#hes supposed to be a fail divorce guy so that would really pull the rug out from under ya

[shrimpoe]

what if chartreuse's secret is that hes not actually divorced to his wife and theyre very happily married still. white would be so heartbroken

[atomic-r0x]

Atlas’s First Story (BDS)

The house itself looked exactly like she remembered it – neat gardening, tidy windows, a perfectly puffy rug at the entrance, all the things you wouldn’t expect the home of a man whose heart was as fragile as porcelain to have. The obscene enormity of the building tricking you into thinking maybe the house was not as empty as it actually was, behind closed doors.

They’d discovered the disease little over two years before, but like he always did, Atlas’s father didn’t care much about treatment. He insisted, for the most part, that failing hearts were common among men like himself – ‘it’s the age, darling’. He kept sugarcoating his own disease so much, a year later, at the next doctor’s appointment, there was no way he could trust the man he was getting worse.

‘Dad, medication won’t kill you’ was something Atlas had repeated far too much in her existence, but no matter how much she dreaded thinking of her father as anything but strong and invincible, she needed to keep going for his own sake.

‘The heart is a mechanism you can’t control’ he’d always say, and then they’d end the Skype call and she would curl up in bed next to the man she thought she loved more than life itself, the nights when he actually was around.

Henry felt it as a moral responsibility to meet her father and give her the time and space to take care of the old man, as well as get spiritual guidance from him, or whatever it is dads do with their bride-to-be daughters. At times, it felt like he was fighting for his own father, trying to kick some rationality into Atlas’s shit scared mind – what if she wasn’t strong enough to see her father sick? What if the town would bring back unwanted memories that would haunt her? What if she couldn’t handle the reality back home?

‘Jesus, that is very noble of you, honey, but you’re getting bloody married in a couple months’ her mother, Ambra, who’d never once called Mason ever again after the divorce papers were done, would say, inevitably causing a fight that only seemed to dissolve when Henry’s diplomatic approach towards the matter came into play.

“It is both Atlas’s and my very own desire to take this trip to Beaufort. I am sure there is plenty of time to have the wedding planned from A to Z, but I myself wouldn’t feel half as good as I wish to feel knowing that we have neglected Mr. Collins.” Atlas would smile from her seat in the armchair and her mother would sigh loudly and shake her head, leaving the room with a ‘sit like a lady’ snapped right at her daughter, to which she’d just wait for Ambra to get out of the room and jump straight in Henry’s arms, legs tightly locked around his hips.

+++++

“Dad, dinner’s ready!” Atlas called out, knife still in hand. She would have never thought cooking for her father in her own childhood home would ever happen, and yet there she was, in pajama shorts and a vintage, cream-gone-yellow Led Zeppelin shirt, barefoot so that her red toes would dry down nicely.

“Smells really good” Henry spoke in his characteristic soft voice, opening a bottle of wine he’d just gone down to the dungeon for and pouring the deep red liquid into three glasses, the fancy crystal ones her father had kept for ‘special occasions’.

“Oh, oh, sorry, am I interrupting something?” Mr. Collin’s voice rang from the entrance into the kitchen, Atlas’s arms dropping from around her man’s neck, lips parting in quick embarrassment, like they were kids being caught by their parents on their very first kiss. Henry let out a small snorted laugh and Atlas twirled on her heels, taking the baked food out of the over and taking it to the table.

“I am so very blessed to have you here” Mason Collins started, reaching out his hand to hold his daughter’s, eyes adoring and proud. “And I am so thankful for your care, Henry. I can’t think of a better prize, as a parent, than knowing your child has fallen so sincerely in love with someone who can really take care of them, love them as much as you do.” They were both just about to say something to end the philosophical monologue, but then Mr. Collins opened his mouth again. “But I feel like you’ve been growing older by the minute here. Been here four a good couple days already and you haven’t left the house, other than going to do the shopping or dragging me to that bloody hospital.”

Atlas shook her head with a faint, confused smile and shrugged her father’s words off. “Dad, it’s fine, really. This is why we’re here, to help you!”

“Honey, no real twenty-something enjoys staying indoors as much as you two spend your time around this house. I’ve been there, two, don’t forget that.” Mr. Collins persisted, and although they did start eating, he stopped once more. “From what I’ve heard, there’s a party tonight. Mia Anderson is organizing a little something in some garden. I really think you two should go.”

“Dad, we’re fi-”

“We’re gonna think about it” Henry’s voice echoed from where he was seated opposite from Atlas, his position calm and collected, enjoying his dinner unperturbed.

+++++

“Why did you do that?” Atlas finally asked, removing the wet towel from her steamy body before putting on lingerie, not facing Henry. She couldn’t risk looking at him right now, his beautiful face absorbed in a book he’d brought with him, sitting cross legged on the armchair she’d begged for so much as a child. She knew that if she dared look at him now, she’d want to never get out of the room, and that was definitely not an option, not with her father around, not in her childhood room.

“What? You’re talking about the party?” Henry asked, his face bright and surprised, as if her words had pulled him completely out of a parallel universe he’d been fully absorbed during the time she was in the shower. “Because it’s for the sake of both of you” he added simply, putting the book down to get up and step towards Atlas, who was finally accepting she couldn’t avoid his stare any longer. With the easiest move, he placed one hand in the crook of her neck, rubbing his thumb along her delicate jawline. “He’s worried he’s being a burden, he doesn’t want to feel like a weight up on your shoulders, Atlas. And you – you’re tense and overwhelmed by everything that’s going on here and really, it’ll do you good to socialize and dance a little. Your father may be sick, but he’s not depending on your every move,” He ended with a soft rub of his thumb along her lower lip and then, like two planets crashing into one another in outer space, they kissed, a kiss so deep Atlas’s lips could have turned purple.

++++++

When they arrived at the party, everybody else seemed to be already there. She knew the garden so well, could remember all the parties she’d gone to held on the same exact spot as the one she was going to right now. The stupid, pubescent Skins-like wannabe raves they’d throw back in the day, dead on convinced they were having the time of their lives, with bottles of cheap wine and just one of whiskey, because it was more expensive than they could afford, and they turned it into a holy grail. She felt Henry’s warm hand on her back, and they proceeded towards the entrance.

There she was – Mia Anderson, the girl nobody really knew or cared about, commonly referred to as the ugly duckling by the meaner older guys, there she was, skin pale as ever, but so beautiful, Atlas couldn’t help feeling mesmerized. Her face was glowing from the lights they’d brought into the garden, delicate hands working magic at the DJ booth.

“Atlas?” a familiar voice rang from her left, forcing her to take her eyes away from Mia, convinced she was crushing on her. “It’s really you!” and then the voice pulled her into a hug, and it was only after she smelled the perfume on the other person’s neck did she realize it was really Shay Westward. Shay Westward, the richest girl in town, the first to know where to find really fine liqueur, the first to get the coolest gifts of all Beaufort kids. Shay, her childhood best friend.

“Hi! Oh my God, you’ve changed to much, I almost didn’t recognize you!” Atlas spoke, slightly absentmindedly, but trying desperately to make small talk. You’re supposed to feel things when you reconnect with your long time best friend, right? You’re supposed to be overwhelmed by nostalgia and the need to know exactly what they’d been up to, right? But dear God, how could Atlas push herself into feeling that when she was barely able to connect the dots between the faces and the names. It’d taken her a bit to remember who Mia Anderson was in the first place, before she actually landed at the party, and it seemed like things wouldn’t get any better.

“I’ve been good, yeah” Shay spoke with a smile on her face, nodding. “I’ve been, you know…” and then she fell short of words, simply pursing her lips in a wide smile, so visible they were both trying to act like nothing had changed, though it was so much the opposite.

“Atlas?” Henry’s comforting voice brought her back to reality, turning her head in his direction, almost forgetting about Shay. All of a sudden, there was a glass in his hand, but not the cheap red plastic kind, but real glass, making her burst into a soft laughter. “When you’re done making fun of me, just know I’ll be over there” he spoke, pointing towards a good looking blonde haired guy sipping from his own plastic cup, watching the people around him socialize and dance. He leaned in to kiss the side of her head and gave her a reassuring type, as if letting her loose to do whatever she pleased for the night.

A drink. She needed a drink, or two, or seven to even start getting in the mood. It took a hot minute to spot where the improvised bar was, and relieved to see there was plenty to choose from, she lit herself a cigarette from which she took a long drag, finally deciding to go for some Bacardi. “That’s a pretty good choice, I am all about the Bacardi, or actually any drink at all actually!” Yet another familiar voice, although the face of this wild blonde who clearly looked a little worked up was oddly more familiar than her old best friend’s.

It was the tooth gap that almost immediately helped Atlas recognize Beaufort’s super baddie, Arabella Finley. “I thought you’d moved away?” she could help but ask in amazement, smirking at the girl as they fake-clinked their plastic cups, swallowing the bitter liquid in an instant, ready to pour herself the next one.

“Yeah, I did, but now I’m back” she spoke, panting from her feet still moving to the admittedly catchy tunes on the dancefloor. Before she knew it, Arabella took off her shirt, revealing a tank top that did show quite a bit of cleavage, the type of thing she’d wear as a teenager too, back when they were both kids fooling around Beaufort. In a matter of seconds, this high voltage blonde grabbed Atlas’s hand, almost making her spill her drink, and dragged her straight in front of the DJ booth, the grass irregular and bumpy under their feet. “THE BEST PARTIES HAPPEN IN FRONT OF THE DJ!” Aria screamed over the music, and Atlas couldn’t help but laugh and start dancing, taking her own pullover off to reveal an unsurprising plain vintage tomboy t-shirt, wrapping the puffy sleeves just about her hips.

Five or six songs must have passed by and Atlas was now finishing her second cigarette, mouth dry and eager to indulge in some more bitterness. And just as she finished pouring herself a pretty hefty cup of Bacardi, a question caught her attention. “Do you have a lighter?”

A balloon exploded in her stomach, or a black hole formed inside her body, or both, or a universe set to flames just below her sternum. Out of all places in all the world, he was standing right there in front of her. “Oh my God!” It took a moment to let that sink in. “I can’t believe this…” a smile was slowly creeping up her lips, even her teeth showing a bit. “After all these years and you decide to greet me with the same line you used the first time we met?” And then he went on to hug her, of course, because that’s what people do, that’s what Shay did earlier too, and she could feel his scent, the warmth of his olive skin, the nicotine tint in his clothes. “Seriously, you really haven’t changed one bit, Jesus… What have you been up to?”

His effortless charm and the way he said ‘this and that’ like he really had done only this and that for the past, what, eleven years? “What about you?”

A moment of lingering – there was too much to say, really, and then, not too much either, so she just settled for “same”. This wasn’t the time or space for long, life-revealing talks. “This is truly unreal, I never really thought I’d ever see you again” she couldn’t help but say, feeling a little silly for repeating her disbelief this much, shaking her head a little before she added, in a lower voice, her sheepish smile gone from her lips. “I’ve missed you.”

Why? Why why why why why did she say that, why did it sound like a good idea to get sentimental, to say something of the sort to someone like him? And before she knew it, he hit right back. “Would you believe it if I told you I’ve missed you too?” Truthfully, yes, she could believe it if he told her that, she knew she could prove it was true, but she didn’t have the time to think about the prospect of Damien really missing her, because she should’ve known better about his quick moves.

“You know Atlas,” He cleared his throat a bit before continuing, “I’m staying at the Flamingo Motel and this party is kind of lame…”He was now leaning in towards her, aiming at the crook of her neck, and everything came back to her like a flashback that started playing right before her eyes, and there was no more music playing, just the faint echo of him saying ‘do you have a lighter’ for the first time and her moans the time they did the popping cherry, and the fxcking like rabbits in awfully badly chosen places because they were just kids, did they know any better?

It took all strength to control her voice and place her hand on his forearm, stepping back a little as she bit her lip. “Damien…”, but the look on his face, she knew it all too well, this was not a man to give up so easily. “Damien, I can’t do that… I’m engaged” she said, biting at the interior of her cheek, unsure how the news would go with him. “That’s why I’m back…”

There was a moment where even Damien stopped in his tracks, frozen, and Atlas couldn’t help but wonder whether this was the first time she’d ever taken him by surprise. “Well, then… Congratulations!” and just as she though he’d turn around and get the fxck out of there, he added, his cheeky flirty look on like a protective shield. “Room four. If you happen to change your mind.”

And then he dashed, just as unexpectedly as he’d popped up, and Atlas felt she was gonna be sick. Her knees were shaking and there was an odd mixture of anger and frustration building up in her, and as soon as she turned around on her heels, she bumped into Henry.

“You alright, babe?”

She nodded and rubbed her eye with her fingers, faking tiredness and a headache, anything that would be good enough to convince him it was time to go. “Yeah, I think my body just wasn’t ready for a party, I might crash in a bush to be honest.”

Henry didn’t say anything, only barely smiled with the corner of his mouth, placing his arm around her shoulders. She knew it wasn’t sleep that she lacked or a nudging migraine that she was fighting, but he didn’t ask further questions. He never asked uncomfortable things, not in public, at least, and Atlas didn’t know how thankful she had to be for a man like him. “Alright, then, let’s go” he spoke and a second later, Atlas was in his arms, bridal style, letting out a childish scream of surprise combined with a giggle. And just as she was wrapping her arms around his neck to secure herself in his grip, her eyes met Damien’s, dead cold.