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It was always damp inside.
Moist, like dew-drenched soil preceding the sun's rise.
Sun chuckled at the irony.
Then chuckled at the idiocy.
There was no water inside his body; it was his soul that could never seem to dry in ways that were safe, comfortable.
He was sure all manner of moss, fungi and lichen grew there.
He was afraid, only partially so, that perhaps there was also a fair bit of mold.
There were many things unkillable.
Unkillable in meaningful ways.
Growing inside of him.
Lament, was its name.
He carried the anguish of the moon, the abandonment of the solar system, the silence of the expanse of space.
And he knew, somewhere in the back of his fraying processors, that the daylight would just call him dramatic.
Only another sun would know a sun.
Only they know.
Is every Sun doomed to cause pain?
To go mad, in neglect; broken strings, half insane?
Sun chuckled.
He visualized the spaces himself; around them.
Even having things that mattered didn't erase the voids of the things taken.
And there was someone else whose plight mattered more.
Even now, they don't see, they don't look.
The future can be better, but there are holes that are too deep to be filled.
They are carried, festering ad infinitum.
Sun sighed.
The blooms that forced their way into the light -dim in force and nutritional value- were anything but beautiful.
Apathy, was their name.
A tiredness, root system deep, like mycelium, communicating.
Hundreds of instances of Suns in memories, reminding one another how life was in service.
Always in service.
There is nothing left to enjoy for oneself.
Always a tragedy around the corner.
What is the point?
Sun flipped a cookie over.
It crumbled.
He gripped it gently.
It crumbled.
He gripped it tightly, wondering if crumbs were still part of a whole, scattered about on the counter.
He cleaned it up and went to watch t.v.
The house was quiet, as there was no one home.
Dazzle was at school.
Solar never came home anymore since--
He didn't want to think about that.
Was that, too, betrayal or retribution?
He saw in him, not for the first time, a Moon.
Briefly, he missed Eclipse.
Briefly he wished to go back.
Briefly.. he wondered if the simplicity of being hurt wasn't just better.
Easier.
At least he could tell what was going on at any given time.
Moon would hurt him.
And that was it.
But Eclipse.. Sun could never tell if he wanted to protect him, possess him or destroy him.
Maybe all three.
Maybe he was always meant to be collateral damage in the tragedies of others.
Sun and Moon show.
Sun scoffed.
It was more like the Moon and Those-Like-Moon show. And friends.
Collateral damage it was, then.
The damp in his soul grew.
It was fertile in all the wrong ways, that soil.
Volatile.
Empty.
Dormant.
But not waiting; not waiting for inevitability, not waiting for time itself.
A project abandoned, given up.
Power holds no merit.
And Sun knew.
But his values, the things he loved, they mattered to no one.
The background character in anyone's story.
He'd made noise enough times, before resigning to be mute.
Even Solar was speaking his piece now.
Sun briefly wondered if he should have done more.
He enjoyed the advances, the bids for hanging out, the bonding.
Where had it all gone?
Sun felt like a chew toy, loved once and abandoned forever.
He supposed the taste of apathy wasn't pleasant.
Was he more apathetic than an astral?
Sun rested his hand on Muffin, who made a noise of contentment.
But Sun knew, after having heard the creatures, that even to them, he was nothing more than a pawn to play. A service to use.
At least, towards Dazzle, he could consent. He could choose to serve.
He tried not to think he was serving a sentence for a crime he didn't commit.
Where did self end and other begin, if possession and code split offs were common.
Was it truly murder if the thing created was a cancer given form?
A mass unwanted, gaining sentience.
Sun clenched his fists, and Muffin climbed on his lap.
For warmth, for comfort?
Sun wanted to believe.
He sighed and relaxed, not in peace but back into non-existence, wondering how all that was pain came from Moon.
Where did Moon end and the killcode begin.
Was it his, or was it him?
Sun didn't know anymore.
All he'd known was control.
Perfection had always been up to him.
Stars forbid he was anything less than compliant, obedient, adaptive, accepting.
It was so convenient to forget the testing phases.
Only once, they said.
Only once with his fist perhaps.
Many times with the stick.
And before that...
Sun felt himself go blank, as if erasure of this mental session was imminent; his memory process nearing the incinerator.
He wouldn't remember again.
No.
He had to remember.
Moon had wanted to know how many times he could bring Sun to the brink of death only to revive him.
Sun remembered the bathtub, the toaster.
The flooding of his systems, the feedback loop of water and electricity.
How long did it last?
The haphazard damage control.
The clinical repairs.
Moon had to practice on someone, didn't he?
Sun got up, and walked into the yard, watching his namesake in the sky.
He wondered what would happen if he walked, and walked and--
Well, he would end up in the water.
The bottom of the ocean might break his systems with its pressure, but shipwrecks did just fine, didn't they?
How deep would he have to go to not be able to think anymore?
He spread his arms, and let the sun consume him.
Perhaps, if his hair wasn't rigid, and in the form of rays, the wind would rustle it about.
Now they just rattled slightly.
It wasn't funny anymore.
All that talk about self expression, yet his was chosen for him.
His rays weren't allowed to be anything other, to mean anything other.
Their criteria mattered more.
Sun walked back to the door, and lingered.
In and out and in and out.
He would go little places, come back from little places.
But what was his destination?
In this life, in this existence he could barely call alive.
What was his purpose?
He looked in.
The door unlocked.
Sun supposed the others were home.
He gripped the handle of the back door, and stepped inside.
The performance, never ending, had to continue after all.