To The Moon and Back

𝟐𝟏 | 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐛

L I M B

The outer edge or border of a planet or other celestial body.

T O  T H E
M O O N & B A C K

I'M NOT QUITE sure what it is that brings me to be awake this early. It could be the wreaking havoc the trees are creating outside as the wind sends their branches slamming into the exterior of the house. Or it could be the wind in general, the way it swooshes loudly. Or it could be the pretty little girl snoring into the side of my neck.

I have never slept with someone before. Ironically, I have slept with people, but there was actually no sleeping done. This time, we did nothing but sleep. 

I have been awake for a while now. Her blue lights are still on which is nice because too much darkness gives me anxiety sometimes. When we fell asleep just two hours ago around two AM, she remained on my chest, knees straddling my hips. Her hand was still drowning in mine and I was stuck lying on my back, which usually is my least favourite position—it makes my neck really fucking sore—but for two hours, it was fine. It was worth it.

I peer up at her thin, long window closer to the ceiling than it is to the floor and I notice the dark night sky has blurred into the thick grey clouds which welcome London's residents every day, almost. When I grab her phone, I see that it's ten past four. 

Ever so gently, I slide her off of me and onto the mattress next to us, like she's made of glass—but she isn't, I think a girl like her would be made of iron rather that a material that shatters easily.

In her sleep, she groans. As I stand up, I can physically feel all of her warmth leaving my body.

This morning when I woke up, I felt—and still do—like absolute shit. My body knows I haven't taken anything in too long. It knows that joint last night wasn't enough.

I need to get to my car, find my wallet, text my dealer, and meet up with him. That has to be put first. I can't go home empty-handed, otherwise the next week—my last week at my family home, I hope—will be miserable. Being there without having the luxury of taking a hit of something, is like being put into complete isolation. It's the only thing I can do to actually enjoy my time there. Mother has called the dean personally it UCL and given an award-worthy fucking excuse to excuse my absences, and Raven's my father's best friend, so he knows I won't be in for work, so really, I have no excuse to leave the house.

I offer her sleeping body one last glance before I head toward the door, turning the handle, then exiting. I close it quietly before manoeuvring through the living room and making my way toward the front door. Just as I near it, I hear light footsteps coming from the same direction I just had.

"Wait!" she says, almost urgently. I turn around and she's standing near the kitchen, rubbing her arms as she shivers, her teeth chatter. Her hair is in a ponytail but most of her hair is too short to reach the top of her head, so the front pieces and a lot of her hair at the back hangs loose and messily around her face. "Don't go yet."

The sound of her morning voice makes me want to argue with her just so that I can. But I don't.

"But it's four," I state, gesturing to the stairs. "Your father will be up soon."

She shakes her head. "I don't care." her sincerity surprises me. 

I depart from the door and walk over to her, stopping in front of her small figure. "You look so fucking pretty in the morning, you know that?" I whisper, tucking her hair behind her ear. "So fuckin' pretty."