Atlas stepped inside.
Each footstep echoed—too loud in the space. Noah watched his shoes on the hardwood. Expensive leather. Polished. Like everything about Atlas. Put together even when falling apart.
Noah closed the door. His hand slipped on the handle. Sweaty.
"Want something to drink?"
The offer hung there. Desperate. Pathetic.
"No."
One word. Atlas's voice was flat. Controlled. But Noah heard the edge underneath. The fracture.
They moved to the living room. Noah's new couch. Atlas sat on the opposite one.
The coffee table between them might as well have been an ocean.
Noah sat. His hands wouldn't stop shaking. He pressed them between his knees. Squeezed tight. Focused on the pressure. Anything but Atlas's face.
But he had to look eventually.
Atlas was watching him. Eyes dark. Unreadable. That boardroom expression. The mask Noah had learned to hate because it meant Atlas was hiding.
The silence stretched. Noah's throat was closing. He swallowed. It hurt.
A car horn blared outside. Someone laughed. The city moving on like they weren't sitting here dying.
Atlas spoke first. "Two days." His jaw barely moved. "You built yourself a whole new life."
The words were measured. Too careful. Like he'd practiced them.
Noah's fingernails dug into his palms through the fabric of his pants. "Didn't want to stay in that apartment."
"Why not?"
Because it smelled like you. Because I couldn't breathe there. Because every corner reminded me I'd fucked everything up.
"Just needed something new."
Atlas's eyes swept the room. Taking inventory. The couch. The table. The empty walls Noah hadn't had time to fill.
"You work fast."
It wasn't a compliment.
Noah's chest tightened. His ribs felt like they were contracting, squeezing his lungs. "I'm sorry. For what I said Sunday."
"You said what you were thinking."
The words landed like a slap. Noah flinched. Actually flinched.
Atlas saw it. Something flickered across his face—too fast to catch. Then gone. Locked back down.
"I didn't—" Noah stopped. Started again. His voice came out rough. Raw. "I didn't mean it the way it sounded."
"Didn't you?" Atlas leaned forward slightly. Elbows on his knees. Hands clasped. Knuckles white. "You asked if we'd stay friends after we broke up. Pretty clear what you were thinking."
"I was scared."
"Of what?"
"Of you leaving." The words burst out before Noah could stop them. Before he could make them sound less desperate. Less pathetic.
Atlas went very still. His hands tightened. Bones showing through skin.
"I've never—" His voice caught. He stopped. Breathed through his nose. Controlled. "I've never said I was leaving."
"You didn't have to say it." Noah's throat burned. His eyes burned. He blinked hard. "You looked at me like I'd already left."
Atlas's jaw clenched. A muscle jumped in his cheek. He looked away—out the window at the darkening sky.
Noah watched his profile. The sharp line of his jaw. The way his throat worked when he swallowed. Once. Twice.
He's trying not to cry.
The thought hit Noah like a punch to the chest.
Atlas never cried. Never lost control. Never let anything crack the surface.
But his hands were shaking now. Just slightly. He pressed them together harder. Knuckles gone bloodless.
"You want to break up?" Atlas's voice came out quiet. Too quiet. Like if he said it any louder it might become real.
Noah's stomach dropped. "No."
"Then what do you want?"
"I don't know." Noah's voice cracked. He cleared his throat. Tried again. "I don't want to be with someone I don't know."
"You think you don't know me?"
"I think you don't let me know you."
Atlas turned back. His eyes were darker now. Glittering. Wet.
Oh god. He is crying. He just won't let it fall.
"What do you want to know?" Atlas's words were sharp. Defensive. "Ask. I'll tell you whatever you want."
"I don't want to interrogate you."
"Then what?" Atlas's voice rose slightly. Just slightly. The first crack in his control. "What do you want from me, Noah?"
The sound of his name in Atlas's mouth did something to Noah's chest. Broke something open.
"I just—" His voice wavered. His vision blurred. He blinked hard. Blinked again. "I wanted to understand. If you stayed friends with them. If they were still in your life. If I was just—" He stopped.
"Just what?"
"Just the next one."
The words came out barely above a whisper. But they landed like thunder.
Atlas's breath caught. Audible. Painful.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then Atlas stood. Crossed the space. Sat on the coffee table directly in front of Noah. Close enough that their knees almost touched.
Noah looked up. Atlas's face was so close he could see everything. The slight redness around his eyes. The way his jaw kept clenching and unclenasing. The rapid pulse in his neck.
"You're not." Atlas's voice was rough. Scraped raw. "You're not just the next anything."
Noah's throat closed completely. A tear slipped down before he could stop it. He wiped it away fast. Too fast. Like he could hide it.
Atlas saw. His hand came up—hesitated—then touched Noah's face. Thumb brushing where the tear had been.
His hand was shaking.
"I don't stay friends with exes," Atlas said. Each word deliberate. Forced out. "I don't keep in touch. I don't look back."
"Why not?"
"Because it's easier. Because if it's over, it's over. Because I don't—" He stopped. His throat worked. "I don't do halfway."
Noah stared at him. At the way Atlas's eyes were bright with tears he wouldn't let fall. At the way his fingers trembled against Noah's cheek.
"You think you're the next one," Atlas continued. His voice broke on the last word. He cleared his throat. Tried to steady himself. Failed. "You think I'm going to wake up and be done. Like I was with her."
Noah couldn't speak. Could barely breathe.
"It took me two years to realize he wasn't right. That we weren't right." Atlas's thumb moved slowly across Noah's cheekbone. Back and forth. An anchor. "It took me two minutes to know you were."
Noah's breath punched out. Another tear fell. Then another. He couldn't stop them anymore.
Atlas's voice cracked completely. "Since you looked at me with those fucking innocent eyes and I knew—I knew—I was in trouble."
Noah laughed. Wet. Broken. "That's not romantic."
"It's true." Atlas's other hand came up. Cupped Noah's face. Both hands shaking now. "You terrify me. What I feel for you terrifies me."
"I terrify you?" Noah's voice came out high. Disbelieving. "You're the one who—who shuts down. Who goes silent. Who makes me feel like I'm—"
His voice broke. He couldn't finish.
Atlas pulled him forward. Pressed their foreheads together. His breath was shaky. Uneven.
"I'm sorry." The words came out strangled. "I'm sorry I made you feel like that. I'm sorry I—"
He stopped. Noah felt a warm drop hit his hand. Then another.
Atlas was crying. Actually crying. Silently. Tears sliding down his face while his whole body stayed rigid. Controlled. Like he could contain it through sheer force of will.
Noah's hands came up. Gripped Atlas's wrists. Held on.
"I'm sorry too," he whispered. "For comparing us to them. For making you think I wanted to leave. I don't. I don't want to leave."
Atlas's hands tightened on his face. Almost painful. "Don't." His voice was wrecked. Barely recognizable. "Don't ever make me think that again. I can't—"
He broke off. Couldn't finish.
Noah pulled him closer. Their noses bumped. He could taste salt. Couldn't tell if it was his tears or Atlas's.
"I love you," Noah whispered. "I'm so in love with you it scares me."
Atlas's breath hitched. His eyes squeezed shut. Two more tears escaped.
"Say it again."
"I love you."
"Again."
"I love you." Noah's hands slid up. Cupped Atlas's face. His thumbs caught the tears Atlas was trying so hard to hide. "I love you. I love you. I love you."
Atlas made a sound. Something between a laugh and a sob. He pulled Noah to him—sudden, desperate—and buried his face in Noah's neck.
Noah felt him shaking. Felt the dampness against his skin. Felt Atlas's hands fisted in his shirt like he was afraid to let go.
"I love you too." The words came out muffled. Broken. "God, Noah. I love you too."
They held each other like that. On the couch. In the new apartment. In the space Noah had built to run away and Atlas had found him anyway.
Noah's fingers tangled in Atlas's hair. He felt every breath. Every tremor. Every moment of Atlas letting himself break just enough to be put back together.
"I'm not going anywhere," Atlas said against his skin. "You understand? I'm here. I'm staying."
Noah nodded. Couldn't speak. His throat was too tight. His face was wet. He didn't care anymore.
Atlas pulled back just enough to look at him. His eyes were red. Swollen. The mask completely gone. Just Atlas. Raw and real and wrecked.
"We're going to fuck this up sometimes," Atlas said. His voice was hoarse. Destroyed. "We're going to hurt each other. But I need you to know—" He stopped. Swallowed hard. "I'm not leaving. Even when it's hard. Even when we're both being stupid. I'm here."
Noah's hands came up. Wiped at Atlas's face even though his own was just as wet. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay." Noah pulled him back in. Kissed him soft. Slow. Tasting salt and relief and something that felt like coming home.
Atlas kissed back like he was memorizing it. Like he was making a promise.
When they broke apart, they pressed their foreheads together again. Breathing the same air. Both of their faces wet. Both of their hands shaking.
"No more running," Atlas whispered.
"No more shutting me out," Noah whispered back.
"Deal."
They sat like that until the tears dried on their faces. Until their breathing steadied. Until the shaking stopped.
The city hummed outside. Indifferent. Eternal.
Inside, they held on.
And for the first time in two days, Noah could breathe.
For the first time in two days, Atlas could unclench his jaw.
They were okay. Not perfect. Not fixed.
They sank onto the couch together.
Still holding on. Atlas's arm around Noah's shoulders. Noah's hand fisted in Atlas's shirt.
Like if they let go, the other might disappear.
The doorbell rang. Sharp. Intrusive.
---
Noah jerked. "Shit."
He stood. Atlas's hand slipped from his waist reluctantly.
Walked to the door.
Opened it.
"NOAH!"
Lydia launched herself at him.
Arms around his neck. Kissing his cheek. Her perfume sweet and overwhelming.
Noah caught her. Laughed despite himself. "Jesus, Lydia—"
She pulled back. Grinning. Face bright. "I missed you!"
"It's been two weeks."
"That's forever!"
She pushed past him into the apartment. Energy filling the space.
Stopped.
Saw Atlas standing in the living room entrance. Still. Watching.
Her eyes widened. Then she grinned. "Hi, Atlas!"
She walked over. Hugged him too. Kissed his cheek.
Atlas looked slightly stunned. His hands came up—unsure where to put them.
Lydia pulled back. Looked between them. Still grinning. Reading the room. "You two look like you just had a fight-and-makeup talk."
Noah's face heated. "Stop being nosy."
"Can't help it. I'm invested." She held up a bag. "I brought dinner! I'm starving. Let's eat."
---
KITCHEN
Noah showed Lydia to the guest room. "Unpack. We'll get things ready."
"Okay!" She disappeared down the hall. Door closing behind her.
Atlas and Noah moved to the kitchen.
Atlas leaned against the counter. Pulled Noah between his legs.
Wrapped his arms around him. Noah fit there perfectly.
"Sorry," Noah murmured. "She's a lot."
"Don't apologize." Atlas's voice was warm. Breath against Noah's temple. "It's fine."
Noah looked up at him. Their eyes met.
Atlas kissed his forehead. Soft. Lingering. His lips stayed there an extra second.
Noah's hands came up. Rested on Atlas's chest. He could feel his heartbeat. Still faster than normal. Still recovering from earlier.
They stood like that. Quiet. Just breathing each other in.
Footsteps bounded down the hall. Fast. Energetic.
"Okay! So—OH MY GOD."
They both looked up.
Lydia stood in the doorway. Phone already out. Grinning like she'd won the lottery.
"Are you two always this romantic or is this a special occasion?"
Noah's face went red. He tried to step back. Atlas's arms tightened. Didn't let him go.
She hopped up on the counter. Legs swinging. "So. Atlas. What are your intentions with my brother?"
Atlas's mouth curved. "Serious question?"
"Very serious." But she was grinning. Eyes sparkling.
Noah covered his face with his hands. "Please stop talking."
"My intentions," Atlas said slowly, deliberately, his eyes finding Noah's, "are to keep him. For as long as he'll have me."
Lydia squealed. Actually squealed. "Oh my god that's so—Noah why are you blushing?"
"I'm not—"
"You are! Your ears are red!"
Atlas laughed. Quiet. But real. His hand squeezed Noah's hip.
"You're the worst," Noah told his sister.
"You love me." She slid off the counter. Started opening cabinets. "Okay so what are we cooking? Please tell me you bought actual food and not just like... crackers."
Noah opened the fridge. "I bought ingredients."
"Do you know what to do with ingredients?"
"I was going to figure it out."
Lydia turned to Atlas. "Can you cook?"
"Yes."
"Thank god. Okay. You're in charge. Noah can chop things. I'll supervise and provide entertainment."
Atlas raised an eyebrow. "Supervise?"
"Someone has to make sure you two don't get distracted making out over the vegetables."
Noah threw a dish towel at her. She caught it. Laughing.
Atlas watched them. The easy way they moved around each other. The comfortable teasing. Brother and sister.
Something in his chest loosened.
This is what family looks like.
He'd forgotten what that felt like.
"Atlas?" Lydia was looking at him. Curious. "You okay?"
He nodded. "Yeah. Just thinking."
"About?"
"How Noah's lucky to have you."
Lydia blinked. Then her whole face lit up. "Oh. Oh you're good. Noah you should keep him."
"Planning on it," Noah said softly.
Their eyes met across the kitchen. Held.
"Okay okay, stop being cute and teach me how to make pasta," Lydia demanded. "And tell me everything. Who asked who out first? When did you know? I want all the details."
Noah's face went red again. "Lydia—"
"What? These are normal questions!"
Atlas's mouth twitched. He glanced at Noah. "I saw him and thought he was trouble."
"Good trouble or bad trouble?"
"Both."
Lydia grinned. "I like that answer. Okay Noah, your turn. What did you think?"
Noah was chopping tomatoes with intense focus. "I thought he was intimidating."
"And hot?"
"Lydia!"
"I'm eighteen, not eight. I can say hot." She turned to Atlas. "He definitely thought you were hot."
"Good to know," Atlas said dryly.
But Noah caught the small smile. The way Atlas's shoulders had relaxed. The way he was actually engaging instead of using that polite mask.
He's comfortable. With her. Already.
Noah's chest warmed.
Lydia hopped up on the counter again. Watched Atlas work. "So you're like, a CEO or something?"
"Something like that."
"That's so cool. I wanna be a CEO someday. Or a fashion designer. Or maybe a photographer. I haven't decided yet." She swung her legs. "Noah says you're really smart."
"Noah talks about me that much?"
She grinned at her brother. "He's like, obsessed with you."
"I'm not obsessed—"
"You literally check your phone every five minutes to see if he texted."
Noah's face was burning. "Can we please talk about literally anything else?"
"No." Lydia turned back to Atlas. "So. What do you like about Noah?"
Atlas paused. His knife stilled on the cutting board.
He looked at Noah. Really looked.
"Everything."
One word. But the way he said it. Low. Sincere. Final.
Lydia made a sound. "Okay that was smooth. I'm impressed."
Noah couldn't speak. Couldn't look away.
"Alright lovebirds," Lydia announced. "I'm gonna go check out the rest of the apartment. You two have like, three minutes to kiss or whatever before I come back."
She hopped down. Walked out. Still talking to herself. "This place is so nice. Way better than that depressing apartment. That couch looks expensive. Ooh, is that a balcony?"
Her voice faded down the hall.
Noah and Atlas looked at each other.
"She's—"
"A lot," Atlas finished. But he was smiling. "I like her."
"Really?"
"Really." He pulled Noah closer. "She's like you. But with less filter."
"That's terrifying."
Atlas kissed him. Soft. Sweet. "It's perfect."
They heard Lydia's voice from the living room: "Three minutes means three minutes! I'm timing you!"
Noah laughed against Atlas's mouth. "We should—"
"Yeah."
But neither of them moved. Not yet.
Just one more second of this. Just them.