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5 billion years from the present day.
The imminent threat of Sun's cocoon, an essential step in his red giant phase, loomed over every other celestial in the solar system and blanketed them all with a layer of tension.
The most terrified of all was, of course…
Venus.
Surprised? Mercury, although he was the first in line and certainly still frozen to the core with anticipation, wasn't the most terrified. He knew this was coming for him, ever since that day, several billion years ago, where Sun first confessed to the little rockies about the whole situation. The small planet remembered that event like it was yesterday. The feeling of dread simmering in his mantle as he cried in his orbit, unmoving to any of the Sun's fleeting attempts to comfort him. He was so young back then, perhaps only a hundred million years old. Nobody could blame such a fragile soul for being scared.
Now? Mercury was nearing the long-awaited end of his life. He had no excuse.
The scorching hot cocoon that seemed to stretch on forever in every direction towered over him, sending awful waves of heat sparking down his spine. He'd been living like this for a couple of years now, and it wasn't exactly pleasant.
But, he thought to himself as he glanced over to his neighboring planet, it was nothing compared to the psychological torment that Venus seemed to be going through.
The volcanic planet in question was certainly not taking the red giant phase well. Not only did it eliminate any sort of fleeting opportunity to develop life on his surface once more, it also meant that sooner or later, the cocoon would grow, and grow, and grow, and grow, and grow, and then that pipsqueak would be gone.
Then who would he have left? Mars and Earth were far too accompanied with each other, and he couldn't say he blamed them—they didn't have much time left together after all, and everyone from here to the Kuiper belt knew how close they were. Everyone else from there was too far from Venus' regular orbit to hold a conversation with, even if Sun's watchful eyes were no longer there to rake every nook and cranny of his solar system.
So he'd be alone. All alone. Just as he'd claimed to always want, and just as he'd prayed to never happen ever again.
Not after Theia.
So all he could do was turn his back to his pipsqueak, keep up his facade for the 9 billionth and something time, and beg to the biggest black hole in the universe that it wouldn't happen now.
Oh stars, it's gonna happen now. Mercury's eyes widened in fright as the cocoon approached closer and closer, sweat beading down his forehead. He took several steps back, but the gravity was too much to handle. Would Sun tear him apart without knowing? Mercury couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt rack his already occupied mind as the mental image of Sun emerging from his cocoon only to find his "favorite" planet long gone appeared in his head.
Right now, though, his only thought should've been to survive for as long as possible. Stumbling on seemingly nothing, he crashed down to the apparent "floor" of the solar system, a panicked yelp escaping his throat.
"Pipsqueak?" The all-too-familiar voice wafted its way into Mercury's ears, and in some sort of animalistic instinct, the latter helplessly extended an arm towards the volcanic planet. "Venus…" He cried out, pain overwhelming him out of nowhere as what as left of his star came even closer, the searing heat making his whole body scream in agony.
"No," Venus gasped, and Mercury could feel the gentle tug of his gravity as he approached, but something in him made him lurch back despite the ache in his core.
"Don't," Mercury pleaded, pushing Venus back as tears started to pour down both of their faces. The smaller planet had to choke back a scream as a chunk of flesh peeled away from his arm and dissolved along with his tears. "You'll just be hurt, go. Go, go, go."
Mercury swore he saw an expression of pure, unadulterated despair flicker on Venus' face as the latter grabbed onto his wrist.
"You idiot, Mercury! If I go, you'll just die! I can't let that happen, stars above, I can't!" His voice wavered dangerously, and despite the somewhat angry look in his eyes, there were still teardrops streaming relentlessly down his cheeks as he attempted with all his might to pull Mercury away.
"I die either way, stupid!" The smaller planet shot back, and yet again that despair came back onto Venus' face, even for a split second. "Go, please."
"Then why'd you call me?" Venus choked out; his voice had somehow gotten raspier than usual.
Mercury smiled a little bit, wings curling inward as they typically did whenever he felt rather bashful. "I just…needed to see your face another time, okay? It's corny, I know."
The volcanic planet let out one of his common bark-like laughs, shaking his head in mock contempt. "Unbelievable. You really can't just stick around, huh, pipsqueak?" As the words escaped his lips, more tears continued pouring down his face, floating out into the space around the two for a moment until dissolving as well.
"I really can't, I guess." Mercury replied, the heat now becoming unbearably excruciating for him as the cocoon nearly grazed his back. By the stars, it hurt.
"Unbelievable." Venus repeated, eyes watering even more with how little he was blinking. He needed to drink up the unimaginably perfect sight that was his pipsqueak, one final time, just one more selfish little glance of him before it was never going to be anything. He'd never be anything.
Never be anything, but the new fastest planet in the solar system.
"See you on the other side, Venus." Mercury's words were nearly drowned out by the sizzling and other, unidentifiable sounds of their star, but of course the volcanic planet could still make out his pipsqueak's unforgettable voice.
"See you, pipsqueak."
And with that, Venus let go of Mercury's wrist.