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Neptune didn't know what to think anymore.
He'd thought he'd known everything! He knew how other people worked, what made them tick, he and could at least recognize patterns in other people's behaviors. They were predictable. They would do one thing or the other, following a strict path and never deviating from it—like math!
It had made sense before. It had made so much sense before; before Planet X came back and Jupiter got exiled and Sun finally lost it, he could rely on that inherent sense to tell him all he needed to know about the people around him.
For example: Uranus would do anything he could to be noticed and loved by the gas giants (which Neptune couldn't help but wonder, was he not enough for his cousin?), Saturn said he loved everyone equally, but he accidentally became far too obsessed with himself and Jupiter to pay attention to anyone else, and Sun…
Well it's safe to say that Sun had a lot going on.
He was an unstable, volatile star that could lash out at any given moment, and most of the memories the Ice Giant had of him were…not the best. Wild, raging solarflares, unbearable heat, booming roars reaching even the far reaches of Neptune's orbit. He always tried to believe in the best of everyone, but even Neptune knew it was silly to try to hope for a change.
(There was a time. A long, long time ago where the star shined with unbridled love and showered his planets with adoration. A time before grief swallowed Sun whole and he became paranoid and controlling. A time filled with so much happiness that they didn't know what to do with it all.
But that hopeful era died with Proto and Theia.)
And that's how it stayed.
The Solar System lived in that chaotic world, healing from the last explosive outburst and bracing for the next. Nobody tried to change it because it was impossible! The Sun was in charge, he ruled the system, and it was fruitless to try to fight a being that held 99.8% of the Solar System's mass!
Nothing could change.
But…
But apparently Neptune was wrong.
Everything that he’d thought he knew—about outside the Solar System, his friends, his family, Sun—it was all a lie. False. Wrong. Left was right, up was down, and nothing made sense anymore.
Sun could change—Sun did change, and left the evidence of it right in front of them! Everyone was alive and together again, all thanks to Sun fighting so hard to get them back.
But how did Sun change so quickly? How did he go from that screaming mess they left behind, to the loving star of Neptune’s dreams?
It didn’t make sense.
Neptune stared up at the ceiling, eyebrows knotted together as he mulled over everything that had happened. It didn’t make sense! It wasn’t fair! How could Sun change so suddenly? After billions of years of hurting everyone and neglecting them (Neptune wasn’t stupid. Insane maybe, but not dumb. He’s seen first hand what happened when Sun lost his temper), what changed to make Sun do a 180?
He knew it was selfish to be angry. He didn’t even know why he was angry in the first place. He had his moons and Uranus and the Gas Giants and they were finally able to be together down here, but it just—it just…
It didn’t seem right.
A breath of air billowed out in front of him—his room icy cold, just how he liked it—Neptune shivering under the covers. Why couldn’t he enjoy this? Everyone else was, or they were at least making the most out of the situation. Why couldn’t he accept this as the new norm?
What was so wrong with him that he couldn’t feel happy that everything was going back to normal? No, no, not even normal—a better normal, Earth had said, one where everyone will be happy and has a Sun that is everything the previous star wasn’t.
Why didn’t he want that?
Neptune chewed on his lip, teeth digging into the soft skin until he tasted blood. His heart clenched tighter with some unseen fear, and Neptune would really appreciate it if it could reveal itself soon. The constant feeling of being afraid all the time for no reason was only amplified down on Earth’s surface (not like that was Earth’s fault, no, no it was just another way Neptune was broken), intensifying all the other confusing feelings until they became too much to handle.
He didn’t want it to get too much. Things were supposed to be getting better—
So why did Neptune still feel so horrible?
It frustrated the little planet to no ends, and normally he would try to psychoanalyze himself to figure out what new thing was wrong with him this time, but right now? Good luck, the thoughts swirling through his mind moved far too fast to even try to stop to think about them.
He was sad. Angry. Scared—terrified even. Feelings he didn’t like feeling bubbling back up after a millennia unseen.
And most of all, the overwhelming guilt returned, mulling over the fact that he couldn’t be happy everything turned out okay.
Emotions swelled in his chest, overwhelming the Ice Giant and pushing against the walls he’d stubbornly built up after billions of years of hiding his emotions. Nobody could see. Nobody could know. If they knew, then they get worried, and Neptune never wanted to burden anyone with his issues.
But he was so scared.
He didn’t like thinking this way. He didn’t like feeling angry—Sun didn’t deserve that. Neptune knew how much the star tried to love them and how hard it was after going through so much loss and grief, and now? After Sun rescued all of them from the darkness and kept suffering for them (the evidence of which in the room at the end of the hall, with the pale, fragile human lying in bed), Neptune’s angry at him?
Wow.
He might be worse than SIMP.
Neptune sucked in a sharp, shuddering breath, lungs burning at the sudden inhale. Let it burn. Let him burn. If he’s anything like SIMP he deserves the pain. What the heck was wrong with him?! What, could he not internalize his feelings enough so he had to take it out on those around him? You’re better than that Neptune.
You need to be better.
What have you done since you got down here? You took two shifts of watching over Sun—that’s nothing compared to Jupiter and Saturn who spend every waking moment (which was all of their moments ‘cause they never slept) by the star’s side. Have you gone out for a supply run? Have you babysat and taken care of the little moons? Have you done anything useful besides staring at the ceiling and rotting in bed?
No.
He hasn’t.
He couldn’t even get out of bed properly, he’s just lying here, wallowing in misery and listening to the voices of normal, happy people going about their day. What time was it? How long had it been since Triton left?
...
“I’m going out with some of the other major moons. We’ll be back before dinner. I…I uhh heard Saturn made something called a “pancake.” Sounds dumb but smells not half bad, seems like something you would like. Anyways, bye Neptune. See you later.”
“Bye Triton.”
Pancakes…
Pancakes.
He should be getting up and joining everyone. It’s the least he can do instead of sinking deeper into this funk. It was a silly thing to be upset over anyways. Neptune just needed to get over it, and he’ll be fine. Stop being so dramatic, it’s not that bad. Be thankful for what you have, Neptune.
Get up, Neptune.
He willed his limbs to move—to do anything except stay pinned to his side, trapped underneath the covers…
But they didn’t.
Because Neptune could never do anything right.
Heat burned behind his eyes, contrasting the chill of his room so much it brought another shiver running down his spine. His chest tightened forever more, heart beating faster, thoughts racing faster, emotions swelling faster, and yet he didn’t move. Internally, he was a storm, dark, angry clouds dumping torrential rains and harsh winds whipping it to and fro, chaos running rampant and unchecked.
It was pure, unbridled entropy.
And yet, outside, he was a statue. Frozen in place, with the twitch of his fingers and the blinking of his eyes moving so slow he was probably imagining it. So slow, that he blinked, and then his body followed, a strange lag between his mind and the outside world.
Sadness mixed with anger rang in his heart, reminding Neptune why he was upset in the first place.
I’m sorry, Neptune managed to think, drawing enough energy to nail down one singular thought from the mess of his mind. He willed his words to reach the star. I’m sorry for being mean, I’m sorry for being angry at you, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I love you. Don’t hate me. I’m scared and confused. Please wake up soon. I miss you.
And with that final message, the storm picked it up and ripped it from his fingertips, leaving Neptune staring up at the ceiling and thinking.
Just thinking.
Like all he ever does.
“Neptune, are you in here?”
...hm?
The planet stirred, the voice sounding so very far away to his ears. Is he here? Where is he again? He’s in…his orbit? No, no that’s not right. Everything’s too tangible to be in space.
“We came back early,” the voice continued, getting louder as it floated closer to him, “Ganymede got in a fight with some random kid and got his ass kicked so we had to head back. It’s karma if you ask me.” Ganymede…the name rang familiar in his mind, and yet he couldn’t picture the face—in fact, the voice held a recognizable edge to it the planet couldn’t quite place.
That was slightly worrying.
If he could just move his heavy head, he could see who it was. All his problems would be solved and he wouldn’t have to worry anyone because he was worrying about worrying about—what was he thinking about again?
Hm.
He doesn’t remember.
It probably wasn’t important.
“…Neptune?”
The bed dipped, causing the planet to slide along with it, and he just let it happen. He didn’t think he could move if he wanted to—it was almost as if locked in a trance or some sort of cursed staring contest with the ceiling.
He was winning. He didn’t remember the last time he blinked.
Blinking—moving—was impossible. A distant dream. Weights crushed his form, keeping him chained to the bed, and severing the connection between mind and body, pushing Neptune out of his own brain to hover above himself.
…was he a ghost?
Or no, was this some sort of dream? Yeah, yeah that makes more sense. He was still dreaming. That’s why everything felt so far away. It wasn’t real.
He wasn’t real.
“—tune? Are you sick?” Something brushed against his cheeks, cold and soft, and yet hot and rough at the same time, skin tingling where the touch pressed against him. Something told him he should be responding. It’s rude to ignore someone when they’re talking to you.
He tried to make a sound, but his mouth stayed glued shut, throat filled with molasses and blocking out any sort of noise. Huh. Weird. But he was always the weird one, so that tracks. He was always the one who couldn’t understand something, that took a little too long to process things, the one with the broken brain that could never be normal.
The darkness of the room seemed to wrap around the little planet, pulling him further from his own body to drift amongst the foggy clouds. Memories melded together into a static mess, and Neptune didn’t fight it.
This was his life. He’s lost his mind enough times to recognize the warning signs. The world gets too overwhelming, so he just hides in his own mind until the storm passes.
He’s a coward.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the room warp around a figure hovering at the side of the bed. He didn’t dare take his eyes off the ceiling (he couldn’t), but the shadows moving in his peripheral told him the person was floating away.
“Stay here. I’m getting Saturn.”
The Ice Giant mourned the feeling of company as the presence dipped out of the room, one of the few feelings that got through the thick wall of nothingness suffocating the pathetic planet. Numbness spread to every inch of his body, pushing his eyes further back into his skull until he could feel them.
He could feel his eyes. He could feel everything. And yet nothing. Hyperaware and yet detached at the same time.
What fun!
Footsteps echoed through the house, reaching his ears and just echoing even more in his head. Like a pingpong ball. Bouncing back and forth until it slowed down enough for him to register what it was. The guilt reappeared for a split second—long enough for him to realize he’s burdening everyone with his issues again, but too short to do anything about it.
Useless. Dumb. Dimwit.
The creaking of the door interrupted his self-hatred spiral, a sliver of light casting long, dancing shadows through the room. The light hurt his eyes, and yet the planet just blinked past it. Blinking. The only thing he seemed to be able to do.
“Neptune?” A different voice spoke this time, softer than the previous one and holding a tight, worried edge to it, “What’s wrong, sweetie?” The new voice brought warmness fluttering in his chest…only to be washed away by the icy cold dread.
No...no please he couldn’t let them see. They have to be happy, and his problems will only make them sad. And then it would be his fault they’re upset.
So he’s fine. 100% a-okay! No problems here, no way, no how!
“Oh Neptune…” robes swished in front of his view, the little bit of light leaking through the door outlining the brilliant, golden-brown hair framing the face contorted in a worried expression, “I’m here now. It’s okay.” The planet’s chest tightened, guilt gnawing at the edges of his fuzzy mind as a ringed hand cupped his cheek.
He still couldn’t get his eyes to focus, blurry vision doubling and staring off into the space above the other person’s head. Something moved in his peripheral, a figure ducking out of the door, but he was too tired to think more about what that meant. It was easier to be nothing than fight to be something. He’s so tired. If this was a dream, how was he tired? Ugh, nothing felt real and he still had to feel exhausted?
Good. He deserved to suffer. He couldn’t remember why, exactly, but the anger and frustration and self-hatred buzzing in his ears was enough to convince him he did something awful.
“Neptune?” A hand cut through his vision, waving in front of his face, each movement lagging behind the next like it the frame rate of a video was turned allll the way down, “Look at me, please?” He blinked, slow and sluggish, half-lidded eyes fluttering open with far too much effort for something so simple.
The hand against his cheek gently tilted his head, allowing it to loll to the side and limply press into the pillow. His unfocused vision narrowed, sharpening for a moment to meet Saturn’s golden eyes.
Saturn’s expression softened as Neptune just blankly stared , cracking a small smile that did nothing to hide the worry shimmering in his eyes. “There you go,” he murmured, brushing a strand of sweaty hair from the smaller’s eyes, “Hello Neptune.”
Neptune opened his mouth to reply, but instead of coherent words, all he managed to make was a pathetic, warbled whimper. His voice wobbled, hitching just like his labored breath, the heavy—so, so, so heavy—weights crushing his chest making it even harder to breathe than normal.
A flicker of something Neptune really didn’t like flashed across Saturn’s face, but the ringed planet didn’t say anything. One hand stayed by his face, cradling his cheek and wiping away the beginnings of tears, while the other slipped down to squeeze his hand. Emotions swelled underneath his chest, flip-flopping his heart as it rose up his throat and he released another sad sound.
Saturn hummed, rising from his knees to slide on the side of the bed, strands of golden hair falling into his face and hiding the pain in his eyes. Feather-light touch pressed into his forehead, and even if it still felt so alien, Neptune couldn’t help but lean into it with a quiet hum.
“Hmm…you don’t feel hot,” Saturn mumbled to himself, hands moving to card through the little planet’s hair, scratching his scalp in a way that brought a shiver of delight running down his spine—a stark contrast to the rest of the misery holding him hostage. “Do you feel sick, dear? Is anything hurting?”
No.
And that’s the problem.
Nothing’s hurting because he feels nothing. He should be feeling something; everyone had at least some leftover orbital sickness, let alone the injuries they sustained while venturing out to the unknown (and facing those…things. Horrible, terrifying things that never knew love and were filled with greed and hate), and Neptune himself wasn’t excluded from that.
But he’s not hurting. He’s not sick—at least not physically. It’s all an invisible pain, locked away in his own mind as it eats him from the inside out.
There’s no remedy for what’s wrong with him.
“Hey—hey, no, sweetie it’s okay,” Saturn shushed, voice pitching higher, thumbs wiping away the hot tears starting to spill down the smaller’s cheeks. He loved Saturn, he really did, but there’s no way to fix him. No amount of band-aids or medicine or healing powers could make him better. He’s been broken since the dawn of time.
It’s impossible to fix him.
Tears leaked from his eyes, blurring his vision and staining the pillow beneath him. A helpless, desperate feeling clenched in his chest, holding onto the silly hope that what was wrong with him could be undone.
Never. It would never happen. He’s stuck like this forever.
Not even becoming human could help him escape it.
He was cursed to forever be broken—a malfunction! Why’d he ever think it could get better? Not for him. Everyone else gets to live out their happiest lives, frolicking where the grass is greener and the clouds are fluffy, while he watches from his dark corner and sinks deeper into the lonely misery.
And now he’s dragging Saturn down with him.
“…m’ sorry,” Neptune choked out, chest heaving in another, wracking sob. A shuddering breath ripped through his lips, leaving the planet gasping for breath, struggling to breathe above the dark, stormy waters, “N-no I’m—you have to leave.” He never should’ve agreed to come down here. If he’d just stayed up in his orbit, then nobody would have to see this and everyone would be much, much happier. Without Neptune.
Without Neptune, they would flourish.
With him, they would wither and die in the darkness.
Without warning, fingers suddenly dug into his shoulders, lifting Neptune up from the bed effortlessly—like there weren’t any weights attached to him at all!—and into a the lap of someone much bigger than him. Arms wrapped tightly around the Ice Giant, pressing the teary, snot-filled face into the other’s chest as he trembled uncontrollably with every sob. An ugly feeling twisted his heart, knotting it together and stealing away his breaths, the planet sucking in sharp, hitching gasps for air.
Neptune hiccuped with another cry, hating this and loving it at the same time. Saturn’s arms tightened, squeezing the tiny planet like if he squeezed hard enough, all the bad, icky feelings would pop right out of him.
Misery practically choked the tiny planet, clawing up his throat and ripping through his chest with another pathetic, mewling cry, “I—I—I’m sorry—”
“Nuh uh. None of that.” A finger pressed against his lips, silencing the blubbery mess of a rant he was about to go on with a quiet shush. The arms squeezed him tighter, and Saturn pressed another, gentle kiss to his forehead that held so much love Neptune didn’t deserve. “You have nothing to apologize for,” he murmured, rubbing circles in the smaller’s back.
Neptune shook his head, because no, no he did. There was so much in needing of apologizing for: not listening to Sun, failing to keep everyone together, somehow being mad at Sun right now, burdening Saturn with his problems—the guilt kept destroying him and he needed to let someone know he’s sorry.
He swallowed past the lump in his throat, ducking away from Saturn’s patient, loving gaze, “I—hiccup—h-have to.”
“And why is that?” Saturn hummed…and oh he really didn’t know huh? Saturn really didn’t know of all the harm he’s caused? Of the hate and anger rolling around in his heart? If he did…would he still stay?
Would he still love Neptune?
(Silly question. Nobody could love Neptune. He’d learned that truth a long time ago.)
Neptune sniffled wetly, sucking in a shuddering breath and clenching shut his eyes. His heart ached the way it always did when it knew something bad was going to happen—something inevitable.
“Because…” he held his breath, leaning away from the other’s embrace, “Because I’m a monster!” He bit back a broken wail, shoulders wracking as he continued, “I’m a—a horrible person! I’m hurting you and Sun and—”
“Who says that?” Saturn’s voice held none of the malice he expected, instead it wavered slightly with a sad edge to it, but still he stayed so patient. Fingers ran through Neptune’s hair, the arms pulling him back into the warm, crushing embrace.
“You haven’t hurt anyone, Neptune,” Saturn whispered quietly, and Neptune couldn’t help but cry harder into the crook of his neck. He doesn’t deserve this. He’s said too much already. Can the ground open up and swallow him whole now?
Saturn’s voice vibrated in his ears, low and soft and so, so loving for talking to someone like Neptune, “And if you did, we would tell you. Trust me, sweetie, you’re not a horrible person, and certainly not a monster—stars above where’d you get that from?”
Neptune deflated with a shuddering sigh, crackling voice barely above a murmur, “I…I’m angry.” After a second he added, even quieter, “…at Sun.”
“Oh?” Saturn said simply, and Neptune braced for the yelling or...or the anger at Neptune because he was angry at Sun—who did not deserve it, seriously what is wrong with him to be mad at someone who sacrificed everything for them—
“…I’m angry too.”
…
What?
Neptune sniffled, wiping his teary eyes with the back of his hand and stared at Saturn like he grew three heads. He tilted his head, confusion clouding his already foggy mind. But—but that made no sense. Saturn? Angry?
Saturn must’ve seen the incredulous look plastered across his face, because he chuckled softly and continued talking. “Mhm,” he nodded, cupping Neptune’s cheek and tilting his head higher to look him in the eyes, “I know, it sounds impossible, right? But I wouldn’t lie to you Neptune.”
Neptune just stared dumbly at the bigger one, not sure what to think as Saturn sighed, shoulders dropping and deflating like a balloon , suddenly looking many years older than he was. The bigger planet looked off to the side, his voice dropped a level and getting so quiet Neptune had to strain to listen, “I…I’m angry that it took this long to get something to change—and that this is how it happened. I’m angry at Sun for not telling us sooner and at Jupiter for accepting SIMP’s deal so quickly and at myself for giving up so easily, but—” he swung his gaze back to Neptune, golden eyes sparkling with tears, “I would never call you a monster for having strong feelings.”
His voice got stronger, the loving intensity returning to his eyes, “Because that’s a normal thing to feel, especially after all we’ve been through. You can be angry, sad, happy, whatever, but please don’t treat yourself badly for feeling strong emotions, okay?” Saturn reached out, and Neptune didn’t fight him as the bigger pulled him into a hug , wrapping his arms around him like a protective bubble. “It’s a natural thing,” Saturn mumbled, his golden hair tickling Neptune’s face, “…and we still love you.”
Oh.
Oh.
“…okay,” Neptune squeaked out, his throat thick with overwhelming emotion. The pressure behind his eyes burned, and this time he didn’t fight it, letting the tears spill down his cheeks and stain Saturn’s clothes. He shuddered, gasping for breath and trembling with more sobs, but Saturn didn’t seem to care.
“That’s it,” Saturn murmured, his hands tangling in Neptune’s curls and letting the smaller cry all over him, “Let it all out.” The soft touch sent shivers down his back, and Neptune instinctively leaned into the touch with a crackly hum of his own. His eyes ached, the precursor to a headache already wrapping around his head, but Neptune couldn’t care less.
It felt good to cry.
He’d never thought he’d say that, because crying was bad and horrible and he could never be vulnerable because he was everyone else’s shoulder to cry on…but it was true. The storm of misery seemed to fade away, like it was leaking from his body with all the tears, leaving him feeling…light. Strangely happy, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
Instead of forcing himself to stop, he let the tears run its course.
…and stars he felt so free.
“Ma—Saturn?” Neptune hesitantly spoke up after some time of crying, cringing at his raw voice. Eugh. Great. His eyes are probably all puffy and red too, that’s gonna be a nightmare to try to hide from the little ones, let alone Uranus or Triton, who both always seemed to know everything going on with him.
(Maybe he didn’t need to hide this time…)
“Hm?” Saturn stirred, a yawn slipping past—one Neptune copied right after, “Yes, Neptune?”
The little planet nuzzled against the bigger’s chest, a warm, fluffy feeling blooming in his chest as Saturn pressed a kiss to his curls and squeezed him tighter. He chewed on his lip, cheeks heating up in an embarrassed flush, “…thank you."
Saturn scratched behind Neptune’s ear, eliciting a happy sound from the smaller one, “Of course dear. Anytime.” A smile cracked across Neptune’s face, the residue sadness ebbing away as he melted against Saturn’s chest. Before he could wrangle it back, his mouth opened in a biggg yawn, a sleepy sound following after.
“Hmm…” Saturn’s voice rumbled in his chest, mixing with his heartbeat to make fun sounds. Neptune shifted slightly, craning his neck to blink up at the other slowly, exhaustion tugging down his half-lidded eyes. Saturn met his eyes with a warm smile, eyes softening with a quiet laugh, “Is it nap time?”
Neptune perked up, his eyes widening with a sudden nod. Oh yes, a nap sounded great right about now. The fatigue from crying mixed with the exhaustion from everything else and the still-kinda-feeling-like-in-a-dream feeling (along with the dim lighting of the room, and the fact Neptune was still in his pajamas…a fact he just now realized), set him up for the perfect nap.
“Great,” Saturn grinned warmly, scooting back to lean against the wall. He relaxed, and then Neptune quickly followed suite, any leftover tension leaking from his body and leaving him feeling like spaghetti—loose and limp, relaxed in a way that only Saturn could get out of him.
He was safe. And happy. And loved.
And everything was going to be okay.