On Thin Ice

39.

Atlas Miller

"You gonna go apologise?" Grey begins to question as he walks through the wooden door, welcoming the cold winter breeze into the compact interior of the cabin. 

"Not only for earlier, but everything you've said to her—"

"Jesus." Heavily, I sigh as I push myself off the uncomfortably hard mattress we were provided with to sleep on, snatching the white t-shirt that was carelessly tossed onto the chair beside my bed, I put it on before plopping back down to sit.

I'm hoping people who run this place get snapped back into reality if they think people enjoy sleeping on beds as hard as these.

"Atlas, are you even listening to me?"

"Yeah, yeah what's up?"

He sighs exaggeratedly. "Your head. It's way up in the fucking clouds," he retorts, fed up.

I scoff, supressing a laugh. "I'm not writing your daughter an apology letter."

"Yeah, because you'll be doing it in person," he corrects me — he was in his usual father stance, like I was a three year old being scolded for misbehaving.

"I'll pass." Plopping myself back so that my back was met with the wooden headboard, the bed creaks slightly due to my weight — I encase the black leather journal in my hand, which fit like a missing puzzle piece in the centre of my palm, before opening up to the page that I had bookmarked with the attached ribbon.

My fingers spin the pen continuously, before eventually, it manages to slip out of my grip and fall to the floor.

Wincing sarcastically as it made contact with the carpeted groud, I click my tongue and pick it back up before meeting Grey's fatherly scolding expression once again.

I shrug nonchalantly. "Clumsy me."

He sighs, more calmly this time — and not as if he wanted to murder me right on the spot.

"You're my best friend Atlas, you're a good guy and not once have I ever doubted that."

My eyes are glued to the empty page like it'd run off and abandon me in this painful conversation, but somewhat, I tried to soak in the words he was articulating.

Grey never failed to get into my head.

"I know it hasn't been easy for you, but neither has it been for Autumn. I just want you—"

Slamming the opposite sides of my notebook together, the sound echoes throughout the room and manages to reverberate off of the walls.

"Fine, I'll apologise tonight."

Taking a few seconds to scan my face, he presses his lips together before nodding and leaving the room without another spoken word.

- - -

I earn an oddly satisfying crunch for each time the sole of my boots made contact with the snow-covered ground; my eyes take in sight of the dimly lit campfire that a few other people sat around, attempting to warm themselves up like starved animals that had been left out in the wild to freeze.

My vision blurs out all unnecessary entities that surrounded her. Then, taking a couple of seconds to exhale slowly through my mouth, I mentally prepare myself before beginning to make my way over in Autumn's direction.

I continuously rephrase countless apologies in my head, each one sounding less and less genuine than the previous one, until I was no longer satisfied with any.