Thursday Morning
Noah woke wrapped in Atlas.
Not beside him. Not touching him.
Wrapped in him. Atlas's arms locked around his waist, holding him against his chest like Noah might disappear if he let go. His breath warm and steady against Noah's neck. His heartbeat a low thrum Noah could feel through his own ribs.
For a moment, Noah just breathed. Let himself exist in this—the weight of Atlas's body, the cedar-and-sleep smell of his skin, the way the morning light painted everything gold through the windows.
Then last night crashed back.
Evelyn's words. Sharp as broken glass. Be prepared to lose everything.
His father's face in his mind. That look he got when someone disappointed him. Cold. Final.
The way Atlas had kissed him after. Desperate. Like he was trying to prove something neither of them could say out loud.
Noah's chest constricted. His throat went tight.
One day they wouldn't wake up like this.
One day his father would find out. Or Atlas's father. Or everyone. And there would be choices. Ultimatums. The kind that left scars.
One day this would end.
The thought lodged in his chest like a stone. Heavy. Immovable.
He couldn't breathe around it.
His arms tightened around Atlas. Held on harder. Like if he just didn't let go, maybe morning wouldn't come. Maybe they could stay here, in this bed, in this moment, where nothing else existed.
But his eyes burned. His heart felt too big for his chest. Like it might crack open and spill everything he was trying so hard not to feel.
Atlas shifted. His arms tightened reflexively.
Then his lips pressed to Noah's temple. Soft. Deliberate.
"Good morning."
Noah's voice came out rough. "Morning, baby."
Atlas pulled back just enough to look at him. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, dark and warm in the early light. Then they sharpened. Focused.
"Hey." His hand came up. Cupped Noah's face. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Noah."
"I'm fine."
Atlas studied him. His thumb brushed Noah's cheekbone. "You're thinking about last night."
Not a question.
Noah looked away.
"Don't." Atlas's voice was firm. "Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Wake up and immediately think about everything that could go wrong." Atlas tilted Noah's face back to him. Made him look. "Just—be here. Right now. With me."
Noah's hands came up. Framed Atlas's face. His thumbs traced those sharp cheekbones, the line of his jaw. "I am here."
"Are you?" Atlas's eyes searched his. "Because it feels like you're already somewhere else."
Noah leaned in. Kissed him.
Soft at first. Then deeper. Trying to prove something. Trying to say what he couldn't find words for.
Atlas's hands slid down Noah's back. One settled at his waist. The other curved around his shoulder blade. Pulled him closer.
When they broke apart, Noah rested his forehead against Atlas's.
"I'm here," he whispered. "I promise."
Atlas's arms locked around him. Held him tight.
They stayed like that. Breathing the same air. Noah could feel Atlas's pulse against his palm. Steady. Strong.
Eventually Atlas pulled back. "Shower. Then breakfast."
Noah's mouth curved slightly. "Together?"
Atlas's eyes darkened. "Was hoping you'd ask."
"Really?" Noah's dimples showed. "Because you've been very patient with me."
"Patient isn't the word I'd use." Atlas kissed him once, hard. "But yes. Together."
The shower was all steam and heat and hands that knew exactly where to touch.
Atlas backed Noah against the tile. Water cascading over both of them. His mouth on Noah's neck, that spot behind his ear that made Noah's knees weak.
"Atlas—" Noah's hands found his shoulders. Gripped.
"Shh." Atlas's teeth scraped his collarbone. "Let me."
Noah gave up trying to think. Let Atlas map every sound he made. Every place that made him gasp. Every way to make him fall apart against the wall.
By the time they stumbled out, both flushed and breathing hard, Noah couldn't quite remember why he'd woken up sad.
THE DRESSING ROOM
Noah stood at the mirror, adjusting his tie—navy silk today. Atlas appeared behind him, already dressed. Charcoal suit. White shirt. Looking like he'd stepped out of a magazine.
"What's your day look like?" Atlas asked.
Noah met his eyes in the mirror. "Morning meeting at the office. Then I'm getting fitted for a tux."
Atlas's eyebrows rose. "Tux?"
"Yale Club Annual Alumni Gala." Noah fumbled with his tie knot. "First time I'm going."
"You should be excited." Atlas's hands covered his. Took over the tie. "First gala's a big deal."
"I guess." Noah watched Atlas's hands work. Efficient. Practiced. "Are you thinking of going?"
"We could go together."
Noah's hands stilled. He looked up. Met Atlas's eyes in the mirror. "Together?"
"Why do you sound surprised?"
"Because—" Noah turned to face him. "At Yale you barely looked at me. Most of the time you acted like I didn't exist. Going together would make people think—"
"I didn't act like you didn't exist."
"You were cold."
"I was trying to stay away from you." Atlas's voice was quiet. Honest.
Noah's mouth curved. "Why were you trying to stay away?"
Atlas didn't answer. Just pulled Noah in. Kissed him hard enough to make his point.
When he pulled back, Noah was breathing hard.
"That's why," Atlas said against his mouth.
Noah laughed. Couldn't help it. "Okay."
"My schedule's clear after three." Atlas's hands settled on Noah's hips. "Let's get the tuxes together."
Noah looked up at him. Those green eyes bright. "Okay."
Atlas pulled him into a hug. "You feeling better?"
Noah pressed his face into Atlas's chest. Breathed him in. "Yeah. I'm better."
"Evelyn's just trying to protect us. That's why she said those things."
Noah was quiet for a moment. Then: "Let's have breakfast."
Atlas pulled back. Looked down at him. "You should take a cooking class."
"Why?" Noah's dimples showed.
"Because I'm always the one cooking." Atlas's mouth curved. "It's getting unfair."
"I'll think about it." Noah grinned. Kissed him once more. "Come on. I'm starving."
WELLIN TOWER
Noah's morning was routine. Meetings. Reports. Emails he answered on autopilot while his mind wandered to this afternoon.
His phone buzzed.
Alex: "drinks tomorrow? 🍸 @julian"
Noah: "can't 😫 gala prep"
Alex: the yale thing? since when do you go to those
Noah: first time
Alex: who's your date
Noah hesitated.
Noah: going with someone from work
Marcus: 👀 details
Noah: later
He put his phone down. Stared at his computer screen without seeing it.
Another buzz.
Atlas: picking you up at 3
Noah: i can meet you. where?
Atlas: Alan David Custom
Noah: ok see you there
Noah smiled at his phone. Caught himself. Looked around to make sure no one saw.
ALAN DAVID CUSTOM
The shop smelled like expensive fabric and old money. Wood paneling. Soft lighting. A place where suits started at five thousand dollars and went up from there.
Atlas was already there. Talking to a tailor Noah recognized— Paolo. They'd been fitting Atlas for years.
"Noah." Atlas's face did something when he saw him. Softened. Warmed.
Paolo noticed. His eyebrows rose slightly. But he was professional. "Mr. Wellin. Good to see you."
"You too."
"Mr. Sterlins says you both need tuxedos for Saturday?" Paolo pulled out a measuring tape. "Let's start with you, Mr. Wellin."
What followed was fabric samples and measurements and Atlas's eyes on him the entire time.
Noah tried on the first option. Classic black. Single button. Nothing special.
"No." Atlas didn't even let him look in the mirror. "Next."
The second was better. Black with subtle texture. Peak lapels.
Noah turned to the mirror. The fit was perfect—hugging his shoulders, tapering at his waist.
"Better." Atlas came up behind him. Their eyes met in the mirror. "But we can do better."
The third made Noah stop.
Pure black. Custom weave that caught light differently depending on the angle. Shawl collar. Fitted but not tight. Like it had been made specifically for his body.
He stared at himself in the mirror. He looked—
Different. Older. More sure of himself.
Atlas appeared beside him. Trying on his own tux—same fabric, same cut. They looked like they belonged together.
Their eyes met.
Atlas smiled. Small. Private.
Noah smiled back. His dimples showing.
"We'll take both," Atlas told Marcus. "Alterations done by tomorrow. Delivered to 432 Park."
"Of course, Mr. Sterlins."
Outside, the afternoon sun was too bright. Noah squinted against it.
"What do you want to do?" Atlas asked.
"I don't know."
"Let's play golf."
Noah laughed. "I'm terrible at golf."
"I'll teach you." Atlas's hand found the small of his back. Guided him toward the parking garage. "Come on."
They reached their cars. Ferrari and Aston Martin parked side by side.
"Follow me," Atlas said.
Noah slid into his Ferrari. Started the engine. The rumble filled the garage.
His phone rang immediately. Atlas's name on the screen.
"Hi."
"Hi." Atlas's voice was warm. Intimate. "Ready?"
"Where are we going?"
"You'll see."
They drove out of the city. Noah kept Atlas's Aston Martin in his rearview. Talked to him the whole way like they were in the same car.
"We should race someday," Noah said. "On a real track."
"You'd lose."
"Probably. But I still want to try."
"You looking for an adrenaline rush?" Atlas's voice had dropped. Teasing.
"Maybe."
Atlas's laughter came through the speaker, low and warm. "What—am I not giving you enough adrenaline already?"
Noah laughed. "You always find a way to turn it into that."
"Because you make it too easy."
"Focus on driving, Atlas."
"I'll set something up. This weekend."
"Really?"
"Really."
WINGED FOOT GOLF CLUB
The club was exactly what Noah expected. Manicured greens stretching forever. Men in pastel polos. The smell of cut grass and old money.
Atlas knew everyone. Stopped to shake hands. Introduced Noah each time—"Noah Wellin. Thomas Wellin's son. We're working together on the Henderson project."
Professional. Appropriate.
But under the table at the clubhouse restaurant, Atlas's foot found Noah's. Pressed against his ankle. Stayed there.
Noah tried not to smile. Failed.
"Stop," he said quietly.
"Stop what?" Atlas's expression was innocent. His foot slid higher.
"You know what." Noah's face went hot. "Behave."
"Make me."
Noah kicked him lightly. Atlas grinned.
They ate. Talked about nothing important. Atlas's foot stayed pressed against Noah's the entire time.
Eventually Atlas checked his watch. "I should head out. Meeting some guys for drinks."
"Okay."
They walked back to the parking lot. Late afternoon sun turning everything gold.
Noah's phone rang. Lydia.
"Hey."
"Noah! Where are you?" Her voice was bright. Excited. "I'm on the Upper East Side. Want to meet up?"
"Why are you in the city?"
"Staying with a friend for a few days. But she's busy right now and I'm bored." Lydia paused. "I miss you. Come hang out."
Noah smiled despite himself. "You just don't want to be alone."
"Exactly! Ralph's Coffee in thirty minutes?"
"I'll be there."
He hung up. Called Atlas—still in the car ahead of him.
"Change of plans. Lydia wants to meet."
"Want me to come?" Atlas asked.
"After what happened last time?" Noah laughed. "She saw you shirtless on FaceTime. Maybe give it a few days."
Atlas was quiet for a moment. Then: "Fair enough."
"I'll see you tonight."
"Yeah. Tonight."
RALPH'S COFFEE
Lydia spotted him immediately. Jumped up. Threw her arms around him.
"You look so good." She pulled back. Studied him. "Like—really good. Hot, even."
Noah laughed. "You're always looking for entertainment."
"Always." She sat down. Grinned. "So. Whose place are you staying at? I posted on Instagram yesterday. Didn't you see? I'm at Vivienne's."
"I don't follow your Instagram posts."
"But you follow Atlas." Her grin widened. "I noticed."
Noah's face went hot. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Sure you don't." Lydia leaned forward. "So is Atlas the reason for this whole—" She gestured at him. "—glow-up situation?"
"We just work together."
" Oh, is that the new trend now? Work colleagues having shirtless FaceTime meetings at night? That's totally normal."
"You're being ridiculous."
"Noah." Lydia's voice went softer. "I'm only few years younger than you. Why won't you talk to me about this?"
"There's nothing to talk about."
"Fine. Then I won't tell you about my boyfriends anymore."
"There's nothing to tell."
But Lydia wouldn't let it go. Every topic circled back to Atlas. Eventually Noah gave up.
"Did you only invite me out to talk about Atlas?"
"He's the most important thing in your life right now." Lydia's eyes were bright. Knowing. "Come on. Give me something. Who confessed first?"
Noah's mouth curved despite himself. "Why do you want to know?"
"It was Atlas, wasn't it?" Lydia grinned. "You wouldn't have the nerve."
"Drop it."
"Is he normally cold and aggressive? Wait—" She stopped herself. "Stupid question. If he was, you wouldn't be dating him."
"You're asking and answering your own questions."
"When are you meeting your friend?" Noah asked. "I should let you get back."
"She's home. She's not busy."
Noah stared at her. "Then why did you say—"
"Because I missed you." Lydia's grin was unrepentant. "And I wanted the update."
"You just want gossip for your friend group."
"They wouldn't care about this." Lydia's expression went serious. "Yours is different. It's like—hidden love, you know? Everyone around me is dating openly, cheating, breaking up. Same stories, different faces. But you two—" She stopped. "If this gets out, the consequences for you won't be good."
Noah went quiet.
"But if you love him," Lydia continued, "then go all in. Don't hold back."
"Can we drop this?"
"Are you living with him?"
Noah didn't answer.
Lydia's eyes widened. "Oh my god. You are."
"It's a bit fast, don't you think?"
"We're not living together," Noah said quickly. "I've just been staying at his place for a few days."
"You never rush into things," Lydia said, studying him. "Is this some kind of… high school love story comeback?"
"Of course not."
"You're terrible at lying."
"Let's go," Noah said, standing.
She laughed softly but followed him out.
He opened the cab door for her. "Call me if anything happens, okay? Anytime."
"I will. Love you."
"Love you too."
---
In the car, city lights blurred past the window.
His mind wouldn't stop replaying the last few days—Evelyn yesterday, Lydia today.
One by one, people were starting to see them.
The thought made his chest tighten. Fear first. Then something softer.
Maybe it wasn't all bad. Maybe, deep down, he was a little glad.
ATLAS'S PENTHOUSE
Noah let himself in. The apartment was warm. Soft lighting. Music playing low—something instrumental he didn't recognize.
Atlas sat on the couch. Black joggers. White t-shirt. Reading something on his tablet.
He looked up when Noah entered. Set the tablet aside.
"Finally."
Noah crossed to him. Leaned down. Kissed him. "Lydia talks a lot."
"You survived."
"Barely." Noah smiled. "Shower, then I'm all yours."
"Promise?" Atlas teased.
"Promise."
———
A few minutes later, Noah came back—hair damp, wearing orange sweats and a white T-shirt.
Atlas looked up from the couch.
"Come here."
Noah did.
Atlas pulled him close, inhaling the scent of his skin. "You smell way too good."
Noah grinned. "For you, baby."
"Careful. I might take that as an invitation."
"You always do."
Atlas chuckled, then brushed his thumb along Noah's jaw. "So— What did Lydia want?"
"To gossip." Noah settled against him. His head on Atlas's shoulder. "About us."
"How did she find out?"
"She saw you shirtless on FaceTime. Then noticed I follow you on Instagram. Put two and two together."
Atlas's mouth curved. "And?"
"And she asked a million questions." Noah closed his eyes. "Magazine-level questions."
"Like what?"
"You know. Magazine questions."
"I don't know. Tell me."
"Like who confessed first."
Atlas's chest moved with silent laughter. "Did you tell her it was you?"
"No." Noah sat up. Looked at him. "Because it wasn't. You confessed first."
Atlas pulled him back down. Kissed him hard. "Sure I did."
When he pulled back, Noah was flushed. "She said one thing though."
"What?"
"She called it hidden love."
Atlas went still. "What does that mean?"
"She said—" Noah's voice went quiet. "She said my father can't find out."
They were both silent.
Atlas's hand traced patterns on his back. Slow. Soothing.
"You okay?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah." Noah pressed closer. "Just—yesterday Evelyn. Today Lydia. Everyone keeps reminding us that this can't last."
"It can last as long as we want it to."
"You don't know my father."
"Then we'll figure it out." Atlas's arms tightened. "Together."
Noah didn't answer. Just held on.
"Which car do you want for Saturday?" Atlas asked.
"What car?"
"The race," Atlas said, a grin tugging at his mouth. "You didn't think I forgot, did you?"
"Ferrari, obviously." Noah smiled.
"Confident, huh?"
"Always."
Atlas leaned forward, eyes narrowing playfully. "You sure you'll win?"
Noah grabbed a handful of his T-shirt, tugging him closer until they were breath to breath. "What do you think?"
Atlas's smile turned slow. Dangerous. "I think I love how you challenge me—especially when you know you'll lose."
Then he kissed him. Hard.
The world narrowed to breath and skin. Noah's fingers curled in his shirt, Atlas's hand finding the back of his neck, pulling him closer.
The kiss softened. Slowed. Turned into something quieter—something that felt dangerously close to peace.
He smiled against Atlas's mouth. Neither of them said anything. They didn't have to.
---
Later, they lay in bed, the city quiet outside.
Noah's head rested on Atlas's chest, heartbeat steady beneath his ear. It felt... safe.
"I'm glad you're in my life," he said softly, barely above a whisper.
Atlas stilled. Then tightened his hold around him.
When Noah finally looked up, there was something new in Atlas's eyes—peace, maybe even happiness.
"I'm glad you're in mine too," Atlas said.
They stayed like that—two people who had spent years circling each other, finally still.
And for the first time, sleep came easy.
Sleep came easy that night.
But peace never lasts long.