Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Sun was always the biggest.

He was the strongest. The one all his planets and moons and dwarf planets—anyone and everyone in his solar system—could trust to protect them. He was a star! He had unfathomable amounts of power, could easily annihilate anyone with the flick of a wrist. 

But he didn’t. 

Because he was always the biggest.

And that meant he had to take care of the little ones.

Since the moment he awoke, he knew he was destined for something greater. Something that went beyond himself and survival, a special sort of thing that would bring people together. Maybe it came from the insistent calls begging for “Life! Life! Life!” that never went away, ringing in his ears until they drowned out any original thought. Or maybe it was the excitement, mixed with fiery pride and awe, at the formation of his first planet.

Or…maybe he just didn’t want to be alone.

“If you’re scared of the dark, just look at me!”

But what did the all-mighty star look to when it was scared? How did it cope with the shrill, ghostly screams haunting its dreams, the formation of another mark amongst the hundreds others engraved in its surface, a reminder of what the star was fighting for and how much it had lost. Was there a way out? A way to stop the cycle of death once and for all? 

Maybe there was. Maybe someone found the answer and was living in an endless paradise.

But not Sun.

He was stuck with Death since the dawn of time.

“R…run little one…”

“MY—MY PLANETS!!! W-What happened to them!?”

“Sun! SUN!!! HELP!!! It’s Uranus—something happened he—”

“Hey…hey there little one. You’re gonna be alright. Me and everyone else will take good care of—”

“Proto! Theia! Wait—WAIT!!! Stop you’re going to—”

“NO! You can't leave me! I am the Sun! Everyone, COME BACK!”

He’d thought that was it. He’d thought that that was where everything was going to end. His lights leaving him to venture into the darkness. It didn’t matter if it was dangerous out there, it was apparently worse to stay with him than to face the dark, empty void of space.

…he’d failed.

His one job at being a good enough star to keep them safe and happy, and he’d failed.

“…Sun?”

Or at least he thought he did.

But, as he learned countless times before, the end isn’t always the true end. Sometimes…sometimes it’s a door to new beginnings.

Sun dropped his gaze away from his destination (keeping a steady hold on the tether connecting him to Solar System, Earth tugging periodically to keep the star on course), offering Mercury a small smile as he adjusted the sleeping celestials in his arms, “Hmm, hello Mercury. You should be asleep.”

He ignored the way his voice cracked, throat rubbed raw and sore from…everything.

Mercury squinted up at the star—the darkness clouding his beloved planets’ eyes still not disappearing. Hmm…Sun would have to keep an eye on that. Wouldn’t want his planets to go blind now, would he?—the tiny planet nuzzling further into Sun’s giant palm with a crackly purr, “But I don’t wanna…”

Sun frowned, shifting the tiny weights in his arms oh-so-carefully as to not wake the others (it was already a nightmare convincing any of them to settle down, and he would like to keep them asleep thank you very much. Stars knows they needed it with all the damage and stress their bodies sustained), lifting Mercury closer to his face. 

“Rest.” Sun churred, pressing a kiss into Mercury’s hair and eliciting a tiny chirp from the the smaller planet, his wings stretching with a happy shiver—and wow was Mercury in need of a preen soon. The normally beautiful, fluffy grey-ish brown feathers were in rough shape; some were straight-up missing, bald patches stretching across his back, while the tips of others were black with the smell of something burnt.

Solar-flare, Sun thought grimly, a fiery need to protect sparking up in his mind. Someone dared to lay a hand on—

A sharp whine cut through his thoughts, the forms in his arms writhing and whimpering in pain with the sudden increase in heat—and Sun frantically pushed his temperature down, down, down as far as it could go. Gah. What the hell do you think you’re doing Sun?! You have to be more careful. This is exactly what Earth and Luna were talking about.

He has to be better. 

His planets were relying on him.

Sun lifted his arms up as far as they would go (which…wasn’t that high considering the twinges of pain ripping through his body with every movement. But he didn’t dare stop. He couldn’t. Not now. Not when he was so close. He could rest once everyone was back in their orbit, all safe and sound and recovering), kissing every forehead he could find and murmuring as softly as his shot voice could manage, “I—I’m sorry my lights. Just rest, we’ll be home soon.”

Attached to his pinky finger, Mars stirred, lifting his heavy head and looking around with those same, pitch-black eyes rimmed with tears, “…home? Whe…where’s Earth?”

“Not yet,” Sun purred, raising his head back to focus on the small area of space where the Solar System lay, “But soon. I promise.” Without him being at the center, there was no light showing Sun where his system lie, but he didn’t need it to find his way back. He would always know where his home lie amongst the vast galaxy…and it also helped to have Earth and Luna’s connection tugging him in the right direction.

Just take one step after another, Sol. Whatever you do, just don’t stop.

Ugh, he should’ve done that light-jump thing Ogle did when they first left the Solar System. It would’ve made the return trip so much faster! Everything is far too slow for him, Sun likes fast and exciting, when the wind is whipping in your ears and anticipation buzzing in your ears. That was the good kind, at least.

The bad kind of anticipation was when you were racing against the clock to rescue your planets from the darkness of space. The bad kind was when you were fighting against the approaching doom, terrified that if you were too slow, Death would catch up to you and take your treasures.

He had to go faster—

His legs wobbled underneath him, the star staggering forward with sudden, jerky movements as his feet decided that moment was perfect to tangle together and throw him off balance. 

Sun stumbled, pitching to the side and swaying dangerously close to toppling over completely—just barely managing to catch himself in time. The mighty star let out a yelp, frantically throwing out his gravity to stabilize himself and the pressing the tiny, whimpering bodies against his chest to keep them in his arms. His momentum carried him a few more, staggering steps forward, Sun’s core racing like his wild thoughts.

It was quiet for a moment as Sun trembled, his eyes wide as terror gripped him by the throat and didn’t let go.

Stars he almost messed everything up.

Get it together Sun.

Tiny, mewling cries erupted from his celestials clinging to his chest, snapping Sun out of his fear as he held them close, his breath hitching as he apologized over and over again, I—I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…it’s okay now. Go back to sleep my loves. We’ll be home soon.” 

“It’s…it’s going to be okay. I promise,” Sun added, forcing his legs to keep moving despite the shakiness in them.

He held his breath, begging to Sagittarius A* that he would not slip up again and put everyone’s lives on the line (wouldn’t be the first time). Ugh. Great job Sun! As per usual, stupid Sun going and ruining perfectly good things because he’s a useless, pathetic failure of a star.

He can’t be doing this—not now. Not when they were so close to getting back home. Sun has already messed up so much, and he was supposed to be fixing that now, not risking failure.

Stars above, what would the other stars say if they saw you now? The mess he put himself in all because he wasn’t strong enough. Stars are supposed to be huge and mighty rulers, ruthless and undefeated, and yet it seemed that whatever Sun did, he kept losing.

What is he doing wrong?

Out of the corner of his eye, Sun’s gaze shifted to the three, tell-tale dots hovering amongst the many pinpricks of light scattered across the sky. Even here, out of his orbit, he knew where they lie. His core skipped a beat, the same, scared little kid that first met them, shrinking in on himself.

“Hey—hey Toliman! Look at this one!”

“Nice find, Rigil!”

“Can you please help me. I—I’m scared.”

“‘Please help me I’m scared.’ Hah! Pff, poor little star.”

Sun grit his teeth, ripping his eyes away from the stars in the distance and barging past the memories of stupid faces and annoying laughter. It doesn’t matter. It’s not important! He can remember it all he wants, but it won’t change the past.

Instead…instead he should focus on the future. Yes. Get your head out of the past and look forward. That’s what he needs to do to be a good star. He needs to be here, amongst his beloved celestials—no, no wait that’s wrong. Not his. Not anymore. They’re not something to be owned. 

They’re their own beings in charge of their own lives.

And he needed to respect that.

Aches and pains ricocheted around in his body, but nothing matched the heart-ache pulsing in his core. Don’t get him wrong—Sun is beyond relieved that he managed to find all the celestials before it was too late, and he’s even happier that they didn’t need much convincing to come back home, but…

But there’s a part of him that knows things are going to be different now.

And he’s not sure if that’s for the better, or for worse.

But that’s a future Sun problem. He can worry all about how they’re going to treat him and if he was really the right star for them later on. For now, he just willed his shaky legs to keep moving, placing one foot in front of the other and pushing away the twinges of pain ripping through his body. 

Nothing was going to stop him from getting home.

He’s the Sun. He’s a star! He can do this. It’s just some more walking. That’s all. He can walk, right? Of course he can! It’s simple! The planets leave their orbits all the time and make it look easy. It doesn’t matter if this is technically the first time Sun has left his orbit, he’s supposed to be strong and fierce—an indomitable force to be reckoned with. 

Yes. Yes, he can do this. 

He has to—if not for him, for the beings cradled in his arms.

Sun steeled his gaze, refocusing his blurry vision back on the ever-growing shape of the Oort Cloud in the distance. He adjusted the babies in his arms, humming quietly to shush a whine from one of the dwarf planets—stars he really needed to learn their names. How had he’d not felt them?! Were they just…too far? Did that mean there were others out there, too far to be felt by the star’s gravity and waiting to be loved—his gravity rippling around him like it was reaching out to the Solar System.

Stars above he can’t wait to be home.

He’s so tired, he hasn’t had a moment to rest since…well since he was born! But it got especially worse after the Moon Revolution and the Solar System Trials and then X returning and everything Sun had ever believed in falling apart because apparently everyone has lied to him and nothing is true anymore and at any given moment they could turn against him and he could lose everything all over again.

But that was old Sun talking.

The new Sun knew not to believe in the tales the voices whispering in his ears spun, their lies filling him with paranoia that compromised his ability to be a good star. The new Sun knew that he just had to ignore it, just like how he pushed down every negative aspect of himself—the anger, the fear, the solar flares, the mood-swings, the grief, depression, anxiety, everything that made him something to be feared—shoving it down, down, down, down, to the loneliest corners of his mind where they could not escape and harm more people.

He had to be the perfect star.

Which started by getting everyone back home in one piece.

Sun shifted his attention back down to the litter of celestials curled up in his arms, keeping one eye on the shine of the Oort Cloud, while the other scanned the babies—no, they’re planets. Stop calling them babies. They’re grown up now and didn’t like it when he babied them.

And stars knows he would do anything to make the planets happy.

Anyways, for what felt like the millionth time, Sun ran his eyes over the celestials, obsessively counting the bodies clinging to one another (and any part of Sun they could reach) after they’d left the Rogues and had all clambered into his arms. 

The Rogues…anger boiled in the star’s core, the fierce need to protect rearing its head. How dare they hurt them? How dare the Rogues send them away, into the darkness, knowing full well what lied out there.

Never again, Sun grit his teeth, a low, warning growling rumbling in his throat, never again will he let anything happen to them.

Sun lifted the bodies closer to himself, sleeping faces coming into focus. One—Mercury was attached to his pinky finger and looking okay, besides the rough shape his wings were in. Two—Mars, who was right next to Mercury, clung to him, Venus, and the Sun’s thumb, his moons hiding within his hoodie. Other than being a little bruised up, Sun was mostly worried for Mars’ mental state after being separated from Earth for so long…

He’ll be fine, Sun told himself, cooing softly at the little planet, they’re almost home and he can reunite with Earth soon.

Sun nodded to himself, moving on to Venus’ sleeping form, noting the way that, even in his sleep, the rocky planet seemed to wince with every breath…hmm. Sun’ll keep an eye on him. Can’t have anyone hurt or neglecting themselves in his Solar System!

…even if it was his fault in the first place. They’re hurt because he wasn’t strong enough, big enough, good enough to keep them safe. Thick emotion blocked his throat, Sun swallowing past the lump and the burning behind his eyes.

Pull yourself together, Sun. Stars above, get a grip. What, you’re gonna cry? Like a big baby? No, just cut it out, suck it up, and get your head back in the game. Everything is riding on you doing something right for once.

Sun sucked in a breath, ignoring the way his ribs protested the action, humming under his breath a soft melody that he’d long forgotten the origins of. His voice buzzed in his throat, rumbling from his chest like thunder.

Thunder…

His core rippled with the hints something–pride? Fear? Love? Or maybe a combination of the three–twisting and contorting in a way that stole away his breath. He didn't know why he felt this way. Everyone was alive and they were returning back home, what more was there to be scared about?!

They're not going to accept you as their star. They still hate you. There is no way to forgive all you've done.

Sun grit his teeth, blinking away the growing pressure behind his eyes and dropped his gaze down to where his little thunderbringer lay in his arms…

And promptly froze when two, brilliant blue eyes stared back at him.

"Ju–Jupiter!" Sun stammered, cursing himself for sounding so pathetic (come on, get it together Sun), putting on his best, most brightest smile for the planet, "You're supposed to be asleep."

Jupiter blinked slowly up at the star, his long, pink curly hair falling into those eyes hazy with tears and exhaustion. An ugly feeling twisted inside of Sun's core, guilt rearing its angry head–-your fault. That's all your fault. Everything was, is, and forever will be because you messed up and can only ever harm other people–-as Jupiter pushed himself up to better see the star, his movements slow and heavy.

"I–I know Sun," Jupiter mumbled, dropping his eyes down to the moons latched onto the planet and tucked in his jacket, "I just…couldn't sleep."

Sun frowned, worry crossing his mind. Why couldn't Jupiter sleep? Was something wrong (of course something was wrong, he went into the darkness! Orbital sickness aside, that would mess anybody up. Even the strongest of stars couldn't survive forever out there), was Jupiter hurt? Sick? Could Sun fix it? Oh please please let it be something easy he can fix.

Sun shifted, carefully lifting the biggest planet up to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. Hmm…he's a little warm. Hopefully no fever. "Just try to rest," Sun murmured softly into the curls, relishing the same old scent tickling his nostrils. A sense of nostalgia crashed over the star with a sudden longing for simpler times, something he knew was not possible.

Not after everything he's done.

If he wanted things to be simple he shouldn't have gone and made it more complicated.

Jupiter just grunted in reply, melting against the star's chest with a deep, heavy sigh. Sun bit his tongue, resisting the urge to make a joke (humor is one of his coping mechanisms, afterall…oh my me, look!!! He's being smart about his feelings now!) and ruin the moment like he ruined everything else. 

Instead, he pushed his light down as far as it could go, dropping his temperature so low a shiver ran up his back. But he had to do it. It didn't matter if his core constricted tighter or the ache spreading throughout his body grew louder, the others deserved to have a safe place they could rest. After everything Sun's done, the least he can do is offer them that.

Sun grimaced, a sharp, shooting pain zapping up his back, tiny spasms shaking his arms. Jupiter's curls fell away as Sun lowered his arms back to a manageable position, the star mourning the absence of Jupiter's touch, but he couldn't hold that position for long. 

Stars above it felt like even his bones were aching, pulsing in a deep, angry fire that punished Sun for every movement he dared to take. He didn't care, though. He didn't matter. The treasures in his arms were more important than the silly aches and pains the star felt.

He could take it. He's been handling it for billions of years, what's a few sore muscles going to do to him?

Jupiter pressed himself against the star's chest (Sun completely ignoring the bite of pain that struck through his ribs as the planet wrapped his arms around the bigger one's middle and squeezed. Who is hurting? Not Sun! No way, no how. He's too tough to cry), a pang of love vibrating through his core. Sun gently shifted his hands to rub circles on Jupiter's back, humming quietly with a tune he knew Jupiter would recognize. 

A satisfied smile stretched across the star's face as Jupiter slowly relaxed, the tension in his body unwinding like string. Good, good. You did good, Sun. He swung his gaze back over the rest of hi–the planets, biting back a hiss of pain as his neck twinged from the sudden movement. Ugh, stop. Get over it, Sun. Stop being so dramatic. 

A yawn brought Sun's attention to the planet leaning against Jupiter, Saturn stretching out and tapping the star's arm to grab his attention, "…my star?"

Sun grimaced at the use of the title, shaking off the uncomfortableness with a warm smile, "Yes, Saturn? You know you should be asleep–"

"Not now, Sun," Saturn sighed, his expression twisting into something tighter. Sun furrowed his eyebrows, tilting his head to the side–what's wrong? Why is Saturn worried? Did something happen? Is someone hurt? The ringed planet sucked in a shaky breath, voice thick and wavering with worry, "One…one of my moons–Rhea, she isn't feeling very well. I–I don't know what to do and I've tried to heal her but it isn't working!"

"Hey, hey," Sun murmured, cupping Saturn's cheek with a finger. The planet trembled in his hold, leaning against the star’s touch with a content sound, “It’s okay…may I see her?”

Saturn hesitated, chewing on his lip as Sun tried to ignore the hurt that the planet didn’t trust the star right away. After a moment, Saturn nodded, carefully plucking a room from his robes and lifting her up for the Sun to see. 

Oh dear…shivers wracked the tiny moon’s shaking body, her face flushed a worryingly shade of red as she lied in Saturn’s hands and heaved in quick, shallow breaths. Worry and guilt swirled together in Sun’s mind, mixing together to create something bigger and uglier as Rhea let out a shrill whimper, the high-pitched sound punching through the star’s core.

“I…” Sun stared, his mind frustratingly blank on what to do. What can he do?! Saturn is the strongest healer and even he couldn’t fix whatever was wrong! Even if the star tried to do something, his own heat might make Rhea feel worse than she already is. 

He’s useless.

He can’t do anything right, can he? Always choosing the wrong answer and the wrong way and failing over and over and over again. This was his fault to begin with, and now he can’t even fix his own mess.

“Sun?”

The star snapped back into focus, “Right!” (You’re supposed to pay attention, Sun. That’s the most important step to communicating better.) He withdrew the hand pressed against Saturn, fingers hovering above Rhea’s body. His core constricted tighter at the sight of shimmering tears pooling underneath the moon, and Sun just closed his eyes, pushing a command through his gravity.

Sleep.

Thankfully, Rhea complied without a fight, the whimpers quieting as the moon slumped back into Saturn’s hold.“That’s the best I can do for now,” Sun sighed, blinking past the waves of exhaustion pounding his head—eugh, that probably wasn’t the best idea to do with how spent he already was.

Saturn wrapped his arms around his moon, tears brimming in his eyes and his voice thick with emotion, “Thank you, Sun. Thank you, thank you, thank you—”

“Mmh. Now you too. Sleep,” Sun grunted, bringing the celestials in his arms closer to his chest to continue to headcount. His head felt heavy and fuzzy, but he could still count! It’s easy! Sun can do easy things. Sun can do anything! He’s a star!

(He can do everything except keep his babies safe.)

“Uhm, hold up. Sun?” A tug stole Sun’s attention away from inspecting Uranus’ wings (seriously, what did Uranus do out there?! Unlike Mercury with his patchy wings, most of Uranus’ feathers were completely gone, either leaving a burnt stub behind or missing as a result of the molting the poor planets were obviously going through. Uranus shivered again, his wings quivering violently as they searched for warmth, the few straggly feathers left looking scarily similar to shriveled leaves on a dead tree), the star frowning as he focused back on Saturn rubbed his eyes with a yawn. Can they stop waking up? Sleep is good. They need sleep to recover.

Sun sighed, aiming the hot breath of steam away from the bodies in his arms, “Yes, Saturn? Do any of your other moons need help?

“No, no they’re doing fine now, thank you,” Saturn nodded, a small smile peaking through the worry ravaging his expression. A strum of delight rang in Sun’s core, pushing back the crippling exhaustion—you did something right! Great job! Just continue this streak and everything is going to be okay. The ringed planet nuzzled deeper into Sun’s robes, big eyes shimmering with compassion, “But are…are you going to sleep too?”

“I—” Surprise flickered through Sun’s mind, an excuse already rolling off the tip of his tongue, “I’m not tired. And besides, I have to keep us on track.”

Saturn frowned, eyebrows furrowing together so much they almost touched, “But—”

“I’ll be fine, Saturn,” Sun insisted, begging internally for the planet to drop it. Yes, he was exhausted, and yes, he wanted nothing more than to just collapse right then and there and close his eyes for all eternity…but he can’t. He has a job to do. He couldn’t throw it all away just for what? A nap? Stars no! 

Sun summoned his best, most convincing smile, puffing up his chest and ignoring the doubt seeping into Saturn’s eyes, “And I’m the Sun! I don’t need sleep!” 

Saturn looked like he wanted to continue arguing, but the little moons in his arms whined and in his sleep, Jupiter pulled Saturn closer to himself, and so the ringed planet released the star from his scrutiny. “…fine,” Saturn said, relaxing against Sun’s chest, those radiant, golden eyes piercing through Sun’s core. “But promise you’ll be okay?”

Hah! Good luck with that. He’s far from okay. His bones ache and his surface is littered with angry bruises that sent zaps of pain with every movement, and his head feels like someone took a hammer and hit it a million times and then flushed molasses into his brain, and the places that aren’t hurting are worryingly numb and tingly—his ankle, fingers, right arm—and it hurts to breathe, his ribs shooting in agony with every breath he took. 

He was as far from being ‘okay’ as possible.

…

“I promise,” Sun murmured, ignoring the angry voice in his head that berated him from lying. But what else was he supposed to say? That he wasn’t feeling okay? That everything hurt and he was actually really scared that something was seriously wrong with him?

No. 

He couldn’t say that.

So lying it was.

Saturn huffed, but finally let go of it and closed his eyes, curling around his moons protectively. Sun ran his hands over the rest of the celestials, keeping his touch feather-light as to not wake them. His fingers trembled, gently poking and prodding every being in his arms...okay, good. They’re all breathing. Heavy, sleepy breaths brushed against his fingers, and Sun’s core twisted as he gazed upon the treasures of his life. 

“I’ll be okay…” he mumbled to no one in particular, lifting his eyes back up to the emptiness of space as the pressure swelled behind them. No. Don’t you dare. Keep it together. He grit his teeth, hissing out a sharp, hitching breath, “I’m fine.” 

Liar.

Sun bit his lip so hard he tasted blood, but it successfully pushed back the thickness of his throat, allowing him to breathe normally again. The star pushed on, marching onwards with his head held as high as it would allow, cradling the little treasures sleeping in his arms. 

Yes, everything was going to be okay.

Plot twist! Everything is not okay. 

A rattling cough ripped through Sun’s chest sending bolts of pain shooting through his ribs and leaving him gasping for air—which then, in turn, just made his ribs even more angry and left Sun even more light-headed than before. 

Dizziness slammed into the star, sending Sun staggering over his feet as the world titled, the distant stars blurring together as Sun desperately tried to right himself. There was—he had to—to keep going. No matter what. He can’t stop. 

“S—Sun?!” Someone shouted, but the ringing in his ears filled his mind and stole away his hearing. He shook his head, regretting the decision when another wave of dizziness tilted his vision. Eugh. Ow. I’m sorry…he should be listening. He should, but he isn’t, and he’s failing. 

His body shook with fatigue, every step the mighty star taking bringing him closer to collapsing completely. His legs felt like jelly, numb and tingly and barely holding him up as he stumbled into his Solar System.

The Kuiper Belt…he vaguely noted, the realization fighting through the sludge of his mind to get a reaction. The star just sagged, relief cutting through the ravaging pain of his body. Home. He’s home. It’ll all be over soon. Just hang on a little longer. 

Movement jostled his arms, sending bolts of pain spasming up his back as Sun’s arms locked together. Gah. No…no they can leave if they want to. He’s not controlling them. He just…can’t get his arms to relax. This is the dwarf planets’ orbits, so if they wanted to leave they could.

The weights in his arms shifted, but didn’t decrease. So nobody climbed out. Okay. That’s nice. They stayed. But they’ll have to go soon though. Because…because of something bad…what was it? They can’t stay out of their orbits for long because of…of orbital sickness! That’s right.

Right on cue, Sun’s core flip-flopped, sending nausea climbing up his throat as his chest squeezed and flipped like a pancake. His vision blurred, darkening on the edges, but he didn’t let that stop him. He’s a star. He can’t be stopped. He can do whatever…whatever he wanted.

And right now he really wanted to lie down.

Maybe…maybe he could just lie down right here. It’s close enough to his orbit, right? He could just let everyone down and fall asleep. They could get to their orbits from here. 

Little hands tugged on his tattered, dirty robes, but Sun couldn’t look down to see who it was. His head felt too heavy, pounding with every unstable step he took, and the nausea gripping him by the throat threatened to burst out and escape if he made the wrong move. 

I’m not ignoring you…Sun blinked, eyelids heavier than ever, dragging his mind, body, eyes down, down, down—

Wake up!

Sun’s eyes snapped back open, tightening his grip on the babies in his arms as the star grimaced, his light attacking his brain with hot, fiery knives. Eugh. Turn it off. Please. It’s too bright. The darkness was evil, yes, but the light hurt.

Voices overlapped, echoing in his mind, all sluggish and muffled like they were underwater. Huh. Weird. 

“Sun are you okay?!”

“My star, please rest—”

“We’re almost there. I—I can see Earth!”

Bodies wiggled in his arms, and the star let out a pathetic sound of protest, but was too weak to stop them from leaving. 

“No! You can't leave me! I am the Sun!”

Voices met his ears, shouts and words being exchanged and there was obviously something important happening—Earth. Earth and Luna and Ceres were left behind. In the Solar System. In his Solar System—but it all mushed together into gibberish. As long as everyone was okay and alive, it didn’t matter what was being said. 

The star slipped his hands up his tattered sleeves, running his fingers over the hot, flushed skin. 

No new marks.

Good.

More weights left his arms, leaving Sun mourning the grounding touch and reeling at the sudden balance shift. The star tottered, each step costing more energy and bringing Sun closer to falling on his face than the last. How bad would it be if he collapsed right here? 

Bad idea. Stupid idea. Stupid Sun. It would be…be bad. Because he needs to be in the center of the Solar System or everything would be destroyed. Something about balance. Or whatever. He doesn’t know anymore. It hurts to think.

Gravity tugged on him, and Sun bit back a cry as his body exploded in pain. Tuggingpullingtearingapartfightfightfight—his vision flickered for a moment, going white like like a supernova exploded right in front of his face. Sun blinked, and blinked, and blinked again, his core tightening as his breaths quickened. It still hurt to breathe. 

  It still hurt to do anything.

Sun pushed past the agony stabbing his legs, head, brain, chest—the agony stabbing his everything—chopped, heaving breaths rattling through his core. Breathe. Breathe. Just breathe, even if in doing so, he gets torn apart with every strangled inhale he sucks in.

You can do it Sun. It’s just breathing. Just breathe and get to your orbit. And everything will be okay.

Come on.

Step. 

Pause.

Breathe. 

The last of the celestials crawled from his arms, scattering around as they sobbed in relief at being home.

Step. 

Pause.

Breathe.

Gravity rippled around him, his core happily buzzing as the orbits stabilized, the planets sliding back into their places.

Step.

Pause.

And pause.

And continue pausing.

…what was he doing?

“Sun!” The voice stirred recognition in the star’s slow mind, Sun’s hazy eyes flicking to the side. Oh. Earth. Yay. He didn’t die when the star was gone. Why wasn’t the planet moving—oh.

Sun had done the thing. With the gravity. That kept them frozen in their orbits.

With a wave of his hand, he pulled his control away, the star swaying on his feet as every point of gravity, every moving object, every single thing orbiting in his system flared to life in his mind. Ignore it. There. Done. They’re free. They can leave and do whatever they want now.

He won’t control them anymore.

Sun swallowed down the rising nausea, his lips dry and cracking as he dragged his aching body forward. Close. So close. He can feel it. His orbit. It’s right there. Just. A few. More. Steps. He can do it. It’s not that hard. How hard can crossing such a small distance be?

Answer: it was really hard.

But finally, finally he stepped back into his orbit, his core clicking into place and driving away a smidge of the sickness gripping his body. The wrongness faded, relief washing through the star’s body. He was so close. He was so close to closing his eyes and resting. Maybe for forever. 

But he still had something he needed to do.

“M...m’cry…” Sun strained, grimacing at how shot his voice was. Releasing that huge solar flare really did a number on him, huh? 

He didn’t regret it.

He would do it a thousand times more if his planets needed it.

Tiny gravity pressed against his own—gravity Sun instantly recognized belonging to the smallest of his planets. Okay. Okay good. Mercury is here. Now just…squint your eyes, maybe you can—there! Yes! The small, blurry blob came into focus, details stolen behind Sun’s darkening vision, but it was Mercury. It had to be.

Sun grit his teeth, pushing past the dizziness and his fading vision and the exhaustion threatening to drag him down, down, down to the depths of hell, determination flaring in his mind. He needed to—he had to know. “Pl’nts…o-o-o—”

Hands pressed against his flushed face, icy cold touch heavenly against his feverish surface. Mercury nuzzled against the star’s cheek, his voice barely cutting through the fog overtaking Sun’s mind, “Yes…is okay. Everyone is okay.”

Everyone is okay.

Everyone is okay.

Sun smiled, pride and relief blossoming in tandem in his core. Hah! Take that Rogues! Everyone was okay. So he…he could just…just rest now. If that’s okay. He’s just going to close his eyes for a moment. He’ll feel better after. He promises. 

The last, wavering amounts of energy drained from his body, the small bits of consciousness he had left slipping through his fingers like sand. He finally let go. Stopped resisting. Stopped fighting the truth. 

His head exploded in pain, ripping his body to pieces as Sun gasped, and then slumped over, the mighty star suddenly crumpling to his knees. His body spasmed painfully, moving without his control as his eyes rolled to the back of his head—but before his vision darkened completely, he got one last look at his beautiful solar system.

I love you. All of you. So much.

And then he was falling. Away from the touch. Away from the stars. Away from existence.

Into darkness.

The little star blinked awake, body sore and fresh out of formation,  “…who…where am I?” 

“Hey—hey Toliman!” The little star’s eyes widened, two new stars—friends? Others like him?—appearing before him, “Look at this one.”

“Nice find Rigil,” the other, more orange-y star sneered.

“Can you please help me?” The tiny star’s voice wavered as he wrapped his arms around his middle. It’s dark out there. Is there anyone else? Who is he? What’s happening? “I’m—I’m scared.”

“‘Please help me, I’m scared,’” one of the stars mimicked, fear rippling in the tiny star’s gravity as the two burst into laughter. Where they not—he just wanted a friend! Why are they laughing? It wasn’t funny! 

Tears blurred his vision, the tiny star whimpering as he shrunk away from the two stars—flinching when another source of gravity pulled on him. “Come on, don’t bully him,” a red star said, floating out of nowhere from behind the tiniest star. Ah, don’t do that! You scared him! 

“GUYS!” A booming voice bellowed, the baby star jumping suddenly, “GET OUT  OF THE WAY.” A huge star suddenly appeared, towering over the baby star as he yelped and buried his face in his arms, hiding from the threat. Big star. That’s a VERY big star. What if they try to eat him?

“It’s that star.” The baby star peaked through his arms, watching as the giant star swung his gaze, raising a shaky finger to point at a—is that another star? How many stars are there?! “It’s going Supernova!”

“Okay I’m out.”

“We gotta go!”

“See ya baby star!”

The stars rushed off, their gravities fading with their retreating light, leaving just the tiny star alone. The other star—the one the big star said something about—pulsed brightly, their surface a sickly shade of white. “H-hello?” Sun stammered, reaching out to the old star, “Are you in pain?”

The star turned, her tired eyes widening with a split second of horror.“R-r-run little one…” her voice faded, trailing off as her body started to pulse brighter.

No…is she okay?! What happened?! “No…no please don’t go to sleep,” The little star whimpered, tears brimming at the edges of his vision. “Please—” the baby star cried, wiping his eyes only for more tears to spill down his cheeks— “I don’t want to be alone!”

BOOOM!!!            

“Hello?” The star sniffled, calling out for the big star in the distance. Please. Please he can’t be alone. A muffled reply met his ears, but he couldn’t understand it! No! “I—I can’t hear you!” 

Okay. Okay it’s fine. 

The star stood on his tiptoes, standing above the debris surrounding him and waving wildly. Maybe then he could be seen. He shouted as loud as he could,“Please, can—can you come closer to me?” 

Okay maybe that wouldn’t work. They can’t hear him. So maybe…

The star moved forward, his eyes trained on the star in the distance. He smiled—a grin that was quickly wiped off his face as the tiny things around him shattered—

“No-no—no I—I’m sorry!” The tiny star stumbled back, yanking his hands back like he was burnt, his eyes wide and mouth agape with horror. No. No he didn’t mean to! He just wanted to say hi…

“Okay, I’ll…I’ll stay put,” the star decided, sucking in deep breaths to calm his racing core. The debris—that used to be something forming—still orbited around him, chunks of rock and ice trapping him in a cage. A sad feeling crashed over the star, “…sorry little rocks.”

He lifted his gaze, raising his voice again for the other star to maybe hear, “I’m sorry! I can’t go with you!” 

The little star dropped his head in defeat, pulling his legs close to himself and wrapping his arms around his knees, “Maybe one day…” he murmured, gazing upon the vast night sky filled with dots—were all those dots other stars? He hoped so. “…maybe one day I’ll be able to hang out with the other stars.”

He wished so. He’d wish upon as many stars as possible to make his wish come true.

Sun shifted, turning to the debris and asteroids surrounding him with a smile, “But for now, you can be my friends, right?”

The asteroids said nothing, but hey, it wasn’t a no!

Gravity, formation, pulling, tugging, creating—

Planet.

The star gasped, his core leaping for joy as his hands fluttered up to cover his mouth. The little celestial floating below him blinked awake—oh my me they are so small. Was this how the star looked to the other stars? As a small little baby? The new celestial gazed up at the star as the two locked eyes.

“H-hello?” 

Planet!

The voices in his head cheered, the star’s eyes widening with realization, “Wait, you’re—you’re a planet!” Delight rippled through his gravity, his light pulsing brightly in tandem. “I—I have a planet?” A planet! His very own planet! He’s not alone anymore! Oh thank the stars, thank the universe, thank everyone! Thank you so much.

The planet (oh they needed a name now, didn’t they. Hmm think, think, think) took a step back, wincing against the star’s brilliant light, “Who…who am I?”

“You’re a planet!” The star grinned, his hands flapping in giddy glee, “My first planet ever! You were born from the stuff I came from!” He gestured to the debris and asteroids around him, not daring to look away from the tiny planet that was now his.

“Oh…” the planet looked down, shifting their—his, because this was a boy, right?—weight side to side, “Uh, sorry.”

“No, don’t be!” The star quickly assured. He couldn’t have his first baby feeling guilty now, could he? No, no, he would sacrifice anything and everything for the planet to be happy. “In fact…” he grinned, throwing his hands out wide, “You could even be a star! You’re mostly made of hydrogen and—and helium! Like me!”

The planet shook his head, curling further in on himself, “But…I’m too little. You’re too big.”

Oh his sweet little baby...

“I know, I know,” the star murmured softly, carefully lowering himself down to the planet’s level. If he’s too big, then he can easily make himself smaller! Easy peasy!  He smiled, now eye-level to the little planet to be equal.“But that’s okay, you don’t need to be a star.” 

The bigger one did. The bigger one needed to be strong and mighty and fierce and protect no matter what. Now that he had a planet, the star needed to be responsible! “My first planet,” the star whispered, leaning back against his gravity with a satisfied sort of pride blooming in his core. 

The planet moved away from his light, shifting his attention to the deep, dark, terrifying expanse of space, “…it looks scary out there.”

“Yeah, I-I know.” Sun ignored the three dots of light in the corner of his vision, instead training his attention on the—his little planet. He cupped his hands, inviting the planet to climb into his palms with another, beaming smile, “But hey! If you’re afraid of the dark, just look at me!” 

“…” The planet carefully clambered into his hands, the star shivering at the feeling of touch. The little celestial barely weighed anything in his hands, but still, the small pressure was almost overwhelming—but in a good way. The star pushed down his dancing flames as far as they could go, tilting his head to the side as the planet frowned and spoke up again, “And what do you do look at when you are afraid?”

“I—” the star’s voice died in his throat, recovering just as quickly with a hum as he lifted the planet closer to his face, “Don’t worry!” He pressed a kiss to the wild, pink curls, grinning when he heard a little giggle come from the planet, “I’m the Sun. I’ll…be okay.”

“AHHHHHHHHHH!!!” 

“Wha—what?!” Debris orbited the star where young, still-forming rocky planets once lie, shattered, gone, broken, DEAD—

“My…my planets!” Sun screeched, his core clenching tighter, flames flaring up and down his body. No, no, no, NO!!! He was doing so good! He made sure Zeus and Chronos and Erebus stayed in their orbits and kept his light just right and—and this is how he’s repaid?!

A clump of shattered asteroids passed by—asteroids that used to be something. Babies…his babies…

“What happened to them?!” The star cried, his body bursting into brilliant, blinding light. Fists slammed into his head—bright. Bright. Have to be bright to block out the darkness. Block out the pain. Block out the new, strange marks carving into his skin as another reminder of what happened.

“Hey, Sun!”

The star swung his head to the Asteroid Belt, immediately shoving down the burning pressure behind his eyes and the pain rippling through his gravity as he zeroed in on Erebus, “W—what is it?” 

Erebus met his gaze, ice-cold eyes flickering with something the Sun could not read, “I think you should ask Jupiter about it.”

Wha—

“…Zeus?” The star’s voice shook, his eldest dropping his head to look away from the Sun. When…when did he get to that side of the Asteroid Belt?! That’s not right! He’s not supposed to be out there! Sun clenched his teeth, hissing out a sharp, hot breath, “Why are you not in your orbit?!”

Zeus’ eyes widened, staring up at the star frozen in fear, “I—I—”

“Come on, Zeus. Just say it~” Erebus sneered—and did Sun really have to talk to the planet again about being nicer? Ugh. Failure of a star, you are.

“I…” Zeus stammered over his words, and Sun held his ground even as sympathy ranged in his core. Something happened. Something bad that resulted in death. If Zeus knew anything, he needed to say it now. The planet sighed, shoulders sagging as he hugged himself, “I tried to stop them. The Rocky planets they—they woke up and tried to leave their orbits!”

…

WHAT.

“Some of them crashed,” Zeus continued, confirming the star’s fears one by one, “And some of them just…left the Solar System.”

The star’s flames crackled in his ears, drowning out the the other voices. They…left? Why—why would they do that?! Was he such a bad star that they chose the darkness over him? But he loved them! He took care of them, protected them—was that not enough?

“I’m…I’m sorry, Sun. I can return to my orbit if you—”

“NO!” The star shrieked, shaking his head so fast it left him dizzy, “Stay there!” His planets froze, fear flashing across their faces—a fact lost to Sun as his mind raced with panic,“If you move another inch we could cause more instability.” 

Stars above, how does he fix this? He can’t get them back. He can’t heal them. The babies are dead. He tugged on his hair, forcing labored breaths to slow down. Breathe. Breathe. A panicking star is a useless star. 

“That…that’s your new orbit Zeus,” the star decided, ignoring the mourning feeling opening up deep, yawning chasm in his core. “Just stay in your orbits.” It’s fine. This is fine. It’ll all work out now if they just stay where they’re supposed to be. Nothing can go wrong that way! No more death. 

His planets might be a little further away from him, but they’re still there. They’re still his.

So…so he’s not alone.

Thank heavens…

Just please, no more death.

“But what do we tell the Sun?”

“Tell me what?” The star said slowly, his voice low with the suspicion rising in his core. What are they doing now? Are they keeping something from him?

“Sun!” Zeus exclaimed, taking a step back and exchanging a glance with Chronos, “How…how long have you been there?”

Sun narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms as the wariness in his mind tripled, “Long enough to know that I don’t know anything.” Something must’ve happened, right? Why else would Zeus be acting all weird and…

Tug.

No tug.

The star’s eyes widened, dread bubbling up in his core, “Wait…where’s Erebus?” The planet’s gravity was missing…Sun shifted, looking left and right, up and down, squinting against his blinding light and glaring into the darkness, “I—I don’t see him.”

Chronos took a step forward, hands twisting together in the way he always did when the planet was nervous, “He’s…he’s gone Sun.”

...

“GONE?” The star bellowed, his fire, light, power doubling, tripling, quadrupling in size to match the swell of emotions. No he—Erebus wouldn’t—“WHAT DO YOU MEAN GONE?” The star shook his head, pacing back and forth like a predator. No. It’s impossible.  The star’s nails dug into his skin, but there were no marks. No extra death. So…so what happened? No, he couldn’t have leaft—Sun would’ve felt it! He would’ve said something! 

“He—he wanted to explore other Solar Systems,” Zeus explained, drawing the star’s attention back to the planets he still had, “And he…left.”

Erebus…left?

Left the Sun, left his star, left the light and the love and the protection.

Left him…for the darkness.

Huge emotions choked the tiny star, bubbling up, swelling, bursting at the edges—

And he roared.

Light, power, fury blinded the star, fire bursting from his body in a huge, brilliant flash of light. The beam tore through his surface, the agony paling in comparison to the heartbreak ripping through his core. For a moment, everything went white. 

Everything was simple.

Erebus was gone, and the Sun was upset.

But it wasn’t that easy to deal with.

He stumbled backwards, breathless and body aching as the flare ended. But it wasn’t over. He still had—had to—stars no, his baby his baby left him how could they? Fire danced along his surface, burning the tears spilling down his cheeks as the grief turning to anger, “AFTER EVERYTHING I DO FOR YOU ALL—” light pulsed, blinding, bright, powerful like the beasts before him, “…SO BE IT. GOOD RIDDANCE EREBUS!”

“JUST LEAVE MY SOLAR SYSTEM!!!” The star screeched, blinded by his fury and betrayal he didn’t even realize what he was condemning his baby to. He yanked, pulled, tore at his hair, body gripped by agonizing fire as he screamed into the void, “WE DON’T NEED YOU. WE HAVE EVERYTHING WE NEED HERE!”

The star sunk to his knees, heaving in labored breaths, his body trembling from exertion, pain, panic, tears—it didn’t matter. It wasn’t important. Not now. Death, death, why did it never end?! Why did it always come back? He thought he’d done good but…but—

“From now on,” Sun hissed through his teeth, brilliant fire still burning as he raised his head, his planets freezing under his fiery gaze, “We will all be friends and and NO MORE PLANETS WILL CRASH WITH EACH OTHER OR ABANDON THE SOLAR SYSTEM OR ANY OF THAT!!!” His voice mutated into something he didn’t recognize, raw and hard and filled desperation, “Is. That. Clear?”

“Yes sir!”

The star nodded harshly, turning away from the planets to hide. Hide his tears. Hide his anger. Hide his fear, failure, grief, frustration—everything. His planets couldn’t see that part of him. 

They needed a loving star.

Sun wrapped his arms around his middle, squeezing with every shaky breath slipping past his lips. How could this happen?! Was he really that bad of a star that Erebus choose the darkness instead of him? His eyes burned, but he shook his head and grit his teeth so hard his jaw ached. No. Suck it up. He will not be seen as weak.

Weak stars get bullied, taken advantage of, looked down upon.

Abandoned.

“Please! I—I don’t want to be alone!”

The star buried his head in his arms, closing his eyes and letting the anger boil away the ocean of sadness.

“THEIA!!! GAIA!!! STOP RIGHT NOW—” The star shrieked, screeching desperately as his two planets spun around one another. No, no they’re getting too close. What if they collide? He can’t lose them—he’s gotten so far he can’t, they can’t please—

Panic tainted Sun’s rapid breaths, blinding the star with visions, haunting voices, icy-cold terror gripping him by the throat. Please, please no his babies—they can’t—he can’t fail them again. Theia, Gaia, Hermes, Aphrodite, Ares—he loved them all so much. He can’t lose them.

Without thinking, he pushed out a frantic burst of gravity in their direction.

It was just going to get them to separate. They were too close, he was just trying to push them apart! But—

But…

“I love you Theia.”

“I love you too Gaia.”

And the two planet disappeared in a brilliant, blinding flash of light.

No no no no no no no no NO—

—NO!!!

Sun awoke with a gasp.

Something he immediately regretted as pain erupted in his chest, shooting, electric zaps choking his breaths. O-ow. Gah. What did—where is he? Where’s Gaia and Theia, are they okay? Did they survive? He has to—has to find them, he can't be alone!

The star tried to move, tried to lift his heavy head to find his beloved treasures, but he couldn’t. He only managed a twitch of his fingers, a groan slipping past his lips, before the fatigue caught up to him. 

Everything hurt. 

His surface rippled with pain, a tightness knotting in his chest that wasn’t just residue panic from the—the dream? Flashback? Memory? He didn’t know. It felt so real. Maybe it was. The star shivered, grimacing as another wave of hot, fiery pain washed through his body.

Ow. Ow. 

He wasn’t even doing anything and it still hurt. He was just lying here! Useless! And still his chest ached and spasmed with every breath and his head pounded like someone took a billion asteroids and pummeled his skull with it and his arms throbbed and his core stuttered and everything, everything it was just so—

The star whined, the sound not even registering in his foggy mind. It hurt. It was too much. Why? Why, why why? Why him? Why torture him with this constant misery? Was he really such a bad star that he deserved living in agony?

Gravity rippled around him, sending bolts of fiery pain ripping across Sun’s surface. His skin pulsed, the ache spreading everywhere—from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. It wouldn’t leave him alone. Ugh. The one time Sun wanted to be abandoned and it didn’t happen.

The star whimpered, his hazy vision blurring even further and stealing away his precious Solar System. He’s sorry. He’s sorry for being controlling and mean and not listening but please. Please he can’t do this. It hurts. He’s scared. He can’t be alone. 

Someone. Please. Anyone.

Touch—merciful, wonderful, amazing touch—brushed against the star’s cheek, answering his desperate prayers with a quiet murmur. Surprise flashed through his mind, before the star just hummed and leaned into the hands. 

They were cold. Amazingly cold against his burning surface that only seemed to get hotter by the second. No, wait the star couldn’t control his temperature. He was too weak. What if—what if they get hurt?! What if they get burned by him?

Sun whimpered and tried to pull away, trying to save the celestial from the danger, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t move and they didn’t leave. What, are they insane?! They could die! He can’t control himself and he’s a threat to those around him!

The star tried to move, but the hands followed, bringing relief wherever the touch pressed against his flushed cheeks. They said something again, but everything sounded like it was underwater, muffled and melting together into a gibberish language.

He should be better. He should be able to listen and communicate clearly.

But he can’t.

Pressure burned behind his eyes, and the star was too weak to stop it from overflowing. His shallow breaths hitched, igniting the fire blazing across his chest again. I’m sorry…he thought, chest heaving as he gasped for breath—and just cried harder when the pain followed him. The touch, frustratingly, didn’t leave…oh dear they were probably getting so wet and dirty from the star. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The hands—more touch, more hands, more pressure—pressed harder against his cheek, wiping away the tears with gentle, feather-light touch he did not deserve. “Sun…” the voice bubbled up through the vast, crushing ocean, somehow finding the drowning star and wrapping around him in a protective bubble, “Sun breathe.”

I can’t, the star tried to say, only to whine again. It hurts. Ugly, raspy gasps for air heaved in and out of his lungs, the pain striking through his chest again and again and again. Will it never end? Is this his life now? Destined to forever be hurting with no solution to his misery.

Hands wiped away the sweat (or was it tears? Probably a mix of both), a head nudging against the star’s forehead. Sun hummed at the contact, surface yearning for more of the sweet, sweet touch. A hug maybe? He would like a hug. Hugs make everything feel better. 

“Match my breathing,” the planet mumbled, the order somehow reaching Sun’s ringing ears. Oh…okay. He can try. But it won’t work very well. Air blew against his face, cooling his warm cheeks as the person breathed in. And held it. 

The star followed after a second, his own breaths shallow and yet it still brought pain along with it. He pushed past it, ignored the agony lashing through his chest, because he didn’t want to upset the person by not listening to them! That’s what Earth had told him to do to be better. Listen. And follow what people say.

And he wants to be better. He’s trying so hard to be better.

“That’s it…” the hands tapped his cheeks, rubbing circles in the flushed skin. The star sighed, the cool touch bringing small amounts of relief to his aching body. “Now breathe out—good!”

Good…

He did good? The star did good? Finally? He didn’t fail! Sun was worth something!

Sun took another, shaky breath in, it quickly turning to a pant as it got harder to ignore the pain. He wanted to do good, he really did, but it hurt too much and he couldn’t just suck it up anymore. Being in pain was all he could think about—and even thinking hurt too! 

Sun whined, his core flip-flopping in agony, fear rising up his throat to take control next. Oh stars, was he dying? Is this was that is? Is that why everything hurts so much? But then the others—his planets, his babies—they have to get away. They’ll get hurt. And—and he can’t let that happen. 

“I know it hurts, Sun, I know,” the voice muttered, clearer despite the panic raging throughout the star’s mind. Yes. Yes it hurts so much. Make it stop please. “We have a plan, but you’re going to have to trust me, okay?”

Sun hummed in agreement, his throat protesting even that little sound. Ow, ow, ow!

The voice hardened into something more serious, throwing the star off, “I need you to look at me, Sun.”

…

Hmm…really? Did he really have to? He barely had enough energy to keep up with this conversation (and even then it was one-sided! He was just listening!), let alone open his eyes. His head ached and throbbed, reminding Sun of the massive headache rattling his skull.

He really didn’t want to open his eyes.

But what he wants doesn’t matter. His planets are important. They matter. Whatever they want, Sun will always give them.

And so Sun, bracing like he was about to collide with another star, peeled open his eyes.

He instantly regretted it—dizziness slamming into the the star as he gasped, swallowing down the sudden, rising nausea that threatened to burst out. Sharp, angry, fiery knives stabbed his brain, momentarily blinding his vision as Sun whined and hissed and groaned and made every other pained sound.

His head lolled to the side, and he almost clenched his eyes shut again, but a hand cupped his cheeks. A small, steady, gentle yet calloused hand that reeled the star’s drifting mind back under control. Sun blinked, and blinked again, squinting past the pain and the blurriness and the dark spots dotting his vision to see…

Jupiter.

His eldest smiled at him when the star finally managed to meet his gaze, those tired eyes holding the universe’s worst eye bags…not like Sun looked any better. Love blossomed in Sun’s core, fighting back against the fear and the pain threatening to drown him, Jupiter’s face acting like a flotation device thingy in the vast, dark waters the star was trapped in.

“J-Ju—” Sun tried, his voice dying in his throat before he could get a word out. Ugh. Tears brimmed at the edges of the star’s vision, blurring his vision, and yet Jupiter stayed in focus. 

Jupiter stayed.

The planet nodded, body trembling as he leaned into Sun’s face, “Good. Thank you.” Jupiter sniffed, rubbing his eyes as he looked to the side— somewhere out of Sun’s direct line of vision. “Earth! We’re ready now.”

“Alrighty!” Came the reply, the voice bringing even more relief to Sun’s battered body, “We have everyone, right?” Voices continued to say stuff back and forth, but Sun just breathed out another, rattling sigh. Oh thank the stars Earth was okay. Sun didn’t have time to fully check in on the planet before—before he fell asleep? Was that what it was? He still felt beyond exhausted though…

Sudden gravity expanded around the star, and he bit back a pained cry as it pressed against every aching, hurting part of his body. Gravity, gravity...oh! It took Sun an embarrassingly long amount of time to realize that the big mound of gravity he was feeling was actually just a bunch of smaller gravities put together.

His planets. His moons and dwarf planets and—

But they weren’t his anymore. 

The planets. The moons and dwarf planets. Everyone was here. Alive. If Sun could move, he would’ve reached down to run a hand along his arms just to double check. If he could move, he would’ve pressed loving kisses into each and every one of their foreheads and brought them all together in his arms and he would apologize, one by one, to all the celestials present.

But he couldn’t.

And so he just cried harder.

“Sun?” Jupiter’s attention was drawn back to the star (selfish, selfish, selfish, always hoarding everything and never giving anything back in return), his cute little eyebrows squished together in worry. “Hey…” the planet’s voice rumbled like thunder, wiping away the tears streaming down the star’s face, “Hey, it’s going to be okay. Just look at me.” 

Sun sniffled, a wet and pathetic sound, body trembling with each shaky breath he sucked in, but his eyes still found Jupiter’s electric blue gaze. Jupiter planet leaned in, until the planet overtook his vision and he was the only thing Sun could see. “That’s it, just look at me,” he murmured, nodding to someone Sun couldn’t see, “Match my breathing. Don’t be scared.”

Don’t be scared? Why, was there something that—

In an instant, Sun was falling. He didn’t even have a chance to scream, the breaths ripped right from his throat. He was helpless. He couldn’t move—down, down, down he went, shrinking dizzyingly fast as everything spun faster and faster and faster.

And suddenly he was lying down against something cold.

The star shivered, the frigid air wonderful against his feverish skin—but how could he be cold? He was a star! They were bright and hot and never stopped burning. It didn’t make sense. 

Nothing made sense anymore.

“Sun?” A voice floated in through his ringing ears, and the star just grunted in response. Yes. That’s him. What do you want? He would love it if he could just fall asleep here. It’s cold. He likes it. Leave him just like everyone else has left him. 

Frustratingly, they could not read his mind and did not do such things.

“Sun,” the voice said, more insistent this time as they poked Sun. Hm? Gasp! How dare they poke him like some stray asteroid. He’s perfectly alive, thank you very much.

At least…he’s pretty sure he’s not dead. Eh, who knows these days.

Wherever Sun’s train of thought was going next, it was derailed as hands brushed against his skin, the star letting out a whine as everywhere they went, pain followed. The few seconds of wonderful, painless bliss he had disappeared, the same fiery agony bursting into existence across his body.

Sun didn’t even have the energy to cry, just closing his eyes and begging the universe for mercy.

It didn’t listen. The pain continued ravaging his body, the mighty star struck down by the dizziness that titled the world. Even though he was lying down, it still felt like everything was swaying, crushing the star against the ground with huge, heavy weights.

A quick apology was whispered in his ears, and then the world really was swaying. Arms wrapped around him, pulling the star up, up, up, bringing his head all the way up to the fuzzy clouds fogging his mind. He tried to be helpful but he couldn’t move very well, and just wiggled around in the person’s hold.

“Shh,” Jupiter murmured, adjusting the star so he was a little more comfortable. His head lolled against Jupiter’s chest, incoherent mumbles spilling from Sun’s chapped lips. Hmm, this was nice. The world still spun and nausea still crawled higher up his throat and his body still screamed with every slight movement, but if he closed his eyes and let his fuzzy mind drift away from the pain, it wasn’t so bad.

Voices followed the two, but his hearing was failing him, turning all mushy and muffled as the star just clung to the sound of breathing coming from above him. He curled further into the hold, body wracking with another, ice-cold shiver, fiery pain raging after. A hand carded through his greasy, matted hair, eliciting a content hum from the star as it shielded him from the mean, outside world.

His half-lidded eyes fluttered open with a shaky gasp as the arms carefully lowered the star down, down, down, lying the fragile being down on a…a soft surface wow was this comfortable. Exhaustion tugged on his eye-lids, his vision slowly fading as his body took the first opportunity to run back into the blissful darkness.

The touch returned, dipping the side of the bed and brushing a sweaty strand of hair out of his eyes. Sun just stared, hazy vision focusing in on the pink curls and the slight stubble and the deep eye-bags, memorizing every part of Jupiter’s face just in case this was it. If Sun really was dying, he wanted this to be the last thing he saw.

“Rest…” Jupiter hummed, the hitching breath and pained expression lost to the star as he just relished the sound of the planet’s voice. What did he want the star to do? Rest? 

…hmm, okay. He can do that.

Sun breathed out one, last rattling sigh—his eyes slipping shut before the pain could follow. As if the strings holding him up snapped, the star melted into the pillows, the darkness reaching up, surrounding the star and pulling him away from the light. 

Wait, wait no—don’t leave me! Sun pleaded with the last remnants of consciousness, suddenly regretting his decision. Please, please. I don’t want to be alone.

The darkness swallowed Sun before he got an answer, plunging the panicked star into the vast nothingness of his unconscious mind as everything…faded………away…………..