Notes

The Funeral

(-Black Holes only show color (the color doesn't variant, it is a set gene assigned at birth) when they feel emotions, as workers of the government they aren't to be colored, only pitch black.
-The king, Randale, is a scientist and majors in genetic engineering, a highly controversial practice. His current project is the Alphabet, which includes a 25 handcrafted regime of obedient and controlled black holes to be used by the government.
-Number 4, D is the most problematic of Randale's creations. Stubborn, emotional, and blunt, he is more of a nuisance to the king rather than an asset. He's on several mood medications that aren't named.)

The body was laid out on the narrow metal table, morbidly almost. The queen had taken the liberty of placing a blanket under the denigrating corpse. Most likely to keep the ashes off the carpet (an idea suggested by her husband), and not by her own gracious accord.

A mortified boy sat rigidly beside his partner, mouth agape like he was being directly choked by a pair of hands. The black hole to his right glanced toward the smaller celestial body questionably. He gave him a cold glare that begged for a sense of normalcy.

Number 5, E.

That was the name of the woman stretched across the metal like a tool. Her gold eyes were still opened as they stared back into the emptiness of the ceiling lights. The dark glow of her fingertips was faded and her fingers were dissolving altogether.

A choked out sob.

"Dystopia-" The man from before scowled, elbowing him gently, "Breathe. Please just- You can't have a meltdown right now. It's not the place or the time. The ceremony is about to begin, and he won't be happy..." His strained voice flattened as a shuffle of feet sounded the silent air, "...with you, so calm down."

Dystopia squeezed his wrist and choked out again, hyperventilating.

Canis Majoris glided by his side in an oblivious fashion, focused on the older black hole rather. She was smiling cheerfully, ready to bring light to this brushed under the rug event.

"Moth- Your majesty," He started, remembering where they were, "Do you require my assistance?"

"No, nothing like that, Axel. I was just checking up on you and your little bud here," Her fiery hand rested itself on the younger boy's tear-streaked face, caressing his chubby cheek softly, "Randale will be out in a little bit, he's almost ready. Could you maybe get him to calm down a bit? This partnership between you two was supposed to fix- well, fix this... If he sees no change in Dystopia's behavior, you're back to solo patrol and he," She pat his cheek too roughly, unintentionally, "Will be put on more medication."

If he wasn't having a panic attack at the time, Dystopia would have shrunk away from her hands and shooed her. One of the only other celestial bodies they knew was dead. He had a good reason to be freaking out. It seemed weirder to sit stoically and stare into the walls until being dismissed.

"Of course," Axel forced a smile, not because of her request, but because he knew it was impossible.

His eyes followed the star away as she disappeared behind some heavy maroon curtains. Dystopia could never be fixed, there was something severely wrong with him, but the hope Queen Majoris exhumed out of people could convince you that anything was possible. Axel's vision refocused on his partner once more.

It seemed that the boy had partially snapped out of his trance and was glaring snottily at basically his caretaker now. The man maintained eye contact nonchalantly. Slowly, Dystopia's breathing slowed to its normal short, quick rhythm. The blood red creeped into the black hole's indignant, uncomfortable eyes. It swirled around his curled hair that cupped his round cheeks. Like filling a bowl.

Axel shoved his face into his hands and suppressed a groan. Against his better judgement, he muttered humorously, "You're like the little brother I never wanted."

"Well, maybe if we are lucky I'll be the next "misfortune" strewn across the table," he chirped emotionlessly, carelessly gluing his ruby eyes to E's body.

To a normal celestial body, they would gasp. Not this one, he was far too used to the sick dark humor the stubby black hole had. He didn't even think, just jabbered whatever came to his mind. Sometimes he would be jittery and ramble aimlessly all day, but most of the time he just stowed himself away.

"Why must you mock our king? Do you love the reparations that much? It's unacceptable." The tall man asked, irritation smearing his words finally. He had begun to tap his foot impatiently as well, now itching for a run.

"Do you think murdering someone for disobeying you is acceptable?"

Axel rose his hands to express his loss for words, and he swore Dystopia flinched in response. Dread creeped into his stomach, but he knew better than to question his visits to Doctor R, especially at this level of their unfriendly banter. Red eyes darted back and forth against the walls.

Still, if physical assault was happening... That would have to be stopped, no one is immune to the law and invoking fear into your creations wasn't very productive. Their queen wouldn't stand for that sort of maltreatment in no way, shape, or form. Axel refused to involve her though, he knew about Randale's abusive nature.

"Can I ask you something?" The black hole's spoke before he was ready. It was too late for second thoughts now.

"Yep." Dystopia said sharply, his fingers nervously snapping soundlessly. He never took his big red eyes off the dark walls.

"In your sessions with... him, have you been subject to any violent outbursts?"

"With dear ol' dad? Of course not!" The boy's childish features contorted into a huge grin, "Now, where would you like me to sign the official "Fuck off" waver you'll hand in to mom?" Those bulging, exaggerated orbs screamed something else in his face. And it wasn't crude sarcasm.

Axel turned away from his partner's rather loud, cheeky display and sighed.