THE MORNING
Morning found them tangled together, sheets kicked halfway down the bed.
Noah blinked awake first. Light spilled across Atlas's shoulder—gold and soft.
Atlas's arm was around his waist. Heavy. Warm. Real.
Noah didn't move. Just lay there watching Atlas breathe.
Atlas's face was different in sleep. Softer. The hard edges smoothed out. His mouth slightly parted. Hair sticking up where Noah's fingers had been.
He was here. In Atlas Sterlins' bed. Morning light. The city humming somewhere far below.
This was real.
Atlas stirred. His arm tightened around Noah's waist.
"Stop staring," he mumbled. Eyes still closed.
"I'm not."
"Liar." Atlas's eyes opened. Dark. Warm. Found Noah's. "Morning."
"Morning."
They looked at each other. Just—looked.
"You snore," Noah said.
Atlas's mouth curved. "No I don't."
"You do."
"Prove it."
"Can't. You were asleep."
"Convenient." Atlas's hand slid up into Noah's hair. His fingers combed through slowly. "What time is it?"
"Early."
"How early?"
"Does it matter?"
"No." Atlas pulled him closer. Their noses almost touching. "Not even a little."
Noah's breath caught.
Atlas leaned in. Kissed him.
Not soft. Not careful.
Deep. Hungry. Like he'd been waiting all night to do this.
Atlas's hand fisted in Noah's hair. His other hand slid down Noah's back. Pulled him flush against him.
Noah gasped. Atlas took advantage. His tongue swept past Noah's lips. Tasted him. Claimed him.
Noah's hands found Atlas's chest. His shoulders. His neck. Couldn't get close enough.
Atlas rolled. Pinned Noah beneath him. Settled between his legs.
Noah's head fell back against the pillow. Atlas's mouth moved to his jaw. His neck. Found that spot just below his ear.
"Atlas—"
"Mm?" Atlas's teeth scraped skin. Gentle. Then his tongue soothed it.
Noah couldn't think. His hands gripped Atlas's shoulders.
Atlas pulled back. Looked down at him. His pupils blown wide. His chest rising and falling fast.
"We should—" He stopped. Swallowed hard. "We should get up."
"Okay."
Neither of them moved.
Atlas leaned down. Kissed him again. Softer this time. Slower.
When he pulled back, he smiled. "Hungry?"
Noah nodded. Didn't trust his voice.
"Come on." Atlas climbed off him. Stood. Held out his hand.
Noah took it.
THE KITCHEN
Atlas moved around the kitchen in sweatpants and nothing else. Hair still messed up. He hadn't shaved. The morning stubble made him look younger. Dangerous.
Noah sat at the counter in Atlas's shirt from last night. Too big. Swallowing him whole.
Atlas slid a mug across. Black coffee.
Noah wrapped his hands around it. Took a sip.
Atlas watched. "That's it?"
"What?"
"That's breakfast?"
"It's coffee."
Atlas cracked eggs into a bowl. "You need actual food."
"I'm fine."
"You're running on fumes and stubbornness." Atlas whisked the eggs. Poured them into a hot pan. "When's the last time you ate breakfast?"
Noah thought about it. "Define breakfast."
"Food. In the morning. Not from a vending machine."
"Then... I don't know. College?"
Atlas stopped. Looked at him. "You're joking."
"I'm busy."
"You're malnourished." Atlas flipped the omelet. Perfect. "No wonder you're all—" He gestured vaguely at Noah.
"All what?"
"Skinny."
"I'm not skinny."
"You are." Atlas plated the omelet. Set it in front of Noah. "Ribs and collarbones. Eat."
"I'm not—"
"Noah." Atlas leaned across the counter. Close. "Eat the damn omelet."
Noah picked up his fork.
Atlas smiled. Satisfied. Made his own plate.
They ate in silence. Comfortable. Easy.
"This is good," Noah said finally.
"I know."
"Modest."
"Honest." Atlas took a bite. "You staying over again tonight?"
Noah's fork paused halfway to his mouth. "I—what?"
"Tonight. You staying?"
"I have work tomorrow."
"So do I." Atlas shrugged. "I'll drive you."
"Atlas—"
"Unless you don't want to." Atlas's gaze met his. Steady. "Then that's fine too."
Noah put his fork down. "I want to."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Atlas's smile was slow. Warm. "Good."
They finished eating. Atlas took the plates. Rinsed them. Set them in the sink.
Noah watched. Memorized this. Atlas in his kitchen. Morning light. Bare chest. Easy smile.
Normal. Domestic.
Like this was something they did every day.
"What?" Atlas asked. He'd caught Noah staring.
"Nothing."
"Liar." Atlas walked over. Stood between Noah's knees. His hands settled on Noah's hips. "What are you thinking?"
"That this is nice."
"Nice?" Atlas's eyebrows rose. "Damning with faint praise."
"You know what I mean."
"Do I?"
Noah's hands found Atlas's waist. His thumbs brushed bare skin. "This. You. Here. It's—" He stopped. "I don't know. Good."
"Good." Atlas repeated. His smile turned sharp. "I can work with good."
He leaned in. Kissed Noah until Noah forgot what they were talking about.
THE DRESSING ROOM
They got dressed together.
Noah pulled on the clothes Atlas had bought. Charcoal slacks. White shirt. The fabric felt expensive. Soft.
Atlas stood at the mirror. Navy suit. Halfway through buttoning his shirt when he stopped. Frowned.
"Problem?" Noah asked.
"Missed one."
Noah crossed to him. "Let me."
His fingers found the button. Slipped it through the hole. Atlas watched him in the mirror.
Noah moved to the next. Then the next. His knuckles brushed Atlas's chest.
Atlas's hand caught his wrist. Held it against his heart.
Noah finished the last button. His hands smoothed down Atlas's shirt. "There."
Atlas turned. Faced him. Close.
"You look different in these clothes," Atlas said.
"Different how?"
"Like you." Atlas's thumb traced Noah's jaw. "Not who you're supposed to be. Just—you."
Atlas reached for his tie. Started knotting it.
"Wait." Noah's hands covered his. "I'll do it."
Atlas dropped his hands. Waited.
Noah's fingers worked the silk. Over. Around. Through. The way his father taught him. The way he'd done a thousand times.
But this was different.
This was Atlas.
"Done." Noah tightened the knot. Adjusted it.
Atlas caught his hands. Pulled him close. Kissed him.
"We're going to be late," Noah managed.
"I know."
"Atlas—"
"Five more minutes." Another kiss. "Please."
Noah laughed against his mouth. "You don't do please."
"I'm making an exception."
They stood there. Foreheads pressed together. Just breathing.
"Thank you," Noah said quietly.
"For what?"
"This. The clothes. Last night. This morning." Noah's hands gripped Atlas's jacket. "All of it."
Atlas kissed his forehead. "Come on. Before we're actually late."
THE CAR
The city was awake. Traffic. Horns. People everywhere.
Noah watched it slide past. Atlas drove with one hand on the wheel. The other rested on the gear shift. Close to Noah's thigh.
His phone buzzed.
Marcus: bro where are you
Noah typed back: on my way
Marcus: you disappeared last night. everything ok?
Noah: yeah. just busy
Marcus: busy with WHO
Noah put his phone away.
"Marcus?" Atlas asked.
"Yeah. Being nosy."
"What'd you tell him?"
"Nothing."
"Smart." Atlas's pinky hooked around Noah's. Brief. Then back to the gear shift. "Less questions."
They stopped at a light. Atlas looked over.
"Thursday," he said. "Your parents."
Noah's stomach dropped. "Yeah."
"You nervous?"
"A little."
"Why?"
"I don't know. My mom's weird about family dinners. And my dad—" Noah stopped. "He's always watching. Like he's waiting for something."
"You want me to come?"
Noah blinked. "What?"
"To dinner. I could—"
"No." The word came out too fast. Too sharp. "I mean—it's just. Family stuff. You know."
Atlas's jaw shifted. Just barely. "Right. Family stuff."
"Atlas—"
"It's fine." He pulled forward. The light had turned green. "Just—if you need anything. Call me."
"I will."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
They pulled up to Wells Tower. Atlas parked.
Noah reached for the door handle. Atlas caught his wrist.
"Hey."
Noah looked at him.
"Tonight," Atlas said. "You're coming back here. Right?"
"If you want me to."
"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want you to." Atlas's thumb brushed Noah's wrist. "Text me when you're done."
"Okay."
Atlas leaned in. Kissed him. Quick. Sweet.
Noah got out. Closed the door.
Turned back.
Atlas was watching him through the windshield. His face unreadable.
Noah lifted his hand. A small wave.
Atlas nodded. Pulled away.
Noah watched until the car disappeared.
Then walked inside.
WELLS TOWER - 9:20 AM
His desk was chaos. Files everywhere. Emails stacked. His phone already buzzing.
Noah sat down. Logged in.
Tried to focus.
Couldn't.
All he could think about was Atlas. This morning. The kiss. The way Atlas had looked at him.
Tonight. You're coming back here. Right?
His phone buzzed.
Atlas: miss you
Noah smiled. Typed: you saw me ten minutes ago
Atlas: ten minutes too long
Noah: dramatic
Atlas: accurate
Noah: focus on work
Atlas: can't. thinking about this morning
His face went warm. He glanced at his door. Empty hallway.
Noah: stop
Atlas: never
Noah: i have meetings
Atlas: so do i. still thinking about you
Noah: Atlas
Atlas: fine. but tonight you're mine
Noah stared at the message.
Noah: deal
He put his phone down. Tried to work.
Failed completely.
His phone buzzed again.
Marcus: lunch?
Noah: can't. swamped
Marcus: dinner?
Noah: busy
Marcus: ...with?
Noah didn't answer.
Marcus: SPILL
Noah turned his phone face down.
Smiled at his desk like an idiot.
Outside his window, the city hummed.
Wednesday morning.
Normal day.
Except nothing felt normal anymore.
Everything had changed.
And Noah couldn't wait for tonight.
WELLS TOWER - 5:02 PM
Noah was three lines into the Henderson report when his door opened.
No knock.
His father walked in. Charcoal suit. Silk tie. Face like carved marble.
"Dad." Noah stood. His hand knocked a pen off the desk. It clattered to the floor. "I didn't—do we have a meeting?"
"No." His father closed the door. Sat in the chair across from Noah's desk. Crossed one leg over the other. "We're leaving."
Noah blinked. "What?"
"Home. Now. Pack your things."
"I—" Noah glanced at his computer. The open files. His calendar full of red blocks. "Dad, I have work tomorrow. The Henderson presentation is Friday and I need to—"
"You'll work from home." Not a question. "Your mother wants you there. Lydia too."
"I told Mom I'd come Thursday. Tomorrow. We talked about—"
"Plans changed." His father's gaze stayed level. Unmovable.
Noah's mouth went dry. "Is something wrong?"
"Should there be?"
Silence stretched between them.
Noah's hands gripped the edge of his desk. "No. Of course not."
"Good." His father stood. Adjusted his cufflinks. "I'll wait in the car. Five minutes."
He walked out.
The door clicked shut.
Noah stared at it.
His phone was in his hand before he thought about it.
Noah: something came up. have to go to my parents tonight instead of tomorrow
He hit send. Waited.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Atlas: why
Noah's fingers shook on the screen.
Noah: my dad showed up at the office. says i need to come now
Atlas: now?
Noah: yeah. he wants me to stay a couple days. work from home
The dots stopped. Started. Stopped.
Atlas: ok
Noah stared at the word.
That was it. Just—ok.
"Noah." His father's voice echoed from down the hall.
Noah grabbed his coat. His laptop. Shoved them in his bag.
His hands wouldn't stop shaking.
THE CAR
The backseat of the Town Car smelled like leather and his father's cologne. Expensive. Cold.
His father's driver pulled into traffic. Smooth. Silent.
Noah sat on one side. His father on the other. A foot of space between them that felt like miles.
His father scrolled through his tablet. Blue light washing his face. Emails. Reports. His thumb swiped. Paused. Swiped again.
Noah looked out the window. Watched buildings turn to trees. Concrete to grass. The city peeling away.
His phone sat heavy in his pocket.
Silent.
Atlas hadn't texted again.
They crossed the Merritt Parkway. Greenwich signs appeared. Exit 3. Exit 4.
His father's thumb stopped moving.
"You're quiet," he said. Didn't look up from the tablet.
"Long day."
"Mm." His father swiped. Then his eyes lifted. Traveled down Noah's suit. Back up. Stopped. "New suit."
Noah's pulse spiked. "What?"
"Your suit." His father's gaze lingered on the fabric. The cut. The way it fit. "I haven't seen that one before."
Noah's mouth went dry. "Yeah. Thought I'd—update my wardrobe."
"Brunello Cucinelli."
Noah froze.
His father's face didn't change. "I know quality when I see it." His eyes met Noah's. Sharp. Assessing. "Expensive taste."
"Just wanted something different."
"Different." His father tested the word. Let it hang between them. His gaze dropped to Noah's collar. His cuffs. The precise tailoring. "Interesting choice."
He went back to his tablet.
Noah's face burned. His hands clenched in his lap.
The suit was Atlas's choice. Atlas's taste. Understated elegance. Nothing like the Brooks Brothers his father had always bought him.
Nothing like the son his father expected.
His phone stayed dark.
The car turned onto Backcountry Road.
Almost home.
Noah had never felt further from anywhere.
THE HOUSE
White columns. Marble steps. Crystal glowing through windows.
The house looked like a museum. Pristine. Untouched. Cold.
"Noah!" Lydia flew down the stairs before he'd cleared the door. She crashed into him. "You're here!"
"Hey, Lyds." He hugged her back. She smelled like expensive shampoo and vanilla. "Miss me?"
"So much." She pulled back. Grinned. "Mom's been cooking all day. Your favorite."
His mother appeared. Silk blouse. Pearls. Perfect makeup. She kissed his cheek. "Darling. We're so glad you're home."
"Thanks, Mom."
"Go freshen up. Dinner's at seven."
Noah climbed the stairs. His bag heavy.
His childhood bedroom looked exactly the same. Blue walls. Wooden desk. Trophies from sports he'd stopped playing years ago.
A museum of who he used to be.
He dropped his bag. Pulled out his phone.
Nothing.
He opened his messages. Typed: i'm here. everything's fine
Stared at it. Deleted it.
Typed: miss you
Deleted that too.
His fingers hovered.
What could he say? How could he explain this?
He put the phone on silent. Set it on the nightstand. Face down.
Changed clothes. Left his phone where it was.
Went downstairs.
DINNER
The dining room table could seat twelve. Tonight it seated four.
His father at the head. His mother to the right. Lydia across from Noah.
Servers brought course after course. French cuisine. Wine. Everything perfect.
His mother asked about work. His father commented on the Henderson deal. Lydia talked about college applications.
Normal conversation.
But Noah couldn't swallow properly. Every bite sat wrong in his mouth. Every word he spoke felt scripted.
His father's eyes kept finding him. Lingering. Measuring.
His mother's smile was too bright. Her laugh too practiced.
Lydia was the only one who seemed real.
"How's Emma?" his mother asked. Casual. Like it didn't matter.
Noah's fork stopped halfway to his mouth. "We broke up last week."
"Oh." His mother's smile flickered. "I didn't realize it was final."
"It is."
"Well." She sipped her wine. "I'm sure you'll find someone else soon. Someone appropriate."
The word sat between them like a stone.
"Sarah's daughter just got engaged," his mother continued. "To a lawyer. Very successful. I could—"
"Mom." Noah set his fork down. "I'm not interested."
"I'm just saying—"
"I know what you're saying."
Silence dropped.
His father cleared his throat. "Your mother's trying to help."
"I don't need help."
Noah stood. "I need some air."
He walked out before anyone could stop him.
THE TERRACE
Cold air hit his face. He braced his hands on the stone railing. Breathed.
The city glittered in the distance. Small. Far away. A different world.
Atlas was there. Somewhere in those lights.
Not here.
Noah pulled out his phone. 8:27 PM.
Six missed calls. All Atlas.
Three texts.
Atlas: you ok?
Atlas: noah?
Atlas: call me when you can
The last one twenty minutes ago.
Noah's hands shook.
He hit call.
One ring.
"Where the fuck were you?"
Noah flinched. Atlas's voice was ice. Sharp edges. Nothing like this morning.
"I'm sorry. I left my phone upstairs. We were at dinner and I—"
"You didn't think to check it? For three hours?"
"Atlas, I'm sorry. I didn't—"
"I called six times, Noah. Six."
"I know. I'm sorry. I forgot—"
"You forgot." Atlas laughed. No humor in it. "Right."
"Atlas—"
"Why are you there? You said Thursday."
"My dad showed up at the office. Said I had to come tonight. That I need to work from home tomorrow. I couldn't say no."
Silence.
Then: "Fine."
"Atlas, please—"
"How long are you staying?"
"Two days. My family wants—"
"Two days." His voice went flat. Empty. "You're staying there for two days."
"I have to. My mom and Lydia—"
"I get it." Sharp. Final. "Family's important."
"Atlas, that's not—"
"I have to go."
"Atlas—"
The line went dead.
Noah stared at his phone.
This morning Atlas had kissed him goodbye. Smiled at him. Told him to text.
This morning Atlas had made him breakfast. Fixed his tie. Driven him to work.
Now—
Nothing.
The terrace door opened.
"Noah?" Lydia stepped out. Wrapped in a cardigan. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Fine."
She walked over. Leaned against the railing beside him. "Liar."
Noah said nothing.
"So," Lydia said after a moment. "Emma."
Noah's jaw tightened. "What about her?"
"Why'd you guys really break up?"
"Just didn't work."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the one you're getting."
Lydia studied him. "Is there someone else?"
Noah's heart stopped. "No."
"You're different. Since you came home. Happier. Or—you were. Until tonight." She tilted her head. "So. Someone else?"
"Lydia—"
"It's okay if there is." Her voice went soft. "I won't tell."
Noah looked at his hands. White-knuckled on the railing.
"It's complicated," he said finally.
"Life usually is." She leaned her head on his shoulder. "I love you. You know that?"
"Yeah."
"So whatever's going on—whoever makes you happy—do that. Be that." She squeezed his hand. "Stop trying to be what everyone expects. Just be you."
His phone: silent.
"Thanks, Lyds."
They stood there. Stars and cold air and the city glittering far away.
Noah checked his phone every thirty seconds.
Nothing.
BEDROOM - 11:43 PM
Noah lay in bed. Ceiling fan turning. Shadows moving across the walls.
His phone: 2% battery. Charger downstairs.
He opened his messages.
Stared at the screen.
His fingers moved. Stopped. Moved again.
Noah: are you
Delete.
Noah: miss you
Delete.
Noah: sorry
Delete.
What could he say? What would fix this?
This morning Atlas had been warm. Real. His.
Tonight—
A stranger.
Maybe that's all it was. Maybe Noah had read too much into it. A few days. Some kissing. Didn't mean—
It didn't mean anything.
He typed.
Noah: goodnight
Sent.
The message sat there. Delivered. Read.
No response.
Noah put the phone face down. Closed his eyes.
Tried to sleep.
Couldn't.
12:14 AM.
His phone buzzed.
He grabbed it.
Atlas: goodnight
Two words. Nothing else.
No "sleep well." No "miss you." No "call me tomorrow."
Just—
Goodnight.
Noah stared at the message until his vision blurred.
Then he put the phone down.
Turned off the light.
Lay there in the dark.
And wondered if everything he'd felt the last three days had been in his head.
If Atlas had just been—
Passing time.
Having fun.
Nothing more.
Outside the window, wind rattled the glass.
Noah didn't sleep for a long time.
And when he finally did, he dreamed of locked doors and empty beds and hands that let go too easily.