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“So.” X leaned forward, staring straight into his eyes, smiling. Uranus almost wanted to look away, but the pull of his eyes and the cruel joy of finally being seen made him keep looking. “What do you wish could change? I’d prefer to hear it from you.”
Uranus rubbed at his throat, pressing his lips together, a smile nevertheless cropping up. X wanted to hear from him. He wasn’t being overlooked… for once. “I don’t know, mate. I just…I don’t even have the furthest orbit, and I feel like I’m forgotten about constantly. I—Saturn came to me looking for Neptune, once. Came to me, looking for Neptune. Am… Am I just the… the conduit for him, or something?” It felt like his thoughts were twisting in every which way, everything he’d ever allowed himself to think in the worst moments cropping up. “And Neptune never seems to care about how far away we are. He’s…”
X interrupted him, blinking with something like pity in his eyes. It tore at his core, another strike added to million already there. “Shouldn’t the fact that you care about it be all that Neptune needs to care? If you’re—so close, why wouldn’t he?”
Uranus pressed his lips together and stared into the distance. Why wouldn’t he? But he shook the thought out of his mind, something sharp rising in his core. “Neptune does care… he just doesn’t show it that well. He…”
“I’ve seen you, Uranus. All those times that someone overlooked you—Neptune does it too, doesn’t he? Don’t you remember all that drama with the rings?” X’s voice turned sharp, and Uranus startled as he reached out, flicking at the shining ring of white around his head. “How Neptune ignored that you have rings and asked Saturn about them not that long ago? I don’t see why everyone is so ignorant about yours. They’re so pretty. And you flaunt them so much less than… others.”
“Weren’t you just talking about Saturn’s rings… earlier?”
X rolled his eyes. “Yes. But yours are so much better.” He reached out, spinning the rings with one hand as Uranus’s core constricted, the words blazing through his thoughts. Their eyes met, the fathomless blue tugging him in like always. “So much prettier. They fit you perfectly.” Uranus couldn’t even speak for a moment, his thoughts so scattered…and then X reached out, pressing one hand on his shoulder, the contact pulling him out of his trance. “Don’t you agree?”
“You…” He stumbled over his words, his mouth suddenly dry. “You mean it, mate?”
X smiled, lips tugged up in one corner. “Of course I do. I told you. I’ve seen you.”
Without preamble, Uranus darted forward, throwing his arms around X in a tight hug—and for a moment, X stood still, completely frozen, like he hadn’t expected it…and just as Uranus went to pull back, sure he’d ruined the best thing to happen to him in a while… X’s arms tightened around him, almost impossibly so, tearing a wheeze from him.
“Thank you,” X whispered into his ear, the sound quiet, wavery… almost vulnerable. Uranus just dug his chin into X’s shoulder and allowed himself to glory in the affection. It was nice. It was perfect. It was all he needed.
It was—
“Uranus! X!” Neptune’s voice rang out behind him suddenly, and Uranus tore himself away from X, wringing his hands together in front of his chest. “I followed the moons!”
X arched one eyebrow—and in what felt like a repeat of before, Uranus let his gaze dart between the two of them, his words caught in a web. “…And?”
Neptune’s eyes darted towards him. “Uranus! I missed you!”
Uranus knit his brow. “It’s not even been long, mate.”
“Still.” Neptune beamed, and Uranus felt it soothe over his core a little, making him sigh. It was silent for a long moment, and Uranus almost wanted to say something.
“I think we should ask the Sun to bring Jupiter back,” Neptune said suddenly, making both X and Uranus share a glance. Where did that come from? “The isolation can’t be good for him!” He spun. “I would know.”
X rolled his eyes. “Wow. Not even a bit of the time I spent alone and Jupiter’s already got people wanting him back. Feels amazing.” Uranus shot Neptune a look, his eyes slightly narrowed. What was he thinking?
“No! Listen, you can stay here too. Nothing has to change! We can fix things.” Neptune twisted his mouth to one side, almost pouting. “Nothing needs to change. Everyone can be happy!”
Nothing needs to change. Nothing needs to change.
Uranus bit hard at the inside of his cheek, his hands shaking suddenly. Neptune was still speaking, smiling wide, but the words weren’t reaching him. Nothing needs to change. And then X’s words bloomed back into his thoughts, pushing aside everything else, until even Neptune seemed blurry in his vision.
Make sure this Solar System changes for the better.
And Uranus knew exactly which one he preferred more.
“Neptune.” His voice sounded sharp even to him, almost cutting. Neptune stopped talking immediately, his head tipping to one side, his eyes filled with confusion. “Are you… serious?”
“Serious?” Neptune blinked at him, still beaming. “Of course I’m serious, cousin? What else would I be!?” He spun himself around, fingers wiggling in the air—and Uranus just watched, his mouth a thin line, his teeth grinding together.
“Nothing needs to change,” he repeated when Neptune finally settled down, the words dragging out of him. “Nothing needs to change. Are you serious, mate? Am I nothing to you?”
“What?” Neptune finally reacted, his brows knitting. “Of course you’re not nothing to me! We’re—”
“Stop.” Uranus clenched his hands, biting down hard on his bottom lip. “Then why do you—” His eyes burned, and he resolutely ignored it, his mind dragging up centuries of memories suddenly. “Why do you always disappear on me? Leave me alone like I’m not—” just as lonely as you are, he didn’t say, strangling the words back. X laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, comfortingly, and Uranus sighed. “You never take me seriously. You ruined my painting that one time, remember? And you didn’t seem to care.” When painting is one of the only things I have for me.
Uranus kept talking, the words spilling out of him in a helpless flow. “And you never seem to notice when I’m feeling wrong about something. What was that earlier, mate? I tell you that we have a chance to be cool for once and you tell me that we already are? We’re left out of EVERYTHING, mate!” The word lashed out of him like a physical strike, and Neptune’s smile wavered completely; Uranus felt bad for a second, but X’s hand on his shoulder tightened, and he just swallowed hard, narrowing his eyes. “But I guess you never notice that.” His hands clenched even harder at his sides, nails digging sharp into his palms. “How would you?”
Neptune blinked in that funny way he did—one eye first, and then the other—and his smile dropped away completely. “Uranus?”
His voice was quieter than before, and the tiny part of Uranus’s core that rioted at the possibility of making Neptune sad was quickly eclipsed by the sound of X in his ear. “Remember,” he hissed, the hand on his shoulder squeezing once, twice, three times. “I’m there for you.” Neptune’s eyes darted toward X, his expression crumpling in sudden concern—and Uranus registered that he was reaching out with one hand, his eyebrows drawn.
“Cousin—”
And suddenly, the anger boiled over in his core, coursing through his veins with a fierce strength that made him ground his teeth together. “I’m not your COUSIN!” He smacked Neptune’s hand away and took a step back, bumping straight into X. “Why do you keep calling me that? Why did X notice how uncomfortable I was with that and not you?! What is with you?” His thoughts swirled in his mind, equal to the strength of the storms on his surface, and suddenly everything he’d ever held back was cropping up, magnified a million times worse.
“You’re…” He swallowed hard, watching the misery in Neptune’s expression develop. “I thought you were my friend. But I suppose not.” His eyes burned, a horrible feeling rising in his throat—and Uranus whipped around, shoving X’s hand off his shoulder as he fled for the Kuiper Belt.
“Uranus!” He heard, Neptune’s voice high, layered with anguish—and then X’s voice, low and hissed.
“Oh no you don’t. You did this, didn’t you?”
Uranus clasped one hand over his mouth, nails digging into his cheek as his shoulders shook with the force of his sobs. He wasn’t ever sure why he felt so bad. He just knew he did.
“Uranus?” The quiet voice took him by surprise at first, and Uranus frantically drew his hand over his face, wiping away tears—but when he turned around, it wasn’t Neptune looking at him. It was X.
“Are you okay?”
Uranus’s voice crackled out of him, staticky. “I’m fine, mate.”
X gave him a look, settling down, right next to him. “Sure about that?”
He gave a tiny, crackly laugh despite everything. “Yes.”
“I didn’t mean for it to turn into that. I hope… I hope I didn’t ruin your friendship with Neptune,” X said, staring at him with something like pity in his eyes. Uranus dropped his head—and then let himself lean against X, more tears springing to life in his eyes. “This was supposed to be good for both of us.”
“It’s fine,” he replied, rubbing harshly at his eye. “You didn’t do anything.”
It was silent for another few moments, and then an arm drew around his shoulders, tugging him close. “Don’t worry, Uranus. You’ve still got me. I wasn’t lying earlier. I understand you, and we’re going to stick together. No matter what.”
“No matter what,” Uranus repeated. He stared through the asteroids into the distant dark beyond, and let out a slower breath, his tears slowly disappearing, X’s arm around his shoulders a comforting weight. “No matter what.” He turned to look at X, and for a moment Uranus swore his expression spasmed with something like regret—and then it disappeared, replaced by a brilliant smile, teeth bared. “Thank you, mate.”
“Oh, don’t mention it.” X tilted his head to the side. “I already told you. I’m there for you.”
Uranus blinked, feeling another tear squeeze out of his eye. He may have just exploded on Neptune… ruined his friendship… but at least he had X. He wasn't alone.
That was all that mattered.