Chapter Text
Star (noun)
/stɑː(r)/
/stɑːr/
[countable] a large ball of burning gas in space that we see as a point of light in the sky at night
***
Fire ignites in the presence of oxygen. From a young age, Jay knew what to do if one ever broke out.
- Turn of the gas or cover the fire with a wet cloth
- Use the fire extinguisher
- Run
(but Jay never knew that he was only supposed to do the first two if he was not in danger of injury. Just like how he was never taught to crawl to escape the cloying smoke that had the potential to suffocate and kill him)
_____
The kitchen was a place of solitude for Jay. It was the only place where he was in control of the fire that existed there. It gave him some semblance of power in a life where he was constantly being trampled on.
Thinking he had control over anything was laughable, really. But if he closed his eyes really really tightly, he would be able to ignore the burning sensation of his left cheek and the ticklish sensation of blood trickling down down his temple.
In a house that felt more like a cage, Jay was the safest in the kitchen. Which was ironic considering how the potentially dangerous objects were kept there. However, compared to the monsters prowling outside the confines of the kitchen, Jay would definitely say that a little slice on his thumb is far better than a broken rib.
But Jay would never complain even if the latter happened to him.
He deserved it.
⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚
The kitchen was a place of solitude for Jay. Until the gas that he had tried his hardest to seal away tainted the once pure surface of the marble countertops. And when it comes to Jay, he will always be the spark that lights the flame.
It will and will always be his fault that things burn to the ground.
And no one will ever care about the boy who was once wailing for his mother as he was dragged away from her cold body. As he was shut in the attic and called a curse, a murderer. No one would ever care for that jinxedhurt little boy who was barely given scraps survive.
And most of all, no one would bat an eye about him, who was the sole reason for the deaths of everyone who once lived in the impressive mansion down the street.
The mansion where Jay used to live with his parents.
The mansion that Jay had supposedly set fire to.
The fire that had consumed every acre of land, blazing higher and higher, creeping further and further. It burnt every inch of the mansion down, killing dozens of staff and snatching away Jay’s mother.
He had started the fire. He had killed his mother.
And so, it inevitably was his fault.
Even if he was four and barely able to grasp the concept of grief, much less hate and abandonment.
He grasped it quickly enough, though.
(he had to)
So yes, he did deserve it.