Chapter Text
It had been a grey morning that gave way to an even more grey afternoon. Alex arrived promptly as promised but was surprised to have the door opened to him by Miles’ mum instead of his friend. He greeted her with his best winning smile and wished her a happy new year, clinging to his leather overnight bag as he stood in the hallway.
“C’mon in out of the cold, love,” she gushed, pulling him in for a tight hug. She smelled like Miles did but with something slightly floral and she hugged him close before ushering him inside, gesturing for him to put his things down and take off his coat.
“I’ll pop the kettle on, yea? Miles’ is just in the shower, shouldn’t be long I don’t think, he’s a little worse for wear jus’ between us!” She chuckled good naturedly, offering him a tin of biscuits to take his pick.
It never failed to make him smile seeing that biscuit tin on the kitchen table — the same as his own mother’s table — filled with the same brands of biscuits his mum kept too. He picked out a Breakaway and asked her how her Christmas had been; did she have a good time? Had she liked the gift Miles got her? Alex had helped him choose the best seats for the show he’d booked for her to go and see. And the scent of the candle. Then they’d deliberated over cushions in John Lewis for ages before Miles found one she’d like to match the new decor in the living room.
“Everything was lovely, and thank you so much for the chocolates darling, can’t believe you remembered they’re my favourites!” Alex smiles, opening the fridge to pass her some milk and hide his blushing cheeks. He dutifully finishes making their tea, and an extra one for Miles too, assuming he’ll emerge soon. In yeh meantime, they make small talk about the holidays and the little gathering taking place later that evening that Alex had been invited to rather last minute. “It’s good of you to come, love, I think our Miles really appreciates it. Yer good fer him and all, always lights up when yer around. Very important to ‘ave friends like tha’, y’both bring out the best in each other,” she babbles away happily enough, putting away dishes and cleaning the worktops, “especially when there’s so much been going on lately, that lovely lady and all…” she pauses and Alex hums, unsure what to say on the subject of the breakup. “Anyway,” she utters breezily, “what about you, anyone on the scene?”
Alex burns his tongue on a much too rapid sip of tea but he’s saved from too much anguish by the appearance of Miles in the doorway. His hair’s damp and shaggy and he looks woefully under-slept but he greets Alex with a crooked smile and throws an arm round his shoulders and the other round his waist, squeezing him close.
“What’re you two gossiping abou’ then?” He rasps, voice low as if he’s trying not to worsen what’s clearly a terrible hangover.
“Not a lot, mate,” Alex says. Ruffling his hair he catches his wince and chuckles, “good night, then?”
He snorts a laugh, gratefully accepting the mug of tea. Alex frowns at the way he huddles around it. “Mmm yeh, late one.”
“4am he came in!” Pauline interjects, only softness in her tone as she smiles at her son.
“Mum, I told y’not to wai’ up!” He mumbles.
“Well I can’t bloody help i’ can I Miles, I need to know yer home and safe before I can ge’ a wink of sleep, tha’s just what mums do!”
Alex briefly wonders if his mum’s the same, she’s never voiced as much but he’s sure she could be. He can’t wonder for too long since Miles is mumbling apologies and slouching against the top of the counter. He looks perfect, Alex thinks, even in this cold, grey late morning light, with his baggy T-shirt and old sweatpants and bleary eyes. They mutter back and forth for a little while and Alex just watches, taking in details like the down turned edges of his lips and how he looks just a little distant, and the set of his shoulders like he’s dejected. He watches as Miles sighs and then yawns and when he takes a sip of his tea Alex wonders if there isn’t a slightly too far off look in his eye. Suddenly he longs to hug him, the simple squeeze of an arm round him in greeting definitely wasn’t enough. He wants to hold him close and wait for him to breathe deeply and fully relax. A study in Miles’ mum’s kitchen over a cup of tea has him thinking that maybe the candle’s been burning at both ends for a little while too long. Alex is certainly no stranger to the empty void at the end of a tour that feels impossible to fill and left you desperately cramming your days with anything you could to not be alone.
Miles’ most recent tour had ended barely a few weeks before Christmas and it had ended on the back of a breakup. Alex turned up at his friend’s flat unannounced because he felt like staying with him for a bit, he wouldn’t admit it but he liked the idea of “keeping an eye on him” like it was his responsibility to do so. For those few days together they’d ordered food and watched movies and gone to the pub and played guitar and Miles never once seemed to de-compress from it all, he was upbeat and quick to laugh and he never stayed still, he woke up early and FaceTimed friends and went jogging and joined a martial arts gym and cooked and danced around to the radio and he teased Alex relentlessly. It all felt so normal and so reasonable and far enough from unhealthy that Alex wondered what he’d been so worried about.
Watching the man shuffle about offering them both toast, double check when they both declined and then shrug before making himself some he sees it again. The slope to his shoulders and the awkward curve of his frowning lips. He looks like a man who’s finally let himself stop and breathe and in doing so has exhaled every ounce of energy he had left. If Alex had felt an urge to hold him earlier that was nothing compared to now, his arms itched to reach out. Rain starts to fall against the window and a rough wind howls. That dark sky is almost black.
“Hmmm,” Miles annunciates, “shit weather.”
“Well I’m glad you didn’t get caught in it yesterday,” Pauline surmises, “considering you slept in your clothes and all.” Alex raises an eyebrow, giggling despite the worry that gnaws at his periphery over the what ifs. Miles catches his eye and offers up his own little laugh, a sleepy smile sticking around.
“Wild night.”
—————/—————
“Sorry, was gunna drag you out fer a walk… but I can’ face the weather right now. Maybe later eh?” Miles suggests, sinking into the settee and patting beside himself before dramatically draping an arm over his face. Feeling far from at home despite having been there plenty of times, Alex mumbles an “s’alreyt,” and perches beside him, fumbling with the flicker Miles had thrown in his direction.
He sticks on BBC 2, only because BBC 1 had the news on and nobody wants that on New Year’s Day. It’s a documentary and Alex considers it decidedly inoffensive, especially since Miles isn’t watching anyway, just nursing his mug of tea, staring down into it with an intensity that Alex mimics by studying his expression.
“Why’re you being so quiet ?” He voices, more of a mumble than anything else. “I got you round early so we could hang out!”
“I-I… Wasn’t expectin’ you to be this hungover.” He admits, extra quietly. Then, lest Miles should take it the wrong way, he drops a hand to his ankle, noticing the difference in temperature between his warm hand and Miles’ chilly foot. It takes a lot to hold in a soft suggestion that he ought to wear socks and instead just gently squeeze as if to reassure.
“S’okay Mi, y’can jus’… be… we don’ ‘ave t’ talk or ‘owt.” He flashes a smile, “I’ll wait till yer more awake eh?”
Miles’ answering smile is pathetic but it’s also genuine, so much so that Alex’s chest feels warm and he doesn’t bother to think too hard about it before he’s letting his arm wrap itself around his friend firmly, focussing only on the way that Miles sighs and leans in instead of away from him.
Miles sips at his tea slowly, and then when he’s drank barely half of it he grimaces and pushes it aside much like he’d done with his toast earlier. This time though, instead of apologising to his mum, he seeks comfort from Alex and his waiting arms, groaning softly. Alex’s breath gets caught, waiting for Miles’ to stop moving, to settle down and get himself comfy so that he can let his muscles relax and maybe, just maybe, sift through his hair like he’s been dying to ever since he got there. Unexpectedly, Miles chooses to curl up into a tight, pitiful ball with his head resting gingerly on Alex’s thigh and his arms crossed over his chest.
“Y’need a blanket or summat?” Alex manages, once he’s regained the ability to breathe. His hands still hover uncertainly, one on the back of the settee and the other beside him, inches from that precious head of hair. Miles sighs. “Dunno… no, I uhm, it’s fine.”
“Aight.”
Alex calculates, takes his time about it until he can be sure that he’s being casual about the way he’s angling to touch. He starts with one hand resting on Miles’ shoulder and then takes a moment to recompose himself, running a hand through his own hair roughly. His cheeks are flaming by the time he slides his fingers into Miles’ hair. Miles stays quiet and Alex isn’t sure if he’s intentionally choosing not to react to protect Alex’s fragile confidence or if he’s not noticed or if he just doesn’t care. Before he can spiral in his overthinking, Miles shifts.
“Thanks fer sayin’ you’d come tonight.” Miles murmurs.
Alex stills. “Yeh, course.” Truth be told he’s not even sure what tonight is. Some kind of new year’s drinks thing with some of Miles’ friends? Maybe a birthday? He zones out, half tuning in to the documentary and the soothing tones of the commentary. He’s a bit hungover himself in fairness, not nearly as bad as Miles of course, in fact, he can’t really ever remember seeing Miles this pathetic. He sifts, unthinking, through his hair, fondness falling from his fingers by the ton. It’s a special delight when Miles shuts his eyes and hums softly in response.
Alex whiles away time by taking in all the small things, things he recognises like the faint freckle on Miles’ neck and the way his hair curls up onto his cheek beside his ear. Then he notices the things he’s not used to. Miles’ rings and bracelets are nowhere to be seen, making his hands look bare and somehow vulnerable. He’s not sure he’s ever noticed before but Miles must take his jewellery off when he showers. It makes sense but still he’s surprised at the novelty of his discovery. He wonders where it is now. A little pile of everything he associates with Miles somewhere in the house. Maybe on his bedside table or the windowsill in the bathroom. He watches his own hands slip in and out of that messy hair, his ring, worn specially for the occasion, covered and then exposed again. He watches Miles’ dark eye lashes as he blinks slowly and deliberately, only semi focusing on the tv.
He’s held back from voicing anything by Miles’ mum wandering back into the room. Automatically he moves his hands aside settling them how they’d before he’d mustered up the courage to move them in the first place. Pauline plucks Miles’ half empty mug from the coffee table and as she turns to leave Miles stops her.
“Mum?”
Alex’s heart flips a little at the way he sounds, voice so quiet and lacking it’s usual cheekiness. His mum seems to think so too because she looks up and meets Alex’s eye with a hint of a frown.
“Yes love, you okay?”
Alex watches him reach a hand up to push some hair out of the way of his face and he wishes he’d thought to move it for him.
“Yeh, uhm could y’fetch me some water please?”
Immediately Alex shifts. “I can go Mi-“ he tries but Miles’ hand settles on his thigh and both Alex and Miles’ mum recognise that he doesn’t want Alex to move so Pauline takes pity on him.
“I’ll fetch i’, but don’t you be gettin’ used t’ this!” She jokes. “Can I get y’ anything too, luv? Looks like you might be stuck there a while.” He shakes his head and thanks her and he’s sure that they both know that he’s there as much by choice as because Miles insisted.
By the time Pauline reappears with a glass of water and a packet of painkillers Alex has switched over to another channel to avoid bargain hunt and turned the volume down as adverts cycle through between programmes.
“You’ll have to sit up, darlin’.”
Miles groans to show his discontent but he does as he’s told. Alex can only imagine how much his head is swimming. He winces, uttering a grateful thanks along with an apology that his mum quickly waves off on her way out of the room. Alex watches him knock back the pills and sip his water with a tentativity that suggests he’s feeling terrible. A small part of Alex reminds him that this is self inflicted and Miles is his best friend so he really could tease him if he wanted to lighten the mood. Instead his chest goes tight from all the solace he’s desperate to bestow.
“Y’know, we don’ ‘ave t’ go out later.”
Miles seems to think on it for a moment but then he drinks more water and shifts uncomfortably, voice quiet when he speaks.
“I have to Al.”
He clears his throat, glassy eyes fixing on Alex’s. “It’s a birthday party for a friend, old friend from school I… I’ve missed ‘is last two, tours and stuff, and being elsewhere for other parties and tha’, and this uhm, he’s doin’ the birthday early so’s everyone can make it.”
Alex frowns at the understanding that “everyone” might mean Miles in particular and that “other parties” might well mean his own which generally happen within the same week. This is a friend of Miles’ whose birthday he can’t miss for the third year in a row and yet Alex has never, in 6 years of knowing Miles, met him.
“Well are you sure you want me there?”
Mikes frowns, fixes him with a soft approximation of his usual reassuring smile. “Yeh I… said I was bringin’ a plus one ages ago bu’ erm… well,” he hesitates, shrugs, “but don’ worry tho, they know yer not me date!” He adds, flashing a little smile.
That little joke is the perkiest Alex has seen him all day so he does his best to ignore the way it makes his throat constrict a little, does his best to remember that he’s being supportive because Miles was head over heels for the girl that he was meant to be bringing.
“No, course, yeh, just… I don’t know em so-“
“-oh y’do actually!”
He explains that it’s the birthday of one of his old band mates and that they knew Alex was coming and that he didn’t need to worry about it because there’d actually be a few people there that he knew and that they all knew about the situation with Miles now ex-girlfriend. Feeling a little more at ease, Alex nods and dares to drop that arm back around Miles’ shoulders. Good decision it appears because the man hums, shuts his eyes and leans ever so slightly toward him.
“Whoaaa, okay.” Alex chuckles, taking that precariously balanced glass of water and stretching to set it down on the table. “Just… let them paracetamol kick in and when yer feelin’ better I’ll tek ye fer a long romantic walk on th beach hm?” He aims for a joke, heart slumping to a more comfortable beat when Miles offers a hoarse laugh.
”Cheers, Al.”
The TV’s starting up the beginning of the Snowman and the Snowdog which Alex decides to leave on because it’s not particularly long and the quiet soundtrack is pleasant enough and he’s got a sneaking suspicion that Miles might fall asleep if he stays quiet and continues soothing. He does wish that he’d go back to lying across his lap though. It just made him feel so needed then, like he was absolutely improving Miles’ day. Now they’re just sitting beside one another and Miles is just barely pressed up to him.
Taking a breath to steady the nerves that have suddenly appeared he reaches around Miles for the throw blanket draped artfully over the back of the settee and in a few stilted moves he manages to get it to cover Miles up, a feat that apparently he appreciates, if the quiet content little mumbles and the way he shuffles even closer are anything to go by.
At a loss for what to do next Alex decides to stay as perfectly still as possible except for the hand around Miles’ shoulder where he lets his thumb slide over the seam of his T-shirt repetitively. Miles doesn’t say anything for a while, eyes trained on the telly and limbs tucked in close to himself. To Alex, who’s used seeing him take up a certain amount of space, he seems too small. But he can’t be too concerned since Miles’ breathing has gone steady and deep, chest rising and falling rhythmically and every time it does his whole body expands the tiniest bit, pushing up against Alex’s arm like a continuous reminder that Miles is still there and not about to go anywhere.
He’s too focussed on Miles to be honest and so he’s not really watching the short film on the screen. Based on the glazed look to his eyes he could’ve sworn that Miles wasn’t either. Alex’s attention remains fixated on that one piece of hair that insists on falling across hype man’s forehead, wondering if he should reach over to move it but conscious that if he does then it might shatter the peace they’ve found. He’s just considering a way to do it seamlessly, without any jolting, when instead he notices that Miles’ glazed eyes are closed. First he smiles, thinking he’s fallen asleep already. Then the man squeezes his eyes closed firmly, a new wrinkling frown appearing between his eyebrows before he opens his eyes and Alex realised that his eyelashes are damp and stuck together. Miles’ breathing, previously so even and natural slows to a shuddering gasping breath that sounds a little too much like a sob and then he blinks again. Before Alex can say anything he’s shifted so that his tucked away hands are free to cover his face.
“Miles,” Alex breathes out, his tone soft, aiming for gentleness and understanding. Having done away with the concern over disturbing Miles, he quickly moves his arms so they wrap around him properly and Miles twists awkwardly to fit. A protective little knot somewhere in Alex’s chest loosens a little at the way he’d twisted into his hold rather than away.
“Stupid bloody movie,” he gasps, his voice even more hoarse thank before. “M’fine, it’s just sad, I’m…” he pauses and doesn’t say it but Alex knows he’s sad too.
”Shh I know, it’s alreyt, Miles.”
He can’t see his face but he knows he’s still crying because his shoulders are shaking just a little so Alex lets his hands roam over his back, feeling the warm skin and the fabric of his T-shirt wrinkling beneath his hands, hating that Miles is hurting and desperate to take it all away and laugh over shit TV instead or stand outside in the brisk January air, talk about something totally unrelated, wander along thy lovely stretch of coastline where the wet sand reflects the sun and even on cold, grey days like today you feel buoyed up by the salt smell and the coastal air.
“It is a sad movie,” Alex agrees, although he’s never seen it and he’s not even been watching but Miles nods against his chest and there’s that heart breaking sound again that makes Alex tighten his arms around him.
“You’re fine,” he tries again, hoping to reassure and Miles nods. His voice goes even quieter as he leans in and speaks against his hair, “an’ ah’ve got ye.” It takes everything he’s got not to land a kiss there as he says it.
Miles stays there for a while and as much as he hates to see him hurting Alex is sure he could have handled him staying there for twice as long but eventually he takes a deep breath and Alex, knowing that he’s about to move, loosens his arms to offer the freedom for him to do so. He’s minimally pleased when “moving” just means wiping his eyes and uncovering his face and then settling back down exactly how he had before. Maybe even a little closer. Now that he knows it’s okay to touch him, Alex reaches to gently move aside his fringe from his forehead, ghostlike fingers over his skin as he tucks that hair away. His eyes are red and his eyelashes still damp, cheeks blotchy pink and pale, the downturned corners of his lips are too obvious for Alex’s liking and the wrinkling frown at his brow is firmly in place. He sniffs and rubs a hand over his eyes before sighing.
“Oh love, what’s wrong?” Neither of them had noticed Miles’ mum enter the room but Miles huffs and wipes his eyes harshly again.
“Movie’s sad, m’fine.”
Pauline glances from Miles to the telly and then up to Alex. He offers her a shrug and a frown and subconsciously pushes his fingers through Miles’ hair. Tender. A tear tracks down from the corner of Miles’ eye toward his temple and then halfway down his cheek before he roughly dries it with the heel of his hand before Alex can brush it away on his behalf.
“Oh you daft sod,” Pauline remarks fondly, “you’re in no state today to be watchin’ this!”
Alex raises an eyebrow in question but Miles remains resolutely quiet and it’s his mum who supplies helpfully, “he’d always cry at The Snowman when he was younger, didn’t y’ love? Not sure that was the best choice on a hangover.”
Miles only sighs and insists again that it’s fine, just a sad movie. He waits until she’s left to mumble something about the fleeting-ness of those creations, a “why would y’ put the time and the energy into something tha’ you know isn’ gunna last?” He pauses as if to let Alex revel in his slightly too profound question. “And then they did it with a bloody dog too! The kid’s dog literally jus’ died… why would ‘e… why didn’ ‘is mum stop ‘im?”
He gestures at the screen irritatedly with one of those bare, jewellery free hands and his eyes glassy from crying and the hangover and his hair messy from Alex’s careful fingers. In the wake of his philosophical rambles Alex’s breath catches.
“Do you wanna change the channel?” He asks, stroking his hair still.
“No, it’s okay.”
“Okay.” He pauses. “You want some tissues or summat?”
“No Al, I’m fine, just… don’t move yeh?”
He nods, stilling his hand and moving it back to rest on his shoulder again. Miles bites his lip, eyes fixed on the screen again. “You can carry on playin’ wiv my hair tho.”
Alex certainly doesn’t need telling twice. A few minutes later Miles sniffs again he’s started tapping with his fingers against each other, like he’s nervous or self conscious maybe about his little outburst. Alex takes a breath and covers his jittering fingers with his own.
“Mi? Uhm, ah know this… isn’t abaht the movie, mate,” he begins, frowning at the way he blinks and avoids eye contact. Alex pulls him closer.
“I fink we… put effort into things even if they’re fleetin’ because… because you get so much joy outta the things you work hard to create. I mean…” he bites his lip, “you love food right? And y’ could just eat food because you ‘ave t’ jus’ t’ live, but maybe you spend a little extra time creatin’ a meal even tho it’s gonna just be eaten anyway because… because you enjoy the creation of it, and because it’s all the more rewarding for it. It’s the same with music, or life or… or a relationship.” He pauses, squeezing Miles’ hand.
“What I’m tryna say is, y’ put all this effort in, not because something is necessarily gonna last forever but because it’s gonna last as long as it lasts and you wanna enjoy it while it does and because somewhere, deep down, y’know y’ can still cherish the memories of it long after it’s gone yeh? And you can enjoy the process of- of cultivatin’ it too.”
Miles blinks at him, eyes wide. He looks away, fiddling with a loose thread on the blanket.
“M’not sayin’ that the… that when it’s gone you shouldn’t be upset, of course y’can feel that way because you miss it, and tha’s understandable. But… y’know in time you’ll remember it with happiness and those good times and all the effort that you took and were willing to put in. And then you’ll,” he looks away for a moment, slides his hand down to rub that same thumb over Miles’ upper arm against the warm skin where his T-shirt sleeve has ridden up a little. “Then eventually y’might wanna try again?”
Miles breathes out heavily, still avoiding looking at Alex but Alex knows he’s heard everything and taken it all in because he feels around for his other hand and squeezes it. The lump that’s set itself up to stay in Alex’s throat, hardens to successfully shut him up and he squeezes back. The movie plays on, almost over now anyway and the soundtrack hovers over Alex’s heart as a heavy cloud. New things he finds out about Miles all the time, this movie and the original making him cry even as a child, the depth of it all, an understanding lost on him until that very afternoon.
“Thanks Al.” Comes the mumble, startling him from that stormy reverie.
“Yeh, ‘course.” He squeezes the arm round his shoulders. “Now c’mon, let’s go fer that walk hmm? You’ll feel better. I’ll let ye wear me new jumper and I’ll even buy y’ some chips at the Green Hut,” he offers, earning the first genuine smile he’d seen from the man all day which he returns without thinking.