#eoinstarter

While the memories of what had happened began to fade, how Atlas had felt when Eoin hadn't come back from that tower had not. Bits and pieces of the dream that was that other life still lingered, he knew the story now because everyone in Rome did. Eoin was among this group of people that had gone on for like... Fifteen years or something crazy, alone at the end of the world. Meanwhile Atlas had dropped dead in the first week because his archdruid hadn't been able to stop himself. Where did that leave them? Maybe nowhere, but there were some things that the druid needed to see to before he settled on where he was going to stay. Rome, elsewhere, Atlas was still trying to make up his mind; truthfully Octavian had a lot to do with that.

"I know for you-" Atlas didn't really know what to say to someone who'd known the druid fifteen years prior, fifteen years for Eoin but fifteen days for Atlas. What a mind fuck. "for you it was forever ago, but... whatever you did, whatever you had to do. I'm really grateful to you. I don't really remember much but I remember worrying about what was going to happen to you after everything fell apart."

All work all the time, Eoin had been doing a good job and Virgil had no problem telling his brother that - at least when he wasn’t teasing the other. Their family was big, really big, but for Virgil it had always been the most important thing in his life. There was a legacy in the Moretti brothers’ veins and a responsibility that too few out there could appreciate. Heavy was the head but the last thing Virgil was ever going to do was let people see him sweat.  The Amaranthus weren’t popular but at least they’d managed to keep order here for a long time, Neva Amaranthus was no joke, and her death wasn’t good news. Things had gotten out of control here, not that Virgil was placing blame: if he’d learned anything it was that it was the nature of fringed witches to fall. 

It was Sunday, which meant Virgil was cooking and Eoin was going to be eating. “I got a new one for you.” The witch pointed out as he chopped nuts for the salad, “Which bear is the most condescending?” Virgil asked as he caught his brother’s eye, “A pan-duh!” He was big on laughing at his own jokes and this time was no exception, he had a million of these. Didn’t look like Eoin was laughing though, kid had no sense of humour. 

"Drink, have fun. I want you drunk it's like, mandatory Christmas behaviour." Atlas was convinced that with enough liquor he could transform Eoin into a decent dancer, that display at Midsommar had been... Sad, pathetic even. That little two step while the rest of his family had been out there busting a rug needed a redemption. "It's one night," Atlas said as he pressed the very strong drink to Eoin's chest, body flushed against the witch's as he did, because he could, and because the two of them had come here together. "you can let loose for one night."

“So, the Ivy, huh?” Atlas shouldn’t have been surprised, yet there he was. “You don’t know this about me but I’m someone who takes a lot of pride in his internet sleuthing skills, so the fact that I missed that? Super embarrassing.” Imagine Atlas’ surprise when he’d seen Eoin sat with his brother at the senate meeting, someone that Atlas hadn’t realized was a blood relative until Eoin had pointed him out at that Midsommar nightmare. “Working with The Eye too, so what, I guess that makes you the bad guys then, right?” It wasn't like Atlas wasn't still angry, annoyed was a more apt word, but at some point he'd moved past obsessing over guys with girlfriends. There were bigger things going on right now and he wasn't about to get hung up on anyone, especially someone who apparently hunted supernaturals for a living. Even if the Ivy did supposedly specialize in witches.

"Wow, losing looks good on you." It was a compliment, not everyone could pull off failure and humiliation so well. Atlas fanned himself with the buy one get one soft-serve he and the rest of the 'Fuck Alphas' had won; the coupon expired February 18th so he'd have to get a move on and go. "Better be nice to me or I'm going to have to find someone else to take out for ice cream."

Alcohol did a lot of things for him but mostly it made him bold, well, bolder than usual because Atlas already didn’t really hold back. It had been a couple weeks since the whole real estate debacle and while the druid was far from over it, at the very least he was distracted. He’d more or less given up on getting out of content creation, besides training at the pyramid had picked up so Atlas didn’t have time for much else. Despite all this, nothing was going to keep him from blowing off steam with his friends because getting blackout until six in the morning and somehow manifesting at brunch five hours later - primped, exercised, and ready to go again was all part of his charm. 

Rome was a big place, and while Atlas had waited by the phone for Eoin to text him again - nothing had ever come through. There weren’t any DMs, couple requests on his OF but that wasn’t out of the usual. Voice notes and things like that. It really just seemed like the witch was a part of a very aggravating, handsome, and altogether frustrating past. But then Atlas saw him again, there near the bar while the druid and his friends jumped around like animals. Considering how they’d left things off it probably would’ve been better if Atlas had pretended he didn’t see him but... the truth was he was already making his way over to Eoin before he even really registered that his feet were moving. 

“I didn’t think I’d see you again.” Atlas said as he stood close enough to Eoin so the witch could hear him loudly over the thrum of the music. Without much thought his hand ghosted over Eoin’s arm, flirtatious but alcohol made him bold and this was a very, very gay bar. “And I definitely didn’t think this was your scene.”

The memory of being absolutely furious with Eoin was so clear... But Atlas just couldn't remember why. He knew that he wanted to stay away from him, that Atlas planned on giving the man his jacket back and then putting their interactions behind him... But there was the other part of him that remembered holding hands. Talking for hours and managing to make the other laugh, despite how rarely he clearly did.

Right, Eoin had a girlfriend. Atlas seemed to remember that, but the thing about the druid was generally, he really did not care what someone's relationship status was. Grindr was full of blank profiles and anonymous interactions, Bathhouses too, guys in bars liked to take their wedding rings off and maybe Eoin was no different. But the thing was, Atlas was pretty sure that he wasn't. In fact... There was this part of him that wanted to think that despite the ego Eoin was loyal. Maybe even one of the good ones.

"So," because Atlas had never been anything but a straight-shooter, he leaned into this bubbly feeling and addressed the situation for what it was. "you hit on me, we were hitting on each other, there was mutual hitting on. I don't care that you have a girlfriend, and I don't care what she means to you or what you mean to her." Atlas stepped in a little bit, "But I think it matters to you: loyalty, and if you cheat on her then you're always going to be the guy that cheats." Instead he pointed towards the dance floor behind him, "We're here though, and I don't want there to be any weirdness; you look amazing - I obviously look amazing - so, ask me to dance, as friends, and lets just have a good night."

Today is the first day of the rest of my life. That was something his mom used to tell him. There was an expiry date on the sort of advice he’d get to take with him forever, one that Atlas hadn’t seen coming until it had already passed him by. Do something you’re proud of, as long as you’re happy - you’re happy, right? She’d laugh when he told her about his antics, but it wasn’t as if porn had been where the druid had wanted to pin all of his hopes and dreams. The money was nice, but there were other ways, investing was a start. 

The building was from the new world, thirty floors - most of them already rented out but there were rooms for improvements. Built in the seventies, it didn’t look like the lobby had been touched ever since. Atlas stood in the elevator when a voice called out from below asking him to hold it. Because he wasn’t particularly nice, Atlas ignored the protests of someone asking him to hold the elevator door. Mentally, the druid had a lot of prep work to do, this wasn’t some random sleezeball, or drinks with his friends. It was the first move of a very adult decision, he didn’t need some mouth-breather trapping him in their fart box while he was trying to get his head together. 

A hand shot through the door before it could close and Atlas swallowed, putting on a smile as his hand hovered over the panel. Classic American style muddled with the sort of quiet comforts Atlas loved. A clean face, not a pore in sight, and what was that cologne? Oh no, Atlas thought, he’s hot. How and he takes care of himself. The number seventeen illuminated where the building’s tour was set to begin by the seller’s property manager. “Um,” Atlas cleared his throat, “what floor?”