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trans_92011-05-12 02:54 am
callmethekid.livejournal.com) wrote in trans_92011-05-12 02:54 am
Late Night Train to Maudlin City, Now Boarding [open]
The feeling that he wouldn't be out of Medbay for long was a hard feeling to squash, but he wanted to stay away as long as he could. He hated doctors. That was what he was getting closer to, though, his breakout from Cadmus and the half-remembered times right before it when he'd been poked and prodded and dressed up in a Superman uniform. He felt his life dissolving away like sand through his fingertips. For a while, he tried to ignore it, striking out on his own and trying to have fun. He had a good fly through the city, surfed in the Sensoriums, made the flirty eyes at any girl he happened to pass by in the hallways. He was the Kid. He was young and carefree, right? Not a worry in the world.
It was during one of those lulls where a good portion of the ship's crew was asleep that he left his room. Good ship Stacy's version of Letterman time. (Scratch that: more like Conan-time). He was wearing the sweatpants Rory gave him and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and not much else.
Taking a seat floating in the air there, he looked outside. The view outside the viewing window really was beautiful. It was dazzling. Distracting.
"Way to go, Superboy! Staring pensively out the viewing window. You're not being a walking cliche at all."
Only angsty people stared pensively out the viewing window. Seriously. He was too cool for pensive viewing window staring. Cliche or not, though, he needed it. Sometimes you needed that perspective. That's what he figured. He needed to see...exactly how small he was compared to the rest of the universe. A universe that'd go on without him, if he shrank away into nothing--
Yeah, okay, maybe this wasn't actually helping him feel some cosmic one-ness that took away his growing fear.
"Now entering Maudlin City. Population: You."
Talking to himself like he was the main character in a comic book or a TV show or something like that was a habit that'd taken him years to break himself out of and thus a habit he'd reverted back to, but hey, who didn't like to pretend sometimes that their life had the kind of stories people would want to read about?
The question was: with this, with something he couldn't fight with his fists, would he still have a story for much longer?
It was during one of those lulls where a good portion of the ship's crew was asleep that he left his room. Good ship Stacy's version of Letterman time. (Scratch that: more like Conan-time). He was wearing the sweatpants Rory gave him and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and not much else.
Taking a seat floating in the air there, he looked outside. The view outside the viewing window really was beautiful. It was dazzling. Distracting.
"Way to go, Superboy! Staring pensively out the viewing window. You're not being a walking cliche at all."
Only angsty people stared pensively out the viewing window. Seriously. He was too cool for pensive viewing window staring. Cliche or not, though, he needed it. Sometimes you needed that perspective. That's what he figured. He needed to see...exactly how small he was compared to the rest of the universe. A universe that'd go on without him, if he shrank away into nothing--
Yeah, okay, maybe this wasn't actually helping him feel some cosmic one-ness that took away his growing fear.
"Now entering Maudlin City. Population: You."
Talking to himself like he was the main character in a comic book or a TV show or something like that was a habit that'd taken him years to break himself out of and thus a habit he'd reverted back to, but hey, who didn't like to pretend sometimes that their life had the kind of stories people would want to read about?
The question was: with this, with something he couldn't fight with his fists, would he still have a story for much longer?
no subject
At Conner's open declaration, he knelt a little, bending over just enough to place a glove on Conner's shoulder. "Yeah, we're your friends," he agreed, quietly, watching the little boy who used to be his best friend. "We'll do everything we can for you, I promise." He squeezed the shoulder just a small amount. "So should we start by getting you something to eat?" he asked, rough voice easing a little closer to his normal again.
no subject
He started running ahead. Why walk anywhere when you could run?
"C'mon!"