He'd known all his life he was different, the problem was that he didn't know what was different about him. After another horrible schoolday, he arrived in his house, running towards his room immediately. As always, his mother came right after him, a concerned look on her face. And as always, he locked himself up in his room. His dark, small room. He didn't need much room to live in, just a bed was enough.
“Hey, Star,” he heard his mother say through the door, “Are you okay?”
He shook his head with his eyes closed, sitting on his bed. “No.”
He could never lie to his mom, to the one who called him Star. She called him that because – like she'd told him once – he was a star to her. No matter who he was and what he did. His mother was everything to him, yet he kept pushing her out of his life. He had a reason for it though. He knew that one day, no matter when, he would discover in what way he was different, and he knew that whatever he would be would make him far too different for anyone to understand. His classmates already bullied him because he had a bald head and a strange mark on his forehead, he didn't dare to imagine what they would do when they would find out his powers. Whatever they were.
“Do you need to talk?”
Once again, he shook his head. “No.”
“Will you come down for dinner when it's ready?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
And without asking anything else, his mother left him by himself, just like he wanted her to. She didn't know how much she understood him, in some way, she seemed to have a bond with him, an emotional bond, and that bond was so strong that not a door nor anything else could split that bond.

  It had been fifteen minutes since his mother had went downstairs, and the only thing he'd done since that'd happened was staring at his arms and legs. For no special reason. He just felt like doing something, discovering something. It had been long enough. The time not knowing what was going on with him was over. He wanted to know what was going on with him, no matter what the consequences would be.
He put his hand on his stomac when it growled, trying to keep it quiet. He hadn't eaten yet, stupid bullies who took his lunch from him every day. He took a deep breath, pulling his stomac inwards, and when he breathed out softly, a powerful kind of fire came from his forehead, hitting his left arm. He shouted loudly in pain, doing the whole action he'd done before again, destroying his right leg. He fell onto the floor of his dark room, screaming even louder now. Though he screamed and yelled and felt a pain that was so awful, he didn't cry. He'd never been a cryer.
“Star, what's going on??” His mom saw the blood spilled over her son's bed and floor. “What happened??”
“I-I don't know,” he replied, shocked, “I-I-I just took a deep breath and I-Mom!” One tear fell from his eye. “It hurts.”
After looking around for something that could stop the bleeding, she took the sheets off the bed and put it around her boy, picking him up in her arms. Though she tried not to let it notice, she knew what was going on. And, as smart as her son was, her boy noticed.
“M-Mom? Do-Do you know what's going on with m-me?” he asked, shaking.
“Let's just put it this way,” she said, starting to go downstairs, “You're not only my Star...” She opened the door and started running, covering his face. “You're my Combustion Man too.”