E T E R N I T Y

a state to which time has no application; timelessness.

T O T H E

M O O N & B A C K

RORY PLACES HER weight on my stomach, her thighs straddling my sides as she stares down at me, wearing one of my T-shirts and a pair of my sweats—and if that wasn't enough, she's wearing my Nike socks too, her palms pressed against my bare chest as she peers down at me, her dark irises glistening.

"I love you." I say, the three words leaving a strange but welcomed taste on the tip of my tongue.

I'm still getting used to saying it.

A genuine smile tugs at her lips—something I haven't seen all that much of lately—and she leans down, pressing a delicate kiss to my lips, then, before I can kiss her back, she pulls away, pressing her nose to mine. "I love you, too."

She moves back to her original position and I bring the joint, which rests between my thumb and index finger, to my lips, inhaling, holding it in for a few seconds, then exhaling, causing a thick cloud of smoke to surround Rory.

I stare up at her with glassy eyes, my entire body ignited beneath her—or maybe I'm just really fucking high—and I just can't help but think about how I'm leaving tomorrow.

I still haven't told her. I was going to but then she passed out in the shower and after that, she was just really quiet and distant. She insisted that I left not long after but I refused. I made sure that she had something to drink and eat but not long after eating, she felt even worse than before, so I cuddled her, for hours, until she eventually fell asleep, and then I followed not too shortly after.

I awoke to her alarm at five AM but she got up and left. I fell asleep again and sometime later, she came back covered in sweat, her chest rising and falling as she pants, trying her hardest to control her breaths. She had a shower that lasted almost an entire hour, and then got ready for school, so we had no time to talk.

Then I went to work, and now I'm back here. With her. My last day with her for who knows how long and there is so much unsaid.

"What happened with your mother?"

Her eyes widen, caught off guard by my question and I internally cringe at how outright I was but I need to know. When I saw her last before I hit rock bottom again, her mother was back, and now that I am back, the family photographs in the hallway have been taken down, the television is cracked, and the dent in the couch where her mother last laid in before her departure remains the same.

"Nothing happened." she says, averting eye contact.

I narrow my eyes, tilting my head back to see her better. "Nothing happened?" I repeat, inhaling another puff of smoke, and then blowing it out.

Finally, her eyes meet mine and I think I see something actually shattering behind her eyes. "Yes," she confirms. "That's what my dad keeps saying. Nothing happened, Aurora. Like I didn't get woken up at two AM to my phone ringing. Guess who it was?" she pauses, laughing. "I unlocked the front door, and in came my mum. Her hair was a mess, she reeked of booze and she kept calling me Luna. I followed her around as she scoured the house—the junk drawers in the kitchen, under the couch. Eventually, my father awoke to the sound of things being shifted around and stormed downstairs. That was the last I saw of her before I went into my room and closed the door. Dad said the next morning that nothing happened but I saw the damage--I heard it. That was last Thursday. She left and never came back. I've tried calling but it goes straight to voicemail. She's probably too drunk to charge her phone."

The topic of her mother being an alcoholic has never come up in a conversation—in fact, Rory appears to be extremely aware of her mother being an addict and her father emotionally abusive, but whenever she talks about either one of her parents, she swerves around any word that paints them to be anything bad.

I think this is so hard for her because her mother may have never been conscious, but she was still there, and now it seems that her mother is conscious—though, barely—but no longer there.

She left. And that's never an easy thing to deal with. I wouldn't know, personally, but I can see it in her eyes. The hurt. The heartbreak. The betrayal.

Bringing the joint back to my lips I inhale deeper this time because holy fuck, I need a hit now more than ever.

"Rory," I say her name slowly as I attempt to come up with something decent to say but I can't seem to think of anything. Her mother left her and it's shitty but it's done and there is very little in which she can do. "I--"

Shaking her head, she smiles softly. "Don't. It's okay." I sigh, nodding. "Tell me a story." she says eagerly, like a child, gazing down at me as I inhale.

"What type of story?" I question, bringing the joint back to my lips.

Swiftly, she takes the joint from my fingertips just before I can inhale and places it between her dusty pink lips. I observe closely through glassy eyes as she inhales so deeply that her eyelids flutter shut, then she opens them again and they manage to find mine instantly.

Leaning down she presses her lips softly to mine and I part my lips as she breathes the smoke into my mouth, shifting on my lap and I moan against her. I lift my head, needing more and she pulls away. "Tell me a story about the worst thing that has ever happened to you." she urges in a whisper. "Because right now, I find it hard to believe it gets any worse than this—than being abandoned and let down by your own mother."

My heart aches in my chest for her. "Is that your worst fear?" I press lightly. "Abandonment?"

I have noticed that all of her worst experiences—the root of her sadness—all revolve around being abandoned. She lost her first love to a car crash, then her best friend because she knew what she wanted and she didn't, and now, her own mother.

Her eyebrows raise as though she was not at all prepared for that question nor was she expecting it. "I think so." she says, her eyebrows sinking back down their natural position, and then they sink even further as she frowns. "You know when I was a little girl, I used to cry myself to sleep each night once finding out that my family would die someday? I used to get so wound up about it--I still do. Imagine what six-year-old Rory would have done if she found out that at the ripe age of eighteen, she would have lost her entire family except for the one that made her feel the most lonely."

My sister used to worry about the same thing—Alula, that is. I used to hear her crying at night and when I would try to comfort her, she would always look at me in the eyes, and ask: "Does it not upset you too? Knowing that our parents are going to die one day?" I never knew what to say because even as an eight-year-old, I somehow knew that I wouldn't be alive to attend my mother's or father's funeral one day.

Rory's eyes water and she blinks, inhaling and I pout, hand darting up to stroke her cheek. She forces a tight smile, then brings the joint back to her lips, taking the last inhale before leaning over and placing the butt on the nightstand.

"Now you owe me a story and your biggest fear." she laughs, positioning herself so that the side of her head rests on my heart, the rest of her body intertwined with mine.

My biggest fear? "I'm not sure I have one."

"A fear?" she repeats and I hum in agreement. "That's impossible." she retorts. "Everyone is afraid of something. Aren't you scared of heights? Or drowning? Bugs, even?"

I shake my head, closing my eyes. Heights do not scare me because once you jump, the concept of height doesn't exist. Drowning does not scare me because if I were to fall into a body of water I would simply inhale and breathe the inevitable into my lungs

Shuddering, I say, "I do absolutely fucking hate spiders." I speak in disgust.

Rory begins to laugh and the sound vibrates throughout my entire body. Sitting upright again, she slowly lifts her shirt, revealing a black spider engraved into her skin, resting near her hip, just above the band of her underwear. "Does this scare you?"

Sliding my thumb over fresh ink, I avert my gaze to her eyes. "When did you do this?"

As my thumb continues softly stroking back and forth, she bites down on her bottom lip. "A few days ago."

I can tell by the way that the ink has begun to dry out and scab up, the untouched skin around it bruised. It's perfect.

Our conversation is cut short when her phone begins to ring. I know without looking that it's Ophelia. It's always Ophelia. For some reason, her constant texts and calls have been relentless lately.

Rory ignores it, shifting on my lap. "Are you two friends again?" I finally voice the question which I have been dying to ask.

"No," she says quickly and I sigh in relief. "But we have talked. She apologized for being so pushy and making me feel like I could have it all or nothing, no in between. I told her I felt like shit for leading her on. She doesn't know that I cheated on her with you, though. I think she's managed to put two and two together, though. The last time she saw us two together, we were making out at a party to piss her off and now you're picking me up after school and pulling me onto your lap, kissing me until every single person has left."

If Rory had cheated on anyone but Ophelia, I would feel the slightest of guilt, but I can't feel empathetic for her. I just can't.

I nod in understanding, shifting beneath her. Again, her phone rings. "You can answer it, you know?"

She shakes her head, looking down at me with bloodshot eyes. "She's only calling because she wants to know if I'm with you or not."

Freak.

I grin up at her. She narrows her eyes at me, giving me a look as if to say, what the bloody hell are you up to? Nothing, I just love your face.

"Come cuddle me."

A cheeky grin takes over her red lips as she slides off me, not caring to question me at all.

I look at her with intensity, taking in her small nose and it is in that moment that I realize how lovely she really is. All aspects of her—both physically and internally—contradict one another. Her features are so soft yet so striking. Her voice was loud yet whispering too. And her presence is weightless yet heavier than anything I have ever experienced.

My moonlight.

I reach out, grabbing her, then tugging her forward and she makes a noise as I pull her close. "You know," I say, breathless at how stunning one collection of cells and atoms can be. "I don't think I could live without you after this." It dawns on me and to think it is hard enough, but actually verbally admitting it is like swallowing a hard pill that gets stuck halfway down my throat.

Much to my dismay—though, not really—she laughs and I am reminded that much like myself, she is terrible at acting correctly in certain situations.

"What's so funny?" I question, lying back, pulling her down with me.

She snorts, then hums peacefully as my fingertips make their way between her strands of dark hair. "You can't be serious." Rory responds her tone portraying immense exhaustion. And I wonder what it is inside her head that brings her to believe that she is unworthy of being my reason. "You were perfectly fine before me."

Before her seems so long ago. I can barely remember a time when she wasn't there—even if just in my peripheral vision. But that's probably because before her I was smoking more than I was aware the average human was capable of consuming. I still am doing so most days even now, just not in front of her, but I just have more reason to pay attention now.

"Firstly, that's complete and utter bullshit." I retort bluntly and she stifles a laugh. "And secondly, before you and now are two completely different times. In any state, any place or time or situation, I don't—can't live without you. It sounds stupid but I could look at you forever and still feel like I haven't had enough of you."

Adoration sparkles in her dark irises and tugs at my heartstrings. "Atlas fucking Westbrook," she curses, her face hovering above mine so closely. "Even if one day we aren't together anymore, you'll still always be my beautiful boy, until every last planet dies."

At the mention of her and I being torn apart for any reason leaves a foul taste in my mouth and I want to bang my head against a fucking wall because how pathetic can one get?

"Why does it not seem to horrify you quite like it does me?" I murmur, glancing down at her red lips momentarily, then back to her strong gaze. "You say that like immortality exists."

With the subtle shake of her head, she smiles and it's lovely, just like her. "I don't think I could handle immortality—I don't want to me right now let alone forever." Me too. "But I could handle eternity because that extends beyond anything and everything. I will love you for eternity because that means if the big bang happens again and everything starts again, I'll love you again."

My heart pounds steadily but it's loud as I pull her down to me and kiss her like she's about to slip right through my fingertips but after her insight, I think the concept of eternity is more bearable than a time that resembles my life before her.

And really, nothing has changed except before I knew nothing of love and now I do. And don't get me wrong, leaving her behind would be the last thing I want, but if eternity can exist beyond us, then she will still have me, only I will no longer be wrapped around her, and instead awaiting her in the sky, knowing that one day I will have a planet that I can orbit until it eventually turns cold and the sun dries out and light-years pass by, and eternity just becomes darkness with no life or existence other than ghosts and whispers of what used to be.

What used to be was my fear of spiders.

"Okay." I whisper drowsily and even though she just recited words from the deepest depths of her soul, and only gained a word in response, she knows that I have never been good when it comes to words but I don't worry because even a fool could tell she put nothing but the stars in the sky for me. "I guess we pray eternity isn't as shit as before, then." 

"Even if eternity is hell, I will gladly walk through the burning flames with you holding my hand." 

Unable to help myself, I grin and she looks as though she just found eternity between my very lips. And so she moves toward them and locks eyes with mine and then she presses her mouth to my mine and I watch as her eyelids flutter shut and her tongue slides between my lips and she relaxes in my arms.

Both tired and aching to have her closer, my eyes close and whilst she searches for an eternity within an empty presence, I kiss her like I'm filled with promise and sincerity and eternity just to make her smile against my lips.

A U T H O R ' S  N O T E

two for you is the least i could do for you all deserve an eternity spent surrounded by a love just as dear as the type i try to portray in my stories.

the type of love which i feel for all of you for eternity.

i am officially a wattpad creator and all of my stories and my branding are a part of the creators program. i finally achieved something by doing what i love and you all helped by loving what i do. 

it's no hardcopy (fingers crossed for the future though rightttt) but it's something and it means the world to me to be seen and rewarded for my art.

this wouldn't be possible without any of you.

thank you again.