doubled_speed | For Wearingthestars

I wish I wasn't alone.

The words were whispered from inside the relative safety of the tiny closet in Tommy Shepherd's bedroom in Springfield, New Jersey. Whispered because there was no way that he wanted Frank or Mary, fighting in the living room, shouting and screaming, to hear them.

I wish I wasn't alone.

Repeated as Tommy held his hands out before him in the darkness palms up. He put as much conviction behind them as he put into anything he said starting with those two words. He had found rather quickly that whatever this power of his was, it came more readily when he framed it as a wish.

I wish I wasn't alone.

He repeated a third time. Three times always seemed to be the right amount when it came to willfully using his power. Even now he could see the faint green glow of energy radiating from his hands, trying to catch his words and shape them into whate he was asking for. At school he didn't always need it three times. He could feel the energy building in his gut like a tidal wave and crashing over him when he wished the bullies would leave him alone, or that he'd actually gotten a good grade so Mary wouldn't yell at him, or that the shirt that got torn up and bloody was clean so Frank wouldn't hit him for wasting good clothes.

Now, though, the words didn't seem to catch, and after a moment of held breath, the energy faded back, leaving behind only the briefest flash of sparks and static that he had to shake out of his hands. Apparently even magic, or whatever this was, couldn't help him.

It was a stupid wish, anyway, Tommy realized as he pulled his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. And then, of course, he flinched at the sound of a breaking plate. They were getting bad tonight. He didn't want to be alone, not with them shouting like that. Sometimes it turned into Frank driving off to drink. Sometimes Mary stormed to their room and locked the door, leaving Frank on the couch. The former tended to mean Frank not coming home at all that night, and when he did the next day he smelled like booze and some other woman's perfume. The latter tended to mean Tommy couldn't sneak some breakfast in the kitchen before school, or being caught if he tried and he really didn't want to be on the receiving end of Frank's belt.

“Dammit. All I wanted was someone to talk to.”

He feels the rush of power even as he feels his body go limp and the world go dark around him. It’s a strange mix between a sneeze and passing out. When the sensation passes things are weird. For one thing, he can’t feel his body. There isn’t the cold of his room or the rough drag of his scratchy wool sweater that is too small for him or even the gnawing in his belly. No, there is just the swelling feeling of his magic, a prickly energy across his skin, and this place.

This new place is nicer than his room. There is more space. There are nerdy decorations on the wall. There are no cracks anywhere or dents from fists or broken furniture. He hates seeing how much nicer this place is than his home. But he is more interested in why his magic brought him here. And in the soft green light everything around him seems bathed in. Tommy raises his hand, or maybe just the concept of a hand, and is faced with the scary truth. His whole body is green and transparent. Okay. That is a bit weirder than normal.

Welcome, Tommy Shepherd, to the world of astral projection. And Billy Kaplan? Meet the strange, glowing ghostly boy in your room.

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From:

wearingthestars

Things have been a bit strange for a while. Until recently Billy thought he was about as normal and non-descript as it was possible to be. No one took notice of him apart from Kesler and his friends when they wanted someone to lay into. And then one day- trying to escape them- he finds himself half way across town in a matter of seconds. Getting a handle on these new powers has been hit or miss, and honestly, it's a miracle no one's found him out by now.

But none of that compares to the shock of the sudden apparition that appears in his room. Or at least that's how it feels when Billy notices him, scrambling back and falling off the edge of his bed in blur, before righting himself.

He stares at the figure in disbelief, one that looks far too familiar for comfort. "...Are you real?" It's not the most eloquent question, but it's the first to make it out of his mouth, Billy's cheeks going a bit pink. If it is some kind of hallucination it's not as though it's going to tell him.

From:

doubled_speed

"If I wasn’t real, I wouldn’t tell you," Tommy snaps before he can stop himself. That sort of sass gets you hit and he half cringes to hear it. That and the strangely echoey tone to his voice. This was weird.

Not as weird as what he had just seen. A kid moving so fast that he couldn’t even see the guy as he fell of his bed. Weirder, the kid looked so painfully like him. An alternate universe then? Clearly he’s doing better here. Except all the super hero stuff. Who knew, maybe if he’d ever had an allowance he would have developed interest in nerd things.

Still, he intends to see what this new strangeness means for him. So Tommy moves to the nearby desk and tries to touch a book there. Nope. Hand goes straight through it.

Soooo, ghost?

"Okay, I might be dead. Because I can’t think of a better reason for ‘I want to talk to someone’ having me glowing and green and transparent and not able to touch things. Boo? Or viewing another reality. Is that even a thing?"

From:

wearingthestars

The pink flush spreads, and Billy gives a small laugh without thinking. He darts though to ease his door shut, this being exactly the sort of strange he knows he can't explain to his parents or siblings if they were to peak in. He can't begin to understand it himself.

Watching the hand pass through his book, Billy's head turns curiously, expression softening some at the figure's explanation. There's something sad and familiar about that sort of want, that he can't help but understand.

"...I mean...it might be? Given the whole...similar appearance thing." He gestures between them as though it's not obvious. "So...what did you want to talk about?"

From:

doubled_speed

That... wasn't something Tommy had planned as far as. Maybe that was why the original burst of power hadn't done anything. He couldn't envision what he wanted. Now, though, he just supposes he's got to figure it out. Because this is awkward. He turns back to the strange boy that looks at him, reaching out and pressing an ethereal hand against his cheek. Which it goes through of course. For Billy it would feel like cold and a very light static shock. For Tommy it feels...

It feels like being whole in a way he can't even describe. It almost drags a sob from his lips.

Maybe the first spell had worked. That simple touch had made him feel anything but alone. Like this was him too, another part of him, another piece of him. Strange. That doesn't seem possible. And yet he can't explain the deep certainty.

"Another version of me then," he observes aloud. "I don't know what to talk about. I just... I felt so lonely. My parents are fighting, and I just... I needed to not be alone."

From:

wearingthestars

There's an apprehensive look as the other boy reaches for him, but Billy keeps still, shivering in surprise at the strange sensation it elicits.

He gives an apologetic sort of smile, brow twisting with concern. "...You're not alone," he offers, moving as though to offer a comforting touch, but then flushing again at how futile that gesture is. "Why are they fighting?"

From:

doubled_speed

Now there was the question, wasn't it? Tommy as if to pull his sleeves down a bit. To hide bruises. Thing was, he didn't know that the way he was projecting hid that damage. Oh well.

"Because they always fight. Because they hate each other. Because they hate their freak of a son," Tommy grumbles as he starts pacing, clearly agitated. More than he ever meant to say. But he hadn't expected to find another him. One that is clearly loved by his parents.

From:

wearingthestars

The movement makes Billy frown a little, though he's not entirely sure why, and that expression only grows that much more pronounced.

It's clear that's not a situation he has much personal experience with. His parents almost never fight. They have disagreements, like everyone else, but... He bites at his lips with a pang of sympathy he's not sure how to unleash. This other him...or whatever he is...how is he supposed to help him if he can't even touch him?

"...I'm sure they don't hate you-" he tries, not immediately able to conceive of the possibility of a parent feeling that way.

From:

doubled_speed

Forgive Tommy, because he laughs. Well this person to talk to really is just the sweetest, most sheltered fool, isn’t he? Tommy almost wishes he could yell at the other-him. But that isn’t fair. At all. He has it easy. He couldn’t understand.

"See, that’s all well and good until they tell you that you’re a mistake. That they wish they didn’t have you. That you’re a burden. So you’re wrong, other-me, they really, really do."

From:

wearingthestars

"...They really said that?" He blinks in disbelief. What kind of parent- what kind of person would ever-?

Billy frowns, and tries to slow his racing thoughts, fingers moving as though to try and catch the others in a comforting squeeze. "...You're not- you know that, right?"

From:

doubled_speed

Dude, apparently with nice parents he’s touchy-feely. Weird. Must be a nice luxury. Bet he takes it for granted.

"Just because you’re sorta me doesn’t mean you know who I am," Tommy counters. "Just because you have a good life doesn’t mean you get to see them for who they are when the cards are down. And they have always been down. So maybe they’re right."

They’re probably right. Hear it enough and you believe. Tommy believes. And he hates that he believes. But everyone tells him the same things. So clearly they’re right.

"I don’t want to talk about this," Tommy decides. Because he doesn’t need this other-him or whatever telling him things he wants to believe. It will just make waking up hurt more.

"Tell me about your life," Tommy says. Commands actually, though he doesn’t realize the weight of the words as he says them. Here, in this astral form more deeply tied to his magic, the commands are that much easier. The words reverberate through the cosmos as he gives them, a deep and binding shifting of reality. The other conversation is over.

From:

wearingthestars

"I didn't mean-" Billy starts, but he quiets, frowning softly, trying to find the right words to continue when the other seemingly puts an end to the conversation.

"We live in the Upper West side. Mom's a psychiatrist, Dad's a cardiologist. Two little brothers. Twins. They're busy a lot, but kind of...textbook perfect? A little overbearing sometimes, I guess."

It's as though the words are pulled from him, speaking before he can even think.

"School sucks. Not the school part. But the people part. The school part's fine I guess. But people don't really like me, or...notice me. And ones that do aren't...great."

He really doesn't want to be talking about this, but isn't sure how to stop. Isn't sure he can. "And uh...I think I'm a mutant. I mean, I must be, unless I was bit by some hyperactive spider or something. But no one knows yet- And-"

From:

doubled_speed

That’s a lot of information, and the guy talks fast enough that Tommy has to focus to make sure he doesn’t miss words. At last he holds up his hands, unknowingly breaking the spell.

"Woah, man. I don’t need your whole life story. Let’s back it up a bit. There is no way Frank is a cardiologist. He’s an idiot. So I guess we can rule out alternate universes here. Unless you’re adopted."

Mary had said it once. That she should have put him up for adoption, made him someone else’s problem.

From:

wearingthestars

Oh thank god. Billy takes a breath, blinking in brief confusion, still not entirely sure what compelled him to share so much.

"Frank?" He frowns at the unfamiliar name and shakes his head. "I don't...I don't think so. I think they would have told me." Probably. But the figure before him really seems to suggest otherwise. "...What's your name?" he tries.

From:

doubled_speed

Yeah, who would want to tell their kid that their real parents didn’t love them enough to keep them.

"Tommy."

From:

wearingthestars

"Billy," he supplies in turn, palming the back of his neck. If this isn't some version of him then...how can they look so identical? Out side of Olsen twin movies that doesn't just happen, does it? You don't just run into your mirror image.

"...Are you from New York too?"

From:

doubled_speed

"Jersey," Tommy answers before shaking his head. "You do get that parents can legally change kid’s names when adopting them, right? Especially if a kid is abandoned with no documents at like a church or hospital. And there is also the whole thing where people can agree to adopt before the kid is born? And then the birth mom can let the new family name the kid."

There may have been a period of time where he looked into adoption info on his school computers, praying there was a way he didn’t really belong to the Shepherds.

From:

wearingthestars

"...You sound like you know a lot about this."

Would they really keep something like this from him? Billy's not sure, but it's hard not to wonder when faced with such convincing evidence.

"...You think that's what happened?" Mom and Dad adopted him? Or...gave up his brother.

From:

doubled_speed

Mary complained enough about carrying Tommy and how ungrateful he was that he would highly doubt he had been given up for adoption.

"Don’t know," Tommy shrugs. "No chance your folks are named Frank and Mary and you’re just in some crazy universe where they are smart and considerate and like kids enough to have three and not hit any of them?"

Because he can’t deny how it felt to touch Billy. He couldn’t explain why he knew it, but he did. They are whole together.

From:

wearingthestars

"..." There's a long pause then, Billy's features shifting in sympathy, and finally he shakes his head. "...Jeff and Rebecca," he supplies a bit numbly, a million different thoughts racing through his mind. There has to be something he can do to fix this. To help him.

"...How are you here right now?"

From:

doubled_speed

"I don’t know," Tommy admits with a shrug as he paces around. "I think I’m magic or something. Or, yanno, we can go back to the ghost thing. Which is weirder. I just, when I wish for things, they happen. Sometimes."

This? This wasn’t what he’d wanted to have happen.

From:

wearingthestars

That would have sounded a lot weirder a few months ago. Now though?...it doesn't seem quite so far fetched. Magic is a little easier to swallow than ghost.

"And you wished for someone to talk to?" Not Billy specifically, but...here he is.

From:

doubled_speed

He wished to not be alone. And his magic couldn’t do that. Like it repeatedly couldn’t fix his life. Maybe he just couldn’t believe in it enough.

"And then here I was. Glowy and ghostly. I can’t feel my body. Or anything I touch. Only the energy. And something warm about you."

To explain it all would sound weird.

From:

wearingthestars

Something warm... Billy considers for a second before nodding. All in all, he's taking this a lot better than most people might, but maybe that has something to do with how much he's been longing for someone to talk to himself.

"Doesn't sound like you're dead to me," he offers, "Just...like only part of you is here."

From:

doubled_speed

"Magic. Makes no fucking sense," Tommy grumbles. Because of course it doesn’t. For all he knows he’s fallen asleep in his closet and this is all a dream.

Still, he has someone to talk to. To distract him. He should take advantage of that.

"Are you really a mutant?"

From:

wearingthestars

He gives another small laugh, glancing toward the door to be sure he isn't loud enough to attract notice. If definitely seems that way from everything he's read about it.

He nods, seeming to almost disappear from view as he darts about the room, very nearly upsetting his collection of action figures and hastily having to steady them. He hasn't quite got a handle on this either. "Pretty sure, yeah. I haven't been tested for the X-gene or anything yet, but..." I mean, how else did you explain speed like that?