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Uranus read the words. Once. Twice. Thrice. Until they were etched into what was left of his heart. He couldn’t read anymore. It hurt. His eyes were teary. He let go of the note and let it fall.
It was hard accepting it. Hard accepting the fact that Neptune was this close to ending it all. He left Uranus a note. He didn’t want Uranus to care or reach out. Uranus, however, was going to care and reach out.
He knew what Neptune was feeling. Sometimes ending it all felt like freedom. But it wasn’t. Uranus recently learnt that, he just had to make Neptune see the same.
He didn’t want to live in a world without Neptune. He couldn’t live. Sure they weren’t as close as they used to be, but he couldn’t bear losing Neptune. He took out his phone from his pocket, vision blurry, and dialled Neptune.
He didn’t pick up.
…He didn’t pick up.
He dialled again.
And again.
And again.
Why won’t he pick up. Pick up. Pick up please. It was early morning where Neptune was. Neptune was an early bird. He would be up by now.
Okay, calm down. Maybe he hasn’t woken up yet. Yes, that’s it.
He just got a message from Saturn. He clicked on it. It was a screenshot of his conversation with Neptune.
Neptune sounded so tired. He wanted it to end. Uranus didn’t want it to. He wanted Neptune to see that there will be light at the end of the tunnel, sun after rain. He wanted Neptune to believe life was prettier than it seems, even if Uranus, himself, doesn’t fully believe that.
He couldn’t even physically reach Neptune. Not in time. Never in time. Why did he have to live so far away? Why did they ever went their separate ways? They should’ve stayed together. They were Uranus-and-Neptune, a team. They were supposed to stick together.
7 year old Neptune landed dramatically on Uranus’s bed, letting out an ‘umph’ as he made contact with the bed. He shuffled towards Uranus and peered at Uranus’s sketchbook. Uranus instinctively closed it shut— he always got shy whenever someone tried to see his art.
“Cousin!” He elongated the vowels, “Let’s make a vow!” He stuck out his pinky, wiggling it eagerly.
“A… vow?” Uranus set his sketchbook to the side and interlocked his pinky with Neptune’s.
“Yep! To make sure we stick with each other forever and ever!”
“Oh, sure, mate!” Uranus matched Neptune’s enthusiasm now.
“Okay! We swear to never abandon each other, to always help each other, be there for each other, to never let the other be sad! We swear to be best friends forever till the end of time!”
Uranus echoed Neptune’s words, grinning as he did so. He never wanted to lose his best friend.
He tried calling one more time.
No response.
He dropped his phone. It shattered. It probably did. Let it shatter. Let the world burn for all he cares. Let him die if it meant Neptune could live.
He fell to the ground, head hitting against the wall. It hurt. He didn’t care. He drew his knees to his chest that felt like it was constricting. He couldn’t breathe. He didn’t want to. He wanted Neptune to live. He wanted to do something. To be useful. He was so, so useless. So, so pathetic.
He picked up his phone, it was broken, yet it still lived. Maybe Neptune could, too. Uranus went into the messages and left him a text. It had to be enough. He needed it to be enough.
Stars above, why hadn’t he noticed sooner? If he wasn’t so absorbed in his own problems, maybe he could’ve seen Neptune needed help, and he could’ve provided it. He was such a fucking idiot.
Uranus picked up the note once again. He couldn’t read. The words blurred into one. Yet he knew anyways. He remembered every single word. He hoped these weren’t Neptune’s last words. He wouldn’t let them.
Hey cousin!! :D I don’t know if I ever told you, but I love you. So much. I just want you to promise me. Promise me you will not miss me when I’m gone. I don’t want you to be sad. I don’t want you to hurt. Your amazing and I love you. You deserve all the best. All that I couldn’t give.
Maybe we’ll meet again in the afterlife, if there is such a thing! Maybe…
But until then, farewell
Love,
Neptune
He didn’t want it to be a farewell. He didn’t. Uranus called again. No response.
This time he broke harder. He sobbed, chest heaving, throat constricting, gulping for air he didn’t want to reach. He cried. He cried. He cried. He cried until he couldn’t. He cried until he couldn’t feel anymore. He cried because there was nothing else he could do because of how pathetic, useless, stupid, idiotic he was.
He would give himself up just for Neptune to live.