The drive back to Encinitas was mostly in silence.

After the celebrations and the champagne spray and the trophy ceremony, the excitement died down as night came over the beach. My dad and my stepmother had gone home, leaving just Atlas and I in my car, driving down the pacific coast highway with the windows down as Third Eye Blind played faintly in the background.

We'd strapped my board to my roof and my championship trophy into the back seat, and Atlas had a backpack that sat at his feet in the passenger seat while the flowers my dad gave me sat on his lap. After the adrenaline had burned off, the silence seemed to work its way into every crack and every crevice between us, and it was the longest 30 minute drive of my life. There were so many thoughts and so many things I could have said that fired off in my head, I ended up saying nothing. Where would I have even started?

Atlas kept his gaze out the open window, his hair still a mess from the salt water gently fluttering in the breeze. He was just as beautiful and perfect as he always was, and I decided letting Atlas take the lead on this was the best course of action. I wasn't going to force anything out of him, and let him come to me the way he'd seemed to be trying to.

It wasn't until we'd made it back to my condo at almost midnight that the reality of it all set in. When we walked in the door, Sam barked at Atlas like he was an intruder, but softened as Atlas crouched down to pet him between the ears. Once a dog man, always a dog man, and it satisfied Sam as he retreated back to my bedroom.

Atlas Vaughn was now standing in my living room on my printed rug, hands in his jean pockets and backpack hanging off his shoulder like he wasn't sure if he should even be there. I couldn't pretend there weren't times over the last few months I wanted that sight to be a reality, but now that it was, I wasn't sure what to do with it.

So I did what any sensible 20-something-year-old did and busted out the wine.

"It's...weird having you in my condo." I kept my back to him as I reached for two wine glasses in the cabinet above the sink.

"Why's that?" he asked, forcing out a faint chuckle.

"I don't know," I shrugged, pouring the wine. "It makes this so real. The realest it's ever going to be."

"Which part?"

I heard him take a step forward and slip his backpack off and onto the floor by the stairs. When I turned around, he'd lowered himself onto the barstool at my kitchen island. I slid a glass of wine towards him.

"All of it, I guess," I admitted.

There was some kind of magnetic forcefield around us, preventing us from getting too close even though I was sure all either of us wanted to do was grab each other and not let go. But not yet. We had shit to reckon with.

"Well, we can start with you winning a world title." Atlas held his glass up to me. "That's pretty real, and it's pretty fucking awesome."

My face warmed as I raised my glass in response, and seeing him smile, even just a little bit, made me smile too. "Well, I don't think I would have done it without you so...thank you."

Atlas smirked. "I didn't do much, in the end that was all you. Besides, I kind of owe you big time."

We both shared a drink, and the silence set in again.

I hoisted myself up onto the kitchen island, still keeping just enough distance between us. "I...Atlas, I...don't even know what to really say, or where to start."

"I think I do." He leaned forward on his elbows. "How about I'm sorry?"

I exhaled a breath loaded with relief. Not that I was so relieved he apologized to me, but that he had begun to accept what had happened, and maybe at some point had apologized to himself.

"Savannah, I really am so sorry," Atlas continued, his voice cracking as he ran a hand down the side of his face. "Not just for what you had to see but...the way I handled it afterwards..." he took a pause and swallowed hard. "I'm a coward."

"You're not a coward," I insisted. "I just...I just want to understand. That's all. You don't need to tell me everything, only whatever you're comfortable with, but-"

"No," he shook his head. "I...I do. I want to. You deserve the truth. All of the truth."

"Okay," I shrugged. "Well, I'm here to listen. I've always been here to listen to you."

"I know." His voice was no more than a whisper as he dropped his gaze down into his wine glass. "And I wish I understood that in the moments that mattered."

I reached over and gently put my hand under his chin, lifting his head up to look at me. His eyes darkened in a storm of regret and ache. "The moment matters now just as much as it did before."

Atlas nodded and took my hand in his, pressing it down to the counter as he laced his fingers in mine. "I guess I should start at the beginning then. I'm sure you could probably figure out from Ronnie that it hadn't been my first...well..."

"Panic attack," I added. "You have to be able to say it."

"I know, I know," he nodded with a sigh. "Well, I had my first panic attack when I was 19. In Austin, right before the race."

I gave his hand a squeeze to let him know I was listening, but I didn't want to interrupt.

"You have to understand that my rookie year, I was...a different person. I had all these expectations going into Formula One, you know, being who I was and the kind of racer my dad was. I wanted to be just like him. I was scrappy and aggressive, I was scoring points, I'd even gotten on the podium a few times, and without realizing it I had become sort of an arrogant brat. So leading up to Austin, I'd developed a bit of a reputation. I had a bad practice and an even worse qualifying, and then before the race I..." Atlas paused as his voice became shaky, and I slid off of the counter to grab him a glass of water.

"Take your time," I said as I put the glass in front of him and sat down on the other barstool beside him.

He kept his gaze forward, running his finger along the rim of the glass until it made a faint whistling sound. "I don't really remember what happened leading up to it. You know, sometimes they just come out of nowhere. And I just...I remember being on the floor of my trailer, sweating and shaking and having an absolute fucking fit. It's hard to explain the sensation, but I honestly thought I was dying. My brain was so convinced of it, and my body started reacting to that, like my skeleton was trying to crawl right out of my skin."

"That must be terrifying."

"Well, obviously I didn't go out to the garage to get ready for the race. The next thing I know, Ronnie's in my trailer, there's all this commotion outside and...nobody seems to know what's going on or how to help me. Eventually I guess we made it to the hospital, and they ran all these tests on me and..."

"You were technically fine," I finished for him, and he nodded in response.

"Physically as healthy as I could have been, other than maybe my blood pressure being a little high. But then a different doctor came in and tried to explain to me what had actually happened and I was...so in denial. I said there's no fucking way, and if there's nothing physically wrong with me then I'm leaving. And I did."

At some point Sam had come downstairs and sat beside us, and I reached down to pet him while Atlas took a breath. Sam then walked over to Atlas and put his head on his lap, which cracked a little smile from Atlas.

"There were some rumors circulating that I'd thrown a tantrum because of my bad qualifying position and that's why I didn't race," he continued. "I was so relieved that no one knew the truth, and I was just so embarrassed and ashamed about what happened...I made the decision to let that story run. I let people think that I was some spoiled, alpha brat who just couldn't handle losing. At the time, I thought anything was better than people knowing the truth."

All of the puzzle pieces fell together seamlessly, and as clear as the truth now was behind Alpha Atlas and that whole persona, the clarity only made the knife cut sharper. My chest clenched as I reached for Atlas's hand again.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that on your own. And I'm sorry that you felt like you couldn't be truthful about what happened. It's...it's fucked up."

Atlas reached for my braided bracelet and absentmindedly ran his finger along it. "When you're 19 and made to feel so invincible, so indestructible...the moment you realize that you're not, it's earth-shattering. I mean literally, it feels like your entire world falls out from underneath you and you just...drop into an abyss. And you'll do anything to make it back to the surface."

"Even become someone you're not."

"Even become someone you're not," he echoed. He dropped his face into his hands, and his shoulders began to shake as sobs wracked his body. I gently rubbed his back.

"I just...I didn't want you to think differently of me," he choked out. "Like I'm this weak, broken thing that can't handle his own life."

"Atlas, none of this makes you weak or broken." I kept my hands on his shoulders. "Yes, this is a part of who you are, and you have to accept that, but you're also so much more than just this. I promise."

Another silence settled between us, but a calm sort of quiet, not a tense quiet. My kitchen window had been open, and the gentle sound of the ocean waves came in, washing over us. I slid off of the barstool and shuffled through my Spotify until I found the song I was looking for.

The piano version of Killer + The Sound by Phoebe Bridgers and Noah Gundersen came trickling from the speaker in the corner of my kitchen, and I reached out my hand to him.

"Dance with me?"

He looked up at me with red-rimmed eyes, a streak of tears glistening on his cheek, then looked at my outstretched hand like he wasn't sure I was actually standing over him. Eventually he took it, and we swayed back and forth slowly in my kitchen.

Nothing ever comes like it did when you were in it

Keeping nothing for yourself like a stone cold killer

Now you're passing your people like a ship in the night

Looking to every stranger for a fight

I felt his breathing slow as I pressed my cheek to his chest, and we held each other as the piano in the song continued.

"I really am sorry," he whispered into the top of my head. "For everything."

"I'm just glad you're here now," I replied softly. I pulled away to look up at him. "Speaking of, how did you know?"

"Well, you have very persuasive friends," Atlas chuckled.

"You talked to Gemma?" I asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Yes, at last week's race," he replied. "She talked at me, really. But got her point across."

I allowed myself a soft smile as I rested my cheek back on his chest. Despite it all, she was still that sneaky minx.

"I like this song," Atlas said softly, sliding his hand down to the small of my back.

"I'll make you a playlist," I replied, my cheek still pressed against his torso. "I owe you a new one."

Atlas held me at arms length and looked me up and down, a smile creeping up on the corners of his mouth. There were so many things I could have said in that moment, but I decided to not ruin the moment, and I'd let the music fill the silence instead, the way it had so many times before, like my own love language. It was the beat of his heart when I reached out and touched him, and the way his name left my mouth when I was so certain it was the one I wanted to say for the rest of my life. Even if you don't speak the same love language, all you had to do was listen for the right sound.

I slept until almost 10 the next morning, and as the events of the last 24 hours really settled in, I realized two things - one, I'd won another world title and two, Atlas Vaughn, now laying in bed beside me, had helped me win it. In this moment, things felt like maybe, for once, it was all going to work out. But there was still one more thing to take care of.

Atlas stirred beside me, but I allowed us a bit more quiet time as he rolled over and wrapped his arms around me.

"At some point we'll have to get up," I told him with a faint smile. "Cause we're going on a little field trip today."

"We can't go on a field trip to the couch?" he groaned as he squeezed me tighter.

"Not this time," I shook my head. "It's important."

"Alright, alright."

Eventually we all got up, and we took Sam for a long, late morning beach walk, holding each other's hands like it was so easy and so normal. We hadn't broached the subject of our relationship - hell, we hadn't even kissed and spooned that night with our clothes on - but holding hands was a start. After we dropped Sam back at the house, we loaded ourselves in my Jeep and made our way up the coast.

"So, are you going to tell me where we're going?" Atlas said as he shuffled through my Spotify.

"Nope," I shook my head at him. "The only thing I'll tell you is that it's one of my favorite places."

"That doesn't narrow it down much," Atlas grumbled with a smirk. "Anywhere with water is your favorite place, and we're surrounded by it."

"An astute observation," I chuckled. "But we're going to an actual place this time."

We pulled up to the Briggs Institute, and I parked behind the building so we could snake through the back research entrance. My code from volunteering there still worked at the back door.

"You're taking me to an aquarium?" Atlas leaned down and whispered in my ear.

"It's a conservatory," I pointedly corrected him, gesturing to the offshoots of rooms and labs down the stark white hallway we walked through. "I volunteered here when I was rehabbing my knee, and they specialize in shark conservation."

Atlas took my arm as I led him through to the shark exhibit, where Gus was already eagerly swimming around, almost like he was expecting us.

The entire room was dimmed, and Atlas and I took a seat at the center of the little carpeted amphitheater type thing that sat in front of the tank. The blues from the water in the tank reflected off of his face, and the soft, gentle sloshing of the water tanks was all that could be heard.

"That's Gus," I pointed to him.

Atlas scrunched his face up. "What's up with his mouth?"

I elbowed Atlas in the side. "Don't be a jerk. Gus was in a fishing accident."

"Oh," Atlas nodded.

"Gus was rehabbing the same time I was," I explained to Atlas, resting my head on his shoulder. "But Gus is alright now. Gus even has a baby."

I pointed to the smaller shark swimming just underneath Gus.

"Gus taught me something important when I was here, and sometimes I have to come back and remind myself of it. Even if you're damaged, you're still capable of doing the things you want to do if you set your mind to it. And you're capable of love, and being loved."

Atlas heaved out a sigh, and I knew he understood as he took my hand in his. We sat there for a while longer, watching Gus and the baby swim around in the tank and pointing out some of the other fish when they swam by. 

"I'm capable of loving you," he said softly. "And I think I'm capable of being loved by you...if you'll still have me."

I leaned up and kissed him gently in response. I hadn't realized how badly I wanted to just kiss him until I'd been hit with a realization that I might not ever again. But it did, and I wouldn't let the sensation go so easily this time.

"I never stopped loving you," I told him. "I think I was just sad and frustrated that you didn't understand that."

"Well I do now. And...I think I'm ready for other people to understand it too."

slow dancing in the kitchen
the last one
by sav allen on spotify • 10 songs, 40 min 52 sec

can the killer in me tame the fire in you?
i know there's something waiting for us
i am sick of the chase
but i'm stupid in love
and there's nothing i can do

killer + the sound / phoebe bridgers, noah gundersen

& one more time: atlas vaughn supremacy

i'm not crying, you are. (no jk i'm crying a lot)