Noah got home and dropped onto the couch.
He sat there. Didn't move. The apartment was too quiet. He could hear the hum of the refrigerator. A car passing outside. His own breathing.
None of this is real.
He got up. Walked to the kitchen. Filled the kettle. His hands were steady now. That was worse somehow.
His phone buzzed on the counter.
Atlas.
Noah stared at the screen. The name glowing. His thumb hovered over it.
He set it down. Face down.
The kettle boiled. He poured water over instant coffee. Watched it turn brown. Didn't drink it.
The phone buzzed again.
He left it.
Went back to the couch. Lay down. Stared at the ceiling. There was a crack running from the corner to the light fixture. He'd never noticed it before.
He thought about Atlas. The first time they kissed. The way Atlas had looked at him after—like Noah was the only person in the room. When did that stop?
One week ago? Two weeks?
He didn't know.
Someone knocked on the door.
Noah's stomach dropped. Like an elevator cable snapping. He sat up too fast. The room tilted.
Another knock. Louder. More insistent.
He stood. His legs were heavy. Wrong. Like they belonged to someone else. He walked to the door. Each step took effort. He opened it.
Atlas.
They stared at each other.
Noah forgot to breathe. Then remembered. Sucked in air too fast. It burned.
Atlas stepped inside. Didn't wait. Didn't ask. Just walked past him into the apartment. Noah smelled his cologne. Cedar and something else. His stomach turned.
Noah closed the door. His hand stayed on the knob. The metal was cold. Then warm. Then he couldn't feel it anymore.
Atlas stood in the middle of the room. Hands in his pockets. Looking at Noah. His posture was perfect. Shoulders back. Like he was about to give a presentation.
Noah turned. Looked at the wall. The floor. The window. Anywhere else.
Silence.
The refrigerator hummed. A clock ticked somewhere. Noah's ears started ringing.
"What's wrong?" Atlas asked. His voice was controlled. Even.
Noah's fingers slipped off the doorknob. He pressed his palm flat against the door. The wood was cool.
"What's wrong," he repeated. His voice came out wrong. Flat. Like someone else was speaking.
"Yeah. You haven't been—" Atlas stopped. "You haven't been answering."
Noah laughed. No sound came out. Just air. "You're asking me that."
"I'm asking."
"The problem—" Noah stopped. His chest felt tight. Not tight. Hollow. Like something had been scooped out. He pressed his hand against it. Felt his heartbeat. Too fast. "The problem is you."
Atlas went completely still. His weight shifted back onto his heels.
"What does that mean?"
"It means I can't do this anymore."
"Do what?"
Noah finally let go of the door. Turned to face him. "This. Us. I can't—" His voice caught. He swallowed. His throat clicked. "I can't keep doing this."
Atlas stared at him. His left eye twitched. Just once. "Noah, if this is about the party—"
"It's about everything!" Noah's voice cracked. "The party was just the final proof."
"What are you saying?"
"We should break up."
The words fell between them.
Silence. Five seconds. Ten. Fifteen.
Atlas's hand came out of his pocket. Reached for the couch. His palm landed on the armrest. Pressed down. His arm started trembling. Not his hand. His whole arm.
"Why?"
"Why?" Noah's voice went up. Too high. He cleared his throat. It didn't help. "The last few days. How you've been. The fucking—the video. Liam. All of it."
Atlas's shoulders pulled back. His spine straightened. His breathing got shallow. Fast. "What video?"
Noah pulled out his phone. His fingers wouldn't work right. Dropped it. Picked it up. Dropped it again. Finally got it unlocked. Opened Instagram. Found the post. Turned it toward Atlas.
The video played. A woman's hand on his arm, her laugh too close to his ear. A man beside them, leaning in — their shoulders almost touching. Atlas laughing. Head tilted back. Relaxed. Open. All of them laughing.
Caption: new love 💕
Comments underneath: omg they're perfect togetherwait who is she??Atlas looks so happy
Noah watched Atlas watch it. The room felt smaller. The walls closer.
He's going to lie.
Atlas's face didn't move. His chest rose and fell. Rose and fell. Too fast. Then he looked up. "They're friends."
"I don't care."
"Noah, they're just—"
"I said I don't fucking care."
"You're being—" Atlas stopped. His teeth came together. "You're being unreasonable."
Noah's vision tunneled. The edges went dark. "Unreasonable."
"Yes. If you'd just let me—"
"Is that it?" Noah's voice cracked. Went high again. He hated it. "You think that's the only problem?"
Atlas stepped forward. His hands came out of his pockets. "Then what? What do you want me to say?"
"What are the other—" Noah stopped. His hand went to his hair. Pulled. A few strands came out. He looked at them. Let them fall. "We're too different. I can't be myself around you."
"That's not—what does that even mean?"
"We're different in every way." Noah's voice was rising. "You know it. You get so—you tense up so fast. You shut me out. You don't talk. You just close off and I—" He stopped. Tried to breathe. Couldn't get enough air. Tried again. His chest hurt. Like something was pressing down. "I can't do it."
Atlas stood there. His chest was rising and falling too fast. His nostrils flared with each breath. "I'm trying. You know I'm—"
"Are you?" Noah's voice went sharp. "Because it doesn't feel like it."
"What do you want from me?" Atlas's voice rose. Just a little. Losing control. "I'm here. I came here. What more—"
"The last few days have been hell," Noah cut in. His voice was shaking now. Breaking on every other word. "And I—I kept thinking maybe we'd be like other couples but we're not. We won't be."
"What other couples?" Atlas's voice was quiet now. Wrong. Dangerous.
Noah took a breath. It came out shaky. Uneven. "Like Alice and Sienna. Like people who actually talk to each other."
"So this relationship is exhausting you."
"Yes."
"Just you?" Atlas's voice cut. Sharp. "I'm not exhausted too? You think this is easy for me?"
Noah's hands curled. His nails bit into his palms. Deeper. He felt the skin break. Warm wetness. "That's the problem. I don't know what you feel. You don't tell me anything. We talk about—about weather and work and nothing that matters."
Atlas's breathing got faster. His lips parted. He was hyperventilating. "That's not—I do tell you. You just don't—"
"Don't what?" Noah's voice rose. "Don't listen? Is that what you were gonna say?"
Atlas's whole face twitched. His breathing came in short pulls now. He put a hand to his chest. "If I had photos with my ex," Noah said. Each word slow. Deliberate. "Like Liam has with you. You'd lose your shit. Or that video—if my friends posted something like that, you'd start a fight."
"That's different."
"How?" Noah's voice went high. "How is that different?"
"Because—" Atlas stopped. His teeth started chattering. Not from cold. From something else. "Because I trust you."
"You do whatever you want," Noah continued. His voice was shaking. "But when I see my friends, when I spend time with people, it's a problem. When I—"
"What do you mean 'do whatever I want'?"
"You know what I mean."
"No. Say it." Atlas took a step forward. His hands were shaking now. "Say what you're actually trying to say."
"You're with whoever you want."
"Are you—" Atlas's voice went sharp. High. Not his voice anymore. "Are you saying I cheated?"
"I'm not saying anything." Noah's voice was flat now. Dead. "And if you did, how would I even know?"
Atlas moved. Fast. Crossed the room.
"Don't." Noah stepped back. Hit the wall. His shoulder blades pressed against it. "Don't come near me."
"How can you—" Atlas stopped. A foot away. Close enough that Noah could feel the heat coming off him. Could smell his cologne. Coffee. Something sour underneath.
"How can you even think that?" His voice was raw, stripped bare. He searched Noah's averted face, his own crumbling with each second of silence. "Why won't you look at me?"
"Because I don't want to remember you like this."
"Remember me?" Atlas's voice went up. "What are you—this sounds like you've already decided."
Noah said nothing.
"Have you?" Atlas asked. His voice was smaller now. "Have you already decided?"
Atlas's hand moved. Curled. His fingernails dug into his own palm. Blood welled up. Dripped onto the floor. He didn't notice.
"Was it that bad?" Atlas asked. His voice barely there. "These last few days. Was I—was it really that bad?"
"Yes."
Nothing.
Just breathing. The refrigerator. A siren far away. Getting closer. Then farther. Then gone.
Noah counted. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty.
This isn't real. I'm watching this happen to someone else.
But he wasn't.
"Couples talk," Noah said. His voice cracked. Went strange in the middle. "Normal couples—when there's a problem they talk about it. But we can't. Or maybe—maybe this is just how you end things."
Atlas's eyes filled. Fast. He blinked. Water ran down his face. He didn't wipe it. "I don't want to end things."
"Then what do you want?"
"I want—" Atlas's voice went rough. "I want you to talk to me. Not like this. Not—"
"We are talking."
"No." Atlas shook his head. His breathing was ragged now. "No, you're leaving. You've already left."
Noah's vision blurred. He blinked hard. Everything went wet. He turned his head. Pressed his palm against his eye. Hard enough to hurt.
"Let's just end it," he said. His voice came out rough. Wrong. "Let's not—let's not make this worse."
"How can it be worse?" Atlas's voice rose. "You're—you're breaking up with me and you won't even look at me."
Atlas stepped back. His legs buckled. He caught himself on the couch. Lowered himself down. Put his head in his hands. His shoulders started shaking.
They sat in silence.
Noah's heart was too loud. He could hear it in his ears. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. His chest hurt. Like something was crushing it from the inside.
Twenty seconds.
Thirty.
Forty.
The room felt like it was spinning. Noah put his hand against the wall. Steadied himself.
Breathe. Just breathe.
"You're not gonna say anything?" Noah asked. His voice was small. "Like always. I'm the one—" His voice went rough. "I'm always the one talking."
Atlas lifted his head. His face was wet. Red. His eyes were swollen. He ran both hands through his hair. Pulled. Hard. "Is that why you've been distant? These last few days? You were deciding this?"
Noah's head snapped up. The room tilted. "I was distant?"
"You didn't answer when I called. You didn't—"
"You were the one who disappeared." Noah's voice cracked. Went high. "You were the stranger. I tried—I fucking tried to reach you and you just—" He stopped. Forgot what he was saying. The words scattered. Started again. "You ignored me. Again."
"I wasn't—" Atlas stood. Too fast. His knee hit the coffee table. He stumbled. Caught himself. "I wasn't ignoring you."
"Then what were you doing?"
Atlas turned his back. His whole body trembled. His shoulders. His back. His legs. "I was trying to figure it out."
"Figure what out?"
"How to—" Atlas's voice went rough. High. "How to be what you need."
Noah saw it. Felt something sharp in his chest. Not cracking. Tearing. His own face was wet. When did that start? He touched his cheek. His hand came away wet.
He's lying. He has to be lying.
But what if he wasn't?
He wiped at his face. It kept coming. He couldn't stop it.
"Let's just—" He took a breath. It rattled. Went strange. Like something was loose in his chest. "Let's just end it."
Atlas turned. His face was wet. His eyes were red. Desperate. "You wanted this from the beginning. From the moment we got together you were looking for a way out."
"That's not—"
"It is." Atlas's voice went loud. Raw. "You never believed in this. In us."
"It's not." Noah's voice went high. Desperate. "You know that's not true."
"Then what?" Atlas's voice cracked. Went rough. "What the fuck is it? Because I'm—I'm trying and it's not enough. Nothing I do is enough."
Noah forgot to breathe. Then gasped. Too loud. "When I was with you—" He stopped. Tried again. The words came out wrong. Scattered. "I always felt like you were gonna leave. Like I was—like I was temporary. But these last few days you weren't just gonna leave. You were already gone."
Atlas turned. Tried to look at Noah's face. "That's not—I wasn't gone. I was right there."
Noah turned away. His vision was blurring. He blinked. Everything went wet again. "No. You weren't."
"Let's stop," Noah said. His voice was quiet now. Flat. "You got what you wanted. Let's just—let's end it here."
Atlas's hand went back to the couch. His palm pressed down. His whole arm started shaking again. "I got what I wanted?" His voice went up. Almost a laugh. "You think I wanted this?"
"If you don't have anything else—"
"I'm sorry." Atlas's voice went rough. Desperate. "Is that what you want to hear? I'm sorry."
Noah looked up. His vision was blurred. He blinked. Atlas came into focus. His face was red. Wet. His posture was wrong. Shoulders forward. Collapsing inward.
He looks small.
"You exhausted me," Noah said. His voice came out loud. Angry. Then went rough. "I don't—I'm not asking for your fucking apology."
"Then what?" Atlas's voice went high. "What do you want?"
"And I don't want to see you." Noah's voice went rough. He hiccuped. It came out wet. Ugly. "I don't want anything to do with you."
"You know I love you."
The words hit Noah like a punch. His ears rang. He heard them. Understood them. Felt nothing.
You don't. You can't. Because if you did, this wouldn't hurt this much.
He laughed. It came out as something else. Wet. Choked. "Love is supposed to be felt. I didn't—I didn't feel it. Maybe you made other people feel it. Liam. Whoever else. But me?" His voice went high. Went strange. "The last few days you made me feel like nothing."
He stopped. His chest was heaving. He couldn't get enough air. The room was spinning.
"Maybe Liam coming back fucked with your head," he continued. His voice was shaking. Going rough. "Maybe that's why you ignored me. And now you're here saying you love me."
"I ran into him by accident." Atlas's voice was tight. Wrong. His words came out too fast. Tripping over each other. "Him and me—we're done. We've been done for years. You have to—"
"I don't have to do anything."
"Please." Atlas's hands were shaking. He pressed them together. They still shook. His fingers went numb. Cold. "Please just—can we stop? Can we just—can we talk about this tomorrow? When we're—"
"How long are we gonna do this?" Noah asked. His voice was small.
"Until you forgive me."
"I forgive you." Noah's voice cracked. Went rough. "But I don't want you in my life."
"Do you hate me?"
Noah looked at him. Really looked. His vision was blurred. He blinked hard. Atlas was shaking. His whole body. Like he was cold. "Is that what you got from this? From everything I just said?"
Silence.
Ten seconds.
Twenty.
The refrigerator hummed. The clock ticked. Noah's chest hurt.
"Atlas." Noah's voice went rough on his name. Went high. Desperate. "Please. Let's just stop."
"No. Please. Not yet. Just—give me a minute to fix this."
"It's over for me." Noah stood. His legs were weak. Wrong. They almost gave out. He caught himself on the arm of the couch. Walked to the window. His steps were uneven. Wrong. He looked down at the street. Cars passing. People walking. Everything normal. Everything fine.
How is everything fine down there?
He turned back. "The person I saw these last three days—he was cold. Selfish. He was cruel."
He stopped. His throat went tight. He couldn't speak. Tried again. "And then at the party you left me standing there. You were laughing with them. Being real with them. And people—" His voice went rough. Went high. "People are saying you're in love."
He wiped at his face. His hand came away wet. He didn't care.
"I can't be with someone like that."
"Let me introduce you," Atlas said. His voice was shaking. Desperate. "They're just friends. I can—we can all get dinner. You'll see. You'll—"
"It's not about them." Noah's voice was hollow now. Empty. Wrong. Like it was coming from somewhere else. "You can be with them. I don't care. But when you're with me you're cold. You're controlled. You're mean. And with them you're—you're actually there."
Atlas moved toward him. His steps were slow. Uneven. "I didn't know—I didn't know you felt that way."
Noah backed up. Hit the window. The glass was cold against his back. "Don't."
"Please just—" Atlas stopped. "Please just listen."
"I didn't mean to—" Atlas's voice went rough. High. Desperate. "I didn't want to make you feel that way. I didn't—I thought—"
"You always say that." Noah's voice was rising again. Going rough. "In high school. College. Every time you ignored me. Every time we were at the same place and you were cold to me but close with everyone else. And it shows up online and people say you're in love with them."
"That's not—those people don't matter. You matter. You're the one—"
"Stop."
"No. Listen to me." Atlas reached for him. His hand was shaking. He pulled Noah close. Wrapped his arms around him. Tight. "Please. Please just listen."
Noah froze.
His vision went dark at the edges. His ears rang. He couldn't hear anything except his own heartbeat. Too fast. Too loud. The room was spinning. His chest hurt.
I can't breathe. I can't—
Then he shoved. Hard. Atlas stumbled back. Hit the couch.
"It's over!" Noah screamed. His voice went high. Went strange. Not his voice. "It's fucking over! I don't want you!"
He was crying now. His whole body shaking. His breath came in gasps. Hiccups. Wet. Ugly. His face was wet. He didn't wipe it.
Atlas was crying too. His face was red. Wet. His mouth was open. Gasping. He reached again. "Please. Please don't—"
"Don't fucking touch me!" Noah screamed. His voice went rough. Went too high. "Don't you ever—don't ever touch me again!"
He was hyperventilating. Couldn't get enough air. His vision blurred. Darkened. He forgot to breathe. Then gasped. Too loud.
"I can't—" Atlas's voice went high. Desperate. "I can't lose you. Please. Please just—"
"You already did."
Atlas stopped. Stared at him.
Noah's face was wet. Eyes swollen. Red. His mouth open, gasping for air. And his eyes—
Nothing.
Just nothing.
Atlas saw it. The moment Noah left. Not physically. But everything else.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered. His voice barely there. Going rough. "I'm so—I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
He kept saying it. Over and over. The words running together. Meaningless.
"It's over," Noah said. His voice was flat. Dead. Wrong. "Get out of my apartment."
"Noah, please—"
"Get out."
"I can't—if you'd just—"
"Get out. Get out. Get out." Noah's voice went high. Went rough. "Get the fuck out."
"Please don't do this." Atlas's voice went high. Desperate. "Please. We can—we can figure this out. We can—"
"There's nothing to figure out."
Atlas stared at him. His whole body was shaking. His legs almost gave out. He caught himself on the couch. "So that's it? You're just—you're just done?"
"Yes."
"After everything—"
"Especially after everything."
Atlas's face went white. He stood there. Shaking. Then walked to the door. His steps were uneven. Wrong. He opened it.
Looked back.
Noah had turned away. His back to him. His shoulders shaking.
"I love you," Atlas said. His voice barely there.
Noah said nothing.
Atlas stepped out. The door closed behind him.
Noah stood there. Heard the lock click.
His legs gave out.
He dropped. Hit the floor. His knees cracked against the wood. He didn't feel it.
This isn't real. This isn't real. This isn't real.
He crawled. To the bathroom. His hands slipped. His vision was too blurred. He couldn't see. The floor was cold under his palms.
He got to the tile. Cold against his palms. His knees. He pulled himself up. Leaned against the sink. Looked at himself in the mirror.
His face was red. Wet. Eyes swollen. He looked away.
Then he started crying. Not crying. Something else. A sound came out of him he didn't know he could make. High. Rough. Wrong.
His legs gave out again. He slid down. Sat on the floor. His back against the cabinet. Cold tile under him.
He pulled his knees to his chest. Wrapped his arms around them. Pressed his face against his knees.
He couldn't breathe. Tried. Couldn't. Gasped. Hiccuped. His whole body shook.
He pulled himself up. Got in the shower. Didn't take his clothes off. Turned the water on. Cold. Stood under it.
His legs gave out. He slid down the wall. Sat on the floor. Water running over him. Soaking his clothes. His hair. His face.
He pressed his face against his knees. The water turned his crying into something quieter. But it didn't stop.
He sat there. Water running. Body shaking. Making sounds he didn't recognize.
When did it end? When did we end?
He didn't know.
---
Atlas got to his car. His hand shook so hard he dropped his keys. Picked them up. Dropped them again. Finally got the door open. Got in. Closed it.
Sat there.
The streetlight above him flickered. On. Off. On. Off.
His hands went to the steering wheel. Pressed against it. His arms started shaking. His whole body.
He put his forehead against the wheel. The horn didn't go off. He was pressing too high.
His breath came out in short gasps. Too fast. He couldn't slow it down. His chest hurt. Like something was sitting on it.
What did I do? What the fuck did I do?
Then he started crying. His chest heaved. His shoulders shook. His whole body.
Water ran down his face. His chin. Dripped onto his lap. He didn't wipe it.
He tried to breathe. Couldn't. Gasped. His throat went tight. He choked. Coughed. Started crying again.
His hands slipped off the wheel. Went numb. Cold. He couldn't feel them anymore.
"I'm sorry," he said. His voice was rough. Wet. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
He kept saying it. Over and over. To no one. To the empty car. To Noah who couldn't hear him.
His whole body shook. His teeth chattered. Not from cold. From something breaking inside him.
He's gone. He's really gone.
A car drove past. Honked. He didn't move.
He just sat there.
Crying.
Gasping for air.
Saying "I'm sorry" over and over until the words didn't sound like words anymore.
Until his voice went rough. Gave out.
Until he couldn't make sounds anymore.
Just his body. Shaking. His face wet. His hands numb.
He sat there in silence. The streetlight flickering. On. Off. On. Off.
He didn't move.
Just sat there.
The pieces of himself scattered on the floor of his car.
Nothing left to hold together.