C I R C U M S T E L L A R  D I S K

A torus or ring-shaped accumulation of gas, dust, or other debris in orbit around a star in different phases of its life cycle.

T O  T H E
M O O N & B A C K

THE WEALTHY LADY that bought her Mercedes in yesterday entered the garage. I couldn't see her yet, but I heard the familiar clacking of her red bottoms against the asphalt ground. Not many people like her show up around here, there's another mechanic a block or two over with more staff and a nicer place, but they're more expensive, so only the cheap fucks show up around here. I don't know what a prim and proper little princess like her is doing here.

Sighing, I wheel out from under the car, hearing the faint sound of my friends chuckling from the back as I place the spanner on the ground and wipe my hands on my thighs, the dark grime almost unnoticeable on the dark material of my black jeans.

I stand up, and as expected, Miss Chanel is over there, covered in designer from head to toe. I give her a once over, not bothering to hide the way that my eyes sweep over her body. She looks like a fucking walking poster for my mother's fashion line.

"Is it done?" She asks, gesturing over to her sleek red car on the opposite side of the garage and I nod. "Wow, it looks brand new." She gasps as she walks over to it, acknowledging how the several dents were now gone.

I don't know where or how the fuck she got her driver's license but the fucking driving assessor must have been on crack. The lady stated that someone crashed into her, but she sounded hesitant and her story didn't line up. I don't really give a shit, though, as long as she pays up.

I walk around the front of the car that I had just been working on and stand near hers, stuffing my hands into pockets of my jeans. "Just needed a little panel beating." I state though it was a lot fucking more than a little.

"How much do I owe you?" She asked, pulling her purse out of her luxurious handbag. "One thousand, did you say?"

I frown, shaking my head. "It was but I had to install new headlights too, yours were fucked," I say and she gulps. "so, now it's two-hundred extra."

"One thousand two hundred?" She asks, shocked. Just fucking pay up, so I can close up. I nod, sighing impatiently. "Well, I didn't ask you to replace my headlights, just remove them."

That isn't how it fucking works.

I shake my head, rolling my eyes. "It's illegal to drive with non-working headlights." I growl. "Look, you rather fucking pay up, or I'll fuck your car up worse than you originally did, and you can go to the other mechanic down the street and pay quadruple down there, yeah?"

I'm way too fucking sober for this shit.

Her blue eyes widen, sweeping her blonde hair off her shoulders. "Fine." A heavy sigh follows. "Card?"

I nod, walking over to the counter, near the entrance and insert the amount into the machine before nodding at her, gesturing to pay and she places the chip of her card against the screen of the machine, waiting for a few seconds before it says approved and she sighs in relief, adjusting her long pencil skirt before placing her card into her purse and stepping aside.

After that, I grab the keys from the drawer underneath the counter and drive her car out of the garage and then get out, tossing her the keys before walking back inside, not sparing her a single glance as I press the button inside and watch as the garage door slides down, blocking out the majority of the light.

I contemplate returning back to working on the old Ute that some kid from UCL bought in early this morning. It's a bloody piece of work but I like cars that take work. It gives me something to do. It's a distraction.

I'm just about to get back under it when Solar and Alula descend the stairs, Alula's eyes bloodshot as she stumbles, meanwhile Solar—who is sober—holds her tight, stabilizing her. 

Sometimes I wonder if he secretly hates me for turning his girlfriend into someone else. I never forced her to be like me but we both were having a shit time during school and naturally, we found ourselves indulging into an, admittedly, unhealthy lifestyle.

She isn't necessarily addicted but she does deeply enjoy it.

Solar keeps his opinions to himself but he has made it apparent at least once that he doesn't approve of it but he chooses to stay out of it because he doesn't want to deal with someone else's drug problem. It sounds like something a wanker would say, but I get it. I wouldn't want to take on someone else's fucking addiction either, it's not theirs, it belongs to me, it's mine. It's me.

"We're going to go to Delilah's and grab a bite to eat." Solar announces, pulling Alula into his side. "Want to come?"

I look over at the car before going back to him. I'm not really hungry but I haven't eaten all day, so I probably should, otherwise, I'll forget entirely, and I don't need to look as crack-addicted as I feel on the inside.

So, I nod and begin locking everything up as they exit, claiming that they will meet me there. Two minutes later, I walk out with my keys and phone in hand, unlocking my car and sliding into the seat.

I begin the short drive to Delilah's. The drive feels like it takes forever despite going excessively fast. Part of me hoped that someone's poor driving would result in a head-on collision with my car, or even better, side on and my car rolls, doubling over.

Purposely, I speed in and out of traffic but I'm not as shitty of a driver as I sound, so nothing bad happens, unfortunately.

I'm tired. So fucking tired. And I feel drained. I feel exhausted and all I've done is lie beneath a car all day, using my hands. But it's the type of tired that is beyond your body. It's the type of tired where everything feels exhausting, everything is an effort, everything fucking sucks. But I feel that way all of the time.

I'm always fucking tired. What a way to live life.

I indicate, making a left turn as I exit the street that I had been driving on, and turn into the car park out the front of Delilah's Diner, parking in one of the few spare parks near the entrance. As I get out, I lock my car and head toward the front door, opening it as a bell sounds, signalling my arrival and I glance over at the counter to see if she is there.

She is.

I watch as she talks with her blonde friend, though she didn't look as though she wanted to be having the conversation. She looked drained—uninterested.

I noticed that her septum wasn't there, meaning she must have tucked it up into her nose. Her ring was replaced with a small, silver stud, and her make-up was the only thing that remained the same. Heavy pink blush was placed on the apples of her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, the button of her nose catching the light as well as the tops of her cheekbones, her skin like glass.

And that fucking eyeliner.

Fuck.

I force myself to look away. It's shitty that we're in the twenty-first century and the majority of workplaces still implement the clean look. Tattoos, piercings, unnatural coloured hair are all frowned upon. I like her piercings. And I haven't seen her tattoos yet, but I like them too. And her red streak. 

I reach the booth of which my friends occupy. I audibly groan in annoyance when I see that Pandora decided to tag along. And it seems as though Rion was invited too.

Pandora glanced up at me, her lips painted a vibrant shade of red, and she pats the spare space next to her, Rion sitting at the end of the table on a chair that he had pulled over. I groan as I sit down.

"Your little girlfriend's working." Pandora sneers, her eyes scanning the menu. "Don't think I didn't see you two speaking at the party. Pathetic. When did your type become disgusting?"

Oh, fuck off.

I snort, shaking my head. "When I met you." 

"I am way better than her." She declares, sounding awfully fucking desperate. "Admit it."

I shake my head, staring down at the menu but I wasn't actually reading it. "Pretty sad that you need my reassurance." I state lowly. "Stop being desperate, it's unattractive."

She huffs and I don't bother to spare her a glance. "You're desperate!" She whisper shouts, her tone dripping with venom. "She's skinny and just—she's a freak."

I look up through my eyelashes, pleased to see that Alula and Solar were too busy discussing the menu and Rion was focused on the screen of his phone, though I didn't really give a fuck whether they were listening or not, if they hear how fucking psychotic she is, that's her problem.

"You're losing my interest, and that is very dangerous." I turn to her, sending her a deadly glare. "Stop being fucking obsessive, it was one conversation. Get over yourself."

Pandora shakes her head, the heartbreak clear in her dark eyes as I see those dark irises freezing over. And just when I think that she is done speaking, she says: "I hope you fucking die for the sake of humanity."

I snort. "Easier said than done." I've already tried. "I'm already dead inside."

"Move." She seethes.

I stand up, allowing her to pass, though she makes sure to shove me before storming out of the diner and I shake my head, rolling my eyes. Fucking freak. I know she's only leaving because she wants me to follow after her but I won't and I never will. She isn't worth it.

Abruptly, I stand up. I was not going to fucking waste my existence following her but I was pissed off now and I just wanted to leave, so I did, and no one bothered to stop me because my anger is visible and no one likes speaking to me when I'm mad, which is understandable, I don't really fucking like me when I'm mad either.

I contemplate leaving before I contemplate going anywhere else. But in the end, I decide to go to the restroom. My blood was boiling, my hands trembling as I grasp the edge of the sink. I fucking hate her. Why does she have to be such a jealous, conniving bitch? Stupid fucking cunt.

I stare at my reflection and it takes what little amount of self-control I do not have to not slam my fist into the glass and shatter the mirror entirely.

I can't keep doing this. I can't keep existing. I wake up, and it breaks my heart. I don't bother to draw the blinds, I go to school, I drive among the buildings. I see men in black suits and women hurrying to work, I see cars breezing past, I see birds taking flight. And then, I see me. A stupid boy with the weight of the world on his shoulders. But that sounds pathetic because I don't pity myself, I know that it is my fault, to begin with, that I feel this way.

If only I could change.

My bones ache and it physically pains me. I just want to relax, but I'm not normal. If I relax, the end result is my falling apart. It's absurd. My illness and my medication quite literally put me in a state where I am unable to be normal. I cannot sleep too often, I cannot remain awake for too long, otherwise, it messes with my mental state, which is why every time that I take lithium, I take a sedative too, then a mood-stabilizer. Three pills which change me.

Right now, I want nothing but to fall to the ground and remain frozen until this overwhelming sense of exhaustion passes, but I would be still for weeks because it never quite goes away. It just becomes less apparent.

I think a decently large part of my hatred toward bipolar is that it is so uncertain. And I do not care for uncertainty. Scientists are unable to find a link as to where bipolar comes from, it isn't built into our genes. Unlike, for example, depression or anxiety, it can be passed on from a relative, or it can be developed from traumatic experiences. For bipolar, it just arrives one day with no rhyme or reason, and then it sticks.

Despite having a rather chaotic lifestyle—at times—it is vital that consistency remains prevalent in my daily life. I know waking up, popping a few pills, getting high, then going to class doesn't sound like much of a routine, but to me it is. Yeah, it isn't the everyday wake up and put on a nice fucking outfit then conquer the world type of routine, but it works for me.

So, having bipolar, the most un-fucking-predictable illness there is, whilst being someone that relies on a sense of normality and consistency, is fucking hard. I never know when I'm going to experience a mood change or have a fucking relapse. Some mornings I wake up and my first thought is how badly I look forward to going back to sleep at the end of the day. That's how I know it's bad. And I experience that most days.

It sounds cliché, but sleep is an escape. It's several hours of being unconscious. If there is one thing that I do give my body often, it's sleep. Literally and figuratively, I couldn't survive without it.

I compose myself. One, two, three. And then, I walk out. Alula sends me a worried glance, but I ignore her gaze and continue walking down the thin aisle between the booths, rush hour beginning as buzzing students and post-work people coming in for their daily caffeine intake.

I walk over to the long counter next to the register where customers are served and I sit down, occupying one of the seven stools, though there were only three spares. I don't bother reading the menu, I already know what I want.

Impatiently, I rest my chin on my hand and the blonde girl who seems to be friends with Aurora, walks over, her name badge reading Ophelia. 

"Can I take your order?" She asks, her tone awfully chipper.

It makes me sick.

I nod. "Yeah." my voice is monotone. "Pancakes. With extra maple syrup. That's it."

Ophelia nods and walks away. I notice Aurora serving someone at the register before her gaze falls upon me. Her expression remains solemn, emotionless for a moment before it turns sour. And then, to my surprise, she walks over to me.

"Did you miss me that much?" The corners of her lips uplift into a sardonic smile.

I roll my eyes but I don't bother to respond. I want to, kind of, I just can't.

Her smile fades quickly, chewing on the inside of her cheek. I stare at her for a while and I don't bother to hide it. She's pretty. Uniquely pretty. Long thick, faux eyelashes frame her pretty dark eyes,

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out, staring at the notification being displayed on my screen.

(Pandora, 4:30 PM)
I'm sorry. I know that I overreacted. You know how it is with me. I love you.

Whether or not she is sorry, I don't fucking care. She's mental. I think that it's just because she loves me, too much, but sometimes, with her, it feels like I'm drowning. And I'm already drowning enough without her. 

I have manipulated everyone who has fallen in love with me to fall in love with me and that either makes me a really fucking good liar or a terrible, unlovable human. I'm both, I suppose. Incapable of giving love or receiving it, and extremely capable of making someone believe that I do love them.

I don't bother to respond, instead, I turn my phone off completely and slide it back into my pocket. To my surprise, she is watching me and awfully closely. Almost as if she's analyzing me. 

"Don't look too close, love. You won't like what you see."

Aurora cocks one of her dark, arched brows. "And why not?" she rests her elbow on the countertop in front of me, her chin sitting on top of her hand.

Why not? Because I am severely bipolar, I have copious amounts of depressive episodes, I can't go five minutes without considering the ways in which I will take my own life, I'm a liar, I ruin everything that I touch, and I'm a burden, to everyone. So, don't get too close. That's what I want to tell her but for once. . .I don't want to scare this one away. Not yet.

"Stars are only pretty from a distance," I answer. "look closely and they're just a ball with a circumstellar disk orbiting around it."

I didn't expect her to know the meaning behind each word but I think she understood anyhow.

Aurora shakes her head, looking up at me through thick, long eyelashes. It made her look innocent. "Who's to say that I don't like balls, huh?"

I snort, shaking my head, and just then, the waitress—Ophelia arrives with my pancakes, placing them down in front of me, I don't thank her anything, I simply begin eating, but I feel slightly uncomfortable as Aurora still resides in the same position, close, watching me.

"Since when have you liked balls?" the overly happy girl with blonde hair asks.

Aurora's cheeks redden though it almost goes unnoticed beneath the heavy blush on her cheeks. 

She shifts uncomfortably, sending her friend a glare which Ophelia doesn't notice, she's too busy laughing, but it seems wrong of her to openly discuss her sexuality with another individual, though it was in a joking manner.

"Yeah, really fucking funny." I respond, shaking my head.

Ophelia quickly calms down, going deadly silent as she looks at me. "Sorry who are you?" she uses a voice which is meant to sound intimidating but it isn't in the slightest.

You know who I am.

"The guy that fucked your mum last night."

She gasps and I can't help but smirk, meanwhile, Aurora slaps a hand over her mouth, snorting. It wasn't even what I had said that was amusing, it was the mere fact that Ophelia was reacting as though I just told her that I murdered someone.

"Her mum's dead you twat." Aurora informs me and it only makes the situation even more amusing.

I chuckle, watching her the whole time. "Shit." Ophelia continues to look at me in pure disgust and I consider saying thank fuck your mum died but I don't in case her mum had cancer of some shit. "Here," I slap ten pounds down, next to my place of barely eaten pancakes. "tastes like shit anyway."

Once again, a gasp falls from her lips and I take that as my cue to leave. They didn't taste that bad I just wanted to piss her off. I'm just fucked off that she didn't give me extra maple syrup. 

Slipping off the stool, I walk outside of the diner, slamming the door behind me before walking over to my car and sitting on the front of my car, my legs crossed as I pulled a joint from my pocket, then begin searching for my lighter.

Fuck.

Alula took it.

You've got to be fucking kidding.

I groan out in annoyance, tensing my jaw as I stare down at my feet. It is little things like these that just add to my excessive need to tie a noose around my bloody neck.

The sound of shoes scuffing against the asphalt is what pulls me from my thoughts but I ignore it, I'm too busy imagining the ways in which I could end my miserable life right here right now, when I heard someone clear their throat.

Looking up with a scowl, I see Aurora Kingsley standing before me, a tight smile on her lips, a Nike bag slung over her shoulder whilst she wore her uniform, which was barely a uniform. Just a black shirt and black jeans, though mine was relatively similar; that being black jeans and a white long-sleeved shirt with the typical denim blue short-sleeved top over it, buttoned up with my name embroidered onto the top left on the small pocket.

"Here." She says softly, holding a lighter out to me.

Still having the joint pressed between my lips, I shield it from the brisk wind as she steps closer