Fragments of Us

Chapter Twety-One: Adored

Atlas’s parents, Sally and Ali, stood in the doorway, their expressions shifting from surprise to something softer—warmer. Sally’s eyes flickered briefly between Atlas and Milo, a spark of recognition igniting.

   “Milo?” she said, almost breathless.

   “Hi, Mrs. Carter,” Milo replied, his tone polite but tinged with uncertainty.

   “It’s Sally, dear,” she corrected with a smile, stepping forward. “It’s been so long. Look at you.”

Ali, towering but gentle in demeanor, followed her lead, offering a firm but kind handshake. “Milo. Good to see you again.”

Milo nodded, unsure of what to say. He wasn’t expecting to see them, and the surprise seemed to throw Atlas off even more. Atlas’s nervous energy was palpable, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his shoulders slightly hunched as if bracing himself for something.

Sally’s gaze turned to her son. “You didn’t tell us you were bringing company.”

   “I didn’t know you’d be here,” Atlas admitted, his voice quiet, almost cautious.

For a moment, there was a strange silence, a tension beneath the surface that neither Milo nor Atlas seemed willing to address. Then Sally broke it with a cheerful clap of her hands.

   “Well, this is a lovely surprise!” she said, her voice bright. “Milo, you must join us for dinner. Ali’s cooking tonight.”

   “Oh, no, I wouldn’t want to impose—” Milo started, but Sally waved him off.

   “Nonsense! Ali makes enough to feed a small army,” she said with a laugh, nudging her husband.

Ali smiled, his tone calm and reassuring. “We’d love to have you stay, Milo.”

Milo hesitated, glancing at Atlas, who looked torn between mortification and something that resembled gratitude. “It’s okay,” Atlas murmured, his voice just loud enough for Milo to hear.

Finally, Milo relented, offering a small nod. “Alright. Thank you.”

Sally beamed. “Wonderful! I’ll let you boys catch up for now. I'll call you boys when dinner's ready.”

Atlas motioned for Milo to follow him upstairs, his movements slightly stiff. As they ascended, Sally and Ali exchanged a look. Sally, her voice low and brimming with quiet disbelief, muttered, “No way.”

Ali chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Let them be.”

Upstairs, Atlas led Milo into his room. It was simple and unassuming, with clean lines and a few personal touches: framed posters of old concerts, a stack of vinyl records by the window, and a desk cluttered with notes and books.

Atlas shut the door behind them, exhaling sharply. “I swear I didn’t know they’d be here.”

   “It’s fine,” Milo said, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed.

   “They’re going to make this a thing,” Atlas muttered, pacing the room.

   “A thing?”

Atlas stopped, turning to face him. “You know, like... hope for something. For us.”

Milo raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Is that so bad?” he teased, his tone light but with just enough weight to make Atlas pause.

Atlas blinked, caught off guard, before realizing Milo was joking. He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

Milo leaned back slightly, his grin fading into something more thoughtful as his gaze drifted to the posters on the wall. “Relax. It’s just dinner.”