Taste of Iron

Thirty Seven: You Are

Thirty Seven: You Are

"I know it's stupid and— okay, it's plain ugly. But I thought that—"

"I love it!" Emil exclaimed, a wide grin on his face as he stared at the print in his hands.

Atlas blinked. Emil had to be lying. His gift was objectively bad. He knew it. He didn't know what to get Emil, so at first he thought he'd bake a cake. But then cooking didn't really feel special anymore since he did it for Emil all the time. Atlas couldn't think of what to buy him, as anything that Emil would probably like was most certainly going to be out of his budget.

Atlas had been dabbling a little in digital art since Emil got him a MacBook to make up for breaking his old laptop. He was pretty terrible at it, but he had fun. So he decided to make a sketch of Emil and Fried Rice. Even the shopkeeper was giving him a weird look when he went to get it printed, and frankly, Atlas didn't blame him.

"You don't need to say that just for the sake of it," Atlas mumbled. "This is not your actual gift, okay? I'll buy you something better soon. I didn't have enough time so—"

"You don't need to get me anything else. This is perfect," Emil cut him off. "This is the best gift ever because you made it. It's thoughtful and it's...it's by you! It is you! Nothing you buy can beat that."

"But—"

"No buts," Emil shook his head. "The only thing you did wrong is that you didn't get it framed. But don't worry, I'll get that done first thing tomorrow and it's going on the living room wall."

"Oh god, please no," Atlas whispered, seeming horrified at the idea.

"Sh," Emil leaned forward, pecking Atlas's lips. "Thank you so much, baby. You putting in effort and being here with me right now... it means everything to me, Atlas."

Emil looked so genuine. He was staring at Atlas with so much adoration in his eyes that the chef couldn't help but melt a little under his intense gaze. It was powerful, and Atlas often wondered how Emil was able to convey his emotions so effortlessly.

"Atlas, I..." Emil paused, his expression suddenly changing. He seemed a little nervous now, and Atlas wasn't dumb, his eyes widened ever so slightly as he realized what Emil was about to say.

Atlas couldn't help but panic internally. He didn't want Emil to say it. Not yet, at least. He wasn't ready to say it back, and it would suck for Emil to confess for the first time, especially on his birthday, only to be met with silence. Sure, Atlas liked him. He really, really liked him. But love... Atlas had never used that word for anyone but his family.

"I think we should get out of the room and entertain the guests for a bit," Emil smiled softly, but it didn't quite reach his eyes like it usually did. There was sadness behind it, as if he could read Atlas the same way Atlas could read him. "As much as I wish to stay here with you all night... Taylor did work hard to organize all this and I'm sure he feels guilty already anyway."

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea," Atlas muttered. "Do you mind going first? I just need a minute. Gotta give a pep talk to myself before I face a bunch of gangsters."

"On that note," Emil frowned, "I think it's best I take you home. I don't think you should be around such people."

"I'll be fine," Atlas sighed. "They're a part of your life, aren't they? So I want to be here."

"They're not a good part of my life, Atlas," Emil stated. "One I'm trying to distance myself from, and I'd rather that you stay away from it too. For your own safety and for my peace of mind."

"Okay," Atlas shrugged. He didn't really mind. If anything, he was kind of relieved that Emil suggested this. "How about I just stay here? You can go and say hi to folks and then slip back in whenever you can."