#everyone was talking about the beatles in the vicinity of the memorial and I sat there for a while so I overheard a lot

[wolfsplosion]

doodle I did while visiting Strawberry Fields

[girlinthepictureframe]

The Briefest Kiss Part 15

Early April 2019

“Miles!” Suki made her way through the busy club and smiled when she reached him. “Oh, it’s been too long, isn’t it?” She pecked his cheek, then pinched it playfully. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” said Miles, scooting to the side of the large velvet sofa in the back of the VIP area of the club, away from prying eyes and cameras, to make room for her. “How are you? I’ve heard you’re constantly jetting back and forth these days! Life is good, then?”

“Life is amazing,” she smiled. “Are you single at the moment?” The smile made way for a sneaky grin. “I gotta ask ‘cause I’m here with this friend of mine and she’s very into The Beatles. Also, she looks a bit like me, so she’s totally your type!”

He laughed. “Appreciate that, but…it’s the wrong time for that.”

She sat closer to him. “Why? Are you seeing anybody? Do I know her?”

“There's not…exactly...” He chuckled at himself. Explaining it felt rather ridiculous. “A long story. I don’t want to bore you with that.”

“Bore me good,” smirked Suki, put her purse on the floor, crossed her legs and grabbed the drink from his hand. “Bore me real good, darling!”

He loved that there was no lingering awkwardness between them. For as long as they had dated, years ago, things had been good. And when things had stopped being good, they had parted as genuine friends. Which mattered a lot to him, for he had always admired and appreciated her view of the world and her fearless approach to life.

She gave him a pointed look. “Start talking. I want to know.”

“There’s a somebody, alright. And I’m in love.”

“So you do have a somebody! Who is it?”

“It’s a somebody that’s not mine. He doesn’t feel the same.”

“How dare he?” she asked, offended on his behalf. “Do I know him?” He swallowed and she smiled. “Oh, I know him! Who is it? A model? A musician? An actor?”

“You’re not surprised that it’s a guy?”

“No? Why should I be? It’s 2019, Miles. Love whomever. But nice way of changing the topic. Come on, who is it?”

The waiter stopped by and he grabbed another drink from the tray when she leaned in and whispered, “is it Alex?”

Miles almost dropped the glass.

Suki giggled. “Damn, I’m good.” She pulled out her phone and started texting. A moment later, the phone vibrated. She giggled louder.

“What are you doing right now?”

“Telling Alexa that she owes me money!”

“What? Why?” He was lost. Completely.

“We made a bet years ago! I said you would fall first and she said he would fall first. You did fall first, right?” She eyed him skeptically. “I got my eyes on a nice pair of very expensive suede boots. Be honest here!”

“Told you,” assured Miles. “He’s not into me.”

“How would you know, though?”



“I just do!” he said.

She gnawed on her bottom lip. Unconvinced. “You’re a guy. Guys and love. That’s a whole other thing. Let me demonstrate.” She turned towards him, cupped his face and looked deeply into his eyes. “I love you.” Then she pressed a quick kiss on his lips.

Miles leaned back a bit, suddenly uncomfortable. “Um…”

She burst out laughing. “See?”


He shook his head. No, he was too stunned, too confused, to see.

“You’re a guy. You hear something, you believe it. The bunch of like your lives simple like that. But feelings are complicated.” She linked her arm with his and tipped their glasses together. “I’ve met Alex. I’ve seen you with him. The two of you…you’re two halves of a whole. Everyone always says so.”

“Alex and I…there’s a certain kind of attraction,” allowed Miles. “I won’t deny that. And something might have happened, but,” he added quickly, seeing her wide eyes, “I won’t spill anymore details! However, he and I are friends.”

“That’s not a reason not to be with somebody when you love him.” She winked at him. “You are I were friends.”

She was cornering him and he didn’t like that. “But—”

“No but. Think about it, Miles. Whatever it is that you and he have done, would you have done it with a stranger? Would it have felt the same?”

“No,” he admitted, “but I don’t deny that I’m in love with him.”

“Do you think he would have done it with a stranger? Would he have done, whatever he has done, without a certain kind of feeling for you?”

Would he? Miles was struck. It hadn’t been a simple kind of fuck. He’d had those in his life. He knew those felt different. The kind of thing he had experienced with Alex was different. It was haunting. It still lingered on his body, like a scent one couldn't shrug. It was one of the reasons it left him longing for more of it. It had been the kind of thing that showed you that life had something else, something more to offer – something you never even knew existed.

“You should tell him.”

“That I’m in love with him? I can’t, Suki. How selfish would that be? I unburden my heart and place all that weight on his? Besides,” confessed Miles. “Even if he shared those feelings, it wouldn't change anything. We would never work out. I mean, you’re the one who told me I’m not made for the forever-kind-of-love.”

She rolled his eyes. “We had just broken up, Miles. I was hurt. I said something I shouldn’t have said. I also said that you had the worst style ever and then I went and stole half of your closet! So what if you try and fail?”

“If we fail, I’ll lose him,” said Miles.

Suki shook her head. “I wish you weren't this pessimistic. We need another drink. Let’s party that gloominess out of you!”

Present Day

May 2019

Miles checked his phone. Again. When he had told Alex not to call him, he hadn’t really foreseen that he’d take that literally. Radio silence, week three. He tossed the pencil across the room, sighed heavily and leaned back on the cold floor of his London apartment. Surrounded by his acoustic, two electrics, an amp, a notepad and a withering biology book, Miles felt cornered. Every item in his vicinity was telling him to express his feelings, to write it down, to sing it out or to just let go, but the words refused to come to him today. They had abandoned him, along with his good mood, his interest in being sociable and every other reason to leave the apartment and enjoy life.

Instead, here he was, on the floor of a dimly lit room that was filled with memories of a life that used to be his and which he might never regain. Okay, fine. Maybe he was a bit dramatic. Melodramatic, even. But he was lovesick! He had a right to be pathetic and miserable! He checked the phone again.

Still nothing! “Argh!”

Miles sat up, grabbed the notepad and tried anew. Going through the scribbled remains of what once had been good ideas but now felt like mere nonsense, he tried to spot the bits that were worth holding onto. A few words here and there, maybe even half a stanza. Where was the damn pencil? He stretched, reached it and flipped through the notepad for an empty page, only to roll his eyes hard.

It was an old notepad he’d taken from Alex weeks ago, after having had to wait around for him in his childhood room. Only Alex had a habit of randomly choosing pages to write down on. A normal person would start at the beginning, then work his way through it page by page. Not Alex. And now Miles had to flip through page after page on the hunt for a blank one. He could take one of his one pads, but that would require getting off the floor, walking towards the shelf, pulling one out…all in all, it was just too much work.

Flip. Flip. Flip. Perfect! Blank pa—

Miles flipped back to the one before that.

His pulse began to drum. His heart-rate sped up.

“Dear Miles…”

The letter that Alex had mentioned back on New Year’s Eve. Here it was. In his hands. Available. He quickly shut the notepad and shoved it away from him. He stared at it from a distance as it laid on the floor, taunting him. Answers. In his reach. Right there, in front of him. But should he read the letter? Wasn’t it a bit like reading a trusted friend’s diary? Alex had told him that some of the letters were too raw, too honest. To read them without Alex’s consent would be awful, wouldn’t it?

Miles’ foot began to wiggle fast. He was fighting the urge to grab the notepad. What would Alex do? Would he read it, if roles were reversed? No. Or? The wiggling got stronger. Both feet were restless. He jumped up, began walk up and down the living room. Should he call Alex? Should he ask for permission? Alex wouldn’t give it to him, else he would have sent him the letter!

But he had mentioned the letters to him, which could mean that, maybe, subconsciously, he did want him to know what was inside. Right? “Oooh,” he whined, frustrated with this conundrum. He came to a stop in front of the item in question, tapped it with the tip of his foot. It looked so innocent and harmless. But it wasn’t. It was a ticking time bomb! A trap! It was the apple that would get him kicked out out of paradise.

“I’m going to hell for this!” Miles dropped to his knees, flipped to the page and began reading.

“Dear Miles,


Speaking my mind, as becomes clearer to me day by day, is, for now, entirely unmanageable. As I have told you last fall, I could fill a series of albums with the amount of truths I’d like to share with you. But it’s not the notion of being honest that makes me avoid doing so, it’s the part that follows. I quite fear for your reaction. We’ve always been brutally honest with each other and there’s never been a moment in which I’ve regretted it. Until now, though, there has never been a truth as big as the one which is currently burdening my shoulders. I’m in love with you. And not just a little bit. Imagine that. I want to be your friend, but in your presence my heart’s desires overpower my mind’s demands. I want you to trust me with your friendship, but how can I ask that of you when I don’t trust my own self to keep a platonic distance towards you? I miss our nearness, our comfortable proximity, I miss the warmth I received in your arms when you held me as your friend, but how do I return into your friendly embrace when the longing for a different heat makes me seek out your arms in an utterly carnal manner? These are the questions I need to find answers to before I can figure out how to make amends for the mess I’ve created. I hope that yo—”

“He’s in love with me,” whispered Miles in utter disbelief. “How is that possible?” He couldn’t form a clear thought. Instead, all they had ever done, every moment they had ever shared from the very second they had met flooded his head all at once. Images of them holding each other close. Recollections of conversations they had shared – deeply personal ones, of topics he’d never discus with anyone else. Flashbacks of their time on stage together, lost in each other, while surrounded by hundreds and thousands.

Miles got up, went to grab his coat, a large paper bag with a backpack in it, his keys and then headed down to get a cab. It was too big of a statement, too massive a thing, to just read and believe. He needed to hear it from Alex. He needed to see Alex and hear him say it or else he wouldn’t believe it. This wasn’t the kind of thing one just accepted. This was something else, something bigger.

Only, when he finally reached Alex’s place, damn fucker didn’t open the door! Miles grumbled a rotten curse under his breath. “Alex, it’s me. Open up!”

“He isn’t here, Miles.”

Miles turned to find Alex’s neighbor standing in the doorway, an amused grin on her face. The woman was in her early eighties and at times mistook him for an old acquaintance of hers. “Where is he, Mrs. Finch?”

“Can’t tell you. Left with one of those really big suitcases last week. Haven’t seen him since.”

Facing away from the door, Miles leaned back against it. Exhausted. Angry. Restless. Impatient. Full of energy but completely drained all at once. Alex could be anywhere in the world right now. Could be in France, with Louise. Could be in bed with her right now. The very thought brought on a wave of nausea and he quickly pushed it away. He dug his phone out of his pocket and dialed Alex’s number, only to be told by a computer-generated voice that the person he was trying to call was temporarily unavailable. He bit his tongue from cursing again. He tried messaging him, but his phone let him know that his message couldn’t be delivered. “Fuck, Al. Where are you?”

He considered calling Alex’s parents but the fact that Al had his phone off and couldn’t be reached would needlessly worry them and that he didn’t want to do. He could call Louise, but what if Alex was indeed with her? He couldn’t bear the idea, least of all the confirmation of that. Miles took the big paper bag. “Mrs. Finch, may I ask a favor of you? Would you be so kind to give this to Alex once he returns? If I get a hold of him before you do, I’ll return and collect it.”

“Of course.” She sneaked a glance into the paper bag. “Is this his backpack?”

Well, thought Miles, hopefully it would become his. He nodded at her and smiled. “See you soon, Mrs. Finch. Thank you very much.”

---

“Open the fucking door, you double-standard-applying, never-doing-what-you-want-me-to-do, generous, sweet-talking-old-ladies bastard!”

Miles, who had just fallen asleep on the couch and was torn wether he may or may not be dreaming at the moment, all but stumbled towards the door and pulled it open and said the first thing that came to his hazy mind. “You really need to learn how to curse right.”

Alex stormed past him, roughly shoving the backpack into Miles’ arms. “I just came back from very long, very exhausting, extremely delayed flight from Los Angeles only to find my neighbor all but attack me in my hallway as I’m opening my door. She was telling me a really strange story about some tall guy in a brown coat who had dropped by earlier and was quite disturbed by the fact that I wasn’t at home because, apparently, you desperately wanted to return a backpack to me!”

Miles was still wiping the sleep from his eyes, only slowly realizing that Alex Turner, his Alex, the one who was supposedly more than a little in love with him, was actually standing in his apartment right now and he was wearing a leather jacket. The latter part Miles found a bit rude. It was just as rude that somebody who had spent so many supposedly awful hours on a plane was looking so fucking ravishing this late into the night! He became aware of the backpack in his arms and held it out to Alex. “Merry Christmas.”

Alex shot him a fierce, frightening glare. “Do you have any idea how tempted I am to punch you right now?”

When Alex didn’t take the backpack, Miles dropped it on the floor. “Very?”

“Don’t push it,” warned Alex, his voice rising. “You told me to leave you alone! You left that hotel room! And I get that I fucked up, okay? But you didn’t speak a word to me for weeks and out of bloody nowhere you drop by and leave that for me?”

“You weren’t home. I wanted you to have it,” said Miles.

“Now? Why today? Without any explanation?” Alex met Miles’ eyes, then frowned. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Miles looked away. Oh God, had he drooled? “Like what?”

“Like I’m a ghost or something.”

A flash of relief overcame him. “I’m not sure I’m really awake at the moment.” Miles walked back to the couch and sat down on the edge of it. Alex was here. Was Alex in love with him? How did one ask a question like that? Was it a yes or no question? Did it require eloquence? And where did he put that aspirin? “I could be dreaming right now.”

“You’re not,” assured Alex, unamused. “I’m more than happy to pinch you as proof!”

“Could you?”

“Miles! You’re not dreaming! Why would even think that? What’s so bloody good about this moment that you would want to dream about it? I’m not here to thank you for your gift! I’m pissed off right now and you know why!” He walked into the kitchen and returned with a bottle of water. Once he drank some, he placed it away, got rid of his jacket and sat down on a chair.

Miles was confused about it all. “You’re getting comfortable?” Did he intend to stay? Would this be a longer visit? “Are you staying?”

Alex scoffed. “Yes! I’m not done yelling at you! But it was long day and I’m tired. And jet-lagged. And hungry. Got anything good in your fridge or just the green stuff?”

Miles pinched his own arm. “Ow!”

“Bloody hell, Kane! What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you tripping on cold meds again? Is that a thing now?”

Shaking his head, Miles wondered if he’d ever snap out of his daze. It all felt so surreal. Alex Turner, who may or may not be in love with him, was in his apartment, irate at him for what Miles considered to be a very thoughtful gift, and he was also hungry. And even though Miles had a million questions he wanted to ask, all of which centered on the topic of ‘love’, the one thing he eventually did say was completely asinine. “I tried calling you today. Your phone was dead.”

“Well…” Alex seemed startled at the question, but then he looked at the floor, shrugging almost embarrassedly. “Threw it against the wall of that hotel room after you left. Decided to give up on phones altogether. They’re overrated anyway.”

“You…threw…” Miles started to laugh. The entire situation was simply too much. He was tired, confused, still shellshocked by Alex’s letter and now that he was actually sitting face to face with him, Miles was done for. It was either crying or laughing and laughing seemed the wiser, less awkward thing to do.

“You must be tripping right now,” concluded Alex, reached for the bottle of water on table next to him. And froze.

Miles noticed, saw what his friend’s eyes were focusing on and all laughter died.

“How did that get here?” Alex didn’t look at Miles. His eyes were firmly glued to the yellow notepad on the table. The visible page held Alex’s letter to Miles.

“I needed something to write when I visited you in Sheffield. I just grabbed one of your old ones from the shelf. I hadn’t noticed the letter until today.”

“You’ve read it, then.”

“Is it true, Al?” Miles couldn’t even read Alex’s feelings for he was so bloody somber and emotionless at the moment.

Alex stood up after a minute, began pacing the room. He was still avoiding Miles’ eyes.

“Tell me, is it true?!”

“You think I would joke about something like that?”

Alex’s disgust at the mere suggestion was visible. But Miles didn’t care. He needed to hear it from him. He needed to hear him say it and see him speak the words. To him, it was that big of a thing. “Say it, Alex. Just, please, fucking say it!” Miles was pleading.

“I wanted to say it when I came to that party,” Alex explained, staying as far away from Miles as the living room allowed it. “I wanted to tell you in the hotel. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about! I wanted to ask you how you felt about me, Miles. ‘Cause I needed to hear it from you! I had this idea that maybe you were— that maybe you felt something like that for me! But it’s so hard to say it loud. It’s so hard to ask when the answer can hurt so much!”

“What made you think that my answer would hurt you?” whispered Miles, feeling so close to everything and yet so far from it all.

Alex stopped and stared at the ceiling. “I saw the pictures of you and Suki and…”

Miles took a sharp breath. “That’s why you…”

“That’s why I asked about her and you. And that,” said Alex, swallowing hard, “is why I hadn’t broken up with Louise yet. I never loved her, Miles.” He sat back down, covering his face with his hands. “Taylor broke up with me because I’m an asshole. And she was right to do so. But when she did, she didn’t break my heart. She broke my head. She put this thought into my head that I was in love with you…”

Miles gasped when he heard the words rolling from Alex’s lips. He sat up straight, leaned forward, strained to hear every last letter Alex spoke.

“And it freaked me out,” admitted Alex quietly. “Not because it meant I was attracted to a man, but because I was attracted to you. To my best friend. To the one person I can’t do without. For a while, I denied it. I fought it. But it didn’t work, it got worse. Louise was my safety cushion. She stopped me from getting lost in my thoughts. And that day at the concert hall on the day we… I brought her along so I could hide behind her when you…when you were around. And when you weren’t there, she kept me from feeling lonely. I didn’t break up with her ‘cause I was afraid you weren’t in— you felt different about me.” Alex dropped his hands, looked at the floor and sighed. “Here’s the answer you’ve been waiting for since last fall: I walked out because I was afraid you’d wake up, look at me, and regret what we had done. I was afraid you’d be disgusted when…when all I wanted to do was crawl back into bed and do it all over again. If I had stayed, if I had seen just a flicker of remorse in your eyes, it would irreversibly broken my heart. And so I left.”

For a long while they just sat in silence. They had yet to make eye contact. Miles tried, but Alex put up a tough fight. After a very long, brutal pause, Alex spoke up again. “What does it matter if I do, Miles.” His voice sounded bitterly resigned. “Look at us. You and I, we’ve never had a functioning relationship in our lives. Imagine if we tried, together. I mean…we don’t even manage to meet up as friends! I just got back from Los Angeles and you’re leaving for France tomorrow. By the time I get to France, you’ll be in Italy, then Spain or Portugal? Somebody told me you’re headed to Russia this summer. And those are just the few I can name from the top of my head. I need to stay here, ‘cause I got meetings, then there’s a wedding in LA I promised to attend. My parents are asking for me to spend a bit of time with them this summer… I’m a mess in relationships. I get antsy and feel cornered easily. I’m selfish and restless. And it’s not just me. You told me how the idea of being stuck with somebody freaks you out. You love your freedom and I love mine. We would trap each other. We would ruin each other!”

Miles’ heart broke all over again. But it wasn’t the fact that Alex was telling him that the chances for a relationship between them to survive were slim to none, it was the realization that Alex had considered it and had come to the same conclusion that Miles had come to, himself. Alex shared his fears and worries, which made him see that he wasn’t crazy or overly worried. It made him see that he had valid fears and valid worries.

“I’m in love with you,” whispered Alex, at long last, looking directly into Miles’ eyes.

The words made him breathless. To hear them, to actually hear them? It was something he so often tried but never succeeded in imagining. No fantasy of it would have ever given justice to the real thing. And, suddenly, unexpectedly, it was so very easy to say them back. “I’m in love with you,” replied Miles.

“But I’m afraid,” continued Alex, “that, should I ever lose you, I won’t recover from that.”

“Neither would I,” Miles admitted. He gave Alex the world’s most helpless smile. “We’re destined for a life of misery, aren’t we?”

Alex chuckled, then became somber and serious again. He took in a shaky breath. “I’d rather have a little bit of you than nothing at all.” He got up, walked over to Miles and gave his cheek the gentlest of caresses. He closed his eyes, leaned down and kissed the top of his head. “My heart was yours long before I knew I could lose it. Know that.” Letting go, Alex grabbed his jacket, put it on and, looking at the backpack on the floor, he reminded Miles, “you know why I can’t take it, right?”

“Penguins.”

“Penguins,” nodded Alex.

As Alex made his way to the door, Miles got up, took a few large strides towards him, spun him around and kissed him hard. Alex didn’t push back or protest. He just held on to Miles and returned the kiss with as much desperation as possible. “I don’t regret our night,” stated Miles. Another kiss. “It’s the one thing in my life I will never regret.” One last kiss. He let his lips linger. Pulling away was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. But he did it anyway.

Alex opened the door. “Call me when you land in France.”

“You no longer have a phone.” What a silly conversation to have at this moment.

“Right.” Alex nodded. “I should get a new one,” he concluded and smiled a small smile. “I’ll call you.”

Miles wanted to touch him again, kiss him again, hold on to him and never let go, but he couldn’t. So he didn’t. “Night, Alex.”

“Night, Miles.” Then he was gone.

Miles closed the door, leaned back against it and slid down to the floor.

How had this happened? How could this day have been such a rollercoaster ride of emotions? He’d gone from melancholic to shocked to energetic to happy to breathlessly overjoyed to heartbroken all within the span of a few hours.

His head rolled back against the wooden door and came to a rest with a thud. How powerful this love of theirs was, for two grown-up people to be so thoroughly afraid of it.

Half an hour later, Miles had recovered enough to gather the backpack from the floor, place it back in the closet of his bedroom, grab his suitcase and start packing. France would do him good right now. It would distract him and keep his mind from drifting back to one he longed for.  

Once all the clothes, shoes and necessities were stuffed, he grabbed his laptop and prepared a playlist for the travel. Any other day, he’d have begun with the Beatles classics. But not today. All You Need Is Love was sitting there, on the screen, paused, and it made him snort.

What a lie.

What a huge, fucking, disgusting lie.

Spoilers Part 16:

“You’re still in bed? What are you wearing?”

Miles laughed hard. “Dirty, Alex. Real dirty!”