Our Space

☆ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ☆

★彡[ᴘᴜʟʟ ᴏꜰ ɢʀᴀᴠɪᴛʏ]彡★

☾☉☉☉☽

Sao hates weight. He hates the weight from the force of gravity keeping him to Earth, he hates the weight of reality slamming him to the ground, he hates the weight of his Neptunian tears, and he hates the weight of his heart, which plummets and cracks and breaks.

This isn't fair.

At seventeen, he was swept into the program. At seventeen, with no ambition or plans for the future, Cosmos Administration convinced him to join. They promised a life of chasing shooting stars and living on neighboring planets and piloting machinery that had previously only existed in fiction. A kid's fantasy come to life. A purpose. How could he refuse?

It was easy to grow attached during the following two years—to the program and to space.

The people of Earth—who have never flown a ship, who have never seen the beauty of Mars or Mercury up close—do not hold that sentiment, that attachment. To them, to those who have not raced past comets, space is a waste of time. They think humanity has no business colonizing Venus or Jupiter. They think humanity shouldn't waste money and resources on inventions that won't be used back home. They want every alien in Cosmos Administration to return despite being the ones who pushed them away in the first place.

So now, by popular demand and societal pressures from the people who shouldn't have a say, who will never understand, after years of dedication and hard work, Cosmos Administration has announced its disbandment.

It would be gone in a few days.

Sao's legs hit the side of his bed, allowing himself to fall backwards and tumble onto the sheets. His chest heaves as he exhales, his gaze fixating on the ceiling above with a blank stare. Reality doesn't feel so real.

The gravity of Earth has always had some hold on Sao. No matter where he was, Earth has always pulled. But to ban him from space? But to give Earth's gravity total control and full permission to hold him back? That was the worst kind of weight. That was hell.

"This is too... sudden," Sao whispers. "I'm not ready." He raises an arm, covering his eyes. He feels sick. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do. After its all gone, I mean."

"We'll figure it out." The mattress dips as his roommate, Caju, takes a seat beside him. Sao sits up but doesn't meet his eyes.

Will we? Sao's heart sinks, heavier.

"I don't wanna be stranded on Earth any more than you do and I don't know how we're gonna rejoin the society who didn't want us. But we have to and we'll figure it out. Somehow. I fucking guess!" Caju throws his hands in the air, exasperated. "God, this is stupid. They're stupid. It's all stupid. I'm pissed!"

Sao slides closer, hesitant to intertwine their fingers (he decides not to). "I didn't mean to get you all worked up."

Caju's anger is louder and more significant than Sao's sadness; Sao is quick to forget his own feelings, thankful for the distraction. He's good at that: at running away.

"Too late now," Caju says. "Maybe I'll leave our room right now and go curse out Titan and Pandora and every other higherup, right to their faces. Maybe I'll kick and scream. Maybe I'll punch and bite."

Sao bites his tongue, trying not to laugh. "They'd deserve it."

"They would!" Caju exclaims. "I bet Saturn would enjoy watching the show."

"Probably," Sao agrees.

Titan and Pandora are easy to spite, although, Sao doesn't have the guts to be as obvious about it as everyone else. To be that blunt, to be that honest? That is not a luxury Sao has. Instead, there is the weight of chains. They're suffocating—but they also feel safe.