Salmonella

Side Story - Atlas

🫧Atlas🫧

"Omigod Atlas, you were so good!"

"ATLAS~~"

"I love the fittt!"

"YOU'RE BEAUTIFULLL!"

"Are you and Filip dating for real?"

"You two make such a cute couple!!"

"I support you!"

"AtLip is real!!!"

"Atlas, what about meee?"

"Are you dating Filip or Verity?"

"You like Filip, right?"

RIGHT, ATLAS?

RIGHT??

RIGHT??!

They keep going, they keep GOING, until their words are all sloshed together and everything is blurry and I can't see any of them anymore, just their distorted black squiggles of faces with blood red eyes and big smiles.

I can't say anything. Can't tell them to stop and leave me alone; no, like the thespian I am, I have to act. I have to mask. I know none of them would understand. This is the life you chose, they'd say. You wanted fame, but then when you have it, you complain. So ungrateful.

Did I want the fame? Or did I just want to act? If I could choose the acting without the fame, I would, in a heartbeat. But how would a performer survive, if not for their audience? It's the artist's paradox.

On the one fin, I did want to be famous. Because fame meant success. It's why I never tell anyone about Kelp Paints. Always get people who swim by and recognize me to keep quiet about it. Don't even follow the store's Finstaclam, even though my popularity would help our store a lot, that's for sure. Because what would my fans think if they saw this side of Atlas Índigo, the not successful Atlas, the failure managing a boring little paint store? I shouldn't be here tangled up in cans of paint, I should be on the stage!

It's why I have to work harder. Train harder. Sing better. Dance better. Life is a competition, and there are always people ahead of you. There will always be those who sing better and dance better and snatch that off-Broadbay role you wanted. Always.

Then on the other fin, I was never prepared for what comes with popularity. The crowds, the eyes, the invaded personal space. Sometimes I just want to be ordinary again.

Or maybe I just want a normal fanbase. I just want someone who really sees me ...

Ella?

Out of all the blood red eyes and big smiles, I spot a real person in the crowd, her back to me, but I know it's her. Who wouldn't know it's her? No one else wears that shade of baby blue.

She's HERE??! Panic bubbles in my chest. There goes my attempt at keeping the show a secret from Paints. I really don't want any of them here and word getting around about my other job. Don't tell me Zig and Teal tagged along... I look around but don't see them. Just her.

I feel everything in me relax, because suddenly the crowd is gone and it's like I'm back at Paints with just a few people who listen to me and don't obsess over me or bombard me with invasive questions and don't see me as Atlas Índigo but just as a person, just as me.

Her eyes—her real merman eyes—meet mine and widen in recognition.

"Bent—" Shit. I remember where we are and correct myself. "Ella ..." Her friend pushes her towards me and she looks like she wants to disappear. "What are you doing here?"

Everyone is staring. I feel it. The feeling of being watched isn't foreign to me. As if I'm on stage again, it's like a spotlight is shining right on the two leads as they face each other in front of the vanity. But it's not me with Verity or Filip this time, it's me with Ella.

It's a pleasant surprise she came to the show. I can't believe she saw me perform. Was I bad? Did I hit all the notes? Was my tail injury noticeable through my dancing? She saw me in this costume??

Ella clearly isn't thinking the same as me right now; she very evidently does not want to be here right now, and I don't blame her, when everyone's eyes are on us. I tell her she and her friends should leave, thinking maybe if some people go it might get the rest of the crowd to clear out as well. Luckily Bane comes to save me at that very moment, ordering everyone out. I stare at him gratefully as he leads them into the hall, wrapping an arm around one of the girls. He acts like he's doing it all for me, but we both know he totally wanted to steal my fans' attention away.

I start changing out of my costume, but when I pop my head through the shirt and glance back at the mirror, another set of eyes stares back at me. Shit. She's still here?? She saw me change?? She—AGH!!

"Is something wrong?" I face her, swallowing hard. She's gotta be doing this to me on purpose now. There's no way.

Ella looks away seepishly and I expect her to snap at me, not shower me with compliments, not praise me for my performance so much that she grows angry over it. She thinks I'm talented? She's jealous of me?? That's so... cute...

But when she does get mad, when she accuses me of mistreating her and abusing my power at work, it makes a strange feeling bubble up in me. And I lash out. I realize a beat too late that I've just lashed out. That I shouldn't have lashed out, that I shouldn't have raised my voice, shouldn't have phrased it like that, shouldn't have insulted her when she did nothing wrong. What's gotten into me? I'm usually good at keeping my cool, keeping my feelings silent and buried forgotten in my chest, never to emerge.

Why am I like this with Ella? Angry. Jealous. Defensive. Rash. I always end up tearing down my walls without realizing and unveiling the ugly parts of me.

I hurt her. I realize it too late, trying to call after her, tears burning my eyes, but no words come out. All I can do is watch her storm from the room and clutch my chest that suddenly aches.

I hear Bane still ordering the audience members around outside, saying not to crowd the area and getting staff to kick them out. Then he peeks her head in the door once everyone's gone to check if I'm okay. I wipe my eyes shakily.

"What happened?" Bane tries to ask. "Was it the crowd? I'm sorry. I know you have anxiety, I should have been here—"

"I don't want to talk about it." I feel bad for being harsh, but it's Bane. He'll get me.

He nods slowly. "Want me to go?"

"Yeah," I whisper. "...Sorry."

They rub my shoulder. "Don't worry about it. I'll stay in here with you for the rest of the shows so no one bothers you again, okay?"

I nod gratefully, and they leave me here, alone with the ghosts of those harsh words I threw at Ella that I wish I could take back, every one of them. Why did I do that? I fucked it all up.

Everything.