To The Moon and Back

𝟐𝟖 | 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧

Despite having just paid for my dinner, I storm outside. I can't be in there because I can't control myself and I know I will hurt him again. Fortunately, I think I got the message across to him, so that he stays away from my sister, so she won't know what I did. If he is fucking insane enough to tell her, then Alula will kill me.

I blame that on my mother for always telling us violence is not the answer. I praise my father for always telling us the opposite.

Before I know it, I'm in my car and running my hands through my hair. I'm hyperventilating as the events of the last forty-eight hours hit me like a ton of fucking bricks. Pandora and I fighting. Me finding out about who Rory—my Rory used to be treated. By me. Falling down the stairs. Alula coming out. Finding out my best friend hurt my sister. Fighting with my ex best friend who hurt my sister.

I can't handle it.

I've been suppressing everything and how it makes me feel. I have been telling myself that I feel nothing, but I'm feeling. . .I'm feeling too much. I'm feeling it all. And it fucking hurts. Everything hurts. And I'm not talking about the bruise on the front of my head and my jaw or the fucking split skin on my knuckles and lip. I'm talking about the inside. Every limb aches, every bone weighs too much. The weight of my existence is just too much right now and it's killing me slowly from the inside out.

I'm pulled from my thoughts as my passenger door opens and then slams shut. Frightened, I snap my head to the side, and I see her sitting there and I forget about the weight of my existence for just one brief little moment.

She's hold up a white plastic bag of food. "You left and my shift ended, so I thought I'd just—" her timid expression shifts to one that is almost as crestfallen as mine. "Holy fuck, are you okay?"

I know I look beat up, but she shouldn't be so worried.

I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out and then she reaches over, grabbing the handle attached to my door and slides onto my lap, cold hands cupping my equally cold cheeks. I exhale, resting my head back against my seat, looking up at her, and then her thumb swipes a stray tear from my cheek and I realize I'm fucking crying.

That's why she's so worried.

"Atlas," she says softly, staring at me with such intensity. "Please. Talk to me."

I'm biting down on the inside of my cheek, trying to steady my breathing but I can't and the more I try, the harder and more erratic it becomes. I don't know where to start or what to say or how to say it. I wish she could read my thoughts, so I wouldn't have to speak at all.

I shake my head, turning it to the side but her gentle hands force me to look at her. "I'll listen." she says sternly but her dark eyes are also telling me if I don't want to talk, that's okay too.

The sincerity she speaks with alone is enough for me to grab the back of her neck and bring her lips to mine. Like she had been expecting it, her lips move against mine immediately and it feels good. So fucking good. Like my anxiety is melting into liquid and sliding down her throat, leaving me entirely.

My fingers make their way into the hair on the back of her head and she moans, my other hand remains tightly on her waist. Even over the pouring rain, I can hear her moans and groans. 

She pulls away, panting and then we just stare at each other and everything starts hurting again.

"What happened?" her eyebrows are drawn together as her thumb moves over the cut on my lip.

I catch the pad of her thumb between my teeth and she giggles, the mood lightning momentarily, until I let go and her sullen expression returns.