STALEMATE [MAFIA] [MXM] ✓

ATLAS: 1

Atlas didn't think he'd ever seen a person that pretty in his life.

This was crazy to think about someone he'd just met, and he was fully aware of it. In fact, it had never happened before. He'd always viewed the people around him as background noise, inconveniences at most. He found conversation to be boring and pointless. Most people treated him like a ticking time bomb, anyway. So, it went both ways.

This boy was different.

He was practically glowing, not an ounce of effort put into it. He had a t-shirt on with a print that made no sense to Atlas. He also had on these green cargo shorts that went down to his knees. He had curly, soft looking brown hair, and skin only a shade lighter. Honey brown eyes stared at Atlas in curiosity, seated in front of him on the tiled floor of a classroom.

His freckles looked like stars. His eyes did, too.

"I'm Salem," the boy introduced himself. Atlas just stared at him blankly. That was basically his default state: absolutely nothing. Unless something made him actually feel, which never happened, he had to put effort into expressing emotion.

"Salem?" Atlas clarified, because he didn't think he'd ever met someone with that name before. He'd heard of it, of course, but only in history class.

The boy—Salem—looked awkward. Atlas found it endearing. That had also never happened before. "Uh, yeah."

Atlas had never really filtered himself. If someone had a problem with his honesty, if someone didn't like what he said and what he did, they could fuck off. However, for some reason, this time, he found himself actually... wondering what this boy thought of him. He found himself caring. That was strange, and it kind of pissed him off. He spoke without thinking, which was pretty typical for him.

"What are you, a witch?" Atlas remarked, irritated at the effort he had to put into maintaining normalcy.

Salem scrunched up his face, an expression Atlas found cute.

Cute?

"Maybe," Salem said with attitude. Atlas quirked an eyebrow, finding some amusement in how expressive Salem was. Every little emotion he felt was plain as day on his face. He appeared irritated and unimpressed, and his face was a little red. Atlas wondered if that was how it always was. "What's your name, then?"

"Atlas," Atlas replied easily. He watched the boy pause, then look at him disbelievingly. Atlas could already tell Salem was dramatic, and he had hardly known him for a full minute.

"Really? What are you, a map?" Salem replied, more bite in his tone than the situation probably warranted. Yeah, definitely dramatic.

There was something strange about him, though. Atlas was used to, when associating with people, being met with hesitation and fear. He was accustomed to people being careful, walking on eggshells around him. He couldn't remember the last time someone outside his family gave him any sort of authenticity.

Sure, it's not like Salem knew who Atlas actually was, but Atlas still had quite the reputation. People didn't associate with him, and they sure didn't look at or talk to him like that.

He found it intriguing.

"Atlas is also a god," Atlas replied, but he didn't really think it through. He didn't waste his time learning things that didn't matter, it's why he was held back in his youth. Until his mom started paying off the school, his grades were awful. So, he didn't actually know anything about the god his name originated from.

Salem did.

"Okay, and he lost. I'd rather be named Salem than GPS."

Arguably, that's when the obsession started.