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Chapter Text

Atlas

Paisley, Scotland, March 22, 1938

It was just after eleven o'clock in the morning, and strangely enough that day the sun stood high over the small village of Paisley. The usual gray sky had given way to a clearer light that warmed the rooftops and made the breeze feel almost pleasant. The streets, especially the main one, were bustling with people: shopkeepers calling out from their stalls, wheels of carts grinding over gravel, children laughing as they ran, women exchanging greetings at the corners. Paisley, at that hour, was brimming with life, and everyone had already started their day. Everyone…except Atlas Crane.

He was still sprawled in his bed, breathing heavily through his mouth. He was a striking young man, nearly twenty: tall, with slicked-back blond hair and a charming face. His personality, though, was far less polished.
There were numerous clothes spread on the floor, and the room smelled faintly of woman perfume and smoke. Next to Atlas lay a beautiful brunette, sound asleep. They wore only their underwear, the sheets tossed aside. She was probably someone he’d met the night before in a club.
All of a sudden, a voice echoed from the floor below.

«Atlas!»

It grew louder and closer, until it became a door handle rattling.

«Atlas! Don't tell me you're still asleep!»

The girl next to him jolted awake, and began to shake him off his shoulders. «Wake up! Your mother’s here!»

Atlas first opened one eye, trying to figure out what was happening. «What?»

The girl pointed to the door, which handle kept rising and falling repeatedly, accompanied by Atlas' mother's screams.

«Fuck.»he muttered. «Get dressed, and quickly.»He leapt from the bed and grabbed the first pair of pants he saw, nearly tripping as he pulled them on.

«I’m awake!» he shouted back at his mother, a cigarette already between his lips.

«You better get moving. It’s after eleven!» came the sharp reply.

The girl scrambled for her clothes, scattered across the floor. «Didn’t you say your parents were leaving this morning?»

«That’s what they told me.» He flicked the lighter. «You stay here. I’ll let you out once they’re gone.»

«But I–»

She didn't have time to finish, as she saw him disappear out the door.

At the bottom of the stairs, Atlas’ mother was waiting for him, arms crossed, face like thunder.

«Where were you last night? You reek of alcohol. And I heard you come in after three again.»

Atlas brushed past her. «Morning to you too.»

«And don’t think I don’t know you’ve snuck some girl into that room–»

«I’m nearly twenty.» he retorted. «What I do is none of your business.»

«You live under my roof! You want freedom? Get a steady job. Settle down with one of those girls you chase every night. Maybe then you’ll afford your own house and your own hours.» She followed him into the kitchen. «Look at your brother! At your age, he already had responsibilities.»

Atlas lit the cigarette, ignoring her tone.

«Did you hear me?» she snapped.

He exhaled smoke slowly. «Every word. But you say the same thing every time. I’m not like you. And I sure as hell won’t end up like Dad.»
That one hit the nerve. She reached for a slipper to throw at him, but he had already splintered out the door. He was running down the street, a big smile on his face and the wind ruffling his blond hair.
The town didn’t love him, he knew that. The elderly gave him long, judgmental stares as he walked by, but it didn’t really matter.
If for them living meant marrying someone they didn't even love just for convenience, starting a traditional family and then working everyday until death…they might as well not live at all.

—

Laurent

Livingstone, Scotland, March 22, 1938.
The morning was gray and still, the wind tugging at the branches of the trees surrounding the Sinclaire estate.

Laurent sat curled up on the stone bench in the small enclosed garden, notebook resting on his knees, pen poised but idle. His brown hair fell messily over his forehead, glasses slightly crooked. The silence pressed around him, broken only by the occasional bird and the distant rustle of leaves.
He tapped the pen lightly, staring at the page. The words he wanted wouldn’t come, and his mind wandered to the city beyond the estate walls. Glasgow University–his biggest dream–seemed impossibly far. A world he longed to reach, though his father’s strict rules made it feel almost forbidden.

Laurent thought of the weeks spent inside, the afternoons when he had been told to “sit quietly and learn to behave like a proper boy.” The memory stung faintly, like the echo of his father’s disapproval still lingering in the corners of the house. He clenched his notebook in his lap, imagining the narrow, winding streets, the crowds, the laughter not monitored or controlled.

A soft crunch of footsteps made him glance up. Inès was approaching, her dark hair catching the pale light, her steps measured and confident. “You’ll catch a chill sitting out here,” she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she stopped beside him.

“I needed air,” Laurent murmured, closing the notebook with a soft snap. He tucked it under his arm, fingers lingering on the worn cover.

“You’ve been thinking about Glasgow again, haven’t you?” Inès asked, sliding down beside him onto the bench. Her sharp eyes softened as they met his. She didn’t need to speak the words aloud–she already knew.

Laurent hesitated, then nodded. “I hope my father will let me go,” he admitted, voice low. “I can’t resist here much longer.”

Inès gave him a small, knowing look. “You might have a chance. You just need to play your cards right. And I’ll help however I can.”

He let a faint smile escape, feeling lighter for the first time that morning. “Thanks.”

She returned the smile. “Remember, sometimes the smallest risk brings the greatest freedom.”

She stood, brushing the dust from her skirt. “Come in. Lunch will be ready soon.”

Laurent stayed seated a little longer, watching the gray sky shift above him. A flicker of hope warmed him, fragile but real, a light he hadn’t felt in years. The wind tugged at his hair, and he let himself imagine a future just beyond the estate walls, where he could finally be the person he wanted to be.

Chapter Text

No Surprises - Radiohead (1997)

-

Almost a week had passed since the fight with his mother, and Atlas, instead of doing something to prove he wasn’t the good-for-nothing they all claimed, had only confirmed their expectations.

That very afternoon, he’d been fired from the shoemaker’s shop where he’d been working for two months. He hated that job, found it mind-numbing, and had told himself he’d got fired on purpose. But the truth was probably simpler: even the owner had grown tired of his disdain and lack of commitment.

Instead of taking the shortcut home, Atlas wandered slowly down the main street, kicking pebbles in his path. The idea of returning to face his parents made his stomach turn.  Even he, who had always claimed not to care about their judgement, was starting to feel the weight of that situation. The weight of failure.

By the time he reached the house gate, he paused. Gravel crunched beneath his boots as he approached the door. He stood still for a moment, drawing in a breath, like a soldier preparing for battle. The hallway was strangely quiet. His mother’s voice didn’t greet him with its usual sharp tone. Maybe she was out. He began to move silently toward the stairs when–

«Aren’t you going to say anything?»

Atlas froze at hearing his father’s voice. He turned slowly, and saw him standing in the doorway.

«You got fired.»

«News travels fast.» Atlas muttered, not even bothering to lie.

«Yes, I got fired. Want a medal for finding out?»

«You think this is a joke?»

«No, I think this is just the usual script. You yell, we fight, and we go to bed hating each other. Let’s just skip to the end.»

His father stepped forward, face red with rage. «We’ve given you tons of chances, Atlas. More than you deserved. And you threw them all away. Do you want to end up in a reform school? A place where maybe someone’ll finally teach you discipline?»

«A reform school?» Atlas laughed, sharp and bitter. «Is that your solution to everything? Lock me up and hope I come back fixed?»

«You’re not a child anymore. It’s time you act like it.»

Atlas didn’t flinch when his father raised his voice. He just looked at him with that half-mocking, half-weary stare.

«I know the problem you have with me. It bothers you not being able to control me, doesn't it? No matter what you do, I’ll never be like Benjamin. Maybe you should’ve stopped at one perfect son.»

The slap, when it came, was fast, expected. Atlas just barely closed his eyes, without arguing. His father’s breath was heavy.

«You want to prove you’re not useless? Then maybe start thinking about a future.»

«I already did.» Atlas replied in a low voice. «It clearly doesn’t include being part of this family.»

He turned and stormed upstairs, locking the bedroom door behind him. His chest rose and fell rapidly. He kicked the desk, scattered books to the floor. Then he slid down against the wall, fists clenched, arms over his head. He didn’t cry, not really. But something behind his eyes burned. He sat there for a while. He wasn't sure how long, exactly.
But then someone knocked.

«Atlas, it’s your mother.»

He didn’t move an inch.

«Please, I just want to talk.»

Knowing she was not going to give up, Atlas stood and opened the door. She walked in and sat down on his bed, while he watched her in silence.

«Your father told me what happened before.» she began. «I know he went a little too far, but...this situation is becoming difficult for us too. Even if we fight all the time…you're still my son, Atlas. And I don't want you to end up in a reformatory.»

He didn’t reply, the inside of his cheek clenched between his teeth.

«That’s why I thought…university, maybe? There’s Glasgow, not far from here. They say it's great.» she sighed. «I know you will disagree, but...it’s the last option left to you.»

Atlas’ eyes widened. «University?» he echoed. «Me?»

She gave a small smile. «You’re smart, Atlas. You’ve always been. When you want.»

«They’ll never accept me.»

«They might.» His mother insisted, almost imploring him. «If you show them your grades. If you try.»

Atlas knew it was never going to work. He wouldn't have lasted a day among those snobby, haughty people. But the other option was to end up confined in a reformatory, which was definitely worse.

He exhaled slowly. «Alright. I’ll consider it.»

His mother slightly nodded, then stood up. «You still have time to think.» She walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Now alone, Atlas lay down on the bed. His gaze fixed on the ceiling and a name echoing in his mind.
Glasgow. A prison? Or perhaps a way out?
To be accepted by others, he would’ve been forced to pretend to be someone he wasn’t. But then again, he already did that every day. At least, if he moved into the campus dorms, his parents would finally leave him alone.

It was not long before they left the house that evening, leaving Atlas on his own. He was changing his clothes, not planning to go out that evening, when something tapped against the window. Confused, he looked out, where a familiar face was grinning at him from the street.

«Ted?» Atlas said, opening the window. «What are you doing here?»

«Getting you out, obviously.» Ted smirked. «They’ve got discounts at the brothel tonight.»

Atlas hesitated, then laughed. «Alright, give me five minutes.»

Shortly afterwards, he went downstairs and walked to the brothel with him. The air was cool, biting, and the moon shone high in the sky.

«You look like shit,» Ted noted. «Everything all right?»

Atlas shrugged. «Same old crap.»

«You need to clear your head. Drink something. Have some fun.»

Ted always made life sound so simple. Just drink and get over it. Part of Atlas envied that. Everything he pushed away came crawling back at night, like a bad song you couldn’t un-hear.

After a few minutes, they arrived in front of the brothel and entered without much hesitation. They got beers, exchanged a few jokes. Inside, the heavy scent of perfume and alcohol hung in the air, as women in revealing outfits moved gracefully between customers.

Atlas was not as at ease as usual. He loved women, he loved attention. But lately, everything felt more like a performance.
He was lost in his thoughts, when a woman approached him. Tall, brunette and breathtakingly beautiful.

«We meet again.» Her tone was slow, sweet. Atlas blinked, vaguely recognizing her. He slept with her one of the last times he went to the brothel.

«I’m free now, if you want.»

He half-smiled. «Sure. Why not.»

He offered her a drink, then they sat in the corner of a worn leather couch. Her body was pressed close to his, her warm laugh in his ear. He held her gently by her left side, smiling when necessary.
But in his head, that noise returned. The voice that asked what the hell he was doing here.

«Atlas Crane?»

He turned. A man was standing near the entrance. «There’s a girl outside. She’s asking for you.»

Atlas sighed. «Can’t even spend a night in peace.»

He stood up and walked out, already knowing who it was.
Outside, under the dull glow of a streetlamp, Elizabeth stood with her arms crossed.

Atlas rubbed his face, stressed. «This better be good.»

«You promised we’d talk.»

«Yeah, I did. But it’s past eleven, Elizabeth. And I’m busy.»

«My father said we have to marry. Soon. He’s already planning things. I…I don’t know what to do.»

«And should I be the one to give you the answer?» he retorted, more sharply than he had intended. «Don’t drag me into your family drama. I have enough of my own.»

Elizabeth looked away, biting her lower lip. «This isn’t just mine. It’s yours, also.» Her voice trembled slightly, betraying the worry she tried to hide. «You don’t love me. You'd rather die than marry me. You're not going to do anything to stop my father?»

Atlas didn’t answer right away. «I just won't marry you, that's all. I'm not going to talk to your father.»

Elizabeth swallowed hard. Her eyes glistened, but she didn’t let him see the tears fall.

«Nevermind.» she muttered. «I…I shouldn’t have come.»

She turned and walked briskly away, shoulders stiff, but her heart pounding with unspoken hope that maybe, somehow, he would intervene.

Atlas ran a hand through his hair and exhaled slowly. The wind had picked up, brushing cold against his face, but he didn’t move.
He hated how easy it became for him to hurt people. How simple it was to shrug off everything, to pretend none of it mattered. But the truth was that he felt everything. Too much, maybe. Pretending not to feel anything was easier.
He turned back toward the brothel, pushing all of it down. It was the only thing he could do.

Chapter Text

Solsbury Hill - Peter Gabriel (1977)

-

It was March 29th, and that meant only one thing: the University of Glasgow was closing applications in two days. It was Laurent’s last and only chance to change his life. According to his grades, he was pretty sure he would have been accepted. The real obstacle was his father. Laurent regretted waiting so long to ask, but the fear of rejection kept him silent. Another day in that house would have been unbearable.

Dinner time was approaching, and it was the only moment of the day when his father wasn’t working. The only chance Laurent had to talk to him. As easy to imagine, family meals at the Sinclaire house were not cheerful affairs. Mostly, his father and uncle dominated the conversation, and anyone else who spoke out of turn was quickly humiliated or ignored. Laurent had learned long ago to keep quiet and speak only when asked.

At seven o’ clock, the maid knocked at his door, telling him dinner was ready. He stood up, his legs unsteady and his heart racing just at the thought of what was awaiting him. He went downstairs and reached the dining room, sitting in his usual place at the table. Inès to his left, his mother to his right, and across the table sat his uncle, aunt, cousin, and, at the head, his father. The man who had made his life feel like a cage. Every movement, every word from that man ignited something in him. A silent, deep-rooted anger. But tonight, anger would get him nowhere. He needed strategy.

He waited in silence as his uncle told a long, dull story about work. His stomach refused food, and his hands trembled slightly under the table. When everyone went silent, he finally spoke.

«You're looking well today, Father,» Laurent said with a painfully forced smile. «How was work?»

Everyone at the table turned to him. It was rare enough for him to address his father, especially with such kindness.

He raised an eyebrow, suspicious. «Not too bad.» came the reply, cold as always. «I know you need something. Just say it already.»

Laurent swallowed. The entire speech he prepared that afternoon slowly faded from his mind, leaving a total void.

«Do...do you remember when I mentioned Glasgow University, a while ago?» His voice barely trembled, but he tried not to show it.

His father nodded, gaze on his plate. Laurent took a slow, measured breath before continuing, as if gathering courage for what he was about to say.

«Well...the deadline for applications is in two days. I…I was wondering if I could send mine.»

With a slow, stiff gesture, Mr Sinclaire rested the glass on the table, making it tinkle.

«We’ve already talked about this. You’re not allowed to leave this house.»

Laurent felt the words strike with the same sting as when he was eight. His chest tightened, the memory too raw to face, too dangerous to voice. He lowered his gaze, nervously rubbing his sweaty hands against each other.

«I know,» he murmured. «But I hoped you might–»

«I said no for a reason.»

His father’s tone wasn’t raised. He didn’t need to shout to make his son shiver. Just his presence filled the room with pressure, making the air thick.

Laurent tried to keep calm, as his heartbeat pounded in his ears. If he wanted to convince him, he had to think like him.

«It would be a great opportunity. Glasgow is a prestigious university, with good job prospects. I don’t wanna stay here all my life, living off the money from your hard work. I’d be just a burden.»

His father’s eyes narrowed. «And what would you study? Fairy tales? Poetry?»

Laurent clenched his fists. «Literature and philosophy.» he replied in a whisper.

«You can't make a living with that rubbish.» His father replied as he let out a harsh laugh. «It’s just a waste of time and money.»

«If I studied law or medicine, like you want me to, I’d fail in no time.» Laurent retorted, more firmly. «But if I studied something I enjoy, I might succeed. Make a career out of it.»

His mother cleared her throat and intervened hesitantly, speaking to her husband.

«He might be right, dear. He has always been good at such things...maybe this is the right path for him.»

Laurent nodded. «I’ll behave. I won't attract attention to myself or embarrass the family in any way. I promise.»

His father’s face remained unreadable, as he dropped the napkin on the table with a sigh.

«I’ll speak to a colleague in Glasgow. A professor who’ll keep an eye on you. If I hear even one bad thing about your behaviour, you’ll be back here in no time. And you won’t find me this reasonable.»

Laurent felt the weight in his chest lift just slightly. «Thank you. I won’t disappoint you.»

«You better not.»

Laurent finished his meal as fast as he could, nearly choking, then excused himself and rushed upstairs.
In his room, he sat down at his desk, stunned. He made it. It wasn’t freedom, not exactly, but it was the closest thing he’d ever had. A crack in the wall.

He opened the drawer, took a blank sheet of paper and, after a deep breath, began to write his letter of application.

He sealed the envelope and put it carefully in the drawer. Tomorrow morning, he’d go out and send it. Now that his father had agreed, half an hour away from the house shouldn’t be a problem.

A few minutes later, someone knocked at the door.

«Come in.» Laurent called, assuming it was Inès. She entered, looking at him with a knowing smile.

«You did it.» she said. «I’m so proud of you.»

Laurent laughed softly. «Yes, apparently I have a brain after all.»

«They’ll definitely accept you. I’m sure you're smarter than most of my classmates.» Inès chuckled. «Tomorrow I’ll come with you to mail the letter.»

Laurent nodded. They chatted a while more, then Inès wished him a good night and returned to her room.

Laurent let his body relax in his chair, exhaling deeply. It still didn’t feel real. Now he was just one step away from reaching his dream.

—

Elsewhere, Atlas Crane was not in the same mood. Where Laurent had a crack in the wall, he faced a solid one.

He sat hunched at his desk, chewing a pen, a blank page staring up at him. He tried to think of any solution, but in the end he was backed against the wall. Attending university was the last option left to him. With some innate intelligence and recommendations, he might have survived without studying too hard.

He sighed reluctantly and began to write.

Mid-letter, he lifted his pen. He informed himself about the faculties in those last days, thinking about which one was best for him. He obviously excluded the more difficult faculties, such as medicine or law, then the science faculties... and he was not left with many options. He knew that Literature and Philosophy was not very hard, and he liked reading.

He huffed and slowly resumed writing. When he finished, he folded the letter, slid it into an envelope, and tossed it onto the desk. He’d probably send it tomorrow morning.

He leaned his elbows on the desk and mumbled: «There’s no way they’ll really take me.»

Chapter Text

Autumn Intro - Andrea Vanzo (2023)

—

The week following the deadline had been full of tension and anticipation. Laurent had sent his application right on time, and a few days later a response from Glasgow University arrived. It wasn't a final acceptance, not yet. But it was something. A positive preliminary evaluation, pending the submission of required documents.

Atlas also received a similar letter, but didn't react with the same enthusiasm. Unfortunately, his mother found it before him and read it aloud passionately as if she were the one being accepted.

«You have to present the documents by the 27th.» she said, waving the paper in front of her son. «Don't you dare mess this up, Atlas.»

So, here they were. Same morning, same destination. But totally different spirits.

The university stood serious and majestic under that grey late April sky. The entrance was swarming with people, all there with the same purpose. And among them, Laurent walked side by side with Inès, clutching the document folder in his hands.

«Where do we go?» he asked, looking around bewildered. «You are the expert here.»

She pointed to a corridor to their right. «The offices are over there. Go ahead, I'll wait here.»

Laurent nodded and walked down the corridor, gripping his clipboard to his chest. He breathed deeply many times, as if he were heading for the gallows. He knocked on the door and entered a small, simple office. Beside a desk, a woman stared at him through her glasses.

«Yes?»

«I'm here for the enrollment documents.»

«Name?»

«Laurent Sinclaire.»

The secretary picked up the documents and leafed through them, occasionally consulting a checklist laying on the desk.

Atlas walked down the corridor, cursing in a low voice as he searched for the right office. He was already late and all those tangled corridors weren't helping him at all. The place smelled stuffy, damp, and people looked at him from head to toe. He already hated it.

At that very moment, a boy came out of a door and stood on the side of the corridor, just where Atlas was walking. But he wasn't paying any attention and walked over him, barely hitting his shoulder.

«Sorry.» Atlas muttered distractedly, without stopping.

Laurent turned quickly, just long enough to catch a glimpse of him. Blond hair, tall, slightly wrinkled shirt and beige trousers. Something about that guy stuck in his head. But he didn't know exactly what. He watched him speed away down the corridor, until he noticed something on the ground. A sheet of paper. He bent down to pick it up.

On the front was written: Crane, Atlas – Literature and Philosophy

His same faculty. And that name...Atlas. It was familiar, but Laurent couldn't remember where he heard it before. Maybe his mind was just tricking him.

«Hey! You dropped this!» he called out, raising his head.

But Atlas already disappeared behind the corner.

Laurent carefully folded that paper and slipped it into a secondary pocket of his bag, to avoid confusing it with his documents. On his way back to Inès, he wondered if it was necessary to return the sheet to that guy or not. Probably not. But it'd be a good excuse to see him again.

—

Two months passed before the definitive letter arrived.

Every morning, Laurent checked the mailbox before breakfast, his fingers brushing over each envelope, hoping, fearing, imagining the one with the University's crest.

Finally, one afternoon, a soft knock at his door made him jump. Inès peeked in, holding a small envelope sealed with the blue University crest.

«I think this is for you.»

Laurent's heart almost stopped. He reached for it with trembling fingers, feeling the weight of every year behind that thin sheet of paper. He tore the seal slowly and unfolded the letter in his hands, his eyes racing over the words.

«I did it,» he whispered, almost afraid to say it aloud.

Inès leaned over, her face alight with a mixture of pride and disbelief. «Really? Let me see!» She scanned the page quickly, her smile widening. «That's amazing, I knew you'd do it.»

Laurent's hands shook slightly as he let the letter fall onto the desk. The weight of his past–the strict rules, the suffocating home, the long years of obedience–seemed to lift, leaving him suspended in the possibility of something new, something his own.

«It's real,» he murmured, astonished. «It's actually real.»

—

Atlas awoke to the soft grey light of the morning, stretching and yawning, the letter lying on the kitchen table. He picked it up lazily, his mind already knowing what it contained. He tore the seal and skimmed the first lines with a detached sigh:

Glasgow...Literature and Philosophy... accepted...

He let the envelope fall back onto the table with a careless flick.

«Congratulations, idiot.» he muttered to himself.

The news barely stirred his heart: just another step in a path he had never truly wanted. Yet, buried under the boredom, there was a faint twinge. A recognition that his life had shifted, even if he didn't care to admit it. He leaned against the counter, staring at the muted morning light, and tried to imagine what it would mean to leave all of it behind, if only for a while.

—

At the end of August, they both moved to campus.

That afternoon, Laurent arrived in front of the university with a small suitcase and a folded map in his hands. His heart was pounding and his eyes shone with an entirely new light. He walked through the wide, arched courtyard, his eyes focused on every detail: the ivy climbing the stone walls, the carved statues decorating every corner... It felt like living in a dream.

His dormitory room was on the third floor. It was quite small and covered with dark wallpaper, which made it look even narrower. There were three canopy beds, two chests of drawers and a small bookcase. Next to the large grated window, in one corner, was a wooden desk on which papers were already spread out.

Laurent inhaled at the top of his lungs, a smile tugging at his lips. That was the place where it all would begin.

Atlas arrived a few hours later. He stopped in front of his dormitory, which was next to Laurent's, and pushed the door open with his foot. Without even looking around, he dropped his suitcase next to the nearest bed and sat down. He looked out of the window, which faced the inner courtyard, but his gaze was lost in the total void.

That evening, they both went down to the Great Hall for dinner. It was a long, high-ceilinged room, where chandeliers hung solemnly from above, casting a soft golden light. Three long wooden tables stretched across the center, while at the far end stood the teachers' table, slightly elevated. The stone walls were adorned with old paintings and faded coats of arms.

Laurent was sitting next to Inès, a steaming bowl of soup waiting for him. But he just couldn't take his eyes off the table on the other side of the room. The boy who bumped into him a few months before–the tall blond with the wrinkled shirt–was standing there, surrounded by a bunch of other students. They were all laughing at something he didn't seem to care about, judging by the forced smile on his face.

Laurent leaned his elbow on the table and tilted his head aside, holding it with his hand. Atlas, Atlas...where did he hear that name before? He didn't usually linger on strangers' faces, but there was something different about him. Maybe it was the way he stood there, uncomfortable around those guys who looked like they'd stepped out of a university brochure. Or maybe he was just ethereally beautiful.

Meanwhile, Atlas was spotted by a group of students who just entered the room. He hadn't even had time to sit down when one of them placed a hand on his shoulder, looking at him with a half-smile. He was tall, with short cropped auburn hair and a confident bearing.

«You must be Atlas, right? Henry Crane's son?»

Atlas barely nodded, reluctantly. He just wanted to eat his dinner in peace, but that guy–Percival Milton, called Percy, who attended Economics Faculty–started talking about himself, his academic achievements, his plans for the future and the connections he had in common with his father. Atlas didn't even listen to him. He merely nodded at regular intervals, hoping that was enough.

When he finally got rid of him, he sat down at the table in front of his food and noticed a boy watching him. Messy brown hair, round glasses. When their eyes met, he immediately looked away, as if he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have. Atlas frowned, baffled, but didn't mind too much. That place was filled with weird people. One more didn't surprise him.

Chapter Text

Kids - Current Joys (2020)

—

Classes began on September 4th, on a cool and misty morning.
Laurent woke up at half past six, put on his clothes and got ready meticulously, buttoning his shirt with a precision that almost felt like a ritual. The first impression was what he was counting on, and he wasn’t going to leave it to chance.

On his way down to have breakfast, he checked his schedule several times, his fingers smoothing the folded paper as if it could reassure him. Despite the dull nausea that had settled in his stomach, he forced himself to swallow toast with jam. The sweetness stuck to his tongue, heavy, but he finished it anyway before stepping outside and walking to class.

He arrived early. The room was almost empty, the faint echo of his footsteps filling the quiet. Choosing a spot in the front row, far to the left, he sat down and let the leather strap of his satchel slide off his shoulder. The atmosphere was still, tinged with a shared, unspoken nervousness. He took a slow breath, feeling it expand in his chest. Everything was going to be fine.

Atlas opened his eyes abruptly and glanced at the table clock. 7:50.

«Fuck.»

He shot out of bed, yanking on the first clothes his hands found. In the bathroom, he splashed cold water over his face, rubbing it into his skin as if that alone could erase the exhaustion. He ran out of the dormitory, his bag thumping against his back, and reached the classroom just as the professor was doing roll call.

«Crane, Atlas?»

Silence.

Laurent lifted his head. He scanned the room automatically, but there was no sign of him. Odd. On the first day, everyone usually showed up.

The professor repeated the name twice, then sighed, pen hovering over the register to write absent.

The door burst open. Atlas stumbled inside, breathless, a flush high on his cheekbones.

«I’m here!» he panted. «I’m here!»

Every head turned toward him. Laurent’s too. And that was when the air shifted.

The name. The face.

It hit him all at once, like a gust of wind blowing open a window he thought was locked. His chest tightened. The floor seemed to tilt for an instant.

He wasn’t just some stranger with a pretty face. He was that Atlas Crane.

—

Laurent was small again, knees pulled to his chest on the shore of a pond. The water shivered under the touch of the wind, scattering the reflections of the clouds. His hands toyed absently with clumps of grass, tearing them up and letting the green threads drift between his fingers.

The light dimmed slightly as another figure sat beside him without a word.

«Why are you alone?»

Laurent turned his head. The boy’s hair was long and golden, catching the sunlight in strands that seemed almost white at the tips. His eyes, a bright and patient green, studied him with quiet curiosity.

«Nobody wants to play with me,» Laurent said after a pause. «They…they think I’m weird.»

The blond shrugged, lips curling into a small, decisive smirk.

«They’re just mean. I don’t like them either.» Then he smiled. That smile, the one that would stay carved in Laurent’s memory for years, stubborn and unchanging. «My name’s Atlas.»

«Laurent. But Laurie’s better.»

That afternoon stretched long and golden. They skimmed stones across the pond, Atlas showing him how to tilt his wrist, how to give the pebble that perfect sideways spin so it danced across the surface instead of sinking.

From then on, the pond became theirs. After school, they built forts from branches, whispered secrets under the big tree, shared stolen biscuits with the thrill of accomplices.

Until the day everything broke.

They were under that same tree, sitting cross-legged on the grass, the air around them filled with the faint hum of summer insects. Laurent leaned toward Atlas without thinking. He just did it. His lips brushed Atlas’s for the briefest moment–warm, uncertain, over almost before it began.

Atlas froze, his eyes widening. «Why…why did you do that?»

Laurent swallowed. «I–I don’t know.» Then, hesitantly, «Is it wrong?»

«I think so.» Atlas replied, lowering his gaze. «My dad wouldn’t like it. You’re a boy.»

Laurent frowned. «So what?»

«I’m a boy too. He says it’s not normal.»

The words sat heavy between them, dull and final. Laurent stared down at the grass, tracing circles in the dirt with a fingertip. He couldn’t understand what was so wrong about something that had felt so…simple.

The next day, Atlas didn’t show up to the pond. Neither the day after. The news spread quickly, but his name never came up. Everyone was only talking about Laurent. Which could mean only one thing: Atlas had told them. No one else, after all, knew what really happened.

By the end of the week, Laurent’s world had shrunk to four walls and a locked gate. His father’s fury had been sharp, his shame even worse. All that was left was a tense , heavy silence.

—

Laurent blinked hard, dragged back to the present where the professor was eyeing Atlas with mild irritation. «Try to be punctual next time. Now sit there. Front row.»

Atlas scanned the room and spotted the only empty seat–right next to Laurent. He walked over, golden hair a little messy, jaw sharper than before, eyes less open and far more guarded. Laurent’s pulse quickened. He shifted to the side, putting a fraction more space between them.

«Hi,» Atlas muttered, sliding into the seat.

Laurent didn’t answer right away, still caught up in his thoughts.

After a pause, Atlas mumbled, «Cool. A front-row nerd who gives the silent treatment.»

Laurent turned to him, his brows furrowed. «I was...I was just thinking.»

«Yeah, sure.» Atlas grinned with sarcasm.

He pulled a notebook from his bag and leaned back in the seat, pretending not to notice Laurent’s stolen glances.

Confusion? Anger? Resentment? It was hard to pin down which of the three filled Laurent most. But he knew one thing for certain–fate played a cruel trick on him. Out of all universities, out of all faculties, out of all classrooms...they were there, side by side.

Again.

—

Laurent spent the first week at the university relatively quietly. There wasn't much to study yet, but Atlas' presence was a constant distraction. He tried to convince himself that it was just a stupid coincidence, maybe someone with his same name. But the more he looked at him, the more certain he became. It was that Atlas. The way he moved, the way he always fixed his hair…there was no doubt.

Laurent watched him often–more than he should have–during class, in the Great Hall, in the hallways. Not because he was interested in him. Not at all. Just to figure out what kind of person he’d become. And after a few days, he had a pretty clear idea: arrogant, vain, unbearable. Perfect. There wasn’t any risk of bond between them.

Atlas, meanwhile, spent the week surrounded by Percy and his friends, who seemed more like his satellites than real people. Still, something else itched at him: Laurent’s glances. Too many to be accidental, too steady to be casual. He must have been a stalker, a maniac…or an over curious type. And Atlas didn’t like curious people.

That Tuesday, Laurent went to the library. He planned to review some modern philosophy topics, just to be prepared in advance. He had no idea Atlas would be there.

The latter entered briskly, with his usual listless air. He had to hand in an essay for the next day and, of course, he hadn't even opened his book. When he spotted Laurent, he almost turned away, until another thought sparked. That bookworm probably had the essay done already.

He took a few steps closer and leaned over the shelf. «Hey.»

Laurent turned his head. «…Yes?»

«You’ve already done the philosophy essay, right? The 900’s one?»

Laurent’s eyes narrowed. «I hope you're not asking me to copy it.»

«No, come on.» Atlas replied with a grimace. «Only sources you used. Like…books, or that kind of stuff.»

Without replying, Laurent pulled a book out of his bag and handed it to Atlas with a dry gesture. «Here you go. Good luck.»

He turned his attention back to the shelf ahead, as Atlas looked at the book with a doubtful expression. «It’s so thick. Are there even any pictures?»

Laurent’s voice stayed flat. «If you want shortcuts, you’re asking the wrong person.»

Atlas lifted an eyebrow. «Pretty rude.»

«And yet, you don’t look like you’re about to leave.»

A corner of Atlas’s mouth curved. «I will soon, don’t worry. Thanks for the book, though.»

He started to walk away, only to halt after a couple of steps. Turning back, he slipped a hand into his pocket.

«I almost forgot.»

He drew out a folded piece of paper and held it out to Laurent.

«What’s this?»

«Just an advice. See you soon, geek.»

And then he left, with that annoying grin plastered on his face. Laurent, puzzled, unfolded the paper. The handwriting was hasty, almost unreadable.

I know you’re stalking me. If you don’t stop, I’ll report you.

Laurent blinked and crumpled the note in his hands. «Idiot.»

Atlas came out of the library, clutching the shoulder strap of his bag. He couldn’t wait to jump on his bed and finally take a good nap–he had enough for that day. But just past the steps, a familiar voice stopped him.

«Crane! We were just talking about you.»

Atlas turned with a prepared smile. Percy, impeccable as ever in his blue jacket, looked at him with that tone somewhere between friendly and judgmental. Around him, George, Edward, and Aaron.

«I bet you were.» he answered, walking towards them. «What’s up?»

Percy grinned, arms crossed over his chest. «We were debating whether or not it’s possible to fall asleep with your eyes open. Edward swears he saw someone doing it in our Economic’s class this morning.»

«I’m sure it was James,» said George. «I saw him drooling on the desk.»

Atlas lifted a corner of his mouth, acting interested. «That’s impressive.»

Percy took a step towards him, pulling away from the wall he was leaning on. «You know…we’re meeting in the east common room tonight. There’ll be drinks, music…you can’t miss it.»

«I'd love to, but...I've got a really bad headache...so...» Atlas groaned, theatrically bringing a hand to his forehead.

Percy raised an eyebrow, his usual smile slowly disappearing from his face. It didn’t take a genius to understand that Atlas was bullshitting him. «...A headache? Come on, most first-years would kill to come.»

«I know. But I think I’ll pass for now.»

The rest of the group shared fleeting glances. It wasn't common for someone to turn down an invite to their parties with such an attitude. And Percy was someone who took rejection very personally.

«Fine.» he muttered with clenched teeth. «Get well soon, then.»

Atlas looked at him with a grin. «I will, thanks. Enjoy your drinks.»

As he walked away, he heard the boys whispering behind him. But Percy didn’t. He stood silent, watching him until he was gone, his hand clenched in a fist. A hint of irritation crossed his eyes, a silent reaction to the way Atlas carried himself, as if the whole place belonged to him. But Percy was there before.

Chapter Text

Take Me Out - Franz Ferdinand (2004)

—

Philosophy class that morning felt longer than usual. The professor’s voice rose and fell in a steady rhythm, almost hypnotic. A yawn escaped from somewhere at the back, as a pen rolled off a desk and clattered to the floor.

Laurent sat at his desk, head bent over his notes, repeatedly underlining the same sentence without noticing. Atlas, two rows away, tapped his fingers against his leg, eyes wandering toward the window where a pale light was entering through the glass.

Finally, the bell rang. The scrape of chairs, the shuffle of books into bags, a rush toward the door. Atlas got up fast, eager to leave.

«Mr Crane, just a moment.»

He turned slowly, a bad feeling growing in him. «Yes?»

«I need to talk to you and Mr Sinclaire.»

«...Who?»

The professor sighed and pointed behind him. Atlas followed the motion and immediately recognized the geek with glasses–the one he had mentally dubbed a stalker.

He snorted and approached him. Laurent was busy packing his bag, and when he looked up and met Atlas’ gaze, his eyes widened in sudden alarm.

«The professor wants to talk to us.»

Laurent opened his mouth. «What? Why?»

«I don’t know. Come on, hurry up.»

The chatter of students leaving faded, replaced by the low creak of the old wooden floor under their shoes. Side by side, Laurent and Atlas approached the teacher’s desk.

With a sharp gesture, the professor slammed two papers in front of them. «Care to explain?»

Laurent leaned ahead and squinted, trying to figure out what those sheets were. Their essays. A cold spike of dread ran through him. He opened his mouth, but Atlas cut in first.

«What do you want us to explain?»

«Don’t you dare answer me in that tone Mr, Crane.» The professor’s voice was stern, his eyes narrowing. Then, a sigh of bitterness escaped him. «Yesterday I was revising your essays, and I couldn’t help but notice some…similarities in your works.»

Laurent whitened and half-closed his mouth in shock. Getting accused of cheating was just the cherry on top of that mess. Before Atlas could make things worse with a defensive remark, he hurried to speak.

«There…there must have been a misunderstanding, professor. Mr Crane and I simply used the same book to collect the sources.»

«I’m sorry Mr Sinclaire, but I can’t be assured that you’re telling me the truth.» The professor returned. «Therefore, both of you will receive a penalty in the first term grade. And the Headmaster will be informed.»

A wave of panic swept through Laurent, as his heart pounded against his ribs. If his father found out…the thought alone made his stomach twist painfully.

He stayed still for a moment, his eyes fixed on the papers. Atlas, on the other hand, had already walked out the door, as if that wall of accusations hadn’t touched him at all. Laurent took a deep breath, deciding he couldn’t let him go like this. He had to do something. And perhaps, Atlas was his only chance.

He stormed out of the classroom, hurrying down the corridor to reach him. He stepped deliberately into Atlas’s path, standing like an immovable wall, his gaze fixed.

«Move.» Atlas said flatly.

«We’re being punished for nothing,» Laurent shot back, refusing to budge. «We can’t just–»

«I don’t care. It’s your problem, not mine.»

He brushed past him, but froze when Laurent’s voice dropped–quieter, heavier.

«If my father finds out, I’ll have to leave Glasgow. For good. Over something I didn’t even do.»

Atlas turned back slowly. Laurent looked down, his right hand clenched at the edge of his sleeve. Atlas tilted his head, his eyes narrowed, like he was trying to study him. He opened his mouth to reply, but Laurent preceded him.

«I need your help.»

Atlas frowned. «My help? And why the hell should I?»

«…I’ll get you anything you want.»

«Anything?» Atlas repeated, a small grin appearing on his face.

«Anything.»

He brought his forefinger to his chin, thoughtful. There wasn't much that geek could give him. Apart from–«Study. You’ll help me study. So that I’ll stop getting in trouble.»

Laurent stared at him, surprised. He’d have expected anything–his money, his soul–but no.

«Tutoring? Seriously?»

«Yeah.» Atlas held out his hand. «Since you can't seem to manage on your own...I'll help you. And in return, you'll turn me into a geek.»

Laurent sighed in dismay. «I guess I have no choice.» He shook his hand, then added, «Let's just…keep it as professional as possible.»

«I won't fall in love with you, if that's what you're worried about.»

Laurent’s stomach twisted, but his face stayed unreadable. He just swallowed and let the words pass.

The empty corridor stretched before them like a pause in the chaos, giving Laurent a moment to feel the weight of the situation. He told himself to stay distant, to keep his composure. Once he had repaid Atlas with the tutoring, it would all be behind him.

They hid behind a corner, breathing slowly and controlled. Atlas watched every move of the professor like a general surveying a battlefield, while Laurent, keeping his expression neutral, felt adrenaline prickling under his skin.

«So…what’s the plan?» he said, his voice low and steady.

Atlas pressed his lips together, thinking quietly. «We need Professor Davies to hand in something written. So that we can edit it.»

«And how exactly do you plan to get into the Headmaster’s office?»

«One of us distracts him, the other gets in. It’ll be easy.» Atlas replied confidently, as if he'd done it a thousand times before.

Laurent frowned, uncertain. «Isn't it a bit risky?»

«It is. But you don't seem to have better ideas.»

At that moment, the classroom's door opened and Professor Davies stepped out, holding two papers in his hands. Laurent and Atlas started following him from a distance, the corridor stretching long in front of them.

«He’s probably heading to the Headmaster’s office.»

Atlas raised an eyebrow. «How do you know?»

«I studied the map of the building.»

«Right. I shouldn’t even be surprised anymore.»

Once in front of the office, Professor Davies knocked at the door. The headmaster invited him in, but he politely declined, saying he was in a hurry.

«I just have a written communication for you, sir.» he said. «Two students cheated. I’ve already taken action.»

The headmaster merely nodded, uninterested. «Thanks, I’ll take a look at it. You may go now.»

Atlas waited for him to get in again, then turned to Laurent. «Perfect, now it’s our turn. We need something…like a decoy.» He looked around and noticed a window at the end of the corridor. That was just what they needed.

«Listen to me.» he whispered, pointing in front of them. «You have to go to that window over there and toss something out. A folder, a book–whatever. Then knock at his office and say someone has thrown some stuff from the second floor. He’ll certainly come out to see and, in that moment, I’ll get in.»

A hint of disbelief crossed Laurent's face. «How can such a thing work?»

«They used to do it at the boarding school I attended as a teen. Maybe it’s still a thing.» Then he put a hand on Laurent’s back and pushed him forward. «Come on, we have no time to waste.»

Laurent flinched, straightening abruptly. He walked to the window, uncertain, then turned to Atlas one last time, who gave him a curt nod. He hunched his shoulders, searching in his bag for something to throw. His heart raced, yet there was a thrill in the fear. He grabbed his latin book and dropped it to the ground with a loud thud, then rushed to knock on the office’s door.

«Sir!» he exclaimed, acting alarmed. «Some boys have just thrown some objects out the window! I saw them running away!»

The Headmaster stepped out, annoyed. «Again with these jokes?»

Atlas used the open door as a chance to sneak in unnoticed. He rummaged through the clutter on the desk and soon found Professor Davies' letter. He grabbed a clean sheet of paper and began to rewrite it, changing the names. Sweat trickled down his forehead and his hands trembled, but he successfully finished just in time. He hid the old letter in his trousers’ pocket and tiptoed out. He closed the door quietly, back turned to the hallway. As he spun around, he saw him.

The headmaster.

He stared at him, confused. «Excuse me...were you in my office?»

Atlas flashed a nervous smile. «Of course not! Why should I?» He looked around, searching for Laurent. That wimp had bolted. «You know what, sir? I’ve really got to go!»

He sprinted down the corridor, heart hammering, not daring to glance back. In an instant, a firm hand yanked at the back of his shirt, spinning him around. Darkness swallowed him for a second as he stumbled into someone.

«What the fuck–»

The light flicked on, revealing the cramped storage room. They collided, bodies pressed together in the tight space. Laurent’s chest heaved, but he kept his jaw set. He could feel Atlas’ rapid breaths, warm and shallow, mingling with his own, and heat crept up his neck.

Atlas flinched away. «What are you doing?!»

Laurent scrambled upright, his elbows digging into the floor, cheeks burning. «You don’t just–» He caught himself, swallowing the rest and trying to steady his voice. «Did…did you do it?»

Atlas nodded, running a hand over his forehead to wipe away the sweat. «He almost caught me. But, yeah…I did it.»

Laurent gave him a brief, measured nod. «Thank…thank you,» he said quietly, letting the words linger without adding more.

A grin tugged at Atlas’s lips. «Sorry, what did you say?»

«I said thank you.» Laurent’s voice was firmer this time, clipped. But then, his lips curved slightly, almost involuntarily. «And don’t act like you didn’t hear me.»

Atlas laughed as he stood up. The same laugh Laurent remembered all too well, ringing like a ghost from the past. His chest tightened for a heartbeat. He forced himself to blink and step back, grounding in the present.

Atlas held out a hand to help him up, but Laurent looked away, collecting himself. «No need.» He rose on his own, doing his best not to meet Atlas’ eyes. They unsettled him more than he wanted to admit.

Then, they both stepped out into the corridor. Laurent adjusted his collar, trying to hide the blush. Atlas turned to him, carrying his usual confidence.

«So, when does our tutoring start?»

Laurent hesitated. «...We have another essay to hand in next Monday. We can…do it together. Maybe without being accused of cheating.»

Atlas chuckled. «Alright. Meet me Friday at the library, four o’ clock.»

He turned, but then looked back right away. «Now that I think about it…I’ve been calling you “the geek stalker” all week. No idea if you even have a real name.»

Laurent bit the inside of his cheek, hesitant. «My name’s Laurent.»

He expected a reaction from Atlas–something, anything. But nothing. He just nodded and left, without a further word.

Laurent stood there, stunned. The sound of his own name still lingered in the air, unanswered. It hit him with a sudden clarity: he was the only one who remembered everything. To Atlas, he was nothing more than a stranger. But maybe...maybe it was for the better.

Chapter Text

I Can See You - Taylor Swift (2023)

—

The tea was now cold, but Elizabeth didn’t pay any attention. She was curled up in the armchair, gazing at the bare landscape outside the window.

«Have you heard about Clara McAlister’s engagement?» Her mother asked, without lifting her gaze from the magazine. «A lawyer, it seems. Her family must be very happy.»

Elizabeth nodded, but her mind was away. «Yes, Anne has mentioned it to me.»

Her mother slowly closed the magazine and glanced at her over her glasses. «You know, I talked to Mrs Crane just a few days ago. She told me Atlas started university.»

«I know.»

«I’d be perfect if you married him.» She added then, from nowhere. Any excuse was good to bring up that topic. «You’ve known each other for years. He’s from a good family, handsome, well-mannered–»

«I’ve already tried to tell him, Mum. But he won’t hear of it. And I’ve given up hope.»

Her mother sighed faintly. «He’ll change his mind, someday. You’d really be the perfect wife.»

Elizabeth lowered her gaze and tightened her dress’ sleeve between her fingers. She didn’t care about being Atlas’ perfect little wife. She just wanted him to like her for who she truly was.

Her mother stood up and grabbed the still full cup from the table. «We must think of a dress to wear at Clara’s wedding. Maybe a pink one? It’d suit you.»

Elizabeth shrugged. «You should choose.»

Her mother left the room, the faint click of the door muffled by the thick carpet. The house fell silent again, the kind of silence that made her thoughts louder than she wanted. Maybe she just had to give up. Atlas was never going to reciprocate her feelings, and she couldn’t spend her entire life chasing him. Outside, clouds were gathering over the garden, but somewhere else, far from that heavy quietness, the corridors were already filling with voices.

—

Right after lunch, Laurent left the Great Hall and headed for the garden. Along the corridor he came across Inès, who waved at him brightly. She turned to say goodbye to her friends and walked to him, a cheerful smile on her face.

«Hey! I was really hoping to see you,» she exclaimed. «here are you going?»

«Out in the garden. It’s sunny, and…I’ve found a quiet place to read.»

«Come on, I’ll walk you there.» she said, looping her arm with his. «So you can tell me how these first two weeks went.»

Laurent didn’t even try to resist. He knew it wouldn’t have worked with Inès. But he certainly couldn’t tell her everything—especially about his stunt with Atlas.

«All quiet, actually.» he answered vaguely. «Nothing exciting.»

«Met anyone interesting yet?»

His first thought was Atlas, of course. Someone very interesting. Perhaps more in a negative way than positive.

«Not really.»

«You will. It’s still early.» Inès reassured him. «What about your roommates?»

«They’re not…very sociable.» Laurent lied. He’d never even tried to talk to them. He was awful at social interactions, and was too afraid to mess up.

As they walked, Laurent’s eyes noticed a familiar figure moving on the opposite side of the hallway. Atlas. He was alone, both hands in his pockets and his head down. He seemed lost in his own thoughts. Then he looked up and their eyes met. It was brief, barely a second, but it felt longer to Laurent. Atlas raised his eyebrows in a silent “hey”, not breaking his stride.

Laurent’s throat went dry. He wanted to nod back, say something casual, but instead his gaze dropped almost instinctively, as if the contact had burned him. He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks, an annoying, telltale warmth he couldn’t control.

His steps faltered for a moment before he forced them steady again.

«Who was that?» Inès promptly asked, turning around.

«Oh–no one.»

«No one?» she echoed.

«It’s…it’s just a classmate.»

She didn’t press him any further. She’d known Laurent long enough to sense when to back off.

«You’ll meet someone, eventually.» she said lightly, changing the subject. «Don’t overthink it.»

A few steps beyond, they ran into a tall red-headed boy. Inès suddenly stiffened. She looked around for a way out, but it was too late to change direction.

«Oh, Inès.» The boy said, barely glancing at Laurent.

«Hi, Percy.» She replied, her voice impassive.

«Got a minute?»

Inès tensed up even more. «I was walking Laurent to the garden, actually–»

«It doesn’t matter.» he interrupted her. «It’s not much further, I can go on my own.»

Inès turned towards him, her eyes wide. Clearly he hadn’t understood a damn thing. But now he couldn’t take those words back anymore.

«Alright…see you later.» she said, reluctantly.

When Laurent was far enough away, she directed to Percy.

«What do you want?»

«Who was that?» he asked, ignoring her question. «Your new flame?»

«He’s my cousin.» Inès replied, dry.

«Ah.» Percy seemed surprised, but he didn’t flinch. «Listen, I wanted to ask you something.»

«Let’s hear it.»

He lowered his gaze, with a hesitant air that wasn’t his usual at all. «Are…are you busy this Saturday night? We could go out. Get some food, have a talk–»

«Percy.»

«What? It’s not that absurd.»

She looked at him from below, sternly. «Yes, it is. And you know it very well.» She paused. «What was between us is over. And it won’t return.»

«What if I didn't want it to be over?» he retorted, almost whining.

«Well, I do.» Inès concluded, her tone firm. «And I think that’s enough.»

She turned away, but Percy grabbed her wrist. «I’ve changed. I swear. It’ll work this time.»

Inès stared into his eyes for a moment, then flinched with a sharp movement. «No, Percy. Seriously. Just give it up.»

Percy stood still and looked at her as she sprinted down the corridor. Her step was steady, but her legs trembled beneath her skirt. She didn’t slow down until she turned a corner, out of his sight.

Not all people were meant to be together–and Percy and her were one of them. The year before, they’d rushed into a relationship, too young and too reckless, and it had ended badly enough to leave scars. Why repeat the same mistakes when you could just…walk away? The thought followed her like a shadow for the rest of the day. By the next morning, it still clung to the air when the first students began filling the lecture hall.

—

It was almost eight a.m., and the campus was already buzzing with the low hum of voices and hurried footsteps. Atlas, for once, was miraculously early to class.

He was walking to the back of the lecture hall, but suddenly froze. His gaze fell on Laurent’s usual seat, which was still empty. After a brief hesitation, he put down his bag and sat down beside it. That day was shaping up to be too boring. What better way to improve it if not by tormenting someone?

Laurent arrived a few minutes after, and saw Atlas sitting there as he was waiting for him. His body froze and his heart tightened. What the hell was he doing there?  He sighed, resigned, and reached him.

«Why are you here? I thought you hated the front row.»

«I do.»

«You could’ve left me alone, then.» Laurent muttered, dropping into the bench.

Atlas had his arms crossed over his chest and looked at him sideways, as if he were trying to figure him out. Laurent noticed it and turned.

«What?»

«Oh–nothing.» Atlas replied calmly, but then added, almost teasingly, «It’s just…Are you usually this grumpy with everyone, or am I special?»

Laurent stiffened slightly, caught off guard. His lips parted, but he didn’t speak.

Something in Atlas’s gaze was steady, almost curious, and Laurent’s chest tightened under the weight of it. He was the first to look away, his ears burning as if the room had suddenly grown warmer. He pulled his books out of his bag, pretending to be busy. When he looked up again, he saw that Atlas had stretched his legs out on the desk, slouched as if he owned the place.

«You really have to, do you?»

Atlas nodded. «Being amazing like me is exhausting. I often need some rest.»

Laurent just rolled his eyes without replying. When he realized he was smiling to himself, he hurried to recompose his expression. There was no need to give any satisfaction to that idiot.

Even though some of his remarks were actually funny. And that made it all the more difficult to maintain the distance he intended.

Chapter Text

I’m A Fool To Want You - Frank Sinatra (1951)

—

That afternoon Laurent went back to the oak tree, which was now his favourite place to read. The sun was dim and the breeze brushed his skin as he walked through the garden.
But when he reached the tree, he saw someone was already there.

A girl sat crossed-legged on the grass, her head bent over a book. Laurent coughed to get her attention. She jerked her head up, visibly scared. Her face was tiny and her brown hair fell just above her shoulders. A strand covered part of her face, but her green eyes still showed.

«Hi.» he said, hinting a smile.

«Oh...hi...» she murmured. «Sorry, I…I didn’t mean to take your spot. I’ll leave.» She stood up, avoiding eye contact.

«No, it’s fine. You can stay.»

She seemed genuinely revealed, as if she wasn’t used to that kindness. Laurent sat beside her, grabbed his book and started reading. The silence between them wasn’t tense or awkward. Just calm, still.

«I didn’t think anyone else came here.» Laurent said softly.

«Neither did I. But it’s…nice. Peaceful.»

He glanced at her. «My…my name is Laurent. People always mispronounce it.»

The girl curved her lips. «Matilda.»

Laurent returned the smile, then lowered his eyes back to his book, the Karamazov Brothers. He read a few lines., though he found himself more aware of the quiet presence beside him than of the words. In a certain way, Matilda reminded him of himself. Shy, hesitant. Not used to being seen.

«What are you reading?» he asked, glancing at the cover.

She held it up. «To the Lighthouse. Virginia Woolf.»

«Oh–good choice. Do you like English literature?»

Matilda shrugged. «I read whatever I come across. My taste is pretty varied. You?» She tilted her head toward his book.
«Dostoevskij?»

Laurent nodded. «Yeah. This is my third time reading it.»

«Wow. I’d read more Russian stuff too, if it weren’t for the billion names. I always lose track halfway through.»

He chuckled. «I can give you a few beginner-friendly suggestions, if you want.»

Matilda’s expression softened. «That...would be nice. Thanks.»

«Anytime.»

They sat together until the afternoon light shifted and the breeze cooled. When Laurent finally stood, he realised it had been a long time since he’d felt so at ease around someone new. He walked back toward the building with the faintest trace of a smile.

—

The next morning, that same easy feeling lingered in him. He thought about Matilda as he stepped into the classroom, until his eyes landed on Atlas, already sprawled out in his seat with a book in hand. The contrast between the two presences couldn’t have been sharper.

He approached reluctantly and sat beside him. «Is this going to be a regular thing now?»

Atlas didn’t even glance at him. «You should feel honoured. These are not privileges for everyone.»

A few moments later, Matilda entered the room. She headed towards them, but as soon as she spotted Atlas, she hesitated. Her expression was a mix of disappointment and uncertainty. Laurent shook his head, almost imperceptibly. He’d explain everything later. She gave a faint nod and took a seat a few rows away.

Atlas finally lifted his eyes. «Who’s that? Your girlfriend?»

Laurent wrinkled his nose. «What? No. Of course not.»

Atlas blinked, surprised. «You should take it as a compliment. For a moment, I actually thought someone might be into you.»

Laurent kept his gaze on his notes, refusing to bite. But something was tickling his tongue, and before he could stop himself, the words slipped out.

«Strange you don’t have a girlfriend yourself. If you looked around, you’d probably have three by now. They’re all drooling over you.»

His tone sounded much sharper than he’d meant.

Atlas leaned in with a mocking smile. «Even stranger that you noticed.»

Laurent looked down immediately, his pulse quickening. The professor entered, finally putting an end to that torture. They didn’t talk during the lesson, but Laurent still found it hard to concentrate. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the constant fidgeting of Atlas’ leg, or the way his cologne filled his nostrils.

When the bell rang, he hurried to get up. «Remember. Tomorrow at 4 o’ clock, library.»

Atlas paused. «Ugh, right. I forgot.»

«Doesn’t surprise me.»

«It cannot be delayed, right?»

Laurent shot him a withering stare. «No.» he said curtly. «See you tomorrow, Atlas.»

Atlas sighed as he watched him walk away with Matilda. Sometimes that geek was even more insufferable than him.

—

The next day, Laurent was already sitting at the usual table when Atlas arrived, five minutes late.

«Four and six minutes.» he said, tapping on his wristwatch.

Atlas dropped his bag and sat down opposite him. «You should thank God I came.»

«Well, you’re the one who needs tutoring.»

He looked down at his book, but shortly after he noticed that Atlas wasn’t doing any work at all.

«What are you waiting for?»

«Oh–I forgot my stuff in the dormitory.» he replied casually. «I can go get it–»

«Forget it. We’re already late.» Laurent sighed. «We...we’ll share mine.»

He grabbed his bag and handed it to him. «Here. Take some sheets.»

Atlas started rummaging through his stuff as if it were his own, expecting to find something interesting. But all he pulled out was one of his books.

«The Karamazov Brothers?»

Laurent raised his head sharply, his left eyebrow lifted. «Do you know it?»

«Come on, do you really think I’m that ignorant?» he retorted, almost offended.

Laurent chuckled. «I thought you only read books with pictures. What’s your favourite author?»

«Oscar Wilde. He says what everyone thinks but doesn’t dare to voice. And with style.»

Laurent found himself smiling without even realizing. «That’s cool.»

«You?»

«Dostoevskij.»

Atlas nodded, not overly surprised. «Light, I’d say.»

Laurent laughed softly as he stood up, diving into the shelves to look for a book.

Perhaps for the first time since they’d met, they had a conversation without insults. Atlas even asked him who his favourite author was. He sat there and listened to his answer. Laurent shook his head, trying to pull himself together. He couldn’t even stand him. He was arrogant, annoying, overly confident. Yet every time they were close, something stirred inside him.

Atlas, still sitting at the table, ran a hand through his hair. His gaze was fixed on the book he'd snatched from Laurent, but his mind couldn't focus on the words. Why did he ask him who his favourite author was? It wasn’t like he cared. He had only wanted to tease him, to make some ironic remark about Dostoevskij or whatever heavy Russian novel Laurent was reading. But he hadn’t. The joke never came. Now he was left staring at a page he couldn’t read, in a silence that felt strangely irritating.

When Laurent returned with the book he needed, he saw him flipping through his own.

«Come sit here.» Atlas said casually. «There’s only one book.»

«And whose fault is that...» Laurent muttered, too quietly to be heard. He hesitated just a second too long before sitting down, being careful not to touch him. It wasn’t easy, considering how close they were.

They worked in silence for a while, or at least Laurent did. Atlas mostly stared at his paper and occasionally scribbled something incomprehensible. Laurent sometimes glanced up at him, trying not to let him notice. The way he held the pencil between his fingers, the concentration with which he bit his lip while thinking, his blond hair falling over his face–

«Aren't you going to help me?» he suddenly complained, throwing his pen down on the table. «You're supposed to be my tutor.»

Laurent jumped, snapping out of his thoughts. He sighed, grabbed his paper and read it. «It's not...terrible.» he said then, unsure. «But there are a few things you could improve. For example, here…»

Atlas leaned closer as Laurent circled words, underlined and crossed out sentences, wrote small notes in the margins of the paper. He explained why certain words sounded out of place, and how to use more effective ones. Atlas nodded silently, letting him do it.

«Try rewriting it now.» Laurent said, sliding the paper towards him.

Atlas leaned closer to grab the paper, and their knees brushed under the table.

Laurent froze. The touch was brief, accidental, yet it sent an uninvited rush through his chest. His breath faltered. The sound of the library seemed to fade, replaced by the thump of his own heartbeat.

He didn’t move right away. Part of him hoped Atlas hadn’t noticed. But the warmth lingered, a stubborn ghost against his skin, and it was suddenly unbearable to stay that close.

He pulled his leg back, trying to look absorbed in the book, though the words blurred in front of him. His pulse was too loud, his chest too tight.

Without fully deciding to, he pushed back his chair and stood, his hand curling into a fist by his side.

Atlas looked up, confused. «What?»

«I have...I have to go to the bathroom.»

He walked quickly away, leaving the library. Atlas followed him with his gaze for a moment, then continued writing his essay.

The corridor outside was cooler, quieter, but not enough to steady him. Each step felt heavy, like walking through snow.
In the bathroom, he gripped the sink and let the cold tap run, the hiss of the water swallowing the last sounds of the library.

He closed his eyes and tried to breathe, but his mind was already back there. Twelve years before. His father’s hand raised above him, his harsh echoing: what's wrong with you? What's wrong with you? WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?

The words slammed into him like blows, the old fear rising as if no time had passed. He fled to Glasgow hoping to finally leave his trauma behind...but no. He was stuck in it again. And he couldn't fully move on if he kept dealing with Atlas.

He splashed water onto his face, shivering, his reflection a blur in the mirror.

He had to pull himself together. And fast.

He slowly walked back to the library, his legs unsteady. When Atlas saw him enter, he stood up and reached him.

«I'm done with the essay.» Then he tilted his head. «Are you okay?»

Laurent forced a smile. «I'm fine. I just...I need some rest. See you.»

Atlas watched him walk away, his eyebrows furrowed. He was weird. There was a tension in his movements, in the way his shoulders stiffened the second their knees touched. Whatever it was, it bothered him. Because he couldn't understand it. He only knew that Laurent was definitely leaving something out. Something he wanted to hide.

Chapter Text

Bloom - The Paper Kites (2013)

--

Laurent was sitting in the dining room, fork clutched in his right hand, his gaze fixed on the table opposite, towards Atlas. He was surrounded by a group of students with whom he was talking and laughing effortlessly. It was always like that with him: people gravitated to him, attracted by his personality and appearance. And this burned something in Laurent's chest. He wasn't sure if it was jealousy. Maybe it was just resentment towards those who could be close to him without fear, without confusion.

«Hey.»

Laurent jumped. Matilda was sitting in front of him, looking at him with a half-smile.

«Oh–hi.»

She tilted her head. «Are you okay? You look pensive.»

«I'm fine.» He rummaged through his bag and handed her a book, hoping to distract her attention from himself. «I brought you this book you can start with.»

Matilda smiled, glancing at the cover. «Thank you. We could meet today in the common room and spend some time, you know… reading together.»

Laurent nodded. «Sounds great. I'm in.»

Perhaps spending time with Matilda was just what he needed to stop thinking about Atlas. He had to get him out of his head as soon as possible. The soft hum of conversation around him, the clinking of cutlery, even the distant rumble of a passing carriage outside the window–all of it seemed to fade into the background.

—

Atlas, on the other hand, had noticed something was off. Laurent hadn’t looked him in the eye all morning and hadn’t sat next to him in class, as he had done the past few days. He kept his distance, his words colder, more careful. Though he pretended not to care, laughing with his usual friends, acting as if nothing had changed, a part of him kept replaying their last conversations in his head. Had he said something wrong? Maybe he’d pushed too hard. Or maybe Laurent was just being his usual moody self. Still, the change bothered him more than he was willing to admit.

That afternoon, however, he had more important things to think about. He received a letter from Elizabeth a few days earlier, asking to see him, so they had arranged a meeting at a café not far from the University.

Elizabeth was sitting at a table in the corner of the room, her hands clasped together and her heart beating wildly. She'd thought about it for days before taking that decision, realizing there was no other way.

Atlas arrived ten minutes late and sat down in front of her in a hurried manner.

«Hi. How are you?»

«I'm fine.» she answered, sipping her tea from the cup. «You? University?»

He shrugged. «Boring lessons, annoying teachers, weird people. Not different from what I expected.» He sighed, leaning back in his chair. «So? Why did you ask to see me?»

Elizabeth lowered her eyes. «Well, I…I've been thinking about our marriage.»

«Elizabeth–»

«Please, let me finish.» She silenced him, resolute. «I'm not going to beg you to marry me. Actually, I've thought about it a lot and...we should just give it all up. I mean, we...we don't even love each other. We'd just end up spending our lives unhappy and miserable. And that's not what I want, Atlas.»

He stared at her, stunned. A long silence fell, broken only by the sound of raindrops hitting the ground. Part of him had always assumed she'd never let go. And now that she was doing it, it felt both strange and…relieving.

«I'm...I'm glad you realised that.» he murmured. «It's the best thing we can do. And it's even greater to hear it from you.»

Elizabeth faintly nodded. «It wasn't easy. You well know how I feel about you. But...it just can't work.»

Atlas glanced briefly out of the window. The rain was picking up. People outside were rushing under umbrellas, shoulders hunched.

He pressed his fingers to the cup, now lukewarm.

«Have you already thought of how to tell your parents?»

«No, I haven't. That's the problem. They won't take it well, especially my father.»

He looked at her again. For a moment, he hesitated. He wasn’t used to getting involved in things that weren’t strictly his problem. But this was different. After everything, he owed her at least that.

«I…I can help you, if you want.»

Elizabeth blinked, surprised. «What? You?»

«It concerns both of us, doesn’t it?» he said, his voice lower now. «I can’t just wash my hands of it like that.»

There was a pause, then she smiled. One of those smiles that weren’t forced or polite, but real, honest.

«I…I didn’t expect this, but…thank you so much, Atlas.»

He smiled back, this time a little awkwardly. He didn’t really know why he was doing it. Maybe it was guilt, or affection. Maybe he was just starting to care again, in ways he hadn’t allowed himself for a long time.

They left the café, stepping under the small awning at the entrance. The rain fell harder now, drumming rhythmically on the metal roof. Atlas glanced at his wristwatch.

«It's getting late. I have to go. Write to me if there’s any news.»

Elizabeth nodded. «I will. Goodbye, Atlas.»

They shared a brief smile and went separate ways. Elizabeth walked along the wet pavement, hair and clothes damp, heart strangely light.

Her heart was lighter, finally free of such a heavy burden. She was happy that Atlas was going to help her, but at the same time sad to have permanently let him go. But it was the right thing to do, and she knew it.

After a few more steps, a large black dog trotted toward her, sniffing curiously at her coat. Elizabeth bent down with a small smile and gently stroked its head.

«Hey there…are you all alone?»

She glanced around, but no one seemed to be nearby. A few seconds later, however, a voice echoed from down the street.

«Bailey! There you are, you little troublemaker!»

A young man came running towards them, clearly out of breath. He bent forward, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. When he finally looked up, his eyes landed on Elizabeth.

For a moment, he forgot what he was supposed to say. His mouth was slightly open, his gaze fixed on her as if time had stopped. Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably, unsure of why he was staring at her so intently. He had short dark hair, a striking expression, and a strong nose that suited his face. His clothes were simple and a bit worn: an oversized flannel shirt, worn-out boots, and trousers with a tear at the hem.

Bailey ran back to him, tail wagging excitedly. The boy blinked, as if snapping out of a trance, and walked over to Elizabeth.

«Come under the umbrella,» he said, holding it out toward her. «You’ll catch a cold like that.»

She hesitated, then gave him a shy smile. «Thanks…»

«Sorry about him,» the boy said, nodding toward the dog. «He saw a cat and took off. I’ve been chasing him for ages, you kind of saved the day.»

«It’s okay.» Elizabeth replied, crouching down again to pet Bailey as he leaned against her legs.

«He clearly likes you,» the guy commented, a bit breathless. «I’m Elliot, by the way.»

«Elizabeth.»

They exchanged a smile. Then, noticing the faint puffiness around her eyes and the dampness of her cheeks, Elliot frowned slightly. Maybe it was just the rain, or maybe she had been crying. Either way, he didn’t want to meddle.

«So…no umbrella?» he asked.

Elizabeth shook her head with a small laugh. «I’m not from here. I didn’t know it’d rain this much.»

«Where are you from?»

«Paisley.»

«Ah,» he nodded. «I know the area. I pass by there almost every day.»

Elizabeth looked at her watch. «I'm sorry, I should go. My father’s probably waiting for me.»

«Wait,» Elliot said quickly. «Take this.» He pressed the umbrella into her hand. «It’s coming down hard.»

«But what about you?»

He shrugged. «I’ll survive. Besides, you’ll need it more than I do.»

She hesitated, but his expression left no room for refusal. She took it gently.

«Thank you…I’ll find a way to return it.»

«I’m usually at Johnson’s Garage, just outside the city centre. Ask anyone, they’ll point you there.»

«I will.»

«I hope I get to see you again, Elizabeth.»

She gave him a small smile, then bent down one last time to pet Bailey before walking away.

As she approached her father's car, waiting just around the corner, she couldn’t help thinking about what had just happened. After everything with Atlas, it felt strange, almost disarming, to receive such kindness from a complete stranger. She hadn’t done anything to deserve it. And yet, Elliot had gotten soaked himself just so she wouldn’t.

Meanwhile, he remained on the sidewalk, watching her go. Then he turned to Bailey and murmured, «You’ve officially earned a special snack for tonight.»

Chapter Text

Tongue Tied - GROUPLOVE (2011)

--

The weekend went by without Laurent and Atlas exchanging a single word. Laurent tried to keep himself busy studying at the library, reading under the oak with Matilda...but Atlas won't leave his mind. A couple of times he noticed him in the distance and instinctively changed direction. And each time, a small knot tightened in his stomach. But by now he'd promised himself he wouldn't get close to him again.

That Wednesday afternoon, the library was unusually crowded. Laurent was there with Inès, looking for a poetry book.

«It should be there.» she said, pointing in front of them. «You go. I'll check the other section.»

Laurent nodded and walked down the lane, until he ran into the last person he wanted to see.

Atlas.

His stomach twisted as he saw him leaning casually against the shelf. His hands trembled slightly around the book he held, and he forced himself to breathe evenly. Each step felt heavy, as if the floor itself wanted him to stop.

«Looking for something?» Atlas asked, not bothering to meet his eyes.

«Just...a poetry book.»

Atlas glanced at the section above them. «Crime & Mystery? Odd choice.»

Laurent flushed. «I—I thought it might fit.»

Atlas gave a small, impatient sigh. «We have a test next week. You're still helping me study, right?»

Laurent hesitated. «Next week? I'm not sure—»

«Laurent.» Atlas's clipped tone made Laurent freeze. Hearing him say his name sent a shiver down his spine. It shouldn't have. Not now.

«What?»

«Don't avoid me. It's annoying.»

Laurent opened his mouth, then closed it. «I'm not...avoiding you. Just busy.»

Atlas didn't believe a word of it. And he hated how much that bothered him.

«Busy?» he raised an eyebrow. «Seems like you've got time for everything else.»

Laurent's throat tightened. He didn't argue.

Atlas shook his head. «Look, I don't know what your problem is, but I'm not here to waste my time.»

«Atlas, I—»

«Forget it.» He turned on his heel, leaving Laurent standing there.

In the meantime, a few sections away, something else was going on between Percy and Inès. She was on tiptoe and was trying to grab a book on the shelf, but it was too high to reach it.

«Do you need any help?» Percy asked, crossing his arms with a smirk.

«From you? Absolutely not.» she retorted, sharp. «I can do it perfectly on my own.»

She stretched her arm up, but the book was still too far and there was no sight of the ladder. Percy laughed softly, approaching her.

«Come on, leave it to me.»

He stood in front of her, who was now stuck between him and the shelf, and reached out to grab the book. She held her breath, her heart racing. Why did being close to him still have that effect on her? It shouldn't.

Percy finally grabbed the book and handed it to her. «Here you go.»

She stepped back, clearing her throat awkwardly. «Thank you.» Then she recomposed herself and cast him a stern glance. «Are you still here?»

Percy half-smiled. «I was just wondering if you'd changed your mind about our night out.»

Inès let out an unbelieving snort. «Absolutely not. And I never will.»

But as she said it, a small voice in her head kept telling her how ridiculous she was being.

«See you, Percy.» She cut him off, then turned and walked away before he could reply. No matter what, she couldn't give in. There was a reason why they broke up the first time, wasn't there?

—

That evening, Atlas joined Percy and the others in the common room, just to blend in. But his mind wasn't really there. He kept thinking that maybe he'd been too hard on Laurent. Maybe he was distant because he was going through something serious. There had to be something more to it than just "I'm really busy." Normally, in a situation like this, he would have just said: "Too bad for him," but in that case he just couldn't.

«Atlas!» Percy nudged him. «You still with us?»

«Huh? Yeah, sorry.» he muttered. «What did I miss?»

«I think I made progress with Inès today.»

Atlas didn't buy it. «Oh—really?»

«Sorry to bring you back to reality, mate,» George intervened. «but she doesn't seem very interested.»

Percy ignored him. «I need a plan to get her back.»

And so the debate began. George suggested acting distant, but Edward disagreed. That's when Atlas joined the conversation.

«You have no idea what you're talking about, guys.»

George raised an eyebrow, annoyed. «Oh, and you do?»

Atlas smirked. «Of course I do. I've been with more women than you ever saw in your life. You have to treat them well. Make them feel special. Then they'll want you.»

«That doesn't mean that—»

«Atlas is right.» Percy declared. «Inès isn't an easy girl. These stupid tricks wouldn't work.» Then he turned to Atlas. «I have an idea. But I'll need your cooperation.»

They reached the corridor in front of the women's dormitories, and when they saw Inès chatting with two friends, they quickly hid behind the corner.

«Are you sure about this?» Atlas whispered. «Aren't you being a little too pushy?»

«Trust me.» Percy replied confidently. «I know her. I've got it covered.»

«Alright. It's your funeral.»

Percy sighed and gave him a look, looking for strength. «Wish me luck.»

He emerged from his hiding place, a little uncertain, and approached Inès. She stopped immediately and her expression dropped. Definitely not a good start.

She turned to her friends, who took the hint and walked off. She crossed her arms. «What is it now?»

«I know you don't want to get back with me.» Percy said. «But I'm asking you for another chance. Just one.»

«Percy—»

«I really believe it could work this time. I've changed.»

Inès's gaze softened almost imperceptibly, then Percy gently grabbed her hand. She stiffened, but didn't pull away.

«What if it ends like the first time? I don't think I could go through that again.»

«Then we'll make sure it doesn't.» he insisted. «And even if it did...at least we'd tried. I'd rather have a few months with you than none at all.»

Inès sighed. «Do you have any idea how hard this is for me?»

«Yes. And I'm sorry to put you in this position. But...I can't help it, really.»

She fell silent for a moment, then said: «Alright. If you really care that much, I have a deal for you.»

Percy frowned.

«You have one month to convince me to take you back. You can take me out, bring me flowers...whatever you want. But if you fail, you leave me alone forever.»

He smirked. «But what if I succeeded?»

«I doubt it. Don't get your hopes up too high.»

«Fine.» Percy said, satisfied. «I've got until October 21st. That's enough.»

«Saturday night,« she added, half turning away. «Seven o' clock. Take me to dinner somewhere decent.»

Percy nodded. «You can bet on it. I already know you'll be beautiful.»

Inès let out a half-smile. «You shouldn't even question it.»

She walked away, and Percy turned to Atlas with a triumphant grin and a raised thumb. Atlas returned it with a slight smile, still half in disbelief. For a moment, he was happy for him, until he remembered that he'd just lost his bet to Aaron.

Chapter Text

During that grey afternoon, Laurent and Matilda were sitting together on a couch in the west common room. She had her knees pulled up, a book in her hands, while Laurent was hunched over a paper, scribbling something.

«How's the assignment going? Need help?» she asked, leaning towards him.

«I'm almost done.» he replied. «Thanks, though.»

A moment later, the door opened and a group of boys entered, laughing loudly. Laurent turned out of instinct, and his gaze locked with Atlas'. It lasted barely a second, but his stomach twisted. He looked away immediately, cheeks flushing. Atlas did the same, his expression unreadable.

The group left soon after, leaving the room quiet again. Then Laurent glanced at Matilda and spoke in a low voice.

«Can I ask you something?»

She set her book down, curious. «Sure.»

«Okay...imagine you're a little into someone. Not really in love, just...drawn to them.»

«Alright.» she said, her brows furrowed.

«But for some reason, being close to them feels dangerous. Like it could hurt you.»

Matilda's smile faded a little. «And what would you want to do?»

Laurent hesitated. «Logically, I think I should stay away. But another part of me wants the opposite.»

She was quiet for a moment, then nodded slowly. «I get that. It's a pretty common feeling. You know...sometimes pushing people away doesn't make you feel safer. Just lonelier.» She smiled bitterly. «I learned that the hard way.»

Laurent didn't reply, but his shoulders relaxed slightly.

«Still,» she added. «I think it depends. On whether that person's worth the risk.»

He gave her a small but grateful smile. «Yeah, that makes sense. Thank you.»

She smiled back. «And this person...do I know her?»

«...I don't think so.» Laurent replied, his face more serious.

Matilda nodded and let it go, her gaze returning to the page she was reading. She wasn't sure why, but she was surprised. She'd never imagined Laurent falling in love with anyone before. Not because it bothered her, or anything. But finally she felt she'd found a friend, and she didn't want to lose him because of someone else.

—

The next day, in class, Laurent sat beside Matilda as he had always done recently. Atlas was across the room, chatting with one of his roommates.

Midway through the lesson, the professor announced an upcoming assignment to be done in pairs. Laurent stiffened, praying not to end up with him.

«Ugh, I hate group work.» Matilda muttered.

«Same.» Laurent replied, biting his lip. «Hopefully we can pick.»

But, of course, they couldn't. At the end of the lesson, the professor pulled out a sheet of paper and started reading the names aloud.

«Laurent Sinclaire...»

He held his breath, anxious.

«...and Atlas Crane.»

Laurent's mouth fell open. No way.

Atlas smiled proudly. Everything just went according to his plan, and the professor accepted his request. He didn't do it for the grade. He just didn't like being ignored. And if Laurent thought he could shut him out, well...he was clearly wrong, and Atlas intended to prove it to him. He was the one who decided when someone got tired of him, not the other way around.

He turned to Laurent with a smug grin. The latter gave him a short, dry laugh and looked away.

A few minutes later, as the students were filing out, Laurent felt a hand on his shoulder.

«Library. Tomorrow at three.» said Atlas' unmistakable voice.

«Yeah...» Laurent mumbled in response, without looking at him.

When Atlas walked off, Matilda nudged him. «That's your partner? You're lucky...he's so hot.»

Laurent sighed. «Don't even start.»

—

The next day, Laurent reached the library a few minutes early, but Atlas showed up about ten minutes late.

As he approached, Laurent cleared his throat, slightly irritated. «At a good time.»

«I had better things to do.» Atlas replied. «You know, I've been incredibly busy these days.»

Laurent raised his eyebrows, incredulous. «Woah, still offended?»

Atlas laughed harshly. «Me? Offended? Come on.»

Without another word, he walked past him and went inside. Laurent followed him from a distance and when he reached the table, Atlas was already seated.

«In a rush?»

«Just efficient.» Atlas replied. «Let's get started.»

Laurent sat down. «Alright. I'll go find some resources—»

«No need.» Atlas pulled out two books from his bag. «Already got them.»

Laurent blinked. «...Thanks.» he murmured, caught off guard by the gesture.

Silently, they began to do their respective tasks, flipping pages and writing notes. At first, Laurent kept his focus on the textbook, but eventually, his thoughts drifted. That quiet tension between them grew unbearable, and Laurent wasn't sure how much longer he could pretend he didn't notice.

Suddenly, Atlas spoke.

«Strange coincidence, uh? Together again.» he said with a touch of bitterness, as if he expected Laurent to say something. «I'll bet you're happy about that...»

«Unfortunately, I didn't choose the groups.» Laurent replied, trying to keep his tone even. «So here we are.»

Atlas raised one corner of his mouth. Laurent was clearly trying to keep him at arm's length.

«Are you planning to work alone all the time, or...?»

Laurent sighed. «Yeah, you're right. We should work on the comparison together.»

«About that...» Atlas muttered, «I'm not great at this. Organizing information and all.»

Laurent hesitated before answering. «I..I can help you.»

Atlas half-smiled. «That'd be nice. Thanks.»

Laurent leaned towards him, pointing to a paragraph with his pencil. He started explaining some tricks he could use to better organise the information, and occasionally glanced at him to make sure he was paying attention. Atlas tried to concentrate, but his gaze kept falling on Laurent. There was something nervous, guarded, elusive about him...something that intrigued him like a riddle to be solved. But Atlas told himself it was just curiosity.

«Do you get it?»

Atlas blinked. «Oh, yeah...thank you.»

Laurent smiled faintly. «No problem.»

They both went back to work, occasionally sharing help or advice. Laurent reached out to grab a blank sheet of paper, without looking up from his book, and his hand touched Atlas's.

«Oh—sorry.» he muttered, instantly pulling it back.

Atlas handed him one of the sheets. «You always act like I'm going to bite.»

«Do I?»

«All the time.»

Laurent flushed and laughed awkwardly. «Well, I...I'm terrified of everyone. Not just you.»

Atlas shook his head, then went back to work. After a while, he announced that he was done with his part.

«Already?» Laurent asked, surprised.

Atlas stood up and handed him the paper. «Better take a look at it.»

Laurent read it carefully while he was in the bathroom. With every line, he wondered if he had really written it himself.

«It's good, actually.» he said, returning it to him. «If you tried a little harder, you could be at the top of the class.»

«You sound like my mother.» Atlas replied with a grimace.

«She must be a wise woman, then.»

He shot him a withering glance. «Please.»

They picked up their stuff and agreed to meet again the next day, so they could finish the last part left. Once outside the library, Atlas reached out his hand to Laurent.

«Good work today.» he said. «Told you I'm an excellent partner.»

Laurent hesitated, then shook his hand. «Less annoying than usual.»

«I'll fix that next time.»

Laurent lingered on his face for a moment longer than usual. He hadn't noticed before, but when Atlas smiled like that, his left dimple showed.

«So...» he began, uncertain, «Are you still too busy for tutoring?»

Atlas looked at him crookedly. «Oh, now you want me back on your schedule?»

Laurent hurried. «Just sticking to our deal. That's all.»

«Hm...alright. I'll let you know when I'm free.»

Laurent waved goodbye and watched him walk away. Then he let out a relieved breath. This was reckless. Maybe even foolish. But for once, he let himself stop thinking, and just feel. He didn't regret it. Not yet.

—

September was drawing to a close, and the sunshine had given way to rain and the chill of autumn. That Friday morning, Elizabeth paused at the door to glance in the mirror. Her hair was loosely combed, and she wore a blue blouse with a white skirt just below the knee. Over it, a short coat kept her warm. She smiled, then grabbed Elliot's umbrella. Officially to return it, but, deep down, as an excuse to see him again.

She walked for about fifteen minutes until she reached the workshop. Cars, tools, the smell of oil..a world completely foreign to her. She waited near the entrance, unsure of where to go, when Elliot finally appeared from inside.

He looked surprised to see her, but smiled immediately.

«Hi,» she said, returning the smile. «I brought this back.» She handed him the umbrella. «Though I've grown quite attached to it.»

He laughed. «You could've kept it.»

«I didn't want to feel indebted.»

«Kindness doesn't always need repayment.» he replied gently.

She was struck by his tone. Simple, genuine.

«You came just in time,» Elliot added, checking his watch. «I finish work in five minutes. If you haven't eaten yet...»

Elizabeth hesitated. She didn't want to give false hope, since her heart was still tangled elsewhere.

«I don't want you to think—»

«It's just lunch.» he interrupted softly.

Elizabeth smiled, a little reassured. «Alright. Just lunch.»

They walked to a small café she knew, tucked in a quiet alley. Once seated, the contrast between them was hard to miss: she was polished, elegant, and he still wore the traces of the workshop.

«Sorry you have to be seen with someone like me.» he said, only half-joking.

«Don't apologise. I'm used to men in suits who say what they're supposed to say. It's nice to talk to someone a bit more...real.»

He smiled. «So, besides stealing umbrellas from strangers, what do you do in life?»

She laughed. A sound Elliot immediately liked. «I read, play piano, paint...»

«Oh, an artist. I'm more...oil and wrenches. But I love music too, thanks to my dad.»

«What kind of music?» Elizabeth asked.

«A bit of everything. You?»

«I started with classical. Now I really love jazz.»

They paused as the waitress brought their food: a meat pie for him, a sandwich for her. They thanked her and resumed talking.

«You seem smart,» Elliot said. «I bet you study at some fancy university.»

The comment hit Elizabeth unexpectedly. She lowered her eyes. «I wish. But there are...circumstances. I'd love to study Fine Arts, though.»

Sensing her discomfort, he didn't press. «I wanted to study too, once. Sociology. I didn't even really know what it was, I just loved reading about people. But it wasn't exactly in the cards. My father got me into the workshop when I was seventeen, and...here I am.»

Elizabeth gave him a thoughtful smile. Maybe they had more in common than it seemed.

Once lunch was over, they stepped outside.

«Can I walk you home?» Elliot asked.

She hesitated. She knew she couldn't risk her parents seeing them. «It's a bit far...and I wouldn't want you to be late for work.»

«I'm a good runner.» he joked.

She smiled, but then added, «Sorry, but I'd feel better if no one I know saw me. I hope that's alright.»

He nodded, trying not to show his disappointment. «Well, let me at least let me walk you to the corner.»

They walked in silence for a few steps.

«Thanks for lunch.» she murmured.

«Thank you. Think we'll do this again sometime?»

Elizabeth paused. «Maybe. I could...send you a letter.»

He smiled. «Then I'll keep an eye out.»

They said goodbye with a small wave and walked off in opposite directions.

For the first time, Elizabeth had experienced something simple and spontaneous. No pressure, no performance. Just a quiet, genuine connection. But part of her heart still lingered elsewhere, and she feared misleading someone as kind as Elliot.

As for him, he tried not to get his hopes up, but couldn't help it. He'd be patient, but eventually he'd convince her. It wouldn't have been easy to find another girl like that.

Chapter Text

House Of Cards - Radiohead (2007)

—

The next day, Laurent and Atlas met again in the library to finish their pair project. They'd been working for two hours, sat at a corner table scattered with books and half-empty coffee cups.
Atlas let out a long sigh.

Laurent looked up. «Don't tell me you're already dying.»

«We've been here for two hours, you know...any normal person would go crazy. Not all people are obsessive like you.»

«I am not obsessive.» Laurent murmured, his teeth clenched. «It is you who are not used to working.»

Atlas groaned, leaning back in his chair. «This assignment is draining my soul.»

Laurent smirked. «You're so tragic. Have you even finished?»

Atlas nodded, handing the paper to him. «Here. Judge my masterpiece.»

Laurent carefully scanned it, his eyes furrowed. «I'll tell you the truth...you've improved. Must be thanks to my help.»

«Sure.» Atlas replied, laughing softly.

They packed up their things and left the library together. As they stepped outside, Atlas suddenly turned to him.

«Oh! I forgot to brag.»

Laurent raised an eyebrow. «That doesn't sound like you at all.»

Atlas ignored his jab. «The philosophy professor pulled me aside this morning. He said I did well on the test.»

Laurent's face lit up. «Seriously? That's amazing!»

«I know, right?» Atlas beamed.

«Apparently, I'm a genius now.»
Then, more sincerely, he added, «Anyway...I guess I also owe it to you. Thanks.»

Laurent quickly lowered his eyes, flattered. «Oh, well...I'm glad it worked out.»

«Yeah, but don't let it go to your head.» Atlas hurried. «I could've done it perfectly on my own.»

Laurent stifled a chuckle.

«Great, I can finally relax this weekend.» Atlas said, stretching contentedly. «By the way, are you coming to the party?»

Laurent frowned. «Party? What party?»

«Well, you know, the usual stuff. We'll meet at a pub, there'll be music, drinks...just like every past year.»

«Sounds nice. You should go.»

Atlas tilted his head sideways, one hand brushing nervously over the back of his neck. «You're not coming?»

«No way.» Laurent replied, shaking his head. «Parties and I are not really compatible.»

Atlas snorted. «You're always the same old bore. I swear, one day I'll drag you into the real world. Kicking and screaming, if I have to.»

«You and I have two opposing ideas of fun.» Laurent retorted. «And I already know how it'll end up. You'll drink and have fun with Percy and the others, while I'll just be left alone in a corner.»

Atlas's grin softened, his fingers drumming against his thigh. «I mean...yeah, I like hanging out with the others, but...» He hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. «It's different with you. Better, actually.»

Laurent's pulse quickened, caught off guard. Atlas quickly looked away, tugging at the sleeve of his jacket.

«Anyway, that's why I want you there. You're...a good friend.» He forced a smirk, tossing the seriousness aside. «And someone has to make sure you don't turn into a hermit.»

Laurent half-opened his mouth, stunned.

Before he could answer, a group of girls walked by and greeted Atlas with flirtatious smiles, but he didn't seem to notice them in the usual way. His eyes were fixed on Laurent, lingering more than necessary.

Laurent, unable to resist that glance, finally gave in.

«Fine,» he muttered with a sigh. «I'll come.»

Atlas smiled, resting a hand on his shoulder. Laurent tensed immediately, and Atlas pulled back almost as quickly, as if unsure of his own boldness.

«It'll be great, then. See you later.»
Laurent forced a faint smile, watching him leave. He already knew he'd regret it. But Atlas had asked, and he'd said yes because it mattered to him. Even if it was just as a friend. A good friend.

—

That Saturday evening, Inès stood in front of her mirror, fastening a simple gold earring.

The dark red dress hugged her figure without being flashy, its long sleeves falling elegantly to her wrists. She smoothed the skirt, slipped into a black coat, and stared at her reflection for a moment. She was nervous. Why? It was just a stupid date. With her ex, too.

Grabbing her bag, she left the dorm and immediately spotted Percy waiting by the main door. His white shirt was crisp, his copper hair neatly combed back, and he had that insufferable self-confidence in the way he leaned against the railing.

«Hey.» she said.

He turned, and his smile was instant.

«Wow...I knew you'd look amazing, but this is unfair.»

Inès felt heat rise to her cheeks and immediately masked it with sarcasm.

«You always start with flattery, don't you?»

«Only when it's true.» He offered his arm with a playful gesture. She hesitated, then took it. Half to humor him, half because it felt strangely natural.

They walked through the evening streets toward the town center, where the last streaks of sunset bled into the darkening sky.

Percy led her to a small bistro tucked between a bookstore and a flower shop. The warm glow of its lamps spilled onto the cobblestones.

«Here we are.» he said, opening the door for her.

Inside, the place was cozy: brick walls, vintage posters, and the smell of butter and roasted garlic floating in the air. A jazz song hummed in the background.

Inès raised an eyebrow, impressed despite herself.

«You picked this?»

Percy grinned. «You told me to convince you. I'm taking it seriously.»

They sat at a corner table, half-hidden behind a potted plant. As they looked over the menu, Percy kept sneaking glances at her.

«You know, you're making this way too easy for me,» he teased.

Inès looked up, suspicious. «How?»

«By looking at me like that. Like you're almost having fun.»

She rolled her eyes but smiled. «Don't get ahead of yourself.»

Dinner started light: Percy made her laugh with a silly story about George accidentally locking himself in a broom closet during practice, and she pretended to be annoyed at his confidence. Every now and then, she caught herself forgetting that this was supposed to be a one‑month trial.

Halfway through the meal, a young waiter approached to refill their water glasses. He froze for a second, staring openly at Inès.

«Wow...forgive me, but you're stunning,» he said, leaning a little too close. «When I get off in an hour, maybe I could—»

Percy set his fork down with a clink. «Are you serious?»

The waiter blinked at him, only now seeming to notice his presence.

«You see a boy and a girl having dinner together, and you think it's okay to flirt with her?» Percy said, his voice low but sharp.

Inès felt her stomach twist. She wanted to scold him for overreacting, but a part of her...liked it.

The waiter stammered, muttered an apology, and hurried away.

«Percy,» Inès said finally, tilting her head toward him, «I could have handled that myself.»

«I know,» he admitted, still tense. «I just...didn't like the way he looked at you.»

Her heart gave an inconvenient little jump. She hid it behind a smirk. «But what if I wanted to flirt back? He's exactly my type, to be honest.»

Percy laughed, incredulous. «That thing? Please. You could do so much better.»

«You mean...yourself?»

Percy shrugged. «Could be.»

She shook her head and gave him a small laugh.

The rest of the evening softened after that. They finished their meals, ordered coffee, and Percy surprised her by asking about her classes, listening more than he talked.

By the time they left the bistro, the town had gone quiet, lamplight reflecting off the damp cobbles.

Percy stopped by the little flower shop next door, now closing for the night. A small display of roses and tulips remained outside.

«Wait here,» he said, darting over to speak with the florist.

Inès watched him, a hand on her chest to calm the fluttering heartbeat she refused to acknowledge. A minute later, he returned with a modest bouquet: white lilies, a red rose, and a few sprigs of tulips.

«For you,» he said, softer now.

She took the flowers, brushing her fingers against his. «Thank you...they're beautiful.»

«So are you,» he replied without hesitation.

Inès hit him on his shoulder. «Oh, shut up.»

Their eyes locked, and they stood for a moment in the cool night, like the world had slowed down. Inès finally broke the silence with a quiet laugh.

«Come on, it's time to go back.»

They walked to the university and parted ways in front of Inès' dormitory, greeting each other softly.

Inside, Inès leaned against the door and closed her eyes, clutching the flowers. She hated to admit it, but part of her already didn't want him to fail.

Chapter Text

No.1 Party Anthem - Arctic Monkeys (2013)

—

Laurent walked beside Inès toward the entrance of the club. The street outside was packed with students laughing and smoking, the air thick with music and chatter spilling from the doors.

«I can’t believe you actually came,» Inès said, glancing at him with an amused smile. «I thought you hated parties.»

«Well…I do.» Laurent muttered. «But sometimes it’s good to try and blend into the crowd.»

«I like hearing that,» she said warmly. «I think I’ll wait for my friends here.»

Laurent nodded. «Yeah…I should go look for Atlas. Before he gets himself into trouble.»

She chuckled. It wasn't the first time Laurent had mentioning that guy. He seemed to be everywhere.

With a small wave, Laurent slipped through the entrance curtain into the main hall. A wash of red light and deafening music hit him immediately. The space was crowded: students packed the dance floor, some swaying in the glow of the stage lights, while others lounged on the leather sofas along the walls. A live band was playing at the back of the room, and the singer’s voice was almost drowned out by the beat.

Anxiety crept up Laurent’s spine. Without his glasses, everything was blurry. The music too loud, the crowd overwhelming. He forced himself to breathe and scanned the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of Atlas.

And then he saw him. His heart skipped, and all his nervousness melted away. Just knowing he was there was enough.

Atlas stood talking to two guys, probably his roommates, radiant as always. He wore a simple white shirt, black tie, black trousers, and polished loafers. Maybe plain, but effortlessly striking.

Laurent couldn’t hear a word, but he saw him smile, and warmth bloomed in his chest. He smiled back instinctively.

A moment later, Atlas turned, spotted him, and his face lit up. He said something to the other two, who drifted away, then crossed the room with that easy, confident smile.

«Am I dreaming, or is that you?»

«I guess it’s me.» Laurent said with a small grin. «You have no idea how hard it was for me to get here.»

«Well, I’m glad you did.» Atlas tilted his head, frowning slightly. «What happened to your glasses?»

Laurent’s lips curved into a shy smile. He was the only one who had noticed. «Sometimes I like to take them off…for special occasions.» he lied. «I can see fine without them.»

Atlas hesitated, then smiled. «Interesting. I hope you won’t take this the wrong way, but…I think you look better with them.»

His eyes flicked briefly to his shoes, and a faint flush crept over his cheeks, though he tried to mask it with a smirk.

Those words sent a quiet warmth through Laurent. A detail he’d always hated about himself was appreciated by him. For the first time, he met Atlas’s eyes for longer than a heartbeat and noticed the faint blue flecks inside his green irises.

The moment broke when Atlas cleared his throat, looking away.

«Come on, let’s get a drink. I won’t let you get through the night sober.»

Laurent chuckled, nodded, and followed him toward the bar.

Meanwhile, Percy lounged on one of the leather sofas near the stage, his eyes following Atlas across the room.

«Did you see that, George?» he muttered.

«See what?»

«That boy Atlas was talking to. They just went into the other room.»

George squinted around. «I don’t—»

«I told you they went over there, idiot,» Percy snapped.

George frowned. «What’s your problem tonight?»

Edward raised his hands to calm them. «Relax, both of you. I saw him too. They’re together a lot...library, hallways. Do you know him?»

«Not really,» Percy said. «He’s Inès’s cousin. And Atlas shouldn’t waste his time with someone like that. He should be with someone on our level.»

Edward only nodded, used to that kind of talk.

At the entrance, Inès and her three friends slipped into the bar area. Before heading through the red curtain to the dance floor, she hesitated.

«Do you see Percy anywhere?» she whispered.

Sarah peeked through the curtain. «He’s on the back sofas with his friends.»

«Already here?» Inès adjusted her hair. «Is my makeup okay? Nothing’s…off?»

Melanie stepped closer, smoothing a few strands. «Perfect. You look gorgeous.»

Inès smiled. «Thank you.»

Sarah grabbed her shoulders. «Now go. Have fun.»

Taking a deep breath, Inès pushed through the curtain into the dance room.

Percy, who had been staring at the entrance, jumped to his feet the moment he saw her.

«I think Inès is here,» Aaron muttered. «He didn’t even say goodbye.»

George snorted. «He’s a jerk, but he always gets the best girls.»

«He knows how to get what he wants,» Edward said simply.

Percy’s scowl had already morphed into a bright smile. «Inès! You look…gorgeous.»

She glanced down, hiding a small smile. «Thank you. You…look nice too.»

«You didn’t come alone, did you?»

«No, I’m with my friends.» She hesitated, then blurted, «But…I want to be with you tonight.»

Percy’s smile widened. «Good. Come on, let me buy you a drink.»

She took his offered arm, struggling to match his height, and they settled at the bar with two cocktails. Percy kept glancing around, scanning for Atlas, but couldn’t spot him.

«Looking for someone?» Inès asked, suspicious.

«Who, me? No, no…» Percy shook his head and focused back on her, starting their familiar dance of flirtation.

Meanwhile, Atlas and Laurent sat at a small table in the back room, still unnoticed by Percy.

«I can’t believe you’ve never had a single drink in your life,» Atlas said, incredulous. «Not even a sip of beer?»

Laurent shook his head.

«You don’t know what you’re missing.» Atlas sighed, then downed half his glass. He slid it toward Laurent with one finger. «Go on. Just a taste.»

Laurent hesitated, then gave in. He took a cautious sip, grimaced, and coughed. Atlas laughed, patting his back, but a flicker of concern crossed his face.

«This is awful!» Laurent sputtered. «How can you drink that?»

«It’s not about the taste,» Atlas said, gesturing animatedly. «It’s about how it makes you feel.»

Laurent frowned. «I don’t think I get it.»

«Picture this: bad day, you’re tired, angry, too many thoughts in your head. What do you do?»

«I’d probably make a pot of coffee and lock myself in my room with a book,» Laurent answered.

Atlas groaned and gave his shoulder a playful smack.

«Ow! What the hell?»

«You and your damn books!»

Laurent broke into loud laughter. Real, unrestrained. Atlas blinked, caught off guard by the sound, and a genuine smile touched his lips. He’d never heard Laurent laugh like that, and something in his chest eased just for a moment.

But the moment shifted when he noticed Edward step through the curtain. A moment later, he spotted them and approached.

«Everything okay?» Laurent asked, catching the change in Atlas’s face.

«Yeah…yeah, it’s fine,» Atlas muttered, though his fingers tapped against the edge of the glass.

Edward slid into the seat beside them. «Atlas’ friends are my friends. I’m Edward,» he said, offering a hand.

Laurent jumped and shook it awkwardly. «Laurent…I guess.»

Edward chuckled. «You guess?» Then he turned to Atlas. «Man, you have to come. George and Aaron are doing a drinking challenge!»

Atlas’ jaw tightened. «I’m good here, Ed.» he said, forcing a small smile. His voice made it clear he wasn’t thrilled.

«Come on,» Edward insisted, throwing an arm around him. «It’ll be fun. And there are plenty of pretty girls.»

A knot tightened in Laurent’s throat. Atlas noticed it, and his chest ached. Instead of asking him to stay, Laurent swallowed his feelings, like he always did.

«Just go,» he murmured with a faint smile, his voice barely steady. «I was going to the bathroom anyway.»

Atlas gave him a sad little smile, then followed Edward toward the other room, glancing back at Laurent over his shoulder.

Laurent sighed and pushed back his chair. He made his way to the bathroom, relieved to find it empty. Stepping into a stall, he locked the door and sat on the closed lid, elbows on his knees and head in his hands.

The knot in his throat felt heavier by the second, a dull ache that refused to go away. He took a slow breath, trying to steady himself, but the weight in his chest lingered. For a moment, he considered just staying there all night. Hidden, quiet, far from the music and the crowd.

Meanwhile, Atlas had followed Edward into the other room. He ended up in the middle of the dance floor, swaying a little awkwardly to the music with a drink clutched in his right hand.

From a short distance away, Edward scanned the room until he spotted Percy. Their eyes met, and Edward gave him a quick thumbs-up, a silent confirmation that he’d done his part.

Now Atlas was busy, distracted, away from that boy who, at least in Edward’s eyes, had nothing unusual. But when Percy decided something wasn’t right, they all followed his lead.

After about ten minutes, Laurent forced himself to go out of the bathroom and returned to the ballroom. He couldn’t see Atlas anywhere. Through the blur, he only recognized Inès, laughing as she danced with Percy. He hesitated for a moment, then slipped out of the room.

He went outside and sat on the steps, tilting his head back to the starry sky. He breathed deeply, trying to calm down.

Inside, Atlas had already had a few drinks and was surrounded by people, but he noticed Laurent slip in and out in seconds. Without thinking, he escaped the crowd and searched the bar, eventually finding him outside.

«Hey,» he said, lowering himself onto the step beside him. «I…lost you in there.»

Laurent turned to him, surprised. «Atlas? I thought you were inside having fun.»

Atlas hesitated. «I just…went with them for a bit. You told me I could.»

«I…I didn’t think you’d actually take me seriously.» he muttered, a sad smile on his face.

Atlas lingered in silence, an uneasy pinch of guilt settling in his stomach. He wanted to brush it off with a joke, but he didn’t.

«You’re right. I’m…I’m sorry.» he murmured. «I dragged you here and left you alone. It was stupid.»

Laurent shrugged. «Just a little.»

Atlas lit his cigarette, staring into the dark street. «I’m not usually someone who lets others influence me, but…sometimes I get pulled in anyway. Things with Percy and his friends are…complicated. They act like they’re all friends, but deep down, they pretty much hate each other.»

«Then why even by friends?» Laurent asked.

«For appearance. Reputation. That’s all that matters to people like them.» He tapped the cigarette ash. «You…you’re not built for that. You don’t pretend, you don’t play along.»

Laurent smiled faintly, his heart fluttering. «Well…but you seem to fit in. I wish I felt that comfortable at a party.»

Atlas laughed under his breath. «Don’t believe everything you see. People think I have the perfect life, but…I don’t.» He paused. «At first, I really hated this place. Truth is, I never even wanted to come. My parents were sick of me wasting my time…so it came down to a choice: go to university, or end up in reform school.»

Laurent turned to him, eyebrows raised.

«I just wanted to live my own life, make my own choices. They made me feel worthless for this.» He exhaled smoke, then looked at Laurent with a sad smile.

«I…I had no idea.» Laurent murmured.

«Yeah, that sucks, but…at least I can breathe here. And it’s not as terrible as I thought.»

«Not at all.» Laurent said. «This university’s always been my dream. I still can’t believe I’m here.»

«How does it feel to have such big dreams?» Atlas asked. «Like…I feel lost most of the time.»

«In a way, it’s kind of nice. Dreams keep you moving forward, make you believe in something. But…if you lean on them too much, you end up forgetting to enjoy real life. When everything feels like a mess, you just…need something to hide in, something that pulls you out of reality for a while.»

Atlas looked at him quietly, his cigarette forgotten between his fingers.

«So...I guess things aren't so easy for you either.»

«It’s better now.» Laurent replied. «Coming here saved me. Before that…I felt like my life wasn’t even mine.»

He paused, letting the words hang in the cool night air, and ran a hand through his hair.

«I… I should probably get going soon,» he added quietly, glancing at his watch. «It’s getting late.»

«Late? It’s barely midnight.» Atlas stood up and held out his hand. «Come on, I’ll show you what fun actually looks like.»

Laurent hesitated, eyes flicking from his face to his hand. A nervous laugh escaped him, then he let out a resigned sigh and slipped his hand into Atlas’s.

«Just this once.»

Atlas felt the warmth of his fingers and the subtle tension in his grip, and a small relief eased his shoulders. He grinned and guided Laurent back inside the pub. The muffled music grew louder with each step, and Laurent felt the tension in his chest slowly ease as they stepped inside.

«What are you gonna do?» Laurent shouted over the music, a hint of amusement breaking through.

«Dance!» Atlas replied, spinning slightly.

Laurent’s eyes widened. «What? I—I can’t dance!»

Atlas leaned closer—tone warm, smile teasing. «Doesn’t matter. No one here cares. They’re all just trying to have fun. Just follow the beat, let go.»

He closed his eyes, swaying to the rhythm and snapping his fingers. Laurent hesitated for a second, then started moving his shoulders and rocking slightly to the music. Atlas opened his eyes, caught his attempt, and laughed softly.

«See? Not so bad.»

Laurent smiled despite himself, letting the music wash over him. The loud beat didn’t bother him anymore and the crowd seemed less threatening. Everyone was too busy laughing and moving to notice him. They both closed their eyes and let the rhythm take them. For the first time all evening, Laurent actually felt…light.

Meanwhile, a little farther off, Inès and Percy were clumsily dancing, both clearly drunk.

At one point, Inès leaned in and muttered, «I need the bathroom.»

Percy wobbled after her, but she waved him off and disappeared behind the door. He slumped against the wall to wait, while she splashed water on her face and groaned at the mess of her smudged makeup.

When she finally came out, Percy staggered to his feet. «Inès, you…you look–»

«Shut up,» she muttered, and kissed him before dragging him back inside and shutting the door.

Shortly after, Laurent, who was still on the dance floor with Atlas, told him he had to go to the bathroom.

«Yeah, I have to go too.»

They went together, and when Atlas reached for the handle, he noticed that the door was already open. He got in a bit hesitant and, seeing the scene that was in front of him, exclaimed,

«Percy?!»

Laurent froze beside him. «Inès?!»

The two of them whipped around. Percy was leaning against the wall, shirtless, his hands on Inès’s hips, who, thankfully, was still fully dressed.

For a moment, the room went dead silent. Atlas instinctively reached to shield Laurent’s eyes, but he shook his head, horrified.

Inès stumbled, nearly collapsing, and Atlas caught her just in time. «They’re completely wasted,» he said. «We can’t leave them here.»

«Inès…» Percy slurred from the floor, reaching out to her.

«Enough.» Atlas snapped, then turned to Laurent. «Take her outside. I’ll deal with him.»

Laurent nodded, looping Inès’s arm over his shoulder. She barely stirred, and he half-carried her out into the cool night air. On the steps, he sat her down and gently leaned her head against his shoulder. She didn’t speak a word.

Back in the bathroom, Atlas crouched in front of Percy. «Come on, put your shirt on. We’re leaving.»

«Where’s…Inès?» Percy muttered, swinging clumsily at him.

«Why’d you take her away? You–»

Atlas sighed, forcing himself to stay calm. «If you get dressed, I’ll take you to her. Alright?»

It took a few more minutes of coaxing, but eventually Percy let him button the shirt and guide him outside.

«Sorry for the wait.» Atlas said, helping Percy toward the steps.

Laurent stood up, still supporting Inès. Percy lit up at the sight of her. «Inès! I knew they wouldn’t hurt you!»

Atlas rolled his eyes. «We should’ve left him there.»

Laurent allowed himself a small smile as they reached the car.

Atlas drove while the two drunk slumped in the back, asleep in minutes, Inès’s head resting on Percy’s shoulder.

«Finally, some peace.» Atlas murmured with a grin.

The ride back to the university was quiet. Laurent stared out the window, thoughtful, the glow of the streetlights sliding over his face.

After parking in front of the dorms, they half-carried Inès and Percy inside. The halls were silent, and only their footsteps echoed as they climbed the stairs to the third floor.

At her door, Atlas shifted Percy’s weight and gave Laurent a tired smile. «I’ll handle him from here. Thanks for…all this.»

Laurent nodded, brushing his hair from his eyes. «Goodnight, Atlas.»

«Goodnight, Laurent.»

Atlas watched him a moment longer before turning down the hall, the quiet finally settling around them.

Chapter Text

The next morning, around ten, Atlas, Percy, and the others sat down in the dining hall for breakfast.

«Did you know eggs help sober you up?» Aaron said, pointing at Percy's plate piled with eggs and bacon.

«Good to know.» he muttered, already digging in.

Atlas, head bowed over his plate, wondered whether Percy remembered the night before, or if he had told anyone about Inès.

«You spent the whole night with her, didn't you?» George teased. «Bet you had fun.»

Atlas lifted his gaze, curious about Percy's reply.

«Yes, we had fun,» he said after a pause. «But it's not what you think. Nothing happened.»

Atlas frowned. Unusual of him. Perhaps he had genuinely forgotten.

«And you, Atlas?» Percy asked then, his tone casual but loaded. «Looked like you were having a good time too.»

Atlas caught the subtext: Laurent. He forced a smile. «Yeah. It was fun.»

Percy nodded, dissatisfied, and went back to his food.

After breakfast, the group split up. Atlas was about to leave when Percy stopped him.

«Hey, man...can we talk for a minute?»

Atlas hesitated, then nodded. They stepped into a quiet corner of the hallway. Percy's expression was serious.

«Listen. I want to give you some friendly advice. Something for your own good.»

Atlas frowned, but gestured for him to go on.

«You know Inès's cousin? That guy who's always hanging around you lately?»

Atlas's stomach tightened. «Yeah?»

«I think you should stop spending time with him. I mean...you've got me, Edward, the others...Why lower yourself to that level?»

Atlas let out a short, disbelieving laugh. «Are you serious? Since when do you decide who I should talk to?»

Percy sighed. «I knew you'd take it the wrong way. But...you don't even know who he really is, do you?»

Atlas's pulse spiked. «What do you mean?»

«I grew up in Paisley too.» Percy whispered. leaning closer. «I saw something, years ago...a kiss between two boys. One of them got caught, the other didn't. And the one who got caught...» he hesitated, «was your dear friend Laurent.»

The words hit Atlas like a punch to the gut. He froze, a cold weight settling in his chest. No, I couldn't be him.

«You should stay away from him,» Percy went on. «For your own sake. What if he's in love with you? What if he tries to kiss you too and someone sees? They'd report you. You could end up in prison, or worse.»

Atlas couldn't speak. The words just lodged in his throat.

Percy forced a smile, patting his shoulder. «Forewarned is forearmed.»

Then he left, his footsteps echoing down the hall.

Atlas stumbled back to his dorm, grateful it was empty. He leaned against the door, his nausea growing stronger.

It didn't make any sense at all. Why him? Why there? And most of all..how hadn't he noticed it before? It was right in front of his eyes the whole time.

Percy's words kept echoing in his skull. What if he's in love with you? What if he tries to kiss you too and someone sees?

«Fuck...» he muttered, raking a hand through his hair. He slid to the floor, knees to his chest, his pulse hammering in his ears.

—

Inès entered the dining hall with two of her friends, hoping to stay unnoticed. She kept her head slightly down, still mortified by the memories of the previous night. The last thing she wanted was to see Percy again.

But fate was not on her side. She'd barely entered when she saw him walking straight toward her, determination in his step. Her friends glanced at each other and discreetly slipped away, leaving her alone.

«I need to talk to you.» Percy said, his voice low but firm.

«There's nothing to say.» Inès replied, cold.

«Listen, I know you're embarrassed about last night, but—»

«No, you don't understand.» She cut him off, finally raising her gaze, her voice trembling with contained anger. «You have no idea how ashamed I am. If anyone found out, I'd be ruined. They'd call me the university harlot. A drunk girl who nearly...lost control with her ex at a party. Do you realize what that would mean for me?»

Percy flinched, at a loss for words. «I—I'm not here to talk about that. I want to talk about us. About what we're doing. I can't go on like this, Inès. Meeting in secret, never knowing where we stand...I need to know what you feel for me. What we are.»

Inès took a shaky breath. Her chest tightened, but she forced herself to speak.

«Fine. You want the truth? I still like you, Percy. I've loved spending time with you these past weeks...walking together, going to the restaurant, pretending for a moment that everything was simple. But I can't go back to being your fiancée, not now. Everyone expects me to settle down, to behave perfectly, to prepare for marriage. And I just...I can't do it. Not again.»

Percy blinked, confused. «Why not?»

«Because I'm scared,» she admitted in a whisper. «Scared of tying myself to you again and ending up hurt like before. Scared of doing everything right and still being miserable. I need to breathe, Percy. I just...I can't be yours right now.»

He opened his mouth, but no words came. She quickly blinked away the tears that threatened to fall.

«I'm sorry. Going back to this was a mistake.»

And without another glance, she left him standing there in the middle of the dining hall, surrounded by the echo of everything she hadn't said.

From across the room, Aaron whispered, «Woah...did they just break up? Again?»

George folded his arms with a smug grin. «I hope so. Serves him right.»

—

After lunch, Laurent went to the library to pick up some books for the upcoming exams, about a month away.

As he walked between the shelves, he caught a glimpse of Atlas on the other side, already staring at him. Their eyes met for a second, and Atlas quickly looked away, heading for the exit.

Laurent frowned. He'd been acting off all day, elusive and tense, and he couldn't figure out why.

He followed him, calling his name. Atlas didn't answer. When Laurent stepped in front of him, he stopped, caught off guard.

«You're in a hurry.» Laurent said, arms crossed, trying to sound casual.

Atlas blinked. «Huh? No, just...some stuff to do.»

«Stuff? Really?»

Atlas's gaze shifted on his feet. «Yeah, well...you know...things. Complicated things.» he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. «I've got a lot going on, so...maybe it's better if we...keep our distance, you know.»

Laurent froze, disbelief flickering over his face. «...Distance? For what?»

«I—I don't know. I just—people talk. Or think they know things.»

Laurent narrowed his eyes. «I thought you didn't care about others.»

«It's not that simple.» Atlas's voice was sharper now, though the edge faltered almost immediately. «If they start saying stuff, it doesn't just...go away. It sticks. And I don't...» He trailed off, shaking his head. «I don't want them to misunderstand anything.»

Laurent's stomach dropped. «What could they possibly misunderstand?» He hated how his voice cracked on the last word. «We're just...friends.»

Atlas looked away, shoulders tensing. He didn't talk, and for a moment, the hallway was silent, heavy with things left unsaid.

Laurent's jaw tightened, frustration rising. «Fine, I get it.»

He turned, but before he could walk away, Atlas's hand brushed against his arm. Quick, hesitant, almost accidental.

Laurent stopped and their eyes met.

Atlas pressed his lips together, as if to say something but then rethinking it.

«...Sorry,» he murmured, his voice low. «I—I don't know why I did that.»

Laurent didn't reply, letting the moment hang. He walked away, leaving Atlas in the quiet hallway, caught between regret and uncertainty.

Friends. That was how they defined it. But Atlas didn't remember ever feeling the same way about any of his friends. And now he couldn't tell what was going on anymore.

Chapter Text

Matilda and Laurent were sitting side by side on the sofa in one of the common rooms, both reading. The warm lamplight made the space feel almost suspended in time, with the quiet punctuated only by the soft crackle of the fireplace and the low murmur of students chatting at the tables behind them.

She was halfway through a page of the book he had lent her when her eyes caught a line scribbled in pen along the margin. The writing was quick and slanted, almost shy. Smirking, she leaned toward him and showed it.

«I bet you wrote this.»

Laurent glanced at it and smiled, caught. «How did you know?»

«It's obvious. I'd recognise your tone anywhere.»

She returned to her book, but after a moment, her gaze drifted back to him, studying his profile.

«...What?» he asked, sensing her eyes on him.

«You seem...different. A little sad.»

Laurent sighed and closed the book in his lap. «I've had a rough afternoon.»

Matilda set her own book aside, attentive. «Want to talk about it?»

He hesitated, then nodded slowly. «Do you remember when I told you about someone I liked?»

She nodded, listening quietly.

«Well...for a while, things felt like they were going well. I followed your advice, tried to be brave. I even thought...» He hesitated, then shrugged. «I thought they might feel the same way. How...stupid of me. Now it's like they've just started pushing me away out of nowhere.»

«Out of nowhere?» she asked gently.

Laurent hesitated again. «They gave some explanation, but...honestly, it just felt like an excuse.»

Matilda leaned back, thinking. «Maybe there are reasons they can't explain. Sometimes people act that way to protect themselves...or even to protect you.»

Laurent gave a small, doubtful nod.

«Or...» She hesitated, softening her voice. «Maybe they just want to move on, and didn't know how to say it clearly.»

Laurent's shoulders slumped slightly. «I really want to believe it's the first option. Otherwise I'd just feel...pathetic.»

«It isn't pathetic,» Matilda said firmly, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. «Caring about someone never is. Sometimes people just...don't match. It happens. And it doesn't necessarily have to be your fault.»

He managed a faint smile and looked toward the fire. «I just wish things could be simpler.»

«You know, maybe simplicity isn't for everyone,» she said with a half-smile. «Maybe the messy parts are what make life real.»

He let out a small breath and nodded, though the crease in his brow didn't ease.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The fire crackled, pages turned, and outside the window the sky deepened into the blue of early evening.

—

Atlas pushed open the library doors, telling himself he was only there for books. But the first thing he did was scan the aisles, not the shelves.

It didn't take long to find him. Laurent was in the poetry section, leaning close to read a spine. And right beside him sat Matilda, the girl with the short bob. They were talking quietly, their heads almost brushing as they checked the titles together.

A sharp pang twisted in Atlas's chest before he could stop it. Was it necessary to be that close?

He stayed behind a shelf, watching as Matilda pointed to a book and Laurent smiled faintly in response. Something about how natural they looked together made his stomach tighten. He noticed the gap in the row where a familiar volume should be and remembered seeing it recently. He didn't think, he just went to grab it.

Moments later, he stepped into the aisle, holding up the book.

«Looking for this?»

Laurent startled slightly, then blinked in surprise. «Oh—thanks...»

Matilda's eyes widened slightly. «Woah, that's...impressive.»

Atlas gave her a half-smile, his voice carrying a casual confidence he wasn't feeling. «I've got a good memory for these shelves.» Then he looked at Laurent. «Figured I'd saved you some time.»

Laurent smiled, a little uncertain. «Yeah.»

Atlas let his gaze slide to Matilda again. «So, you're Matilda, right?»

She seemed taken aback. «Yes...we've met, I think.»

«Right,» he said lightly. «Laurent's told me you're always helping him find the best books.»

A faint smile flickered across her face. «I suppose I try.»

Atlas lingered a second longer than necessary, feeling the weight of their attention, and gave Laurent's shoulder a casual pat.

«Well...enjoy it. I'll let you two get back to your poetry hunt.»

Outside the row of shelves, he let out a slow breath. His heart was pounding. He usually wasn't the nervous one, but something about Laurent always threw him off balance.

Back in the poetry section, Laurent watched Atlas disappear with a soft, involuntary smile curling at the edge of his lips.

«Isn't that the guy you went to the party with?» Matilda asked, her voice even.

«Yeah,» Laurent said, still distracted. «Atlas.»

«He seemed...eager to find you.»

Laurent hesitated. «Well, he's a bit...peculiar.»

They didn't say more. Laurent's heart still fluttered faintly, and Matilda, sensing the shift, turned back to the shelves. The library hummed softly around them, leaving only the crackle of distant pages and the memory of Atlas's sudden appearance.

—

That same evening, in another part of Scotland, Elizabeth and Elliot left the cinema and walked down the cool October streets. The sky was dark, and the streetlamps cast a soft amber glow on the damp pavement.

«Did you like the film?» Elliot asked.

«Yeah, it was very good,» Elizabeth said, smiling. «I love clever comedies.»

«I liked Cary Grant's character. He reminded me a little of myself.»

«I hope you're not out there hunting for a missing dinosaur bone,» she teased.

«And I hope you're not hiding any pet leopards.»

They laughed. Their hands brushed, lingered for a moment, then drifted apart, leaving a subtle tension behind.

«Did I ever tell you I fell into a hole as a child?» Elliot said suddenly, glancing at her.

Elizabeth laughed. «What?»

«Yeah, I think that's when all my troubles began. I was about seven, running in a field with my brothers, and—BOOM—straight into a hole. I hurt my leg, I thought I'd never get out. My eldest brother had to pull me up. I had a bruise for weeks.»

«You've had an adventurous life.» Elizabeth chuckled. «I didn't even know you had brothers.»

«Three,» he said. «I'm the second youngest. You know, a father working the land needs plenty of hands. I ended up in the workshop, though.»

He hesitated, his tone softening.

«The eldest, the one who pulled me out of the hole...well, he left. He couldn't stand how we lived and went to London. I was fourteen, and it felt like a betrayal.» He glanced down briefly. «Eventually I left too, and I found my own life.»

Elizabeth stayed silent, arms crossed against the chill, listening closely.

«After that, I felt lonely for a while. Then I found Bailey. He was a stray, all skin and bones. I couldn't leave him. Took him in, fed him...he's been with me ever since.»

Elizabeth smiled warmly. «That's really sweet.»

She couldn't help thinking how different that felt compared to Atlas: with him, she'd always been waiting for something, tense, hoping for a sign. With Elliot, everything was easier, lighter. She could simply exist.

They reached a small wooden bridge overlooking a stream. The town's lights rippled across the water like flickering stars. A gust of wind made Elizabeth huddle into herself.

«Cold?» Elliot asked. «I can lend you my jacket.»

«...I'm fine.» she said with a polite smile.

But when he noticed her shivering, he quietly draped his coat over her shoulders.

She startled slightly, then murmured, «Thank you,» without meeting his eyes.

«It's nice here,» Elliot said, breathing in. «Clean air. A good change from engine fumes.»

Elizabeth glanced at him. «I've had a really nice evening. Thank you.»

«You don't need to thank me.»

«I know, it's just that...I'm not used to feeling this comfortable with someone.»

Elliot smiled, but didn't press for details.

After a moment, he sighed. «It's getting late. I still don't have the pass to walk you home, do I?»

Elizabeth shook her head, smiling. «Not yet. I need to win my father over first.»

They turned back, leaving behind the view of the glowing town and the murmur of the stream. Side by side, their long shadows stretched across the pavement, two shapes quietly finding their way together.

Chapter Text

Atlas took a deep breath before ringing the bell. The October air was damp and heavy, and he felt it in his chest. Moments later, the door opened, revealing Mrs. Blackwood with her usual polite smile.

«Atlas,» she greeted warmly. «come in.»

He stepped inside, returning the smile. The familiar scent of the house—polished wood and tea leaves—made his stomach tighten. Elizabeth appeared in the hallway, pale and nervous. Their eyes met for a moment before she forced a faint smile.

«Hi.» he murmured.

«Hi.»

Mr. Blackwood’s voice came from the living room. «Ah, Atlas. I was told you were coming. To what do we owe the pleasure?»

Atlas hesitated. «May we…sit down?»

Something in his tone made the man’s brows knit. Still, he gestured toward the sofa. They all sat: Elizabeth beside Atlas, her parents opposite them. A maid entered briefly to bring tea, but the tension in the air silenced even the clinking of the cups.

Atlas glanced at Elizabeth. She swallowed hard. «Father, Mother…we have something to tell you.»

Her father leaned forward, expectant.

«We…» She faltered, then blurted, «We’ve decided not to marry.»

Frost fell into the room. Mr. Blackwood's jaw stiffened, while his wife’s lips parted in quiet surprise.

After a long pause, he spoke. «Not…not marry?» His voice was steady, but cold. «I beg your pardon?»

Atlas straightened his back. «We’ve thought about it carefully. We don’t want to spend our lives following someone else’s plan if it will only make us unhappy.»

Elizabeth’s father frowned, his tone sharpening. «You are young, respectable, and clearly fond of each other. Why throw away such a sensible future?»

«Father, please!» Elizabeth finally burst out, her voice trembling. «You know very well we’ve never loved each other that way. You’ve just…ignored it.» Her eyes brimmed with tears. «Atlas never wanted this, and…neither did I.»

Mr Blackwood’s gaze hardened. «Your wishes only matter up to a point, Elizabeth. I am your father. I cannot watch you squander your life on whims.» He hesitated, then added, «And I certainly won’t see you sneaking around with that mechanic boy.»

Elizabeth froze. «How…how do you know about Elliot?»

Atlas blinked, startled, but said nothing.

«People talk.» her father continued. «A colleague saw you walking with him in broad daylight. He feared you were deceiving Atlas. Imagine the shame if such gossip spreads!»

Elizabeth lowered her head, silent tears sliding down her cheeks. Her mother reached for her husband’s arm, murmuring, «David…that’s enough.»

He didn’t look at her. «You will end this foolishness and proceed with the engagement. That’s final.»

Atlas suddenly stood. «With all due respect, sir…this isn’t fair.»

Mr. Blackwood's eyes snapped to him, surprised. Elizabeth also lifted her head.

«You can’t force her to live the life you want.» Atlas said, his voice firm. «She deserves to choose her own happiness. You’ve had your chance to live yours.»

A tense silence followed. Then the man exhaled sharply and rose from the sofa. «I see. Perhaps it’s best you leave now.»

Atlas turned to Elizabeth, gently taking her wrist as they stepped out into the cool afternoon air.

In the driveway, she wiped her cheeks, her voice barely above a whisper. «Thank you. I didn’t think you’d defend me like that.»

«I had to,» Atlas murmured. «And I know today wasn't very successful, but...we won't give up. Don't worry.»

She gave a small, shaky smile, and for a brief moment, she felt a little lighter.

A few metres away, Elliot was walking along the pavement, clutching a bouquet of flowers. He’d thought it would be a nice surprise for Elizabeth, even though she’d asked him not to show up in front of her parents.

But as he approached the driveway, he froze. Elizabeth was standing there, her back half-turned, talking to a tall, blond boy.

He stopped, heart tightening. He knew it wasn’t right to listen, yet he couldn’t move.

«Now that my father knows about him, it’s a huge problem…I don’t know what to do…» Elizabeth was saying, her voice carried just enough by the wind.

Was she…talking about him?

Before he could catch more, the blond boy glanced his way. «I think someone’s here.»

Elizabeth turned, startled. Her eyes widened. «E-Elliot…?»

He shifted, suddenly aware of the flowers in his hands. «Did I… interrupt something?»

The silence that followed was louder than any accusation.

Atlas seemed to understand. He gave a brief nod to Elizabeth. «I’d better go.» Without waiting for a reply, he walked away down the street and disappeared behind the hedge.

Elizabeth’s hands trembled slightly as she faced Elliot. «What…what are you doing here? I told you…my parents can’t see you.»

«They already know about me, don’t they?» His voice was calm, but cold. «I heard what you said.»

She bit her lip. «Elliot…I…I wanted to explain, but it’s complicated.»

«Then explain it now.»

Elizabeth drew in a shaky breath. «My father wants me to marry Atlas. The boy you just saw. He thinks it’s the best choice for me, and he’s been pressuring me for months. But I don’t want to. I…liked him, years ago. But nothing ever happened between us. And I’m trying to move on, it’s just…not that simple.»

Elliot ran a hand through his hair, his chest tight. «Elizabeth…I like you, alright? But I just can’t be the replacement for someone else.»

«I know.» she whispered. «That’s why I need some time. I don’t want to hurt you.»

He hesitated. «Then why go out with me at all?»

«Because I…I didn’t expect to feel so good with you,» she admitted. «I thought it would be one lunch, and nothing more. But I was wrong.» Her voice faltered. «And now my father doesn’t want me to see you anymore.»

Elliot’s jaw clenched, but he gave a small nod. «That won’t stop me. The only thing that could…is hearing it from you.»

He hesitated, then held out the bouquet. «I want you to have these anyway.»

Elizabeth took the flowers, her fingers trembling. Tears welled in her eyes.

«Please, write to me when you’ll make your decision.» he said quietly.

For a moment, he just looked at her, framed by the driveway lights, hugging the flowers to her chest like a shield. He wanted to remember her like that. Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.

Elizabeth stood in the driveway, motionless, staring at the empty gate. A part of her wanted to run after him. But her feet wouldn’t move.

—

Atlas didn’t go back to the University that evening. Instead, he wandered through the streets, letting the wind bite at his face until he spotted the warm glow of a pub’s sign. Without thinking, he pushed the door open.

Inside, the smell of ale and smoke wrapped around him. He slid onto a stool at the bar, ordered a pint, and downed the first sip like it might quiet the storm in his chest.

He thought of Elizabeth’s tears, of her father’s voice echoing in his head, of Elliot’s expression when he had seen them together. He had defended her without thinking, and yet…he felt like a stranger in her life now.

And then, inevitably, another face surfaced. Laurent. He couldn’t understand what he felt for him. If he had one certain thing in his life, it was that he liked girls. It had always been like that. But now?

He stared into the amber liquid of his drink, his reflection distorted by the ripples. He didn't feel the same person he used to be. Not arrogant, not sarcastic. But kind, caring. And it was driving him crazy.

So he ordered another drink. And another. By the third, the warmth had settled in his chest, softening the sharp edges of the day. He let his head fall onto his hands, half-laughing to himself.

Laurie, Laurie, Laurie…

—

Laurent was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He hadn’t seen Atlas all day. No classes, no dinner. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t care, that he would stop chasing him. And yet, his absence gnawed at him.

After a few restless minutes, he sat up, put on his coat, and left the dormitory. In the corridor he spotted Edward and Aaron.

«Hey, have you seen Atlas?» he asked, trying to sound casual.

They exchanged a glance. «He said he had an engagement,» Aaron replied. «Something out of town.»

Laurent frowned. «Did he say when he’d be back?»

«No. Just that it was…personal.»

Laurent muttered a thanks and walked away, his chest tight. He kept repeating himself to go back to his room. But instead, he left the building and headed into the night.

The streets were damp, the lamplight reflected on the cobblestones. He circled the area around the University first, but deep down he already knew he wouldn’t find him there. Then, turning a corner, he saw a familiar white Mustang parked near the town center. His pulse quickened. He followed the street, peering through pub windows, scanning every bench and alleyway. With every step, his panic grew heavier. Finally, down a narrow side street, he noticed a figure slumped against the wall.

«Atlas!»

He ran over. Atlas tried to get up but stumbled, and Laurent caught him right before he fell. His cheeks were flushed, eyes half-closed, breath heavy with alcohol.

«God, how much did you drink?» Laurent whispered, half angry, half relieved. «Do you know how worried I was?»

Atlas blinked at him, squinting as if to check if he was real. «Lau... Laurent? Is it you?»

Laurent reached for his hand and held it tightly. «Yes, it's me. Now get up, we’re going back.»

«No...I don't...I don't want to go back there.» Atlas stammered.

«What? Why not?»

«Cause…if we go back…I gotta ignore you. Pretend…pretend I don’t feel anything for you.»

Laurent froze, eyes wide. «Atlas…come on, you’re drunk as hell.»

Atlas groaned and rubbed a hand on his face. «Percy…he…he told me everything. I know…the truth.»

«What…what are you talking about?» Laurent murmured, his voice trembling.

Atlas raised his head, his eyes red and filled with tears. He brought his trambling hand to Laurent's cheek. Laurent stiffened, but didn't move. Then, in a whisper, Atlas said,

«Laurie…»

Laurent’s breath caught. No one called him like that. No one had for years. Once—only once—he’d introduced himself that way. Twelve years earlier, on the shore of that lake.

Before he could answer, Atlas rested his forehead on his shoulder and started sobbing.

«I’m sorry,» he murmured. «I just…I don’t understand what’s happening to me. I’ve been selfish, and a coward…I’m so sorry…»

With a hint of hesitation, Laurent rested a hand on his back and drew him closer. He slowly rubbed him in a soothing motion.

«Shh, it’s alright. I’m here.»

They stayed like that, kneeling on the cold stone, the world muted around them, Atlas clung to him like he was the only solid thing left.

Laurent slowly pulled away and wiped Atlas’ cheeks with the sleeve of his sweater, drying his tears.

Then he sighed weakly. «We can't stay here all night. Come on, let's get up.»

He hoisted Atlas up, wrapping his arm around his neck. Atlas stumbled, muttering nonsense under his breath. They walked to the university and went up the stairs, getting to the dorm.

Laurent opened the door and laid Atlas down on his bed. He sat down at the foot of the mattress, exhausted. He paused just long enough to catch his breath, then stood up and pulled the blanket over Atlas.

«Try to sleep, alright?»

He turned and made to leave, but something brushed against his hand.

«Stay…just a little…» Atlas muttered.

Laurent’s throat tightened. He sat back on the edge of the bed, letting Atlas hold his hand until his breathing steadied.

«I wish I could,» he whispered, «But remember, even when you can't see me, I am with you. Always.»

Atlas managed a faint smile. «…Promise?»

«I promise.»

Laurent squeezed his hand one last time, then gently freed himself and left the room, his heart heavier than ever.

Chapter Text

Somewhere Only We Know - Keane (2004)

—

The next morning, Laurent woke up groggy. He had barely slept, his mind replaying every detail of the night before. He didn’t know what to expect from Atlas now. Maybe he’d pretend nothing had happened, or maybe he’d avoid him altogether.

He got ready and went down for breakfast, but Atlas was nowhere to be seen. Only when the first class began did he rush in, a little breathless and disheveled. Laurent couldn’t help feeling a quiet relief at the sight of him.

During the mid-morning break, to Laurent’s surprise, Atlas approached him in the hallway. He hesitated for a moment before speaking, his voice low.

«Hey…uhm…how are you?»

«I’m fine,» Laurent replied, glancing at him from the corner of his eye. «You?»

«I’ve been better. My head’s killing me.» He smiled weakly, and Laurent almost laughed.

A brief, awkward pause followed. Yet it wasn’t an unpleasant silence, more like standing at the edge of something fragile, almost comforting.

Atlas cleared his throat. «About last night, I…I don’t remember much. I just…I wanted to ask…what were you doing there?»

Laurent lowered his gaze. «I…well…I was walking nearby. And I found you.»

«So, totally by accident?»

Laurent hesitated, then gave the smallest shake of his head. «No, actually. I was…worried. You didn’t show up all afternoon, not even for dinner. So…I looked for you.»

Atlas blinked, surprised. «That doesn’t really sound like you.»

Laurent gave a tiny, self-conscious smile. «I know. I’m not usually so reckless.»

Atlas’s mouth curved into a soft, crooked grin. «Still…thanks for coming.»

Another small silence fell, but this time their glances lingered a heartbeat longer. Laurent noticed the faint shadows under Atlas’s eyes, the way his hair was a little messier than usual.

«I probably said a lot of stupid things,» Atlas muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Laurent shrugged. «…It’s fine.»

Atlas’s lips curved shyly. «I should…grab some water before the next class. I have a little stomach ache.»

«Sure…okay.»

They shared one last glance—hesitant, quiet, but warm—and then walked off in opposite directions, each carrying an unspoken spark that neither was ready to name.

—

Atlas walked down the corridor to the Economics classroom, where he was sure to find Percy. And there he was. Aaron, George, Edward and him were loitering in the hallway: some leaning against the wall, others perched on the windowsill, chatting lazily.

The moment Percy noticed him, he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

«Atlas? What do I owe the pleasure?»

Atlas forced a smile. «How about we have a little talk? Just you and me?»

His voice was dripped with sarcasm, and Percy couldn’t help but notice.

«Why do I feel like you’re mocking me?»

Atlas shrugged. «I don’t know. Maybe you’re just being paranoid.»

«Fine. What is it?» Percy replied with a bitter sigh.

Atlas glanced over his shoulder at George, Aaron and Edward. It didn’t take long for Percy to understand the silent request.

«Please, leave us alone.» he said, curtly.

George groaned immediately. «Why do we always have to jump at his command? He’s not the boss.»

«Not today, George. Don’t test me.» Atlas snapped.

«You heard him.» Percy hissed. «Move.»

Aaron and Edward exchanged a look, then quietly slipped away. George lingered just long enough to throw Atlas a venomous look before leaving.

Once they were alone, Percy crossed his arms. «So?»

«I thought about what you said. About Laurent.»

Percy hinted an intrigued smirk, but stayed quiet.

«I’ve decided to handle it my way.» Atlas said firmly. «You can stop worrying about it.»

Percy’s smile disappeared. «Excuse me?»

«You’ve heard me. I don’t need your advice, neither your warnings.»

Percy stared at him for a moment, then let out a short and humorless laugh. «So, that’s it? You’re just ignoring everything I told you?»

«Pretty much.»

Percy stepped closer and lowered his voice. «What if this blows up in your face? What if he causes another scandal and you are involved? You'd destroy your reputation forever.»

Atlas didn’t answer right away. He looked past Percy, out the hallway window, then met his eyes again.

«If that happens, I’ll deal with it. It’s none of your problem.»

Percy’s jaw clenched. «Do whatever you want, then…but don't say I didn't warn you. I was just trying to be helpful.»

«I know. But it’s easy to disguise control behind help.»

Percy didn’t respond to that. For a moment they just watched each other, silent, the tension humming in the empty hallway.

Finally, Atlas took a step back. «I should get to class.»

He brushed past Percy, not aggressively, but with enough weight in the gesture to make his point, and walked away without looking back.

He only hoped Percy wouldn’t start digging deeper…because if he ever found out the truth, it would be much worse than a simple argument in a hallway.

Percy’s eyes lingered on Atlas’s retreating figure. The sense of control he once held was slipping, and that terrified him more than he cared to admit. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

—

A few days later, after French Literature class, the corridor buzzed with students gathering their books and jackets. Amid the shuffle, Atlas spotted Laurent and hurried over, grinning from ear to ear.

«Hey!»

Laurent jumped a little. «God, you scared me.»

Atlas chuckled. «Forget the library today. I’ve got a better idea.»

Laurent frowned, intrigued but skeptical.

«You’ll see. Meet me outside the dining hall after lunch.»

When Laurent showed up, Atlas was already waiting with a bright grin.

«Good. Follow me.»

They climbed stairs Laurent had never taken before, down an empty corridor and into a tiny dusty closet with a spiral staircase.

«Seriously?» Laurent muttered.

Atlas just smirked. «Trust me.»

One missing step and a narrow climb later, they emerged into a small sunlit attic: slanted ceiling, dusty furniture, stacks of forgotten books. Light spilled from a wide window, making the air feel almost golden.

«Maybe a little dusty,» Atlas said, «but peaceful, right?»

Laurent looked around, smiling despite himself. «It’s…actually nice.»

They settled on the floor against the wall and began “studying”. Or at least Laurent did. Atlas spent more time watching him than reading. The way his curls caught the light, his glasses slipped down his nose as he scribbled notes. Atlas barely heard a word of the explanation he himself asked for.

After about half an hour, they finally took a break.

Atlas put his book aside and turned to Laurent. He hesitated a moment, his voice lower than before. «There's…something I haven’t told you.»

Laurent felt his heartbeat pick up. «I might already know what you’re going to say.»

Atlas blinked. «What—how?»

«You talked that night,» Laurent said, a faint, nervous smile on his lips. «After drinking. You mentioned Percy…and that you knew the truth.»

Atlas groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. «God…I knew I’d said something I shouldn’t have.»

«It’s fine,» Laurent murmured, then hesitated. His voice grew quieter. «But…how does Percy even know?»

Atlas’s expression shifted, a trace of shame there. «He…lived in Paisley back then. He saw it happen. He only saw you, though. That’s why nobody ever mentioned me.»

Laurent’s breath caught. His fingers tightened slightly around the book. «So…it wasn’t you who talked?»

Atlas shook his head immediately. «No. I’d never do that. I…I wanted to stay friends with you. But my father…» He trailed off, looking down. «He wouldn’t let me see you anymore.»

Laurent stared at him, unmoving. The certainty he’d carried for years cracked without warning, leaving a hollow he didn’t know how to fill. The weight in his chest held, but a thin thread of relief wound through it.

After a pause, Atlas said, «So…I guess you recognized me right away, didn’t you?»

Laurent lifted his eyes, surprised. «…Yes. The first day I heard your name, I looked at you and I just…knew.»

Atlas let out a soft breath, almost a laugh, but his eyes were tender. «And I didn’t even realize.»

«It’s okay,» Laurent murmured. «I always remember faces. Even when people forget mine.»

They shared a brief, fragile smile.

«You know, I didn’t…» Atlas stopped, searching for the right words. «I didn't think we'd ever see each other again. It feels…unreal.»

Laurent smiled faintly. «Yeah. I still thought about you, sometimes.»

«Me too. I was afraid you hated me.»

Laurent chuckled. «Just a little.»

Their laughter faded. The silence that followed was softer, almost tangible. Atlas’s gaze dropped to Laurent’s hand on the floor, and after a hesitant pause, he laid his own over it. His palm was warm.

Laurent’s breath caught, but he didn’t pull away. They stayed like that, looking at each other, words forgotten.

The quiet stretched, heavy with things unspoken, until Laurent glanced down at the open book beside him.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. «We…we should get back to studying.»

Atlas didn’t argue. He just nodded, though his hand lingered over Laurent’s a second longer before letting go. He returned his gaze to his book as well, but the words were blurred and his ears burned.

Suddenly, that memory forced its way to the surface.

—

A young Atlas was standing at the front door, impatiently putting on his coat to go out and play with Laurie. He hadn't said a word to his father about what had happened last time at the lake, because he was sure he would get angry.

Excited, he put his hand on the door handle when he heard a cold voice behind him, and the smile disappeared from his face. He turned slowly. It was his father.

«Where are you going?»

Atlas lowered his gaze. «Out…to play. I'll be back soon.»

«With who?»

Atlas swallowed. «Laurie. The one who's in my class.»

«You won’t.» his father said curtly.

«What–Why not?!»

The man approached, his face contorted with anger. «I don't want you to see him anymore. Do you have any idea how serious the rumours about him are?»

Atlas started to reply, but his father silenced him with a single glance.

«He's not a proper boy. If you keep seeing him, people will start talking about you too. Now take off your shoes and go back to your room.»

Atlas remembers standing still for a moment with his hand on the door handle, until it slowly slid down his side.

If there was one rule in that house, it was that his father's word was never to be questioned. So, from that day on, he never saw Laurent again.

Chapter Text

Apocalypse - Cigarettes After Sex (2017)

—

Matilda left the literature classroom clutching her books to her chest, her head slightly down. It had become a habit lately: whenever Laurent disappeared, he was almost always with Atlas. The thought gnawed at her, turning her quiet fear of being replaced into a creeping certainty.

The hallway was quiet, echoing with distant footsteps. Until familiar laughter rang out behind her, making her stomach drop. The third-year law students. Without Laurent by her side, she had no shield, no buffer.

«Look who’s here!» one of them called out.

Matilda kept walking, praying they would get bored, but a boy quickly stepped in front of her, blocking her way.

«Where are you going, Mary?»

She tightened her hold on her books. «…It’s Matilda. I was just…looking for a friend.»

«Oh, yeah? Then we’ll help you look for him.» He smirked and gestured to the others, clearly performing for their amusement.

«It’s…not necessary,» she whispered. «Please, I have to go.»

She tried to sidestep him, but his arm shot out, barring her way. His eyes fell to her books.

«What do you have there?»

«Nothing…just school stuff.»

«So you won’t mind if I take a look.» He reached for them.

Matilda stepped back, clutching her books tighter, her face burning. The boy laughed under his breath, offended at her refusal.

«Hiding something, Mary?»

She didn’t answer, her voice too small. «I really have to go.»

He finally stepped aside, letting her pass, only to ram his shoulder into hers as she did. Her books tumbled to the floor with a loud clap as the laughter followed her like a shadow.

Matilda crouched to pick them up, face red with humiliation, aware of the students around who were staring but not moving a finger to help.

Until a firm female voice sliced through the hallway.

«What the hell, Connor?»

Matilda froze and looked up. A tall girl with long dark hair was striding toward them, her expression sharp as a blade. She crouched, picked up a book, and handed it to Matilda before standing to face the boy.

«Really? Dropping first-years’ books? What are you, eleven?»

«Inès.» he said, smirking like it was all a game.

«Yeah, and I’ll be the Inès who makes you swallow these books one by one if you don’t leave. Right now.»

Connor raised his hands in mock surrender, laughing as he turned away.

Inès exhaled and turned back to Matilda, her expression softening instantly. «Sorry you had to deal with that. He’s an idiot.» She handed her the last book. «I’m Inès.»

Matilda hugged her books closer, still flushed. «Matilda. And…not Mary.»

Inès chuckled. «Nice to meet you, Not Mary.»

Matilda let out a small laugh, almost surprised by the sound of her own voice.

«He won’t bother you if I’m around,» Inès said, her tone lower now. «But next time, try telling him off. He deserves it.»

Matilda nodded shyly. «I…will try.»

As Inès walked her partway down the hall, Matilda’s steps felt a little steadier. For the first time that day, she didn’t feel completely invisible.

—

Two days later, after philosophy class, Laurent was slowly putting his books away, letting the minutes drag by. The sunlight through the tall windows cast long shadows across the desk. He didn’t even need to look up to know who had left the note—Atlas had just passed by, that familiar smirk teasing the corners of his lips.

Laurent shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips, and unfolded the note carefully.

Meet me on the third floor. Four o’clock.

He folded it back up and slipped it into his pocket, feeling a quiet flutter in his chest.

When he arrived later that afternoon, Atlas was already leaning against the door to the attic stairs, arms crossed casually, waiting.

«Thanks for the reminder.» Laurent said softly.

«No problem,» Atlas replied with a grin that didn’t quite reach the usual ease in his voice. «Come on.»

They climbed the narrow stairs together, and settled side by side on the dusty attic floor. The silence stretched for a moment, heavy but not uncomfortable.

«I really don’t feel like studying,» Atlas murmured after a while, tracing circles on the worn wood with his fingers. «Do you know how long till exams?»

«A week, I think.» Laurent replied without looking up.

«I’m doomed.» Atlas sighed, a little louder, letting his head fall back against the wall.

«You’ll make it,» Laurent said. «You’ve got the best tutor you could ask for.»

Atlas smirked. «Can’t argue with that.»

They tried to focus, the scratch of pencil on paper and the occasional turning of pages filling the attic. But Atlas kept glancing at Laurent, distracted by more than just study.

Suddenly, Laurent winced.

«Ouch.»

Atlas immediately looked up, concern flashing across his face.

«What happened?»

«Nothing, just a splinter. This floor’s awful,» Laurent muttered, trying to brush it off.

«Let me see.»

Before Laurent could protest, Atlas had taken his hand gently, studying his finger with mock-seriousness. Carefully, he removed the splinter and held it up triumphantly.

«There. No infections for you.»

Laurent’s lips twitched into a small smile. «…Thanks.»

Their hands remained close a heartbeat too long. Atlas’s gaze found his, steady and intent, and suddenly Laurent felt the air in the room change. Warm, heavy, expectant.

Suddenly, he sprang to his feet and stepped to the middle of the room.

«Atlas, please stop.» His voice trembled, but he tried to hide it. «You’re doing it again.»

«Doing what?» Atlas retorted, walking to him.

«Looking at me like that. It…it makes everything harder.»

Atlas ran a hand over his face, then let out a shaky laugh.

«Harder for you? God, I’m literally going crazy. Every time I try to act normal, it just…it doesn’t work. I can’t.»

Laurent’s eyes darted away. «...It'll pass.»

Atlas stepped a fraction closer, shoulders tense, but his gaze didn’t waver.

«You really think it could just pass?» he said softly, yet with a firmness that pressed against the space between them. «I…I just…I like you, Laurent, alright? I really do. And it’s not just because you’re…you know.» His voice faltered for a moment, hands twisting at his sides. «It’s more than that. It’s just…everyone here feels so fake. Fake smiles, fake words. And then there’s you. You’re the only one who feels real to me.»

«You shouldn’t say this.»

«Maybe not, but it’s the truth. I know it’s dangerous, I know it’s risky…but that doesn’t change the way I feel.»

Atlas took a step ahead.

«Tell me to back off, and I will. But don’t lie to me, Laurent. Not about this.»

The room fell silent, every sound swallowed by the weight of his words. Laurent’s chest ached with the pressure of them, with the truth he’d tried so hard to bury. He knew that if he stayed still, if he ran again, he’d regret it forever.

So he moved. Two quick steps, and his hands were on Atlas’s face, pulling him into a kiss. It was brief, almost clumsy, but it was real.

When he pulled back, Atlas just stared at him. Their eyes held for a moment, fragile and electric, and then Atlas’s hand slid up to the back of Laurent’s neck, pulling him in again.

That second kiss deepened. Slower, unsure at first, their mouths brushing, parting, then returning with growing intent. Laurent’s fingers curled into Atlas’s hair, while Atlas’s hand rested at his waist, steady.

For Laurent, it was a rush that left him almost breathless: the closeness, the weight of Atlas’s touch. His heart hammered so hard it almost hurt, but underneath the fear was something steadier: the realization that being with Atlas didn’t feel wrong at all.

For Atlas, it was grounding, like finding solid ground after drifting too long. Every flicker of hesitation from Laurent made him want to hold him tighter, to show him he was safe here, that he didn’t have to hide.

They adjusted in unspoken ways—the tilt of a head, the brush of a nose—until the hesitation eased into something natural. Not perfect, but theirs. The kind of imperfect that carried its own truth, one they both recognized without needing to say a word.

Their mouths parted slowly, and neither moved at first, just lingering in the quiet aftermath.

Laurent rested his forehead against Atlas’s, his voice low, tense.

«We’re risking a lot, you know that?»

Atlas swallowed, his fingers tightening around Laurent’s.

«I don’t care. Not when it comes to you.»

Chapter Text

Inès was walking down the library corridor, looking for a book for the next day's exam, when she suddenly froze. Percy. He was bent over a shelf, a book in his hand, and none of his friends were around, except for Edward, who was studying quietly at a table.

Inès hesitated, instinctively hiding behind a shelf. Seeing him there made her stomach tighten: they hadn't spoken since their argument. When he started moving, she straightened up and pretended to browse the books, hoping he would just walk past.

His steps drew closer, and a moment later he appeared at her side, scanning the same shelf. Inès tensed and immediately made to leave, but he spoke first.

«There's no need to run away,» he said in a low voice, almost casual. «I'm just putting this back.» He lifted the book, as if to prove his innocence.

«No, I...I wasn't running away.» she replied, trying to sound as resolute as possible, though her voice was trembling.

A heavy silence fell between the shelves. Percy watched her from the corner of his eye, as if weighing what to say, or what to do next.

Inès reached out to grab a volume just as he did the same, making their fingers brush against each other.

«Sorry,» she murmured, pulling away immediately.

Percy handed her the book, his movements unhurried. «Here. You need it more than I do.»

Inès accepted it, but this time she looked him straight in the eyes. «I don't want any favours.»

He sighed. «It's not a favour. It's...just a book.»

But the way he steadily looked at her, made her feel as if she owed him something anyway.

Inès pursed her lips, then murmured, «I'm already stressed enough about this exam, I don't need...anything else.»

«I know you'll pass this one too,» said Percy, a faint smile crossing his face. «You've always been the best of them all. Do you remember the first time we spoke? We were here, and you shut me off because I was disturbing you.»

«And maybe I shouldn't have stopped.» she replied, a flash of irony in her eyes.

Percy looked down, his voice almost bitter. «Yeah. Maybe.»

For a moment, they stood still, facing each other, as if suspended between the past and the present. Then Inès clutched the book to her chest.

«Have a good day, Percy.»

She turned and walked away with a determined stride, leaving him alone among the shelves, her heart beating faster than she wanted to admit. Percy watched her until she disappeared, then leaned back against the shelf with a long sigh.

—

The next day was the dreaded first exam of the year. Laurent hadn't slept a wink, his stomach in knots, while Atlas had gone to bed as if nothing were happening.

Early that morning, Laurent left the dormitory, books clutched under his arm, intending to get some breakfast. Turning the corner of the main hallway, he spotted Atlas coming down the stairs with one of his roommates.

The moment their eyes met, Atlas's face lit up. He said something quick to his friend and immediately walked over.

«Hey,» he greeted warmly, tilting his head slightly as he studied Laurent's face. «You're nervous, huh?»

«Of course I am. It's...a big deal.» His voice was quiet, strained.

Atlas smiled softly. «You've been studying for weeks. You literally know everything. I should be the one panicking, not you.»

Laurent let out a shaky laugh. «If only it worked like that...I mean, what if I blank out the moment I see the paper? Or...mess up because of nerves?»

«What if you don't? Usually the things we fear most turn out better than we expect.» Atlas' voice was calm, comforting.

Laurent glanced at the floor, chewing on his lip, but his voice softened. «I hope you're right. I just...don't want to disappoint anyone.»

«You won't.»

Laurent exhaled, shoulders still tense but a little lighter. «Maybe I should at least eat something before I collapse.»

Atlas's smile softened. «Hold on, you have—» He reached out and adjusted Laurent's crooked collar with both hands.

Laurent froze, eyes widening. «Atlas!» he hissed, stepping back as if the contact burned him.

Atlas blinked, realizing only then how instinctive that gesture had been. Both of them glanced around the hallway, cheeks heating, and immediately tried to act as if nothing had happened.

«Uh—y‑yeah,» Atlas muttered, clearing his throat. «You'd better go get that breakfast.»

Laurent nodded stiffly and adjusted his shirt himself. «See you later.» he murmured before walking away.

Atlas lingered for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck.

Down the hall, Inès lowered the book she was holding. She had seen everything: the casual touch, the way they jumped apart, the nervous glances. For the first time, her vague suspicions started to feel like certainty.

Laurent reached the Dining Hall and sat alone at a table, his cup of tea steaming in front of him. He stirred it absentmindedly, trying to settle his heartbeat after the strange moment in the hallway.

«Good morning.»

He looked up to see Inès sliding on the bench in front of him. She studied his face, one brow arched.

«You look like you've already taken the exam...and failed it.»

Laurent let out a soft huff. «Thanks. Exactly what I needed to hear.»

Inès smirked. «I'm serious. You're pale as a ghost.»

«...I didn't sleep much.»

«Understandable. Half the people here look ready to faint.» She sipped her coffee, then added casually, «I saw you with Atlas earlier. He looked...suspiciously relaxed.»

Laurent froze for half a second, then shrugged. «That's just him. He doesn't worry about things the way I do.»

«Mmh.» She didn't press, but her eyes lingered on him for a moment longer before turning back to her breakfast.

—

Elizabeth walked along the pavement, her steps slow and measured. She had spent the last three weeks thinking about what to do, and now, with her heart heavy but decided, she was on her way to Elliot's workshop. She had written him a letter two days earlier asking to meet.

When she reached the garage, she paused under the porch. A moment later, Elliot's boss peeked out from behind the curtain and gave her a knowing smile.

«Here again? I'll get him for you.»

Elliot appeared shortly after, wiping his hands on a rag, surprise and hope flashing in his eyes.

«Elizabeth...hey.»

«Hey,» she replied.

He told her to wait outside, and in a couple of minutes joined her by the low wall. For a few seconds they said nothing, the air heavy with unspoken words.

«Did you get my letter?» Elizabeth asked.

«I did. You said you wanted to talk.»

She nodded, twisting her fingers together. «I've thought about...everything. And I don't want my past with Atlas to keep me from being happy. I want...I really want to be with you, Elliot.»

A faint, relieved smile crossed his face. «I'm glad to hear that. But...what about your father?»

Elizabeth exhaled, folding her arms. «He still wants me to marry Atlas. I'm tired of living by his rules. I've never told you this, but...It's his fault that I can't study. What good is a woman, right, if she's smart and doesn't obey men?» She smiled bitterly.

Elliot's expression darkened. «That's wrong. You're brilliant, Elizabeth. You deserve to make your own choices. I'd never want to decide for you. I just want to be there, if you'll let me.»

His gaze dropped to her hand resting on the wall. Hesitant, he placed his hand over hers and intertwined their fingers. The simple warmth of that gesture melted some of the tension inside her.

«Thank you.» she whispered, resting her head lightly on his shoulder.

They stayed like that in silence, the wind and rustling leaves their only witness.

At last, Elizabeth pulled back slightly. «You have to get back to work, don't you?»

«Technically, yes,» he chuckled, «but...we'll see each other tomorrow?»

She nodded. «Tomorrow.»

Elizabeth walked away, her heart lighter than it had been in weeks. Elliot stayed there, watching her until she turned the corner, before finally going back inside with a quiet smile.

Chapter Text

November was almost over, and with exams behind them, the atmosphere at the university felt calmer than it had in weeks.

Inès was walking down the hallway when she spotted Matilda lingering near a doorway. She approached her with a small, knowing smile.

«Hey, Matilda.»

«Oh...hi.» Matilda returned the smile, though it was timid, almost hesitant. «I didn't expect to see you here.»

«I was just passing by. How are you?» Inès asked, falling into step beside her.

Matilda hesitated, twisting the edge of her sleeve between her fingers. «I'm... fine, thanks.» Her voice wavered slightly, and Inès caught it immediately, noticing the subtle tension in her shoulders.

«By the way... have those jerks from the other day left you alone?» Inès asked gently, careful not to sound patronizing.

Matilda nodded quickly, relief flickering in her eyes. «Yes. I meant to thank you again for that..»

Inès crossed her arms, a small frown forming. «They shouldn't have needed a third-year to scare them off. But I'm glad it worked.»

A brief silence fell. Matilda's gaze dropped to the floor, and she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. After a moment, she asked softly, almost reluctantly, «Have you seen Laurent, by chance? I've been looking for him.»

«I saw him earlier,» Inès replied, keeping her tone light but attentive. «He was with that blond guy he's always with.»

Matilda's expression dimmed, a shadow crossing her features. «Of course,» she muttered under her breath, almost to herself. «Every time.»

Inès gave her a reassuring nudge on the arm, subtle but deliberate. «If it bothers you, you should tell Laurent. He's kind...but sometimes completely oblivious.»

Matilda gave a small nod, her gaze still cast downward. She didn't answer, but her fingers lingered on the strap of her bag.

As they parted ways a few seconds later, Matilda walked off slowly, shoulders slightly hunched, lost in thought. Inès watched her go, a soft frown creasing her brow. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was more beneath the surface between Laurent and Atlas than anyone was letting on—and that Matilda felt it too.

—

A particularly boring philosophy lesson had just ended, and Laurent was walking out of the classroom next to Matilda when he froze. The vice-principal was waiting for him in the hallway.

«Mr. Sinclaire,» she said in a strangely gentle tone. «Would you follow me to my office?»

Laurent felt a shiver run down his spine. He glanced at Matilda, who gave him a questioning look, then nodded and followed. His heart was racing. He racked his brain for any misstep that could have brought him here. Had someone discovered something about him and Atlas? No...it couldn't be possible.

The walk to the office felt endless. Once inside, the vice-principal invited him to sit.

«Mr. Sinclaire,» she began solemnly, «I'm afraid I have some serious news. It concerns a member of your family.»

A knot tightened in Laurent's throat. «What...what happened?»

«This morning, around seven o'clock, your uncle, Mr. Charles Sinclaire, passed away after a sudden illness.»

Laurent stared at her, stunned. His thoughts scattered in all directions. An illness? So suddenly? His first thought went to Inès: he couldn't imagine how she had taken it. As for himself, grief was dulled by the weight of what this meant for the family.

The vice-principal's voice softened. «I'm sorry for your loss.»

«And...Inès?» Laurent asked immediately.

«She was informed a couple of hours ago. She went to pack her things and she'll be away from school for some time.»

Laurent nodded silently, tension pressing on his chest.

«If you need support, don't hesitate to ask.» she concluded with a faint, formal smile.

Laurent left the office, head spinning. The hallway felt colder than usual. Suddenly, Atlas's head appeared from the bathroom door, making Laurent jolt.

«God, Atlas—» he gasped, clutching his chest.

Atlas stepped fully out, grabbed him gently by the wrist, and pulled him inside.

«What happened?» he asked, his tone concerned. «Are you okay?»

Laurent sighed. «This morning my uncle fell ill and...he passed away. That's not the real problem...I'm just worried about Inès. She must be devastated. Not to mention the mess this will bring to the whole family.»

«Shit...I'm sorry.» Atlas murmured.

«Yeah...it's awful. I guess my father will send me a letter soon about the funeral and...all that stuff.» He paused. «I don't want to go back home and deal with him again. I've been so good here these months...with you.»

Atlas smiled. «So have I. Very much so.» He lowered his head and grabbed Laurent's hand, then went back to look at him.

«But you're stronger than you think. Even if it's hard, I'll be here for you. You'll go home, do what you have to do with the funeral and your family, and then come back. And when you do, I'll be here, like nothing ever changed.»

Laurent nodded faintly. «Yeah, I hope so. Thank you.» Then he glanced at his wristwatch. «I think I'd better go now...»

«Do you have to?» Atlas murmured, resting a hand on his hip and pulling him closer. He gave him a tender, almost pleading glance, as if begging him to stay.

Laurent chuckled. «Unfortunately, yes.»

«Come on, we'll skip class and go to the attic together.»

«Yeah...then you deal with Mrs. Johnson, not me.» Laurent replied, letting out a soft laugh. «That one will kick your ass.»

Atlas laughed too, then leaned in and brushed a gentle kiss against his lips. «You're lucky this time. Let's meet this afternoon.»

Laurent nodded before slipping out of the bathroom, hurrying down the hallway so he wouldn't actually be late. Atlas stayed a few minutes longer before leaving, the warmth of Laurent's presence lingering on his skin.

A few steps down the corridor, that warmth turned cold. He spotted Laurent talking with a slender, red haired figure—Percy. A pulse of irritation rose in his chest. That bastard had no right to be near him, not when everything was finally going so well. Atlas swallowed, his pace quickening as he closed the distance, sliding in front of Laurent like a shield.

«What do you want, Percy?» His voice was low, almost a hiss.

Percy laughed, unfazed. «How rude. I wasn't talking to you, anyway.»

Atlas opened his mouth to retort, but Laurent tapped his arm, silently asking him to let it go. Atlas then took a step back, without taking his eyes off Percy.

«What is it? Make it quick.» Laurent asked, folding his arms.

«I heard about Inès' father. I just wanted to know where she is. If...she's alright.»

Laurent blinked, a little surprised. «She's at home. She's...fine. That's all you need to know.»

Percy hesitated. «Do you know when she'll be back?»

«...No. But not before Christmas.»

Percy nodded and gave a tight, forced smile. «Thanks.»

Without another word, he walked away, not sparing Atlas a glance.

As soon as he was far enough, Laurent exhaled and murmured, «Don't do that in front of him. He'll get suspicious.»

Atlas ran a hand through his hair. «You're right...sorry. I just can't stand him.»

Laurent's lips curved in a faint, knowing smile. «I know. But don't let him get to you.»

That look eased the heat in Atlas' chest. They fell silent for a moment, and as they started walking again, he reached out and brushed a bit of imaginary dust from Laurent's sleeve, letting their fingers touch for the briefest moment.

Laurent glanced at him, and his stern expression softened. «You're impossible.»

—

A couple of days after the news, Laurent received his father's letter with the funeral details. He'd leave the university on December 12th in the early afternoon, the funeral would be held the next morning at 10:00, and he would return to Glasgow on the 14th. Only three days away: he could survive that.

The dreaded day came faster than Laurent would have liked. Before leaving for the station, he met Atlas in the attic. He kept checking his wristwatch over and over, nervously. Atlas noticed and stepped closer, resting his hands on his shoulders.

«Stop staring at your watch.»

«I can't,» he muttered, voice tight. «Everything feels...unsteady... and my chest won't stop racing.»

Atlas grabbed Laurent's hands, holding his gaze a moment longer than usual.

«Just breathe with me, okay? I know it sounds stupid...but it works.»

He inhaled slowly, held it, then exhaled. Laurent closed his eyes, matching his rhythm, three careful breaths in a row.

«Better?» Atlas asked softly.

«A little...yeah.»

Atlas noticed the slight pause, the subtle fidget of Laurent's fingers. He stepped a fraction closer, voice gentle.

«...Laurent.»

Laurent's eyes dropped, a small breath escaping him. His chest rose and fell unevenly.

«I just... I need you to hug me,» he murmured, almost shyly. «...Please.»

Atlas let out a soft chuckle, making the tension in Laurent's chest ease immediately.

«You don't even have to ask me.»

He pulled him close, wrapping him in a firm, warm embrace. Laurent pressed his face into the crook of his neck, holding on tight. The warmth seeped into him, steadying the tremor in his chest. His hands clutched at Atlas's shirt, as if afraid the moment might slip away.

For a long minute, the attic was silent, the world outside forgotten.

Laurent's voice came out in a small, hesitant murmur. «I... I haven't... been held like this...in years.» he admitted, barely audible.

Atlas tightened his arms just a little, letting him feel the steadiness and safety.

«I'm not going anywhere, alright?»

Laurent exhaled, letting the tension leave his shoulders. The simple act of being held, of being needed, was enough to calm him.

They slowly eased apart, though Atlas's hand lingered, brushing gently against Laurent's cheek. His thumb traced the line of his skin before their eyes met again.

«I just wish you could come with me.» Laurent murmured.

Atlas' gaze has fixed on him, tender and heavy. «So do I. But remember what you told me once? Even if you can't see me, I'm still with you. Always.»

Laurent's brows rose. «I didn't think you'd remembered that.»

«You should take your own advice once in a while.» Atlas said with a quiet laugh. «When this is over, come straight up to the attic. I'll be there. We can spend the whole day reading, talking—whatever comes. I promise.»

«That sounds nice.» Laurent replied. Then he glanced at his watch and jolted. «God, I really have to go.»

«You'll be fine.» Atlas said, pressing a kiss to his forehead. «Good luck.»

«Thanks...I just hope luck will be enough.»

Then, without another word, he picked up his suitcase and stepped out of the attic. As the door closed softly behind him, a quiet stillness settled in the room, as if the space itself was holding its breath, waiting for his return.

Chapter Text

! WARNING !

This chapter contains a scene of domestic violence. It's not particularly graphic or violent, but I feel it is important to warn you anyway. Please, remember to stay away from triggering content and always protect your mental health.

—

Family Line - Conan Gray (2022)

—

Once he reached the front door of the house, Laurent froze. Anxiety gripped him, making it hard to move forward. He took three deep breaths, just like Atlas had taught him, then rang the bell.

The door opened almost immediately, revealing the maid, who greeted him with a warm smile.

«Mr. Sinclaire, long time no see. Come in, everyone's been waiting for you.»

As soon as he stepped inside, a cold draft hit him. The same ice he remembered from three months ago. The fire was lit, the temperature pleasant, yet the house felt hollow. He had missed none of it.

His mother appeared suddenly and approached him. Then, unexpectedly, she embraced him. Laurent stood still, surprised. When she pulled away, he caught the sadness in her vacant eyes and fragile smile.

«Oh, Laurent, long time no see...» she whispered, almost tearful. «You've been missed. How are you?»

His heart ached at her brokenness, more fragile than ever before. «I'm fine, Mom. And you?»

She forced a smile. «I'm fine too. Glad you're back.»

Laurent returned the smile, though something felt off about her.

A voice from the stairs suddenly froze his blood. His father's. Laurent noticed his mother flinch, more than usual.

«Well, look who's here," he said, descending slowly. His mother stepped back silently.

Laurent swallowed hard. «Good morning, Father. »

The man's hand shot out, gripping Laurent's neck tightly. He gasped but forced himself not to show fear.

«So, have you behaved yourself these last months?»

Laurent forced a smile. «Very well. I even got top marks in my exams. »

«Good,» his father replied coldly. «Then keep it up. I'm busy now, go to your room.»

Laurent nodded silently, handed his suitcase to the maid and followed her upstairs.

Then, he gathered courage and asked,

«Are the others home?»

«Yes, but they're upset about... well, you know. They rarely leave their rooms.»

«Is Inès here?»

«Do you want to see her?» the maid asked. «Be careful. It's delicate.»

When they reached Laurent's room, the maid handed him his suitcase. It had been three months since he'd last been here, but the room no longer felt like his. Everything was just as he'd left it, almost untouched.

He dropped his suitcase at the foot of the bed and stood still, staring around. Then he pulled a folded note from his pocket: a torn page corner with Matilda's elegant handwriting:

The worst kind of pain is the kind you can't explain.

A heavy weight settled in his chest. He smiled bitterly, realizing he'd been so caught up in his own struggles that he hadn't told Matilda what happened. He missed their time together, but his relationship with Atlas consumed his energy. He wondered how lonely she must feel now, with neither him nor Inès around.

Taking a deep breath, he approached Inès's door and knocked softly.

«Who...who is it?» a shaky voice asked.

«It's Laurent,» he replied gently.

The door opened almost immediately. Inès appeared, disheveled and tear-streaked, dressed simply. Her eyes were red and swollen, and the quiet tremble in her lips said more than words ever could. She didn't hesitate: she leaned into him, arms wrapping around his waist.

He held her close, letting her bury her face in his neck. After a few long moments, she pulled back just enough to murmur,

«...I've been waiting for you.»

«I'm here,» he whispered, pressing a hand against the back of her head.

«I'm sorry...I didn't mean for you to have to come back here. I'm sure you'd rather be at university,» she admitted, voice small and uncertain.

«Don't say that,» he replied quickly. «I came for you. Do you...want me to stay?»

«Yes...please. I need someone here.»

Laurent gave a small, reassuring smile.

«Alright. I can read you a book if you want...maybe it'll help you relax.»

«That would be nice,» she whispered, a faint smile breaking through. «Thank you.»

He settled on the edge of the bed, back against the wall, and she curled up beside him, letting her head rest on his shoulder.

He picked up the book from the nightstand, opening it slowly. His voice was soft and steady as he read, a gentle rhythm that gradually eased the tension in the room.

Her breathing slowly evened out, the warmth of his presence and the soft brush of his hand through her hair lulling her toward sleep. Laurent watched her for a moment, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, before letting the quiet settle around them, calm and protective.

—

The next morning, the family set out for the village's cemetery.

When Laurent woke up, he dressed quietly, careful not to disturb anyone, and lingered for a moment by the window, watching the first pale light of dawn stretch across the snowy fields.

The drive was tense, silent. Laurent tried to calm himself, eyes fixed on the winter landscape rushing past the window.

Once they arrived, there was a flurry of greetings and brief hugs with the other mourners. Then everyone gathered around the spot where Mr. Sinclaire would be buried.

Laurent, his parents, Inès, her little sister, and her mother stood closest to the coffin. When it was opened, revealing Charles Sinclaire's pale, expressionless face, Inès' little sister covered her eyes and sobbed into her mother's arms. Inès pressed a handkerchief to her face, and her mother also wept quietly. Laurent's father, however, remained impassive. A sudden wave of nausea hit Laurent. He couldn't understand how his father could be so unaffected about his own brother's death.

A few words were spoken in honor of the deceased, prayers were said, and then the coffin was closed and lowered into the ground.

—

That evening, the family gathered for dinner. The silence was heavy, suffocating, broken only by the scrape of cutlery on plates. Laurent sat rigid, eyes on his food, barely noticing the meal before him.

Finally, Mr. Sinclaire cleared his throat, calm and measured, yet with an unmistakable edge that made everyone flinch inwardly.

«Laurent, it's good to have you back. I'd hoped that your time away would have helped you grow...become more confident.»

Laurent kept his eyes lowered, chewing slowly.

His father continued, «But you still carry yourself as you did before...shoulders hunched, gaze averted. I wonder what's holding you back.»

Laurent's grip tightened around his fork, but he said nothing.

His father sighed. «I don't want to be harsh, but I'm concerned. You're capable of so much more...You just have to show it.»

Laurent's eyes flicked up, meeting his father's briefly.

«...I'm doing my best.»

His father nodded weakly. «If you say so.»

The rest of the dinner passed without further words. When it ended, Laurent stood up quietly and excused himself. He walked up the stairs to his room, closing the door behind him.

Moments later, as he was about to go to the bathroom, raised voices drifted down the hallway. His father's sharp and tense tone made his heartbeat quicken.

«Why are you protecting him? He's always been weak.»

His mother's reply came trembling, fearful. «He's your son. Please, don't—»

Suddenly a loud thud echoed, followed by a silence so thick it made Laurent's blood run cold. To his ears, that was an all too familiar sound. Heart pounding, he crept toward his parents' bedroom door, which was barely open. Peering inside, he froze.

His mother was on the floor, trembling and crying, her hands stained with blood. His father stood over her, clutching a bloodied clock, arm raised. Laurent's breath caught in his throat.

«Look who's here.» his father said, voice cold.

«What...what did you do?» Laurent stammered.

«Don't just stand there,» his father replied, his tone low and menacing, «are you going to let this go on?»

Suddenly, Laurent lost control. He shoved his father hard against the headboard and stepped in front of his mother. She screamed, begging him to leave, but he planted himself between them.

His father grinned. «Finally showing some backbone. Took you long enough. »

«You're sick.» Laurent spat.

His eyes flicked to the clock on the floor. Metal glinting, its face smeared. For a second, impossibly, the idea crossed his mind: pick it up, hit him. The years of pain, the bruises, the humiliation...it could vanish in a single blow. The image shocked him, a mix of desire and horror, and recoiled as quickly as it came.

Sudden footsteps approached, and the door opened. Inès appeared first, eyes wide and frightened, followed by his mother and the maid. The maid quickly gestured for Inès' mother to help Ms Sinclaire away.

Then, used to that kind of situation, she turned to Laurent. «Come here. »

Laurent cast one last glance at his father before walking away. He reached his room and tossed his clothes in the suitcase as Inès followed him, standing at the doorway.

«Laurent...Laurent, where are you going? What happened?» she asked, tears sliding down her cheeks.

«It's not...It's not the right time, Inès. » he murmured, now standing in front of her. «I have to go. »

He pushed her aside, not giving her time to reply, and hurried down the stairs.

At the door, he stepped out into the night, mind numb and heart heavy. The cold air hit his face like a slap, and for a moment he just stood there, breathing hard. Then his legs started moving on their own. He walked fast through the empty streets of Livingstone, the echo of his footsteps mixing with the whisper of the wind.
Images kept flashing in his head: his mother on the floor, trembling, blood slipping through her fingers. His father, still holding that clock, his face lit with that awful half-smile. Inès in the doorway, wide-eyed and terrified. And himself, shoving her aside, his voice cold and unrecognizable.

He kept going, block after block, as if distance alone could dissolve the scene. Only when his legs began to ache did he stop, finding himself outside an inn nearly half an hour from his house. It was past nine, and he prayed they would grant him a bed, even if he wasn't sure he had enough money. Eventually, they gave him the shabbiest room, but he didn't care. Anywhere was better than home.

Lying on the hard mattress in his pajamas, he stared at the moldy ceiling. The silence pressed down on him, leaving him alone with the echo of his father's voice. Maybe this was who he was becoming. His father's son. The way his voice had sounded—sharp, merciless—still rang in his ears. The real Laurent, or the one he thought he was, would never have done that. Then again, hadn't his father once been someone else too?

He tried to steady his breath, but instead tears stung his eyes. He rolled onto his side, curling up in the narrow bed as though it might shield him. But the scene returned anyway, merciless, replaying in every detail.

Chapter Text

Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby - Cigarettes After Sex (2012)

--

When Laurent returned to the university, he headed straight for the attic. He hoped, irrationally, that Atlas would already be there, waiting for him. But the room was empty.

He glanced at his wristwatch. Ten o' clock. Of course. He told him he wouldn't be back before eleven. He didn't feel like going anywhere else, so he lowered himself to the floor, back against the wall. The attic felt colder than usual. He tried to steady his breathing, even though the memory of the night before pressed against his chest.

And he waited.

Atlas had just parked his car and was sprinting across the courtyard. He checked his watch and cursed under his breath. Elizabeth's mother had called insistently that morning, begging him to come to Paisley to «talk things over« about the marriage. Against his better judgment, he'd gone. And now he was late.

After climbing all the stairs, panting, he pushed the attic door open.

«Shit.» he muttered, out of breath.

Laurent's head snapped toward him, his voice cold. «You're late.»

«I know, I'm sorry. Something...came up. I thought you wouldn't be here yet.»

Laurent shrugged and looked away. «Doesn't matter.» He turned his back slightly, as if to end the conversation.

Atlas frowned. «Hey...what's wrong?»

«I'm fine.»

«I know you're lying.»

Laurent sighed and pressed his forehead against his knees. «I just...I can't do this right now.»

Atlas hesitated, then turned the key in the lock and slid it into his pocket. «Then we're not leaving until you talk to me.»

Laurent glared at him, his shoulders slumped in defeat. Atlas slowly sat beside him.

«I don't even know where to start,« Laurent whispered. «It's...a mess.»

«Tell me.» Atlas murmured, searching for his gaze.

Laurent's throat tightened. «My father...he's always hated what I am. Since I was a kid, he's called me weak, not a real man...whatever that means.» He paused, fingers twisting in his lap. «I guess it's time to tell you what happened when he found out...well...about us. Twelve years ago.»

Atlas reached out and touched his hand. He didn't speak, but his eyes reassured Laurent just enough for him to keep talking.

—

A door slammed behind him. Laurent stopped suddenly in the middle of the corridor, his blood running cold. That sound never boded well.

«Is it true what I heard?» his father's deep voice boomed. «Did you kiss a boy from school?»

Laurent turned slowly, his eyes downcast. «It was...it was just a game.» he replied, his little voice trembling.

His father laughed. A nasty laugh. «A game?» He quickly approached and grabbed his son by the wrist with all his strength. Laurent's eyes filled with tears, but he tried to hold them back.

«Is that what you call it? Kissing a boy like a–» He stopped, furious. «From now on, you are not allowed to leave this house. No more friends, no more school. You'll stay here and take private lessons.»

Laurent wanted to reply, but nothing but a faint, muffled sound came out of his mouth. By now, he started violently sobbing.

His father sighed bitterly, «What are you doing now? Crying?» He gripped Laurent's wrist even tighter and dragged him up the stairs. «Now I'll show you. Forget about Paisley, we're moving soon. To a place where no one knows your name.»

Laurent's vision blurred, the stairs twisted before him. He felt smaller than ever.

—

Laurent's voice trembled as he returned to the present.

«When I went home...seeing him again, it crushed me. At dinner, he humiliated me in front of everyone, like always. I tried to endure it. Then later...I heard him and my mother fighting. I went to look and—»

His voice broke. Atlas reached for him without hesitation, pulling him against his chest. Laurent could feel the frantic beat of Atlas's heart under his ear, the warmth of his arms holding on tightly.

«He...he hit my mother, Atlas,» Laurent choked, trembling. «...I—I... I stood in front of her... and...I pushed him. There was a...a moment...an impulse...to strike him...and...it was...frightening.»

Atlas's breath caught. His hand moved through Laurent's hair, but his voice shook as he whispered, «My God...I'm so sorry you went through that. It's okay...I'm here.»

Laurent pressed himself closer, clutching at Atlas's waist as if to anchor himself.

«I'm...scared of myself,« he whispered. «I just...what if I'm just like him?»

«Don't—don't even say that,» Atlas said quickly, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes. His own gaze was fierce, almost desperate. «You are nothing like him. Don't even think about it. You protected your mother, you stopped him. That's what matters.»

Laurent's dark eyes shimmered with tears, searching his face. «Really?»

«Yes,» Atlas said, his thumb brushing along his knuckles. His voice was low but steadier now. «You were brave. Better than you realize. And maybe...maybe you needed to feel that anger. After everything he's done to you.»

Laurent's tears blurred his vision as he rubbed at his face with his sleeve. «I think Inès was...afraid of me. And my mother...I just left her. I ran away, like always.»

Atlas tightened his arms around him, his voice unsteady. «Hey...you didn't run. You couldn't stay, not after that. Anyone would have left.» He pressed his lips briefly to Laurent's hair, a trembling gesture more than a confident one. «You're not alone in this anymore. Not ever.»

Laurent slowly closed his eyes, his body finally giving in. He curled against Atlas, feeling each small movement: the rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his skin, the gentle pressure of his hands holding him close. His breathing slowed, the tiny tremors fading. For the first time in days, he felt a small, fragile peace. Within minutes, he was asleep, and Atlas held him there, his own heart heavy but full of quiet determination.

—

The snow fell slowly, covering the park in a soft white blanket. Elizabeth walked a few steps behind Elliot, shaping a small snowball in her gloved hand. With a sudden grin, she tossed it at his coat.

«Hey!» Elliot exclaimed, spinning around. He crouched to scoop up some snow, quickly shaping his own snowball. «You don't want to start this war. I have years of experience.»

Elizabeth laughed and dodged his throw with ease. «Years of experience, huh?»

«I'm just...a little rusty!» he protested, already making another.

She raised her hands in surrender, still smiling, breathless from the game. «Time out! I'm tired.»

They dropped onto a nearby bench, their laughter fading into the hush of the evening. Elizabeth leaned her head against his shoulder with a small sigh. «I haven't played like this in years.»

«It's pure fun,» Elliot replied. «Should be allowed for adults, too.»

The park had quieted. Two birds hopped over the snow, and faint voices drifted from the street beyond.

«I used to come here with my grandmother,» Elizabeth said softly. Her eyes moved over the trees as if searching for her memory among them. «A little piece of my heart is here.» She hesitated, then smiled faintly. «She loved jazz too, you know?»

«Really?»

«She loved going to clubs. That's why I dream of playing in one someday. Just me and my piano...» Her voice faltered, her gaze dropping. «Though she won't be there to see it.»

Elliot slipped an arm around her shoulders, his thumb brushing absently against her coat. «I'm sure she'll find a way to watch you anyway.»

The sky was darkening, streetlights tinting the snow with a soft golden glow. For a moment, it felt like they were sitting inside an old photograph, preserved in silence.

«What about you?» Elizabeth asked suddenly. «What do you want for your future?»

He paused, considering. «I live a lot in the moment. I'm not sure if that's a strength or a flaw.»

«It depends,» she said. «Dreaming is important, but thinking too much about the future can steal the present.»

Elliot nodded slowly. «Then I guess...I'd like to have my own workshop. Maybe under my house. With Bailey running around and getting in the way.»

Elizabeth laughed at the image, and he found himself smiling at her reaction. In his mind, he pictured her leaning out the window to call him in for dinner, but he kept that part to himself.

Later, Elizabeth stood and offered him her hand. «Come on.»

They followed the snowy path until it opened onto a frozen pond. A bare tree stood nearby, stark against the sky, like a silent guardian. Elizabeth slipped off her gloves and tucked them into her pockets, then reached for Elliot's hands and pulled his gloves away too.

«What are you doing?» he asked, amused.

«I need to warm my hands,» she said, sliding hers into his.

«Are they always this cold?»

She giggled. «Genetics. At least it keeps people away, right?»

«Doesn't work on me.»

Elliot reached up to brush a strand of hair from her face, leaning in slowly. Elizabeth closed her eyes, still and waiting. Their lips met in a gentle, unhurried kiss. His hand rose to her cheek as the kiss deepened, tender and careful.

For those few seconds, Elizabeth thought of nothing else: not her father, not Atlas, not the future. Only this—her heart finally beating where it wanted to.

When they parted, they stayed close, their breath mingling in the cold air. Elizabeth let out a small, nervous laugh and rested her forehead against his chest.

Elliot chuckled softly, running a hand through her hair. «Careful. I know I'm good at kissing, but try not to fall for me.»

She tilted her head up with a mischievous smile. «I think it's too late.»

«Then we're even.» he said, smiling back.

Chapter Text

Laurent lingered in the empty hallway after lunch, unsure where to go. Most students were buzzing with excitement, already talking about going home for Christmas. He, on the other hand, had no home to return to. Not after what had happened just a week earlier.

Footsteps approached, and Atlas appeared with his usual confident stride.

«There you are,»he said. «I was looking for you.»

Laurent frowned. «...Why?»

Atlas leaned casually against the wall. «Because I've found you a place to stay for the holidays.»

Laurent blinked, suspicious. «What do you mean?»

«My house. You're coming with me.»

«No way» Laurent replied firmly. «You know I don't want to be a burden.»

Atlas crossed his arms. «You're not a burden at all. I'm not letting you spend Christmas alone like some Dickensian orphan. My parents will be fine with it, and I already have a plan.»

Laurent hesitated, but the relief blooming in his chest was undeniable. «...Are you sure?»

«Completely. Go pack your things, we're leaving this afternoon.»

—

The snow was falling thick and silent when Atlas stopped the car in front of his house in Paisley. The headlights cut through the white haze for a moment before he turned them off, and the world outside went still again.

Laurent hesitated, staring at the elegant house behind the iron gate. His stomach was in knots.

«Are you really sure about this?» he murmured.

Atlas just grinned. «Trust me.»

He pushed the gate open, and they walked up the path together, covering their heads with their hands as the snowflakes melted in their hair.

«Remember,» Atlas said in a low voice, «your name is Simon Hamilton. First year in Literature and Philosophy. Parents tragically gone in a car accident. You're rich, polite, and completely harmless. My parents will eat it up.»

Laurent gave a nervous laugh. «I feel like I'm about to audition for a play.»

«You'll do great. Just stay quiet and look sad.»

When they rang the bell, Atlas's mother opened the door almost immediately. Her elegant face lit up in surprise.

«Atlas! And—oh?» She leaned to see the young man behind him.

«Hi, Mum. This is Simon,» Atlas said quickly, brushing the snow from his coat. «He's a friend from university. His parents...well, he's got nowhere to spend Christmas. I couldn't just leave him alone.»

Mrs. Crane's expression softened at once. She stepped aside and let them in.

«Oh, the poor boy! Of course you can stay, dear. Take off that wet coat before you catch a cold.»

«Thank you, ma'am,» Laurent said quietly, his hands trembling as he unbuttoned his coat. «I...I really appreciate it.»

«Go put your things in the guest room upstairs. Then come down for dinner.» She turned to Atlas with a little sigh. «Your father will be home tomorrow...you know he doesn't like surprises.»

Atlas shrugged with his usual confidence. «He'll survive.»

—

The next day passed quietly. Mr. Crane returned and, after some initial grumbling, accepted the presence of "Simon" in the house. Laurent spent most of the time in the guest room, reading or listening to the distant clatter of preparations for Christmas Eve.

When evening came, the house was warm and bright, filled with the scent of cinnamon and roasted meat. Voices and laughter floated up from the hall. Laurent sat on the bed, clutching a book, until a knock at the door startled him.

«Come in,»he said.

Atlas entered, closing the door behind him. «The guests are here. Ready to face the crowd?»

Laurent exhaled, trying to hide his dread. «As ready as I'll ever be.»

Atlas sat beside him, his knee brushing against his. «Just remember: smile politely, speak only if someone talks to you, and let me handle the rest.»

He reached out to cup Laurent's face.

«One more kiss before I have to pretend you're just my friend all evening?»

Laurent smiled faintly and kissed him, brief and soft. Then he straightened his jacket.

«Alright. Let's get this over with.»

The hall downstairs was already buzzing with people, coats being taken off, glasses clinking. As soon as Atlas's mother spotted them, she waved.

«Atlas! Elizabeth is here. Go greet her, darling.»

Atlas nodded, then glanced back at Laurent. «Come on, Simon.»

Elizabeth stood by the entrance, radiant in a cream-colored coat. As soon as she spotted Atlas, her whole face lit up, and she waved at him with an easy, warm smile.

Laurent hesitated a step behind. He couldn't help noticing how naturally she seemed to belong there, how she carried herself like someone sunlight simply followed.

«Good to see you,» she said, wrapping Atlas in a brief, friendly hug. «How are you?»

«I'm fine,»he replied. «And you? Feeling better?»

«Yes,» she laughed softly. «Let's say I've...finally taken care of a few things»

Laurent watched them, his heart giving the tiniest twist. He felt no real anger toward her. How could he, when she seemed so genuinely kind? If anything, he envied her ease, the way she could simply stand next to Atlas without second-guessing her place.

He cleared his throat gently, and Atlas shifted aside to reveal him at last.

«Oh, right. Elizabeth, this is...Simon. A friend from university.»

Elizabeth turned toward him, her eyes bright. «Nice to meet you.»

Laurent shook her hand, a little shyly. «My pleasure.»

Up close, she was even lovelier, and that only made something ache deeper inside him.

«Well,» she said, turning back to Atlas, «I'd better go greet your father. I'll see you both later.»

As she walked away, Laurent let out a slow breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

Atlas leaned closer. «See? Piece of cake.»

Laurent tried to smile, though the noise and crowd already made him feel like a shadow at the edge of the party. He lingered at the dining room door, watching the guests move toward the table.

«Aren't we going?»

«Just waiting for the crowd to settle first,» Atlas said. Then he glanced at him. «You seem quiet. Everything okay?»

«Just keeping a low profile,» Laurent murmured. «Do you think our plan is holding up?»

«Perfectly,» Atlas replied, before a voice interrupted them.

«Well, if it isn't the two of you, skipping dinner.»

Elizabeth stood behind them, her tone teasing. Atlas smiled lightly. «Absolutely not.»

Laurent followed him like a shadow. Elizabeth's curious eyes fixed on him for a moment, but she didn't comment further.

The dining room was glowing with candlelight and the smell of roasted meat and cinnamon. The long table stretched almost the entire length of the room, polished wood gleaming under the garlands and red ribbons hanging along the walls. Laurent followed Atlas to their seats, careful not to trip over a rug or brush against any stranger.

«Atlas, you said this is a friend of yours?» asked a plump lady across the table, looking at Laurent like he was an unexpected ornament.

«Yes,» Atlas said with an easy smile. «We study literature and philosophy together.»

«Literature and philosophy?» another woman lifted her brows. «I'm surprised your father agreed to that.»

Atlas swallowed his bite and leaned back.
«He doesn't care what I study, as long as I attend university...unlike certain young men who haven't enrolled in anything at all.»

Laurent stifled a laugh, and he caught Elizabeth smiling, too.

The first lady turned her attention to him. «And what about you, Simon, dear? Do you enjoy your studies?»

«I do,» Laurent replied, straightening in his chair. «They're...fascinating, really. Even if they keep me very busy.»

«He looks like a serious student,» Atlas's mother observed. «Not like my son, who only ever thought about girls—»

«Not since university.» Atlas cut in.

Laurent's lips twitched. Under the table, Atlas nudged his knee, and he had to suppress a laugh.

«And no girlfriend for you?» another lady pressed.

Laurent hesitated, heat rising to his cheeks. «No...for now I'm focused on my studies.» He forced a polite smile.

«See? Disciplined.» Mrs. Crane said approvingly.

After dinner, the house swelled with chatter again. Guests drifted toward the living room, where a fire crackled and the tree lights shimmered. Atlas was swept away by friends to greet a late arrival named James, leaving Laurent on his own.

He sank into an armchair, tracing the silver band on his finger, trying to look invisible.

«Hi.» said a voice, bright and uninvited.

Laurent glanced up. Elizabeth had appeared, smiling with that easy confidence he envied.

«Hi.» he echoed cautiously.

«You're hiding here?»

«I...needed a break,»he said, then added dryly, «I might ask you the same, tough.»

Elizabeth giggled, then sat on the armrest of a nearby chair. «I just thought I should come and say hello properly. If you're a friend of Atlas, you must be interesting.»

Laurent hesitated, gaze dropping to his hands. «I wouldn't count on it.»

«Modest,» she teased. «Atlas was the same as a boy. Always trying to vanish in a corner whenever the house got full.»

That made Laurent lift his eyes. «Really? I can't imagine him being quiet.»

«Oh, he's changed a lot. You must have been a good influence.»

Laurent gave a tiny shrug, unsure how to respond, but he felt his nerves ease just a little. Elizabeth's cheerfulness was overwhelming, but not malicious.

From across the room, Atlas's voice rang out. «Hey! What are you two plotting?»

Laurent turned to see him grinning with a tall boy at his side. James, presumably. He stood and muttered a polite greeting, relieved when Elizabeth finally drifted away to join another group.

—

Later that night, the house had gone still. Laurent sat cross‑legged on the guest bed, a book open in his lap but unread, when Atlas slipped quietly into the room.

«Just wanted to say good night,» he whispered.

He sat beside Laurent and wrapped an arm around his back, and Laurent rested his head on his shoulder. The warmth was comforting, yet it also made his chest tighten slightly, a feeling he couldn't quite place.

«I hope you didn't feel left out tonight.» Atlas said. «Sometimes my friends just won't leave me alone»

«See, that's what I meant.» Laurent replied. «I don't want to be a weight on you. You should have fun without worrying about me.»

«You're not a weight,» Atlas said, his voice soft but certain. «I just like knowing you're okay.»

That simple kindness lodged in Laurent's chest: half comfort, half something heavier. There was a question tormenting him since he spoke with Elizabeth, and he just couldn't get it out of his head.

In a low voice, he asked, «Why me, Atlas? Why are you with me and not someone else?»

Atlas paused, startled by the sudden weight in his voice, but then smiled. «Why do you think about such things? I like you just the way you are. You don't need to do anything special...you just are, to me.»

Laurent looked down, a tremor running through him. It wasn't shyness, but the strange feeling of being perceived, of being seen too clearly.

«...Alright. That makes sense.» he murmured.

For a moment, Atlas simply watched him. Something about his quiet acceptance felt off, like there was a thought he wasn't sharing.

He forced a small smile anyway, bent to kiss Laurent's hair and said, «Good night, Laurie.»

«Good night.»

Atlas stood up and lingered at the door for a second, glancing back at him. «You'd tell if something was wrong...wouldn't you?»

Laurent gave the faintest nod, but didn't reply. Atlas left, still unsettled, as Laurent pulled the blanket to his chin. The room felt cooler without him, and that brief conversation kept echoing in his head.

Chapter Text

Something stupid - Frank Sinatra (1967)

--

Hands smeared with blood, a clock clenched in his right fist. The floor was a blur of red. Two bodies. Two bodies crumpled on the ground. A scream rang out somewhere, thin and distant, but he couldn't move, couldn't breathe. The knot in his throat pulled tighter, suffocating. And then, darkness.

Laurent blinked awake to the pale ceiling of Atlas's guest room. He jerked upright, staring at his hands. Clean. Empty. No blood.

«Laurent...?»

He spun toward the doorway. Atlas stood there, hair tousled, concern etched in every line of his face.

«What...what are you doing here?» Laurent muttered, his voice rough.

«I was going to the bathroom, and...I heard you talking.» Atlas hesitated, softer now. «Are you okay?»

Laurent rubbed both palms over his face, breath shaky. «Yeah. Just a nightmare.»

Atlas crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. He gently pulled Laurent's hands away from his face and noticed the faint glisten of tears on his cheeks. Without speaking, he slipped an arm around him, and Laurent let his head rest against his chest.

«I saw it again,» Laurent whispered. «But this time...I didn't stop. I hit him. My father. I...I think a part of me wanted to.»

Atlas's hand moved slowly through his hair. «Dreams twist things. They take what hurts most and turn it against you. That doesn't make it real.»

For a moment, Laurent didn't speak, his throat still too tight.

«I'm so tired of living like this,» he finally murmured. «I just...I want it to stop.»

Atlas drew him closer, his thumb tracing a slow, steady rhythm against his shoulder.

«I know,» he said softly. «I know. It won't end all at once...but it will get easier. Until then, I'll carry it with you, step by step.»

Laurent pulled back enough to meet his eyes. «You shouldn't have to do that.»

«But I want to.» Atlas said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the worl d.

Laurent's lips curved in something close to a smile, faint but real, then his gaze drifted down again.

«I'm scared to sleep...I don't want it to come back.»

Atlas's fingers tightened around his arm, a silent promise of comfort. «I'll stay here with you, if you need it.»

Laurent's eyes found his, hesitant and unsure. «It's...too dangerous. If someone walks in—»

«They won't.» Atlas said, low but firm. «All the doors are locked. I'm not going anywhere. Not now, not tonight.»

For a moment, Laurent hesitated, as if torn between reason and need. Then he exhaled, defeated by the gentleness in Atlas's tone.

«Just...for a while.»

Atlas gave a small nod. «For as long as you want.»

They slipped under the covers, side by side. Laurent's head found its place against Atlas's chest, and their fingers brushed, then laced together.

«...You're warm.»

Atlas chuckled. «Then stay close. I don't want you to catch a cold.»

Laurent closed his eyes, letting himself focus on the gentle rise and fall of Atlas's breathing. The tension in his chest eased slowly, until sleep finally came, calmer and softer this time.

Hours passed. The dark room deepened, then gradually lightened as pale winter rays seeped through the curtains. Laurent stirred, still half wrapped in the fog of sleep, and blinked against the soft morning glow.

The bed beside him was empty. A folded note on the nightstand caught his eye, the familiar handwriting unmistakably Atlas's.

Hi, I'll be right back. Wait for me before you leave the room.

Merry Christmas – Atlas.

A small smile tugged at Laurent's lips. He folded the note carefully and slipped it into his pocket. Only then did it hit him: it was Christmas morning. He hadn't even bought a gift for Atlas, distracted by all his recent problems.

About ten minutes later, Atlas appeared in the doorway with a paper bag in hand and a bright smile.

«Good morning.»

«Hey, where have you been?»

«It's Christmas, remember?» Atlas said, waving the bag playfully. He sat beside Laurent and offered it to him.

Laurent hesitated. «I...I didn't get you anything. I thought I'd buy something in January, once we were back at university. Staying here messed up all my plans. I know it's sounds as an excuse, but—»

«Stop.» Atlas cut him off, giving the bag a gentle push. «You don't owe me anything. Just look.»

Laurent obeyed, unclipping the staples and peeking inside. He pulled out a small brown leather notebook.

«I saw you were almost done with your other one,» Atlas said, smiling softly. «Thought this must be nice.»

«It's perfect.» Laurent murmured, running a thumb over the cover. «Thank you.»

Atlas smiled, relief softening his features. «Get ready and come downstairs when you want. Breakfast is waiting.»

Laurent nodded, watching him leave with that same strange feeling in his chest he couldn't explain.

—

Later, the days blurred together until New Year's Eve arrived. Atlas, of course, couldn't resist throwing a party: friends only, no parents or prying aunts allowed.

«Everything ready?» Laurent asked, scanning the decorated room.

«Definitely, thanks for helping,» Atlas said with a grin. «You'll have fun tonight, trust me.»

By nine, the house buzzed with music and laughter. Someone handed Laurent a glass of an unfamiliar, sweet-tasting drink that eased the tension in his shoulders. For a moment, he almost forgot about the knot in his throat he had since Christmas Eve. Everything seemed lighter, even if deep down he knew it never really was.

Laurent was laughing on the sofa next to Elizabeth, when Atlas' voice boomed across the room: «Time to play!» He wobbled slightly, holding a wine goblet, clearly already tipsy.

«Play?» Laurent murmured, and Elizabeth's bright laugh answered him.

«Wishes in wine! Everyone says a wish for the new year and drinks.»

Laurent froze. «Wine?»

«You don't drink?« asked Neil, one of Atlas' friends.

He shook his head, mortified. Before he could say more, Neil announced loudly, «Problem, Simon doesn't like wine! What should we give him?«

Laurent's ears burned. The boy from earlier leaned over and whispered, «Vermouth Cassis. That's what you liked before.»

Laurent repeated the name, and James, mixing drinks at the counter, grinned. «Great taste! Coming up.»

Instead of laughing at him, the group cheered. Laurent felt a strange warmth that had nothing to do with the alcohol. Like he was finally allowed a seat at the table.

When his glass was full, he dared to glance toward Atlas. Across the room, he caught his eye and gave him a soft smile, in quiet encouragement.

The game began, and everyone insisted that Atlas should go first. He stood up, raised his glass and barely turned his eyes to Laurent.

«For my New Year, I'd like to bring with me all the people and experiences of this past year. The good and the bad. Every one of them taught me something, and I don't want to leave that behind.»

He swallowed a sip of wine, as the group around him applauded cheerfully.

Between some heartfelt wishes and some deliberately funny ones, it was finally Laurent's turn.

A little hesitant, he raised his glass and glanced at Atlas.

«For my new year...I just want to be less afraid. And a little better at expressing myself.»

He closed his eyes and took a few sips while Neil patted him on the back. «We've all been there, man. It gets easier.»

Across the table, Atlas didn't look away. His smile was soft, almost sad. Both of their wishes, unspoken, were about each other. But no one else in the room would ever guess.

One by one, the game continued until the last glass was empty, and the group spilled back into the living room, talking over each other, still laughing. For the first time in a long time, Laurent felt a strange warmth in his chest. He wasn't just a quiet observer anymore, he was part of this circle.

After the game ended, Atlas lingered in the kitchen to rinse the glasses, knowing his mother would scold him if he left a mess for the morning. Elizabeth, as always, joined in to help. The warm water ran over their hands, the voices from the other room muffled in the background.

«Seems like Simon's fitting in tonight, isn't he?» she said, handing him a rinsed glass.

Atlas blinked before remembering who «Simon» was. Maybe he was tipsier than he thought. «Oh, yeah. I think so. He's usually so reserved...I hope he feels okay here.»

Elizabeth studied him quietly, trying not to make it too obvious. She opened her mouth to speak, but then a burst of laughter from the living room cut the tension like a knife.

«What's going on over there?» Atlas said, putting the glass down and walking out the kitchen.

When he arrived, Laurent was on the sofa, flushed and laughing harder than Atlas had ever seen him. One of the girls wiped tears from her eyes, gasping between giggles.

«Simon was telling us about the time you snuck into the Headmaster's office and got caught!»

Atlas could only gape, pointing an accusatory finger at Laurent, who was practically doubled over in laughter. «He's not supposed to tell stories like that!»

The room erupted again, the teasing now fully aimed at Atlas, who had no choice but to submit. For a brief, golden moment, everything felt light. Laurent was laughing, really laughing, and Atlas couldn't stop smiling at the sight.

By the time the final minutes of the year ticked away, the music had softened, the lights were warm, and it was time for the last toasts. Atlas climbed onto the table, glass in hand, and motioned for Laurent to join him. Laurent's wide-eyed expression clearly said «are you insane?», but the group cheered, and he gave in, clambering up beside Atlas.

Atlas slung an arm around his shoulders, raising his glass. «This year was...strange. I started university practically dragged by my father, sure I'd hate it. But I didn't. Sometimes, facing things with the right people makes all the difference. I've learned a lot...and I hope the new year gives us just as much. Here's to all of us...still here, still together.»

He gave Laurent a gentle nudge, inviting him to speak.

«Thank you...for a lovely evening,» he said shyly, «To us.»

The clinking of glasses filled the air, followed by cheers.

«How did I do?» Atlas whispered as they climbed down.

Laurent shrugged, a little smile on his lips. «Pretty good.»

Then, a couple of minutes before midnight, everyone was gathered in the living room, ready for the countdown. Atlas suddenly approached Laurent, grabbing his wrist.

«Come with me. I want to show you something.»

«What? But we'll miss the countdown!»

«Trust me,» Atlas insisted, his eyes glimmering. «We'll be right on time.»

Laurent followed him upstairs, through Atlas' room and out onto the roof, the winter air crisp against their face.

«You brought me...to the roof?» Laurent said, baffled.

Atlas sat down and gestured to him to do the same. «Just wait, look ahead.» he said, pointing in front of them. Then he glanced at his watch. «Five...four...three...two...one...»

At midnight, the sky burst into color. Fireworks bloomed over the distant town, echoing against the still night.

«Wow...» Laurent whispered. «They're beautiful.»

«Yes, they are.» Atlas murmured, but his eyes weren't on the sky. «Laurie...»

Laurent turned, surprised by the shake in his voice.

«I love you, Laurie.»

A firework cracked loudly, almost covering the words. But Laurent heard them. Loud and clear. He froze, overwhelmed, his mouth half-opened. The words he should've said back stayed locked in his throat. He felt them out of place, not yet mature enough to be voiced.

So he did the worst thing ever.

«...Sorry, what did you say? I—I couldn't hear you.»

Atlas' smile faltered. «I said...Happy New Year, Laurie.»

His eyes were fixed on him, as if waiting for something that wasn't coming.

Laurent attempted a smile. «Oh—yeah...Happy New Year to you too.»

A heavy silence fell around them, as a firecracker popped in the distance. Laurent suddenly felt suffocated.

He swallowed hard. «I...I think I'll go inside. It's cold.»

He climbed back through the window, leaving Atlas alone under the pale moonlight. He raised his head to look at the fading fireworks. He ran a hand over his face, letting out a long breath. Why did I say that? Perhaps he got caught up in the euphoria of the party, in the joy of having him there. He acted without thinking, as always. And now, he had the distinct feeling he'd broken a delicate balance between them.

Chapter Text

Classes at the university resumed on January 11th, pulling everyone back into their usual routine.

Even Inès, who had buried her father barely a month before, found it hard to believe life could simply go on. But it did. People smiled, spoke of exams, and walked the corridors as if nothing had happened.

She was heading to class, books in her arms, when she saw Laurent turn the corner toward the bathroom. He hadn't noticed her. They hadn't spoken since...that day.

«Laurent!»

He stopped immediately at the sound of her voice. His expression lit up for a second, then faltered as the memory of their last meeting returned.

«How are you?» he asked, softly.

«I'm...managing,» Inès said with a small smile that didn't reach her eyes. «It's strange to be back, but...I'm glad to study again. It keeps my mind busy.»

Laurent hesitated. «About...last time. I'm sorry you had to see me like that. I didn't mean to push you away, really.»

«I know,» she said gently. «Don't worry about me. I can only imagine how hard it was for you.»

A short silence fell between them, and Laurent looked at Inès just enough to notice how her eyes looked sad, empty.

She tilted her head slightly, her voice quiet but insistent. «Where were you, over Christmas? I was worried.»

Laurent swallowed. «I'm sorry, but...I just couldn't go back after what happened. I stayed at a friend's.»

«Atlas, right?»

Laurent's heart skipped a beat. «...How do you know?»

Inès glanced around quickly, her expression tightening. The corridor was busy, but no one seemed to pay attention. Still, she lowered her voice.

«Not here.»

Before Laurent could react, she caught him by the wrist and tugged him into the nearby bathroom.

«Wait, this is—»

«Men can hold it for two minutes,» she said, locking the door. Then she turned to him, arms crossed. «Are you going to tell me, or do I have to say it first?»

Laurent's throat tightened. «I don't know what you mean.»

«Laurent.» Her voice softened, but stayed firm. «The way you look at each other, the way you're always together...I already know. I just want you to admit it.»

He hesitated, searching for words that wouldn't betray him. «It's not that simple. There are...things you can't understand.»

She took a small step closer. «Then help me understand.»

He exhaled shakily. «It's dangerous. I don't want to drag you into it.»

«But I want to be in it," she said quietly. «For you.»

For a moment, Laurent just stared at her, torn between fear and relief.

His voice was barely audible when he said, «It happened. It shouldn't have, but it did.» He ran a hand through his hair, struggling to steady himself. «And now that you know...it's even harder to pretend.»

Inès hesitated, her tone gentler. «He means a lot to you, doesn't he?»

«He does.» he admitted quietly, then stopped, swallowing hard. The memory of Atlas's words from that night flickered in his mind, too close, too real. «But it's...complicated. I don't know how to handle it.»

Her gaze softened, her arm touching his sleeve. «Hey. You don't have to figure it all out right now. Just...promise me you'll be careful.»

Laurent nodded slowly. «I'll try,» he said, voice faint. «Thank you, Inès.»

He walked back into the corridor with his head full of noise, though the students chattering around him were only a blur. Inès's voice followed him like an echo. And yet, all he could think was how he would tell Atlas.

He spent the whole afternoon on edge. By the time he reached the attic, he could barely keep still, pacing back and forth, breathing deeply in an attempt to calm down. When the door handle finally turned, he forced himself into a more composed posture.

Atlas hurried in, tension written all over his face. «What happened?»

«I...» Laurent exhaled shakily. «I don't even know how to tell you.»

«Laurent, you're scaring me.»

«Inès knows.»

Atlas froze. «Knows what?»

«She knows about us.»

Atlas ran a hand down his face. «Fuck...are you kidding me?»

«I'm not.»

Atlas planted his hands on his hips, silent for a moment, searching for words, but only let out a low, frustrated sound.

«It's a big mess. You know that, right?» Laurent said first, voice tight.

Atlas tried to stay rational. «Okay...did she say it? Directly?»

«Not at first. She hinted, and I tried to deny it, but...it was pointless. I told her in the end.»

«And...how did she react?»

«Too well,» Laurent muttered. «She was calm, kind...like it was normal.»

«And do you think it's not?»

«No, it's not!» Laurent snapped. «If she noticed, anyone could. You know what happens if we get reported, don't you?»

«I do.» Atlas replied, fists clenching as he tried to stay calm. He didn't like fighting, especially with him. «But losing your temper won't help. Inès is your cousin, she won't say a word.»

«That's not the point.» Laurent pressed a head on his forehead. «It's just...I'm only realizing now how fucking reckless we've been.»

Atlas' voice sharpened. «So what we have it's just something fucking reckless to you?"

Laurent flinched. Wrong words. «No, that's—that's not what I meant. I mean...the risk is huge. Too huge.»

«Then what? You think it's not worth it? Or are you just ashamed of us?»

Laurent's eyes widened. «What?!»

«Admit it. You're ashamed someone else knows. You're not worried about us, just about what people think.»

Laurent ran a trembling hand through his hair, pacing again. «No...that's not it. I'm...I'm just scared. That's all.»

«Do you think I'm not? The difference between us is that I don't let fear consume me. Every time something scares you, you run away. You can't do that.»

Laurent froze, lips parting like he wanted to speak, but nothing came.

Atlas sighed, his voice softer. «I...I shouldn't have said that, alright? On New Year's. I didn't think, I just—» He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. «I messed up. I should've known it would only make things harder. I'm sorry.»

Laurent's voice was almost a whisper. «It's not your fault. It's just...I don't know how to handle it. It's too much sometimes.»

His gaze dropped to the floor, shoulders tense. Atlas wanted to reach for him, but he didn't move. Silence hung heavy between them, broken only by the faint creak of the old attic beams.

Finally, Atlas stepped back toward the door. «I guess...I should go now.»

His hand was on the handle when Laurent shifted, lips parting as if to call him back, but no sound came. His fingers curled tight against his side, the moment slipping away.

He stayed frozen in place, throat tight, the words he hadn't spoken echoing in his chest.

—

Meanwhile, Inès couldn't stop thinking about what Laurent had told her all morning. In front of him she had hidden her fear, but inside she was deeply worried. Not for herself, now tangled in this dangerous secret, but for Laurent. She was terrified something might happen to him.

She sat on a step in the most secluded corner of the university towers, arms on her knees, staring at nothing. She liked the silence, she needed it. It was the only moment no one asked how she was.

Footsteps behind her. She turned with a tired reflex, and there he was, as if nothing had changed, Percy.

They stared at each other for a few seconds. He opened his mouth, then looked down. Inès broke the silence, her voice rougher than she wanted.

«Are you lost?»

He gave a half-smile. «Only if you're my destination.»

Inès sighed and turned back toward the horizon. «You could have written to me, you know.»

«I know.» He paused. «I started...five times. Then I deleted everything.»

«What a surprise.»

Silence stretched again. He stepped closer, but still kept a careful distance.

«I wanted to give you space. I didn't know if you wanted to talk to me.»

«When have you ever cared about what I want?» she retorted. «It's always all about you and your needs.»

Percy bit the inside of his cheek, clearly stopping himself from joking as he once would.

«You're right,» he said at last. «But I've been thinking about you. Every day.»

Inès swallowed. She hated how much that hit her. She still felt empty, fragile, too exposed.

«I'm not here to pity you,» he added, as if reading her thoughts. «I didn't come to say I'm sorry or that everything will be fine.»

She studied him. «Then why are you here?»

He hesitated. «Because I...I was worried. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. And maybe...you wanted to see me, too.»

Inès didn't answer immediately. She just looked at him, her eyes carrying no hardness now. Only a deep, bone-heavy tiredness.

«I don't want to talk about my father.»

«I didn't ask you to.»

«I don't want to break down in front of you.»

«Okay.»

«And I don't want you looking at me with that tormented romantic hero face. It doesn't work on me.»

Percy smiled bitterly. «Come on. You know that's not true.»

Silence thickened again. Inès laced her fingers tightly together.

«I feel bad,» she murmured. «And I want to be strong all the time, but I can't. I'm tired... tired of being treated like I'm fragile. Like I'm about to break.»

Percy finally sat on the step beside her, still keeping a respectful gap.

«You don't have to be strong with me,» he said. «You can be whatever you want.»

«Even mean, if I want?»

He smiled. «You already are.»

«That's not true," she said with a faint laugh. «But if you keep this up, I might become it.»

He didn't laugh. He just watched her with that same focused gaze, and though it was comforting, part of her wondered, fleetingly, what exactly he was thinking.

«I missed you.» he said.

Her eyes misted, though she didn't cry. «Of course,» she whispered, her voice shaky.

They both settled more comfortably on the step. His fingers brushed hers. By accident, maybe, but she didn't move away, and neither did he.

«Are you going to stay here long?» he asked.

«I don't know. Depends.»

«On what?»

«On how long I can pretend your presence isn't good for me.»

She said it without looking at him, but the way her shoulders relaxed said it all. Percy lowered his eyes. Slowly, she rested her head on his shoulder.

She didn't speak, and she didn't need to. He held his breath, then gently placed his hand over hers, giving it a soft squeeze.

And they stayed like that, silent and staring into nothing. Just being there. For now, it was enough.

Chapter Text

Watching Him Fade Away - Mac DeMarco (2017)

--

It was January 19th: Laurent’s birthday. As soon as he opened his eyes, he wished he could close them again and skip the day altogether.

He had never liked celebrating. To him, it was a day like any other, spent alone, with no friends and no family who cared. At least it was Saturday, so he could hide in his room reading. He doubted Atlas would look for him: an entire week had passed since their argument, and they still hadn’t reconciled.

Around 8:30, Laurent went down to the dining room for breakfast, alone. Even he and Matilda weren’t as close as before, and he knew it was his fault. He was sipping orange juice when Atlas suddenly sat across from him, making him nearly choke.

«Happy birthday.» Atlas said, pulling a box from under the table and pushing it toward him.

Laurent sighed. «You didn’t have to.»

«But it’s your birthday.»

«It’s just a date on the calendar, Atlas.» Laurent muttered. «I’ll spend the whole day in my room reading, like always.»

«Not this time. I want to do something nice together.» Atlas’s smile faded into a serious look. «I know we argued last week, but I wanted to put that aside and…take you somewhere.»

Laurent lowered his gaze. «I just…I don’t want this to be a way of pretending nothing happened.»

Atlas exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. «I don’t want either. We should…talk. Just…maybe not right now. Not today.» He gently set the bag on the table. «If you want to come, I’ll wait for you at the entrance at five.» He started to move away, then added, almost awkwardly, «And…even if you don’t want the gift, please keep it anyway.»

Laurent took the package and returned to his room, the knot in his stomach killing his appetite. He sat on the bed and opened it: a gold-and-brown leather wristwatch. It must have cost a fortune. He replaced his old watch with the new one, admiring its beauty, and for some reason, he felt the tears behind his eyes. Atlas’s kindness made him feel even guiltier. He wasn’t even hurting him on purpose, but it still felt like he was. He decided he would at least try. He had to show up at five.

When he arrived, Atlas was already standing at the entrance, hands tucked in his pockets, posture casual but alert. «I’m glad you came,» he said softly, a hint of tension in his voice. «Let’s go.»

Laurent hesitated, fingers brushing the watch in his pocket. He shifted his weight, glancing briefly at Atlas before looking away.

«That’s the watch I gave you, isn’t it?» Atlas asked, voice gentle but attentive.

Laurent nodded, voice low. «Yes…it’s very nice. Thank you.»

Atlas offered a small, careful smile. «It suits you.»

They walked to the car in a near-silence, each step echoing the unspoken thoughts between them. Once inside, Laurent settled into the passenger seat, hands resting on his lap, eyes fixed on the passing scenery. Music played softly from the radio, but the quiet in the car carried a weight of its own.

Atlas stole a glance at him, noting the slight tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers lingered on the watch. He kept his voice calm, measured.

«You seem…somewhere else. If you didn’t want to come, you should’ve told me. We can still turn back.»

Laurent let out a fragile breath.«I do want to, it’s just…» His voice faltered, the sentence hanging in the air, unfinished.

Atlas’ eyes flicked to him before going back on the road, but he didn’t speak.

After forty minutes, they reached the Scottish countryside. Nothing but endless meadows, distant mountains, and a few scattered trees.

«Follow me, it’s close.» Atlas said.

They walked for a couple of minutes until the trees opened to a cliff overlooking the sea. Atlas lowered himself onto the frost‑dusted grass, his hands bracing behind him, and Laurent sat a little apart before inching closer. Below, the waves rolled and broke, slow and steady. Sunlight shifted across the water, the clouds moving in soft shades of white, pink and orange.

The salty breeze brushed Laurent’s face, tangling in his hair. The roar of the sea filled the silence between them, steady and unrelenting. For a moment, he let himself sink into it.

«It’s beautiful,» he murmured, letting his gaze linger on the horizon. «Even…even when everything feels heavy, it keeps going. Steady, unbothered.»

A pause, the sound of the waves filling the quiet. Laurent’s fingers traced absent patterns on the grass. «Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to be the sea. No weight. No one expecting anything of you. Just…existing.»

Atlas glanced at him from the side. «Sounds like a better deal than ours.»

Laurent’s lips curved in a faint, humorless smile. «I wish I felt lighter too.» He stared at his hands. «Do you think that if I were the sea and you were the sun…or if I were the wind and you were the grass…things between us would feel…different?»

Atlas’s brows drew together, but his voice stayed quiet. «Maybe. Maybe not. Hard to say.»

Laurent stayed quiet, letting the breeze tug at his hair. His shoulders sagged slightly. After a long exhale, his voice came out low and hesitant. «Have you ever…wanted to disappear?»

Atlas tilted his head, reading the pause. «Disappear completely…or just not be seen for a while?»

«Either.»

Atlas looked back at the sea. «Yeah…yeah, I’ve thought about it. And you?»

«All the time,» Laurent admitted. «But never as much as now.»

«If you really wanted to vanish,» Atlas said, his tone softer now, «we could run off somewhere no one knows us. Just the two of us.»

Laurent didn’t look at him. «I don’t even know if that would work. Sometimes I think…maybe if I could just be someone else entirely, I wouldn’t hate myself so much.»

Atlas shifted a little closer, but didn’t reach for him. «And how would you even do that?»

«I’d be less and more in everything, I guess. Less scared, less anxious, less closed-off. Happier, braver, kinder…smarter.»

Atlas shook his head, a small, tired smile tugging at his lips.

«Laurie…that’s still you. All of it. I didn’t fall for some perfect version of you. I fell for you.»

Laurent blinked, throat tight. «Despite everything…you still…?»

Atlas’s jaw tightened, then he nodded slowly. «Yes. But…» His words caught, heavy, before he forced them out. «I’m not sure you still do.»

The silence that followed was soft and melancholic, like something drifting away. Laurent wanted to say yes, but all that came out was a heavy breath. The truth was that he still did, but not as before. It was as fear had taken up too much space, leaving the rest blurred.

Atlas lowered his eyes, taking that silence as proof of what his heart already suspected.

«Sometimes I feel alone, even when you’re here. Like I’m trying to reach you, but something’s always in the way.»

Laurent swallowed. «I…I don’t mean to.»

«I know,» Atlas replied. «but I’m not sure how long we can keep going like this.»

He ran a hand through his hair, then slowly stood up. Laurent turned, opening his mouth to speak, but he didn’t. Atlas looked at him, not with anger or disappointment. Only with the quiet sadness of someone who knows they can’t insist any longer.

«It’s getting dark,» he said at last. «We should go back.»

Laurent nodded. They walked to the car side by side, careful not to touch even by accident.

The drive was silent, the radio off. Between them there wasn’t just distance anymore. There was absence. Laurent stared out of the window, thinking of all the words he didn’t say. And now it was too late. Atlas no longer seemed willing to wait for him, and Laurent knew it was entirely his fault.

Atlas drove with his eyes fixed on the road, mind clouded. There was a time he believed love was enough. That staying, insisting, trying would always save a relationship. But now…he wasn’t sure anymore. Laurent was too far away, too unreachable. And all he could do was let him drift.

—

Back at the university, they both spent the evening in their rooms, drowning in their thoughts.
Laurent didn’t move from his bed for hours, silently crying. Atlas, in his own room, didn’t shed a tear. He sat on the wooden floor staring into nothing, his thoughts spiraling, then went to bed early. Laurent, instead, wandered the corridors after curfew, restless.

Passing through one of the common rooms, he noticed Matilda on the sofa in front of the fireplace, reading. The sight made his chest ache. She was his friend, and he had abandoned her for weeks.

Quietly, he walked over and sat down next to her. She looked up and gasped.

«Hi.» he murmured, clearing his throat.

«I haven’t heard from you in weeks.» Matilda said, cutting straight to it. «I was worried.»

Laurent swallowed. «I’m fine.»

«You’re not.»

Laurent met her gaze. Her eyes were direct, almost too sincere, and it hurt. She still waited for a part of him he wasn’t giving.

«You’re an open book,» she whispered. «I can tell right away when something’s wrong. You’re not going to talk about it, are you?»

Laurent barely shook his head. «I wouldn’t even know where to start. Let’s just…leave it.»

Matilda hesitated. Part of her wanted to ask if Atlas knew, if he was the one Laurent confided in now, but she was too afraid to hear the answer. Instead, she changed the subject.

«It’s your birthday today.»

Laurent gave a half-smile, thin and tired. «Yeah. Not my favorite day.»

She didn’t ask for details. She knew Laurent would only speak if he wanted to, and pressing would only push him away.

«Why have you been so distant?» she asked after a pause. «Did I do something?»

«No. Absolutely not.» His voice was quick, almost desperate to reassure her. «I’ve just…been feeling bad. And when that happens, I push other people away. It feels easier to face things alone, without worrying about how I affect everyone else. I’m sure you understand.»

Matilda nodded slowly. «I do. I’ve done the same in the past. After…after my sister’s death, I didn’t want to see anyone. I just wanted to be alone with my pain. But it’s not healthy, Laurent.»

Laurent stared at her, stunned. «You never told me that before.»

«It’s not something I tell anyone,» she said. «You matter to me. That’s why our distance hurts so much.»

«I’m sorry,» he whispered. «I just…need to be alone right now. I don’t want my pain to spill onto anyone else.» His voice trembled, heavy with unspoken loneliness.

He turned to her. «How…how did you feel after you pushed everyone away?»

Matilda exhaled softly. «Don’t let me shape your choice, Laurent.»

Laurent didn’t reply, only stared down at his hands.

«You need to make it on your own.»

She stood and murmured a faint, «Good night,» heading toward the door. Laurent almost called her back, but in the end he didn’t. A part of him had hoped she’d insist, and that tiny hope made him question his choice.

As Matilda walked to her dorm, tears picked her eyes. A knot tightened in her stomach, a mix of sadness and something else.

Chapter Text

12 to 12 - sombr (2025)

—

A few days later, Inès stayed after her law class. The January afternoon light barely filtered through the high windows, painting the classroom in pale grey. She sat alone at her desk, her pen scratching across the page.

Since her father's death in December, she'd missed almost three weeks of lessons. Catching up had become her silent mission. Most days, she stayed after class to copy the notes she had lost, determined not to fall behind.

Footsteps echoed in the corridor. She didn't look up until a voice teased her from the doorway.

«Still in class?»

Percy leaned against the frame, arms crossed, an amused eyebrow raised.

Inès' lips curved faintly. «And what are you doing in my class?»

«I thought you were done. I came to talk to you...but apparently, you're such a law fanatic that you can't leave.»

She rolled her eyes, and he stepped inside, letting the door close behind him.

«Not exactly. I'm just copying old notes from December,» she said. «I can't afford to fall behind.»

Percy slid on the seat next to hers, looking over the pile of paper with theatrical disbelief.

«You're insane. Who voluntarily rewrites old lessons?»

«Maybe someone who wants to pass the exam.»

He scanned at the pages, then gave her a sideways look. «Didn't any of your friends offer to help?»

«Yeah, they did. But they're all busy, and I didn't want to bother them.»

Percy shook his head, then grabbed half her notes without asking.

«Fine. I'll help. Even if my handwriting is unreadable.»

Inès blinked, surprised, and couldn't help the soft laugh that escaped her.

«I don't care how bad it is. As long as I can decipher it.»

Percy shot her a quick, playful look, though his eyes lingered on her a fraction longer than necessary, before turning back to the page.

They worked in companionable silence for a while, the sound of their pens scratching on the paper, punctuated by small bursts of conversation.

When the last line was copied, Percy stretched dramatically and handed her the sheets.

«There. Passed inspection?»

Inès checked his writing carefully, then set the papers on the pile with a smile.

«Approved. Thank you. I would've been here twice as long without you.»

Percy grinned. «So you turned down your friends' help, but enslaved me without hesitation?»

She chuckled as she put her books in her bag. «You deserve it.»

They left the classroom side by side, his long strides matching her smaller ones. He kept talking, animated, his voice echoing in the quiet corridor.

—

Matilda sat alone on a wooden bench in the hall, a book open in her lap. She had read the same paragraph three times without taking in a single word. Since Laurent had pulled away, the days seemed to drag, empty and heavy.

When she lifted her eyes, she saw them: Inès and a tall boy with reddish hair, walking together, talking and laughing. Something inside her tightened. It felt like everyone around her had someone: Laurent had Atlas, Inès had that guy now...and she had no one. Every time she looked around, she had a silent reminder of her own loneliness.

She dropped her gaze to the book, pretending to read, but when she looked up again, Inès had noticed her.

«Hey! How are you?»

Matilda forced a polite smile. «I'm fine.»

Percy gave her a friendly nod and, after a quick introduction, excused himself. His smile was bright, but Matilda caught something in his eyes she couldn't quite define.

Left alone with Inès, Matilda hesitated.

«You've been busy,» she said softly.

Inès smiled faintly. «Trying to. It helps.»

Matilda shifted on the bench. «I heard about your father. I'm...sorry.»

«Thank you.» Inès's voice was quiet, a little fragile. «It still doesn't feel real sometimes.»

Matilda nodded, not sure what else to say. For a second, neither of them spoke, but the silence wasn't awkward. Just careful.

«It's good to see you,» Inès said at last, a small, tired smile on her lips.

«You too,» Matilda replied. And this time, it wasn't forced.

When Inès walked away, Matilda's chest still felt tight, though less than before: like something had shifted, even just a little.

—

Downstairs, Atlas stood in front of the notice board, pretending to read a flyer. His thoughts were elsewhere, scattered and restless. A presence brushed close behind him, and he turned to see Percy, grinning like he owned the corridor.

«I haven't seen you in a while, Atlas.»

Atlas's jaw tightened. «There must be a reason for that.»

Percy leaned against the wall, hands tucked in his pockets. «Not with your usual friend today? You two are usually...inseparable.»

Atlas's voice stayed even. «If you don't see him, then he's not here. But I see you've been keeping busy with Inès. Again.»

Percy's grin faltered for a second. «I'm helping her through a rough time. Not that it's any of your concern.»

Atlas turned back to the board, shoulders stiff but controlled. Percy's voice followed, low and needling.

«You seem tense. Everything alright?»

«I'm fine.»

«Mhm.» Percy tilted his head, pretending to think. «Doesn't look like it. Heart problems, maybe?»

Atlas's hand froze on the wooden frame. His breath hitched, just slightly, but he didn't turn around.

Percy shrugged, the grin returning. «Well, it was nice catching up. Say hello to Laurent for me.»

Atlas didn't move until Percy's footsteps had faded. He sighed, slowly raising his eyes. And then he saw him.

Laurent.

Far down the corridor, a flash of dark hair, pale skin. For a heartbeat, their eyes met across the river of students. Atlas felt his chest clench, his breath catch. Hope and ache colliding in a single, painful instant.

Laurent's stomach twisted. He hadn't expected that just seeing him would feel like this. A sharp ache, almost a pull, like something inside him wanted to reach out.

He turned away first, forcing his legs to move, and slipped around the corner.
He leaned against the cold stone wall, eyes closed, trying to steady his breathing. He kept repeating himself that he would get used to this. That distance was easier, safer. But all it took was one glance, and the emptiness inside him felt heavier than ever.

He hurried up the stairs and, when he reached his dormitory corridor, something caught his eyes: a letter in his mailbox. He got closer to check it out, thinking it was a mistake. But it couldn't be. On it was written only his name in jagged block letters, in a handwriting he'd never seen before. No sign of a stamp or a sender.

He carried it to his dorm, sat on the bed and tore the envelope open.

Someone will find out sooner or later.
Or maybe they already have.
You can't keep the secret forever.
You're hanging by a thread.

Laurent stared at the page. His stomach twisted, and cold sweat spread across his skin. He turned the sheet over. One last line, bigger than the rest:

DO NOT IGNORE THIS LETTER.

He put the letter on the bedside table, but without taking his eyes off it. Shortly after, he picked it up again and reread it, as if he couldn't believe those words.

For a moment, he tried to convince himself it was a stupid joke. But the longer he stared, the less he believed it.

Hands trembling, he crumpled the paper and threw it into the wood-burning stove.

«Fuck it.» he muttered.

But the knot in his throat didn't loosen at all.