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 Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2025 8:49 am
The rain wasn’t heavy. Just enough to cling to his hair and dampen his shirt by the time he and Elliot crossed the backyard. His arm ached under the ice pack, bruised in places he tried not to look at, but he held it close anyway, because Elliot had insisted. It made him feel cared for. Loved. Even if the weight of everything else still pressed heavy against his chest.
He managed a tired smile for Oliver and Asher, who likely heard him crying and were naturally concerned. He gave them hugs and promises that he was okay, and that he loved them, and that he would like to borrow Elliot for a little bit.
At the back door to his house, he hesitated. It was only for a second, but a glance over at Elliot to reassure him of his presence was enough to give him the courage to slide the door open. His home smelled familiar and safe. Michael’s coffee still lingered in the air, the shampoo Devyn used faint but grounding. He wanted to cry already, but he forced his throat to stay tight, and swallowed down the emotions that tried to bubble up. Not yet.
“Daddy? Papa?” he asked quietly, his voice cracking but it was enough to draw attention. He lingered near the opening into the living room, shifting the icepack against his arm like it was a shield. “Um… Can we talk, please? I just--” He faltered, glancing over at Elliot for strength. “I don’t want to wait. I think if I do, I’ll lose the words.”
He moved into the living room, and, having left his shoes at the back door, tucked himself onto the loveseat, curling his legs under himself. There was plenty of room for Elliot to join him, and when he did, he couldn’t help but lean against him. He pressed the icepack a little harder against his arm, hating the way his hand trembled.
“It’s not about the blood draw,” he quickly added, as if afraid they might think he was overreacting, and was ready to apologize for it. “It’s--... it’s about me.” Michael had been ready to tear into the clinic staff earlier, but Atticus had curled in so tightly, so quietly, that Michael forced himself to hold it back. Made himself save it for later. He didn’t want to make things worse for Atticus, although his irritation had steadily increased throughout the tests part of the visit.
He’d already had an icepack waiting in the freezer for when Atticus returned, but when he saw Elliot guiding Atticus in with one pressed against his arm, he felt his lingering temper ease a bit. At least Elliot was looking out for him.
He set aside the book he’d been pretending to read. He took a moment to glance up at Devyn, expecting the look alone to convey all of his thoughts, before watching their son curl up on the cushions with that icepack like it was armor. Guilt pricked at his heart, deep and familiar, and so did the fierce, aching love.
“Of course,” Michael said softly, remaining where he was on the couch, close but not enough to crowd him. Atticus had chosen to sit across from them, so he gave him the distance he needed. “Take your time. We’re listening.”
His gaze briefly fell on Elliot, then back to Atticus. Whatever this was, Michael could already feel the weight of it heavy in the room. He wanted to fix it, to shield him, but he knew better than to speak before Atticus had the chance. So he stayed still and patient, offering his presence that he hoped conveyed that it was safe for Atticus to take his time and to speak when he was ready.
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Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2025 8:55 am
Elliot followed Atticus onto the loveseat like they were joined at the hip. He smiled at Michael and Devyn, but his lips were pressed tight and it didn’t quite reach his eyes. It wasn’t quite a silent promise that everything was fine, but it wasn’t the end of the world, probably.
He didn’t speak, it wasn’t his place nor was Atticus struggling in any way. Elliot just wrapped his arm around Atticus’ weight and leaned against him–a solid, steady presence at his side.
Devyn’s eyes shifted from Atticus to Elliot only briefly before settling on his son.
His mouth was full from the sandwich he’d just made and decided to devour half in a single bite, but he placed the plate on the coffee table and chewed.
By the time he swallowed, he sank onto the couch next to Michael. Nothing about his posture indicated discomfort; instead, he sat with legs spread slightly so he could rest his elbows on his knees. He leaned forward, shoulders relaxed and fingers laced.
He managed to look unassuming when he locked eyes with Atticus, and opposite of his son’s anxiety, he seemed grounded and calm. He offered a half smile, reassuring and patient, and waited like they had all the time in the world.
Atticus could have as much as he needed.
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Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2025 8:57 am
Atticus sat for a long time, listening to the sound of the rain against the windows, and the faint hum of the air conditioner. Everything seemed too loud, too overwhelming. He thought he could hear his own heartbeat in his ears as it pounded away in his chest. His fingers flex around the icepack, adjusting his hold as his hand grew numb, and every so often he glanced quickly up at Devyn and Michael, but then back down again, as though searching for the words hidden in the grain of the hardwood floor.
He swallowed, trying to get his voice to work. His chest felt tight, and even taking a breath made him feel nauseous.
“I just--...” he took another breath, despite the churning in his stomach, a thousand butterflies trapped. He felt himself wilt a bit, his head hanging in shame as tears filled his eyes. “I’m scared.”
The words came out soft and cracked, his voice thick with emotion, but once they were free, more followed like a dam being broken.
“The doctor said-- well, you know what he said. That maybe I haven’t started. That maybe something’s wrong. But I don’t--... I don’t think that’s what scares me the most.”
He shifted, curling tighter in on himself, until most of his face was hidden behind his knees. He was grateful for Elliot’s grounding presence beside him. Grateful for Michael and Devyn’s patience. But he still felt like he was doing something wrong, or being too selfish or unreasonable.
“I’m afraid of changing,” he said, his voice wavering again. “I like who I am right now. I finally… finally feel like I can breathe. And if things start happening that I can’t stop, if I wake up one day and the person in the mirror doesn’t look like me anymore--” His voice cracked, and he swallowed to try and settle himself. “I don’t know what I’d do. I don’t want to lose myself. I don’t want to disappear.”
He fell quiet, pressing his forehead now against his knees to hide.
Michael felt his heart clench. The rawness in Atticus’s voice was more weighted than any confession of pain. He leaned forward, similar to Devyn’s posture, resting his forearms on his knees as he gave his son his full, undivided attention.
“You won’t disappear,” he said first, his voice gentle but firm. A promise that he had every intention to keep. He let the silence linger a moment after that, letting Atticus have a moment to breathe, and so he wouldn’t feel rushed or argued with.
Then, slowly, carefully, Michael asked, “When you say you’re afraid of changing… do you mean your body? The way you look in the mirror? Or is it something else, too?”
He glanced at Devyn for a moment, then turned back to Atticus and Elliot beside him. His voice softened further, knowing how delicate the situation was. “I want to understand exactly what you’re feeling, so we can help you. So we know what kind of change you’re afraid of.”
There was no judgment in his gaze, no impatience. Just the quiet determination to do his best to understand so he and Devyn knew how best to help their son.
Atticus wanted to believe him. He really did. Just like he wanted to believe Elliot when he’d promised just earlier. His throat tightened, but he nodded a little. But belief didn’t stop the fear. It just made it more real, because if Michael was wrong-- if everyone was wrong-- what then?
“I know you mean that, and I want to trust it,” he whispered, the words shaking as they slipped out. He hadn’t lifted his face from his knees, but hugged himself tighter as he kept the icepack in place. “But even if it’s not how I look, what if it’s other stuff. Like-- what if my voice changes and it doesn’t sound like me anymore?” Or what if it sounded like someone he didn’t want to hear? “What if I wake up and hate the way it sounds, and I can’t make it go back?”
The words tumbled faster now, his chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths. “What if I start feeling differently about things? What if I don’t-- laugh at the same stuff, or like the same music or art, or--” He made himself stop, bit his lip. Hard enough that it stung. He felt Elliot beside him, and he wanted to look at him, but he was afraid he’d really start crying if he did.
“What if I don’t… feel the same about people? What if I stop feeling like me?”
He drew in a shaky breath, and pulled his face away from his knees but only so he could turn to rest his forehead against Elliot’s shoulder. “I only just got here. I only just figured out who I am. I don’t want to lose it.”
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Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2025 9:00 am
Elliot ran his hand up and down Atticus’ back in a predictable pattern. He watched Michael and Devyn closely, not because he didn’t trust them, but because he was looking for anything Atticus might find to misread. For any words he might need to translate into something gentler, to ease any of Atticus’ reassurances–or even theirs.
But, there was no confusion. No microexpressions, no tone. Nothing to misread.
Just Atticus’ parents listening, thinking, caring.
Devyn wore a deeper expression, not one that looked like he was unhappy or upset, but he was thinking deeply. It was like someone had given him a riddle and he had to let it sit with him while he repeated it in his head a few times.
There were many things Devyn did not understand about Earth. The world, the history, the culture, the people. He loved Atticus even if he did not always understand him.
That didn’t change, it wouldn’t ever.
Devyn was, perhaps, not the best person to talk to about change, because he was a paradox of eternal change, and unending sameness. He’d been the same for–how long? Too long, he’d never really done the math.
In a sense, he understood what Atticus felt. What happened when you looked in the mirror and saw a face you didn’t recognize? Or worse, what happened when you saw a face that scared you, a face that you hated?
Devyn knew what that was like. He’d folded one hand over the other as he listened, tapping the back of his hand absentmindedly.
When he was young, he’d been afraid of changing. He wanted to grow up–as quickly as possible. He wanted to get as big and strong as possible. He wanted to live.
But he was terrified of becoming a monster. He knew what happened to Sailor Alastor.
He was afraid of losing himself. Of disappearing. Of being replaced.
It wasn’t so much his body as it had been his mind.
In his own way, Devyn had sunken his claws into his identity and held onto it fiercely. From a young age, he knew he would change. He just wanted to control how. He didn’t want to be great, he wanted to be good. He poured his energy into growing himself into exactly what he wanted to be, regardless of whatever the world around him tried to make him.
And for a while, he’d been proud of that. He’d liked who he was.
And then Percy died.
And overnight, the person in the mirror looked like a monster wearing his skin, because he was. And somewhere in the next year, or decade, or century, Devyn didn’t know who he was. He felt differently about everything. He didn’t laugh at the same things, didn’t like the same music, didn’t feel the same about people, didn’t feel like him, didn’t feel anything.
He didn’t understand Atticus exactly, but he understood enough.
Their situations were different but he remembered how it felt.
Sometimes change meant watching control slip through your fingers. Sometimes change meant having to grieve for a future you dreamed and lost. Sometimes change meant losing the fragile pieces of yourself you weren’t strong enough to protect.
And, yet.
Devyn drew in a breath, held it, and then exhaled slowly.
“...Change isn’t always bad.”
Because, it wasn’t.
Atticus had already changed so much from when they first met. He’d been Chad, a fragile, starving boy, fighting for a chance in a world that had never been on his side.
“Changing doesn’t mean you disappear. You’ll always be you. You’ll always find new music and new art and new people. You’ll laugh at different things. Your feelings will change. You’ll change. But changing doesn’t mean ‘losing’. It means growing, a lot of the time.”
He didn’t sound argumentative, he wasn’t fighting with Atticus. He wasn’t trying to combat him.
Devyn was just sifting through his thoughts. He didn’t want to scare Atticus, didn’t want to shut him down.
“There are ways to change your appearance. If you don’t like what you see, there are ways to change that.” He was lucky with genetics, but even Devyn took great care with his own maintenance to look exactly how he wanted. Even now, he was wearing makeup.
“There are ways to train your voice.” They had vocal coaches on Alastor, there must be some on Earth. There were probably lots of other things on Earth.
It wasn’t combative, it was contemplative. A plan, not quite in motion, but something to fall back on.
“You can like who you were yesterday, and who you are today, and who you will be tomorrow. They’re all you. But.”
His fingers stopped moving.
“Sometimes things move so quickly that you don’t have time to stop and think. Feels like running downhill at full speed. And the longer you run, the faster it goes.”
The more dangerous it was. The more chance you’d trip and fall and hurt. The more you risked breaking something, violently and recklessly and permanently.
Atticus had been running for a long time already. Not down a hill, but up it. His whole life had been an uphill battle.
And then, when he finally found peace, of course he’d be afraid of losing it.
He turned to Michael, in part for guidance, and in part because he didn’t know things. “...Is there a way to slow things down? Just enough to breathe?”
To think?
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Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2025 9:01 am
Michael listened as Devyn’s words trailed off, his gaze shifting back to Atticus. His son’s small frame looked even smaller curled against Elliot’s shoulder, clutching that icepack like it was the only thing keeping him anchored.
“There are ways,” Michael said after a moment, his voice low and steady, like he was carefully placing one foot in front of the other on a precarious bridge. “To slow things down. To press pause, essentially. If that’s what you need.”
He leaned forward just a little, not so much to shorten the distance between himself and Atticus, but to make sure Atticus heard the sincerity in his tone.
“It’s not the same as stopping time, but there are treatments that can delay puberty. Sometimes they’re used when a doctor wants to give a kid more time before things start. Sometimes it’s for kids who need space to figure out who they are without their body racing ahead of them. It’s not something that will be forever… just a way of saying ‘I need to breathe. I need time.’”
Michael’s jaw stiffened a little, a flicker of the frustration he felt toward the clinic they’d visited earlier that day crossing his features, but he quickly smoothed it out.
“We don’t have to start anything you’re not ready for. We can talk to your doctor. We can ask about options to pause instead of push forward. And if we don’t like their answers, we’ll find someone who listens better. I promise you that.”
His eyes softened, and he let out a small breath. “I know it’s not exactly the same thing, but I’ve had students who felt like they were at war with their reflection. And I’ve seen what happens when no one takes that seriously. I don’t ever want you to feel like that, Atticus.”
He gave a faint smile, worn but warm. He took a moment to glance over at Devyn, offering him a small smile as well, before turning back to Atticus.
“You’re not going to turn back into who you used to be. You’re not going to disappear. But if you need us to help you hold things still for a while, we will. You don’t have to run down that hill before you’re ready.”
Atticus took a slow breath, still curled on the loveseat, icepack pressed to his arm but his grip was looser now. He lifted his head just enough to meet Michael’s eyes, then glanced over to Devyn, then up at Elliot. The words felt heavy in his throat, but he forced them out.
“...You mean I can-- like, actually pause things? Not have them start if I’m not ready?” he asked, his voice wavering with emotion, but there was a flicker of hope behind the fear. “Even if--... even if other kids start changing around me?”
He hugged the icepack tighter for a moment, then set it down. He uncurled himself a little and let his hands rest in his lap.
“I--I like who I am. I like how I finally feel like me. I don’t want--... I don’t want to wake up and look in the mirror and see someone else. Or… sound different. Or feel different… especially not about things I care about,” he tried to explain, but he was already feeling cautiously better. He leaned closer to Elliot again, just for luck.
“I know change is normal. I know it’s supposed to happen. But-- I don’t--... I’d been forced to be someone I wasn’t for so long. I don’t want to… be like before. Like… like Chad. Or my… other family. I don’t want any of that back. I don’t want to be reminded of what they did to me…”
He swallowed hard, staring down at his hands for a moment before slowly lifting his eyes again. “If you could help me slow things down,” he said softly, looking at all of them. “Even for a little while, so I can figure out who I am first… I’d… I’d feel like I could breathe again, I think. I’d feel like maybe it’s safe to change when I’m ready. Would… would you really help me do that?”
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Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2025 9:03 am
Elliot could have breathed a sigh of relief if he wasn’t so sure that Atticus would have felt the way it passed heavily through his whole body. Elliot had always had faith in Atticus’ parents and he was worried such a display might imply there had ever been any doubt. He hadn’t, of course. It was just good to hear.
He had one arm wrapped around Atticus still, protectively. Reassuringly. Loose enough that he wasn’t trapped, but tight enough to hold him together if he needed.
He wasn’t there because he felt obligated to be, but because he wanted to be.
Devyn listened intently to Michael, glad for a solution even if he still had much to learn about it. Devyn might have had the drive to help, or to reassure when there were limitations to what could be done, but he was glad to have a solution available to them.
Michael explained patiently, in a way that made it sound like he knew what he was talking about. Not just saying what Atticus wanted to hear, not just consoling him because he was their son. Presenting what he knew, giving options, making promises to do whatever work they needed.
He glanced from his husband back to Atticus. Now, he laced his fingers together and let his shoulders relax a bit more. Atticus picked up on tension so easily, he didn’t want to give him the wrong impression.
Devyn would have moved the world for Atticus, so when he asked ‘would you really help me do that?’–well, of course the answer was yes. He’d have done anything. This was not his area of expertise, but what he didn’t know, he could learn. Michael was better equipped with answers, so he listened carefully.
He nodded faintly, just so Atticus wouldn’t have to wonder what his stance on things were.
Whatever made Atticus happy, whatever made him feel safe, whatever best paved the best path forward for him–of course.
Elliot, supportive as always, squeezed him once more. He didn’t want to speak over him, didn’t want to interrupt him. He just wanted Atticus to know that Elliot was proud of him. Atticus was doing such a good job navigating what had been a tempestuous onslaught of thoughts and feelings only fifteen minutes ago.
If he were being honest, Elliot would have said that Atticus was doing much better than he’d anticipated, and his pride swelled all the more for it.
Not all change was bad.
But Atticus deserved the chance to navigate life on his own terms. He’d been through so much already, and even now he was just asking for a little time.
Atticus could probably figure out who he was on his own, but Elliot still wanted to be there with him for it.
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Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2025 9:03 am
Michael nodded, making sure the gesture was slow and steady so that Atticus could see the certainty behind it.
“Yes,” he said simply, letting the word settle between them before continuing. “We would help you do that. No hesitation. No conditions. If you need time, we’ll give you time. That’s not something you ever have to doubt.” He leaned back just slightly, the corner of his mouth softening into a small smile.
“You’ve already been through enough changes you didn’t get to choose. This doesn’t need to be another one of those times. This is yours. Your body, your choice, your pace.”
He glanced briefly at Devyn and Elliot, then back at Atticus once more. “And you don’t have to figure it out alone. You’ve got three of us standing behind you. Asher and Oliver too, for sure. You’re safe, Atticus. You’re not going to disappear. You’re right here, and we’re not letting go.”
Michael reached out then, offering his hand with his palm up. “Whenever you’re ready, you can come to us. We’ll catch you.”
Atticus looked from Michael to Devyn. He could feel the weight of Elliot beside him, keeping him grounded. His throat tightened all over again, but this time it wasn’t from fear. It was from the weight of being believed. From the relief of being given a choice.
He pushed himself upright, letting a hand linger on Elliot’s leg in silent appreciation for his presence for a moment, before uncurling himself. His knees felt wobbly as he leaned over to carefully set the icepack on the coffee table. He wasn’t sure if he could trust his own voice yet, but did his best to swallow back any-- oh, no, actually he was already starting to cry again. He tried really hard not to! But how could he not?
Carefully, he slid off the loveseat and crossed the short distance between them. He didn’t take Michael’s hand, but instead reached out to sink into him, wrapping his arms tightly around his dad.
“I don’t want to disappear,” he cried, his voice muffled and shaky against Michael’s chest. “But… if I don’t have to do this alone, then… I think I can breathe.”
He didn’t move for a long moment, but instead just held on, soaking up the warmth of Michael’s heartbeat against his ear. When he finally shifted, it was so he could reach out an arm towards Devyn too, tugging him into the hug without hesitation.
Because this wasn’t a choice he had to make alone.
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Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2025 9:05 am
Effortlessly, Devyn wrapped his arm around Atticus and leaned into the hug. Michael seemed so certain, and in that he took great comfort.
“You won't disappear,” Devyn promised. “Breathe as deeply as you need, you know you don’t have to face anything alone.”
Because, Atticus did know it. Sometimes he just needed to hear it.
Devyn wanted him to hear it often enough that it was second nature to simply trust that Atticus was entitled to their help, to know that they not only freely gave it, but eagerly gave it. Devyn wanted Atticus to know that he needed only to ask for help to receive it.
Elliot remained in the love seat, not because he didn’t want to support Atticus, but because he’d had him by his side for a while already. He wouldn’t crowd this moment with his parents. Atticus would return to his arms soon enough. Elliot wasn’t jealous.
Just glad to have such good people in his life. He was full of love, and hope.
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Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2025 9:06 am
Michael kept his arms tight around Atticus’s smaller frame, resting his chin lightly on Atticus’s hair. Not crushing, but steady like a wall that wouldn’t move, even if the whole world tried to knock it down. His eyes softened when Devyn joined the hug, his arm naturally settling around both of them.
“You hear that? You won’t disappear,” he said again, echoing Devyn, and lowering his voice so it wouldn’t be too loud in Atticus’s ears, but there was no mistaking the promise there. They would reassure Atticus as many times as he needed.
“You’ve got us. You won’t vanish. And if anyone’s a fool enough to think you could, they’ll have me and Devyn to deal with. That’s not a fight anyone’s going to win,” he promised as he brushed his palm down Atticus’s back, slow and steady. He then glanced over where Elliot was still on the loveseat, making sure he caught his look.
“And I’m pretty sure Elliot is just as stubborn as we are. I don’t think he’ll let you slip away, not even if you tried,” Michael said as a faint smile tugged at his lips. “Right, Elliot?”
Atticus wanted to laugh at the gentle joking, but his chest felt too heavy, his throat too tight. He leaned harder into Michael’s shirt, taking peace in his and Devyn’s presence, before he shifted just enough to peek out towards the loveseat.
Elliot was right there, like he always was. Close enough that Atticus could see the warmth in his eyes, but far enough that it suddenly felt like the entirety of space stretched between them. He lifted one hand, half reaching before he stopped himself. His fingers curled uncertainly against his own chest.
“I just…” he tried, but his voice came out frail, almost breaking, but he pushed through it. “I don’t want you to get tired of me. Not when you’re--... you’re growing and changing and getting taller and--” Atticus swallowed, blinking away the tears that filled his eyes. “And I’m just… me. What if that’s not enough?”
He quickly shook his head, as though trying to apologize for saying it out loud, but the thought had been circling for a while now. Ever since he noticed Elliot getting taller and he just… didn’t. Even if he didn’t want to get taller, the fear was still there.
“You said before you’d love me no matter what. And I believe you! I do,” he promised, his lips trembling as he sucked in a breath. “But what if I don’t keep up? What if one day you look at me and I don’t feel… grown enough for you?”
Atticus didn’t look away this time. His eyes stayed on Elliot, wide and wet, bracing for the answer.
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Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2025 9:09 am
Elliot blinked, and suddenly he felt like he was standing on stage in his underwear. “Uh,” he said, not because he didn’t have a good answer, but because he needed a second to organize his thoughts. Devyn and Michael both were looking at him, and that was fine!
He’d just been reassuring Atticus that they loved him and would support him.
Elliot really shouldn’t worry about saying the wrong thing but it was still a bit weird to have to put it to words in front of a group.
“Well,” he tried again, “I really can’t imagine getting tired of you. I mean, I don’t think any of this is a race? So it’s not really about ‘keeping up’. That wouldn’t be fair to you. Everybody’s different. We’re allowed to go at our own pace. I’m a little faster than you, but,” Elliot shrugged. “That just means I’ll wait for you at the finish line.”
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Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2025 9:15 am
Atticus let out a shaky sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob. “That’s not fair,” he whispered, scrubbing at his eyes with his hand. “You always say sweet things like that and then I don’t know what to do with myself.”
He glanced between Michael and Devyn, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but unwilling to pull away from the safety of their arms.
“You keep saying I won’t disappear, and then Elliot says he’ll wait for me. I don’t--... I don’t know how I got so lucky,” he choked on the words, his voice cracking with emotion, but it was warm, even if also a little shy.
“I don’t want to let you down. Any of you. You’ve given me so much, and I just--” he had to pause as a shuddering breath escaped. He glanced up shyly at Devyn, who meant so much to him, and had helped him navigate through countless other troubles. “I just want to be someone you’re proud of. I want to be enough for you, too. For all of you,” he whispered, earnest and almost pleading, before glancing back over to Elliot.
“And maybe… if you’re waiting at the finish line, maybe I don’t have to be afraid of it. Maybe it’s not just an ending, but… something we get to cross together.”
Michael’s chest tightened a little, but he only smoothed his hand once more down Atticus’s back, steady and grounding. “You already are, Atticus. More than you’ll ever realize,” he said softly, his tone calm but firm, not wanting to leave any room for argument. Not because he was trying to shut Atticus down, but because there wasn’t anything to argue against.
“You don’t have to grow, or change, or ‘keep up’ to be enough. You just have to be you. That’s all we’ve ever wanted,” he promised, his voice gentle as he shifted enough back so Atticus could see his face. “That’s all Elliot wants, too. Isn’t it?” he prompted, the question open because he suspected Atticus might need to hear it to help him settle more.
“And Devyn,” Michael added after a moment, glancing over at his husband. “I know you’d say the same.” He gave Devyn a gentle, knowing smile before looking back at Atticus. “You’ve been through things most people couldn’t imagine, and you’ve come out of it still caring, still loving, still wanting to help in any way you can. That’s not something any of us take for granted.”
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Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2025 9:21 am
Elliot sported a grin, crooked and playful. If ever there was a reason for Atticus to not know what to do with himself, let it be because he was surrounded by too much love and needed time to wade through it all.
“You won’t let us down,” Devyn promised gently. “I’m proud of you. Now, and always.” Atticus didn’t need to work to earn his love, or his approval. “We’ll support you. So don’t be hard on yourself. There’s no checklist to keep in mind. Just be you, and just be happy. And if you’re not, talk to us so we can help. That’s all I ask.”
Again, Elliot smiled. He didn’t want Atticus to have to keep looking back and forth between himself and his parents, so instead of waiting for Atticus to have to turn to look, Elliot pushed himself up and stood behind Atticus, placing a gentle hand on his back.
“I don’t take anything you give for granted,” Elliot echoed. “I love whoever you are and whatever you want to share with us. So just be you. You don’t have to worry about what we think, we’re always going to be on your side. Especially about things like this, where it’s about what you need to be happy. We just need to know how we can help. And you already did a good job of telling us. So it’s all okay, Atticus. Promise.”
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Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2025 9:22 am
Atticus’s chest ached, like it was overfull with feelings. When Elliot placed a hand on his back, Atticus quickly spun around, reaching out to first clutch onto Elliot’s shirt, like he might disappear if he didn’t act fast, and then sunk against him, arms wrapped around him as he pressed his face against his shoulder.
“Stay,” he whispered, almost desperate. It wasn’t that he doubted Elliot would! It was just that sometimes the fear in his head told him people could vanish if he looked away for too long.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he mumbled, voice thick and a bit shaky, the words muffled. He wasn’t trying to be dramatic! It was just that truths seemed to spill out easier when it was between sobs.
“Or you,” he added quickly, twisting his head just enough to look up at Devyn and Michael. His eyes were red and wet, but filled with overwhelming love for them. “I just--... thank you. For all of it. For not letting me disappear. For letting me stay me.” His voice cracked, and he scrubbed his face with his hand. He was overwhelmed, but so incredibly grateful that tears kept slipping down anyway.
Michael’s expression softened a bit. He didn’t look at Devyn, but he reached out for his hand, giving it a little appreciative squeeze.
“It’s alright, Atticus,” he said gently, knowing Atticus was often embarrassed about how emotional he could get sometimes. Michael had memories, too, of being so overwhelmed with emotion that he didn’t know what to do. Devyn had never judged Percy for his emotions, so he knew he would never judge Atticus. “You don’t have to hold it in here. You’re safe, and you’ve got people to lean on.”
He gave Elliot a faint, approving smile. One that spoke of years of history between them. Of a boy he’d seen grow and who now stood, an anchor for his son. “Elliot can take it, and so can we. That’s why you’ve got us. You don’t have to do anything but let yourself be loved.”
Michael let Elliot take the weight of Atticus’s embrace, knowing when to step back, and when to indulge the need to just cling to the person who grounded him most. He was glad Elliot was there.
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Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2025 9:26 am
Of course Elliot was going to stay. Atticus didn’t have to ask, but now that he was here he most certainly wasn’t going to go anywhere.
He agreed with Michael, nodding as the man spoke. Atticus didn’t have to hold it in, didn’t have to hide anything. He probably already knew that, but sometimes being so vulnerable, so raw, even with people you loved could be too exhausting. He knew Attius was already overwhelmed, so his hand was gentle on his back and he said softly, “But if you want to go hang out in your room for a while and calm down, we could do that.”
Elliot didn’t want to take Atticus from his parents, he just knew this conversation–or, maybe the subjects at least, weren’t easy for Atticus. He wanted to make sure that there was plenty of space to process things in his own time.
“Or we could all stay out here. What do you want to do, Atticus?” he asked gently. There wasn’t a wrong answer. He just wanted to make sure Atticus knew there was power in his choices, and whichever ones he make, he’d have their support.
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Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2025 9:28 am
Atticus sniffled, trying to catch his breath against Elliot’s shoulder, and then pulled back just enough to look at him. His cheeks were blotchy and his lashes wet, but his eyes met Elliot’s like they were the only things anchoring him in that moment.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, voice hoarse, trembling slightly as he tried to calm down. “Part of me wants to hide under the blankets forever, but…” He glanced over to Devyn and Michael, and then back to Elliot. “...the other part of me doesn’t want to miss a second of being right here with you. All of you.”
He hesitated, palms smoothing against the fabric of Elliot’s shirt to keep himself grounded. “If I go hide, I might start thinking too much again. But if we stay out here, maybe it’ll be easier to remember I’m not alone,” he said, his voice cracking on the last word, but it wasn’t from fear… instead it was just heartfelt gratitude.
He pressed his forehead against Elliot’s chest for a moment, feeling the way his heart beat steady.
“Maybe we could stay. Just… for a little while longer,” he said softly, almost a plea. Atticus didn’t want to let go.
Michael’s hand lingered in Devyn’s, warm and certain, before he reached out to brush his knuckles lightly across Atticus’s damp cheek.
“Then we’ll stay,” he said simply, as if there was never a question. There was a quiet indulgence in his tone, but there was also reassurance that Atticus didn’t need to feel guilty for wanting this much closeness. It hadn’t been that long ago that Atticus had been climbing into bed with him and Devyn to hide from the nightmares that haunted him during the night. And even if he hadn’t physically changed much since then, there was a steady maturity developing. Even with how emotional he was.
“I think we can manage that, don’t you?” he hummed, tipping his head toward Devyn with a small smile. His gaze soon shifted back to Elliot, the approval from before still clear in his eyes, but it was softer now -- a glowing pride that he felt for the young man. He knew Elliot would understand without words just how much trust Atticus was putting in him.
“We can get some snacks and a movie if you want something as a distraction. Or we can just sit together,” he suggested, because he was sure there would be no arguments about snacks from Devyn. Or even the rest of his lunch, which Michael was sure he was eager to finish.
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