The Queen of Golden Flame

12. Atlas

Atlas swung the door closed behind him, the hinges shrieking until the lock clicked and the two were officially alone.

Ilya stood with his back to Atlas, but there was no mistaking the taut rigidness in his form. Arms tucked behind his back in an orderly fashion, a soldier at attention, all uniform and well mannered and Atlas considered that in another life Ilya might've been a perfect fit for the Otherian military.

Atlas strode towards his desk and hunched over his work, busily shuffling through his messy stacks of paperwork, hands itching to stay busy. He looked at Ilya through his lashes, but the man couldn't seem to meet his eye, or maybe he just refused to.

When he did not prompt the conversation, Atlas joked, "What did you want to talk to me about? Hope it wasn't a raise."

"You don't pay me," Ilya reminded him, but his usually lighthearted voice sounded off to Atlas, almost limp. "Our clients do."

"I at least hand you your share though, right?" Atlas winked at his friend sarcastically, but Ilya's eyes darted back to the floor without so much as a pity laugh. He hid his face behind his papers and leafed through them loudly. "Sorry. Got off track there. What's it, Ilya?"

Ilya bit the inside of his cheek, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "When this job is over and we all go our separate ways..."

Atlas gave him an expecting glance. "Spit it out, Asteria. I know you can."

Ilya huffed a breath and drew his broad shoulders near. "When this mission is over I'm leaving the crew."

Atlas's papers stopped mid air, his fingers too stiff to move. Heart leaping into his throat, he tapped the stack on the desk and watched them all fall into a neat manner. He put them down and knitted his fingers together in a professional fashion.

Atlas shrugged. "That's fine."

Ilya's tight-lipped grimace faltered, panicked into confusion until inevitably his brows pinched in skepticism, the muscles in his neck taut. "You're-" He began, but his voice failed him and he swallowed thickly. "You're just going to let me leave? Just like that?"

"Just like that. Just, y'know, don't forget about me and Ams, okay? Come visit when you get the chance."

Ilya did not speak for torturous seconds, his jaw clenched so tight Atlas was certain it might've been locked and he wanted nothing more than to stare at his lap, but he just smiled and held Ilya's wide eyed gaze.

Then he said hollowly, "That's it?"

Atlas chuckled softly. "Yeah, that's it. That's what you always wanted. We shook it. Remember? The deal was that if you helped me get some better jobs I'd help you get to Sele. I knew you were never gonna stay forever."

"Yeah- I mean I never expected to stay here four years, but you- You wanted me to be your quartermaster. That's all you've ever talked about since I joined."

"Yeah, of course I wanted you to, Ilya. You're my first crewmate. My best friend. It made sense."

He didn't admit that he'd thought he was going to take the position when they started this conversation. Even still as Ilya stood before him, he wished that were true. "But I always knew you wanted to be more than this, and now I understand why you didn't ever try to take it."

Ilya's tone was nearly a warning. "Atlas-"

Atlas stood abruptly from his chair and walked around the desk so that he was face to face with Ilya. He planted his hands on Ilya's shoulders and squeezed them tight. "You are going to be the best violin player that Sele has ever seen. Everyone in every country will soon know your name and you'll show your papa that it was all worth it in the end. People move on. It is how it is."