The marina was quiet except for water lapping against hulls and the distant clank of rigging against masts.
Noah walked down the dock. Wood creaked under his feet. His phone was already out.
Noah:I'm here.
Sent.
He could see Atlas's boat at the end. Lights on. White hull catching the glow from dock lamps.
His phone buzzed.
Atlas:Come up.
Noah pocketed it. Kept walking.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
Say it. Say you're sorry. That's all.
But his throat was already closing before he even reached the boat.
Atlas appeared at the railing. Dark jeans. White t-shirt. Barefoot still. Hair pushed back but falling forward slightly.
"Hey."
"Hey."
Noah climbed aboard. The boat shifted under his weight. He steadied himself on the railing.
They stood there. Six feet apart.
Atlas gestured toward the cabin. "Come on."
---
Inside was warmer. Wood paneling, low lighting, the faint smell of cedar and salt. A half-empty bottle of whiskey on the counter. Two glasses beside it.
Atlas moved to the galley. "You want something?"
Noah shook his head. "No. I'm—I'm good."
Atlas poured himself whiskey anyway. Neat. Two fingers. The liquid caught the light, amber and gold.
He turned. Leaned against the counter. Glass in hand.
Studied Noah. Taking inventory.
"How are you?"
The question was simple. The weight behind it wasn't.
Noah swallowed. "I'm okay."
Quieter than he meant.
Atlas's mouth curved. Not quite a smile. "You had beer."
Noah blinked. "What?"
"I can smell it."
Heat crept up Noah's neck. "Oh. Yeah. A little."
Atlas's lips twitched. "With Clara and Elias?"
"Yeah."
Neither spoke for a moment.
Atlas took a drink. Slow. Not breaking eye contact.
Then he moved. Walked past Noah toward the stairs. "Come on."
---
The upper deck was colder. Wind off the water. The city spread out behind them, lights reflecting off dark water.
Atlas pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Shook one loose. Lit it. The flame illuminated his face for a second—sharp jaw, shadows under his eyes, exhaustion living there.
He exhaled smoke. It curled up, disappeared into the night.
Noah stood near the window. Hands in his pockets. Watching the water, the lights, anything but Atlas.
Say it.
"I'm sorry."
Too quiet. Too small.
Atlas turned. "What?"
Noah forced himself to meet his gaze.
"I'm sorry."
Atlas didn't move. Glass in one hand, cigarette in the other. Waiting.
Noah's hands curled in his pockets. "For what I said. That day. About—" He stopped. Swallowed hard. "The Instagram video. Mark and Lisa. For accusing you of—"
His voice cracked.
He dropped his gaze. "I'm sorry."
Water against the hull. A halyard clinking somewhere down the dock. Wind moving through the rigging.
Noah waited. Counted his heartbeats. Five. Ten. Fifteen.
Say something. Please.
Nothing.
He glanced up.
Atlas was staring at him. Face unreadable. Jaw tight.
Their gazes held.
Noah forgot how to breathe.
Then—at the same time—they both turned away.
Atlas brought the cigarette to his lips. Inhaled deep. Exhaled slow.
"They're close friends," he said finally. Voice rough. "Lisa and Mark. Since we were kids."
Pause.
"I didn't cheat on you."
The words hit Noah in the chest. Physical. Like someone pressing down on his sternum.
He watched Atlas.
Atlas's shoulders were rigid. His grip on the glass was too tight. Knuckles pale.
"Liam—" Atlas stopped. Took another drag. "I ran into him at that party. First time since the breakup. We didn't—" He shook his head. "Before or after. Nothing. I don't—" His jaw clenched. "He doesn't matter."
Noah swallowed. "Okay."
Atlas set his glass down. Too hard. It rattled against the table.
He turned away. Lit another cigarette even though the first one was still burning in the ashtray.
"Do you—" Noah's voice came out hoarse. He cleared his throat. "Do you still talk to him?"
Atlas turned back. Fast. "No."
The word was sharp. Final.
"We broke up a long time ago. Before I even came back to New York." He leaned against the table. Arms crossed. Cigarette between his fingers. "No contact. Nothing."
Noah nodded. Stared at his hands.
More quiet. Heavier this time.
He moved toward the window. Pressed his back against the glass. Cold seeped through his shirt.
"You were so cold," Noah said. The words escaped before he could stop them. "I couldn't—I couldn't reach you. You shut me out."
The last words barely made it out.
Atlas's hand tightened on his glass. Noah watched his fingers go rigid. Watched the muscle in his jaw jump.
"You shut the door," Noah said. Quieter now. Fragile. "On me. And I—"
He stopped. His heart was racing. He pressed his hand against his chest. Trying to slow it down.
Atlas drained his whiskey in one swallow. Took a deep drag of his cigarette.
Noah could see it. The way Atlas's shoulders had gone tight. The way he wouldn't meet his gaze.
Then Atlas spoke.
"So you assumed I was cheating."
Not a question. A statement.
Direct. Unflinching.
Noah flinched anyway.
"People usually do that," Noah said. Defensive. "Instead of—instead of saying it."
Atlas's gaze sharpened. "You think that's what I'd do?" Voice low. Controlled. "If I wanted to end it, you think I'd—" He stopped. Shook his head. "You think I'd do that?"
"I don't know."
Whispered.
Atlas stared at him. "You don't know."
"I didn't—" Noah's throat closed. "I didn't know you. You didn't let me know you."
Atlas set his glass down. Poured more whiskey. Turned back to Noah.
"You didn't know me," he repeated.
"No." Noah's voice was shaking now. "You ignored me. You—you acted like I wasn't there. What was I supposed to think? How was I supposed to feel?"
Atlas took a sharp breath through his nose. His shoulders lifted. Tense.
"I was trying to control myself."
The confession scraped out. Like it hurt to say.
Noah stared at him. "Why?"
Atlas turned away. Faced the water. Stared out at the dark expanse. His grip on the glass was white-knuckled.
Time stretched.
Noah waited. Heart hammering.
Then Atlas spoke. Quiet. Almost too quiet to hear over the wind.
"The idea of seeing you with someone else—" He stopped. "It bothered me."
Noah's chest ached.
He knew. Without asking, he knew.
"The lobby," he said. "That day."
Atlas turned his head. Nodded once.
Noah noticed it then. The redness around Atlas's eyes. The way his throat was working.
"He was a friend," Noah said. Voice thick now. "Like yours. Like Mark and Lisa."
Atlas closed his eyes. "I know."
He drained his whiskey. Poured another.
"You could've told me," Noah said.
Atlas stared at him. Expression unreadable.
Then Noah felt it rising. The words he'd been holding back. The hurt.
"You made me feel invisible." It burst out. Fast. Before he could stop it. "Like I was—like I didn't—"
He couldn't finish.
The memory hit him. Sharp. All those moments flashing through his mind—Atlas turning away, Atlas not answering, Atlas cold and distant and unreachable.
Vision blurred. He turned away. Blinked hard.
Don't. Don't cry. Not here.
But it was too late.
The words echoed in Atlas's head. Loud. Too loud.
Invisible.
He tried to breathe. Couldn't. Lit another cigarette with shaking hands.
Measured the distance between them. Too far. Not far enough.
Atlas watched Noah trying to hold himself together. Watched him turn away, jaw tight, shoulders hunched.
Trying to control it. The way Atlas always did.
"I'm sorry."
Voice scraped raw.
Noah's head turned. Fast.
Atlas met his gaze. Held it.
Both of them had red-rimmed eyes now. Neither bothering to hide it anymore.
"I'm sorry," Atlas said again. Direct. Meaning it.
They both turned toward the water. Seeking cover. Hiding.
The tears came anyway.
Silent. Sliding down cheeks. Catching light.
Neither acknowledged it. Neither spoke.
They stood there. Six feet apart. Both breaking quietly.
---
Time passed. Noah didn't know how much.
Eventually he wiped his face with the back of his hand. Quick. Like he could erase it.
"I was scared too." Voice thick. "Of losing you."
Pause.
"And of—" He stopped. The words stuck.
Atlas waited.
"Of disappearing into your life," Noah finished. Quieter.
Atlas turned. Sharply. "What?"
Noah met his gaze.
"You're—" Noah gestured vaguely. "Sometimes you're right here. Sometimes you're so far away I can't reach you. And you—" Voice cracking. "You forget I have a life. That I exist outside of—"
He couldn't finish.
Atlas bit his lip. Hard. The veins in his neck stood out.
"Sometimes—" He stopped. Started over. "Sometimes I don't know how to be around you."
Noah stared at him.
"You always know what you're doing," Noah said. Hesitant. Confused.
Atlas's laugh was short. Bitter. "Not with you."
Understanding passed between them.
"With you it's different."
Noah's vision blurred. He turned his head away.
The sound of waves filled the space. A seagull crying somewhere. The city humming behind them.
Atlas poured himself more whiskey. Drank it. Poured again.
"I can't stay calm." Voice low. "It's like—everything falls apart around you. But also comes together. Both at once."
Noah smiled. Small. Sad. Wet around the eyes.
"I'm not trying to fix you." Barely a whisper.
Pause.
"I want to stay."
Atlas's head lifted.
They faced each other.
No words.
Atlas stubbed out his cigarette. Ground it into the ashtray.
"Maybe—" Voice rough. "Maybe that's enough."
Noah nodded.
"Even that's a lot."
And they both stood there, watching the water—
not moving closer, not moving away.
Staying.
In the same place.
---
The quiet stretched longer.
Wave sounds. A car passing somewhere in the distance. Wind in the rigging.
Noah breathed in. Took a few steps toward the door.
"I can go. If you want."
Atlas didn't turn at first. Watched the last ember of his cigarette die.
Then—slowly—he turned.
Several seconds, he watched Noah—
Then his hand moved. Reached out. Caught Noah's wrist.
"Don't."
One word. Quiet.
Noah stopped.
Atlas's thumb pressed against his pulse point. Found the rapid beat there. Held it.
He stood. Closed the distance between them.
The air shifted. Warmed slightly.
Neither of them knew exactly what they were doing. Words had run out. Bodies understood what mouths couldn't say.
Atlas lifted his arm. Pulled Noah toward him.
Noah's head found Atlas's shoulder. Both of them breathed in.
Tears came again. Silent. Soaking into fabric.
They held on. Tight. Like letting go meant losing something they couldn't afford to lose.
Noah's fingers curled into Atlas's shirt. Atlas's arms wrapped around him completely. One hand in his hair. One on his back.
They stayed like that. Heartbeats loud. Breathing ragged.
Time stopped mattering.
Eventually—minutes, maybe longer—they pulled back slightly.
Both wiped their faces. Quick. Trying to be discreet. Failing.
"I missed you." Voice wrecked.
"I missed you too."
Atlas's hands were still on him. One sliding down his back. Fingers trailing to his waist. His hip. Resting there.
The touch was tentative. Testing. Asking.
Noah inhaled sharply.
Atlas's other hand moved. Traced up his spine. Settled at the small of his back. Pulled him closer.
Not far. Closer.
Noah tilted his head up.
Atlas was already watching his mouth.
Noah's lips parted slightly.
He glanced down. At Atlas's mouth. The curve of his lower lip.
His chest loosened.
He smiled. Small. Real.
Then leaned up. Pressed his lips to Atlas's.
Soft. Brief. Careful.
When he pulled back, Atlas's pupils were blown wide.
"That's it?" Voice rough. Low.
Noah's smile widened.
Atlas didn't wait for an answer.
He closed the distance. Kissed him properly. Slow. Deep. Deliberate.
Noah responded. Immediately. Hand sliding up to Atlas's shoulder. The back of his neck. Into his hair.
Atlas made a sound. Low in his throat.
His hands moved. One sliding fully to Noah's ass. Gripping. The other flat against his lower back. Holding him there.
The kiss deepened. Turned hungry. Desperate.
Weeks of not touching. Not having. Not being this close.
It poured into the kiss. Into the way their bodies pressed together. Into the way hands moved—learning again, remembering, claiming.
Noah gasped. Atlas swallowed it. Kissed him harder.
They broke apart. Foreheads pressed together. Breathing hard.
"Missed you," Atlas said again. Against Noah's mouth.
Noah kissed him instead of answering. Harder this time. His hands fisted in Atlas's shirt and pulled him closer.
Atlas made a noise—half surprise, half relief—and grabbed Noah's waist.
When they broke apart, Atlas was staring at him. His lips were already swollen.
Noah couldn't look away from his mouth.
"Inside," Noah said. Not a question. "Now."
Atlas nodded fast. "Yeah. Okay."
Noah took his hand and led him down the stairs. Their palms were sweaty. Neither let go.
Inside the cabin, Noah turned and pushed Atlas against the wall. Kissed him hard.
Atlas groaned into his mouth. His hands came up to grip Noah's hips.
Noah pulled back and reached for the hem of Atlas's shirt. Tugged it up.
Atlas lifted his arms and helped. The shirt got stuck for a second on his watch and they had to wrestle it off.
Before it even hit the floor, Noah's hands were on Atlas's chest. Sliding up, feeling muscle, feeling him breathe too fast.
"Noah—"
Noah kissed him again. Atlas's hands went to his shirt and pulled it up. Noah broke the kiss long enough to let him take it off.
Then they were pressed together, skin to skin, and Atlas made this sound low in his throat.
Noah grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him deeper. Atlas's hands tightened on his waist, then slid down to his ass and pulled him flush against him.
Noah gasped into his mouth.
"Bed," Atlas breathed.
"Yeah."
They moved together toward it. Noah's hands went to Atlas's belt, fumbling with the buckle while they kissed.
Atlas worked on Noah's jeans at the same time. Got the button open, then the zipper.
They fell onto the bed together. Atlas landed on his back and Noah followed him down, not breaking the kiss.
Noah pulled back and sat up, straddling Atlas's hips. He shoved his jeans down and kicked them off.
Atlas was staring up at him. His chest rising and falling fast. His hands came up to Noah's thighs, gripping.
"Come here," Atlas said.
"Help me with yours first."
Atlas lifted his hips and Noah helped him get his jeans off. They landed somewhere on the floor.
Then Noah leaned down and kissed him again. Slower this time. Atlas's hands slid up his back, holding him close.
"I missed this," Noah said against his mouth. "I missed you so much."
Atlas made a choked sound. His arms tightened around Noah.
Noah sat back up. Looked down at him. Atlas's hair was a mess. His eyes were dark and his lips were red from kissing.
"I thought about this every day," Noah said. His voice was rough. "Thought about you. About this."
Atlas's jaw clenched. "Noah—"
"I wanted to call you so many times." Noah's hands moved over Atlas's chest, down his stomach. "I wanted—" His voice broke. "I wanted you back."
Atlas sat up fast. Wrapped his arms around Noah and held him tight. His face pressed into Noah's neck.
"I'm sorry," Atlas said. "I'm so sorry."
Noah's arms came around him. "I know. Me too."
They held each other. Both breathing hard. Both shaking slightly.
Atlas pulled back and cupped Noah's face with both hands. Kissed him. Soft at first, then deeper.
Noah's hands went to Atlas's boxers. Pushed them down.
Atlas helped, then reached for Noah's. They got them off together.
Nothing between them now.
Noah's breath caught. Atlas's hands were on his hips, gripping hard.
"I need you," Noah said. Looking right at him. "Right now."
Atlas nodded. His throat moved with a swallow. "Yeah. Yes."
Noah pushed him back down on the bed. Atlas went, pulling Noah with him.
They kissed again. Desperate now.
Atlas's hands moved down Noah's back, gripping his hips. "I want—" He stopped. His voice was rough. "Can I—"
"Yes." Noah didn't let him finish. "Yes."
Atlas reached over to the nightstand. Fumbled with the drawer. Came back with what they needed.
Noah watched him. His heart was racing. He reached down and helped.
Atlas was careful. Patient. His hands were shaking but his touch was gentle.
Noah's breath caught. He closed his eyes.
"Okay?" Atlas's voice was strained.
"Yeah. Keep going."
It took time. Neither rushed. Atlas kept asking. Noah kept answering.
When Atlas finally moved over him, they both went still for a moment. Just breathing.
"Look at me," Noah said.
Atlas opened his eyes. Looked down at him.
"I love you," Noah said.
Atlas's breath caught. His eyes got wet. "What?"
"I love you," Noah said again. Meaning it. "I never stopped."
Atlas made this sound—broken and relieved at the same time—and leaned down to kiss him.
They started moving together. Slow at first. Finding their rhythm again after so long.
Noah's hands gripped Atlas's shoulders. Atlas's face was buried in his neck, breathing hard.
"Noah—" Atlas's voice was wrecked.
Noah pulled him closer. "I'm here. I've got you."
They moved together. Not perfect. Not smooth. But real.
Noah felt everything—Atlas's weight, his breath, the way he was holding back, trying to be gentle.
"Don't hold back," Noah breathed. "I want all of you."
Atlas made a choked sound. His movements became more urgent. Noah met him, wrapped his legs around his waist, pulled him deeper.
"I'm close," Noah gasped.
"Me too—" Atlas's voice broke.
Noah pulled him down into a kiss. They moved together until Atlas tensed and gasped his name.
Feeling Atlas fall apart pushed Noah over the edge. He held onto Atlas tight and followed him.
They both went still. Just breathing. Holding onto each other.
After a moment, Noah lifted his head. Looked down at Atlas.
Atlas was staring up at him. His eyes were red. Wet.
"I love you too," Atlas said. His voice was rough and thick. "I love you so much."
Noah felt his own eyes sting. He leaned down and kissed him. Soft this time. Gentle.
When he pulled back, they were both crying a little. Neither tried to hide it.
Atlas reached over and grabbed his shirt from the floor. Cleaned them both up carefully. His hands were shaking.
Noah lay down beside him and Atlas immediately pulled him close. Wrapped his arms around him and held on tight.
Noah pressed his face against Atlas's chest. He could hear his heart beating too fast. Could feel him breathing.
"I thought I lost you," Atlas said into his hair. "When you left—I thought that was it."
"I thought you wanted me to leave." Noah's voice was muffled against his chest. "I thought you didn't want me anymore."
"Never." Atlas's arms tightened. "I always wanted you. I just—I didn't know how to show it."
Noah lifted his head. "Show me now."
Atlas looked at him. Then he cupped Noah's face and kissed him. Slow and deep and full of everything he couldn't say.
When they broke apart, Noah settled back against him. Atlas's hand moved to his hair, fingers running through it gently.
"Stay," Atlas said quietly. "Tonight. Tomorrow. Stay."
"I'm not going anywhere." Noah's hand spread flat over Atlas's heart. "Not anymore."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
They lay there in the dark. The boat rocked gently beneath them. Water lapped at the hull.
Atlas's breathing started to even out. His hand in Noah's hair slowed, then stilled.
Noah listened to his heartbeat. Felt his warmth. Breathed him in.
For the first time in over a month, everything felt right.
His eyes closed. Sleep pulled at him.
"I love you," he whispered.
Atlas's arms tightened around him. "I love you too."
They fell asleep like that. Tangled together. Holding on.
Neither let go through the night.