Back before the two got together, Salem and Atlas were friends.

It was kind of unexpected, from all sides. They got strange looks for a while, when they would hang out at school. As mentioned several times, they were quite opposite: Salem being such a good kid, and Atlas bad. It was an unlikely duo.

Salem remembers the first time Atlas visited him at lunch. He was skipping class, so he didn't stick around—although even on the rare occasion they had a lunch period together, he still wouldn't sit with them the whole time. Atlas had wanted to discuss a video game that they were going to play together, and Salem had only mentioned him to his friends a handful of times. Zona was concerned, and a bit suspicious. Milo and Cam were visibly uncomfortable.

Yeah, most people were unnerved by Atlas. He's always had a bit of a reputation, one that Salem was vaguely aware of, even when they first met. Salem is not easily intimidated, though. He never cared, never heeded any warnings. That was something he'd come to regret in time.

Eventually, Salem got curious. It was a Saturday, Atlas came over that night for a reason he didn't disclose, and Salem found himself wondering why they always hung out at his house. Atlas mentioned he had a somewhat big family, so maybe he just enjoyed the peace and quiet at Salem's? He was unsure, and they were in the middle of making flash cards—well, Salem was making flash cards. Atlas was distracted by his phone—when Salem finally gave in and asked.

"Why don't we ever go to your house?" Wow, that was a bit more blunt than Salem had intended. Atlas glanced up from his phone, and there was a slightly guarded look to his eyes.

"You wouldn't like it there." Was his response. Salem had frowned, because he highly doubted that. How could Atlas be so sure? Salem didn't mind a little noise, and he didn't think there would be any other downsides to going to the Marino (Di Angelo) household.

That's how it went every time, though. Salem didn't understand why, but any time he wanted to go to Atlas' house, the guy turned him down. Even after they began dating, even after Atlas met his father. Atlas never allowed Salem into his home. Salem still doesn't even know where the guy lives.

This is why, when he enters Catrine's office after school a few days after being assigned the project, he's less than pleased at the first thing she has to say.

"You have to find a way to do it at his house."

Salem frowns, staring at the lady. Jordan isn't here, and Catrine had notified him upon his entrance that the officer was on his way. Salem doesn't really care, though. Obviously. He finds Jordan to be more of an annoyance than anything, which is partially because the guy makes no sense. Ever. Salem can't figure him out to save his life.

Jordan Ellis just can't pick a mood, or a way to treat Salem. Sometimes he's polite, sometimes he's friendly, and sometimes he's in a bad mood. He just can't choose a work attitude. Salem thinks it may have something to do with all the ups and downs of his job, but he doesn't care. It's still annoying.

"How?" Salem asks, frowning. "Seriously, Catrine, he wants nothing to do with me. He's not going to let me in his house."

Salem ignores the way his chest aches at saying the words aloud. This shouldn't still affect him, Atlas' opinion of him. He has to stop giving a shit. Seriously.

"You need to find a way." She repeats. "We have hit dead end after dead end. You're our last resort—don't you want to see that family behind bars? Imagine how much safer the Toplines would be, with his father gone."

She has a valid point, and Salem averts his eyes to the desk. He hears the door behind him open, and sees the figure of Jordan out the corner of his eye. Jordan takes a seat by Catrine, on the adjacent side of the desk, and Salem crosses his arms.

"It's just going to be difficult. Atlas is—he's really stubborn. Do you have any idea how I could do this?"

"You don't think there's a chance of friendship?"

A chance of friendship. Salem can't help but to frown at the thought, at the memories that assault his brain. A chance of going back to the way things were, before they ever got together. Before they got too close, before Salem fell in love.

Before the feelings. Before the kiss.

Salem remembers it like it could've happened yesterday. He's going to remember, and regret, that day for the rest of his life. It was such a turning point, such a prominent event. He couldn't forget it if he wanted to.

Oh, and he wants to.

They were in the middle of an argument, unsurprisingly. Before they got together and Atlas began conceding more often than not, they used to disagree all the time, about basically everything. That sort of thing happens frequently, when two polar opposites spend a decent amount of time together. This specific one was different, though. There was more tension that time.

"Seriously, Atlas, you need to study." Salem scolded, standing in the middle of his bedroom with his arms crossed. He was glaring at the guy, who was lounging on his bed and eating chips. He wasn't making a mess, which Salem was thankful for.

"No."

"Why?" Salem asked, glaring at him. He'd been trying to get Atlas to study for his exams for at least ten minutes by then. He just wouldn't listen, and Salem really didn't understand. He didn't get why Atlas even came over, if he wasn't going to study with Salem. What was the point of him being there, then?

Salem would be lying if he were to say he didn't enjoy the guy's company, though.

"I don't want to." Atlas had said, like it was obvious. Like that even answered the question.

"Then why did you come over? I thought we were going to study together." Salem asked, still feeling both irritated and confused. Usually when he invited Atlas over, he wanted to study together. That was the basis of it all. So, it made absolutely no sense for him to come over if he was only going to lounge around.

"Maybe I just like seeing you."

Immediately, Salem's face was red. His eyes widened, and his hands were fidgety. In hopes to calm his racing heart and warm cheeks, he reached up and placed his cold hands over them.

"I-Okay, well..." he said, trying to remember what they were even talking about. The way Atlas was looking at him made him nervous, though, and he tried to think of a response. "Um."

"I've noticed something." Atlas continued, inquisitive expression on his face. Salem's heart was beating faster, wondering what exactly Atlas had noticed. Despite his grades, Atlas is still one of the smartest people Salem's ever met. Especially when it comes to street knowledge and body language.

"What?" Salem had asked, voice quiet. He thought he may have known where Atlas was going with that, but there was no way he was going to talk about the tension between them. Not aloud, no way.

"You blush a lot." He said, chip bag now forgotten beside him. "Especially around me."

Salem blinked, staring at Atlas, this sixteen year old boy that had occupied an embarrassing amount of space in his mind for almost the entirety of freshman year. He couldn't think of a single thing he didn't like about the guy, aside from the secrecy. He was unbelievably attractive, with muscles that could probably crush Salem with ease. Even the way he talked, with his slight hint of an accent, Salem loved. His tattoos and piercings only added to it, and maybe the bad boy aesthetic is just Salem's type. All he knows is that he found every goddamn thing about the guy attractive. His fighting, even his asshole attitude, and the bandages that always wrapped his fists. The thrill, the mystery, the danger.

Salem was fucking addicted, a fact he couldn't deny. To this day he blames his attraction to bad things on the fact that he's constantly surrounded by good.

Atlas would be bad for him. He knew so even then.

These feelings were why Atlas pointing out such a small thing made him unbelievably nervous. It's because the roots of that fact, of his feelings, went far deeper than Atlas would ever know.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Salem had replied, though his voice was clearly unsure. Oh, he was lying through his teeth.

"Yeah you do," he said, sitting up a bit more. Salem felt uncomfortable, so he walked over to his desk and began organizing his homework. It was unnecessary, since his homework was already organized, but he needed something to occupy himself. "You're blushing right now."

Salem pursed his lips, closing his eyes and feeling thankful he was facing away from Atlas. He wouldn't be able to see the panic that was clear on Salem's face. "What are you saying?"

There was a silence, but Salem didn't dare look back. He couldn't. "I'm not saying anything. Just wanna know why."

"I don't know." Salem said, reluctantly turning to face the guy. Atlas was in the process of standing up, which threw his nerves in overdrive. Salem was looking strictly at the floor, backed as far as he could possibly be against the desk. "Maybe I'm just warm."

"Yeah, you're definitely warm."

Salem didn't even know what Atlas meant by that, but it still had his face heating up even more. Well, actually, that's probably what he meant. Atlas was getting closer at this point, and it was taking everything in him to keep his breathing steady. God, why did Atlas make him so nervous? Why couldn't Salem just be a fucking person around him? He needed to calm down.

"Okay, well, there you go." He responded, still not making eye contact. Atlas was almost right in front of him at that point. Salem, it's going to be okay. Atlas has no idea what he's talking about. He's not onto you at all.

Besides, Salem thought Atlas was out of his league, anyway. Sure, Salem wasn't ugly. However, he wasn't hot like Atlas. Most people described him as cute more than anything. He blamed his small stature and freckles, though thankfully by that point he'd switched to contacts so he didn't have to worry about the nerdy glasses making it worse. He's grown into his body a bit more now, though. Thankfully. He was able to land the cheer captain, after all.

"You shouldn't lie to yourself. Or me." Atlas said, like he had any room to talk. Salem was too on edge to think of a witty response, though there was probably a goldmine of them. Atlas kept so many secrets it was almost obsessive, so he really had no right judging Salem for the same thing. Still, Salem didn't say that. He couldn't think.

"You should mind your business." Salem replied, feeling defensive. Atlas was right in front of him then, and at Salem's words, he leaned forward. His rested his hands on either side of Salem, and it was clear that Atlas was staring at him. Salem refused to make eye contact, hearing his heartbeat in his ears.

"How you feel," he said, "is my business."

Salem frowned, wondering what exactly Atlas meant by that. How he feels? Was he getting at what Salem thought he was? Did he know?

"Especially if it has to do with me."

Oh, he knew.

Salem grabbed Atlas' bicep, ignoring the muscle he felt there, and the way it made his breath hitch. He finally made eye contact. Glare present on his face, he demanded, "move."

"Why?"

"Because," Salem felt exasperated, and he huffed out a sigh of frustration. Why did Atlas need him to explain it? Shouldn't it have been obvious? "I don't want you this close to me."

That was a lie, and Atlas clearly knew it. Salem seriously wasn't fooling anyone, it was obvious how much he did not mind their proximity. The temperature of his cheeks and stammer to his voice made that abundantly clear.

"You're so bad at this," Atlas remarked. Salem narrowed his eyes. "You actually think I haven't noticed?"

"Noticed what?" Salem snapped, a bit more attitude present. Atlas raised an eyebrow, and his face was closer. Salem tried to keep himself calm. Nothing was happening, Atlas was just messing with him. Stop. Please.

"How nervous you are, for one." He began. Salem averted his eyes, feeling transparent under Atlas' steely gaze. He felt like an ant under a magnifying glass, every move being studied. "You always want to be around me, care way too much about my future—you care way too much, generally."

Salem gulped, heart rate increasing tenfold at Atlas' next words. "Looking at me, inviting me over—also, you really suck at keeping your hands to yourself."

"Huh? When?" Salem asked in confusion, wondering what exactly Atlas meant by that. He didn't think he initiated that much physical contact. Atlas made him too nervous to do anything like that.

"Well..." Atlas began, and Salem really could not figure out what he was going to say. Keep his hands to himself? What? When? "On my bike. Most people would just grab my shoulders."

"Okay, no," Salem said, shaking his head, though he immediately knew what Atlas was talking about. So what if he used that as an excuse to touch Atlas a bit more than necessary? He didn't think he was that obvious!

He knew that everything Atlas just said was 100%, without a doubt, the truth. However, he was far too embarrassed and nervous to admit to it. "None of that is true—"

"Yeah?" Atlas interrupted, clearly finding amusement in the situation. He then took hold of Salem's wrists and placed them against his chest, one falling closer to his abdominal area. Salem couldn't stop his eyes from widening, going with it easily and taking the excuse to feel the muscles underneath Atlas' shirt. "That's not familiar?"

Salem finally met his eyes, the desire he tried so hard to push down rearing it's head. He felt up Atlas' chest, then his shoulders, until finally reaching his hair. He started running his hands through it, feeling kind of dazed. Atlas was a lot closer now, face inches from Salem's as he studied him.

"...it is." He admitted, now unable to look way from Atlas' lips. How attractive Atlas Di Angelo was should've been fucking illegal, and he's only gotten hotter with time. Salem hates admitting that to himself, but Atlas has always been everything he's attracted to put into one person.

"I know." Atlas mumbled, tilting his head a bit. He was leaning forward at the perfect angle, and Salem thought there was no way this was happening. Atlas? Interested in him? What a joke!

He was keeping heavy eye contact with Salem, though, who was a fidgeting mess. Atlas knew, that's what he said, and he was talking about more than Salem making excuses to feel his muscles on a motorcycle. He was talking about Salem's feelings. His desire. His attraction. He knew.

The memory of what Atlas did next has Salem wincing, and suddenly he's back in Catrine's office. He no longer wants to have this conversation, sighing out a defeated, "no."

Then, despite how much he hates to admit it, "there's no going back."