To The Moon and Back

𝟑𝟏 | 𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫

M E T E O R  S H O W E R

An event where a large number of meteors enter the Earth's atmosphere from the same direction in space at nearly the same time. Most meteor showers take place when the Earth passes through the debris left behind by a comet.

T O  T H E
M O O N & B A C K

I LIE THERE, looking at her sleeping face. It is ten o'clock at night. We are yet to leave my room other than to use the bathroom or get a drink, but even that we haven't been doing much because we are so fixated on one another.

Last night we stayed up the entire night and now, thinking back to it, we did absolutely nothing except make-out and talk about anything and everything. Her favourite colour. Red. The colour of her first bike as a child. Red. The colour my skin turns when I'm around her. Red.

I haven't slept yet; I haven't been able to. Maybe it's because I have stopped taking my meds again. I have noticed that being on medication makes me so tired every minute, but two days off them and I feel the most awake I have ever been.

I didn't intentionally stop taking them again. I just haven't stayed at Rory's house for that one night and missing even a singular day causes a chemical imbalance. But I guess that's what's wrong with me, right? I have a chemical imbalance. And by taking my meds, tricks my body into thinking that I don't. But I do and I always will.

I'm home now, though. Whatever that is. And I don't want to take them. I can practically hear them laughing at me from the cabinet in the kitchen. You're going to go crazy, they're saying.

Rory fell asleep a few hours ago. We were both meant to have school today—me, college, and her, secondary school, of course, but neither of us went. I don't want to have to see Pandora and Rory doesn't want to see Ophelia.

I called in sick for her and pretended to be her father so that they wouldn't call her dad about her absence. And we left before her dad could wake up, and drove to my apartment, which she seems far more fond of anyway.

When we arrived, I had forgotten how much of a mess I had created before leaving, and therefore, the place appeared to be trashed—because it was, in fact, absolutely fucking trashed. She asked me what happened and I didn't answer, but she told me she didn't mind, it just distracts from the ugly paintings on the wall.

I have somewhat cleaned up since, but I can't easily rid of all the broken pieces gathered up, so multiple rubbish bags sit tied in knots next to my door.

She's resting on her side, facing me, her hands resting between her cheek and the pillow. Her face is clear of any make-up and I can count six freckles scattered across her nose bridge.

Seeing her sleep, I recognize a calmness in her, a calmness I had always craved, a calmness I always envied people for I did not have that calmness. I do not envy her, though. Because that calmness is mine.

As though she can sense me watching her, her eyelids flutter open and she squints. "Creep." she murmurs, rubbing her eyes. "Have you slept yet?"

I shake my head. "I'm not tired."

She sits up, stretching her arms up in the air as Archie jumps onto the bed to greet her. She pets him, giving him a kiss, before turning to face me. She presses her hand to my shoulder, forcing me onto my back, before moving onto me, straddling my sides, but she holds her weight off me.

Yes, she did, in fact, insist on bringing her dog. Apparently, her father is neglectful of not only his own family, but pets too. So, he's been enjoying the city life, sleeping on the foot of my bed, and every few hours, Rory takes him outside.