SATURDAY
NOAH
Noah woke up and didn't move.
Just lay there. Eyes closed. Breathing steady.
Something felt different.
His chest didn't hurt. His throat wasn't tight.
He felt—
Light.
Like someone had scooped out all the heavy shit and left just air.
He opened his eyes. Ceiling above. Morning light filtered through the blinds.
Quiet outside. Saturday traffic.
Normal.
Then it hit.
Last night.
The party. Atlas. The car. The bathroom.
Cold water. Atlas holding him.
The crying.
Oh god, the crying.
Noah's face burned. He pressed his palms to his eyes.
He'd fallen apart. Completely. In front of Atlas fucking Sterling.
I'm here.
Atlas had said that.
Held him while he sobbed like a kid.
Carried him to bed.
Noah's stomach twisted.
He grabbed his phone from the nightstand.
Marcus:you good? text me back
Marcus:seriously dude. you alive?
Both from last night.
Noah typed: Yeah. Need a day. Talk tomorrow.
Hit send before he could overthink it.
Phone face down on the table.
He needed to move.
Found his running shoes in the closet. Dusty.
Laced them up.
The park was empty. Early. Fog hanging low.
He started slow.
Then faster.
Lungs burning. Legs screaming.
Good.
He pushed harder.
Sweat poured down his back. Salt in his eyes.
Each step pounding something out.
Emma's face.
His own voice breaking.
Atlas's hands on his back.
Steady. Sure.
I'm here.
His vision blurred at the edges. Legs shaking.
Kept going.
Third mile before he stopped.
Bent over. Hands on knees.
Gasping.
Better.
Quieter inside now.
Like he'd run out all the noise.
Back home. Shower. Hot until his skin turned red.
Coffee. Strong. Black.
The couch called. He sank into it.
His bookshelf caught his eye. That thriller Marcus mentioned months ago.
Never opened it.
He grabbed it now.
First page. Three sentences.
His mind drifted.
Atlas's voice. Low and certain.
I'm here.
Noah blinked. Focused again.
Made it through a chapter before his thoughts circled back.
The words kept rearranging into Atlas's face. Those amber eyes. The way he'd held Noah like he might break.
The book closed in his hands.
His coffee had gone cold.
He didn't care.
Evening came quiet.
He made pasta. Ate some. Put the rest away.
Netflix. Twenty minutes scrolling.
Picked something. Didn't matter what.
Fifteen minutes in he realized he hadn't followed any of it.
The mug in his hands. Warmth fading between his palms.
Thinking.
Monday. Walking into the office. Seeing Atlas.
What the fuck came next.
His phone stayed silent.
No texts. No calls.
Nothing from Atlas.
He waited for disappointment.
It didn't come.
Just space.
Room to breathe.
Maybe that's what he needed.
TV off. Darkness settled.
City lights through the window. Distant traffic sounds.
Tomorrow he'd figure it out.
Tonight—just this. Sitting in the quiet. And that was okay.
ATLAS
The knock came at eleven.
Atlas stayed on the couch.
Another knock. Harder.
"Atlas, I know you're in there."
Alice.
He stood. Opened the door.
Alice stopped.
Stared.
"Jesus Christ. Did you sleep in those?"
He stepped back. Let her in.
She walked past him. Turned. Really looked.
His shirt from yesterday. Wrinkled. Half-unbuttoned.
Hair a mess. Face unshaven. Dark circles under his eyes.
"When did you last sleep?"
He went back to the couch.
Picked up his coffee. Cold. Drank it anyway.
Alice took the chair across from him.
Waited.
His fingers found the cup's rim. Traced it. Over and over.
Gaze fixed on the wall. On something she couldn't see.
"Okay," she said. "What happened? Did you fire someone? Hostile takeover? What?"
"Nothing."
"That's bullshit." She leaned forward. Studied him. "Oh my god. Is this about that guy?"
Atlas's hand stilled.
"The Wells kid," Alice said. Softer now.
"Noah."
Fast. Automatic correction.
Alice went quiet.
Her expression changed. Understanding settling in.
"Shit. It's him. Isn't it."
Atlas looked at her finally.
Couldn't lie to Alice. Never could.
She saw it in his face.
"Fuck." She leaned back. "How long?"
"Don't know. Since the party maybe. Before. I don't—" He stopped. "I don't know."
"Does he know?"
"No. Maybe." His voice went rough. "I don't know."
"Does he feel the same way?"
Atlas's jaw locked. "How would I know?"
Silence stretched between them.
Alice picked up her bag. Stood.
Walked to the door. Paused with her hand on the handle.
Looked back over her shoulder.
"You know," she said, "you're allowed to actually want something for yourself. Right? Not just control everything." She shifted the bag on her shoulder. "Just want it."
Atlas's throat tightened.
"Give yourself a chance." Her voice dropped. Gentle. "Finally. For once."
The door closed quiet behind her.
Atlas's apartment felt massive. Empty.
Too quiet.
He picked up his phone.
Noah's name at the top.
Thumb hovering.
He set it down.
Walked to the window instead.
City spread below. Saturday. People everywhere living their lives.
His palm pressed to the glass.
Cold.
I'm here, he'd said last night.
Meant it.
Now he had to figure out what that actually meant.
His phone buzzed.
Alice:for what it's worth - i think he's good for you
Alice:even if it scares you shitless
He stared at the screen.
Typed: It does.
Alice:good. means it matters
Phone away. Back to the window.
Sunset bleeding across the skyline.
Lights coming on below.
His reflection stared back from the glass.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow he'd deal with it.
Tonight he existed in this space between who he was and who he was becoming.
Scared.
Lost.
But for the first time in years—feeling something real.