To The Moon and Back

𝟎𝟕 | 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞

U N I V E R S E

The universe is all of space and time and their contents, including planets, stars, galaxies, and all other forms of matter and energy.

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

MY VISION BLURRED as my friends shouted at me repeatedly to do the next shot. I stumbled, grasping the counter in attempts to keep myself up but I was fucked. I physically felt the life slipping away from me. It was hard to explain, I just felt. . .detached.

As people, some who I know and some who I don't, shouted do it! do it! do it! repeatedly, over and over, I grabbed the small shot glass and bought it to my lips, preparing for the vodka to slide down my throat but it was snatched from my fingertips.

"He's had enough." Alula growls at the countless people crowding around me. "Take him upstairs. Now." she growls at someone as my eyelids droop, concealing my vision.

I force my eyes open, seeing Pandora and Alula watching me, both with equally worried expressions. It felt as though I was visually impaired—well, temporarily—I couldn't see properly, everything appeared glassy and unclear.

I shake my head, stumbling back. "Fuck off." I spit, walking away from them, but I fall.

Fucking hell.

Someone holds a hand out to me, short nails painted black, chipped. Their long, porcelain fingers holding silver rings and black ink. "Watch your step." she jokes and I follow the soft voice as I crane my neck.

I see her. Pale and piercingly sweet and innocent, her glossy lips holding a sinful smile.

Aurora.

I reach for her hand and I am stunned by the coldness that her skin holds. London is freezing, especially this time of year, but this house was crammed with people and had been for hours, therefore the temperature isn't exactly as cold in here as it was out there.

She attempts to pull me up, but she isn't very strong, so I use the bench next to me to pull myself up.

I lean against the cupboard, folding my arms across my chest as I give her body a once over. She is petite, though, from a distance, she didn't look an inch below five-eight. Her straight, black hair is tucked behind her red ears, that thick red strip of hair peeking through. Her long eyelashes were thick and black, rimming glassy brown eyes. Thick lines of black travelled from her inner corner and pointed at the ends, lifting her face whilst her plump lips puckered.

Something about that fucking winged eyeliner. Fuck.

She wore a navy-blue shirt with a black turtle neck beneath it, the long sleeves covering the tattoos I know that she has. Over the turtle neck, layers of silver chains dangled over it, one holding a lock, the other a cross, and one having stars. Then on her legs were black jeans, ripped at the knees, and combat boots on her feet.

Even in all those layers, she looked on the verge of catching hypothermia.

"You're cold." I state dryly, my voice a slur.

Aurora Kingsley nods and then she laughs. "I am." she admits. "And you're idiotic. How many drinks have you had?"

I shrug. "A few." a few too many.

She laughs and rolls her eyes and I step forward. My veins were fueled by cheap vodka and expensive cocaine, the deadly combination giving me an awful lot of confidence—confidence which I wouldn't have much of if I wasn't high. If I were standing before any other girl, I would be fine, but her. . .I don't know her, I can't read her very well yet. I have only seen her three times, this being the third, and she's intimidating, nonetheless.