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Life was an unbearable loop of pain.
Non-existence. Sudden existence. Formation, wake up, alone. All alone, plunged in darkness with no way of knowing what was up and what was down. Was this it? Was he the only one out here? Was…was there really nobody else?
No. There was. And Neptune met them–he met all of them! Uranus, Jupiter, Saturn, Sun, they were alive. They were the ones that meant he wasn't alone. They made life a little brighter, lifting the heavy weight crushing Neptune since he'd woken up and given him happiness.
He'd felt so light. So, so wonderfully light. Laughing and joking, just being able to exist with someone other than himself and the creepy asteroids that haunted his orbit, stars it made his life a bajillion times more better.
But, of course, naive little Neptune didn't know what was to come.
He didn't know that the warmth doesn't last forever.
He didn't know that soon, the darkness would reign over him once more.
Stupid, stupid Neptune.
So innocent and pure, taking what he had for granted. Believing that it will be like this forever, and he'll never have to go back to that horrible place ever again.
But guess what? Guess what happened?
He was wrong.
So, so unbelievably wrong.
A sudden, high-pitched whimper snapped Neptune out of his thoughts, ripping his attention back to the loop of pain circling in his core. His thoughts spun dizzyingly fast, waves of terror clenching his core tighter, harder, so much more intense than the last. The voice–the tiny, pained whine calling out for someone–
No. No, no, no, no, no.
His nails dug into his palms, the sting barely distracting the planet from the grief and anger and fear and everything ruthlessly attacking his mind. It all combined together, melding into one, unstoppable force of pain tormenting his entire being. Breaths hitched, his ears rang, the sound mixing with the tiny cries to rake down his ears.
Neptune covered his head, eyes, ears–anything to get it to go away. Stop it. Stop it please. He can't–it's–please. Please no. He can't do this. His babies–
His breaths caught in his throat, the panic and grief returning full force with a wet, pathetic-sounding sob. A hand–his own–slammed against his mouth, muffling the sound. Because he can't cry. He's not crying. Stop crying, Poseidon. Stop it. Pull yourself together.
The evil thoughts grew louder, more insistent, begging the teeth around his hand to bite down hard. Bite, bite until you punctured the atmosphere and blood bubbled up. Bite, hurt, stab until the too-much, too-loud, too-confusing, too-overwhelming feelings finally go away.
Punish yourself, because if no one else will, you should.
No–no what!? No no no he–he doesn't, uhm no. Stars above, no please he doesn't–
But you need to–
–he can't. That's bad and he's hurt himself–
But it'll feel good–
–and he doesn't want to do that! He doesn't!!! The…oh stars, he–he–
–just do it. Do it. Do it, do it, do it, and hide it just like how you hid the deaths of–
No. Stars above, no. The horror, fear, terror, raging through his mind choked his breaths, and yet nowhere was safe. Nowhere. Inside, outside, it was all dangerous and scary and terrified him to no end.
What does he do?
He can't stay here.
But he must–and where else would he go if it was his own mind that was the problem? He can't outrun it. He can't hide and hope and pray with all his might that it doesn't look for him.
It's a part of him.
…and maybe that was the thing that terrified him the most.
It's a part of him, so it must be true. It's a part of him, so it came from his own thoughts, his own actions, his own being. He came up with those ideas. All Neptune, all due to the vicious monster haunting the Kuiper Belt.
Hm, uhm okay. So he can't run. But he can't stay. He can't allow the–
GOUGE YOUR EYES OUT–
–the thoughts to win.
Simple thing. Simple action. Simple job to do. Just don't–
STAB YOURSELF WITH YOUR TRIDENT–
–listen to them. Don't–
NOBODY WILL CARE–
–don't follow through. Don't believe them. They're lying–
IT'S SO SIMPLE. SO FAST. SUCH AN EASY SOLUTION TO ALL YOUR PROBLEMS–
–it's not true! None–nothing! It's not a solution. Neptune doesn't want to do that! He doesn't want to die, he doesn't want to hurt himself–
You just want it to stop. It's too much. You can't handle the pressure–
…for once he agreed with the evil, warring thoughts. Yes. Yes, he can't handle this. Nobody could, if they were in his place. Nobody could go through this much death and loss and grief and everything, and come out unscathed.
…maybe someone who was stronger. Maybe someone smarter. Maybe someone more kind and caring, whose thoughts made sense and could detangle the real ones from the fake.
But not Neptune.
Never Neptune.
He's never enough.
Another small, pathetic whimper broke through the silence of the most distant orbit, but it didn't come from the unconscious toddler surrounded by debris. The planet kept it far away from him–as far as he could, without the guilt choking his breaths and plunging him back into the sticky mess of darkness–and this sounded closer.
It felt closer.
He could feel the rumble of it in hs throat.
The broken, pathetic pleads begging for mercy–for forgiveness. So the horror and grief and all the overwhelming emotions threatening to pull him apart would finally leave him be. It all came from him. The tiny, animalistic sounds, slipping from his lips and escaping into the night sky.
And then, then Neptune could finally rest, slipping into a blissful sleep free from the never-ending cycle of torture.
(It would get better. He would find that spark again. The grass would be greener, the sunlight would be warmer, everything would feel a little bit lighter.
But it would never last forever…)
Stars above, if it took begging at the feet of Sagittarius A* itself, he would do it. He–he would do anything to get just a moment of relief–
So stab yourself. Pass out from blood loss. Either you die, or the others finally pay attention to you. You'll get the help you need. You'll see their undying love.
You'll finally matter.
Hmm, no, how about he doesn't do that. It'll hurt a lot–
But you'll feel so much better afterwards–
–but it's bad! He can't undo that. He can't erase the stain it would leave on his life. And–and what if it goes horribly wrong–
But what if it doesn't…what if it's exactly what you need to feel better–
–no. No, he's–he's not listening to those thoughts. Maybe…maybe he would feel better but it's not worth the consequences. Just think of the consequences–the cost it will have on you.
Neptune isn't like that. He's not going to fall down that far. He…he's better than that. They're just thoughts. They can't hurt you. They're just thoughts, just thoughts, just thoughts–
That can convince you to do anything. You think you're safe behind those silly delusions? You think you can hide behind that flimsy little wall of lies? You think that'll stop–
–stars, he can't take this anymore. The thoughts, the feelings, this hate–he just can't.
But no. No he has to. He can't not do this. He can't give up. Not now. Not when it gets a little bit hard. He can't fold. He can't give into the thoughts and impulses. He's above them. He can do this.
He has to.
For…for the hurt little child currently stuck orbiting around him–
YOUR FAULT!!! IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!!! YOU CAN'T EVEN BOTHER TO CHECK IN ON THEM!!! YOU'RE JUST SELFISHLY WALLOWING IN YOUR OWN PAIN–
Okay then! That's enough thinking for today! His mind has decided to be evil, and people who are mean don't deserve to be listened to–
But it's still you. It's your own mind. You're the mean one, the evil one, the monster–
–hahahaha, yeah nope we're done. No more awakeness for today. He'll–he'll just go to sleep! Then it'll be okay and fine and he can't hurt himself in his sleep! (Can he? Can he sleep-walk and sleep-hurt himself? No, no he can't. He'll be fine!)
Maybe he's running from his feelings. Maybe he's not letting himself slow down and refusing to acknowledge anything that was happening.
Maybe he's hiding from the reality he's being forced to face.
But hiding away was better than the other choice he had at the moment.
And so, the sudden exhaustion took hold as the weeping whale's cries lessened, quieting down to the pathetic-sounding soft, wet hiccups that rocked his body. Tear-tracks ran down his cheeks like the distinct paths of rivers, drying when the rainy season came to an end. Despite the death grip the planet held on himself, pulling and yanking on his hair, clothes, surface–everything (stars he didn't even realize he was doing that)–the tension slowly unwound from his body with every deep, wavering breath.
And, with his hands stained with the blood of those who he'd brought to an end, the beast returned back to his slumber.
As ignorant and foolish as ever, drifting off into sleep with the hope (plead, beg, cry), that he would feel a little bit better when he awoke next.