Atlas At Last

Chapter 2

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3,223 Miles To Go

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It's 5 AM and quiet outside. Their house doesn't have AC, so the windows are perpetually open, which means Louis can usually count on a steady stream of cars honking and dogs barking to wake him up at the worst possible time, but for once he's gotten up on his own, no barking or honking. All he can hear is the gentle tick tick tick of the neighbor's sprinkler and his mother's sniffles as she busies herself at the stove, pretending she's not trying not to cry.

"Mom, I—" he stops and starts. They're the first words he's spoken all morning and he's already not sure of what else to say.

"Here you go, baby," she finally says, loading up a plate with pancakes and eggs for him. He's not sure when the last time she made him breakfast was— when the last time she'd even been home for breakfast even, usually still on the last leg of her night shift at the hospital.

Her eyes are damp, smile watery when she sets the plate down, but Louis just forces out a "thanks," and tucks in, doing his best to fight off the guilt bubbling up his throat.

They sit in silence as they eat, the tick tick tick of the sprinkler filling up the room, meshing into something else. A clock, maybe. Counting down the minutes before he goes. Or a bomb, waiting for just the right second to explode, sending everything here to shit like he's afraid it will the second he's gone.

Not that Louis'd ever been, like, responsible for anything besides helping out around the house, really. He'd only started working at the shop for something to do, just like any other teenager— to buy a car, have money for beer and weed. Fund a trip to California. Whatever.

But he is the oldest, and there are a lot of little ones running around all the time, so he's always been the de facto babysitter for as long as he can remember, the same story as any other kid from a big family. And even though Lottie is almost fourteen now, older than he was when he started watching everyone, it's still a weird feeling to know that they'll be on their own soon. That he'll be leaving his mom all alone.

Not alone, he tells himself. She's got Dan The Boyfriend now, too. And with that, he tells his conscious to shut up.

He looks up from his eggs to ask his mom to pass the ketchup, but she's already watching him, tears definitely sliding down her cheeks now.

"Mom—"

"Oh, stop," she shushes him, passing the bottle without even being asked."I'm not crying because I want you to stay." He hazily wonders what he'd do if she did. "I know how much this means to you, Boo Bear," she says softly, and he knows without her having to spell it out that she doesn't just mean the concert. That her thoughts have drifted towards a certain late-night cry fest featuring a terrified confession not so many years ago:

Mom...I think I'm gay.

She pats his arm soothingly. Louis loves her so much he could die.

"I just want you to stay safe...and call me if you need anything," she adds, laughing weakly. "Not that I'll be much help from all the way out here, but..."

Louis laughs back quietly and pushes his food around his plate.

"You're sure this kid you're going with is alright?" she asks for the twentieth time since he'd explained the situation last night.

He shrugs. "If he's not, it'll be Julian's fault," he jokes, mouth full, and tries his best to not think about Harry, to keep all thoughts of the soft lips and first kisses that had kept him up all night as far away from his mom as possible.