𝐌𝐑. 𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐁𝐀𝐋...||A SOLARBALLS HORROR AU||

Did Somebody Say Just Eat?

ding dong

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"Hi, Uranus."

Uranus looks down at Earth, an eyebrow arched. "Hi, mate." He cleared his throat. Earth smiled, his hands behind his back. "Did you need something? I'm kind of.. Busy at the moment.." Uranus said, scratching at his neck with his free hand. The shorter male chuckled, shaking his head. "I just wanna offer you something.. Since you've been so down lately, y'know.. Do something nice, eh?" Ura' thought for a bit, looking Earth up and down. He sighed, moving so Earth could step in the house.

"You've got a nice place here, Uranus." Earth complimented, looking around the modern building. "Yeah, thanks." The taller man hummed, guiding the shorter towards the kitchen. They both went up to a counter, taking a seat in a chair. (It's one of those counters where chairs r around it ifykwim.) After a minute or two of silence, Earth decided to start conversation. "So, uh.. What have you been up to lately?" He leaned on his hand.

(Ew ew ew my old writing style EUGH.
this is where the 2k25 writing starts,)

Uranus blinked, his eyes stuck to his hands which were placed on the table. He couldn't tell Earth about his problems-- The two were hardly close. It was rare for them to be seen in the same space anyways.

Why was Earth even here. Is what he would've asked if he had no manners, instead, he responded--bland, and straight forward, "Nothing," Ura forced a small smile, hiding the self hatred he held for himself these past few days. "--nothing at all," He exhaled sharply. "Just been.. In my diary like usual."

Earth pursed his lips, eyes narrowing. "Really?" He hummed, fingers tapping against the marble. "Cause, to me, it seems like you're hiding something,"

That wasn't what Uranus expected, his pupils stuck to Earth's like the two had a stare off. "What makes you say that?" He sat up as straight as he could, feeling a pit form in his throat.

Earth tilted his head, smile crooked and oddly boyish. “Call it a friendly intuition,” he said, digging into the satchel he’d slung over his shoulder. “Also, you look like you haven’t slept in a week. That’s usually Neptune-level behavior.”

Uranus looked away, lips pressing into a firm line. That was too close to the truth.

“Anyway,” Earth continued cheerily, as if he hadn’t just hit a nerve, “I brought you something.” He pulled out a lumpy, over-wrapped sandwich, dropping it on the table with a triumphant grin. “Ta-da.”

Uranus stared at the sad, vaguely damp object. “What... is that.” He glanced at the item and Earth a few times, nose scrunched up.

“A sandwich,” Earth said, proud. “Made it myself. Extra mayo. And pickles. And... I think a piece of banana, but that part’s a surprise.”

Uranus blinked at him. “Why would you put—no. Never mind. Why are you giving me this?”

Earth leaned forward, his tone suddenly low and weirdly intense. “Because sandwiches solve things, Uranus. Like emotional instability. And cousin-related stress. Trust me, I’m practically a therapist.”

“That’s not how therapy works—”

“Eat the sandwich,” Earth said, his voice now urgent. His eyes were wide and disturbingly sincere. “It’s important.”

Uranus leaned back, visibly unsettled. “...You're freaking me out, mate.”

“Good,” Earth whispered. “That means it’s working.” He pushed the sandwich closer, the plastic wrap crinkling ominously.

Uranus looked between Earth and the sandwich, then muttered under his breath, “I’m going to regret this.”

Earth beamed. “Yes. But in, like, a healing way.”