To The Moon and Back

𝟑𝟓 | 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧

A P A S T R O N

The point of greatest separation of two stars, such as in a binary star system.

T O  T H E 
M O O N & B A C K

I'M DRIVING RORY home and the silence between us is agonizing. She won't speak and neither will I. Not a single word since we left the event half an hour ago. I can't tell if she's mad or sad or if she doesn't care at all. I can't read her and I'm not sure I want to.

"Are you mad?" I finally dare to speak.

I hear her scoff, peering out at the night sky seen through her window. "No."

This isn't like her. She's honest. She's playing me at my own game. I too did something not like me—well, as far as she knows—and so, she is too. I thought we knew each other well, but I'm now realizing there is still an entire part of me she isn't familiar with. The Atlas whom betrays his family. The Atlas whom hurts his familiar and lies to them. The Atlas whom keeps his father up all night searching for him. The Atlas whom made his mother cry countless times and has recited the words I hate you many more than I love you.

She sees the good in me. And I haven't yet to be in a situation where I do something shitty and have her experience it. She doesn't know I have done bad things—to others and especially to myself. That's why she's angry. Because she thinks that I'm good. She doesn't want to admit that I ditched her to snort lines in the fucking bathroom and left her waiting alone. But I did. And I think it's eating me alive.

"Fuck that." I snap. "Are you mad at me?" I repeat.

We are almost nearing the bridge when sighs. "You said—you promised that you would keep your addiction and our relationship separate." her words cut through me like a knife. "That was only a week ago. Atlas, are we setting ourselves up for disaster?" as she's speaking, she's not looking at me. She keeps her eyes trained forward, and as do I.

I don't know. Are we?

"No." I say quickly, gripping the steering wheel tightly. "It was just—I wasn't thinking, okay?"

Rory laughs. "Yeah, right." her tone is clipped and blunt. "And was you not thinking in relation to the fact that you got high at your mother's fashion show or because you missed the entire thing and left me—your date, in case you forgot, to sit alone."

"I fucked up, I know." is all I manage to say. I don't know what to do in this situation—what to say, because I did fuck up.

In my peripheral vision, I can see her shaking her head. "Look, I know my place. You don't need me to fix you and I don't think I could even if I wanted to, but there is a way where you can do your shit without bringing the people down around you." she says like she's familiar with it. "You don't know what your mother could be going through, or your sister, or, God, even me." she sounds more hurt than angry. "And the point is, I don't want you to know if something is wrong with me because I don't want you to get hurt. It's called self-destruction because it only involves you. When you involve other people, it becomes destruction. Of yourself, of others. It's—"

"I know!" I say through gritted teeth, pressing my foot down on the accelerator, shaking my head as it begins to downpour. "Fuck, Rory. I know."

She goes silent, gulping loudly and I curse, indicating left, before pulling up onto the side of the road, shifting into park. My car idles, the engine rumbling and I turn the radio off, turning to stare at her.

"You know I'm a fucking addict Rory. You know this. So why are you so upset?" I question, not daring to touch her as she remains still and deadly silent.