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X sat with him in Kuiper Belt for longer than Uranus thought he would, seemingly fine with sitting in complete silence as Uranus tried to get his thoughts in order, tried to ignore just how bad he felt about erupting on Neptune. He almost wanted to apologize… but then he let himself remember exactly what led them to this moment, the magnitude of how… forgotten he felt, and his want to apologize swept away underneath the force of it. Neptune would be fine without him. He always had been.
They were leaning against each other, but neither of them had pointed it out—just as much as neither of them seemed likely to move. It was only when Uranus spotted X throwing increasingly discontent looks towards the emptiness beyond the end of the Belt that he finally sat up, tugging at his braid. It probably wasn’t… fun for X to be quite this close to the edge of the Kuiper Belt again.
“Thank you, mate,” he said, slowly. “I think we should probably head to our orbits now, though.” He sent X a weak smile and was rewarded with a brilliant grin, his eyes gleaming. “Don’t want to be away from them for too long or the Sun will get angry.”
“Oh, I don’t think either of us will have to care about what the Sun says,” X said, his grin gaining a sharper edge. Uranus pushed up onto his feet and held one hand out towards X; he grabbed it and pulled himself up, squeezing their hands together before letting the grip drop. “But it’s whatever you’d like, Uranus. I’m here for you after all, aren’t I?”
Uranus looked away and tugged at his braid again, his smile turning genuine. He felt a tiny flush in his cheeks and willed it away with a shake of his head. “…Thanks, X,” he repeated, finally, “but I really should probably speak to my moons at some point. They’re probably wondering where I went.”
X’s hand clapped against his shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. “I’ll head back to my new orbit, then. Hopefully the moons are back by then, huh?” Just as Uranus looked back at him, X looked towards the Sun, his eyes glittering with something angry, something prideful. “Whenever you’re ready to get things started, Uranus, you just find me. I know exactly what we need to do. Things are going to change around here. Just like I—we deserve.” X stumbled over the word for a second, and Uranus nodded, barely holding back a frown as uncertainty writhed in his chest. It was…probably nothing. But—
X turned—and then paused, looking back at him, the one blue eye visible suddenly dark enough to pass for black. “And I wouldn’t trust Saturn, either, Uranus.”
That made his frown bloom, his thoughts deterred completely. “What?” He clenched one hand at his side, the other sliding inside his jacket pocket, plucking at the material. “What do you mean, X? Saturn’s—”
“Just like Neptune,” X interrupted, practically snapping the name and making Uranus bite at his cheek, the uncertainty in his chest rising higher, “Saturn wouldn’t want things to change either. He’d be happy with making you stay the same for the rest of your life. Didn’t you notice he kept trying to interject during Jupiter’s trial?” He turned back, turning his full attention onto him, and Uranus swallowed hard. “He was trying to say that he helped Jupiter eject me.”
Uranus felt his lips part, a buzz sounding off in his ears for a few seconds. His thoughts were all wiped away, replaced by a single— “What?”
“He was just as much a part of it as Jupiter. But I couldn’t let them be banished together, could I?” X’s smile turned dark, an edge to it that Uranus didn’t quite like—but neither could he fault X for his anger. Wouldn’t he be the same if he was ejected into the emptiness beyond the Solar System for billions of years? “That’d practically be a happy ending for them.”
Uranus knit his brows, blinking hard. He pressed one hand against his mouth and grimaced, and immediately X took a step towards him. He leaned forward again, the look in his eyes softening. “I’m not saying they’re evil, Uranus,” he said, eyes suddenly searching, his brows knit, one hand reaching out to drop onto his shoulder, squeezing. “I’m just saying they wouldn’t want… we wouldn’t be happy. And with my plan… everyone that matters will be happy. Including you. Don’t you want to be happy? To be recognized?”
Everyone that matters.
Including you.
“I…okay,” Uranus croaked out—and then he dropped his face into his hands, hiding a frown as he tried to think past the sudden doubt building in his core. What else didn’t he know about this Solar System? What else had he been left out of knowing? “Bloody hell, this is insane, mate.”
X laughed, the sound low. “How do you think I feel, Uranus?” He felt a tug at his braid and looked up to see X grinning at him—and then he winked, laughing again, and the infernal flush from earlier returned with a vengeance. “But I’ll see you later. Don’t take long,” he said, tilting his head to the side and whipping around as he said the final word, “mate.”
Uranus watched him slip away through the asteroids, crossing his arms over his chest, his fingers pulling the material of his jacket taut. A shudder wracked through him as he worked his jaw, the tension in his muscles building higher and higher as the seconds passed. His face still felt warm, a fact he tried to ignore with all of the strength he could muster. “Bye, mate,” he said, softly, once X had fully disappeared from the Kuiper Belt. “…Thank you.”
What was he thanking X for?
For making him feel seen for once? For comforting him? For…?
Uranus shot one look backwards into the emptiness, the inky black; and distantly wondered for half a second if Jupiter was doing okay before he squashed the thought down, grinding his teeth together. He dragged his nails across the back of his neck and blew out a heavy sigh before finally moving himself, his pace slow and plodding as he made his way back to his orbit.
——
He passed into the boundary of his orbit and immediately felt his shoulders slump, the familiar comfort weaving through his veins a much-needed feeling; he could tell his moons were somewhere near, the familiar connection with them strong as ever, and as he passed his gaze over the empty space around him he finally spotted the familiar grouping of them in the distance.
His speed increased just slightly, and Uranus felt a tiny smile overtake his face as he glided to a stop. “Hey, mates,” he said, his smile growing a bit larger as the bulk of them looked up at him with responding smiles.
“Uranus!” Miranda waved up at him, beaming bright—and Uranus felt a little bit of the uncertainty in his core soothe back. “We missed you!” He dropped down next to them and pulled his knees up, head pillowed against his arms. “I can’t believe what happened,” she chattered, giving him a happy look. “A whole new planet, and Jupiter’s…”
Uranus interrupted her. “Hey, mate, let’s not talk about that, yeah? Why don’t you tell me…” He searched for anything else to bring up, frowning. “…tell me…” His own inability to think made frustration bubble up in his chest, and he groaned, burying his face deeper against his arms. “Why don’t you give me a little bit of time, Miranda?”
When he looked up, Miranda was blinking at him, a confused, worried frown on her face. “Oh, okay…” She tilted her head to the side. “I hope you’re okay, Uranus!” A tiny smile returned to his lips, and he sighed.
“I just need a little bit of time, mate. No worries.” She beamed at him again, nodding—and then turned, returning to the rest of the moons as Uranus worried at his bottom lip, eyes darting into the distance. With X gone, he couldn’t help but indulge in the discontent weighing over him, making him feel like someone had decided to throw a Jupiter-sized weight on his chest… and hadn’t removed it. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his face against his arms again—and then felt a tap against his hand.
“Mira—” His voice cut off as he realized who was looking at him, her eyes narrowed. “Oh, Titania. It’s nice to see you, mate, I just—” But his words trailed off again as Titania crossed her arms over her chest, giving him a worried frown.
“You fought with Neptune,” she said, the words so sudden that they made him straighten up. “What’s wrong, Uranus?”
She’d grown… a lot, recently, apparently. Uranus shook his head—and when he tried to speak, two answers mixed up within him, resulting in a very… wrong, answer. “Nothing’s fine, mate.”
She blinked at him, her brows knitting. “What?”
“No,” Uranus pressed one hand against his forehead. “I meant nothing’s wrong. Everything’s fine. It was just a spat. Nothing you need to worry about.”
“A spat? It looked…” She trailed off. Uranus frowned, more frustration boiling in his chest. Everything would be fine! He just needed to work with X, and everyone would be happy in the end. Everything was just… leading towards that.
“It’s fine,” he said, a little stronger this time. “I promise, Titania.”
“Are you sure?” She probed, arching one eyebrow, her arms crossing tighter. “It seemed like—”
“We just had a much-needed discussion about… things, mate. Recognition of feelings,” he said, the words poisonous as they crept out of him. “Recognition. Nothing you need to worry about.”
Her eyes turned flinty suddenly. “We don’t need to worry about recognition?”
“Well… yeah, mate. You’re not a planet,” Uranus said, furrowing his brow. “I don’t think you’d understand how I felt—how I feel.” His words felt strained suddenly, everything within him washed away in regret as Titania’s lips pressed together, her eyes narrowing.
“Hmm,” she said, “Not like the moons had a whole revolution about recognition. But sure. We wouldn’t know.”
Uranus widened his eyes, one hand lifting up as he opened his mouth—but Titania turned around and walked away from him without another word, and so he just squeezed his eyes shut and groaned, cursing at himself inside. What were you thinking?
Another apology he needed to make—but as Uranus tried to push himself up to follow after Titania, his body didn’t respond to the mental signals, and instead he stayed frozen, staring at the pinprick stars in the distance, his eyes burning. Another thing you messed up, mate. Great. This is why things need to change. Why you need to change. And abruptly, a sudden desperation made him stand back up, his core gripped in the claws of anxiety as he turned, gliding towards Ju-X’s orbit, something in him seeking… comfort?
X was floating within his orbit, staring directly at the sun, his head cocked to the side—but as Uranus glided closer, he turned around, smiling wide, arms thrown wide a second later. “Uranus!” He called out. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”
“I’m ready,” Uranus said in response, his face gone cold. “To enact your plan. To change things.”
X’s smile grew, a satisfied look in his eyes. He almost looked as if he’d expected Uranus’s answer. “Are you?”
His words caught in his throat, the weight on his chest only growing; and so Uranus nodded, holding back a shudder. X strode forward, slowly, almost menacingly, throwing an arm around his shoulders a moment later. “Well then. I think it’s time that we speak to the Sun.” Their eyes met as X turned his head to the side, and Uranus almost wanted to melt into him, the black-hole pull of his eyes only increasing as the seconds passed. “Shall we, Uranus?”
“…Ready,” Uranus crept out, past the shards of anxiety in his chest, past the lump in his throat—and X grinned even wider, tugging them forward.
Uranus stilled the trembling of his hand at his side.
This was for the best. This would change things for the better. For everyone.
…Right?