Work Text:
It was strange to be in Uranus’s orbit.
Uranus’s orbit brought a shaky sense of clarity that he’d only felt before during the time when they’d had their orbits changed (and that time felt so far away and yet so close… and Neptune wanted those old times back more than anything else). It also made it hurt so much more when he finally realized the depths of X’s grip on Uranus (he wasn’t calling him Caelus. That wasn’t his name. His name was Uranus. Uranus.) and just how much he’d messed up.
It wasn’t… it wasn’t clear all the time. Sometimes he forgot—and the times he forgot what’d happened to Uranus were the worst, because then he went searching for him only to immediately be faced with the consequences of billions of years of actions.
Or was it the lack of action?
Neptune should’ve listened to Uranus. He should’ve paid more attention. He should’ve…
He bit down on his bottom lip and stared into the darkness for a moment before turning his attention to his moons. All sixteen of them were with him. All of them. He hesitated to let them get too far away, not after Galatea had almost been hit by asteroid that would have certainly killed her. Even now the memory gripped his core with icy fear, and Neptune tucked his jacket tighter, let his eyes run over all of them, counting them one by one.
All sixteen.
A thread of relief ran through him, immediately severed when he turned around and set his eyes on Uranus; he was bent over a canvas, and of course… X was right next to him. Neptune wasn’t usually angry, but X…
X made him angry. And disappointed. And sad, all in one. Because it didn’t need to turn out this way. There was… there were options that could have ended with everyone being happy. In some way.
But of course…
Some part of him wanted to find Uranus, to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, to ask him what he was thinking, to ask him if he’d gotten his revenge… but that part was easy to keep down when Neptune remembered the look in his eyes, the sharpness in his words, the tremble in his hands the moment he’d first yelled at him.
Even now, the words felt seared into his thoughts, a distant sound underneath it all.
I thought you were my friend.
He was. He still was. He always would be.
And he equally remembered the malicious glee in X’s eyes, the horrible grin on his face when he’d stopped him from following after Uranus. It was just as burned into his consciousness—and even if he lost everything else, Neptune knew he’d never lose the words X had hissed at him.
You did this, didn’t you?
And the next words, hissed even quieter as he watched Uranus’s retreating back and felt like he’d just stabbed himself in the core.
This is your fault. You’d only make it worse.
Neptune should have followed him anyway. He should’ve… he should’ve done so much more. He’d let X sink his claws in too deep… and now Uranus was paying the consequences. Uranus and everyone else.
Maybe they wouldn’t have been in this situation if he’d actually managed to do something. His smaller moons wouldn’t be so scared of getting hit by asteroids. Saturn… It hurt to think about Saturn. Because Neptune remembered how disorienting it was to be so far away from everyone, to be constantly and irrevocably alone. He remembered it, and he disliked it more than anything else—and he would’ve dealt with it for an infinite amount of time if it meant this never would have happened. If it meant the others would be okay.
If it meant Uranus would…
Neptune was dragged out of his thoughts when he realized that X was leaving Uranus’s orbit—and Uranus was staring after him, paintbrush drooping in his hand.
Had they argued?
A hard concern threaded around his core, and Neptune pushed to stand up, careful of his sleeping moons as he crept towards Uranus, every step feeling heavier and heavier. He immediately knew when Uranus noticed he was approaching—the stiffening of his posture was more than enough proof.
“Neptune,” Uranus said, quietly. “Mate.”
“Co—” Neptune cut himself off at Uranus’s tiny wince, his thoughts blasting Uranus’s own words back at him. I’m not your COUSIN! “Uranus!” Uranus just gave him a tired look. The bags under his eyes were exceedingly obvious, and Neptune barely kept his concern from surfacing on his face, instead making himself smile.
“Caelus, mate. It’s Caelus.”
Neptune tilted his head to the side and continued smiling at him despite everything within him wanting to ask Uranus to just see what was happening. To see what X had done to them all. “Uranus! Are you painting?”
“Caelus. And what’s it look like?” Uranus’s voice was underlaid with a current of annoyance… and Neptune still wasn’t quite used to it, his smile faltering just a bit before he reinforced it. “Of course I’m painting.”
“Painting what?” Neptune blinked at him. “The Solar System? I know you do that a lot.” I do pay attention to you.
“What else is there to paint?” Uranus rolled his eyes, and it felt like another wall slammed between them; but Neptune ignored how much it hurt and leaned in closer, staring at the canvas. Uranus froze, his hand stilling in his lap.
“It’s pretty!” Neptune gave Uranus another smile, patting his shoulder. Uranus leaned into the touch before jolting backwards, and Neptune retracted his hand, dropping it to his side. “Your paintings always are. I hope you know that.” Uranus’s expression spasmed, a tiny grief pulling over his face—and Neptune wanted to reach out and hug him, wanted to do something, anything to make everything right, but then it disappeared, and Uranus just stared at him impassively.
“Glad you noticed. Did you need something else?”
Neptune twisted his mouth to one side, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Are you okay?”
For a moment, his expression cracked again, and Neptune almost felt like he was staring at the Uranus he missed, the sheer depth of pain flickering across his face making Neptune feel like he’d been stabbed through the core. But it was swept away a moment later as Uranus shifted in place, staring at something past him. “I’m fine. I have everything I need.” Neptune couldn’t help glancing at Uranus’s moons, far enough away that it was clear they weren’t speaking to him; and then back at Uranus, whose shoulders had hiked up, his eyes narrowing.
He watched as Uranus’s hands clenched tight at his sides, and Neptune knew he’d messed up in some way.
Of course he had.
“Do you need something from me, mate? Or are you just here to bother me?” The acid in his words didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it still hurt, and Neptune finally let his smile falter completely. “You know what,” Uranus suddenly said, pushing to stand up. “I think X needs me. I’ll—”
Neptune reached out and caught Uranus’s sleeve in his grip. Something cracked deep inside of him, and finally he realized this wasn’t something he could pull Uranus out of. This wasn't something he could fix.
This wasn’t his fault. This wasn’t Uranus’s fault. This wasn’t even X’s fault.
At least… not alone.
“Uranus,” he heard himself say, feeling like he’d taken a step back from his own body, like he was watching himself talk to Uranus, like it wasn’t him. “I want to be there for you. You’re my family even if you don’t see it that way.” Uranus’s eyes widened, fractionally, his posture stiffening more. "I want to help you. But… not right now. Not until…” His voice cut off, but he could tell Uranus was listening at least a little, his eyes glittering.
His own eyes burned, and he did his best to ignore it, distantly feeling a weak smile pull at his lips.
“If you ever want to talk to me… I’ll be in my orbit. Your orbit.”
I want to help you.
“Just… think about it. Think about where this is all going. Where it’s going to lead you. And remember that I’m here for you... Uranus.” He let go of Uranus’s jacket, and somehow it felt like more than what it actually was. “Okay?”
Uranus stared—and stared.
He wasn’t talking, and so finally Neptune nodded and gathered his moons closer, hoping they’d heard none of that.
“I’ll… see you, Uranus. Stay safe. Please.”
And even as his eyes burned more, his breath turning shaky, Neptune turned his back on Uranus and headed straight back for his orbit.
Hopefully Uranus would listen.
Hopefully.
Neptune couldn’t help him if he didn’t help himself first.
Even as much as he wanted to.
As much as it hurt to leave him behind.