Santang Flat

Santang Flat
moonstraw city

Originally home to one Atlas Hwang, he now has a friend and roommate (one Amor Santiago) to leave him on his toes. It's a small apartment, but the two are managing just nicely. It has all of the necessities and two rooms branching off on either side of the living room, giving the moody young adults plenty of space away from one another should they need it. It becomes regularly infested with little pesky creatures, but that is less of a problem now that Amor is living there. The dishes aren't piled as high anymore either.

Amor Santiago

first year healing student
ateleia

It's a Friday, and Amor didn't have classes very late on Fridays or at least not *this* Friday. It means plenty of time to adjust to living at Atlas' place or... his and Atlas' place. It's weird to process that he *has* a place, but it also doesn't necessarily feel like it's *his* if he has to share it. Then again, he would consider a house with his future partner '*his* house', right? Generally though, he's in a weird spot. His whole body aches, but the potions he's stashed away from St. Mungo's is just enough to stop the stress-induced sweat from rolling down his face. Having the full moon tomorrow is the only thing preventing this from being perfect timing, knowing he will have to return to his mother's property tomorrow night and pretend he forgot something then just decided to spend the night. Atlas deserves to know, which he recognizes, but he isn't sure how to spring that upon him now. He's realizing with every box he shreds open, stacking his things into his new room or filling the kitchen cabinets with things that Atlas' mother clearly didn't care to supply him with... With each box, he wonders if that is just another action done without honesty, but he rationalizes these thoughts out of his head for now. He hasn't missed a potion for a few nights now, becoming more consistent. For that, he is happy and he appreciates the fact that he can enjoy this. He doesn't need to be depressed and try ruining it. "Hey, bro?" he calls from inside his room. The door is open, and he can see his roommate doing something in the main living area from where he's standing. "What if we played some music?"

Atlas Hwang

front desk at love letters
paintedred

Atlas knows he will have to get used to somebody else living here at some point, and Amor's been here unpacking things the whole day so this really should have settled in by now but it's still startling to him once he hears his voice calling out from the other room. It is strange and almost depressing to him that he has grown so used to being alone that the mere sound of someone else's voice here in his apartment makes him feel a bit on edge. He relaxes though almost instantly. It's just Amor, who is his best friend and not somebody to be anxious about. His voice snaps Atlas out of his thoughts, which is probably good for him. When he thinks too deeply about things, they become depressing, and considering how often he finds himself deep in thought then it is no wonder he is so depressed. Currently, he is thinking about all the new additions to their apartment kitchen. He had been staring at the sink absentmindedly thinking about how it no longer has the pile of dishes that had stacked up over the past couple of days. He had washed them earlier this morning before Amor came over – one small action to make him feel less embarrassed about the shithole he was living in. He feels stupid for feeling so fucking accomplished over it, but he is proud nonetheless. He decides, though, to keep these feelings to himself because articulating them would make him feel more uneasy. There's no need to involve others in things when their involvement will likely just ruin it. He can keep this small achievement for himself. "Yeah, sure. Play whatever. You have a better music taste than I do." he says, getting up from his place on the couch and walking into Amor's room. He sits on the bed, not thinking too much about it. "Maybe you can even let me listen to the infamous playlist." Atlas drawls, rolling his eyes at the very mention of it. "You know, the one you didn't delete."

Amor Santiago

first year healing student
ateleia

Amor can hear Atlas standing because the couch is a little noisy when someone moves around on it, so he notes quietly to himself that he has to search for some charms to fix that. He doesn't know any off of the cuff, but that's what Seeker is for. When his friend (scratch that: *best friend*) comes strolling in and collapses on his bed, he brings his eyes off of the box he was rummaging through and instead lets his gaze linger on the other boy. Even if he's now living with a little edge lord, he's glad he made this decision— even once Atlas tells him to play his playlist that he shares with Arden. His eyes roll. "You're a fucking dick, dude." Still he reaches over to get ahold of his wand and removes his phone from his pocket just to scroll through his Cantisfy. Amor pretends to struggle to find it as if it's not the second playlist on his profile, but eventually it starts playing out of his wand and he sets both things down in order to focus on unpacking. It first starts playing "Any Way You Want It" by Journey, bringing out a small wince. "Once this playlist is done, we should listen to whatever music *you* cry to. I think that'd be tight," he tells him though not very bitterly. He's kidding around because he finds Atlas to be depressed enough as is. At least Amor can handle being brought down a few pegs. He is not sure his friend could handle the same. Amor goes quiet for a moment, humming along to the lyrics as it starts describing the woman in question. He does his best to tune it out. "I don't know if you noticed, but I brought shit so we can burn spaghetti." He wants to know what Atlas has been eating before now, but he thinks he's better off just believing it's been some magical nymph food.

Atlas Hwang

front desk at love letters
paintedred

Amor *is* probably better off believing it's some magical nymph food, though if he ever decides to mention it, Atlas will just probably laugh. Ridiculous. Why would nymphs have special magical food? They're not *fae*. He lies down on the bed for a couple of seconds, staring up at the ceiling of the room, thinking about how amazing magic is and how because of it they were able to add a whole new room to his tiny apartment. He'll get to helping Amor in a minute. He's exhausted, which makes no sense considering it's not like he does that much shit to begin with, but Atlas is always tired that it doesn't bother him anymore. "Dude, that song is *ancient*." he says. *Of course* this is the shit Amor used to listen to with his ex. *Of course* they were in a stupid, 80s music, 'vintage aesthetic' type of relationship. Atlas doesn't voice any of these thoughts; it's not like he'd be any better, given his personal aesthetic. "Oh God, I haven't properly cooked anything in *forever*." He knows how to cook, though! He used to help around at home, but Atlas no longer lives with his family which means no one is nagging him to help around the kitchen anymore. Atlas has found, rather regretfully, that he doesn't get around to doing much unless someone is bothering him about it. Even then, he'll likely grumble the whole time. "But sure," He gets up from the bed and moves to help Amor unpack. "We can try that later."

Amor Santiago

first year healing student
ateleia

Amor rolls his eyes again, not impressed by the comment. It doesn't matter how *old* it is. It's about the feeling behind it and the energy it possesses. If he closes his eyes when he listens, he can sometimes feel creative enough to conjure an image of the pit, but he doesn't want to fantasize about kissing his *ex* or whatever Arden is ever (because it feels wrong). However, he certainly doesn't want to when he's hanging out with his friend. "Is sixty- seventy years ancient in nymph years?" he poses. It's occurred to him that he doesn't know how long nymphs are supposed to live for. Asking Atlas generally doesn't seem like the reliable source there. "I know you're depressed and shit, but you're not allowed to die on me when I have half a life span left," he adds, sounding rather grumbly about it. His life span should realistically be shortened by the curse inflicted upon him, another reminder that he should just tell him already. He glances towards Atlas to ensure he's not watching him before sliding Arden's ring into the drawer of his nightstand. He'll move it to sit on top later as some sort of twisted punishment to himself. It's started to affect him less now that they've interacted more and he's felt her hand in his again, then felt how absent of feeling it was. At least that's how he processed it. Still even if the angst has started to dwindle, his sadness remains and he wants to feel something except for the physical pain that plagues him. The ring will stay. "Who would cook for me? I would fucking *starve*, dude." He's pleased knowing Atlas knows how to cook. He sure doesn't, or at least not very *well*. He always burns it— even water.

Atlas Hwang

front desk at love letters
paintedred

"Nymphs live as long as wizards do." he answers. Seventy years is still a *long* time though, he thinks. God. He can't believe he's going to be alive for that long. Sounds miserable. "Well, except some." he explains, adding the afterthought. He thinks of the ridiculously old nymphs that have seats on the High Sept council, or the two other hiereiai besides the Vu sisters' father. "But those are just the really powerful ones. The elders. I guess there's some weird nature magic that keeps them alive longer. I have no plans on becoming one of those guys, so... Same life span." He scans the array of things that Amor is keeping on his shelves as he continues talking. "Yeah, yeah, don't get your hopes up. It's not like I'm a fucking chef or anything." He is sure that cooking will come back to him naturally. It has to be one of those skills, and also it isn't very difficult to just follow a recipe he thinks. "Before I moved out, my parents would make me help out while my sisters were busy training." he mentions. On top of being *girls* and also having picked elements that his parents were prouder of, they got more focus in that regard. Especially in the earlier days when it was more difficult to find Atlas a teacher, he was home a lot. It occurs to him that in the wizarding world, these gender roles are reversed, which is still so strange to him even after living among wizardkind for two years now. "That's the extent of my 'expertise'."

Amor Santiago

first year healing student
ateleia

Knowing that the two of them are cursed to live this lengthy existence together gives him some comfort, and he prays silently that the two of them don't do anything to destroy their bond. Amor finds that he has a habit of being grouchy and destroying the things most precious to him and a hundred more years gives him plenty of time to do that. Still he doesn't mention it because promising to be best friends forever isn't really his thing. He merely nods, otherwise just watching as Atlas scans the items he has on his shelves. It's mostly things he hasn't found a place for including some of his figure skating medallions and a collection of potions. A few knick knacks fall in between each, but nothing he's worried about him seeing. "Whatever. It'll be fine." Amor obviously wasn't expecting him to be a *chef*. He's just expecting food. He's always hungry, but that also means learning how to feed himself too. He can just get something from one of those Muggle fast food joints. It's cost effective. "When's the last time you talked to your family anyways?" He doesn't feel terrible mentioning it because he's not expecting an emotion-heavy answer or for Atlas to say anything serious about it. If he does, then he will listen, but his expectations are low.

Atlas Hwang

front desk at love letters
paintedred

It is telling already that Atlas has to think about his answer. "My older sister tries to check in every once in a while." he answers, "I think the last time was..." He thinks to himself about when the first letter to Liliana was. He knows the exact date of that, then he'd just have to subtract a day. "Around the 23rd of September." Atlas realizes belatedly that is a bit longer than 'every once in a while', but he's not going to take it back. "My mom wants me to move home and thinks not talking to me will do the trick." He shrugs, scoffing. "Parents are weird." He says this but has to admit that it's working a bit because he *does* miss her and knows the only way of checking in is to visit the Sept, and it's likely when he returns home that he will be tempted by how extravagant and beautiful living there is. The wizarding world is kind of shitty, but at least no one knows him here. "I have two younger sisters but they're probably busy with training." Realizing he hasn't really explained nymph culture to Amor before, he continues. "When we're eleven we all pick a specialty and then we spend the next couple of years being taught to use our powers. And then there's a bunch of other bullshit too, but it's a lot more boring." He chuckles. "It was an easy decision to leave." It *was* and the regret would only settle in later on, but he doesn't mention that.

Amor Santiago

first year healing student
ateleia

It's a little shameful how little he knows about nymphs considering his best friend is one, but to his credit, it's not as if his friend seems that pleased to participate in the culture anyways. Still when it comes into conversation, he notes that he could do better in terms of learning more about it. "Nothing's more inviting than the silent treatment," he comments, partway underneath his breath as he mirrors his friend's scoff. His mother has gone through bouts of that too, but also Amor was a handful and he supposes he deserved it a little bit. Maybe not; he isn't that sure. It's easier to tell others that they don't than it is to recognize that within your own dynamics. Amor falls silent after that, sort of just watching him as he tries to figure out what to say next. Their conversations generally aren't that serious, but he wonders if this is actually *that* serious as in *very* serious. "Yeah. Shit." It's all that comes out at first, brows raising before he glances over towards one of the last boxes. Most of his shit was done last night because Atlas chose sleeping over watching a movie together. Amor isn't that bummed out about it, but he did notice a particularly squawky friend has parted since his disappearance into his own room late last night. "I mentioned it because I noticed what's-its-name is missing. I really thought you would've been more of a cat person." Amor isn't really supposed to have pets even if he's not sitting in his apartment tomorrow evening. Realistically, there isn't much of a point in this guideline he sets for himself, but it creates some comfort for him at least. Since he knows he won't go hunting down The Hoo (get it?) though, he hasn't found a point in mentioning this to him.

Atlas Hwang

front desk at love letters
paintedred

"Ah. Horton?" It takes everything in Atlas to say the name with a straight face. Anyone who knows him would be well aware such a name is not within his personal aesthetic, which is so strong and so ridiculously pretentious. "He's not mine." Atlas begins to wonder if the owl in question actually belongs to anyone in particular or if it's just a hazard-friendly post office owl that was looking for an adventure. Either way, it spends way too much time in the flat and he begins to speculate if it ever returns to the post office at all. Does it just stay in Hogwarts too while waiting for Liliana to reply? He will have to ask her in his next letter, which he's resolved will be more hastily written so that she does not have to wait as long. "He just sort of... drops by every once in a while then stays until I write back." he says. The thought of Liliana makes his mind wander, distractedly beginning to wonder how well her Halloween party went.

Amor Santiago

first year healing student
ateleia

"Horton?" Amor laughs. "What pretentious shit did that guy write?" Obviously he assumes that that's a name that Atlas gave him even if it isn't *his* because it's not as if the creature had any tags on him. His following thought is that it must be some obnoxious author whose writing he appreciates. Every time this particular interest of his arises in conversation, he remembers Arden's friend Divya and how the two really must have met at some point in Hogwarts. Each time he wonders how that would have gone and if they're interested in the same... literature or whatever. He laughs again, reminded of how he used to be so confused by her and Arden being so close. Now he has his own nerdy best friend. It's as if God wanted him to stop all of his judgement. Still he's one judgmental asshole and God's not going to stop him from shit. "Wait, who are you writing then? *I* don't remember getting any fucking letters?" He's joking, grinning even as he shifts to put his hand along his waist in protest. His pose isn't maintained for very long because the soreness in his muscles is screaming out at him that they don't appreciate it, so he shifts again and then slowly shuffles towards the bed before collapsing down on it. He hides the discomfort from his face, instead disguising it as disgust that *he* wasn't receiving letters. Honestly, no offense to Atlas, but he isn't sure who else he could possibly be writing to.

Atlas Hwang

front desk at love letters
paintedred

Atlas sits on the bed again once Amor lies down. He is an affectionate person and it is comforting having somebody else in such close proximity again, but he is not going to lie down next to him immediately because he knows that some people could consider that an invasion of their personal space. "Her name is Liliana." he begins, not knowing where else to start. "And *she* named the owl. I just agreed." Atlas agrees it's a witty name, but he wants to be clear that there is no such pretentious author. There doesn't seem to be any way of going about the rest of this conversation without admitting that he has never met Liliana before, but he can delay Amor from finding out at least for a couple more minutes while he steels himself for all the shit he's going to get for this. From an outsider's perspective, this is either the hands of fate at work or complete and utter ridiculousness. He is not sure what Amor would lean towards, given what a fucking romantic he is, but nonetheless he is neither prepared for gushing or for bullying. "You don't know her." Neither does Atlas, really, but oh well.

Amor Santiago

first year healing student
ateleia

His hands reach behind his head, tilting it upwards slightly to stare at Atlas with a mixture of confusion and amusement. "And who the Hell is *Liliana*?" Amor laughs right after that. If he had more energy, he would've shot upward, but he'll let his friend be higher than him for now. He really wouldn't mind if he laid down beside him; it would probably be nice. "No, you can't just tell me that I don't know her, dude. Who is she?" He pushes. He doesn't feel guilty for doing it. If Atlas didn't want him to, then he shouldn't have told him her name. Liliana is a pretty name, he notes to himself. It isn't thought in the same way some might think it, but instead he notices that *Lily* is typically such a pretty woman's name. "Have you been sending someone else love letters, bro? I'm crushed," he teases, grinning as he waits for his reaction. He's never really heard of Atlas having other friends before, so he's excited even if it means *sharing*. It's not as if there's a lot of him to go around though. Kidding. Atlas is perfectly sized.

Atlas Hwang

front desk at love letters
paintedred

Atlas glares, and perhaps it's the dark nymph aura about him but it really does look threatening. It's fine, though, because he snorts and collapses on the bed next to Amor to stare at the ceiling, one of his favorite past-times. Hopefully Amor does not mind. "They're not love letters." he says. His words would be a lot more carefully chosen if it were a love letter – whether or not this is a good thing is yet to be discovered. Nonetheless, he doubts he will ever be in that position. Atlas likes to believe he's given up on love; he will not sit on this any longer because then he'll realize that's untrue. He is quiet for a full minute, trying to put together the most concise version of events. "I tried writing a letter to nobody, sort of like a journal." he begins, "I passed by the post office, was carrying a bunch of shit for work, letter must have slipped out or something – I don't fucking know." He exhales sharply as if acknowledging the absurdity of the situation. "Some owl picked it up and delivered it to her by chance... And now we write each other." Atlas turns his head to gauge Amor's reaction, then decides he doesn't care about his reaction and abruptly turns to face the ceiling again. "It's not a big deal." It is, definitely, since Atlas has not had someone to write to in so long and he enjoys being able to immensely. Receiving the letters is equally as pleasing and it gives him something to look forward to. It is always nice having something to look forward to, Atlas thinks, especially given that for a long period time he really felt there was nothing to look forward to at all.

Amor Santiago

first year healing student
ateleia

His glare *is* intimidating. It's as if a sudden gloom washes over the room before rapidly disappearing, and Amor shudders before turning towards the ceiling. Listening to Atlas, he can't decide if he finds it romantic or ridiculous. Usually, his response would be so instantaneously positive, but because of all the shit his friend has been giving him about Arden... He's in more of a mood to mess with him. A smile spreads across his face, tilting his head towards him just as he turns his away. "I don't believe that. You're writing a fucking *stranger* and you care for her... Horton or whatever." Amor doesn't really understand the point of letters as a consistent form of communication. Attaching a letter to some flowers or chocolate on Valentine's Day is reasonable, but he would never survive in a world where he has to rely on sending his friends letters. Therefore, he concludes that this *has* to be important to him. "That shit sounds important to me," he adds. All of the comments about loving being gross or *shit* come rushing into his head, but he holds his tongue. Technically, he doesn't know if Atlas is whipped, but he sounds whipped and he wants to bully him for it except he knows he needs to hold himself together just a little longer. He laughs at this realization, booming through the room. "Have you two met yet? Is she attractive?" Amor's most prevalent weakness is perhaps his chronic horniness and it feels nearly impossible for him to not at least *ask* if she's attractive. There's no harm in it. He wants to know though.

Atlas Hwang

front desk at love letters
paintedred

Liliana *sounds* pretty, but he knows saying that is ridiculous so he holds his tongue. Imagine trying to justify that someone is attractive just because of the way they write a letter. That would probably entail letting Amor *read* a letter, which is certainly not an option. He wouldn't want to share that with anyone. "Writing a stranger isn't that exciting," he brushes it off. He is lying, of course, but he doesn't want to give Amor any more ammunition than he already has, which he knows is already quite a lot. "I haven't met her." he says. Atlas isn't sure if he wants to because surely he would just be disappointing. He is a bit of a let-down to most people he knows and he knows he is not all that impressive. She sounds outgoing and bubbly from the tone of her letters alone and surely she would get tired of having to put up with his gloomy personality. That would be so tedious for her – he can already imagine her getting fed up with him as most other people do. On a more shallow note, what if she's *tall* and disappointed that he isn't? Girls care about that shit, right? "I don't think I want to." he adds. What if it goes badly? That would be so terrible. "She said she's a seventh year at Hogwarts anyway, so it's not like she'd be able to leave the castle often." He would not want to take up a day off of one of her weekends with a disappointing first encounter.

Amor Santiago

first year healing student
ateleia

He squints at the ceiling, trying to decide whether or not he smells bullshit. Amor doesn't see a point in not meeting each other, and the way Atlas says it sounds so... indefinite. He wonders why, but he isn't much for just silently wondering all of the time. "Why not? Why even write her then?" he questions, turning his head to face him and narrowing his eyes as he searched through his face. If Atlas tilts his head, then he can get a better read on him. His brows furrow more as he hides any other emotions from his expression. If anything, he appears angry and frustrated. It's the easiest emotion for him to display. "If she's not important and she's not going to become important, then just stop it. That's your logic." He's incredibly skeptical of what Atlas has been saying, and his voice is flat enough to prove that he doesn't buy it. "Atlas, do you think I'll give a shit if I caught you caring?" He laughs. "I'll call you a simp or some lame shit? Come on."

Atlas Hwang

front desk at love letters
paintedred

"I can't be simping for her if I'm not into her, dude." he says, rolling his eyes. He is quiet for a couple seconds after that, before exhaling and conceding. "Maybe if she brings it up, then we can meet. I don't know." he says. That seems reasonable to him. He doubts that Liliana should ever want to meet him and ruin this image she probably has of him in her head. "I'll update you." he adds. Atlas is frowning, deep in thought over this predicament, though he very quickly reasons with himself that there is no need to get stressed over a good thing. And Liliana's letters *are* a good thing. It is so common for him to ruin things whenever they feel like they may be too good to be true, or at least he thinks it is common for him – he is too hard on himself and is less self-destructive than he thinks. Nonetheless, he decides to push the thoughts out of his mind and not dwell on them any longer. He wouldn't want to associate her or her letters with anxiety or stress. That wouldn't be fair to her, when she's been so kind to him. He turns towards Amor, lying down on his side. Up close, he notices that Amor seems a little out of it. "You seem tired." he says, "I can take over the rest of unpacking." It isn't an offer but a declaration. He slept early last night anyway and Amor should probably rest.

Amor Santiago

first year healing student
ateleia

Amor is content with leaving it there. He doesn't want Atlas to feel worse about himself because that's the last thing he needs. Realistically, he has to have a bundle of insecurities he won't discuss with him. Amor has plenty too. It's not a conscious desire (far from it), but he would want a night where they're honest with each other. It's obvious there's more tying them together than just a hatred of existence. Even then, Amor isn't sure he can say he hates existing. Maybe tonight he can, feeling as bad as he does. He's surprised by the power of those new potions... "What?" His voice is condescending at first, coming out of his mouth clumsily and without warning. He doesn't even recognize that it's happening before it does, furrowing his brows as he faces him. His expression rapidly relaxes soon after. "I'm not. It's fine," he insists, shrugging as best he can given his current position. He would move over onto his side if the pain wouldn't kill him. Slowly, he grins, lifting his arm slightly. "If you want, you can stay. Let's just enjoy the music." His eyes shift down before pulling his hands out from behind is head, turning to face the ceiling again. Admittedly, their close proximity is taunting him. "I think this is the closest I've been to someone in a long time. Isn't that pathetic?" He scoffs. It's nice though; that's what he's saying.

Atlas Hwang

front desk at love letters
paintedred

Atlas snorts in response to that. It's not pathetic, but he sees how that could be an angle. This is the closest Atlas has been to someone in a long time, too, and he suffered through an even longer time at that, he's willing to bet. "No, not at all." he answers seriously. He doesn't feel like fucking around right now, staring at the ceiling and listening to the soft music coming from the wand sitting atop the table a few feet away. He focuses on the sound of whatever 80s song is playing from the stupid playlist that Amor won't just delete already and the sound of his best friend breathing next to him. It is still difficult for him to process that the apartment will no longer be quiet; that there will always be music playing or he will always be waking up to the sound of Amor getting ready for school or he will always be coming home to another person when he's finished with work. Atlas did not think he was cut out for anything other than solitude, and he wants to say he is struggling to picture himself existing in the same space as somebody else but right now it is very easy to. For someone who is so well read and wants so badly to be a writer, he has difficulty putting vulnerable emotions into words and that is why he stays quiet for what must be a full minute before finally swallowing and deciding to just get it over with. "I'm really fucking glad you moved in, dude." he says, which is really the bar minimum of what he wants to say, but he supposes that should suffice. "Love you." Atlas is still staring at the ceiling, not wanting to look at him.

Amor Santiago

first year healing student
ateleia

It isn't considered silence or else he would've shattered it by the time Atlas does. Music is a good filler for what would otherwise lead to more pointless and melancholic thoughts. Not even the potions are good at drowning out the worst of them. It's a lot easier when he has something to listen to. Similarly, he hears every single one of his friend's heartbeats and he tries to catch if it starts to sync to the music. It's one of the fascinating and also rather terrifying perks to lycanthropy. His eyes close, not opening even after he begins his confession. He's more focused on his own breathing now until Atlas tells him he loves him and his own heart skips a beat. His eyes open again, but he too just stares at the ceiling. "I love you too." Adding the acknowledge that it's coming from *him* doesn't seem so terrible to Amor, but he was with Arden long enough to understand that not everyone is that gushy about words. What Atlas said was enough to bring him a moment of serenity, laying down beside someone he loves so much and someone who for once will just tell him that they love him too. It's something he needed to hear. It's been too long. Still basking in his surprise, he goes quiet for another minute. He doesn't notice how much time passes until the song changes. "And you're really important to me. Nothing's allowed to happen to you, dude." There's power in suffering through the depression together, then getting out on the other side together. Amor has a hard time staying positive for himself, but he cares a lot about what happens to Atlas and will have to die before he ever sees him collapse entirely in on himself. When being optimistic on his behalf, he recognizes that he wants that world where they are both content and he's hellbent on getting there. Nothing is allowed to happen to Atlas because they have to be at that spot together someday even if the rest of their shit doesn't go to plan. It's stupid, so he doesn't say anything. He too has a limit on gushiness, even having to flex the muscles in his face to avoid tears. He's not meant to feel terrible today.

Atlas Hwang

front desk at love letters
paintedred

Atlas considers Amor's words. In all honesty, he has been pretty deadset on not having anything happen to him for a while now for a variety of reasons he feels might be a bit shallow and not at all that deep. Nothing is allowed to happen to him because he's not allowed to die stuck in this stupid job, nothing is allowed happen to him so he can make sure Amor doesn't pull any stupid shit with Arden anymore, nothing is allowed to happen to him because then Liliana will have no way of knowing... And now nothing is allowed happen to him because his best friend asked. These various bits of rationale really do seem small and trivial the more time he has to dwell on it, and it is for that exact reason that he ceases that train of thought. What matters is that it's working, right? Imagine if he had given up two years ago. Then he wouldn't be here, out of the Sept and living with his best friend. That's got to count for something, right? "Yeah, yeah, don't worry about it." he says. Nothing is allowed to happen to Amor either but he doesn't voice that concern since now they live with each other and can look out for one another more carefully. He feels stupid continuing the conversation and letting it go down this gushy path, so instead he goes quiet, listening to the music again. He is completely content in this moment and could honestly fall asleep right here – it would be very easy, he wouldn't even need to stand to turn off the lights, but there is something telling him that he would much rather be awake to experience this moment.