Moon and Stars

fourty four

Every day was the same: wake up, eat breakfast, go to work, return home, shower, sleep, repeat. Every day has been the same for nearly a month, but it only became draining when he no longer had Aurora by his side.

Fred slammed his hand down on the alarm clock as it went off, signaling yet another day's work ahead of him. He groaned as he rolled over, looking at the empty side of the bed next to him.

Fred was normally a mover when it came to his slumber, but ever since he began sleeping next to Aurora every night, he conditioned himself to remain on his side, only crossing the middle line to hold her in his arms. He missed holding her in his arms.

He stretched his limbs before sitting up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and lifting himself up, getting light headed as he stood up too quickly. He was ashamed to admit he let himself go a bit since he threw Aurora out.

He never slept as well as he did with her in his arms, and he didn't carry the same positive attitude at work as he used to. He didn't have a positive attitude at the apartment, either. He would only leave his room to eat a quick meal before going to work, and went straight to his room and bathroom when he got home.

He just wanted to be away from everyone at a time like this, yet George and Angelina were always there, as if they were watching him so he didn't make any sudden decisions; it was sickening. They would try to speak to him while tangled in each other's arms, and Fred wanted to do nothing more than gouge his own eyes out every time he saw them.

Occasionally, they would speak to him individually, and that only made it less effective. George seemed to be high on happiness compared to his twin, so Fred never wanted to speak to him without punching him in the face. Angelina always tried to comfort him in ways that Aurora would, by rubbing his shoulders, or making him a nice meal, and he wanted nothing to do with her. Normally, when someone attempts to make someone feel better, they should be grateful, but Fred just wanted them to stop.

He was in a mental battle with himself every day, and it was only worse since he had no idea how Aurora was doing. He called her a foul name and threw her out without a second thought, and it's been his biggest regret ever since.

He was so angry that she lied to him that he didn't realize he didn't let her explain her side. He was so angry that he didn't even listen to her side of the story, and he hated himself for that.

If he could have a second attempt at that night, he would have controlled his anger towards her, and at least let her explain why she did it before reacting. He was so stupid for letting his rage get the best of him, that he could have potentially ruined the best thing that's ever happened to him.

He's never loved a girl romantically besides Aurora, and the love he had for Aurora was strong and passionate, yet it was gentle and calming at the same time. She was his fire, but also his water, and he missed her more than anything.

Fred dressed himself in the same outfit he normally wears, before slumping into the kitchen to make himself the same breakfast he had been eating since Aurora left: scrambled eggs, with a side of toast, and a black coffee. It was quick, tasted fine, and he could prepare it on his own, without needing Aurora's help.

Something he was guilty of was letting his mind paint her to be the antagonist in this situation, in order to make himself feel better. He would try to focus on how long she lied to him, how long she spoke those empty words to him. It sometimes worked, and his depression would roll over to anger, but he would come to his senses quicker than he wished, and would remember that Aurora would never want to hurt him, and there must have been a reason.

If only he let her explain the reason...

As he sat down to eat his meal, the sounds of giggling came from the back of the house, and Angelina and George walked into the kitchen, their hands locked and swinging as they moved. He focused his gaze on the dark liquid in his cup, trying to ignore their conversation as they prepared themselves a meal.