Atlas hated being sick.

The uncomfortable feeling of cold sweat on his feverish skin, the lack of awareness and every other thing that came with being sick, he hated.

Because being sick meant being poked and prodded; being sick opened the conversation of allowing his siblings to "help" him with his work. And for someone like him, a biologically engineered weapon of war, that wasn't an option.

His siblings, though they could match his surface level of danger, were not the same. They saw snow and thought of building a snowman and having hot chocolate; he saw snow and thought of soldiers' bodies staining the pure white with red blood.

So, in short, Atlas had no time to be sick. Even now with him being grown and trying to bring peace to the rough lives his siblings led outside the lab.

He thought you would be no different than his siblings. He was sorely mistaken.

You found him struggling to stand straight. It only took one look for you to figure out he was sicker than a dog in the slums.

"Go back to bed."

"I have work..." He couldn't finish the sentence without coughing.

"I'll call them." You hold out your hand for his phone. With a little bit of grumbling, Atlas gave you his phone. He didn't bother to tell you the passcode and you didn't need to ask as you unlocked it with ease.

"I'll be back. Get some comfortable clothes on and lay back down." It phrased as an order and normally Atlas could swallow the instinct to follow, but now? now Atlas nodded and changed back into an old t-shirt and sweats after the door closed behind you.

He settles back into his bed, grimacing at the sheets that were filled with sweat. He would have to change them, maybe after a shower.

His planning was interrupted when you strolled back into his room. He raises an eyebrow when he notices what you have in your hands. It wasn't often that you brought him gifts, your no-nonsense exterior seeing no reason for it and he never minded it. Gifts were a debt to be repaid, and he hated being in debt.

But...maybe he would make an exception, just for you, his "roommate". The bowl in your hands was filled with soup, steam curling in the air from how hot the food was. It wasn't the only thing you brought with you. A laptop was tucked in your arm along with the charger. You caught his questioning look and felt heat settle on your cheeks. Comforting someone was not your forte but you knew you hated to be alone when you were sick and knew Atlas would hate it too. Two peas in a pod or something like that.

It doesn't take long for you to settle down in his room. The soup was set down on the table next to his bed to cool down some, your laptop was propped up on a pillow with some random movie playing, and you were curled into Atlas' side.

It was a sort of heaven that Atlas never thought he'd achieve. The warmth and comfort of another that never needed to be calculated was sweeter than candy to him.

Atlas who was more weapon than man. Atlas who could bring down armies without so much as a flinch became a man once more.

He became Atlas, your roommate. Atlas, the one who laughed quietly with you at 3am in your shared kitchen. Atlas, a man trying to unlearn being a weapon.

And for once, Atlas doesn't think of the looming future. He simply shifts closer to you; his presence becomes more permanent. He is only Atlas to you. And that is how it will stay.