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One sudden horrific moment shifts the entire trajectory of Atlas and Errol's lives, handicapping both young men in ways they could never have expected. A sculptor without his sight, and a piani...
Hella fucking updates today because I'm finally back from my great aunts memorial in NY, and this book was supposed to be completed by the 31st. My bad y'all, east coast travel this weekend was absolute hell with the weather. But hey y'all are getting 3 chapters coming in the next hour and an epilogue hopefully by the end of the day. I'll be doubling back around to edit later so there might be a few errors here and there for now I love you guys so so much! Thank you, as always, for taking a bit of your time to spend on little old me and these stories Y'all mean the absolute world to me, and then some xoxo
Warning: Explicit Content ;)
Atlas
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When I first got home, I was nervous... but the nervousness hadn't fully immobilized me quite yet. Nyra said her quick goodbyes, giving me one brief pep talk that I absolutely did not ask for that resulted in me cutting her off before she went any further about how important lubricant was going to be tonight.
Maybe that's what tipped my nerves over the edge, I thought to myself as I settled in a kitchen high chair by the marble island. Dash rubbed up against my leg suddenly, reminding me I wasn't fully alone tonight.
"I know buddy," I chuckled. "I know... Did Nyra leave the lights on?" That question was directed right at Dash, as I tipped my head down in his direction. I felt his wagging tail hitting the back of my calf in excitement, but Dash of course said nothing. I think she did, I thought to myself.
But as I sat there in that high rise... time started to move at a pace I couldn't gauge. One minute turned to two... then five...
By the time ten minutes past, I decided I needed to change out of these damn clothes. Sitting for hours, however comfortable those chairs were, had still made this suit feel stiff.
I just didn't anticipate that once I got upstairs, I'd be plagued with the dark reality of what I was actually going to change into. For the first time in a while, I was questioning what I wanted to put on. Most of the comfortable clothes I owned had clay on them from the busy work days, and I'd been slightly behind on laundry... for weeks... or maybe a month now. Since I couldn't see the pile, most days I liked to pretend it didn't exist.
There was something I did wash, I thought, slipping off the surely creased trousers and tossing them near the rest of the suit pieces on my bed. It felt good to pull on that freshly pressed oversized shirt over my head, feeling the familiar material as it gave my skin room to finally breathe.
The basketball shorts were also as large as I remembered, but the drawstring helped pull the waist tighter against my smaller frame. Sure, I was going to hand these clothes back to Errol tonight, but he probably wouldn't mind me borrowing them for a few more hours right?
