"You are incredibly annoying," Atlas announced as he walked down the stone path that led through his garden, a watering can in his hand. Behind him, following like ducklings down the one-person stone path, was Marcel, Diego, and Thierry. Marcel was the one currently begging, though the three men were alternating between who spoke the deeper they got into Atlas's garden. It was nearing autumn, which meant the majority of the plants were wilting already, so Atlas only focused on the ones that weren't. He bent to water a batch of dahlias bordering his other wilting plants as he added, "Karaoke's not my thing. You know that."
"You don't have to sing," Diego cut in, sneaking around Marcel to get closer. His arm was being thrown around Atlas's shoulder a second later, bringing him in close. "But you do have to cheer for us. Please? Socializing is good for you, and we won't put you on the spot or anything. Scout's honor." Atlas didn't particularly believe him. He was already going to Marcel's party later that night, was already attending Jane-Anne Deveraux's trial as soon as the sun went down. He knew Diego, Thierry, Marcel, and everyone else in Marcel's inner circle would be drunk well before the trial, and that meant they would drag Atlas into something either uncomfortable or ugly. He never blamed them for it. It was easy for them to forget that Atlas's energy dwindled in social situations, simply because Atlas always loosened up eventually, when his energy was at its highest.
Besides, he enjoyed Marcel's parties for what they were. The alcohol, the blood, the humans chosen to turn. It was all fun in the moment, but Atlas was always miserable the morning after, just because of the inevitable guilt that followed.
"Atlas," Diego drawled out, shaking his shoulders slightly, even leaning forward to press a loud kiss against his cheek. Atlas felt blood rush to his face. He quickly pushed Diego away and watered more of his flowers. Behind them, Marcel and Thierry tried to hold in their laughter at seeing Atlas look so embarrassed, but Diego had no shame at all. He laughed bright and loud, then draped himself over Atlas again the second Atlas straightened. Atlas huffed out an amused breath and nudged Diego away.
"I'm not singing," was all he said, and suddenly his yard was filled with whoops of delight. Diego and Thierry then proceeded to plan out their performances for karaoke night. Shaking his head, Atlas left the men where they were and followed the stone path back to his porch, where he set his watering can beside his door and slipped inside. Compared to his friends' homes, his was relatively small. Just one story, though the place looked much like his garden in the sense that plants took up much of the space. The walk-in closet toward the back of the house was where Atlas went now.
