Alfred E. Smith Playground, Thursday Afternoon

You know what the really annoying thing was about Truth Day? Okay, the whole 'compelled to speak the truth' thing, that was pretty annoying, and it got Atton in a very primal, stubborn place where he absolutely refused to let it rule him but also refused to run away from it and refused to lean into it. Which, in turn, had brought him to the bar, and while having to acknowledge, however vaguely, the reality of Summer's major unrequited crush on him wasn't annoying, it was part of a twenty-year pattern of him having to dodge and weave around other people's crushes on him for a variety of ever-changing reasons his therapist probably had some thoughts about, but--

It wasn't the really annoying part. The really annoying part, Atton thought to himself as he gripped the chains of the swing and awkwardly pushed himself forward, was the concept of the truth itself. It had nestled itself somewhere in a very public part of Atton's consciousness yesterday. Now he couldn't stop thinking about it.

And how there were too many conversations out here in New York that he'd put on the back burner. Or maybe even in an icebox. Maybe stuffed into a garbage disposal, even. Conversations about where he came from, yeah, and what he was doing here, and why he was doing it. Conversations about what he wanted to be doing, but wasn't, because Atton was a coward and therapy was hard and he felt a strange guilt about figuring this particular thing out, like it would be an insult to Sia.

But. Maybe, just maybe, said that little itching nickel of a thought, he should pull these conversations out of the garbage and actually have them. Maybe - just maybe! - they might even make his life a little better.

Eventually, he settled on a compromise. Maybe he could have one more conversation, just to get into the swing of it, and if life didn't blow up, maybe he could have another one. That decided, with effort and dignity, he lifted himself off the stupid swing. Yeah. Yeah, if Trent finding out about him not being Earthy hadn't ended anything, then maybe...

---

"We need to talk!" The door hit the wall with more force than he'd intended. To an otherwise perfect silence. Because Dane wasn't there.

Because it was a Thursday afternoon and he absolutely had regular shifts on Thursday afternoons.

Atton facepalmed. Quietly. To himself. At least no one--

"I'm rooting for you, honey," Mrs. Jodorowsky called encouragingly from across the hall.

Space. And he couldn't even ethically text Summer to complain for at least a couple of days, and Lana would just Lana at him if he tried her. "I'm going back to the playground!"

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