The sheriff was far easier to read than he thought he was. Her face softened almost instantly.
“Actually, marshmallow soup does sound pretty appealing. I don’t blame little Star for trying....”
“Maybe I could try again, put a whole packet in the oven next time…” Starlo replied, a mischievous grin slowly returning to his face.
“Yeah… if you want to spend the rest of your life cleaning your oven.” A cozy warm smile spread across the fox’s face upon seeing Starlo’s.
For the first time that day, Starlo felt at least a little stable. No dizzying heatstroke, no ringing in his ears, no constant inclination to mask back up as North Star.
The duel in his head between his personas would still persist, but he wasn’t about to let it get as bloodthirsty as it had gotten before. And if all else failed, if he ever neared a breaking point that closely again, if everything seemed to be going wrong and he needed to find comfort in somebody…
…he knew that Ceroba would always be there to provide it.