To The Moon and Back

𝟑𝟎 | 𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬𝐞

E C L I P S E

an obscuring of the light from one celestial body by the passage of another between it and the observer or between it and its source of illumination.

T O  T H E
M O O N & B A C K

IT IS ALMOST two AM. We have lied here on the centre of Rory's bed for hours upon hours on end. Me with my head on her chest, her with her dainty fingers in my hair and her laboured breaths, mine shallow and calm.

Despite being the most comfortable I have practically ever been, I am yet to fall asleep, and for some unknown reason, she hasn't yet either. 

I just can't stop thinking about Alula and Solar and—just—everything. Everything feels overwhelming. It's too much. And maybe that's why I'm savouring being here right now, with her. Because I know how bad things are currently and how much worse they can and will continue to get.

I don't care if Rory's father who supposedly hates me is just upstairs sleeping. I don't care if everyone hates me and I'm failing college and I can't even remember the last time I had a decent meal or slept for longer than two hours. 

None of it matters.

Because I'm here with her and she's here with me and even though there are a million and one reasons as to why she and I should be facing the world right now and solving our own separate issues, we remain here, limbs entangled with limbs whilst we continue to breathe the same air, none of it matters.

"Baby." Rory whispers softly, running her fingers through my dark hair. I don't respond. Mainly because I'm so relaxed—so fucking tired. "Atlas." she says my name in a way that is so lovely it makes even me love my own name.

An impatient groan surfaces from the back of my throat. I lift my head from her chest, my eyes flicking up to meet hers. "What?" my tone is raspy and weak from sheer tiredness. But the mental sort, not physical.

"I can't sleep." she says, her tone sounds like broken glass—so close to breaking, and my eyebrows draw together. "I didn't mean to wake you, it's just—"

I move slightly. "It's okay." I reassure her, yawning. I'm struggling to hold our gaze but I think even if I close my eyes, I won't sleep. There's too much on my mind. "I wasn't sleeping." I say, my chin brushing up against the valley of her breasts.

"I'll be back. Try to get some sleep." she says, sitting up and I move off her.

I don't object as she stands up and leaves the room. Archie perks his ears up from where he lies at the foot of the bed but doesn't have time to follow her before she closes the door. I sigh, rolling onto my back as I stare up at the ceiling.

I'm so fucking confused. I can't shut my brain off—I just want. . .I just want it—everything to stop. Forever.

I don't want to be mentally ill. I don't want to be suicidal. I don't want to be me.  And I don't want to be feeling all of this right now—having these thoughts right now, whilst around her.

I wish that I could enjoy being around Rory to the full extent but these intrusive thoughts always barge in unannounced every time I start to feel the slightest bit okay. 

Another thing I struggle with. I always thought for most of my life thus far that intrusive thoughts were just normal thoughts.

I didn't know that the way I was thinking wasn't normal until my mother asked me what I was thinking about one day. It was during a family trip—I was thirteen and a half. We visited family in Malibu, America, then travelled around for a few days afterwards. One of the places was San Francisco.