micyclethearcangle:

it’s stupid, he tells himself, shucking off his boots and climbing up into the umbaran bunk, swallowing the unease down as best he could. he’s not a cadet anymore, he’s a soldier, and he’ll carry himself like one. 

but it just reminded him of –

sitting in the mess hall, and brothers clustering around him, but always sitting alone, even if he got there first, even if he sat closest to the food or viewscreen or another advantageous seat usually fought for. the one time he just felt desperately lonely, and rested his head in his hands, sniffing back tears. 

his squad, in their bed tubes, giggling and talking, and him opening his up, just to find them all suddenly pretending to be asleep. he slides back into the wall and pretends to ignore the whispering and laughing that starts back up as soon as he leaves. 

sitting in a corner of the training grounds during free time and reading through a holo; he never learned how to interact with his brothers so why bother trying it now?

sitting in the ‘fresher for too long, arms curled around his knees and rocking back and forth, not sure how to describe what he’s feeling right now, but that it aches. ( he’s starving for touch; the kaminoans raise clones to be a tightly-knit group, easily physical and interacting with one another as easy as breathing – unfortunately, a pariah is built just as reliant on that touch, that communication )

somewhere along the line, when he wasn’t there, there were rules set up, and he feels like he’s always left out of it. he’d get disappointed looks or disgusted ones when he followed the orders or instructions they were given, and there were jokes he was never in on, games he didn’t know the rules to. 

he thought the 501st was going to be different. 

general skywalker smiles at him and tells him to get some rest, and dogma, still with some of the shiny not rubbed off him, immediately responds i’m fine. that’s something they’re meant to do, right? try and look tough? and rex translates it for him, puts a hand on his shoulder and says the general’s giving you an order, dogma, and that makes sense. 

and fives, too, offering to take dogma under his wing while two of the old 501sters did the same for tup – and he does. he has friends in the 501st, but he stands with dogma and talks to him and chooses to. 

but then he’s following the orders like he should like he should and he can feel them drawing back like they always do but he doesn’t know what to do outside of them because what if he chooses wrong – 

jesse clears his throat. ‘ here comes dogma. ‘ his name, turned again into an insult, something said in a bitter tone or with a sneer. 

he’s fine. it’s fine. he’ll just do better tomorrow.