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Sol closed the door behind him and was successful in locking it after four tries, cursing the earthling metal “keys” until it turned with a series of satisfying clicks. He still didn’t understand the need to lock houses, no matter how many times it had been explained to him.
He sighed internally, kicked off his shoes (another invention he didn’t see the need for. They evolved perfectly good feet for a reason,) and left them on the shoe rack, making his way through the living room before pausing.
A couple of what Earth had called “takeout” containers laid scattered across the table, and a show of some kind played the same laugh track intermittently in the background, casting the room in a dim, shifting light.
Luna and Earth were passed out on the couch. Apparently whatever they were watching wasn’t interesting enough for them to stay awake. The planet was splayed on top of his moon, limbs spread in several awkward positions and was crushing his poor moon into the pillows.
The star bent down slightly to check— yes, okay. Luna was still breathing, and was not suffocating under the entire planet’s weight. Somehow.
Their position did not look comfortable at all— the star still was slightly concerned about how much air Luna was actually getting into his lungs— but he was reluctant to wake them.
Sol crept around, turning the screen off. He grabbed a blanket from the back of a chair and quietly threw it over the two celestials, taking a moment to adjust Earth’s head so he wouldn’t have a crick in his neck when he woke up. Luna stirred slightly, but stayed firmly asleep.
Good. They needed their rest. Especially Earth, he’s spent too much energy trying to get us all down here.
Sol wasn’t tired. Well, no, that wasn’t true. He was exhausted. But he knew he wasn’t going to be getting much sleep anyway. He snuck into the garden as quietly as possible and slid the door shut behind him with a soft ‘click’.
The sky had been roofed by clouds the past few nights, but as Sol looked up, a familiar splattering of lights greeted him. The sky looked different than it did from his orbit. It probably had something to do with the light pollution Earth had offhandedly mentioned.
Still, Stars. Endless amounts of stars, winking unsteadily as the light passed through the planet's atmosphere. Visible, bright and clear even with the slight haze of light pollution.
Unreachable, as always.
Just like his planets. They were somewhere in that dark space between stars too, now.
Which direction? Sol turned in a slow circle, neck straining from the angle. He could be staring right at them and it would be impossible to know.
They used to be afraid of the dark. Not anymore, because they’d run straight into the void without even glancing back at the star. Because he was scarier than the abyss.
(Sol hadn’t recognised himself in the end. Out of control and angry. So angry.
…He would’ve ran away too.)
Maybe all stars were destined to become destructive and hurt all their satellites. Maybe it was in his nature, and the Sun had only delayed it the inevitable. Because all stars are destructive monsters. I’m foolish to think I could’ve been different.
A small sound. A dull ‘tap, tap, tap’ on glass coming from behind him.
Sol turned. Astrodude waved at him from behind the closed door, offering him a sheepish smile. He slid it open softly, sticking his head out. “Hey. Can I join you?”
The star grunted non-committally. He won’t leave me alone if I say no. Which was humiliating. He was a star. The only star for lightyears around. He should tell the human to leave him be. Sol didn’t need company.
He didn’t say anything else as Astrodude came to sit in a nearby chair. It was rather unnerving to have the earthling so close in size to him. Sol was still a good head or so taller, but he was used to being millions of times his size. It feels… wrong, to say the least.
Astrodude huffed, pulling some fabrics closer to his skin. “It’s a bit cold tonight.”
It probably was. Sol could see condensation whenever he breathed out, but for some reason shifts in temperature never bothered him. Maybe it was because his true form was still endlessly burning, out of sight on the other side of the planet. Just to be annoying, he replied, “Not really.”
“Well, it’s cold for me.” Astrodude didn’t rise to his half-hearted bait. Shame. The human offered him a mug filled with a liquid that was steaming. “Tea? It’s cinnamon."
Sol took the mug but didn’t drink, watching the steam rise into the air. He tried to avoid ingesting anything while he was down here. The warmth from the ceramic still felt pleasant, however.
The human didn’t say anything, just stood at his side and sipped the warm liquid, swaying slightly. Sol eyed him suspiciously out of his peripheral. What does he want?
They’d already spent the last two Earth months “working on self improvement”, something that involved much too much talking for the stars liking. And a lot about listening, and waiting before reacting which was exhausting and gave him a headache.
It felt pointless. But Luna and Earth are talking to me… kind of. It’s something. The only reason they hadn’t left with the others was because Earth physically couldn’t.
So even if it felt like what little control and dignity and status he had left was being ripped away from under him, he went through with it. Because I want to be better. I don’t know if I can be, I don’t know how to be anything else. But I want to try.
After two months, Astrodude was called back to his planet. Something, something, contract his ‘boss’, something something. Sol didn’t pay too much attention to the details. He wasn’t even sure what a ‘boss’ was. But Earth had felt bad about keeping Astrodude away from his family, told him to come back. They’d figure out a different method.
Which was what had lead to their current situation. Trapped in human bodies on the planet’s surface. Sol wasn’t even able to shoot solarflares like this.
Maybe that’s the reason Earth insisted on this. To muzzle me, so I can’t hurt anyone. Like when the rest of the planets had combined their mass to crush him.
At least down he couldn’t see how empty his system was.
A soft noise echoed. Astrodude perked up, turning towards it. “Oh, wow. Did you hear that?” He seemed strangely excited. The noise came again and Astrodude raised his eyebrows. “That’s an owl.”
Sol glanced into the darkness. “Is it dangerous?"
“Uh.. not unless you’re a mouse?”
“That’s disappointing.”
“I can’t remember the last time I heard one. Not that I expected to come across an owl in space, but you know. My wife loves owls. I’ll tell her about this when she gets back. She’ll love it.” Astrodude rambled, ignoring him. Can’t even command respect from this organic. What kind of star am I?
The rambling reminded him of Earth, who was always ready to dump information about his Life. It was a little endearing. Not that I’ll admit that.
“You know,” Astrodude began after sipping from the mug. “When we had Junior, we were a mess. We had no idea what we were doing. But… my parents helped a lot. Babysitting, and stuff.”
The turn of phrase made the star furrow his brow. “Why would you sit on a baby?” Sol asked, confused. “I thought only those birds did that.”
“Uh… no, not like that. They’d look after Junior when we were busy, or so we could have a break.” He tapped on his mug. “I think I’d have lost my mind if we needed to do it alone. Neither of us slept for weeks.”
That didn’t sound that bad. Sol remembered staying awake for decades when Jupiter and Saturn were young (although decades as a concept didn’t really exist back then. It was just easier now to use the Earthling measurements for time.) “How often do you guys sleep normally?”
“Uhh… daily. Or, nightly, rather.”
“Well that’s inefficient. How do you ever get anything done?”
“That’s not really the point—“
“There’s a point?”
“Sun.”
Ah, right. He was supposed to be working on his ‘listening skills’. The star crossed his arms and tilted his head, pressing his lips together.
“When…” Astrodude started, then seemed to rethink, shaking his head. “Did you have any help? With taking care of the planets?”
Oh. Was that why he came outside? It was a stupid question. Sol shifted his weight, shrugging. “Nope!”
A silence. “Really? No one?”
“Nope.” Who would Sol have gotten help from?
“Not from other stars?” Sol stiffened, hands clenching. Astrodude kept talking, unaware. “I mean, Alpha Centauri isn’t that—“
“No.”
He hadn’t recognised the voice for a second. But based on how his throat suddenly ached, it came from him.
It startled both of them. Astrodude had taken a step back, mug held protectively in front of his chest and eyes wide. Something in Sol twisted, gratified to have caused fear. The small blossom of satisfaction was quickly suffocated by guilt.
Sol shook his head, his hair falling into his face. “No.” He repeated. Small pinpricks of pain told him he’d been clenching his hands. He forced himself to relax them. “The other stars were never an option.”
The owl made noise again, from a different tree this time. Out of his peripheral, Sol watched Astrodude untense and settle back down.
“… Can I ask why?”
Are you serious? Sol wanted to scream. Instead he plastered a large grin on his face and chirped. “Nope!”
He turned away, looking back at the sky, waiting for the human to either do the same and stand in silence, or go back into the house and end this conversation.
Unfortunately, he chose the former. They stood in silence for what felt like millions of years. Then, softly and under his breath, Astrodude mumbled something that sounded a lot like, That seems lonely.
Sol probably wasn’t meant to hear that. He pretended he didn’t.
After a while of neither of them saying anything, the star was debating surrendering and going back into the house. Maybe to wake up Earth and demand to be sent back to his usual form. Ask. Ask to be returned to my usual form. Demands are how you got here.
“I loved looking at the stars as a kid.” Astrodude broke the silence. He craned his neck back and Sol resisted the urge to scream. Why is he still talking about stars!? “My son likes stargazing too.”
“So did Jupiter.” The words came out before he could stop them. He wrapped his arms around his middle and turned his face away, anger rising as his eyes suddenly burned.
“Oh,” Astrodude remarked lightly. “Do you guys have uh… childhoods?”
“In a way.” Sol took a deep breath. “It’s not an exact one-to-one. I was a protostar at some point. And everyone started out as proto-planets.”
“What were the planets like? You know, as kids?”
Bright. Curious. Playful. Alive. Jupiter would make up constellations and run around laughing. Saturn would try and get him to dance. Uranus and Neptune were inseparable. Venus got into all sorts of scraps. Theia asked questions. Mars and Proto played asteroid dodgeball. Mercury napped a lot. Proto liked to sing.
There used to be so much life around the star.
… they’re all gone.
Sol shook his head and sighed heavily. “Astrodude, why are you doing this?”
Astrodude raised his hands placatingly. “I’m not doing anything. Just drinking tea and talking.”
“Yes, you are. You came out here to talk to me for a reason.”
“I thought you might like some company?”
Sol stared at him, unimpressed. Astrodude met his gaze steadily, before looking down. Tap, tap, tapping on his mug. “I— I guess I’m trying to figure you out. I don’t understand why you did all that stuff with the orbits.”
Oh. This.
They’d been over this already. Hundreds of times over this, or at least it felt like it. Talking in circles with Earth and Luna until they all were out of breath and frustrated.
“The orbits are what kept them safe,” Sol parroted himself from all the other times he’s had this conversation. “It kept them out of trouble and revolutions. It’s how I knew they were safe.”
“Yeah,” Astrodude nodded. He was fully facing the star and narrowing his eyes. Sol got the feeling he was being studied. “I get that part. To a degree, but… all the orbit games? Messing around with the like that? Sun, that was dangerous.”
“It was supposed to be a lesson.” Sol pressed his palms to his eyes, swallowing hard against a rising heat in his throat. “They needed to learn. That’s all.”
“Why?” Astrodude pressed. “Why did they need to learn?”
“Because— because they needed to understand—“
“Why did you need to keep pushing them even after whatever you were doing clearly wasn’t working? What could the possibly—“
“Because they kept dying.” The Sun looked up and Astrodude was stunned by the wet sheen in his eyes. “They kept dying. I thought that maybe, if the rocky planets survived long enough to wake up I wouldn’t have to worry, but then it happened again.”
Shattered rock and magma. Broken bodies. Blinding light as two large bodies crashed—
Over and over and over again. The utter helplessness as more planets died on his watch and he was powerless.
(Would a better star have been able to keep his planets alive? If he had been stronger, brighter, hotter, would more of them have opened their eyes?)
“It happened again. I couldn’t stop it. I can never stop it.” He kicked a chair. It skittered across rock loudly. Sol laughed nervously, his hands finding their way to his hair and yanking. “I’m the biggest and brightest object and I can’t even keep my planets alive.”
“I have had to see so many—“ his voice broke in two. “It kept happening. I can’t. I couldn’t do it again. But they kept leaving their orbits! And getting lost in the Kuiper Belt, getting into stupid, dangerous situations.
“They kept leaving me. And now—“ he laughed wetly and waved at the starry sky, “—they’re in the darkness, and I don’t know if they’re hurt or scared and this stupid body is so leaky.” Sun finished his tirade by attempting to wipe his eyes free of tears. “I hate this.”
“Sun—“
“And I know it’s my fault. Alright?” He raised his voice. “Is that what you want to hear? I know. I couldn’t keep them alive, I couldn’t keep them safe, I drove them all away and— and— it is my fault. It’s my fault— I—
“I never asked to be a star.”
Silence fell again. Sol gasped for his breath. His cheeks felt warm and wet, and his organic body felt hot and shaky. He couldn’t decipher Astrodude’s expression through his blurry vision, and he didn’t want to.
Pacing, hugging his abdomen until he felt marginally more put together. The lights in the sky twinkled daintily. Sol wanted to break something.
His voice cracked when he tried speaking again. “… I want them to come back. I— I don’t want to be alone.”
Footsteps behind him. Astrodude sighed, stayed quiet for a moment. “That’s up to them. You… you really hurt them.” I’m aware. “If they want to try again with a relationship, it’s on their terms. But… you have to show them you’re putting the effort in.”
If I’m putting the effort in, shouldn't they come back anyway? He selfishly wanted to ask. Sun rubbed his forehead, whispering “I-I’m trying.”
He felt like he’d been trying all his life, and nothing ever worked. All his efforts, and he’d ended up with a mound of grief pressing on his shattered core.
(… my planets didn’t even look back.)
He was angry all the time and so, so tired of being angry.
“It’s really hard.” Sol mumbled.
“Trying?”
Sol nodded. “I’ve always tried.” Keeping planets alive, keeping his system stable, maintaining Life, don’t be destructive, stop being so angry. And look how badly I’ve failed. “I never stopped trying. But nothing ever seems to work.”
“Well, that’s why we’re doing all this, right? Because you want to change?”
The star sighed, closed his eyes. Was it possible to change so much? Billions of years had turned him into this destructive star despite how much he’d strived to be the opposite. Still, if there was even a chance… “Yeah. Yeah. I want to be better.”
“That’s good.”
Neither of them said anything else. Sol wiped his face with his sleeves, thankful for the darkness for once.
He was surprised he wasn’t more embarrassed by his breakdown. He probably would be in the morning, when the follow up conversations. For now, he just felt numb. And a little light.
Sol turned to Astrodude, nodded, and they turned to head back inside.
The human opened the door, and Sol immediately heard a scramble of footsteps. Eyebrows scrunched, he walked in and saw Earth and Luna violently washing dishes in the kitchen sink. Both of them refused to meet his gaze.
…The window to the back was open. They’d been listening.
Surprisingly , he didn’t have enough energy to be angry. Instead, Sol sighed. “You two should probably be sleeping.”
They both paused, glancing at him with slight bewilderment. Luna cleared his throat. “We were just… um..”
“Just cleaning up.” Earth said, paying a lot more attention to a dish than was probably necessary. “Don’t want to make a mess in Astrodude’s own home. It's a bit rude, y’know? Hospitality and… stuff.”
“You guys really don’t have to do that,” Astrodude said as he locked the back door behind them. “We could just clean it in the morning.”
“Nah, dude. We’re crashing at yours. It’s the… least…” Earth raised a hand to his mouth, muffling a yawn.
Alright then. Sol went over to the sink and took the metal utensils from a still yawning Earth. “Go to bed, Tellus.” He mumbled, the name slipping out without thought. “I’ll clean up.”
Earth stood there, dumbstruck. “Uh…”
“Bed, couch, table, floor, I don’t care where you go as long as you sleep.” Sol pushed him away from the sink. “You look exhausted.”
“You are not sleeping on the floor,” Luna said firmly. He’d been silently watching them both with bright grey eyes. He ducked underneath his planet's arm and tugged him out the door, sparing the star a glance. “It’s unhygienic.”
“Hey. Technically, I am the floor.” Anything else Earth might’ve said was cut off by another yawn.
Astrodude floated slightly behind, looking back at the star. “… you really don’t have to do those. It’s late.”
Sol lifted a shoulder exhaustedly. “I’m not gonna sleep for a while.”
“Okay… just, sleep at some point?”
“Maybe.”
A pat on his shoulder. Departing footsteps. Sol was left alone with the running water, his mind slow and still for the first time in a while.
“Sun?”
Earth was back, standing in the doorframe. He hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward, offering the star a tired smile. “It’s good that you’re trying to change. Really.”
Sol hummed, straightening his posture. “I did say I would try.” He breathed out steadily, looking at his youngest. “I… I do care about you. I’m sorry I was so bad at showing it.”
Earth nodded, meeting his gaze then looking away, debating with himself internally. Finally, he stepped forward and gently opened his arms, pulling the Sun into a hug.
It took a second for Sol’s mind to catch up. Once it did, he cautiously wrapped an arm around Earth’s middle, cautiously squeezing. His eyes burned again.
The hug didn’t last long. Earth stepped away and looked even more dead on his feet, if that were possible. Affection fluttered in Sol’s chest as he shooed Earth out again.
He’d finish washing these dishes, dry them off and everything. Maybe he would actually get some sleep tonight after all. His eyes were already drooping. If not maybe he could—
“Oh!” Earth stuck his head back through the doorway. “Proto and Theia said hi by the way.”
Sol nearly dropped the plates.