Atlas

He had mapped her… a great and wonderfully beautiful atlas all her own— one that no amount of stars could improve upon. Atlas didn’t need Lena to make him whole, he wanted her to make him whole again. When two hearts spoke so peaceably to one another as theirs did now, it was hard to ignore the all-encumbering desire to remain in that moment for as long as one imaginably could. Somehow she understood his hurts without words, coddled his insecurities without touch, and welcomed a new and vibrant sense of purpose where none existed. Even when she fled from his promises and rejected his requests, Atlas felt something for Lena that tied him to her -he to she- with nothing more than perseverance and an undying need to appeal to the girl hidden away beneath so many layers of uncertainty.

“You scare me a little.”

The man nodded thoughtfully, working over her words and trying to decipher what it was that frightened her so. Instead of ruminating it until it bled, Atlas merely absorbed the statement and allowed it to bed deep within. He was aware of his intentions and knew that his own steadfast resolve would prevail in time… with any luck. As they wandered, Atlas imagined that the labyrinth was much like Lena in many ways. It was intricate and lovely, a grand masterpiece of emerald and jade, but still a maze. It would take a conqueror to overcome such a massive trial and one must embody perseverance to name himself such. Atlas liked to believe that he was once, if not still, a conqueror… but Lena proved to be his biggest challenge yet.

However, the man found it satirical that the one puzzle he could not solve feared the very idea of herself. It was clear then that Atlas was facing a wall built so tall and so strong that it would take years to climb and decades to crumble. When he turned to face her, their steps falling into rhythm like a soothing drum, he couldn’t help the grimace that turned his curious lips.

She had many truths to confront.

“You shouldn’t fear— not with me,” he began. The words hung loosely between them, barren and without real meaning. To Lena the words wouldn’t matter. At least not yet. His actions were the only thing that could strip her of her intellect and bare her to the exciting world she’d somehow come to dread. How long had she hidden behind her fortress of composure and been content to play her part? “I’m not another. I’m me… and you shouldn’t fear with me.”

Atlas seemed to struggle with the sentiment, but his stare was unforgiving and true. It wasn’t his words that Lena was afraid of—she was well versed in the art of spinning tales and traps with her own—it was his smile, his touch, and his skin that frightened her the most. His proximity always made her quiet, made her deliberate the perfect rhymes to keep him at bay… This was the first part of the puzzle that Atlas was becoming certain of.  It was also a house of glass in which he couldn’t shatter.

As they ambled, his thoughts rushing forth from the darkness and the doubt, he listened to her breathe and he listened to her talk as she’d always done. Yet, slowly, and with care, Atlas began peeling away her layers, giving her the room to admit her truths and her adversities. Even if they were solely about him, they told more than she knew. “So, I am unknown to you…” he stated evenly and without a hint toward anything conclusive or telling. “But I don’t see you fleeing,” he breathed while drawing to a stop alongside her. “Clearly I am different. So what exactly are you afraid of?”