Noah woke early. Atlas still sleeping.
5:07 AM.
Too fucking early.
He watched Atlas for a while—the slow rise and fall of his chest, hair falling across his shoulder, completely unguarded.
I'm wearing him out.
His body protested when he moved. Sharp pain slicing through his ribs. He bit down on his breath so he wouldn't wake Atlas.
The bathroom mirror showed bruises fading to yellow at the edges. He traced one with his finger. Pressed down. Felt the ache.
Stupid.
He dressed in the dark. Left without making a sound.
---
The city hadn't woken yet.
Streets empty. Just him and the cold turning his breath to mist.
He pulled out his phone, found his playlist, started walking.
Everything hurt. His ribs. His shoulder. But he kept moving.
Park Avenue stretched endless ahead. Shop windows glowing soft—someone's shift starting, coffee brewing inside. The sun was trying to break through, orange bleeding between buildings.
He turned into Central Park. The Pond was quiet. He dropped onto the first bench he found.
Leaned his head back. Let the light touch his face.
His playlist shuffled. Coldplay. Of course.
He hummed along:
"Nobody said it was easy..."
Voice cracking. He kept going anyway.
"No one ever said it would be this hard..."
Not singing. Confessing.
"Oh, take me back to the start."
The light made everything softer—the bruises, the exhaustion, the way his throat kept closing up.
For a few seconds, nothing moved.
And Noah could finally breathe.
---
He pulled out his earbuds.
Real sounds rushed in—birds, someone jogging in the distance, wind moving through bare branches.
His mind felt empty. Clean. Like seeing the world for the first time after being underwater too long.
His phone rang.
Atlas.
"Hey."
"Where are you?" Calm voice. But too awake. He'd noticed Noah was gone.
"The Lake. Just walking."
Pause.
Noah shifted the phone. "You wanna come?"
"Yeah. Coming now."
The line went dead.
---
Noah stayed on the bench. Waited.
Watched joggers pass. An old man with his dog. The city slowly waking up.
Then he saw Atlas.
Walking toward him in black sweats and a fitted hoodie, calm as ever, hands in his pockets.
Noah stood. Started walking to meet him halfway.
Their eyes caught.
God, he's beautiful like this.
Noah shook it off.
They stopped in front of each other.
"Morning," Noah tried to smile.
"Morning."
They started walking. Fell into step without discussing it.
"Just needed to walk," Noah said. Kept his voice light.
"When'd you leave?"
"Before the sun came up."
Atlas didn't respond. Just walked beside him.
At The Lake, they sat on a bench. Shoulders touching. Noah reached for Atlas's hand. Held it.
Then turned his head. Met his eyes.
"Am I exhausting you?"
---
Atlas went still.
Kept staring at the water. Didn't look at him.
"Where's that coming from?"
Noah shrugged. "Don't know. Sometimes I feel like I am."
The morning sounds filled the space between them—water lapping, birds calling, someone's dog barking in the distance.
Atlas's fingers tightened around his.
"You never asked me for anything," Noah continued. Voice dropping. "But I keep taking and—"
"Noah."
"What?"
"Stop talking."
Noah's mouth closed. His eyes stayed on Atlas's face.
Atlas took a long breath. Let it out slow. "I want you exactly like this. You understand?"
"But—"
"I'm not tired." Atlas finally looked at him. Actually looked. "But I'm terrified."
Noah's chest seized up. Atlas never said shit like this. Ever.
"Why?" It came out small. Young.
Atlas's eyes traced his face—every bruise, every cut, every mark. "Because I could lose you. And that—"
He stopped. Jaw working. Looked away.
The silence stretched.
---
Noah didn't say anything.
Wind moved through both their hair.
He wrapped his arms around Atlas. Held on tight.
"I'm sorry," he whispered against Atlas's shoulder. "For all of it."
Atlas's arms came around him. His chin found Noah's shoulder. They stayed like that.
"There's nothing to forgive."
"There is." Noah pulled back. Made Atlas look at him. "The crash. The stupid risks. Hurting you—"
"Leave it."
"Atlas—"
"I need time." His voice came out harder than he meant. Control slipping.
Noah stopped. That innocent look crept in slow—eyes going wide, mouth softening. "How long?"
Atlas stared at him. Then a tired smile pulled at his mouth. "There it is. That manipulative shit's back."
"Does it bother you?"
"Only when you almost die." Atlas's hand moved to Noah's thigh. Squeezed once.
"What about the rest? Me talking too much? Saying dumb stuff?"
"Someone's gotta talk in this relationship."
Noah frowned. "I could talk less—"
Atlas actually laughed. "You hear yourself right now?"
His hand stayed on Noah's leg. Warm and solid and real.
---
Noah's eyes filled up.
He didn't want them to. But they did.
He hugged Atlas again. Harder this time.
"I'm really sorry. For everything these last few days."
Atlas let him hold on for a while. Then he pushed Noah back gently. Looked right into his eyes.
"We're done with this conversation."
Noah nodded.
Atlas breathed in deep. "But listen." His voice dropped. Not a threat—a promise. "Something like that happens again, I won't be calm about it."
Noah swallowed. "How not calm?"
"Very."
Neither of them spoke.
Wind moved their hair. Light broke across the water in pieces. Bird sounds were the only thing left for a while.
Then Noah leaned his head on Atlas's shoulder.
"Okay," he whispered. "I get it."
Atlas's arm wrapped around him. Pulled him closer.
They stayed there.
The city waking around them. Neither wanting to move yet.
---
Eventually they walked out of the park together.
Noah grabbed coffee and a croissant from a cart outside the gates. Took a huge bite. Got crumbs everywhere.
"Your diet's terrible," Atlas said, but he was smiling.
"Makes me happy." Crumbs on his lip. Not caring.
Simple truth.
Atlas looked at him. Something soft in his expression.
"Yeah. I can tell."
---
The walk back to Atlas's place was quiet. Good quiet.
Keys in the lock. Door swinging open. Morning light spilling through the windows.
They stepped inside. The door clicked shut behind them.
Atlas dropped his keys on the table. Shrugged off his jacket. The city version of himself falling away piece by piece.
"I'm showering."
Noah wandered into the kitchen. Set his coffee down. "Okay."
Atlas appeared in the doorway. Leaned against the frame.
"I said I'm showering."
Noah reached for his croissant. Stopped. Looked up. "I heard you."
"Don't think you did."
Noah raised an eyebrow. All innocence. "What exactly are you saying?"
Atlas pushed off the doorframe. Walked toward him. "It's an invitation."
Noah laughed—soft and dangerous. "Not accepting shower invitations till these bruises heal."
"Why's that?"
"They don't bother you?" Noah gestured at himself. "Looks pretty bad."
Atlas closed the distance fast. "You think that's what bothers me?"
Noah stepped back. Hit the counter. Trapped.
Atlas's hands came down on either side of him. Caged in.
"I'll invite you when I'm healed," Noah tried.
Atlas leaned in. Close. "We're showering. Now."
Not a question. Never was.
Noah's breath caught. "Atlas—"
Atlas took his hand. Tugged him forward.
Noah followed. Of course he did.
---
Steam filled the bathroom fast.
Noah stepped under the water first. Let it run over him—hot enough to sting, washing away the morning cold.
Atlas got in behind him.
For a moment they just stood there. Water running between them.
Then Atlas's hands found his waist. Careful. Avoiding the bruises.
"Turn around."
Noah did.
Atlas reached for the soap. Started washing Noah's back in slow circles. Not sexual. Just... taking care of him.
Noah closed his eyes. Let himself be taken care of.
"You scare the shit out of me," Atlas said quietly. "You know that?"
Noah opened his eyes. Water running down his face. "I know."
"Then stop."
"I'm trying."
Atlas's hand paused. Then continued. "Try harder."
Noah turned around. Faced him. Water streaming between them.
"I will. I promise."
Atlas looked at him for a long moment. Then pulled him in. Careful of his ribs.
They stood like that. Under the water. Holding each other.
Steam rising around them like they were the only two people left in the world.
---
After, they got dressed.
Noah pulled on his clothes—watched Atlas button his shirt in the mirror. The precision in his movements. The control he never let slip except with Noah.
Atlas was fixing his tie when he spoke. "Meeting this afternoon. You're coming."
"Who's it with?"
"Read your emails lately?"
Noah stayed quiet.
Atlas turned. Gave him that look. "Don't even think about bailing."
Noah walked over. Started straightening Atlas's collar. "I'll come. But only to watch you."
His smile was pure trouble.
Atlas's mouth twitched. "Brat."
"Wonder where I learned that." Noah finished with the collar. Stepped back.
Atlas grabbed his waist. Pulled him close. "There's vitamins in the kitchen. Take them. You'll heal faster."
Noah's whole face lit up.
He kissed Atlas—hard and grateful and a little desperate.
"You're too good to me," he whispered.
Atlas's eyes went dark. Dangerous.
He stepped back. "We should go."
---
WELLIN TOWER
Noah's office felt smaller than usual.
He dropped his bag. Leaned against the door.
Breathe. Just breathe.
At his desk, he pulled out his laptop. The vitamin bottle fell out with it.
He smiled. Took one.
Heal fast. Get back to normal.
He opened his emails. Started responding. Reports. Analyses. Safe, predictable work.
The door opened without knocking.
Sarah and Jerry.
Noah looked up. Smiled. "Team entrance?"
Sarah came closer. Studied his face. "What happened?"
"Climbing accident. Slipped."
Jerry crossed his arms. Smirking. "First the basketball thing. Now this. What's next—base jumping?"
Sarah touched his cheek. Gentle. "Still pretty though."
Noah felt his own calm surprise him.
He grinned. Real. "Maybe I'll try skydiving. Keep you guys entertained."
"Jesus Christ," Jerry muttered. "Be careful, yeah?"
Sarah winked at him. "We need you in one piece."
They left.
Noah sat back in his chair.
I'm okay. I think I'm actually okay.
---
Noah grabbed his laptop. Headed out.
In the elevator, he pulled out his phone:
Noah:coming to the meeting just to watch you
Atlas: 😏
Noah typed again:
Noah:missed you
The doors opened.
Atlas was walking down the hall with four executives. All suits and serious faces.
Fuck.
Noah slowed down. Made himself small. Quiet.
After they disappeared into the conference room, he slipped in through a side door. Back row. Corner seat.
Invisible. Stay invisible.
The meeting started.
Project managers talking. Budget concerns. Timeline shifts. Organizational restructuring.
Noah took notes. Kept his head down.
Don't look at him. Do not look.
But he felt it. Atlas at the front of the room. Listening. Leading.
For just a second, Noah glanced up.
Their eyes met.
Noah looked away fast. Heart racing.
Control yourself.
An hour later it ended.
Atlas and his team filed out first. Then everyone else.
Noah packed up slow. Last one out.
He didn't even respond to my text.
His phone buzzed as he walked to his office.
Marcus:weekend's all set 👍 leaving Friday
Noah: 👍
Noah stopped.
Weekend.
I didn't tell Atlas.
Shit.
---
He opened his office door.
Atlas was sitting in his chair.
Noah's heart jumped. He almost dropped everything in his hands.
Caught himself. Gripped tighter.
Walked in. Smiled—couldn't help it. Soft and stupid and happy.
"Hey."
Atlas stood. Moved toward him. Slow.
Pulled him close. Careful. Always careful now.
Leaned down. Whispered in his ear: "Missed you too."
Noah's heart went wild. His hands found Atlas's chest. Gripped his shirt.
Atlas pulled back just enough to see his face. "You avoided me the entire meeting."
"I was taking notes." Noah smiled. Innocent.
Complete bullshit.
Atlas's hands slid to his hips. Pulled him flush against him. Kissed him.
Hard. Possessive. Like proving a point.
When they broke apart, both breathing heavier, Atlas murmured against his mouth: "That why you never looked my way once?"
"Did I do that?" Noah laughed. Breathless.
Atlas wrapped his arms around him. Held him close.
"See you tonight."
He pulled away. Walked to the door.
Paused. Looked back.
Noah was smiling like an idiot.
Atlas smiled too.
The door closed.
Noah collapsed into his chair.
Stared at nothing. Still smiling.
Still feeling Atlas's hands on him.
Fuck.
He looked at his phone. Marcus's message still there.
Weekend. Friends. No Atlas.
His smile faded.
I have to tell him.
But how?