★彡[ᴄᴀʟᴏʀɪꜱ ᴘʟᴀɴɪᴛɪᴀ]彡★

☾☉☉☉☽

“Is it really okay for me to ride with you?” Cupid asks, hands clasped behind his back as he trails behind Sao, adorning a permanent smile.

“It should be fine,” Sao replies. Pandora had briefed him earlier on the change of plans. Sao didn’t argue, welcoming Cupid without a word. “The Kuiper Belt is more manual than the newer ships, so…

“It should be fine,” Sao replies. Pandora had briefed him earlier on the change of plans. Sao didn’t argue, welcoming Cupid without a word. “The Kuiper Belt is more manual than the newer ships, so…”

Newer ships are all about coming into a new body, becoming one with the ship itself. Thus, it was difficult—dangerous even—to cram two or more people into the same metallic shell.

But the Kuiper Belt isn’t like that. It isn’t the same. The Kuiper Belt is not a new body to keep, its calculations to be made. It’s about switching the right lever at the right time and pressing specific buttons in a specific order and making exact, perfected movements as you steer. It’s okay for two people to ride as long as the pilot knew what he was doing.

“I wasn’t referring to that. I knew that already—that it’ll be safe,” Cupid says. Sao cringes, because duh, Cupid’s job was to make the damn things, of course Cupid already knew. “I meant do you really not mind me tagging along?”

Sao feels restless. His first instinct is to flee: it’s a familiar urge, one he’s putting extra effort into repressing (not fully; never fully). He doesn’t want to be stuck with Cupid—he doesn’t dislike Cupid or anything like that. He just feels… scared? Nervous? Insecure? He can’t explain it and he doesn’t want to try because the words at the tip of his tongue feel silly and he doesn’t want to embarrass himself any further.

“I don’t mind,” Sao lies. What’s the point in telling the truth? He could hate Cupid more than anything else in the galaxy but that wouldn’t stop Pandora from shoving them together to answer her beck and call. “I’m happy to have the company.”

“I’m glad,” Cupid says.

You… are a terrible liar.

Sao ducks as he enters his ship and Cupid follows him in. Its interior is the same purplish-black as its exterior—it’s like Cupid is being sucked into a dark void. The Kuiper Belt’s violet control panels are hard to see, and he has to squint to make out the pilot’s seat made of torn leather.

“I’m sorry there isn’t another chair,” Sao mutters.

“You don’t need to apologize! It’s a short trip, anyways. I don’t need one,” Cupid responds.

Sao sits and Cupid hovers in the background. Sao hates this: the feeling of being watched. His arm tremors as he reaches a hand out, flicking a switch. Can’t Cupid look anywhere else? (Is Cupid even looking at him? Or is he imagining it? Why is he like this?)

The Kuiper Belt makes a dreadful noise as it stirs, coming to life. “It won’t break,” Sao reassures. He cannot see Cupid (and he doesn’t make the effort to) but anyone would be concerned if they heard the sounds this ship makes. “It’s lasted this long.”

“I trust you. I won’t worry about it,” Cupid says. “But now you’ve made me even more curious! The Kuiper Belt is teetering on the brink of instability and the Kraken Mare was yours to take. It’s this bad so… why did you refuse?”

Sao shuffles his foot. “…Are you offended that I won’t pilot the ship you worked so hard to make?”

“Maybe a little,” Cupid says. “And that didn’t answer my question. Even when you’re stuck in a ship with me, you still run away. How’s that fair?”

“It’s second nature. I’m sorry.”

“If you’re sorry, don’t do it.”

Cupid places a hand on Sao’s shoulder, gentle. Sao shrugs him off.

That kind of touch makes Sao want to throw up.

“I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable, you know? I’m not trying to be a bully. I don’t want to be the bad guy.” I know. “I really am curious!” I know. “But I also think talking about it will be good for you. You look so miserable all the time. You must be bottling a lot of things up. Are you okay?”

Where could he possibly escape to? There isn’t anywhere to go. Besides, there’s something about Cupid—something that compels him to stay put. “Sometimes I am, sometimes I’m not.” Nausea washes over him like a rush of water. “The same as anyone else.”

“What about right now?”

Sao chooses to disregard Cupid. “We’re almost there,” he says instead.

“Aw, don’t be like that!” Cupid replies. “You still haven’t answered my first question.”

“I rejected the Kraken Mare for a lot of reasons.” …Did he have to share every single one in order for Cupid to be satisfied? No way… “I don’t deserve it. What have I done to earn the best mecha in the universe? Nothing. It should go to someone like Saturn or Caju. I couldn’t pilot it anyways. I don’t understand why everyone thinks I can. It’s too complicated for me. I’d crash it over and over. Even if I could learn how to pilot it—I can’t—that’d just stress the hell out of me. I’m perfectly content with the ship I already have.”

“Thank you,” Cupid says, “for sharing. Have you told anyone that before? Do you feel better admitting it out loud?”

Sao doesn’t know and doesn’t want to dwell on it. “Have you been to Mercury before?”

Cupid knows Sao is running away again—you don’t have to be a genius to know that—but he decides he’ll play along regardless. “I don’t think so. I don’t remember.” He sighs. It’s wistful. “I’ve spent most of my time on Earth or on Neptune. I didn’t get to visit all the planets like you.” Maybe that’s why I’m willing to give humanity another chance, he thinks. I’m not as attached to space. Not like Saturn.

Sao hopes this is not Cupid’s first visit—because seeing the Mercurian Colony for the first time and then destroying it immediately after sounds too cruel.

Like Cupid said, the trip to Mercury is short, and in no time at all, the Kuiper Belt is landing inside Caloris Planitia: a large crater surrounded by a border of mountains, in which part of the Colony is placed. (The rest of the Colony is beyond the crater, spread throughout Mercury’s plains).

Every road the two stroll down is the same shade as Mercury’s surface. Unlike Mercury, though, the man-made pathways are eerily smooth, not yet scarred. As for the houses in the Mercurian Colony, they are rectangular and monochromatic: black or white. The roofs are flat or slanted, never triangular, and there aren’t many windows—the windows that do exist come with blinds and curtains so that any hypothetical residents could block out the blindingly strong sunlight.

The entire planet is grayscale, void of color. Sao likes the simplicity of it.

Cupid decides that it does feel familiar: it’s just as dull as the communications rooms on Earth.

“Caju misses you, by the way,” Cupid says, and Sao almost jumps, because he had gotten used to their shared silence. “You haven’t even been gone that long! I’m envious that you have someone who cares that much. Do you miss him, too?”

Saying “yes” is too honest, and saying anything else is too dishonest, so Sao says nothing at all.

“He must like you a lot!” Cupid continues, looking away thoughtfully. “Actually, there’s a lot of boys who like you. Have you noticed? Besides Caju, there’s Saturn, and—"

“How do you know about Saturn?”

“Saturn flirts with everyone.” Cupid knows that for a fact! “Of course he’d chase after you.”

“Okay?” Sao says.

“I’m surprised you haven’t let yourself get caught yet! …People get tired, Sao. They won’t keep chasing you forever.” That’s fine, Sao thinks. I don’t expect them to. “You’ll end up all alone. You don’t really want that, do you?”

Sao is struck with frustration (not anger; never anger). “Am I that pitiful to you that you feel the need to give me unsolicited advice?”

“We’re friends, aren’t we? Am I not allowed to help you?”

No. “I guess,” Sao concedes. Not unless I ask for help first. Rather than say it aloud, Sao keeps his mouth shut, turning away. He didn’t come to Mercury to chat or to argue, so he’ll act like Cupid isn’t there.

Things go by faster that way—at least, that’s what Sao is trying to convince himself of. (Things do not go by faster. Exploring the Mercurian Colony alongside Cupid is painstakingly, awkwardly slow).

(Cupid doesn’t feel the same. He’s used to being ignored! How could he feel awkward?)

Soon, the easy part is over, and they’re returning to the Kuiper Belt, ready to start the destruction of the Colony, or at least, as ready as they’ll ever be, which is hardly ready at all. Sao will never adapt to this, and Cupid has yet to experience it, and both of them want to stop before they begin. But that isn’t an option.

—No, it is an option. Cupid didn’t have to do this if he joined Saturn.

That’s the obvious answer: to go with Saturn. Cupid won’t. He scans Sao, who looks to be on the verge of shattering like glass. Sao is so fragile! How could Cupid leave him now?

“Sao,” Cupid calls, “you’re shaking.” No acknowledgement. If Sao was still annoyed with him, that was fine. That was fair. Sao could continue to ignore him, and Cupid wouldn’t feel hurt. “I’m sorry for earlier—if I crossed a line I shouldn’t have.” It’s fine, Sao thinks. He doesn’t care anymore. “And you look like you need a hug. Do you want one?”

Sao wished Cupid couldn’t see him, or he wished Cupid wasn’t there, because Sao felt like he was choking back a breakdown and he hated the idea of anyone witnessing him feel so broken. He hadn’t even begun demolishing the Mercurian Colony, so why did he hurt so bad?

He doesn’t want Cupid’s comfort, fearing that if he accepted it, he wouldn’t be able to hold back his sobs.

He doesn’t want Cupid’s comfort, because it felt inherently wrong to be comforted at all.

But against his better judgment, he nods.