finally i have finished this, i've been working on it for days and im very happy with it
TWS: Overworking, very much self-esteem issues, purposeful neglect of needs

Scott's builds were a given in any place he chose to live.

Large farms, beautiful homes, and impressive terraformed cliffs were a staple feature of any place he went. But hardly anyone would guess the true reason Scott built them.

Of course, the most obvious answer would be that he simply enjoyed making places look nice, or that he liked building. And while that was true, it wasn't the real reason.

The reason was that Scott was scared. Terrified, even.

Scared of the others leaving him, scared of not being enough, scared of being alone again like he had been for so many years. The void of space was cold and lonely, and human contact was warm and welcome. And Scott couldn't bear the thought of losing that.

He built and built in the hopes that they would consider him valuable enough to keep, petrified that one day he'd discover they had all left him behind. He'd moved with them twice, and they hadn't left him yet, but that didn't mean they wouldn't. Any day, if he stopped or wasn't enough they would abandon him and Scott would be painfully alone again.

That was why he didn't need appreciation for the farms he painstakingly constructed, spending hour upon hour building them. They were for everyone, Scott didn't need to shout it to the world.

And if Scott almost cried sometimes when he saw the others destroy his carefully nurtured crops with no thought for the work put into them? That was fine, he was fine. He didn't need to say anything, he could just fix it. He built it for them after all, they could use it how they wanted!

He didn't mind when the others said nothing about the tower he renovated for them, simply ignoring the fact that it had changed. That was fine, he was fine. He didn't need acknowledgement for his work, he was perfectly content to enjoy the indirect praise they gave him by using it. He didn't want to be too greedy, after all.

He didn't mind when the others demanded supplies and he gave them, getting nothing in return. Not when Wilbur needed food more than most and Tommy was just a kid. It was fine, he was fine. He and Phil were meant to be the responsible ones, after all. And that was what friends were for, right?

Because it was fine, it was his responsibility when he spent long nights trapped on the ground building instead of reaching for the peaks to see the stars. It was his choice, and he could deal with a little sadness. He could deal with

̶N̶o̶ ̶o̶n̶e̶ ̶n̶e̶e̶d̶e̶d̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶k̶n̶o̶w̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶a̶ ̶l̶i̶t̶t̶l̶e̶,̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶S̶c̶o̶t̶t̶ ̶s̶p̶e̶n̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶o̶s̶e̶ ̶n̶i̶g̶h̶t̶s̶ ̶a̶l̶o̶n̶e̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶u̶p̶s̶e̶t̶ ̶b̶e̶c̶a̶u̶s̶e̶ ̶h̶e̶ ̶n̶e̶e̶d̶e̶d̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶s̶e̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶s̶t̶a̶r̶s̶,̶ ̶b̶u̶t̶ ̶i̶n̶s̶t̶e̶d̶ ̶h̶e̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶t̶r̶a̶p̶p̶e̶d̶ ̶h̶e̶r̶e̶.̶ ̶I̶t̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶f̶i̶n̶e̶,̶ ̶h̶e̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶f̶i̶n̶e̶.̶ ̶H̶e̶'̶d̶ ̶d̶o̶n̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶h̶i̶m̶s̶e̶l̶f̶ ̶a̶n̶y̶w̶a̶y̶.̶

He was perfectly fine when he never stopped, never paused for a moment between projects, always leaping from one to the next without a second of rest. He couldn't stop, he couldn't, not when the others needed him to build for them. It was his job, and he didn't dare abandon it.

Everything was perfectly normal. Of course it was. No one bothered to comment on the ever present starborne, or to wonder why they never saw him rest. So it was fine, right? Of course it was fine. He was fine, there was nothing to say otherwise.

After several days' work, Scott had finished decorating the path leading from the farm to the tower. He was exhausted from carefully coaxing bushes to grow and plants to sprout along a painstakingly laid path, but he didn't rest. Instead he moved onto the next project without any time in between.

He never heard Niki's worries about him, or Phil's crows screaming for him to go look after Scott, or Wilbur quietly replanting the crops one day when he was gone. He moved in too quickly, always focused on his next project for them.

The next thing he did was going to be a floating moon and cluster of stars above his base. Scott wanted to cry at how long he knew they would take, but it was fine. He was fine.

The days he spent building the moon and stars were long, the nights longer. Scott didn't stop for anything until he was swaying on his feet from exhaustion, and even then he refused to stop for more than several minutes.

Partially, he knew he needed to stop, couldn't work himself to death. But that thought was pushed to the back of his mind because he needed to satisfy the others. He couldn't ever stop, couldn't rest, so Scott stubbornly kept working.

And kept working.

And kept working.

And kept working, until it was midnight and Scott couldn't stand, curling on the glass weakly, alone and unnoticed, and he couldn't reach the stars because he couldn't even walk, let alone fly. The bright glow of the lights he was placing in the center of each star drilled into his skull and he couldn't escape the painful glare. It was there that he broke, sobbing alone and unnoticed, cries tearing free from his throat desperately, as if calling out for someone to hear.

He wanted to be free, to play like the others did, to take a break, but he couldn't, because what would the others say? Why would they want to keep a useless starborne who did nothing for him? They didn't keep him around out of pity, he had to earn his place here.

It was fine, he was ̶n̶o̶t̶ fine. He would keep going and he would finish the stars and then he'd move on to the next thing they needed, no matter how much he just wanted to sit there and sob for all the nights he'd lost to unappreciated work, putting his soul into doing things the others would never even notice. He had to stop, had to keep going, had to keep moving.

He was perfectly n̶o̶t̶ fine with building forever and pushing himself without rest. He was ̶n̶o̶t̶ content to build forever with no thanks, nothing in return save for a place among the group. Because that was all Scott wanted! All he needed. The only thing he truly wanted was a home, a family after centuries alone.

And maybe the reason they never thanked him for his work was because he didn't need thanks, not when it was the least he could do for the others, with all their weaknesses and needs. Not when he himself had too much power, shouldn't need to ask for anything from them. He simply needed to earn his place among them, and this was how he did so. Why thank him for that?

So Scott was fine. He was fine as he attempted to wipe away his tears, curling into a small ball, exhausted from the constant stress of building everything. But it was worth it if he could be just slightly less alone, right? That was all he wanted, so that was what he would work for.

Even if he still felt alone, distant from the others, trapped just as much as he'd been before. Even if he never really saw the others as much as he wanted to. But that was fine. He was fine. He could survive. And they would be so much happier to not have to worry about him.

Everything would be fine, he told himself, as he shakily stood back up from where he lay on the warm glass of one of the fake stars. He looked out over the valley and he saw again what he was doing this for; a life of peace and prosperity among friends.

So what if Scott contributed more? That was fine! That was normal. Besides, he could handle it. No one had forced him to take on the role of a builder, he'd done it himself, and so he had to be able to keep it. The image of their disappointed expressions when they cast him away if he were to admit that he couldn't do something was too terrifying to imagine.

He would make sure his friends had a peaceful life with everything they needed. He didn't want to fail, didn't want to be cast away again. He was a star, he'd shine and he'd stand out as the most helpful one in the valley. He would make them all happy, and show how much they needed him.

But deep down, Scott couldn't suppress the raging feelings of fire. Because the truth is, stars are fires raging in space. Vast fires, yes, but all fires are the same, feeding themselves and eventually eating everything around it.

Scott's fire was fed by his longing and worry, the hopes that one day he'd be free and happy with a family, and the worries that he would never be enough. But a fire tends to spreads beyond its source, and Scott was terrified that one day he wouldn't be enough to stop it.

So for now he kept the fire at bay by ignoring it, and focusing eternally on task after task, keeping himself too busy for the fire to have a chance to turn on anyone else. But he was burning up, burning out, falling apart, and one day it would all come tumbling down.

One day, but that day was no time soon. And with his constant building, Scott would do his best to make sure that day would never come.