☼ Almost Right ☼

2. Sleepyhead (pt. 1)

The planets danced around their star in near-perfect harmony. Tirelessly, endlessly, those tiny, tiny, poor little spheres dragged themselves along without a single care in the world. Not even for time, which they had wasted and neglected after doing the same thing over and over again. Nor for space, having rejected the vastness, the beauty, the wonder, the sheer JOY— of an ever-expanding universe. The way the larger solar system was slugging through its orbit was also tedious to watch—gravity was but a whimper, beckoning weakly from nowhere land. The fact that cosmic time had allowed everyone to get anywhere near him was a miracle in and of itself.

Black Hole knew he was lucky.

An unconscious solar system could never care for anything, not even for itself. The planets would continue to cycle on and on until they worked themselves to death, and the star wouldn't be able to stop it from happening. Wouldn't be able to stop themself...

Black Hole knew it had to be torture—not being able to learn, to hope, to love. The worst part was that you couldn't know what you didn't already know. They were missing out on so much yet they lacked the ability to realize it.

Just like him all those years ago. Complacent in his misery.

But now, Black Hole could help! Now, he could control gravity, warp time and space. Now, he could save them from themselves. He just needed to—

"—sst, Black Hole? Hey." A soft, nasally voice cut through Black Hole's dream. With it, his old feelings and memories melted away and made space for reality. He didn't like it.

"W-Wh—?" He began before cutting himself off, squeezing his 'eyes' shut. Okay. He didn't like that either.

"How are you? Feeling alright?"

The list of things Black Hole didn't like was growing at a rapid pace. He was stuck in place. Frozen. Heavy. A frightening...yet familiar sensation. Was it scary because it was familiar? He couldn't tell. He could never tell. Powerlessness stirred up something visceral in his soul, making him hate it either way. Hate himself for falling victim to it in the first place.

He didn't want to move. He didn't want to speak. He didn't want to see. Everything felt awful beyond the magnitude he was used to, well beyond the words at his disposal. And yet, he knew he needed to do something. Someone had just asked him a question! Someone else was there! Black Hole needed to fix himself and find out what was going on and he couldn't afford to be so—

"H-hey! Don't worry about it! I'm just here to help."

Black Hole became even more stunned. For a moment, his shock managed to dispel his discomfort.

Did...did he just...?

"Oh, I think I know what the problem is. You're having a hard time separating your thoughts from your words." Following some mechanical whirring, Black Hole heard the sound of a pencil scribbling on paper. "Don't know about the pain, though. That's kind of weird. Not to say you're weird or anything!" They gave an awkward laugh before adding, "Pretty much everyone's having problems tonight, so you're not alone. Really."

Black Hole appreciated how patient and considerate this person sounded. How did that even happen? He thought he figured out spoken language over a millennia ago! Regardless, it seemed like they were willing to move past his faux pas. Black Hole hoped he could do the same.

For some reason, they kind of reminded him of that little X guy. He missed them, maybe even Four as well—it was hard to separate the two. He had to admit, Four was astonishing. They could fix everyone, including him. If only he wasn't a massive liar—