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Johnny flew faster after that. It was sort of hard to tell at first, but when he looked around he couldn't see individual stars anymore, just warped waves of beyond light travel filled with galaxies. How was he supposed to find his own? All he knows is that it is far from the edge, and that is what he is flying away from.
He needs to find civilization, an advanced enough society to point him the right direction. He knows Reed has found a few, but those are no doubt closer to the Milky Way, and he has no way of knowing where they are in relation to his current position anyway.
What he needs is luck, and it seems to somewhat be on his side, if his current survival is anything to go by.
So Johnny travels, eats stars to keep up his energy (while attempting to ignore how damn weird that is), and hopes he gets lucky.
It's when his broken comm unit tells him a year has passed that he learns it wasn't good luck keeping him alive, but bad luck. A curse, except he is the curse.
It was an accident. It was an accident. He was tired, he didn't know the orbiting planet around the old star was inhabited, hadn't cared enough to make sure. None of the stars he'd eaten sustained life, why would this one be any different? The one time his exhaustion overpowers his sense. The one time the black hole that used to be his gut overpowers his desire to get home as soon as possible.
He was just so tired. He didn't mean to steal their sun.
Johnny stalls in space, hovering in the place where once was a star. Panic rages through his veins, his mind, terror making his gasps come shallow. There isn't enough oxygen in space, and it seems like his lungs have just remembered that.
He wheezes and curls into himself, wreathed in fire bright enough to blind. His entire body trembles, wracked with tremors that make his flames shiver and lash out like something alive. He refuses to look at his hands, the hands that must be covered in blood, though he knows by all logic they aren't. Even if they had been, it would have been burned away quicker than he could process.
But it's still there, haunting him, taunting him with the knowledge that he is now a monster. Like Galactus, all he does is consume and hurt. This is what he is now, this isn't something he can change. He has the blood of an entire planet on his hands.
Johnny is too far above the planet to see its inhabitants, but he knows soon, if they aren't already, they will be panicking, praying to whatever gods they believe in, and holding their love ones close, because soon their civilization will realize they have no sun at all.
There are ships swarming up from the atmosphere, from the little space station orbiting their home. They aren't built like Reed's, impeccable and meant for distance travel. These are old and rickety, leftovers of a bygone age of war, capable only of basic travel. Still, they are war machines, ready to defend their planet against threats and right now Johnny is the biggest threat of them all.
"I'm sorry," he cries, voice tight, "I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to!" The tears that make it past his eyes evaporate almost instantly. There is no catharsis to be found in them, only fear.
The ships fire at him, and his flames can't help but hungrily absorb the rays of light. They reach out seeking more, seeking destruction, but he reins them in with all his might. They twist around him in a furious inferno, protective and hungry and filled with so much guilt.
"Leave me alone, please!" Johnny yells, and his voice is distorted, nearly unrecognizable. It echoes the panicked thoughts flying around in his head like a tornado, unconstrained and wild. "You're only making it worse!"
They ships don't stop, and neither do his flames. They lash out like a solar flare, and the row of ships closest are burnt to a crisp. Johnny clutches his head as he feels his flames eat through metal hulls and living flesh alike, all devouring and insatiable. His survival isn't good luck at all. He did this. He did this.
"I'm sorry. Stop, please stop." His voice is a whisper, and the words are garbled beyond understanding. He can't leave this planet to die alone, and he can't stand to watch them die. He's only hurting them more when he just want to help. Despair and terror claw up his throat, energy building from within his core, the energy he stole from these people and condemned them to death over, all because he was hungry. He releases it in a furious roar, "Leave me alone!".
And then; blessed silence, within his own mind. His thoughts slow as all that pent up energy leaves him in a massive burst, chasing away the ships, the noise in his head, and the blood on his hands.
He feels locked in place, a well of gravity, anchored to this solar system. He couldn't leave if he tried, couldn't leave if he wanted to. He burns like a new sun, and perhaps that is enough to save them.
If he opened his eyes, he'd see only infinite white. A vision obscured by the flames that leave him now, to replace the sun that was taken.
It had only been an accident, and now he would never see his family again.
So much for second chances.
He curls in tighter around himself, burying his face in his arms.
He wonders what they would think of him now. Johnny Storm, a man that doomed himself and an entire planet completely by accident.
He thinks of Sue's smile, Ben's laugh. He thinks of Reed and 'I finally crossed it off the list'. He thinks of holding little Franklin for the first time, and the way so much love had welled up in his chest that he wasn't sure what to do with it.
He misses them so, so much. He understood the silence when left that final time, but now he wishes they had said something. A single word from Sue, so he knew she was alive. A protest from Ben, about what he was about to do. Anything from Reed. Affirmation, maybe, that he was making the right choice.
It had been the right choice, he was sure of that. He didn't regret it, couldn't, when it was the only thing holding him together.
But he wishes they'd said something. Because, right now, the only thing he hears is silence, and he is so very afraid.