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It really had been a good day.
Earth was just… well. ‘Sad’ didn’t seem like the right term, nor did 'particularly upset' or 'agitated.' He’d just been— gah, it was hard for him to put it into words, despite the millions of terms and phrases created by his Earthlings. Feelings had always been difficult, challenging, annoying to deal with—
—Or maybe that was just him; Earth didn’t really know. His feelings were usually out of whack: happy and talkative one moment, drowning in misery and wanting to do nothing but cry the next. It had been like that for forever, his conflicting feelings, fighting against himself and tearing himself apart from the inside out. He hadn’t understood it for the longest time, the feeling of being two halves yet never quite feeling himself in full.
Then he heard about Proto and Theia, and suddenly, it made a lot more sense. He was literally the fusion of two other planets, and while it didn’t explain everything, it sure did explain a lot.
It didn’t, however, excuse why he felt like he was being torn from the inside out, despair so heavy on his heart that really, it was a miracle he lasted so long before excusing himself to his designated bedroom while the rest enjoyed a movie night, a moment of relaxation on his surface.
Earth held back a choking sob as the razor dug into his thigh, blood beading up as he dragged the blade across his burning flesh. Several other lines had already been made, crossing over each other in neat patchwork rows, which in and of itself crossed over scarring from many times before. It was almost difficult to see where cut and scar began—Earth never really let the scars fade, especially on days like these, when being the world felt like too much and he couldn’t hold it all in.
(He had tried holding it all in, far past his limits. That’s when he snapped at Titan. When he was left, forgotten by the planets he cared for most. When the Sun begged Earth to stop as the planet pushed himself forward, heat slowly rising as he tried to reach for the surface of the Sun—
It was almost ironic. Proto and The had died by crashing into each other, and the Earth tried to die by attempting to crash into the Sun.)
Yeah. This was much better than holding it all in.
Though it wasn’t all that great of a solution, he knew. Earth had watched the lives of many of his earthlings time and time again—he knew everything that happened on his surface, good and bad. He always felt a sense of crushing defeat every time one of his own took their own lives, bodies becoming one with Earth as they were either buried or their ashes were spread. It always hurt—why would they want to die? Was his surface not good enough? Was he not good enough? No, of course he wasn’t good enough—his life had tried to terraform Mars, his best friend, to get away from him. To not fix what they’d broken, but instead replace him with a planet that was unlikely to ever hold life on his own.
Earth would never be good enough. Not for his life, not for his friends, not for anybody.
Mercury and Luna had a faint idea of his self-harming tendencies, but Earth was relatively sure they didn’t know truly how bad it was. He was sure they’d be disappointed if they knew, if they caught him in the act. Both had tried talking to him about it before and had both sat him down a bit after his… attempt to try and get him to open up. And, in all technicality, Earth had done so—he just didn’t say how often, how deep, or how he had to hold off on shoving the razor into arteries just so it would hurt more. Mercury and Luna had both made him promise that if he ever felt the urge, ever felt the need to pick up the blade again, he would come to them, and they would help. Or to go to any other planet; if not them, the two just didn’t want Earth to ever hurt himself.
Earth, like the horrible being he was, had agreed. He swore to never dare touch the razor again and not hesitate to go to one of his friends if he ever felt the urge.
The lie felt sour on his tongue. A sour taste that transitioned to a burning on his thigh as he dragged the razor over already deep cuts, silently begging for them to hurt more. The sharp sting wasn’t enough; it would never be enough—he needed it to hurt for days, a constant reminder of his failure.
The rest of the planets were tucked in the living room, gathered on two large couches and a beanbag as they watched Star Wars for what had to be the millionth time. Normally, Earth would join them, being the loudest of them all as he quoted lines and reenacted fight scenes with Luna. It was always a good time: throwing popcorn at the screen, laughing at Jupiter’s complaints about the inaccuracy, eventually tucking Luna in his arms, and dozing off.
But not tonight. He had excused himself, saying he was tired—which, to be fair, he really had been tired beforehand—dragging himself to his bedroom and shutting the door behind him under the guise of lying down and reading. He hadn’t even bothered picking up a book, instead making a beeline for his top dresser drawer, pushing away the stack of papers to reveal the razor underneath.
His thigh stung, a pain Earth had grown accustomed to over time. He was always in pain, usually—he loved his earthlings, finding no greater pride than keeping them alive, but they were just as self-destructive as their home planet. When they weren’t killing each other or themselves, they were killing him in turn—constantly digging into his surface, ruining his water and animals with pollution, ruining his atmosphere with radiation, and becoming the cause of global warming. There was a good chance that no sort of astronomical occurrence would lead to the death of his life; no, they would die far before then, whether that be through each other or themselves.
Earth hoped that at the very least, their deaths would be peaceful and painless. A fate that he himself knew he would never get in turn.
The blood steadily flowing from his thigh began dripping on the hardwood floor, being smeared away by Earth's black basketball shorts, which had been shoved off in a hurry and thrown to the side. It was a sad sight, Earth could imagine, him, the ‘great’ Earth, pressed against the side of his bed with his thigh seeping blood, in nothing but his boxers and a shirt far too large for him. Yet Earth didn’t hardly care; it was almost an automatic motion, bringing the razor down over and over, red slowly filling his vision—
—before freezing, his heart falling to his chest when the door to his bedroom creaked open.
“Hey man, you should come join us,” Mars hummed, grinning as he pushed open the door. “Venus and Mercury are about to start brawling over which robot is—“
Mar froze.
Earth knew what it looked like. He sat on the ground, eyes wild and razor still mid-cut, blood seeming more like a curse than the retribution it seemed to offer not a moment before. There had to be an excuse, some way out of this, some way to convince Mars that Earth wasn’t crazy—
—But then Earth saw the horror cross Mars’ face, and all hopes of getting away with anything were long forgotten. It was exactly what it looked like.
“…Earth?” Mars took a hesitant step into the bedroom, eyes not daring to leave Earth—or rather, Earth's thigh. “Man, what’re you—hey, hey, it’s okay—!”
Earth hadn’t realized he’d started crying, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as he tried to hold any noise in. He quickly failed, however, when Mars rushed to crouch next to him, gentle hands finding Earth's cheeks and gently stroking away the tears before coming down to Earth’s sides. Earth was gently tugged against Mars’ chest, head cradled against his best friend's shoulder as he began to sob, wrapping his arms around Mars’ torso and pressing his face into the side of his neck. Mars didn’t complain; he stroked Earth’s soft blue hair, face pressed into Earth's head as he let his best friend cry.
It was a long time before Earth pulled away, eyes rimmed red and cheeks flushed, still sniffling with teats rolling down his face. It was only then that Earth really, really looked at Mars’ face, looking for sadness, anger, anything…
…and was only met with compassion.
“We should… clean you up,” Mars murmured, as if speaking too loudly would startle him. His voice was carefully neutral, soft in a way Earth couldn’t quite recognize. Yet Earth could see the tears brimming Mars’ eyes, and it hurt knowing that they were because of him. “They’re—you're still bleeding, that’s… not good.”
Earth gave a shaky nod, not trusting his voice. It was silent for a long moment.
“…Do you want me to help you to the bathroom, or—?”
Earth gave a slight nod.
Gentle arms slid under Earth's knees and the middle of his back, that being all the warning Earth got before he was lifted, pressed against Mars’ chest once more with his head resting on his shoulder. Earth’s arms came to wrap around Mars’ neck as the planet carried him out of his bedroom and into the dimly lit hall, taking a turn left. The two passed several doors, the currently empty bedrooms of the other planets, before they finally reached the bathroom at the end of the hall.
The bathroom itself was nice enough, big enough to compensate for the number of people visiting there. Mars set Earth on the empty countertop next to a sink, careful when moving around Earth's thigh. Mars was slow and deliberate, showing Earth exactly what he was doing—grabbing a hand towel and wetting it with warm water before carefully pressing it against the seeping cuts.
Despite the gentle treatment, Earth still hissed in pain regardless, silently cursing himself a moment later when Mars yanked the towel away from his thigh. “Did that hurt? Damn it, I’m so—“
“I’m sorry,” Earth interrupted. Anything to not hear those same two words from Mars. Mars did nothing wrong—it was Earth that had made the mistake. Earth, who hadn’t even thought about locking his door, was so used to leaving it wide open in case Luna needed him. Earth, who was so stupid and too dumb to consider going to the others for help.
“It’s—I'm sorry, Mars.” Earth could feel his lip trembling, similar to a toddler about to have a fit. That’s what he felt like at the moment—a big baby who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I wasn’t—you shouldn’t have to—“
Careful hands found Earth's cheeks once more, carefully directing Earth’s gaze up to Mars’ own. His expression was nothing but gentle as he stroked away the tears Earth hadn’t bothered fighting against.
“Dude, it’s okay,” Mars breathed before hesitating for a moment. “Er— It’s not 'okay,' but… it’s not on you.”
Earth paused. “Huh?”
Mars was silent for a long moment, a clear inner conflict being fought within himself before he sighed, shaking his head. “It’s going to be okay, Earth." He murmured, letting go of Earth’s cheeks to grab the towel once more, being much slower as he pressed it against Earth’s cuts. “Don’t worry about a thing, man. I’ve got everything covered.”
Silence fell over the two, with Mars gently wiping away the blood that had escaped while Earth debated what his friend could possibly mean by his words. It felt like an eternity passed like that, with Mars carefully tending to Earth, Earth himself too tired to bother fighting against the gentle treatment. The sharp, white-hot sting of his cuts had dulled to an angry ache, gnawing at his side as Mars tugged the warm cloth away, setting it on the edge of the sink. Earth watched as Mars crouched down, opening the cupboard underneath him and shuffling around in it for a moment before pulling out a box of bandages.
If possible, Mars was more gentle as he pressed one of the larger bandages to the cuts, frowning when it barely covered a third of the area before pulling it away. He fumbled around in the box for another long moment, coming out victorious with a thick roll of gauze in his hand. The roll was set aside, quickly joined by a pair of scissors and a large, thick roll of non-adherent padding.
Dressing Earth's thigh only took a moment, with Mars carefully pressing a large chunk of padding to his cuts before beginning to wrap the gauze around it, ensuring that any blood still leaking out would be absorbed and not bleed through. Earth fought back any pained noises threatening to drag itself out of his throat, keeping a death grip on the edge of the countertop. The cuts still ached; Earth doubted they would stop any time soon, but looking at the gauze covering it…
…it made Earth feel better, if only just a bit.
Silence reigned over the two, Mars gently securing the gauze with Earth watching, jaw tight.
“…Earth.” Mars glanced up at him, hand hovering over his thigh. “Does anybody else know?”
Earth was silent for a long moment. “…Luna does,” he quietly admits, "and Mercury, too. But…" Earth glanced away from Mars. “They don’t—I don’t usually…. Tell people. About the… cutting. How bad it’s gotten, at least.”
Mars gave a slight nod. “…Do you want me to get them?”
Earth shook his head nearly immediately. “…I don’t want to be alone right now.”
Which was selfish of Earth to want, really. Earth couldn’t imagine that Mars wanted to even see him, let alone talk to him. Earth would be pretty upset at himself if he were in Mars’ shoes.
But despite the selfish request, Mars didn’t look at all bothered. If anything, he looked relieved as he tucked his arms under Earth's knees and the small of his back, dragging the planet back into his arms. “I’ll tell them later.”
Earth made no attempt to argue against the gentle care, instead allowing him to rest his head against Mars’ chest as he exited the bathroom and began shuffling down the hall.
It was only whenever Mars and Earth reached his door, Mars pushing the door closed behind them before he spoke. “…I hope you know you can come to me about stuff like… that.”
Earth stared. “Mars, I—“
“No, Earth,” Mars shook his head, carefully lowering Earth to the bed as he did so. His voice was carefully controlled as he spoke. “I need you to know that, okay? You can’t—I wouldn’t be able to live with myself, knowing that you didn’t feel safe enough to come to me.”
Earth was quiet for a long moment. “…Mars, I—you guys were having such a good time…”
Earth could see the heartbreak flash across Mars’ face. “Man, I don’t care how much fun we’re having. If you even begin to think about—about more than just cutting, if you start feeling sad or like it’s too much—“
Mars paused for a moment, taking a long, dragging deep breath. “…I want you to go to someone. It doesn’t—I don’t care who it is, just—anything but this, please.”
Earth had made a promise like that before. A promise to a planet and a moon, both of which he trusted. Yet making that promise had felt like a lie and had burned in the back of his throat and threatened to claw its way through his chest.
Yet there was no feeling similar to that in that moment. No, Earth only felt a deep, looming sadness, a grief for putting his best friend through this.
“I swear, Mars,” Earth whispered, yet it sounded like a scream in his dull, quiet room. “I’ll never pick up the razor again.”