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Description
Mundane

By Invader-Hime

It feels so strange.

He's sitting in his living room reading a book, catching up on studies he missed while he was...under the weather.  That's what he calls it.  Everyone just smiles and nods.  No one could ever understand and he doesn't want them to.  He just wants things to go back to the way they were.

This life he had before...it isn't what he remembers.

He no longer has a reason to hide.  He is proud of the way he looks.  Still...whenever someone walks into the room, he starts.  He flinches.  He's had more than one pair of eyes narrowed at him.

It feels odd having his face uncovered after so long.  He likes it, but it feels strange.  Girls blush when he looks of them and while that certainly puffs his ego, it makes his stomach flip flop in ways that he does not particularly care for.  He sometimes longs for the cold, comforting brush of metal on his cheeks.  He lies in bed for hours, trying to fall asleep.  His pillow is too soft, he can't find comfort in it without something between him and it.

Michael Morningstar is starting to feel like the life he wanted back is no longer the one he needs or was meant for...but that makes him feel lost like before...because if this is not where he belongs...where does he belong?

After so much time drenched in the abnormal...the everyday, the mundane is what feels alien.

The irony is not lost on him.

Description
Mundane

By Invader-Hime

It feels so strange.

He's sitting in his living room reading a book, catching up on studies he missed while he was...under the weather.  That's what he calls it.  Everyone just smiles and nods.  No one could ever understand and he doesn't want them to.  He just wants things to go back to the way they were.

This life he had before...it isn't what he remembers.

He no longer has a reason to hide.  He is proud of the way he looks.  Still...whenever someone walks into the room, he starts.  He flinches.  He's had more than one pair of eyes narrowed at him.

It feels odd having his face uncovered after so long.  He likes it, but it feels strange.  Girls blush when he looks of them and while that certainly puffs his ego, it makes his stomach flip flop in ways that he does not particularly care for.  He sometimes longs for the cold, comforting brush of metal on his cheeks.  He lies in bed for hours, trying to fall asleep.  His pillow is too soft, he can't find comfort in it without something between him and it.

Michael Morningstar is starting to feel like the life he wanted back is no longer the one he needs or was meant for...but that makes him feel lost like before...because if this is not where he belongs...where does he belong?

After so much time drenched in the abnormal...the everyday, the mundane is what feels alien.

The irony is not lost on him.