Only With You

03 | universe

03 | UNIVERSE

all existing matter and space considered as a whole; the cosmos.

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SUNLIGHT STABS MY EYES as soon as I wake up the next morning. Drums reverberate through the walls of my bedroom, so loud they rattle the glass-framed photo of David Bowie I have above my dresser. Every bang, crack, and ting thunderclaps against my skull.

For fuck's sake, Devin.

Even though it feels like I'm being weighed down by a lead apron, I find the strength to kick on my wall over and over as hard as I can until Devin stops drumming. Finally, silence. I fall back against my bed and grunt in exasperation because fuck my life, last night was beyond horrible. The memories are too cringeworthy to think about; I can't even bear it.

Through the walls, I hear Luna shout, "Fuck off, Devin!" and realize my kicking wasn't what shut him up. Him and Luna are fighting. Again. I bury my face in my pillow and scream.

When I drop it, Luna is standing in the door wearing a pair of pink pajama shorts, her thin legs long and willowy, accommodated by one of Devin's oversized grey tees. Her white-blonde hair is in a scraggly bun on top of her head, and judging by the death in her big blue eyes, her morning's been rough, too. Good. If we saw each other when I came in last night, I don't remember it.

"God, he's such an asshole," she says. "I went through his phone again and it's like he has no shame!"

"As if I care about your relationship problems right now, Luna."

Luna's eyes, still smeared with last night's makeup, blink at me. "Oh god, right. I am so sorry, Ari. We went out to have a smoke and then there was a cab there so we just took it. It was so shitty. We didn't even realize you weren't with us until we got home, but then I figured you'd be fine flirting with that guy. I feel bad, honestly—wait, holy shit, what happened to your face? Don't tell me the bartender—"

"No, it wasn't the bartender." I drape my forearm over my face. "It was my own damn fault. I always run my mouth."

"You know better than to get into a fight without me there to back you up."

I do know that. Luna and I were party animals in high school, which ended up in us getting into more than a few fights with other girls. Luna is scrawny, but those fists of hers can throw a punch.

"Yeah, well, you weren't there, were you?"

"'Kay, point taken. I deserve that."

"Damn right you do. Now help me up."

Acid reflux burns my esophagus when Luna hoists me out of bed. My head spins, but she keeps me upright and helps me to the hallway. It's a scene that's happened too many times since we both started drinking at fourteen; as much as Luna drives me nuts, we really do complete each other. Two halves of one dysfunctional whole.

"Wow, you really did have a bad night," she says. "How'd you get home, anyway?"

I don't respond as we enter the living room. Devin is sprawled out in his pajamas playing The Witcher, his long brown hair in tangles over his shirtless shoulders, obviously not giving a fuck about whatever fight they just had. Caroline is on the loveseat glued to her phone, and evidence of last night's after party is all over the coffee table: beer cans, chips, cigarette butts.

"Looks like you guys had a grand old time last night," I say.

"Oh, shit." Caroline does a double take and rushes over to me. The serious look on her face says she's about to go Full Nurse. We work at the same hospital, but at twenty-five, Caroline is way more of a real adult than me. I give short answers as she quizzes me on how I'm feeling.