To The Moon and Back

𝟑𝟒 | 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐞

S O L A R  F L A R E

A bright eruption of hot gas in the Sun's photosphere. Solar prominences are usually only detectable by specialized instruments but can be visible during a total solar eclipse.

T O  T H E
M O O N & B A C K

WE ARRIVE AT the venue, parking my R34 down the street, my car looking out of place amongst the variety of priceless, yet hideous cars. There is a valet service but I plan on being in and out quickly, so I would rather only have to cross the street and walk for two minutes, rather than wait for some rich prick in a vest to fetch my car for me.

I exit the car, slamming for the door shut. I glance over at Rory who stands on the footpath, hugging herself as she shivers. I walk around the front of the car and step toward her. When she looks at me, she smiles an amused smile.

"Atlas, relax." she says, nudging me with her shoulder. "You look good!"

I narrow my eyes at her. I feel stupendous. I'm wearing a suit. A fucking suit. Black-tie, black trousers, black dress shirt, and I refused to wear the fucking shoes my mother provided, so I'm wearing my Converse with Rory's name engraved into the sole instead.

Rory attempted to style my hair a little, but I have too much hair to even begin to do anything with, hence why it always remains an untouched mess on my head.

"Then why are you laughing?" I glare at her.

Again, she fucking laughs. "Because you're acting like there's something stuck up your ass." she retorts and my eyes narrow even more. "You look hot, baby. Losen up."

Rolling my eyes, I lean forward and press a kiss to her forehead.

She smiles, taking my hand with hers, but her faux confidence isn't all that believable. I think—I know that she's just projecting her insecurities onto me because she too doesn't look all that comfortable. 

I haven't known Rory all that long, but I in the short time—that I remember, which is little—I have never seen her stray away from wearing jeans, jumpers, track pants, and t-shirts that are a minimum of three sizes too big. So her allowing me to experience her like this is a big step for her.

I know she isn't confident within herself. She doesn't like the way her body appears, so she covers it as best she can. With make-up, oversized clothing, and countless tattoos.

When I first arrived down the street from her house, seeing her stand there, I had to look twice. Her hair was straight, per usual, tucked behind her ears, that vibrant strand of hair on display. I didn't think she owned a dress but she did. It was short, with a slit going up her thigh. Long-sleeved with a heart-shaped neckline, fitting tightly around every curve of her body, and tight at her waist. At the ends of her sleeves and the bottom of her dress, thin black lace wraps around her thighs and her wrists.

My eyes travel down to her legs, covered by fish-net stockings, and Converse on her feet with my name on the side. 

Her beauty reminds me of a solar flare, so bright that it hurts, but impossible not to look at.

"Are you sure you want to go in?" I ask, my voice wavering with anxiety as I glance over the street at the lit-up building, heavily crowded outside by cars and cameras and people. "We can leave. I can tell my mum you got sick or—"

Rory silences me with the shake of her head. "No, it's fine." she says. "I'm not really family meeting material, but I want to meet the people that created my favourite person on earth."