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Uranus—
No.
Caelus stared down at the painting in his hands for a single moment before he dematerialized it, his lips pressed hard together as he tried to push past the dread burying his core.
It would be fine. He would be fine.
He let out a jagged exhale and rubbed his hand at his lower arm, his sweater sleeves tugged up just above his elbows—plenty of revolutions finished, and he still wasn’t quite used to the marginally higher temperature in Saturn’s orbit. In his orbit. It was… on the edge of uncomfortable, but not quite.
He almost thought he deserved the fact that he hadn’t adjusted to it.
But Caelus pushed that thought out of his mind, lifting his head up to throw a glance at his moons; still sleeping, gathered around in his orbit. He opened and then closed his mouth, his shoulders slumping—even if they had been awake, they likely wouldn’t have talked to him. They’d all been tight-lipped for a while… which was far from fun.
Very far. Caelus clenched his hand at his side and felt the dread grow larger before he gave his head a violent shake, reaching up to tug harshly at his braid.
“—not my fault!”
Oh. X was fighting with one of the moons again.
Caelus rubbed one hand at his eyes and turned to see X staring down at one of his moons—Europa, probably—his face twisted into an angry expression. “You’re the one who’s constantly talking about watching them. Don’t pull me into this.”
“They’re your moons! We’re your moons! You’re the one who took us from Jupiter! Could you take responsibility over it?!”
Caelus drifted away from his orbit and towards X’s without putting much thought into the movement. Europa’s voice was barely audible, but loud enough that she was surely practically shrieking. X’s response was lost in a low mutter, and Caelus slid to a stop, his hands falling to clasp at his back. He sighed a moment later, realizing what must have happened.
X must’ve lost another moon.
He didn’t quite have Jupiter’s gravitational pull, and plenty of the smaller captured moons had already just… drifted away. To where?
Well… anywhere. The asteroid belt? The massive emptiness around them all? Caelus had tried to offer to take some of the moons, to help X; he’d just given him an empty look, his head tipped to the side, so Caelus had given up without much more fight.
X was practically all he had, now. No use in messing that up. Like he’d messed everything else up.
He dragged one hand down his face and then re-clasped his hands together, staring into the distance as he waited for X and Europa’s argument to draw to a stop—and it only did because Ganymede stepped forward, dragging Europa around as she continued yelling at X, practically hissing at him. X just stared down at her with a vaguely amused look, like her anger meant absolutely nothing to him (and maybe it did?), before he rolled his eyes and whipped around.
Caelus continued looking in that general direction, his hands squeezed tight—and then X spotted him, and his eyes lit up with something unreadable that nevertheless made Caelus relax just a tiny bit.
“Caelus!” The name made him stiffen right back up, his nails digging into his palms.
He’d wanted the new name. He’d done this half for the possibility of being called that name. So why…?
X threw his arms wide, grinning, steps slow and sure as he made his way towards him.
“What are you doing here?”
“I heard your fight, mate…” He trailed off, watching as X rolled his eyes again. “Everything alright?”
“Oh, everything’s just fine,” X replied, waving one dismissive hand—and then he was close enough to sling an arm around his shoulders, steering him away, and Caelus let him, an uncertain smile pulling across his lips. “Just another one of the moons getting out of orbit. It’s not my fault those four don’t keep a close eye on their lessers.”
“Right.” Caelus hid a grimace, tilting his head away.
“Caelus—” Another wince he barely held back. “—what have you been doing recently?”
“Oh, nothing interesting. Just… painting. Shooting asteroids. Staring at the stars.”
X laughed. “You’re right. That isn’t interesting.” Caelus’s smile wavered a bit more. “But that’s okay. I’m here now. I’ll make it interesting.”
He laughed, hiding his distress under a veneer of calm. “Yeah, mate.”
X stared at him out of the corner of his eye, a smirk sliding onto his lips as the seconds ticked by. “How are things in your new orbit, Caelus?”
“Oh, they’re…” Caelus twisted his mouth to one side. “Fine?”
“Just fine? Isn’t it so much better being closer to the Sun?” X turned them around, so they were staring at the bright ball of light that was the Sun, much brighter than Caelus was used to him looking. “Feeling the warmth against your skin…? Completing an orbit so much faster than before?” X turned him, pressing one hand against the line of his jaw—Caelus leaned into the touch, his senses awash with both warmth and cold somehow. “Isn’t your mind so much clearer?”
Caelus nodded without really registering it, his thoughts revolving around the almost-affectionate touch to his jaw.
X laughed again, leaning in closer, pressing their foreheads together. “And it’s all because we worked together, isn’t it? You and I deserve this.”
His mouth went dry, and Caelus swallowed hard, biting the inside of his cheek. “…Yes,” he finally managed to say, the word practically croaked, tearing from his throat like a physical, sharp object. He was met with X’s smirk growing, his eyes brightening, turning more blue than black; and then he stole a kiss, barely a brush of lips before he leaned back again.
Caelus leaned in to follow him for a brief moment before he realized what he was doing; and then, face aflame, he straightened up. X’s hand stayed against his jawline, thumb brushing back and forth underneath his eye. “You know, Caelus,” X said, staring at him, something true and affectionate in his eyes that Caelus yearned for more than anything else. “I’m glad I decided to speak to you. You’re the only one who deserves to be at my side.”
The dread in his core only wrapped tighter, constricting around him.
“Thank you,” he forced out, staring at the affection in his eyes, hoping it would push the dread away. Hoping it would… save him?
“It seems only I saw your worth.” X’s hand dropped away from him, leaving Caelus to shift uncertainly from side to side. “But hey! Now everything’s fallen into line, and you’ll never have to feel like that again!” He threw his arms wide again, grinning with a slow laugh. “Isn’t that great?”
Never have to feel like that again.
So why did he feel so much worse?
“Yeah. It’s… perfect.” He gave his head a harsh shake, suddenly feeling like he needed to get away. “Listen, I painted something, and I was going to take it to Saturn. I’ll see you later, mate?”
“Saturn?” The affection in X’s eyes dropped away completely, replaced by a cool, absent regard. “Why would you need to see him? He’s…”
“It’s just a painting, X,” Caelus offered, reaching out hesitantly to squeeze his shoulder. “I thought—”
“No,” X said, shrugging, stepping away from his hand. “Feel free. It’s not like I care.” He turned and glided away, towards his orbit, without another word, leaving Caelus to stand still in his orbit, his brow knit, the dread in his core only spinning faster. Bloody hell.
Why couldn ’t he just figure out what he wanted?
As Caelus passed through his old orbit, his core constricted even more, his shoulders hiking up as he resisted the urge to look around for Neptune.
It wasn’t like he’d want to talk to him, anyway.
The last time Caelus had managed to talk to Neptune, he’d just oozed disappointment in a way that struck him right to the core. He’d already seemed more stable than before (not quite like he’d been in Jupiter’s orbit the one time they’d switched orbits before, still a bit off, but better than Uranus had seen him in ages), his eyes clearer, his words stronger.
He’d told him that he was there for him, but not in that moment. Had told him that if he ever managed to come to his senses, he’d be there. Had called him Uranus the entire time. Had left with his moons all around him, attached to him in a way Caelus knew his own moons would likely never be. Not anymore.
…It burned even now, and Caelus pinned his arms tighter against his chest, let the cold wrap around him like the facsimile of a hug, let his thoughts drift away from him as he headed straight for the farthest reaches of the Solar System. He knew he’d found Saturn the moment a sudden gravitational pull overtook him, and he was yanked forward, stumbling in his step for a moment before righting himself. It was easier to resist now that he knew what was coming, but still—
“Saturn,” he said, exasperated. “Your gravity.”
“Ohhh,” Saturn said; when Caelus turned, he was beaming wide, one hand over his mouth, his eyes fever-bright. “I’m sorry, Uranus. I forget.” He laughed, the sound joyous, settling around his core and pushing away some of the dread that’d piled up. He didn’t even mention that Saturn had called him Uranus, just let a tiny smile pull at his lips. “I’ve missed you! Where’d you go?”
Saturn jolted forward and closed him in a tight hug, and C—Uranus relaxed into it, tucking his chin against Saturn’s shoulder.
“Oh, around,” he said, quietly. “I wanted to visit.”
“Perfect!” Saturn clapped, pulling back from him. Uranus fought the urge to lean in and hug him again, to never let go. “Perfect.” He started fidgeting with one of his rings, his smile faltering; Uranus kept his gaze trained on Saturn’s face despite the innate urge to look up. “I think I completed another orbit,” he finally said, tapping one finger at his lips. “I think? I’m not entirely sure any more.”
He frowned absently. “And I seem to have lost my moons. They’re just never where I want them to be!”
Uranus tipped his head to the side, his smile faltering. “I’m sure they’re around here somewhere. You know… moons. They like to hide.”
Saturn laughed, one hand pressed over his mouth. “They sure do. I’ll find them eventually.”
His eyes burned.
Why was he doing this to himself? This happened every time he visited Saturn.
“Neptune came by the other day! Or maybe year. Or maybe longer?” Saturn clicked his tongue. “I’m never sure.”
You’re not sure about anything now.
“And I swear I saw Jupiter the other day. But probably not.” For the first time, Saturn’s joy dissolved completely, his eyes darting to the side, towards the Kuiper Belt in the near distance, a look of not-quite clarity in his eyes. “He’s not supposed to be here…”
Uranus squeezed his eyes shut and then forced them open. “I’m sure it was nothing, mate. Just a trick of the eyes.”
“They do that a lot, now,” Saturn replied, his voice still absent. “I don’t think I like it.”
Nobody would.
He couldn’t stand the look in Saturn’s eyes, so finally Uranus reached out and squeezed one hand at his shoulder. “Well, mate, I didn’t actually just come here to visit. I wanted to give you a gift.”
Saturn lit up. “A gift? For me?”
Uranus couldn’t help a tiny laugh. “Yes. For you.” He materialized the painting he’d finished earlier in one hand, holding it carefully as he tilted it towards Saturn, hoping it’d catch enough light for him to see. “It’s you. And all of your moons.”
Saturn pressed one hand to his cheek, his lips pressed together, his eyes bright. “That is so sweet.”
He reached out, pulling the painting from his hands—but he only studied it for a moment before letting it aside, leaning forward, and gathering him into another hug. “You seem sad, Uranus. Is everything okay?”
“I—” The words caught in his throat. No.
But he didn’t respond, just buried his face into Saturn’s chest and registered the cold wrongness of it. I’m sorry, he mouthed, the words caught in a web of untruth and regret. And it was that more than anything that made him finally pull away from Saturn, and he paced several steps backward, ignoring the yearning that joined the guilt and dread already spilling through his core. “Thank you, mate,” he made himself say. “But I’m fine. I promise.”
Saturn studied him; and then he nodded, smiling. “If you say so.”
He grabbed the painting again, staring down at it, something in his expression tightening—and Uranus took that as his cue to leave. “I’ve got to go, Saturn. But… I’ll try to come back soon.” He hesitated. “I promise,” he lied.
“Alright, Uranus.” Saturn shot him a look, his eyes still bright. “Stay safe.”
Uranus just nodded in response, turning around, feeling like a weight had been laid across his shoulders.
“Oh, Uranus?” Saturn’s voice stopped him in his tracks, and Uranus turned halfway, staring directly at his downcast expression, his focus on the painting. His eyes had lost their brightness. “Have you seen Titan around? I can’t find him.” Shock tore right through him, and Uranus swallowed hard, one hand clenching so hard his nails dug into his palm. “Usually he’s right around me, but I keep losing track of him.” Saturn finally looked up, frowning hard. “I’m worried.”
The brief thought ran through his mind—tell him—but then Uranus remembered the joy in his eyes, and something in him cracked at the idea of ruining that. “Oh, mate, you don’t remember?” he finally said, the words like ash in his mouth. “He’s talking to… to the other moons. They have their little moon club thing.”
“Oh!” Saturn blinked; and then he smiled again, and the expression only made Uranus feel worse. “Make sure you tell him to return soon, then. Tell all of them. Or I’ll have to come get them!”
“I… I will, mate. I promise.”
Uranus finally looked up, letting himself take in the sight he’d been hopelessly ignoring this whole time—the rings around Saturn’s head, dimmer than before, much more diffused, spread out… and obviously bigger.
Saturn never looked up anymore.
“Thank you, Uranus.” Saturn beamed at him, eyes crinkling in the corners. “You should probably get back to your orbit. Don’t want the Sun to get angry, right?”
“Right.” Uranus forced the word out. “I’ll do that, mate. I’ll see you later.”
“I’ll see you when I see you!” Saturn turned his attention to the painting—and then dematerialized it just as Uranus turned around, and he knew it’d already joined the hundreds of other paintings he’d given Saturn. Forgotten. Uranus squeezed his eyes shut and ignored the tear that slipped down his cheek. It was fine. Saturn would adjust eventually. He had to, right?
You’re lying to yourself.
Well, lying to himself was better than facing the truth.
It always would be. Caelus knew that better than anything.
He was fully settled into his own orbit—his moons ignoring him as always—when X finally reappeared.
“Did you get what you wanted?”
Caelus wet his dry lips, staring forward, ignoring X’s smug expression as he stood in front of him, arms crossed over his chest. Did he get what he wanted? What did he even want?
Caelus wasn’t sure. What he did know was that there was only one answer for X. “No.”
X shook his head. “You never will.”
“I know,” Caelus replied, the words cracked. “I know.”
His fingers twitched with the urge to reach out, to ask for some measure of—touch? Affection? Anything? X just tipped his head to one side, his smile growing; and then he dropped down next to him, and Caelus immediately let himself fall, leaning against his side, his core constricting tight.
“Don’t worry,” he said after a moment. “As long as I’m here, you’ve got me.”
He felt an… almost delicate kiss against his forehead, squeezed his eyes shut. “After all. We won, didn’t we?”
“We did,” he replied, the words bitter. “We did.”
It didn’t feel like a win.