Taste of Iron

Twenty Two: Plans Are Made To Be Broken

Twenty Two: Plans Are Made To Be Broken

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Atlas muttered to himself as he paced around in his tiny living room. "What the fuck did I get myself into?"

When he agreed to go to Emil's place to help Taylor out, he knew that he was taking a risk. What he didn't know was how nervous he would feel when the day finally arrived. What was he even thinking when he said yes? He was literally about to walk into a criminal's home! Was he out of his goddamn mind?

Atlas ran a hand through his hair, cursing the day he lost the bet with his oldest brother Trent and dyed it for the first time. He didn't think much of it, and had gotten the blue color as it was the only one available. But Damian seemed to really like it. The man had an obsession with everything blue, so Atlas kept up with it and eventually began to like the color on him.

Atlas sighed, sitting down on the couch as he took his phone out of his pocket. There was only one person that he could talk to that would calm him down, so he dialled his number and waited as the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hey," Atlas spoke. "What's up?"

"I was re-watching Death Note," answered Damian. "I didn't know what to watch so I decided to write down all of my favorite shows in alphabetical order and then I asked Hannah to pick a number."

"That's a fun way to make decisions," Atlas replied with a soft smile.

"Yes, it is. You can make a list of all your favorite dishes and I can pick a number so that way you won't have to think too much whenever you're cooking for yourself," Damian suggest. "Though you will need to categorize it by whether you have the required ingredients or not. Hm, it might be more complicated to do this with food than with shows."

"I'm sure you can figure something out," Atlas said. "You are the smartest sibling."

"No. I'm not," Damian deadpanned. "That's Hannah. She got straight A's this year. I never got straight A's in school."

"Getting A's isn't the only thing that makes you smart," Atlas explained. "Intelligence is also defined by how effectively you deal with what life throws at you. And you're great at that."

"I am?"

"You are."

"Thanks," Damian whispered. "Why did you call? Is it something important? Because I would like to go back to watching my show."

"You mind pausing if for a few minutes?" Atlas asked, unbothered by Damian's question. It was hard for his brother to read the room sometimes or pick on other's emotions, but Atlas knew that didn't mean that he didn't care.

"Okay."

"I... I'm in a tricky situation. Kind of," Atlas stated.

"What do you mean?"

"There's someone..."

"You have a boyfriend?" Damian questioned, making Atlas scoff and shake his head even though the other man couldn't see him.

"No!" Atlas exclaimed. For once, he was glad that Damian was unlikely to notice how defensive the chef sounded. "He's not my boyfriend."

"Okay."

"He invited me over," Atlas paused. "And I said yes. He's coming to pick me up in about...half an hour. And I'm kind of freaking out."

"Why?"

"Because..." Atlas trailed off. There was no way in hell that he could tell his brother the exact reason why he was panicking. "Because he likes me. But I can't like him back. But...but... it's just complicated and he confuses me so much."