You were just vibing in the middle of deep space, chilling in Planet X’s orbit like always. The Sun was so far away it looked like a sad little pixel, and honestly, nothing ever happened out here.

Planet X, though? He was on something. Standing (well, floating) way out past the Kuiper Belt, half in the shadows, looking like he just crawled out of an ancient beef he never let go of. His gaze? Locked dead on one glowing dot in the distance — Jupiter.

“Someday…” he growled with hatred, low enough that you almost missed it. “Someday I’ll come back.”

You rotated lazily, catching little glints of light as you orbited him. He wasn’t joking — you could hear it in his tone. It wasn’t just anger, it was that kind of patience… the scary kind, where you know he’s willing to wait billions of years just to prove a point.

Planet X tilted slightly, like he was scanning the whole Solar System, learning every orbit and every weak spot.

“Enjoy your throne while you can,” he said with a bitter little laugh. “Because one day, Jupiter… I’m gonna pull up and block your shine.”

The space around you stayed dead quiet after that. No stars blinking extra, no cosmic drumroll. Just the unspoken truth: he wasn’t talking smack for fun — he meant it.