P H A S E

The apparent change in the shape of the Moon and inferior planets as seen from Earth as they move in their orbits.

T O T H E
M O O N & B A C K

I WALKED UP the front steps leading to the Torres residence which was just out of London, near Holloway. It is almost four AM but I cannot seem to sleep, so I went for a drive, as I always do when I am unable to sleep, which is often. And somehow, I ended up here. I don't know why.

Her house was a normal suburban house in England. It was tall, made entirely of orange brick, and the grass was incredibly green.

I raised a fist, I wanted to knock, but it is late. Her parents are probably asleep. Her parents have a strange relationship. Her mother sleeps on the couch constantly, spending her days watching television and sipping tea because she recently discovered that she has Leukemia, so she no longer works. And her father is a drunk deadbeat that invalidates every human around him and makes people feel like shit.

Her mum is nice at times and not so much at others. I have visited this house many times over the last few years and not often have I surpassed her father around the house, but when I have, he doesn't smile nor greet me, just merely walks past as though I am a ghost. Though that is not special to me, he acts that way with everyone.

I grasped the doorknob, turning it slowly before pushing it open, and thankfully, it was not locked.

My Converse squeak against the wooden panelling and I spare a glance at Mrs Torres who is sleeping peacefully on the musty brown couch, her mouth wide open as she drools, the early morning news projecting a dull light upon her barely conscious body.

My hand slides along the railing as I walked up the old wooden steps. Once reaching the top, I head down the short hall, opening the first door on the left. When I walked in, I was welcomed by the familiar scent of her Chanel No. 5 perfume that she practically bathes in.

Her sheer curtains remain open, allowing the moon to grant its light. Her brown and blonde hair sprawls out all over the pillow, her eyelids closed as she snores softly. She is far more pleasant to be around when she is sleeping. Her lips, usually painted but now bare, were parted, rather than holding her usual cynical smirk. Even in her sleep, her forehead creased. She was frowning.

She stirred in her sleep, mumbling something incoherent.

I toyed with my fingers, unsure of what I truly came here for. I don't even like sex and even more, I do not like her. So, why did I find myself at her doorstep so early? Maybe because I am simply bored. So fucking bored. And everyone is asleep.

Solar and Alula are together. Orion I don't even want to see. And that is all I have. Lonely, huh? But I made it that way. I used to have dozens of friends, so many that I lost count. But that was in high school, and they were all fake. I dealt with it for years until I dropped my scholarship and became a deadbeat and observed all of my friends dropping like flies. They did me a favour by leaving, though, so, at the end of the day, I don't really give a fuck.

I haven't been over in a while. So long that I almost forgot what her room looked like. Baby pink walls, an old drawer set with the white paint chipping adorned the right wall, glow in the dark stars from her childhood remained stuck to the ceiling like glue. On one of her shelves, there were several dolls from when she was a little girl.

A little ballerina attached to a jewellery box twirls around, a soft—but absolutely fucking irritating—tune following and I walk over to where it sat atop her drawers, along with countless perfumes. I narrow my eyes at the inanimate object before slamming the lid shut, so that it would be quiet.

"Atlas?"

I snap my head toward her. She's confused. Excited. But she tries to cover the excitement with a frown.

I remain silent, the corners of my mouth forming a scowl. I shouldn't have come here.

My gaze remains on the door before shifting back to her. Removing the covers from her body, I see her entire silhouette. She was wearing one of my shirts. I don't know when I must have left it here, but it was black, and it looked like a dress on her, drowning her small petite figure. It made me squirm. Why was she wearing it? Does it bring some sort of comfort to her?

I have never understood the intimacy behind wearing another's clothing, and quite frankly, I do not believe that I ever will.

"Don't leave." she whispers, ushering me to join her.

I run a hand through my hair, sighing before walking over to the edge of her bed which was practically a single. There was barely enough room for the both of us, but as I slipped under the duvet, my body half off the edge, she slides on top of me and I am able to move over slightly.

"I was dreaming about you." she says and I don't say anything. "You were here, with me. But then you left, like you always do. Will you stay this time?"

I sigh, chewing on the inside of my cheek as I hear the faintest whisper please? she says, but I shake my head. "You know I can't stay."

I stare up at the little stars on the ceiling, her warm palms pressed against my chest as though I could get up at any moment and leave. "I know." she says.

What we have is complicated. We are not even a we. We—her and I, are just two individuals that use each other for different reasons. She may not realize it, but we do. I use her for drugs when I cannot get my own, I use her for company sometimes, like now. I use her to release my anger too, not as in sex, but as in yelling. Sometimes I see her just so that I can wait for her to fuck up, and I can yell at her.

She uses me for the same reasons too, sometimes. But she loves when I fuck her because even though I leave afterwards, I fuck her good. Besides, she knows that no matter how many times that she slaps me or calls me names, I'll come back because I need her just as much as she needs me. Not in a loving way, but in more of a yeah-I-fucked-up-but-now-I-need-you-to-do-something-for-me way.

She's fucking nuts but no one else is going to sit around and deal with my episodes, then come back to me. But Pandora does.

The apparent change in the shape of the Moon and inferior planets as seen from Earth as they move in their orbits.

What we have is a phase. Phases don't last. And so, as the moon changes shape, we will too. Sometimes, we will be whole and sometimes barely half. In the end, we will be nothing.

"You know how you made that bet with Rion? The one with Aurora?" she brings the topic up and I furrow my eyebrows. I had completely forgotten about it. "Well, you wouldn't ever, like, actually like her. . .would you?"

I screw my face up. "Why are you asking me that?"

I am not capable of much in this world, but if there is one thing that I capable of, it is not having—or gaining—feelings toward someone. Not just because I don't know my feelings, but because I don't know what it means to like someone beyond needing them for your own selfish reasons. I know need. That is all.

"I don't know." Pandora exhales deeply, her hot breath fanning across my chin as I feel her eyes burning into me. "Isn't she like gay?"

I snort. "Are you assuming her sexuality?"

And that is one of a thousand reasons why I could never like this girl. I saw how irritated Aurora appeared the other week when her blonde-headed friend bought it up in front of me. It's a touchy subject, I can tell. I get it, not because I am confused with my sexuality, but because I know how fucking annoying it is to be labelled in any shape or form.

"Well, she is. Have you seen her with that Ophelia girl?" she snorts like something is actually funny. "You should have seen her with Opal. She died and now, she's like, all emo."

Opal. Explains the necklace she always wears. I guess they were close.

I shake my head. "Extend your vocabulary before you judge someone." I retort.

"You aren't one to talk." she sits up, straddling my hips as she glares down at me.

I cock an eyebrow. "What is that supposed to mean?"

She waits a few moments before shaking her head. "Don't worry. I wouldn't expect you to remember, you're not even aware of your feet on the ground ninety-percent of the fucking time."

I scoff, shoving off me, and she dramatically falls onto the bed. I stand up, knowing exactly where this is going to go just by the tone of her voice. She bought up Aurora because she is jealous, she bought up me always leaving her because she doesn't want me to leave, and now, if I don't leave, she's going to pick a fight with me. I'm too tired to fight.

Just as I near the door, she runs, placing her body between myself and the door, forcing it to remain shut. I glare down at her as she watches me with watery eyes.

"Please," she begs, her voice weak. "don't leave."

Grinding my teeth, I shake my head. I place my hands on her waist and for a brief moment, she looks hopeful, like I'm going to fucking hug her or something, but instead, I force her aside, so that I have access to the door again. If she's going to fucking cry, then I'll leave. I hate when she cries. I hate when anyone cries, I don't know what the fuck to do.

"Stop!" she takes hold of my wrist, using all of her strength—which is little—to hold me back, and simply for the sake of her parents who are sleeping, I stop to prevent her from screaming anymore.

Inhaling deeply, I turn around, sending her a deadly glare. "The fuck are you doing?" I whisper-shout. "Stop acting psychotic. I need to go."

Transparent tears fall down her cheeks, travelling down her neck. "No, you want to go." she corrects me, and, ironically, she is in fact correct. "Do you know how much this hurts? Four years we have been together and never once have I heard you say that you don't want to lose me. I tell you to leave and what do you do? You leave me."

I scoff, shaking my head as I lean against the doorframe. "If it weren't for a game, I would have never wasted a single second of my fucking time getting to know you." I growl, folding my arms. "Don't fool yourself, sweetheart. Those four years meant nothing to me." and they never will.

Fucking hell. Why couldn't we have just lied down and not spoken. I wanted silence. Silence accompanied by silence. Not by any bullshit that Pandora has to say. But she always has to start something with me, then she fucking cries afterwards like she didn't just trigger me to the extent I want to kill myself by at least four times more than I had before arriving.

She clasps a hand over her mouth, muffling a sob, and suddenly, it feels as though I have been taken back to all of the times my mother mirrored those same very gestures and that same expression. Heartbreak. Disappointment.

"What is it about me that makes me so unlovable to you?" she says shakily, her words barely able to be understood. "Is it my hair? The way I look? I don't know, am I not tight enough for you?"

That's just it. Everything is about sex to her. Absolutely everything leads back to fucking sex.

I shake my head, yawning when I remember that sweet joint back at my apartment just waiting to be smoked.

Placing my finger beneath her chin, I tilt her face upward. "It's not you." I state and she sighs in relief. "It's me, sweetheart. I am unlovable. And I am incapable of giving love, so don't waste your breath on someone who wouldn't waste theirs for you."

She nods, sighing. "Okay."

That's all she can say before I leave. And I almost think that I have escaped when she stops me before the door. I think she's going to yell at me, but instead, her hand collides with my cheek. It stings slightly, but it doesn't hurt.

Before I can call her a fucking bitch or a cunt, she slams the door shut and I speed recklessly home to where I should have stayed in the first place.

A U T H O R ' S N O T E
hi everyone!
i hope you liked this chapter even though it was just a filler i just wanted to show more of what their 'relationship' is like. let me know what you think. also i'm trying to show that it isn't just one of them that is toxic but both. anyways i love you all and i'll see you soon. also thank you so much for almost 20k <3