Taste of Iron

Thirty Six: Cats Don't Like Blue Hair

Thirty Six: Cats Don't Like Blue Hair

Atlas didn't know how he ended up at Emil's door again, but that's where he was.

Emil had insisted on picking him up, but the chef put his foot down and said no. He didn't want Emil going out of his way and wasting his time on unnecessary travel when Atlas could just take the subway. Emil wasn't happy about it, but Atlas told him he would make it up to him in... other ways.

Atlas glanced at the wrapped box in his hand, feeling incredibly stupid. He was tapping his foot, waiting for Emil to open. He couldn't recall the last time he was this nervous, but it was too late to turn around now.

It all happened two days ago. Ava and Taylor had stopped by the restaurant to say hi (and get lunch). During the conversation, they had let it slip that it was Emil's birthday that weekend. Atlas was dumbfounded. He hadn't known about it as Emil never mentioned anything. Though to be fair, Atlas hadn't ever told him when his birthday was either.

Anyway, Emil acted all casual about it, claiming that he didn't really care about his birthday. Taylor wanted a big party, but that was a strict no from Emil. He kept shooting down all of the ideas, until Atlas suggested just a small get together with his close friends. Emil couldn't say no to the chef, so he finally agreed.

Atlas didn't have much time to buy Emil a proper gift. He didn't even know what to get him. Emil was loaded and already had everything he could want, so Atlas was at a loss for ideas. In the end, he finally sucked it up and made something. It seemed like a good plan at first, but now that Atlas had it wrapped and ready... he hated it. It was stupid and childish and... just stupid.

The door finally opened, and instead of Emil, it was Esteban. He nodded at Atlas, who returned the gesture before letting him in.

Atlas was expecting it to be just him, Emil, and his three close friends, but instead... it seemed like Taylor got his wish and they had a massive party happening. Atlas was caught off-guard, and a little intimidated by the amount of people there.

"Where's Emil?" Atlas asked. Esteban shrugged, his hands in his pocket. "Huh?"

"He was pissed and he left. I think he locked himself in his room," Esteban answered.

Atlas frowned, but nodded nonetheless as he made his way through the crowd of people to head to Emil's bedroom. Atlas was confused by the kind of folks he saw there. Some were dressed in formal business suits, and others in tight shirts with fully inked arms. It was... interesting.

Atlas knocked at the door, anxiously waiting once again. He tried to turn the knob, but it was locked.

"Emil?" Atlas spoke. "Are you there? It's me. At—"

Before Atlas could even say his name, the door opened with a jolt. Emil looked frustrated as he pulled the chef in, before shutting it locked once again.

"Uh..."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there to greet you," Emil said, wrapping his arms around the blue-haired man. "I don't know why Taylor thought it would be a good idea to throw me a surprise party when I very clearly told him that I didn't want—"

"Hey, hey," Atlas furrowed his brows as he rubbed the gangster's back. "It's okay. I get you. I'm not really big on parties either."

"I get that he was coming from a good place...but man he can be really dense sometimes," Emil sighed as he pulled away, before walking back to his bed and sitting on it. Atlas watched as Fried Rice climbed on top of Emil's lap.

"So now you're hiding in your room?" Atlas rose a brow.

"It's too loud outside. And I don't even like half the people there. Also, I'm pretty damn sure at least one fight is going to break out. Taylor really messed up with the guest list," Emil muttered as he petted Fried Rice's head, making the cat purr.