Noah woke to pain. Dull ache behind his ribs. Like something bruised inside.
Sunlight sliced through the blinds. He turned his face into the couch cushion.
Marcus's couch. Right.
Atlas at Marcus's door. His face. That last—
His stomach dropped. He sat up. The room tilted left.
Pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes until he saw spots.
Marcus. Jared. They watched me fall apart. They—
"Fuck." Barely audible. Then louder. "Fuck."
He stood. Legs unsteady. Walked to the bathroom.
Cold water. He splashed his face. Droplets ran down his neck. Inside his collar.
Looked up.
Hair plastered to his forehead on one side. Eyes bloodshot. Lips cracked at the corners.
His fingers found the sink edge. Knuckles white.
"It's over." Said it to his reflection. Forced the words out hard. "Everything's over."
The mirror didn't agree.
---
Voices from the kitchen. Low. Careful.
Noah walked in. His bare feet made no sound on the tile.
Marcus at the stove. Jared setting out forks. They both turned.
Quick once-over. Assessing.
"Morning." Noah's voice scraped.
"Hey." Marcus smiled. Didn't quite reach his eyes. "Sleep?"
"Yeah. Fine."
Jared leaned his hip against the counter. "Want water?"
Marcus already held out a glass.
Noah took it. Drank. Swallowing hurt.
Marcus flipped something in the pan. "Sit. Making pancakes."
Noah pulled out a chair. Sat. Both hands wrapped around the glass. His thumbnail picked at a rough spot on the rim.
Jared came over. Straddled the chair backward. Grinned. "No pills this time."
Marcus reached across. Smacked his shoulder. "Shut up."
Jared laughed. Shoved him back. "I'm being nice."
Noah's mouth twitched. Almost.
"What do you want to eat?" Jared asked. His voice lighter. Trying.
"Whatever you're making."
"About last night—" Noah stared at the table. A coffee ring stain near his elbow. "Sorry. For that."
Marcus grabbed the dish towel. Threw it at Noah. Hit him in the face.
Soft. Smelled like dish soap.
"Stop." Marcus's voice firm. Not mean. "We've seen worse. Way worse."
"Remember when you called your ex?" Jared grinned. "Except you called your mom?"
Marcus pointed the spatula. "Swore we'd never mention that."
"Or when I got locked in that bathroom?" Jared laughed. "Three AM. You had to bribe the bouncer."
"That was—yeah, okay, that was bad."
Back and forth. Old stories. Filling silence. Making noise so Noah didn't have to.
Noah listened. Watched them move. Easy together.
Atlas in the kitchen. Leaning against the counter. Coffee in hand. How he'd catch Noah's waist when he walked past. Pull him in. His mouth—
His phone buzzed.
Noah's hand shot to his pocket. Heart hammering.
Pulled it out. Screen bright.
Work email.
Not Atlas.
He exhaled. Set the phone on the table. Face-up. Watched it.
Why would he text? You told him you needed time.
Did I mean it?
He unlocked it. Scrolled. Work stuff. Friends checking in.
Atlas's name. Three unread.
His thumb hovered. Nail tapped the screen once. Twice.
Not yet. Can't.
Scrolled past. Found Sienna instead.
Can you send my things? Sunny and Luna too? I'm at Marcus's.
Typed the address. Hit send.
Three dots appeared immediately.
How are you?
His jaw clenched. He typed.
I'll be okay.
Then:
Can you send them today?
Of course. Call if you need anything. Please.
Thanks
He set the phone down. Stared at it.
Waiting for Atlas's name.
Nothing came.
Marcus glanced over. Saw. Said nothing.
Jared poured coffee. Stopped mid-pour. "You good?"
"Yeah." Noah looked up. "Sunny and Luna are coming. That okay? I'll find a place soon—"
Marcus threw a napkin. It bounced off Noah's chest. "What problem?"
"I can't just—"
"Try to leave. I'll hide your shit." Marcus waved the spatula. "I mean it."
Jared sat back down. "My couch is bigger. Move in with me."
"Thanks."
Marcus brought plates. Set them down. Pancakes. Too many.
Noah picked up his fork. Cut a piece. Put it in his mouth. Chewed without tasting.
Marcus noticed. Raised one eyebrow.
Noah took another bite. Then another. Going through motions.
Marcus and Jared kept talking. Work. Jared's sister. Nothing important. Just sound.
Noah focused on their voices. Anything but—
Don't think about him.
Failed.
After eating—after Marcus glared until Noah finished—Noah stood. "I'm gonna walk."
Marcus nodded. "Yeah. Go."
Neither asked to come. They understood.
---
Outside. April cold. Sun out but the wind bit.
Noah put earbuds in. Started walking.
Music played. He heard none of it.
People passing. Dogs. Coffee cups. Lives continuing like nothing changed.
His phone. Heavy in his pocket. Burning.
Just check. One look.
No.
He walked. Turned left. Then right. No plan.
Store window. He caught his reflection. Stopped.
Hair a disaster. Face drawn. Eyes hollow.
Kept walking.
Barbershop. Small. He went in before thinking.
"What can I do?" The barber. Older guy. Steady hands.
Noah sat. "Cut it. Make it different."
The barber looked at him. Probably saw it. Breakup haircut. Every barber knew.
"How much?"
"I don't—" Noah's voice cracked. "Just different."
"Alright. Sink first."
Warm water. Hands working through his hair. Pressure on his scalp.
Noah's eyes closed.
Atlas's fingers. Shower. Moving slow. Gentle like Noah was—
Water stopped.
Back to the chair. Scissors cutting.
Noah watched. Hair falling. Cape. Floor.
Someone else appearing in the mirror.
Done. He paid. Left.
Found a store. Bought clothes. Jeans. Two shirts. A jacket. Nothing Atlas had seen. Nothing that held memory.
Phone buzzed.
He grabbed it. Fast. Desperate.
Sienna: Driver's on the way.
Not Atlas.
Thanks
Walked back. Faster.
---
Door opened. Marcus and Jared looked up.
Jared's eyes widened. "Shit. Your hair."
" Damn bro, glow up?," Marcus said.
"It's just a haircut."
Noah dropped bags. Pulled out a box. "Got these."
Pastries. Chocolate stuff. Way too many.
"Gonna kill us with sugar?" Jared took the box. Opened it immediately.
Noah grabbed his new clothes. Went to the guest room. Changed. Came back with Marcus's sweats.
"Washing these."
Marcus crossed the room. Pulled Noah into a hug. Quick. Tight.
"You're okay. Gonna be okay."
Noah nodded. His throat closed.
Jared messed up Noah's hair. "Looks good. Like a heartbreaker now."
"Stop being weird." Noah's voice rough. "Both of you."
"We're always weird," Marcus said.
Noah went to the kitchen. Put things away. Pulled out pastries. Plated them.
Took a chocolate croissant. Then another. Chewing mechanically. No taste.
Jared watched. "Should we worry?"
Marcus raised an eyebrow. Took his own plate.
Noah ate a third. Swallowing without thinking.
Doorbell rang.
His pulse spiked.
Not him. Can't be.
Alice's driver. Sunny burst through. Golden fur flying. Jumped. Paws hit Noah's chest.
"Hey buddy." Voice breaking. Noah dropped down. Face in Sunny's neck. "Missed you. God."
Sunny smelled like home. Their apartment. Atlas's cologne in his fur.
His eyes burned.
Don't. Don't cry.
Driver brought suitcases. Marcus and Jared took them.
Luna appeared. Gray. Slow. Sniffed everything. Wary.
Eventually curled in Noah's lap. Warm weight.
His fingers moved through her fur. Repetitive. Soothing nothing.
"Tonight?" Jared asked. "What do you want to do?"
"Doesn't matter."
---
Later. Door opened. Sam and Alex. Food. Beer. Noise.
"Yo!" Sam hugged him. "What's up?"
"Good."
Liar.
They spread out. Opened drinks. Talked loud. Overlapping. Including Noah in everything.
Noah smiled. Laughed when they looked.
Felt nothing inside.
Video games. Someone suggested it. They played. Got competitive. Loud.
Noah held the controller. Pressed buttons. Watched the screen.
Seeing Atlas. This game. How intense he'd get. How he'd pull Noah close. "One more round." Turning into five. His hands—
"Noah?"
Marcus. Watching.
"I'm fine."
"Basketball tomorrow?" Sam asked. "Weather's nice."
Jared and Marcus glanced at Noah.
"Yeah."
The court. Atlas showing up. Grabbing his hand after — for the first time. Public. Not hiding.
His chest constricted. Sharp.
"You sure you're good?" Marcus again.
"Yeah."
Later. After they left. Noah stood. "I'm sleeping."
Sunny and Luna followed.
"Night," Jared called.
"See you tomorrow," Marcus added.
---
Guest room. Noah sat on the bed. Changed.
All day. Moving. Busy. Occupied.
Now. Alone.
Now everything hit.
Sunny jumped up. Settled beside him. Luna on his chest.
Noah looked at Sunny. "Did you see him today? Atlas?"
Sunny's tail moved. Slow. Eyes sad.
Dogs knew.
"Don't think about him." Out loud. To himself.
Didn't work.
Lay back. Ceiling. White. Plain.
The yacht. Their bed. His hands. Mouth. Voice. "Don't give up on us."
Tears. Silent. Hot.
Let them fall.
Phone on the nightstand. Picked it up.
Three messages. Atlas. Still unread.
Thumb over his name. Hovering.
Just open them. Read.
Locked it. Set it down. Face-up.
Watched.
Nothing new came.
Has to end. It has to.
Does it?
Why?
Because—
No answer.
Hand in Sunny's fur. Over and over. Trying to calm.
Thought about Atlas until exhausted.
Sleep came.
Atlas came with it.
Woke at six. Grabbed phone.
Nothing.
Nine AM. Checked.
Nothing.
Eleven AM.
Nothing.
---
Atlas woke to wrong.
Wrong ceiling. Wrong light slanting through unfamiliar blinds.
He pushed himself up. The mattress gave differently. Too soft. Guest room soft.
Alice's house.
Right.
His thoughts moved thick. Sluggish. Like wading through mud.
He swung his legs over. Feet hit carpet. Plush. Not the hardwood of their—his—bedroom.
Stood. The room swayed. Or he did.
Walked to the door. His hand found the frame. Steadied himself.
The hallway stretched. Too bright. Morning sun through the windows at the far end.
Stairs. He climbed them. One hand on the railing. Not trusting his balance.
Second floor. The bedroom. Their bedroom.
His steps slowed. Ten feet out. Five.
The door. Closed. His hand hovered over the knob.
Cold brass under his palm.
He pushed.
The bed. Made. White duvet pulled tight. Pillows arranged.
Like nothing happened.
But everything happened.
Noah. Right there. Yesterday morning. God, was it only yesterday?
His hands in Atlas's hair. His mouth. His body.
I love you.
Still hearing it. Noah's voice. Raw. Real.
Atlas's lungs forgot how to work.
"He's gone."
Said it out loud. To the room. To himself.
Testing if saying it made it real.
It did.
Claws on hardwood. Fast clicking. Getting closer.
Sunny burst through the door. Ears back. Tail helicopter-spinning. She ran straight at him. Hit his legs. Nearly knocked him over.
Atlas dropped. Knees hitting carpet. Arms around her.
"He left." His voice cracked down the middle. "He's gone."
Sunny whined. High and thin. Pressed her whole head under his chin. Her body shaking or his shaking or both.
She knows. Dogs always know.
Atlas buried his face in her fur. Breathed. Citrus shampoo.
Stop. Don't.
He stood. Looked at the bed again.
Can't stay here.
---
Bathroom. He turned the shower on. Hot. Cranked all the way.
Steam rose fast. Filled the space.
He stripped. Stepped under the spray.
Water pounded his shoulders. His neck. Too hot. Almost scalding.
Last night. I need time.
How did we—when did it—
The shampoo. Noah's bottle. Orange cap. He grabbed it.
Squeezed. Too much came out. Slippery in his palm.
Worked it through his hair. The smell. God, the smell. Noah. Everywhere.
Not enough.
He did it again. Filled his palm. Scrubbed harder.
And again.
The smell wouldn't stick. Wouldn't transfer.
Body wash. Noah's. Green bottle. He used half of it. Covered himself. Chest. Arms. Everywhere Noah had touched.
Get it on me. Make it stay.
It didn't.
He stood there. Water running. Going cold now.
Turned it cold. All the way. Shock of ice.
Gasped. His breathing evened. Forced itself regular.
Off. He twisted the handle. Stood dripping.
Grabbed a towel. Wrapped it around his waist.
Mirror. Completely fogged. He swiped it with his forearm. Hard enough to hurt.
His reflection appeared through the clearing.
His chest. His ribs. Red marks. Fading to purple. Noah's mouth. Noah's teeth. Yesterday morning.
Proof he'd been there. Proof it was real.
His hands slammed the counter. Marble cold under his palms. His forearms flexed. Tendons standing out. Veins prominent along the muscle.
"Fuck."
Loud. Echoing off tile.
He turned. Left fast. Couldn't look anymore.
---
Dressed. Jeans. First ones he grabbed. T-shirt. Gray. Whatever.
Downstairs. The kitchen smelled like coffee. Dark roast. Alice's preference.
She sat at the island. Mug in both hands. Looked up when he entered.
"You doing better?"
Her voice careful. Measured.
Atlas didn't answer. Went to the coffee maker. Poured. His hand shook. Just slightly. The pot clinked against the mug rim.
Liquid sloshed. Nearly spilled.
Alice stood. Walked over. Her hand landed on his shoulder. Warm. Steady.
"Eat something."
"Not hungry."
"Atlas—"
"I said I'm not hungry." Sharper than he meant.
Alice studied him. Her jaw set. That look she got when she decided something.
"We're talking. Now. Come on."
She picked up both mugs. Walked to the living room.
Atlas followed. Felt like a kid being sent to the principal's office.
He dropped onto the couch. Sank deep. Leather creaked.
Alice sat across from him. The chair by the window. Legs crossed. Watching him over her mug.
Sunlight behind her. He couldn't quite see her face. Backlit.
"What happened yesterday? All of it. Tell me."
Atlas talked. Fast. Words tripping over each other. The conversation. Marcus's apartment. Noah's door. The way Noah looked at him. What he said. What Atlas said. Everything.
His hands moved while he spoke. Couldn't keep them still. Fingers tapping his knee. Then gripping it. Then moving again.
Slight tremor. He noticed. Tried to stop. Couldn't.
Alice listened. Sipped coffee. Didn't interrupt once.
When he finished, she took a long breath. Let it out through her nose.
"Good."
Atlas's head snapped up. Stared at her.
"What?"
Alice leaned forward. Elbows on knees. Mug dangling from one hand.
"If Noah did what you did—shut you out for weeks, kept secrets, made you feel crazy—how would you feel?"
Pause. Her eyes never left his.
"What would you have done?"
Her voice cold. Surgical.
Atlas's hand went to his forehead. Pressed there. His elbow on his knee. He turned his head. Looked at the window instead.
Couldn't answer. Didn't want to.
Alice drank. Settled back. Let the silence stretch.
"You can't run your personal life like a business negotiation."
"I don't do that." Immediate. Defensive.
Alice said nothing. Just watched.
The clock ticked. Someone was doing yardwork outside. Distant mower sound.
"Everything's black or white to you," she finally said. Quiet. Not mean. Just—true. "Win or lose. No other options. You've built your entire life on that."
"I don't—what are you—"
"You're treating Noah like something you own. Like an asset. Something to protect and control."
Atlas stared at his coffee. Still hadn't drunk any. It was probably cold now.
He stood. Couldn't sit anymore. Walked to the window. Sat in the chair there instead. Farther from her.
"I'm protecting him." His voice tight. "From things he doesn't understand—"
"Noah doesn't need you to protect him." Alice's mouth curved. Small. Sad. "He needs a real boyfriend."
The words landed. Heavy.
Atlas's voice came out rough. Barely there.
"A real boyfriend."
Not a question. Just—repeating it. Hearing how it sounded.
It sounded like failure.
"Take some space. Both of you. Let things settle."
"How long?" Automatic. Immediate.
Alice actually smiled. "Don't do that. Not with this. You can't control the timeline."
"He's staying at Marcus's."
"Good. Let him be comfortable. Don't interfere."
Alice stood. Walked to him. Leaned against the window frame.
Outside, the garden. Spring flowers. Too cheerful.
"I know a therapist. Very good. Helped me after—well. I can recommend them."
"That's—I don't need—"
"Don't you?" She looked down at him. "At least you won't end up on the floor like last night."
His jaw clenched. Muscle jumping.
"I'm not going to—I don't need therapy."
"I'll send the information. Your choice what you do with it."
Atlas looked up. His throat worked. Swallowed hard.
"Would it help?" His voice smaller now. "Getting him back?"
Alice's expression shifted. Something like pity. Or understanding. Or both.
"You're getting this all wrong." She turned to the garden. "You can't destroy your relationship and expect a therapist to magically fix it."
"Then what's the point?"
"They help you see what you did. Face it. Understand it."
Atlas's hand back to his forehead. He breathed. Deep. Controlled.
"So what do I do? Right now. What—"
"Nothing."
"What?"
"I know it's hard for you. But do nothing. Just wait."
"For how long? I can't just—"
"That's exactly what you need to do."
The door opened. Sienna. She walked to Alice. Held out her phone.
Alice read the screen. Nodded. "Okay. Thank you."
Sienna glanced at Atlas. Quick. Then left. Fast.
Alice looked back at him.
"Noah's asking for his things. And Sunny and Luna."
Atlas's entire body went rigid. His hand shot to his knee. Gripped. Hard. Knuckles went white. Bone showing through skin.
He looked at Alice. Couldn't speak.
"I'll send them." Her voice softer now. Gentler.
"Why—" His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. Tried again. "Why is he doing this so fast?"
Alice didn't answer.
The silence said enough.
Atlas stood. Sharp. Too fast. Dizzy for a second.
"I'm leaving. Going home."
"We can move you to a different room. One without—"
"No."
He walked out. Called for the housekeeper.
She appeared. "Sir?"
"Pack my things. I'm leaving."
"Of course."
She left.
Alice touched his shoulder. Brief. Barely there.
"Call me. If you need anything."
"Thanks."
She left too.
---
Atlas sat back on the couch. Stared at the garden through the glass.
Saw nothing. Just stared.
Soft footsteps. Fast. Light.
Luna appeared. Jumped. Landed on the couch. Walked across. Climbed onto his lap.
Gray fur. Green eyes looking up.
"You're leaving too, huh?"
He kissed her head. Right between her ears.
Luna chirped. That sound cats make. Climbed higher. Onto his shoulder. Pressed her face into his neck. Warm. Purring against his throat.
They stayed like that.
His hand on her back. Feeling her breathe. Her heartbeat fast and light.
Footsteps. The housekeeper.
"Sir? I need to take her now."
Atlas looked at her. His jaw clenched again. That muscle jumping.
He picked Luna up. Gently. Kissed her one more time. Set her in the carrier.
She meowed. Loud. Unhappy.
"I know." His voice broke. "I know."
---
Outside. Bright sun. Too bright.
The car in the driveway. Driver loading suitcases. Noah's suitcases. His whole life packed up and leaving.
Barking. Excited. Loud.
Sunny.
Atlas walked to the car. The back door. Opened it.
"Hey, girl."
Sunny exploded. Jumped up. Paws on the seat. Tail destroying everything in range. She licked his face. His hands. Anywhere she could reach.
Atlas cupped her head. Both hands. Held her there.
"We'll be together again. Soon. Real soon. I promise you."
Sunny barked. Once. Twice. Looked at him with complete trust.
Atlas closed the door. Stepped back.
The engine started. Low rumble.
The car pulled away. Down the drive.
Atlas stood there. Hands in his pockets. Fists clenched inside. Jaw tight.
The car turned. Gone.
His eyes burned. Hot pressure building.
One tear. Then two. Hot on his face.
He wiped them. Fast. Looked around. No one watching.
"Damn it." Barely sound. Just breath.
---
His car. He got in. Sat there.
The phone in his pocket. He pulled it out.
No messages. Nothing from Noah.
His thumb hovered over Noah's contact.
Just call. One call. Just hear his voice.
He locked the screen. Threw the phone. It hit the passenger seat. Bounced.
Started the engine. Too loud in the quiet car.
Where am I going?
Drove. No destination. Just away.
The yacht. Yeah. There.
Marina parking. He grabbed his bags. Walked down the dock. Wood creaking under his feet. Salt smell. Seagulls calling.
Aboard. He dropped everything. Sat on the deck.
Water. Small waves. The boat rocking. Gentle. Constant.
His phone rang. Work. He answered. Put out fires. Wrote emails.
Automatic. Mechanical. None of it mattered.
Hours blurred.
Another notification. Text from Alice. Therapist's information.
He stared at it.
Called the number. Made an appointment.
Set the phone down.
Sat. The sun moved. He didn't.
His stomach growled. Loud. When had he eaten last?
Ordered food. Delivery guy brought it aboard. Thai. Their—his—usual order.
Opened the container. The smell hit him.
Noah. Their kitchen. Eating straight from the containers. Laughing about something. Stealing his spring rolls.
He took three bites. Set it down.
Couldn't.
Inside. Found whiskey. Poured three fingers. Drank. Poured again.
Cigar from the box. Lit it. Sat on deck.
Didn't think. Tried not to.
But all he saw was Noah. Last night. Those eyes. Looking at him like Atlas was—
A stranger. Like Atlas was someone he didn't know anymore.
Maybe he was.
The sun set. Orange. Pink. Purple. Beautiful. Empty.
Inside. He collapsed on the couch. Leather stuck to his skin.
The water. Lapping. Gentle. Rhythmic against the hull.
His eyes closed.
Sleep dragged him under.
Noah was there. In the dreams.
Always there.