Always Atlas

23 ➵ I'm Here

ALWAYS 

ATLAS

I sucked in a deep breath as I tried to stop myself from panting as the soft sound of my small boney fist knocking on Atlas' apartment door echoed down the hallway quiet and fancy hallway of the equally rich looking apartment building.

Patiently I wait for him to open the door but five minutes later and still I haven't heard any movement within the apartment. A part of me got pissed off because I had rushed to get here just to see what was up with him and now it seems to me that he's not even home.

I was about to knock again when the shiny doorknob caught my eye. It took almost everything within me to not twist it to see if it would open as that would be classed as trespassing and invading his privacy if he were in there somewhere.

But curiosity did kill the cat.

Slowly twisting the cold metal with my small hand, I spun it to the right, expecting it to stop and not allow me inside it did the opposite, it twisted all the way around and the door was now slowly opening due to me pushing on it slowly.

"Atlas?" I called out nervously as I cautiously walked through the front door and into his seemingly empty apartment.

Looking around I noticed that all of the walls were painted white, hung on some of the walls were expensive paintings that were beautiful; and I someday wished that my art would be that good.

To the left was a decently large open marbled kitchen, it looked over the big open lounge area which held a grey couch which held a lot of cushions on it, it sat on a rug and there was also a massive television mounted onto the wall right in front of the couch.

To the right was my favourite part of the dark and cold apartment, it was the large ceiling to floor-length windows. It overlooked London city, it was quite beautiful in my opinion, I would kill to live in a place like this.

Something to the side of the apartment catches my eye, it was a broken vase and a hole punched in the wall. I didn't know how old the hole in the wall had been there as I've never been here before but the vase must have been recent as it still laid there shattered into tiny pieces.

A head popping up from the couch is what scares the hell out of me for a split second. I soon realize that it was in fact Atlas Westbrook who looked absolutely upset and conflicted, conflicted over what? I have not a single idea but I believe I'm going to find out soon.

He turns away from me and stares forward at the tall blank wall which was right in front of him. I sighed loudly as I walked over to where he sat on the couch, I knelt down in front of him so that I was now in his line of sight. 

I slowly reached both of my hands up and placed them onto his knees to try and stabilize my small body, I give him a stare that just screams 'I'm here what's wrong.'. "I'm here." I state softly as I try and search his blue eyes for answers but I come up with nothing. "Not like physically--I mean, that too. But what I mean is--I'm here for you. Talk or don't talk but I'm here either way." 

God, I must sound so damn pathetic for rambling.

When he doesn't say a word, I take that as a hint that he's not ready to talk yet so I stand up and reposition myself on the opposite end of his L-shaped couch. I rest my head on the arm of the couch and grab one of the cushions off the floor, using it to hug it to my body, in hopes that it would block him from being able to see my stomach and hear it grumble.

A few minutes pass and Atlas still hasn't moved or said a single word, he reminded of a stone-cold statue, frozen in its place. The quiet is nice, it gives me heaps of time to think, think about how nice the walk to Atlas' apartment was even though it took me so long to get here as it's ages away but fuck it made me feel so good.