Bubble Boy

The city sprawled below like a patchwork quilt, neon signs blinking in rhythm with the steady pulse of the night. Starman soared through the sky, his body heavy with the weight of everything he had faced. The guilt, the regret, it clung to him like a second skin, impossible to shake off.

In his ear, Jace's voice cut through the silence, a steady presence in the chaos of his thoughts.

"Let me show you something."

Starman didn't respond. His gaze was fixed ahead, but he felt the pull of Jace's words. He didn't know what the other man wanted to show him, he wasn't sure he even cared. He just wanted the night to end, to disappear into the dark and leave everything behind.

But he didn't fight it. Not this time.

They descended slowly, past towering skyscrapers, through clouds that broke apart like shattered glass. The streets of the city stretched wide beneath them, bustling with the life that seemed so foreign to him now.

Starman followed Jace, his eyes catching on the man's hovering form. Jace was casually reclining on a floating hoverboard, a bucket of popcorn in hand as he snacked in the air. He tossed a few kernels into his mouth and motioned for Starman to join him. With a tired sigh, Starman mimicked the movement, floating beside Jace, his arms behind his head, letting his body drift lazily through the night air.

They hovered in silence, looking down. The city stretched out beneath them, but there was only one place Jace was taking him. The old plaza. Where it all started.

The plaza that had once been his symbol. The monument to the man who had stood proud, towering over the city, looking down with a kind of arrogant strength that now felt distant, almost alien.

The statue.

It had been years, but it still stood. Even after everything. Even after the destruction, the anger, the pain he had caused. The once-pristine figure of Starman had become a mockery of itself. Graffiti stained the surface. Hateful words, derogatory, cruel, condemning, covered it like a cloak. Murderer. False god. Traitor. The paint dripped, seeping into the stone, twisting his image into something monstrous.

Starman gazed at it, his chest tight. He could feel the burn of shame. He had wanted to be a symbol. He had wanted to inspire. But now all that was left was this, this fractured memory of who he had been.

And yet, just as he was about to look away, a family appeared in the corner of his vision.

A father and mother, each wearing faded Starman merchandise, shirts, hats, keychains. Their son, a small boy, wore something different, a little piece of plastic wrapped around his chest with the words Bubble Boy printed on it. A soft blue color. The child smiled up at the statue, the pride in his eyes evident even as he tugged on his parents' hands, excited.

The parents began to clean the statue. Gently, as if they were wiping away the years of hatred and neglect. The mother carefully scrubbed the base, while the father wiped the face, lifting the cloth and revealing the gleam of the stone beneath.

The boy, his eyes wide with awe, stood back. "Was he really as great as they say he was?"

The parents shared a glance, a quiet moment between them. The mother smiled softly, the lines of her face worn by time but not by regret. "Greater," she said, her voice filled with a love that couldn't be shaken by anything. "He was greater than they ever knew."

Starman's heart skipped a beat. He didn't know how to react to this, a family that still believed in him, that held on to the idea of him, despite everything. Despite him. He had thought the world had forgotten him, turned its back on him completely. But here was a family, a glimmer of hope that refused to die.

Jace, floating beside him, looked down with a quiet smile. "See? There are still people who believe in you."

The words stung, bittersweet. He didn't deserve this. He wasn't that man anymore. But still, the ache in his chest deepened.

Before he could respond, something changed. The moment shifted, twisted.

From the edge of the plaza, a few civilians had gathered, watching the family. At first, it was just murmurs, a few shaking heads. But then, someone threw a rotten tomato. It splattered against the father's back.

"Traitor," someone yelled.

"Disgrace!" another voice shouted.

The father staggered, trying to shield his family. The mother clenched her fists, but the boy's face fell, confusion, hurt, disbelief.

Another rotten food item landed with a wet splat, followed by more shouts, more curses. The crowd was growing, some yelling, some throwing whatever they could find. The mother stood her ground, but she was outnumbered, and the boy... the boy looked scared.

Tears welled in the boy's eyes as he tugged on his father's sleeve. "Why are they doing this?" he whispered, trembling.

Jace's face turned cold. He glanced at Starman. "Let's go."

Starman didn't need to be told twice. Without a word, he turned, lifting off into the air, the city below him a blur. Jace floated beside him, his hoverboard humming softly.

They soared higher, leaving the chaos behind. The sounds of the shouting, the taunts, the hatred grew distant, fading into the night as they climbed. Starman couldn't shake the image of the boy's face, the tears in his eyes.

Jace was quiet for a long time, before speaking again, his voice gentle.

"Not everyone believes, Starman. But there are still people who do. And that... that's worth something."

Starman didn't answer. He didn't know what to say.

He wasn't sure there were enough people left to make a difference.

But for the first time in what felt like forever, he didn't feel entirely alone.